Thursday, November 26, 2015

Gratitude for Even the Small

It's 5:30am in California. As I sit here unable to sleep, I am reminded of my night in Abu Dhabi and how after 3 hours of sleep, my internal clock said I slept all night. I'm experiencing the same feeling. 

This year, there is no traditional meal for my family. Sitting in a motel room, there will be no mashed potatoes, no Quorn veggie roast or stuffing. Visiting my daughter in her new home is all I need. I never held a great deal of attachment to holidays anyway. 

This holiday, during this very early morning with very little sleep, has my heart twisting with sadness. I don't know why yet, but I'm sure it has to do with all these feelings and thoughts still pouring through my mind from India. 

This morning I read a post from a Peace Corps volunteer on NPR. When she cried over water, I understood. She spoke for my heart. 

"At first, I cried with happiness when I saw rain after a five-month dry season. It cooled down the savannah and filled the buckets I use to fetch water from the community water spigot. But I also cried real tears when it rained almost every day; I couldn't charge my phone via solar charger, severing my tenuous connection back home for a short while."

I am grateful for so much this year. My list would never be complete. 
-My husband, my daughter, my pups and kitties who make my heart light up with their unconditional love, my mother who teaches me patience, my dear friends. -My dog, Charlie, rolling on the leaves with his tennis ball. 
-Weekly meditation with a monk. 
-Sunday sangha where I am welcomed, fed and join in bhajans regardless of how much time has passed since I was last there. 
-The luxury of choosing what to eat and buy to eat. 
-Clean water. You know what? I had to remind myself last night I could drink the water at this hotel because last time I was at a guest house I could not. How amazing is that! 
-Warmth. Warm clothes, heater, fireplace, you name it. I have a means of being warm where others do not. 
-To have people to love and those who love me back. Two sleepy heads snooze, one to my left and to my right. I'm the luckiest girl alive. 


Friday, November 6, 2015

Maybe it Boils Down to Faith and a Choice

I've been trying to figure out what to do with the book I've been writing this past year. The focus is on Bhakti yoga - devotion to God - and how I got to this place. I thought India would seal the story, providing a wealth of stories and insights. It didn't - or so I thought. 
Slowly, very slowly my friends, have I been seeing pieces that might come together. Still I was lost. 

I met with Bhaktimarga Swami and saw Bhante Sujatha and Bhante Soma. A few pieces leaked, but nothing solidified. And then last night a yoga student and friend just said a few words (because I was rambling on and on which I've been doing so much this week to my dismay - not my nature). And those words are now brewing together ideas, thoughts and concepts. 

I am grateful for all my teachers and those we find in unexpected moments. And as for that dear lady, you thank you for helping the stew cook. 

Maybe just maybe part of Bhakti and any spiritual practice is that it's not about these grand magical moments, but about choices. Like the choice to love God even in moments of despair, pain and disaster. Maybe everything boils down to a choice and one of those choices is what many call faith. 

Friday, October 23, 2015

Can it Ever Be Enough?

When I was a child growing up in NYC there was no limit to beggars and homeless people. I don't remember them as aggressive. I was taught like a New Yorker to pass them, to see them like they were less than human. 

This wasn't necessarily by my parents (who I did see give money when they had a few cents to give as we struggled as well), but by example of many. 

My eyes were always fixated on the homeless, the beggars, even if we walked fast by them. I created stories in my mind for these people. How did they get here? Who did they love and who loved them? 

I was accosted by beggars and vendors in India. Having lived in the safe cradle of a small town in PA, I had forgotten this part of the world. I wanted to crawl into a safe place and be pulled away from this. Because while I was in shock from being constantly bombarded with a hard sell and followed endlessly in different places, my heart was breaking each and every time. 

It is in my nurture state to want to save everyone. Save from what? Everything! Save everyone from physical and emotional pain. Save everyone from starvation, war, poverty. Save everyone from life and each other. 

I'm left in a space of confusion after my trip. There was as many beautiful experiences as there were heart wrenching ones. My husband sees those beautiful moments. He sees the kindness of strangers. He sees the beautiful architecture and history that has survived thousands of years. He sees the grace of the villages we drove through. For me, I remember the pain the most. And in that pain, I am trying to understand how my life is inexplicably altered. How do I move forward? What can I do? Because in my present state, there is nothing I could ever do that would be enough. 

It's not that I am questioning my life's purpose but what can I do now to live a life that helps those suffering the most. 

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Stealing Time to Write

After my book came out, I had a good number of people ask me if I had any advice on writing a book since they also wanted to. I was kind of stunned since I was either extremely focused or like spaghetti on a wall. What advice could I offer? 

So I gave advice Elizabeth Gilbert offered (which I found myself unconsciously doing already) -write your experiences and inspirations down when they come up. That could be on a scrap piece of paper, a napkin, an index card, anything. Then, when you have time, you can expand upon them or start to put them together. 

Many people also inquired with my schedule how I did it. I can tell you that as I write my second book I've realized that I steal time. 

When I find myself inspired to write -usually when I have a moment to myself - I open a new email on my iPhone and type with my right index finger my thoughts. I'm not skilled like my daughter and she kindly pokes fun at. Then I press send. That's all. 

The work begins when I take all those notes and piece them together. I'm not always able to carve out hours at a time to just sit and write. How many of us do?! It's those 5-10 minutes I can find that I build a new book. 

The only boundaries we have to creativity are the ones we impose upon ourselves. 
What are you inspired to create? 

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Guru Devotee Lesson

I'm learning a very important lesson in the guru devotee relationship. Something I never knew I would learn. It wasn't even in the scope of my knowledge. 

The chase. The aw. The heart wrenching opening and release. It's practically indescribable. 

You hear stories about this blessing that happens. You cannot truly know it until it happens to you. There is no doubt in your heart and what your mind wants to deny becomes increasingly more difficult. 

Friday, July 31, 2015

Honoring Our Teachers During Guru Purnima

Teachers have the capacity to burn within us a hunger for knowledge, cultivate latent talents and lift us out of maya (illusion). They also leave us with silly memories.

One of my grade school teachers Mr. B., seemingly loved the cold. In the dead of winter, with snow cradling the ground, us students would shiver in his classroom where the tilting windows were opened - all of them. Occasionally, due to the uncontrollable shaking knees of school girls wearing their uniform plaid skirts, he would close one or two windows.

"The cold is good for you!" Mr. B. would say. We still shook, but I hold that memory as a cherished one from my childhood.

In my life, I have had the extraordinary opportunity to be in the presence of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hahn, Krishna Das, and my guru H.H. Radhanath Swami. To be in the presence of these teachers is frankly mind blowing to me when I think about it. Access to books from other brilliant teachers has been an easy thing for me to obtain. These books are where I met (and subsequently absorbed the knowledge) of Pema Chodren, Yogananda and more. In a world where access to such things is limited, a blessing was bestowed upon me.

Guru is a Hindu word for a spiritual leader who has the capacity to drive out maya that binds an individual. Gu means darkness or ignorance. Ru is the remover of such things. Today is the day to honor those teachers who help to drive out our ignorance, instilling the ability to see with open eyes.

Guru Purnima is a celebration of Buddhists and Hindus alike, honoring and offering puja to their teachers. This annual holiday is on the full moon of Ashadha (Nepali/Hindu month June-July)

For yogis the history of this festival lies in the birth of Adi Guru (the first guru) 15,000 years ago. Through a lifetime's persistence of those around him, he opened the doorway for all of us to undergo a conscious evolution.

For Buddhists, today marks the anniversary when Lord Buddha traveled to Sarnath and gave his first sermon after achieving enlightenment. It was on this full moon day, that he delivered the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta.

To Hindus, today marks the memory of the sage, Maharshi Veda Vyasa (also known as Krishna Dvaipayana). This avatar of the God Vishnu edited and divided the Vedas, wrote the Mahābhārata and eighteen of the major Puranas. To Hindu's, this day marks his birth and the date of the dividing of the Vedas. 

Guru Purnima gives us the chance to offer puja and thanks to our teachers - both spiritual and scholarly. Those teachers drove out ignorance for us in various ways. We can also take the time to acknowledge those in our daily lives who through a multitude of actions, provide us with important lessons, as well. Some of them are not easy lessons to learn.
HH Radhanath Swami. Source: Wiki Commons



I once heard a story of my guru's guru, A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. A devotee had written him letters and Swami loved to have them read to him. When the devotee returned to  Prabhupada, another person suggested the devotee read his letters out loud to Prabhupada. When the devotee did so, Prabhupada started talking over him. Again and again this happened.

I remember feeling such empathy for the devotee when I heard the story and anger welled within me for Prabhupada. With time and distance, I recognized the hard lesson. Prabhupada had become for his devotee like a father. Guru's can take on that role for many of us. It hurts us when we disappoint them. It causes our heart to burn in pain when they do not readily give the love we seek. Swami Prabhupada was driving away vanity. It was a difficult lesson!

What if only Prabhupada said "What you are doing is vain!" Would the devotee have listened? Would his mind have reasoned why it wasn't? If your parents said something like that to you, would you listen? Sometimes the tough lessons come disguised in emotional cloaks to drive us deeper into a place beyond our egos.

My life is built up of lessons. The most impactful ones were uncovered through deep, painful, emotional moments. Of course it took time to see beyond my feelings. There were also those inspirational words, but they too generally invoked great emotional response.

For the inspirational and disciplinary lessons I have received from my life's teachers, I offer my humblest gratitude.

Jai Meher Baba!
Jai Sri Yuketswar!
Jai HH Dalai Lama!
And for my guru, Jai HH Radhanath Swami!

Jai to the many teachers I have met in my life and those who teach me daily. Hari Bol!

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Electric Evening with Pastor Bell

I fully expected to be standing at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia last night. It was a concert venue and General Admission tickets generally meant no seats. As a newly converted copious note taker, my plan was to sit on the floor instead of awkwardly stand with notebook and pen in hand while listening to the loved, yet controversial Pastor Rob Bell. 

When my husband and I arrived, the dark room was covered in stackable maroon chairs. The entrance way dangled colorful glowing balls of lights made of material interwoven in such a way, that my husband stared at them as we waited in line for our photo op with Pastor Bell later that evening. He was trying to figure out how the staff opened them to change a light bulb. 

On the brightly lit stage was a large triangle. I'm talking big! The length appeared only to be matched by lining up my 6'5 husband twice lying sideways.

"What's up with the triangle? I noticed he has them on his t-shirts too," my husband inquired.

"I have no idea. I guess we will see!" I replied.

About a half hour after we arrived, Real Rob Bell, as his Twitter handle indicates, took to the stage immediately providing flair you'd expect from fireworks. A tall presence, sharing my husband's light blond hair, he walked and stood purposefully on the stage. Letting his humor flip through his opening words, he loosened up the crowd. The Philadelphia audience may have been sleepy at 8:45 P.M., but not Bell. 

Pastor Bell led one of the fastest growing churches in the country until his book, Love Wins, was published. Challenging the views of mainstream American Christianity about the concepts of hell and salvation, Bell was pushed out into reaching a new audience with his sermons. 

I had no expectations. Frankly, I didn't know much about him except for a blip here and there from Oprah and author, Elizabeth Taylor. However, I found myself starting to take notes as the triangle on the stage turned into its purpose - a whiteboard. In the dark, with a small spiral notepad, I wrote for the next two hours without stopping. Whether my handwriting was legible or not, I would not know until the next day, but I could not let that stop me. 

He started with concepts like death and rebirth are happening at a cellular level every day. Plus, the concept that we are made up of star dust. There was a purpose to this story. Starting at the whiteboard, he drew a dot. And that's where it all began. Rather than jumping into a spiritual philosophical sermon, Bell spoke for almost an hour about the evolution of the world. From particles to molecules to atoms to cells to us. Building seamlessly, he bound together science into his underlying message - the next evolution of the universe is through unity. 

"Everything in the freaking universe wants to be part of something greater than itself," he said with sheer enthusiasm. 

Corny jokes and big laughs peppered his presentation along with emotional wrought stories, cutting through our defenses so he could adequately fill our mental cups with a new story, as he called it. Our universe was self-transcending. It keeps going and growing as it has for 13.8 billion years. And perhaps we are lonely, because we are being called to do something we cannot understand.

We all share the common underlying human condition of loneliness. Since the beginning of time, particles bonded together to create atoms and atoms bonded to create molecules and molecules united to form cells. To Bell, loneliness exists in all humans because we, who are made of particles, atoms, molecules and cells, are looking to bond with one another. Yet, we don't. We isolate ourselves going against the very grain of our universe.

The Big Bang created something new each time it bonded with its counterpart over the course of several billion years. Evolution after evolution happened in our universal history simply by uniting with like. 

We are like those particles, atoms, molecules and cells, seeking similar essences and energies as our own, Bell explains. The very subatomic particles in our makeup did the same thing. "We want to bond because for 13.8 billion years we have been doing this."

And from all of this bonding, comes the concept of God, or love. The former pastor danced around the word God, but not the subject. He acknowledged the stigma the word invokes for many people. In doing so, he focused on the one concept we can all appreciate - Love.

"Love is when you move beyond yourself for the well-being of another. Love is when you transcend yourself for the well-being of another."

Bell explores the thought that if we let go of hate, racism, persecution and ego, we transcend the self and bond with another. And that bond is what invites in love. It invites in God. 

"We are all deeply connected. When one suffers, we all suffer. When one rejoices, we all rejoice." 

"Is the universe done?" Bell asks. "Or are you being invited to bond with others of similar essence and substance? And if we do it well, are we creating something new?"

And to that question, Bell leaves the answer up to us. But he leaves it with a side-note. The earth itself is quite young. Humans are just got here. If you take the timeline of the existence of our planet and you use the analogy of one day, humans arrived at 11:59. How can we ask what our greater purpose is in the universe? We just got here, Bell explains.

As my husband equated, "It's like arriving at a party and instantly asking the host 'Am I having a good time? Should I have come here?' Meanwhile the host replies, 'You haven't even stepped though the doorway yet.'"

Maybe we need to go with the flow of the universe and start to bond with like energies. From there, we can relax a bit. We don't need to have all of the answers right now. 

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Leaping Without Knowing

I find that as I get older, I am more tentative with change. I am not as risk taking as I was in my youth. Even when I am called to change something, the prospect of listening to that silent wave pushing me deeper into my dharma, is put on hold. My mind like a hamster wheel wants to evaluate it and let it sit for awhile. The quiet call does not cease as my mind turns. 

As I pause at this very moment, a Grey Catbird flys over towards me, perches just a few feet away on a clothing line. It looks at me with equal curiosity, appearing to ask "what are you waiting for?" 

How often do we all pause on the precipice of change because we are scared? How often does our mind want to evaluate a calling of our soul? If we only jumped in, perhaps the waves would soften. 

Perhaps it's time, no matter how  ridiculous it may appear, to make that change that's calling us. Maybe it's time to jump in without knowing what's on the other side. 

We may fall and bang up our knees, but for all we know, that may be where our next chapter begins. Taking a page from Nike, maybe we should "Just do it." 

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Love Yourself to Love Thy Neighbor

This morning I heard the strangest bird call before I saw what happened next. Two crows were in pursuit of a hawk. As they closed the gap, they attacked the wing of the hawk. This went on for awhile with one crow dropping out and down the street I could see more fly into action. 

I wondered what happened. Is this normal behavior? Did the hawk piss off a crow? Was the hawk ill? I was horrified by the act. I sent all of them a silent blessing. 

Then I thought about how we are both the hawk and the crow, picking at ourselves. We verbally injure ourselves with words. And so we become mentally and emotionally sick thereby doing that to another human being. 

I grew up Catholic and remember strongly the saying "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." And we do. We love ourselves so little that we in turn love others the  same. We need more love, more compassion in this world. It has to start from within working its way out-after we have worked our way out of our own darkness, self-loathing. 

It is only then can we love others and see that all beings suffer. That angry person is suffering. That person on forums hating and spewing vicious words is suffering. The quiet person not looking at you is suffering. The person with cutting words wrapped around wit is suffering. You know suffering. It is why you had trouble loving yourself. 

Can you love yourself in order to love your neighbor properly? Perhaps today we can take that opportunity to be mindful of our own thoughts. 


Monday, March 23, 2015

Gratitude in Simple Moments

If I look back on my childhood, my 20's and frankly, half of my 30's, I can see that I was missing the ability to appreciate life's small, everyday moments as blessings. My mother raised my brother and I with the concept that blessings and gifts came in big ways. Literally a huge doll or dollhouse, a significant recognition, or a financial whirlwind were things that meant you were blessed. My husband on the other hand was raised differently. Gratitude could be present in homemade gifts, the way the light streamed across someone's face or kind words. I did not understand or relate until a couple of years ago.  

You think you appreciate the mundane until one day you really know what it means for things to touch your heart, to feel joy, in the deepest parts of you. 

This evening, my husband made my daughter and I a beautiful dinner. I relished every moment. I set the table with white ceramic plates. No utensils were used as we ate our vegetarian Indian meal. The spices of fennel, cinnamon and curry that wafted the air, hit our mouths with hot flavors. The more I breathed, the hotter my mouth got until I turned the fire down with handfuls of rice and gulps of water. The naan sopped up the sauce preparing me for our trip to India in October. I realized our Monday evening dinners as a family were getting fewer and fewer. My daughter will soon be off to a university in California. 

After cleaning up, I looked at my cat, Maya, who shows signs of moving into the final stage of life. She stopped cleaning herself a few months ago. Today, her eyes started looking dull, like the light of her soul was leaving her. She snuggled into one of our dog beds not moving. I thought of all those moments I took for granted, even those naughty funny moments like using a ficus tree as a bathroom in front of my husband when we started dating. As I pet her, gave her water, and fed her food bedside, I realize how grateful I am to be able to share these last moments of her life with her. 

It may sound odd to say that one can find gratitude in the death process. To be a witness to her passing, her vulnerability, and for her to let me serve her in what little way I can-it humbles me more than I can say. 

With dying pets, I have changed diapers, cleaned up accident after accident, served food and water bedside, carried them out for bathroom breaks, chanted, prayed, given Reiki and did all of those mundane tasks I did for my daughter when she was an infant. 

I wonder how present I was in my daughter's childhood. I hope that she can continue to emulate my husband and find those simple joys now and not have to wait until she is in her 30's. 

Life is beautiful. We just need to be present to recognize it. 

"We can learn to rejoice in even the smallest blessings our life holds. It is easy to miss our own good fortune; often happiness comes in ways we don’t even notice." Pema Chodron

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Feeding Your Soul

Tonight, standing in our kitchen, my daughter brewed a cup of coffee for herself while I sipped on hot cocoa. The temperature outside had dropped. Spring had quickly decided to go back into hibernation. I needed something warm to drink. She needed caffeine to finish a paper. We snacked on air-popped popcorn my husband just made for us.

My daughter relayed how she was having great dreams. So great that in the morning, she didn't want to wake up and deal with the reality of papers, exams and waiting to hear back from colleges she applied to for the fall. I suggested doing some self-introspection and recognize the blessing-that her mind protects herself in such a way that it manifests the opposite of how many of us deal with stress when we sleep. Most people, including myself, have stress-filled dreams or nightmares. As a psychology major, I thought she would be on board with this idea.

"But I've had this happen to me three times already," she said about going through this phase. She said it puts her into this tailspin of worrying more.

"Well then," I replied, "how about you think about what would make you happy if you were 100 years old and on your death bed." Not the average bedtime story moms tell their children.

"Yeah, but I worry that if I failed a test or paper and then failed a class, then I would have to report it to the colleges I applied to and then I might not get in and then I would be stuck in Pennsylvania..." she went on. She, like many, saw greener pastures in places other than home. For her, it was California.

"Yes, but that's not what you would be thinking about on your death bed. What do people think about? They don't think about what college they went to or what kind of job they had. They don't think about the car or house they had or how much money they accumulated. That's all consumption. Think about what Bhante Sujatha and other monks say. Suffering comes from attachment. All those attachments are from consumption. And you can't take your house, your job, your money with you when you die and they weren't with you when you were born. When people die, they think about how much they loved."

"And how many people they hurt," she continued.

"Yes, and the adventures they had or didn't have. They think about what filled their heart."

"So, I should think about what feeds my soul," she said connecting the dots with such ease. Which was then followed by how brilliant I was. I reminded her that she is the one that figured it out, not me. She was the one that realized that what feeds your soul is what you think of at the end of life. Those are the things that matter the most.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Past Life that Led to Compassion

I have these past life memories that I see as a string of events. I have no idea how they connect or what sequence they are in. That is until I had a glimpse today. 


In one of my lives, I was a Buddhist monk and tortured to death, dying in a prison cell. In my last life, I was not a great person. In fact, to be honest, I kind of sucked. I was unkind and schemed. I wondered how I could fall from being a monk (or in other lives where I might say I was enlightened) to a person motivated by causing other people pain. 


Today, I could see how my last memories effected my soul. Being a monk, my final experiences in that life were full of pain and I witnessed the dark side of humanity. Either that experience brought me so far into darkness that I became as low as my captures in a sense for my life as the unkind man, or I chose to experience the other side if the coin - to know what darkness was like and find the humanity in each person. 


In this life, I was born into a painful childhood where I once again was surrounded by the darkness of the human experience. Since I was a preteen, I always believed my life was meant to be as it was - to learn something from it. As I got older, I became hyper focused on compassion. I knew my present life is here to teach me (and remind me) to have compassion for all beings. 


Every moment of our life, each person, is here for us to learn and grow (even the ugly moments). Each lifetime is another opportunity to seek an understanding of a concept or feeling.  


I believe my last life was my bridge for this one. To learn fully and deeply the ability to have loving kindness and compassion. Without it, I could not be who I am today. I could not have been the 13 year old child who forgave her father. The 38 year old woman who tries to forgive each hurtful moment as quickly as possible. 

Saturday, January 31, 2015

It Was Time To Say Thank You

When I was a Freshman in high school, I was eating lunch in the noisy cafeteria with one of my only friends at the time. Another girl with cropped short hair and thin braids, plopped down next to us and started talking. It had only been about a year into living in Maryland. My family had moved from Astoria, N.Y. I suffered from culture shock. My peers were not enamoured with me. Instead they called me "Stupid Susan" and enjoyed making fun of me in a multitude of ways. 

Like me, she didn't sport soccer shorts or have the perfect blond hair pulled into a ponytail. She didn't wear Keds. She looked like she feared gym class as much as I did. However, she did not look like a typical New Yorker, either. She looked like artsy crossbreed of a punk and a hippie. I was afraid her sitting next to me would rock my fragile world and bring on more teasing. 

In the conversation that ensued, she mentioned she was a vegetarian and talked about animal cruelty. I had little knowledge of this area as my family were meat eating Catholic Republicans. Now, there was always that esoteric side, but my mother had no idea that she was doing anything different than what a typical God-fearing woman was doing. I ate little meat because I didn't have the palate for it. But nothing crossed my mind about doing it. I absolutely loved animals, but the concept of animal cruelty was foreign to me. I brushed off this girl as strange. 

Little could I know that merely 2 years later, I would not just consider her thoughts on animals, but become a PETA-loving vegetarian. Twenty two years later, I still walk this path (just not as preachy as I was in my youth and not torturing myself with PETA videos). I thought about her several times a year since I made that life changing decision. I always wanted to tell her how she literally changed my life. 

We cannot always see these marvelous pieces of life's puzzles and how they lock together creating something bigger than we envisioned. Yet, they happen, little by little. How could I have known that at the age of 16, my choice to not eat meat would not only turn into a lifelong decision, but also reflect my soul?

I have always had a deep connection of my past lives since I was a child. In my twenties, memories flooded my mind. In my thirties, I remembered a moment living in India, sitting in lotus on a golden sand covered ground as an old man with long white hair, wearing only a loin cloth. I remembered being a Buddhist monk in a prison cell, tortured by my captures, made to sit in lotus,once again in meditation. With each of these memories, I knew that I was meant to be a vegetarian, having been one previously.

I raised my daughter to understand vegetarianism (her father and I had to compromise with what meat she ate as a young child since he was a meat eater). This one moment sitting at a lunch table reminded me of my soul's nature, influenced my child's life, and then, when the time came again for me to enter into Hindu beliefs, naturally folded into perfect synchronicity without struggle. 

The other day, two potential artistic and spiritual opportunities arose for me. I wanted to seize them both and asked friends to send me prayers, Reiki and well wishes. I said to chant "Yes" for me, using a collective power of attraction. What was funny was how the next day, something interesting happened.

I felt this urge to find this woman and thank her. I had felt it before, but never so strongly. It was as if I was lifted to my feet and made to walk into my living room, scoop up old yearbooks and search for her face. I did not remember what graduating year she was or that of her younger sister. I heard an inner voice say to me "Now is the time."

Two yearbooks later, I found her sister, and then, knowing the first name and now last name of the person I was looking for, found her in about five minutes. Next, I searched through Facebook and Google to find nothing. I found her sister's email on an alumni listing, only to find the email bounce back. I tried once more on Google, this time adding our high school name into the search. What came up to my surprise was a dear friend's website who had passed away. On there, she was interviewed. She had changed her name. One more search and I had found her. 

Twenty years will change people. She looked nothing like I remembered her. However, she still had that spark of originality and was still simply beautiful. I sent an email. I wanted to thank her for changing my life. Sometimes people who influence you in amazing ways just never know. I didn't want that to happen. I could not go a lifetime without this woman knowing that because of her words, I became a vegetarian, fell deeper into who my soul was, and subsequently raised a pescetarian (one who doesn't eat red meat or poultry, only fish).

Each of us, every moment we speak, we take action, we think, we are tossing a rock into a body of water creating ripples. We cannot see how that can remotely make a difference. It does. I love the phrase "hindsight is 20/20." How could we see what has only begun to unfold? How could we know how we influenced a situation or living being until the dust has settled?

When I woke up the morning after I sent my email, I found such clarity in part my life that I was blindly living in. It prompted me to have a difficult conversation with a person to share that I could not support the consumption of meat. This conversation had the potential to change my future. But my eyes were wide open with a realization that had not occurred to me previously. I believed that all of those prayers, incense burning, shouts of "Yes!" of my friends all accumulated in perfect synchronicity for what I needed at that moment. It was not what I expected, but what I needed. 

About a day after my email, the girl from high school, replied. She said that my message was also timely for her. She saw it as a sign influencing a choice in her life. We both, in the span of a couple of days, received what we each needed without knowing the gift we were giving one another. 

I have found that there are no coincidences in life. Simply, properly timed moments, stirred by some invisible force. And that force leads us to connecting to and supporting the higher good for ourselves and others. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Inspirational Mobile Wall

I often see these graphics on Facebook, Twitter & Pinterest with inspirational quotes. The ones I see that I love I save to my phone and share on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest. Some, I keep on my phone only for me. And then every now and then I clean up my phone and keep my super favorites. 

My phone becomes an inspirational wall with photos of my family and photos of outdoors I capture. 
I'm sharing this one with you. It's also going to be a keeper on my phone. 


As my daughter grows and plans her adult life, I tell her you can plan for your life, but sometimes it takes you places that were never in your plan. And that can be marvelous.

In no way shape or form is my adult life what I planned for it to be. I wouldn't trade it in for my childhood dreams. I never could have imagined creating such a magnificent one as I have now.

Do you have an inspirational wall on your phone or home?


Thursday, January 1, 2015

Understanding New Year's Resolutions

Last night, before my daughter headed out to enjoy New Year's with her other half, I ran into our family room with baby blue paper and pens from my purse. Everyone looked at me with a big "uh oh" face.

Before I handed out the pens and paper, I asked everyone to recount their top five (more or less) happy moments from 2014. My daughter started tentatively. Soon, she was on a roll, beaming with delight at the accomplishments, travels and memories from the year. We continued around the room, each of us sharing what we were proud of and what made the year special for us.

For me, it was a big year. I'm not even going to beat around the bush. The year of the Chinese Horse was good to me. After an extremely challenging year of the Snake, I can honestly say I deserved this kind of year. After a good whipping, you kind of need to be picked up again.

In 2014, I completed my 200 hour yoga teacher training. I received my certification in Thai Folk Medicine. I loved our trips to Disney World and Montreal. And of course, my biggie, my book was published. What I also shared was that I had such a great year with my husband and daughter and my marriage was amazing this year.

After we patted ourselves on our backs, I thrust the blue paper and pens into everyone's hands.

"Is this what you were going to tell me," my daughter asked in regards to New Year's resolutions.

"No. But, I would like for all of us to write goals or accomplishments we would like to have this year."

Anyone that knows me knows I abhor resolutions. I frankly am not the biggest fan of New Year's either. For me, it was always another day in the cycle of life. January 1st meant I survived several cold months and very soon, by end of February, I can jump up and down with glee as the crocus' make their way out of the ground.

I never looked at New Year's as a mark where life resets itself. It's just another day. I struggled why people put such emphasis on one day a year that seemingly wiped the slate clean. We can never wipe our slates clean. It's what makes us who we are. We don't need one day a year where we suddenly can make change. We can always make changes any day of our lives.

I do, however, believe in goals. Goals to me are the closest my chaotic mind can get to organization. Goals lead to results. Perhaps, the results aren't what my mind had imagined, but they push me towards creating or removing things in my life. So, I make goals each year, throughout the year.

Recently, I had done research for a blog I was writing for work. This is what I shared with my daughter. I found that while most people don't succeed in their resolutions, those who don't make resolutions don't reach their goals as easily. I suppose it might stem from having that vision in your mind that you clearly want to manifest. I buy into the whole power of attraction thing. You know when people say "I have to see it to believe it" thing? I believe that you have to visualize it, feel it in your bones, to help make it come to fruition. So, thus, goals for me are one way of doing so.

Usually, I make a mental catalogue of things I would love to do. I think about them, meditate upon them, and use my intuition to see whether or not they are part of my path at the moment. This year, however, we were writing them down. And then? We fed them to the fire.

Fire is a tool I have used for manifesting things. It is amazing to watch your idea, your desire, your intention burn up, and leaving it up to fate to create the opportunity. There's something magical about just letting it go. It's like the Buddha Board I have at my studio. You paint with water and a paint brush and soon thereafter, your painting is gone. You learn to let go.

My husband had a fire going for us in our chimney. After we all carefully wrote down around five goals, we took turns adding them to the fire. I waited until the end, popped my folded paper in and watched it sit there on the right hand side, not catching fire. Everyone had tossed theirs in the center left. I, of course, do everything my own way and in my own time. Burning up my intentions was apparently no different.

My husband kindly blew into the chimney trying to get the paper to ignite. I, however, moved in and using the poker nudged my paper over. It finally burned bright, releasing my goals into the spirit of fire.

Maybe, New Year's is more than just a day where I get to hang out in my PJ's. Perhaps, it's like the fire. You can burn up what you don't need anymore, offer up what you do, and cross your fingers for something new to begin.