When I write, I feel a flow from my heart to my fingertips – my heart expressing itself on the page. What wants to be known? revealed? said?

Sometimes my heart wants to share the joy its feeling, like when I wrote a story about our dog Cally, a black lab who joined our family in 1997 as an eight-week-old puppy. The memory of her sings in my heart.  As I wrote about her, tears welled up in my eyes. I could feel her floppy black velvety ears between my fingers. I laughed as I wrote about her running errands with me, of how she would jump into the back seat of the car, settle in, and nap the entire time. I could feel her sad brown eyes looking at me when the cat was sleeping on her bed, only to later find the two of them sleeping together – black cat, black dog, in an acquiescent bundle.

Writing about Cally reminded me how much love I held in my heart for her and how, for sixteen and a half years, she brought an immeasurable amount of joy to our family.

The heart is tender; she holds me in her embrace until I’m ready to write about those things that need to be put onto the page, to relieve the built-up pressure of a life lived. This past year has challenged me as I’ve written about my past, those childhood years that shaped me. My heart wanted me to write about them so she could show me I didn’t have to hold onto those memories any longer. Writing let the flood gates open and the story that had been encompassing me my entire life, flowed out onto the page, allowing me to see it differently. I can feel the release. I can feel a new me emerging.

Through all the writing, I’ve noticed my old self hasn’t gone easily. It’s wanted to hold on, but my heart said, “keep going.” So I did.

The heart, in her wisdom, holds us in our truth. She knows it can be easier to stay with the old familiar ways. But she also knows that something better awaits. She encourages me to write, so I do.

“Sure, we can do Thanksgiving at my house this year,” I said to my sister. “But do you really want to drive three hours?”

For many years, my mother hosted Thanksgiving at her house. She claimed it was her favorite holiday. I’m not sure why it was so special for her. I don’t remember it being her favorite holiday when I was growing up, but things change, especially as we get older. When my own kids were little, she made holidays easy for us and didn’t expect us to travel to spend the day with her. So, when the grand-kids were grown and she claimed Thanksgiving as her favorite holiday, calling in July to remind us she’d be hosting at her house, no one complained.

My sister would drive three hours making stops along the way to gather her clan. My family would collect at our house and we’d drive two hours to gather for the day, arriving at my mother’s house in Vermont mid-morning making sure to time it so we wouldn’t get caught up in the annual Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race, an event that pulls in hundreds of runners. The route went through the village and ended right where we’d turn to get onto my mother street. If we mistimed our arrival, it could take a quarter of an hour to work our way through all the mingling participants. She’d call each Thanksgiving eve to remind us of the event.

Her house was over a hundred years old, and typical of an old New England farmhouse with its small rooms, it had a small kitchen. Actually, it wasn’t that the kitchen itself was small, she did have a large farm table in it, but rather, it was the twenty-four linear inches of counter space filled with a coffee maker and a toaster-oven that made it feel small as we tried to prepare our Thanksgiving dinner. After a few years though, the kitchen became the stage of a beautifully choreographed ballet – we each knew where we should be, and when.

Our Thanksgiving was, in fact, so well choreographed, that my mother could sit in the living room with her glass of wine, never needing to lift a finger, which was good because she had a tendency to become overwhelmed with people in her house. I was never sure if she actually enjoyed having us all at her house for Thanksgiving, or if it was the idea of it that made it her favorite holiday. To make it as easy as possible for her, we’d do all the set up and made sure her house looked like no one had been there, except for a few leftovers, when we left.

Whoever arrived first would be assigned the task of bringing a table down the steep and narrow stairs from the second floor and place it next to the regular dining table. We’d collect chairs and set ten places with table linens, fall-themed cloth napkins, and my mother’s Friendly Village dishes.

Since it would have been impossible to prepare from scratch in that kitchen, my sister would bring an already spatchcocked turkey and appetizers, my mother would make the potatoes, squash and deviled eggs ahead of our arrival, and I’d bring my homemade cranberry sauce and creamed onions that I’d heat up in my slow cooker.

We’d set up a folding card table for the pumpkin pies and other assorted desserts at one end of the kitchen between the two front windows that looked out onto two coolers full of wine and beer on the kitchen porch. I always brought along extra jars so everyone could take home a serving or two of my homemade Indian pudding, a New England tradition and family favorite. Made with cornmeal, butter, milk and molasses, and baked in the oven for three hours, the pudding is rich and delicious and thank God Thanksgiving only comes once a year. We learned, after several Thanksgivings, that the pudding was too rich to eat on a full tummy. But not wanting to miss out on it, everyone would settle for a small taste as long as they could take a serving home for later.

Have you ever noticed how once the turkey’s been in the oven for only a short while, it starts to waft its turkey-ness throughout the house? It establishes itself early in the day and, depending on how big the turkey and how many people are sitting down for dinner, it can take center stage for several days. The routine at my house was always turkey dinner, then turkey tetrazzini, followed by turkey sandwiches on homemade bread, with dressing, and cranberry sauce. Then finally, when the carcass was picked apart, I would make turkey soup. For some reason, turkey soup is not my favorite. I haven’t decided if it’s the soup I don’t care for, or if it’s the idea of having to eat more turkey. Perhaps I could freeze it and see if it tastes better in January.

Back in my mother’s kitchen with the turkey out of the oven, my son would start on the task of carving while I made the gravy. Making gravy from scratch, tasting the richness of the turkey drippings, adds a touch to the turkey dinner that canned gravy cannot, and never will, match.

Making a delicious homemade gravy, starting with a combination of a roux made with flour and butter, then whisked together with the de-fatted drippings from the roasting pan and liquid from the cooked giblets, is pretty easy and definitely not on anyone’s diet. Adding fresh ground pepper helps bring out the turkey flavor.

Olives, pickles, and nuts were placed on the table, away from the little kids, along with the cranberry sauce, creamed onions, dressing, rolls, squash, potatoes, the gravy boat, and the platter of turkey. My sister would always insist on something green, so there might be Brussel sprouts, green peas, or green beans as well. A meal worthy of a blessing.

Then there was that one Thanksgiving. The one when my brother came home from California with his at-the-time-girlfriend and his two adult daughters. It was wonderful to have them visit, but was, without a doubt, my least favorite Thanksgiving. My brother’s girlfriend, who was the nervous type and needed to keep busy, decided she’d be in charge of our Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t think it ever occurred to her that she might be intruding on our tradition, the tradition where I was in charge. She was invading my well-established territory and I wasn’t happy about it, but I could accommodate her knowing, in all likelihood, we wouldn’t be seeing her again. It all worked out okay – I guess. I just have to say that I’ve never heard of anyone cooking quartered potatoes for three hours, but apparently it was her specialty.

The following year, when we gathered at my mother’s house, we were right back in our groove, dancing around each other, grateful for the opportunity to come together and laugh and enjoy the day. We didn’t know it would be our last Thanksgiving with her. I thought we’d be dancing in that kitchen forever.

When November arrived, the year my mother died, we realized Thanksgiving had become a time we all looked forward to. We’d miss not getting our families together. In honor my mother, my niece offered to host Thanksgiving at her house which meant we’d each only have to drive an hour-and-a-half. It was very sweet of her. We’d continue the same tradition of bringing side-dishes and doing as much of the work ahead as possible. Being a new mother, in a new house, with newly acquired in-laws can be exhausting, and as plans shifted from hosting our family of six, to hosting her eight in-laws as well, we had to change plans. We moved our Thanksgiving to Saturday, so the in-laws could gather on Thanksgiving Day, but my poor niece. Even the most superhuman host would be hard pressed to manage two Thanksgivings. We had to come up with a better plan.

I offered to host at my house, but what if no one wanted to drive three hours for the day?

“Well, you’re the matriarch now,” my sister informed me, “so yes, let’s have it at your house.”

“That’s great,” I said, and added, “but I want to start a new tradition. If we gather together the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the kids won’t have to decide which family to spend the actual holiday with, and everyone can bring their leftovers. We can all relax and enjoy our time together.”

And that’s how our new tradition of Leftover Thanksgiving got started. Our first year we had turkey tetrazzini, the next year we had turkey sandwiches with all the fixings. I’m still not game for turkey soup, although I suppose it might be worth a try. As long as we have Indian pudding and family – why not?

It had been a tough morning and the day never improved. Jenny had arrived late to work having spent too much time trying to get her hair just right.

“Damn it” she yelled as she slammed the hairdryer onto the vanity.

“Why do I have to deal with this every single day? Why can’t I have hair that just does what I tell it?”

Even before she had opened her eyes, the day went downhill. Jenny started thinking about her weight.

What was the scale going to say this morning?

Most of Jenny’s mornings started out this way. The worry over the scale, the hair that wouldn’t cooperate, the decision about what she could wear that would cover up her bulging tummy and thighs.

After dragging herself out of bed, she walked stiffly into the bathroom, removed her nightgown and tried not to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the roll around her midsection and the cellulite that had collected on her thighs. She took a deep inhale and stepped onto the scale. 165.

“Shit. What is wrong with this thing? Why can’t I ever lose any weight.”

Well Jenny of course you know why. You eat too much. I remind you of this every day.

Ever since she and Paul had gotten married, Jenny had been in a constant battle with her weight. When she was in high school, she was slim, never thinking about what she ate, and could wear all the stylish clothes. Now she just felt fat. She would go on diets, but they would consistently last until her willpower wore off which was generally around week two. Sometimes they would last longer. There were times when she wouldn’t even make it home from work. Those diets always ended with a quart of ice cream.

Occasionally, when she was feeling in control, Jenny would have a frozen diet dinner or she’d stop at the grocery store and grab a prepared diet meal. She was always hungry. Except for those evenings when dinner was take-out pizza followed by a quart of ice cream. The battle with the scale was never ending and this morning was no different.

As she stood in front of her closet inspecting her options, Jenny’s frustration started to peak. “If I could lose 35 lbs, then I would actually feel good wearing some of these clothes.”

You’d look great Jenny. Remember when you were in high school? Wow those were the days.

She reached for her black Flax linen pants with the elastic waist. Everything else was either too tight or didn’t land properly on her 5’6” frame.

“I look like a frump,” she said as she gave herself the once over glaring at her thighs. “There isn’t one piece of clothing in this closet that actually looks good on me.” She burst into tears.

Each morning was the same – she’d beat herself up leaving no body part unscathed by her disapproval.

You tell it Jenny, all this weight gain is ridiculous.

Jenny made her way downstairs where the next battle loomed – the one over breakfast. She still had to make her “you failed the scale” lunch. Life was absolute torture and there was nothing she could do about it. She hated her life and everything about it.

“Why was life so damn cruel,” she wondered?

She made a mental note to contact the therapist whose phone number she had been carrying around in her wallet for the past year.

***

Jenny dragged herself to work managing to hit every red light, turning a 20-minute drive into 40 minutes. She could feel her already pounding heart starting to beat faster. Damn, she was going to be late for the third time this week and it was only Wednesday.

“Morning Jenny, hit all the red lights again?”

“Good Morning Roger and yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Whoa Jenny you’re late and Priscilla’s been looking for you,” Jenny’s friend and closest working partner Brenna whispered. “Better scoot over to her office asap, she didn’t look too happy.”

Jenny dropped the bags containing her lunch and the work she’d taken home into her cubical chair and went directly to Priscilla’s office where she learned that the timeline for a project she’d been working on had been moved up. She had 14 days to complete the Emerson project instead of 4 weeks. Her heart pounded even harder and Jenny could feel her hands start to shake.

Before heading back to her desk, Jenny stopped into the coffee room and made herself a cup of black coffee. She hated black coffee, but her diet prescribed that she take it that way. As she waited for the coffee to drip into her “Life’s a Bitch and Then you Die” mug, she noticed someone had brought in donuts. Krispy Kreme’s. Her favorite.

“Oh look there’s a Boston Cream – I haven’t had one of those in years,” Jenny mused as she reached for a napkin and the donut. She took it and the coffee back to her desk.

Taking that first bite was sheer delight. It tasted just how she had remembered as a kid - the sweet chocolate topping, the cakey goodness, and then the silky custard center. Heaven in a bite. Jenny could feel her entire body relax. She thought about her grandmother who would stop at Krispy Kreme whenever Jenny slept over, always getting two Boston Creams just for Jenny.

“How’s it going Jenny?” Roger’s voice made her jump in her seat.

“Fine,” Jenny replied, “why?”

“Just checking. I heard your timeline for the big account got moved and I was hoping you’d be able to manage it.”

“Of course I can manage it Roger,” Jenny was enraged. Didn’t she always manage? Wasn’t she ‘Jenny who can do anything,’ always putting work first? She went to finish the donut, but it was gone - eaten along with the sensation of peace that she so rarely felt anymore.

When lunchtime rolled around, Jenny’s co-workers decided they needed a pick-me-up lunch. When they ordered take-out, everyone was expected to join in so Jenny ordered General Tao’s chicken with the orangey-red sweet and sour sauce. She secretly hoped that no one would notice that she would be eating her salad instead. But, as usual, she smelled the take-out, she ignored her salad, and since she was on a time crunch for her project, she ate so fast no even remembered seeing her in the lunchroom.

Her bloated stomach left her feeling queasy and gassy all afternoon. She found the only way to relieve the pressure was to get up and walk around.

“Are you okay?” Brenna asked her when she noticed Jenny’s fifth lap around the cubicles.

“Fine.” Jenny replied as she tried to smile. “Just trying to get some ideas formulated for my project.”

***

When Jenny pulled into her driveway that night, she turned off the radio that she had tuned to her local public radio station, and sat in the silence. What was she going to do? She was a mess. She felt like crap and worse, she couldn’t see how life could ever be any different.

“Is this it? At forty-five years old is my life going to be a series of days like today?”

Jenny’s divorce had left her feeling empty inside. She was angry that things didn’t work out. Paul wanted what she couldn’t give him. But no - no more attempts at love. Having her heart broken once was more than enough. But still, there had to be more to life than this.

Jenny emerged from the car and scuffed her way up the walkway to her front door. Stepping into the foyer, she kicked off the heels that killed her feet and threw her handbag onto the chair. Her briefcase, filled with the impossible pile of unfinished work, went on the dining room chair. She walked into the kitchen and tossed her uneaten salad into the refrigerator.

“What a shit of a day. If only I could lose this weight,” Jenny thought, “I’d be so much happier. I’d be able to handle these kinds of days. Life would be so much easier.”

Oh Jenny, you’re so sad, ice cream will make you feel better. And there’s some of those cookies you bought and hid. They’d be good too!

“Maybe,” she thought to herself.

Jenny peered inside the fridge. Nothing. Her stomach was still uncomfortable from the lunchtime take-out fiasco. Why had she indulged in that disgusting food when she had brought a delightful salad? Was it delightful she thought? What was delightful about it?

She pictured the salad she had made for lunch. Lettuce. She had chosen a packaged red leaf lettuce for her salad. She preferred the packaged variety because she didn’t have to wash it and it was already cut up. She’d put a cup of lettuce went into the Tupperware container, along with two thin slices of cucumber halved, and a quarter cup of diced baked chicken breast. Jenny’s diet dictated that she eat the least amount of fat possible so her chicken was always baked and her salad dressing consisted of squeezed lemon with pepper. Sometimes she’d toss in some grated carrots or diced celery, but this morning she had been feeling particularly loathsome so she kept her salad to a minimum.

Jenny’s mind moved to breakfast. She liked to start her day on the right foot and would often skip breakfast so she could feel in control of her hunger pangs. She had heard that warm lemon water calmed the sensation of hunger and also worked as a detox, so it felt good to be managing two things at once. Since she wasn’t eating breakfast, she relied on supplements to give her the nutrients she knew she was missing.

Jenny felt skipping breakfast was her way of telling her body that she was in charge. She might not be able to control her hair, but by god she was going to lose those 35 pounds. Skipping breakfast and her meager salad were proof that she was serious.

And now with nothing in the fridge except her salad ingredients, Jenny was at a loss.

“I’m hungry,” she exclaimed out loud.

Well Jenny, you can always order pizza delivery.

“No! I am not ordering pizza. That would be the third time this week!”

But you know you love pizza.

“But I’ve already had that gawd-awful take-out at lunch and I’m on a DIET!!!”

Well you said you were hungry, I’m just trying to be helpful.

Jenny paused for a moment.

“Who the hell am I talking with?” she wondered, feeling very confused.

She walked into the living room and as she eased into her oversized armchair, Jenny became very quiet. A soft blanket of curiosity covered her and she sat looking at nothing in particular.

What was that voice she wondered? The voice that seemed to direct her every move; the voice that was non-stop telling her what to eat, what not to eat; the voice that told her to go on a diet and then tempted her with cookies and pizza? What was this voice that kept her in a tailspin day in and day out? Was she going mad? This voice that told her she wasn’t good enough first thing in the morning, that told her she was a FAILURE when she got onto the scale, that told her not to eat breakfast, and that a skimpy salad would have to be her lunch. The voice that talked her into eating take-out and delivery, that let her only buy chicken breast and make that goddamned pathetic dressing for her salad.

 Where did this voice come from and how did it ever get control over her?

Jenny sat quietly in her chair as questions and curiosity enveloped her like a tornado, picking her up in one spot, spinning and shaking her, and then touching down leaving her in a different place entirely.

***

The sun streamed in through the window and onto Jenny curled up in her oversized chair. Her eyes opened, but she didn’t move. She felt calm. Everything around her felt spacious and new. Her breath was slow and relaxed.
Jenny recalled dreaming about a woman. She could sense the beauty of this woman. It wasn’t her physical appearance as much as the glow that emanated from her. This woman was radiant. As Jenny walked toward her, she could feel herself being drawn as though a tractor beam was pulling her in. Jenny could have turned around and walked away, but she was curious. What made this woman so radiant? Jenny was very curious.

The woman, who introduced herself as Lucinda, invited Jenny to sit down. Jenny noticed two chairs and a lace-covered table with a floral-patterned teapot, two matching cups with saucers, and a plate of jam-filled cookies. Lucinda smiled and offered Jenny a cup of tea.

Jenny watched as Lucinda poured the tea. Lucinda poured a cup for Jenny and then one for herself. Lucinda offered a blessing of gratitude for the tea, thanked Jenny for her company, and then they drank. The tea was delicious and Jenny could feel it energizing and warming her. She asked Lucinda about the tea, was it a special blend? Jenny had never tasted anything like it.

“Dearest beloved” Lucinda said, “the special blend in this tea is love. When something is made with love, it creates its own kind of magic.”

“What do you mean ‘made with love’?” Jenny asked. What was this woman talking about? Jenny noticed that being in this woman’s presence was extremely relaxing. She felt like she could stay in this strange place forever.

Lucinda continued, “Inside each of us is a piece of divinity, love consciousness. It can get covered by life’s events and by the ego, whose purpose is to survive. It can feel like a dark cloud, but when it’s exposed, then the love that is our true self can shine through. When you can live from the love that is within you and see that you yourself are a source of love, everything will change. The fear that consumes you and the control you think you need to survive are replaced by the knowing that you’re an eternal being of love living a human experience. Then love permeates all that you think and do, becoming your partner and changing your experience of life. Learn to love yourself.”

The words glided off Lucinda’s tongue and into Jenny’s heart.

Sitting curled up in her chair, Jenny felt a loving energy as she recalled Lucinda’s words. She felt the warm glow of Lucinda’s radiance.

Jenny noticed she felt hungry. It was a different kind of hunger than she had felt in the past. She felt hungry for life.

***

Even with her project at work looming over her, Jenny decided that she needed to take the day off. She felt a strong desire to be in the company of herself.

Jenny didn’t enjoy her job. She had started working for the company part time before the divorce to bring in a little extra income for vacations and house repairs. As a graphic designer she enjoyed the creative component of her work. Now she needed the income and worked full time. The constant deadlines and stress made the job overly demanding and Jenny found the clients to be particularly challenging. How many times had she nearly completed a project when the client would decide to change content or go in a different direction with no deadline extension? Yet she always pulled it off often working late, bringing work home and working on weekends. Work had become her life, but it was all she had.

“Priscilla, hi, this is Jenny. Hey I know I have a tight deadline on the Emerson project, but I’m not going to be in today. I need the day off. Yes, don’t worry, I’ll get the project done, you know I always do.”

Jenny broke off the connection and decided to call Brenna. The call went to voice mail.

“Hey Brenna, I’m not going to be in the office today. Nothing to worry about, just taking the day off. See you tomorrow.”

Still in her clothes from the day before and feeling a bit hungry, Jenny decided to make her hot water and lemon breakfast/detox before taking a shower.

This tastes a bit underwhelming she thought to herself. Perhaps something else would taste a bit more interesting. Finding nothing in the fridge except her lettuce and carrots, Jenny decided to go get her shower.

She shed her clothes as she walked through the bedroom. As she entered the bathroom, she saw her scale sitting on the bathroom floor awaiting her daily weigh-in. Does this have to be a daily thing Jenny wondered? Why do I weigh myself every single day?

You know you need to Jenny. How else will you know what to eat today?

That voice. What was it Lucinda had told her in her dream? That the voice she was hearing, the ego, wanted to survive. Jenny could feel the truth of this statement. It wanted to survive alright. It didn’t really care about her. It didn’t care that it was taking her to unhealthy places. Its role was to be in charge and right now it wanted her to step onto the scale.

“No, I won’t do it.” This declaration surprised Jenny. Gathering herself, she continued “Not today and maybe not tomorrow either.”

Don’t be a fool Jenny. You know you need to weigh yourself. 

Jenny remembered Lucinda saying that she needed to love herself, that when we can see the ego for what it is, then the love that is our true self can shine through. The truth of these words was in her bones and she felt them like a soothing balm on tired skin.

In the shower, the hot water flowing over her body felt fantastic. When was the last time she enjoyed the feeling of a hot shower? She took them every day, but she couldn’t recall a time when she actually noticed the water energizing her as it touched her body. Her body with its wrinkles and cellulite. But it was hers. She surprised herself when she looked at herself and saw the beauty in her flabby, not perfect body.

For crying out loud Jenny, get a grip! Your body’s fat and ugly and you need to lose weight! You need to get on that scale so you know how much weight you need to lose! Who are you kidding?

But instead of latching onto these thoughts, Jenny felt Lucinda’s words rolling around in her mind and in her heart. She didn’t have the desire to beat herself up. Somehow, she was able to see her body differently. She was also able to hear the voice very loud and clear and it was sounding rather desperate.

***

She was craving fresh air. Jenny lived only a few blocks away from a locally owned natural food store that she had only been in one time. She thought it was expensive even though she could afford the prices. Fresh produce from local farmers had held no particular meaning to her and organic food felt overly hyped.

As Jenny decided to walk the five blocks to the store, she slipped on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. It was a lovely day. The breezy summer air gave her a sense of aliveness she rarely felt. She walked past the house next door, noticing the beautiful hydrangeas that were blooming profusely. She wondered if they always looked like that.

As Jenny entered Gloria’s Natural Food Store, she was greeted with a blast of earthy welcoming smells. This was not like the grocery store where she usually shopped for her few meager items – packaged lettuce, lemons, carrots and celery. She hated grocery shopping. She hated the idea of having to waste her time standing in the bright lights, dealing with people who pushed and nudged, not to mention that she found the smell of the grocery store to be offensive. It all added up to an experience that she put off as long as she could.

This store was a completely different. She was trying to remember why she didn’t like shopping here. Glancing over the produce section, Jenny saw some delicious looking apples. She picked out two. The fresh heads of lettuce caught her attention as well as a bunch of fresh asparagus. She thought maybe she’d try a salad with a few more vegetables in it. She could cook the asparagus and have it with some fish one night and have the leftover with her salad during the week. She put a few more vegetables in her basket.

As Jenny meandered through the store, she noticed that she was enjoying reading labels and looking at the variety of food. Her basket was getting full – eggs, olive oil, yogurt, bananas. What was happening here? Why was she all of a sudden interested in eating? These food items weren’t on her diet. In fact, food in general wasn’t allowed on her diet.

Listen Jenny, you have to put this stuff back or just put the basket on the floor and leave. You don’t need this stuff. It’s going to make you fatter. You’ve really gone off the rails.

The voice was persistent and Jenny found this interesting. She hadn’t noticed the voice as much as she was noticing it today and quite frankly, it was becoming a pain in the neck. She tried to ignore it, but it continued.

Jenny, be reasonable. Not only is this food going to make you fatter, it’s going to cost a small fortune. Save your money for those new fat clothes you need.

Perhaps this was all true, Jenny thought, but the voice of desperation was becoming more amusing than alarming. Jenny enjoyed the music, the smells and the ambiance of the store, and to her surprise, she found that she was smiling.

As she meandered her way down one last aisle, she saw some boxes of tea. She stopped in front of the display and a box fell off the shelf and onto the floor.
“That’s interesting.” Jenny looked at the box. The design on the box reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wasn’t a tea drinker per se, but the design intrigued her so she tossed the box into her overflowing basket.

Working her way to the check-out counter, Jenny found herself looking forward to a bowl of bananas and yogurt. She paid for her items and carried the two large bags toward home. As she walked, Jenny hummed a little tune. The tune sounded vaguely familiar. After a couple of rounds, she recognized it as the tune Lucinda had been humming when Jenny first approached her in the dream.

***

When Jenny arrived home, she went into the kitchen to put her groceries away. She looked over her purchases.

Now you’ve done it. All this food and it’ll all go to waste. You don’t cook. There’s nothing here that’s on your diet except the lettuce.

She heard the voice, but it wasn’t making sense. She knew how to cook. Of course she did. Maybe she didn’t cook, but she certainly knew how. It was time to take charge.

Jenny put some fresh water into her teakettle, plugged it in, and opened the box of tea she had bought. Although she couldn’t identify the aromas blossoming out of the tea bag, it smelled heavenly. She placed her hot water and lemon/detox “Life Sucks” mug, that she brought home from the Yankee Swap last Christmas, on the counter. As she went to put the teabag into the mug, she remembered the beautiful china teacups Lucinda had served her tea in.

***

How had life become so tense, contracted, and lonely Jenny wondered. Life had been fun, once. Before the divorce, she and Paul would entertain often and enjoy evenings with friends. Jenny loved to cook and her kitchen was fantastic. The pantry and the wine cellar were always full, ready for a three-course dinner with the slightest notice. That all came crashing down when Paul asked for a divorce.

Now it seemed like Jenny was in a spiral of self-loathing, pity and even hate sometimes.

Work was her life now and she was starting to resent it too. When would it end, she asked out loud.

“It ends when you ask it to.”

“Oh my god, more voices,” Jenny cried out! But this voice was quiet and comforting. And familiar.

“Lucinda?”

“Yes dear?”

“I thought you were a dream.”

“I am if you want me to be,” Lucinda replied, “but I can be here with you now too, if you’d like.”

“Oh Lucinda.” Jenny cried. “Life is so hard.”

“I know,” Lucinda replied, “Life Sucks. Right?”

“Oh no, no, no!” Jenny jumped to her feet and thought about the saying on her mug. “No, I don’t believe that.”

“But you read your mug every day,” Lucinda reminded her. “You reinforce this statement to yourself every time you read it. Whether you think you believe it or not, is not the point. The truth is when you repeat words to yourself through reading, or thinking, or by saying them out loud, you begin to believe them. And then one day it’s a part of you.”

“If you were to stop using that mug,” Lucinda continued, “and perhaps got yourself one that had a nice saying on it, like ‘I love you,’ then you can see for yourself if it makes a difference.”

“That sounds way too easy.”

“I only suggested that you give it a try and see for yourself. I would think with the all of the beautiful dishes you have you could find a tea cup that would suit you rather nicely,” Lucinda assured Jenny.

“Yes, I suppose so. I don’t use those dishes except for, well, never actually. They seem too nice to use for every day. Plus I usually eat out of the plastic container my food comes in, that way I don’t have to do dishes – no clean up, you know.”
“I do know,” Lucinda replied, “and that’s what I want to talk with you about.”

Lucinda shared with Jenny how eating was an intimate and sacred act that honored the human body.

“A relaxed relationship with food speaks of Love, Trust, and Gratitude. When you eat to lose weight, that’s not honoring the body, that’s trying to control it. It’s contracting and painful. If you can be in relationship with food and your body, you’ll start to feel a sense of ease and empowerment. Your body loves you and it wants to be in relationship with you.” Lucinda concluded, “As you create awareness around eating, you’ll start to feel a sense of expansion.”

Jenny sat in her chair, her eyes closed. The words from Lucinda filled Jenny’s heart and the space around her. Lovely, meaningful, joyful. She wasn’t able to move, so she sat breathing gently, letting Lucinda’s love embody her. Lucinda’s words were so simple yet they carried a profound wisdom.

***

Are you planning on doing anything today?

The voice jolted Jenny to open her eyes and see that the afternoon sun was shining in through the back doors. What time is it? She wondered.

Time for you to be doing something!

Jenny went over to the hutch that held her grandmother’s china set. The pattern was violets on white bone china so thin Jenny could practically see through the plate when she held it up to the light. Her grandmother had gotten the set during a trip to Canada when Jenny was a little girl. The dishes were never used, but her grandmother would show them to Jenny when she came to visit.

“These will be yours one day.” She would say to Jenny and Jenny would smile with delight.

The set had luncheon plates, cups and saucers, small bowls and a teapot. Jenny loved the set so much she bought a hutch especially for it. She loved looking at the dishes through the glass door fronts, but she had never used them. They were as pristine as the day her grandmother had purchased them on that trip to Niagara Falls.

Jenny opened the door and took out a lunch plate, a teacup and saucer, and brought them into her well-equipped kitchen. When she purchased her house after the divorce, it needed some updating, so Jenny took some of the money she had inheritance from her parents and remodeled the kitchen and bathrooms to suit her taste. They were gorgeous. Although she rarely cooked, Jenny took great pride in her state-of-the-art appliances and granite counter tops. She had an island large enough to seat 3 people and beautiful French doors that led out to a deck in the back of the house. She had expected the house would be great for entertaining, but then she got busy with work. The thought of work made her heart sink.

Oh how Jenny longed for the day when she could let that job go. The demands were becoming intolerable. She’d start thinking about her to-do list on the drive in and work non-stop until six or later some nights. Often she’d bring work home. She had planned for her second bedroom to be a guestroom, but instead it was set up as an office. She was angry that work had taken over her life.

When she and Paul were still married, the job worked out great. Twenty hours a week, Tuesday through Thursday and they had Friday through Monday for long weekend getaways. She loved traveling and they always found somewhere fun to go. A weekend on the Maine coast at a cute little bed and breakfast was Jenny’s favorite. They’d eat lobster and walk on the beach picking up heart shaped rocks. Paul would always have some impromptu idea of a museum to tour or a hike. When they were in Bar Harbor they would rent bikes and ride around the park. Jenny loved thinking about those times. Until she remembered they weren’t married anymore and Paul was going on those adventures with someone else while Jenny was stuck working.

When was the last time she had gone on vacation? Where would she go? Who would she go with? Herself? Even work sounded more appealing than a vacation by herself.

Jenny headed into the kitchen to start some dinner. She found she was quite hungry.

A pizza would taste good. No need to worry about the calories since you’re at practically zero for the day. You could even get extra cheese.

The voice amused Jenny. She was looking at the beautiful piece of fish she had purchased at Gloria’s Natural Food Store and it looked very appealing. She pulled the asparagus out of the refrigerator and put it on the counter along with the lemon. How did she want to prepare the fish?

Jenny usually ate her fish plain to keep the calories count low, but tonight she had the inclination to make something a little more elaborate. Maybe she’d bake the fish and pour a little lemon butter with seasonings over it. She had some butter in the freezer she could use, lord knows she had lemons. She cut the bottoms off her asparagus, put the stems in the steamer and prepared a place setting at her island.

When the food was cooked, she arranged it onto one of her grandmother’s violet bone china plates. Perfect.

She sat down at the island to eat, but something wasn’t quite right. This beautiful meal was meant to be eaten at the table she thought. Jenny picked up her plate, utensils, and placemat and placed them onto her oval cherry dining table. Geez, she thought, I haven’t eaten in here in ages, I can’t even remember the last time.

The fish tasted glorious. And the asparagus was cooked to perfection.

I must do this more often Jenny thought to herself with a smile.

After cleaning up the dishes and putting the leftover asparagus away to be used in tomorrow’s salad, Jenny walked over to her briefcase with the work she had brought home.

She flipped through the project brief and tossed it aside. This day had been delightful and she wanted to keep it that way. She headed up stairs to take a bath.

You’re going to have to look at yourself. You’ll see all that fat and get all sad you know. Maybe you should just watch TV.

The bath felt luxurious. Jenny had found some Epsom salts in the bathroom closet and a bottle of lavender essential oils in a gift box she had received from Brenna on her last birthday. The warmth of the bath and the fragrance of the lavender worked their magic and as Jenny closed her eyes she drifted off.
Jenny could see a glorious day at the beach. She was lying on her beach blanket next to Paul, her face and body soaking up the warm rays of the sun.

“When are you going to see the doctor?” Paul had asked.

“I don’t know. Do we need to talk about this now?”

“Well, we need to talk sometime.”

“I just can’t Paul.”

Jenny would have cried, but she was all cried out and the day was so beautiful she didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want Paul to know that she had no intention of going to the doctor. She had no desire to confirm that she couldn’t have kids. If the doctor told her she couldn’t, then Paul would leave her. It would be better left alone. Then there would always be hope.

But in the end, Paul left her anyway.

***

Good grief, how long have I been in here? Jenny wondered as she looked at the wrinkled skin on her fingers.

She climbed out the tub and put on her pink chenille bathrobe tying it around her middle and looked at herself in the mirror. Paul had broken her heart. But in truth, she now realized, she had broken his. She couldn’t face herself. She had lost the one thing, the one person who meant the most to her and now she was alone. All fucking alone.

***

In the morning, Jenny woke up after a few hours of sleep. She had tossed and turned most of the night thinking about Paul and how, after all these years, she still loved him.

It was Friday. She’d manage her way through work and then she’d have the weekend to regroup.

Such a loser, too bad you can’t lose weight. What’s the scale’s going to say today? You didn’t weigh yourself yesterday. Who knows how much weight you’ve gained. And it won’t be my fault, I told you to weigh yourself.

Jenny walked into the bathroom and looked at the scale. Shit, there it was. Every single morning. She felt like tossing it in the trash. What did it ever do for her besides make her feel like crap. Did it ever make her feel good? No! She kicked it under the vanity in disgust.

You’re going to be sorry. You’re going to wish you’d been getting on that scale so it could tell you how much weight you’re gaining.

Jenny remembered Lucinda’s words and chuckled. “You are quite persistent aren’t you?” Jenny said out loud to the voice. “What if I decide to never step on the scale again? It’s a machine that’s been dictating how I feel each morning. What if I just skip it?”

Determined to stay off the scale, Jenny hopped into the shower. As the warm water caressed her body, she felt a slight sense of renewal.

***

“Jenny! Meet me in the lobby at 5 o’clock sharp! Do not work late and do not tell me you can’t meet me.”

“Okay?” Jenny replied, but Brenna had left too quickly to hear Jenny’s response.

In the lobby at 5 o’clock, Brenna announced that they were headed to Brown’s, a local hangout, for cocktail hour. Jenny had given up alcohol after the divorce, but apparently Brenna thought it was a good idea to take her there anyway.

Brenna paid for the glass of white house wine and the seltzer with lime for Jenny. They sat down at an empty table near the front window.

“Jenny.” Brenna stated as though she needed to get Jenny’s attention.

“You’ll never guess who I saw at the grocery store last night, wearing a wedding ring and buying diapers!”

“Do I care?” Jenny said. She wasn’t really in the mood to play guessing games and was equally uninterested in a married man buying diapers.

“Well you should be! It was your ex. Paul.”

Jenny’s heart skipped a beat. “Paul? Why was Paul buying diapers?”

“Exactly! Well, I looked him up on Facebook and he’s married to some young thing and has two kids!” Brenna spoke like she had just won the lottery.

Jenny sat very still, not able to breathe. She didn’t really expect Paul would remain single and fatherless, did she? The news struck her. Hard. She couldn’t speak.

“Jenny, say something!”

Jenny got up and walked out of the bar. Brenna caught up with her a block away, slightly out of breath.

“Jenny slow down!”

“Go away Brenna! What were you thinking telling me this? Did you think I’d be happy? Did you think at all?”

“Geez Jenny, it’s been five years. I figured you’d be over him by now.”

“Really, Brenna? Dammit, it’s none of your business!”

Jenny wrapped her sweater around her and picked up her pace. Crying, she fumbled for her keys. By the time she reached her car she could barely see.
In the safety of her car, the tears came streaming down. How could Brenna be so thoughtless? How could anyone think she didn’t still have feelings for Paul? Even though he had left her, she still loved him. How could she not? He was sweet and funny and he had loved her.

Jenny would have stopped for ice cream at the grocery store, the one with the florescent lights and the weird smell, but her eyes were too puffy and red. She just wanted to go home.

Good thing you have those cookies hidden in the back of the cabinet.

She pulled into her driveway and slammed on the brakes. This voice! She didn’t want cookies, she wanted to be loved! Was that so much to ask?

If you can’t have the real thing, might as well go for second best!

Jenny got out of the car and slammed the door. When she got into the house she went upstairs, took off her work clothes and crawled into bed. Her mug was right, life did suck.

She thought about Paul being a proud father. She couldn’t give him what he wanted and someone else could. How could she deny him that? How could she deny him, the man she loved, the life he truly wanted? She couldn’t and she knew it. She wanted kids too, but it didn’t happen. They had each other and that was enough for her. But it wasn’t for Paul.

“Lucinda?” Jenny called out between sobs. “Are you here?”

“Yes, dearest, I’m here.”

“Lucinda, can you help me? I don’t know what to do. How can I live with myself? Maybe there was something I could have done. I didn’t want to face the truth and, in the end, I lost everything. What have I done Lucinda? I feel so empty.”

“Dearest, always remember, the love of the creator lives within you and does not judge you. Forgiveness is the key.”

What did Lucinda mean by that? Jenny wasn’t sure. Her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

***

A path. Where did it lead? Her feet landed softly as she walked carefully picking up each foot and placing it down gently sensing that there was no real bottom only grass that had that been bent over giving her support. Walking effortlessly, she saw a pond just ahead. Her sense of well-being reflected the smooth mirror-like surface of the water. She noticed a slight movement and a gentle ripple. As she approached the shoreline, she saw a large snakeskin abandoned on the path as its snake slipped into the pond. Jenny could see this was no ordinary snake.

***

Jenny awoke sensing a calmness that surprised her. She vividly recalled the large brown snakeskin on the shoreline. It was at least eight inches in diameter. She thought how snakes normally freaked her out, but when she saw this snakeskin and the ripple in the water, she was very calm.

A snake shedding its skin, she mused. Throwing back the duvet she slid out of bed, went into her office, and turned on her computer. “Snake shedding its skin” she typed into her web browser. To her surprise, there actually was a link for “snake shedding its skin symbolism.” It informed her that in a dream this could be symbol of rebirth, transformation, and healing.

As Jenny leaned back in her chair, she let out a deep exhale that came from so deep within her she felt her insides quiver.

***

It was Saturday and Jenny had promised herself that she was going to take the day to regroup. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions. She had been angry, confused, and sad with curious moments of delight sprinkled in. How enchanting Lucinda was with her wisdom. Jenny felt like she didn’t always understand what Lucinda was telling her, but at the same time, she felt like the meaning of Lucinda’s words were touching her heart. It was hard to explain, so Jenny didn’t try. She simply let them be and smiled.

As she pulled on her jeans, Jenny decided she’d walk over to the farmer’s market and browse the stalls. She hadn’t been over there since they opened several years ago. She moistened her hair with a spray bottle and tossed it with her fingers. Who cared if it wasn’t perfect, she thought as she pulled on her Life is Good baseball cap, the one she had gotten when she and Paul went to Maine.

That trip had been so much fun. She and Paul stayed at a sweet bed and breakfast located on the rocky shore and had taken a day trip to Monhegan Island. She smiled as she remembered how excited they were at finding lobster buoys in the woods on their trek around the island.

The walk to the farmer’s market felt lovely. She enjoyed getting out and stretching her legs. I wonder why I didn’t fall apart thinking about Paul just now? She felt a softness toward him that she hadn’t felt before and she invited more of that feeling.

The first stall Jenny came upon smelled heavenly.

“Good morning” Jenny said to the vendor. “I’d like an egg sandwich and a small coffee with a hint of cream, please.” She could smell the tempting aroma of cinnamon buns fresh from the small oven, but decided against them.

“I’ll just enjoy the smell” she thought.

With food and coffee in hand, Jenny looked around and saw an empty spot at the picnic tables set up in an open grassy area.

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?”

“No, go ahead.” The man looked up and Jenny noticed it was Roger from work.
“Oh, Roger!” Jenny remembered her manners and said, “What a surprise seeing you here.”

Roger got up to make room for Jenny.

“No please sit down Roger, I can find another spot.”

“It looks like there’s room for two over at that table.”

Roger led the way to the table and Jenny regretfully tagged along. He offered Jenny a seat.

“Thank you” Jenny said feeling a bit awkward. She knew Roger as an annoying pain in the neck at work and didn’t really want to sit and enjoy her special treat with him.

“Do you come here often?” Roger asked. “I come here every weekend to get my produce. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Well, actually, this is my first time.” She took a bite from her sandwich. It was as delicious as it smelled.

“Do you live in this neighborhood?” Roger asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, just a few blocks away.” Jenny wasn’t sure how much information she wanted to share with Roger, but he was acting rather congenial she thought. He definitely wasn’t being annoying.

“Me too.”

Jenny enjoyed a few more bites of her sandwich while Roger made small talk and chatted up some of the vendors.

“Well, I guess I’d better get shopping. You’ve made it all sound so wonderful, I don’t want all the good stuff to get bought up before I have a chance to see what’s here.” Jenny got up to leave.

“Nice chatting with you. See you around.” Roger replied.

“You too.”

Jenny dropped her wrapper and coffee cup in the trash and went about checking each of the stalls making purchases here and there.

In her excitement over the fresh and tantalizing produce she realized her reusable bags were practically full. She hadn’t experienced this kind of vibe before – it was thoroughly contagious. She decided perhaps she should leave some of this goodness for the other shoppers.

As she passed by the last stall, Jenny noticed some beautiful mugs. The vendor, noticing Jenny’s interest, commented that she had made them from local clay and she mixed her own glazes. She asked Jenny if there were any that she’d like to look at more closely, Jenny chose two. As she held each mug in turn, Jenny could feel the calm energy the mugs emitted. She felt as though they had been made just for her. The glaze was a stunning blue with lavender undertones – Jenny’s favorite colors.

“These are gorgeous. How much are they?”

“Fifteen dollars each.”

Jenny reached into her wallet and pulled out three tens.

“Thank you, these are perfect.”

***

Jenny felt proud of her purchases. She tucked one of the mugs in her brief case to take into work. She placed the other on the island and turned the kettle on.

Heading upstairs, Jenny went into her office closet and pulled out the journal she had purchased just after the divorce. Her therapist had suggested she write, but Jenny could never quite do it. Whenever she’d think about writing her hands would turn clammy and start shaking. Her feelings were so raw she was afraid of what she might write, so she put the journal in the closet and shut the door.

Now it seemed like something was stirring within her, something that wanted to be let out. She thought of the snake and how it had shed its skin. Was she like the snake leaving the old behind and moving into something new?

She sat in her cozy oversized chair sipping tea from her new mug. In her journal Jenny wrote how she had been at her breaking point just a few days ago. She put her pen down. Something was changing within her. The writing seemed cathartic. She picked her pen back up and continued to write. What she found most interesting was that she enjoyed it and she wasn’t holding back.

Closing the journal, Jenny sat back in her chair and let out a sigh. That felt good she admitted to herself.

“Life is good Jenny, when you allow it to be.”

“Lucinda?”

“Yes?”

“Lucinda, everything seems so different from just a few days ago. I don’t feel like the same person.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re not.”

“How did that happen Lucinda?”

“Through intent.”

“What’s next for me Lucinda?”

“That depends on what you want. It’s up to you.”

“Oh Lucinda. I want to be happy. I want to stop hating myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m my own worst enemy.”

“That change is already happening. Reread your journal entry and you will see that you’re already taking steps to be in a more loving relationship with yourself. Learning to love yourself unconditionally, without condition, requires letting go of the old and bringing in new thoughts and a new way of being.”

Jenny could feel the wisdom of Lucinda’s words. She opened her journal and jotted down what she wanted for herself. I want to be open to the joy that life has to offer me.

“That’s a start, but if you want it to be so, then write it as though it already is.” Lucinda commented.

Jenny rewrote the sentence. I am open to the joy that life has to offer me.”

“That’s better.”

This being human is amazing even if it is a full-time job. And it’s not like it’s even a forty hour a week job. It’s all day, every day, for decades - possibly for over a century.

It probably starts the same way every morning. If you’re lucky, you get to wake up when you feel like it, but mostly we wake up to an alarm – either digital or four-legged. We hop, drag or get ourselves pushed out of bed and begin our day.

How do you accept the challenge of a new day? Is it something you look forward to or do you tend to dread it.

Each day is a new beginning, so even if you dreaded yesterday, today you have a new opportunity.

I love that. I love knowing that I always have the opportunity to try a new way.
Being human is a gift we have given ourselves. Do you believe that? Can you see how your life, no matter how challenging, is a gift?

“Well,” you might say, “if it’s such a gift, why does it feel so hard sometimes?”
If your life feels hard, think about this:

Who do you know who has had the exact same life as you? The same experiences? The same joys? The same hardships?

No one.

Your life is unique and that’s because you have something to offer the world that no one else has. Every aspect of your life has made you who you are.

Can you take a moment and look at the parts of your life you don’t like in an honest and objective way? Step outside yourself and be an observer. Where are you being asked to grow? Chances are it’s the areas that you don’t like about yourself or some aspect of your circumstances.

These opportunities have been given to you, by yourself, for yourself to learn from.

“How can I find the solution to …?” is a question you can ask. What’s interesting is if you aren’t ready to find the solution, you wouldn’t have seen the problem.

If you have a situation that has become a pattern not of your liking, chances are there’s a part of you that wants to change that pattern, to move on from it.

There are many modalities to explore the issues you’re looking to resolve. I find doing inner child work is one way to explore what’s going on. Ask your inner child, “who inside is feeling ….?” He or she will reveal itself to you and you can then find out what it wants you to know – where it’s feeling pain or sadness. You can then parent that little one by letting it know it doesn’t have to carry the burden any longer. You can let it know it’s safe and loved.

Being human might not be a walk in the park all day, every day. But we should at least be able to feel the grandness of it and to be grateful for what we have. When you’re grateful for what you have, don’t be afraid to ask for more of it. Let existence know when you’re feeling it.

Allow yourself to feel the immensity and magnificence of your life. Do you get a kick out of knowing that you’re in this life for the long haul? Can you find your challenges to be experiences to grow from?

You chose this life. You’re here now. Each day is a new beginning to a life worth living. Your life.

We, each and every one of us, are glad you’re here with us.

I’ve been thinking about being stuck. Stuck as it applies to not wanting to change. Sometimes, even when we don’t like what we’re doing or how we’re behaving, thinking about stepping into a new way of being can be unsettling because we can feel like we’re stepping into the unknown.

Patterns of behavior are established for a reason, but what if the reason no longer exists? What if the pattern has become toxic in its old age?

What I find interesting is how we can learn about ourselves and the patterns we’re holding onto through our relationships. We learn about our triggers, we learn what we like, what we don’t like, what our needs are.

Relationships help us grow. But what happens if we don’t allow them to? For instance, what if you’re in a relationship that leaves you talking over and over to yourself or someone else about how much that person annoys you, how they don’t get you, or how they seem to hold a superior attitude?

Can you flip the script? Do you annoy you? Do you even understand yourself? Do you hold a me versus them attitude? Your relationship is a demonstration of where your growth lies.

Truly there are relationships that simply don’t work, where there’s nothing to be gained for either person. But I’d venture to say that for the most part, a relationship is established when the soul sees an opportunity for growth, when the soul says ‘hey, this person can be a great trigger and create an opportunity to see what’s wanting to be awakened!’

Without these triggers, we’d be A+ sleep walkers living in our comfort zone of discomfort. But that’s not the point. We want to grow. Our soul wants us to have the experience of waking up and bringing some of our beliefs and patterns of behavior into our conscious awareness.

There’s no better way than to pair you up with someone who triggers you.
But then what?

How do we move beyond being annoyed?

We have to take the time to go within and see what’s being triggered. This excavation for me tends to be inner child work.

The inner child has held onto everything. Every word, every emotion, every experience - especially in your early years when you weren’t able to process words and emotions. It’s all stored in your subconscious. These little morsels, that you’re not even aware of but are driving your thoughts and actions, act out in your relationships so you can wake up to them.

One thing I’ve come to learn with inner child work is most of the time the inner child is really tired. It doesn’t want all these tapes running on replay. It wants you to adult-up and do something about them.

Letting go of being stuck, as uncomfortable as it may seem, learning about and releasing old patterns will change you. You will be stepping into the unknown. But it’s an unknown that will hold you in love.

You’ll find there’s a beautiful world waiting for you that is beyond even your wildest imagination.

The other day, after watching A Man Called Otto, my sister and I were talking about Tom Hanks and some of the films he’s been in. We both thought Apollo 13 was a good movie. My sister commented that she was sad for that one astronaut in the movie who got sick because he held his pee. Me, not remembering that part, asked why he had to hold his pee and she couldn’t remember. So I googled it and it turns out that Houston had told the astronauts they couldn’t dump their pee because they were concerned it could move the craft onto a different trajectory.

Can you imagine, a small condom filled with pee tossed into space shifting the trajectory of a spacecraft?

If that’s true, then think how small things, and I suppose a condom is one example, can change the trajectory of a life?

The possibilities are endless. What if one day instead of making a snarky remark, you just didn’t? Or instead of saying something judgmental, you decide to catch yourself and reframe the thought before saying anything.

Small movements can change your trajectory.

If each day, we found one thing that we could do differently imagine the possibilities.

More than anything, I want to be a part of helping humanity move into Oneness. That place where there is no separation, no us and them, no division. In order for humanity to live from that place, we each need to do our part. But it can be daunting if we think we need to do it all today.

A woman recently shared with me that when she first started walking, she told herself she only had to go outside and walk for five minutes. Then once she got outside, she realized she had done the hard part and would walk another five or ten minutes until eventually she was walking for thirty minutes. But she had to take that first step. That changed her trajectory.

Let’s say you want to write a book. If you’re not inclined to sit and write, then writing a book is probably not going to happen. But if you start writing a few paragraphs, that may lead to a page or two which then may be enough to demonstrate to you ‘oh, yeah, this is fun, I think I might like to take a writing class,’ and off you go. You’ve changed your trajectory.

The same is true with our thoughts, words, and actions. Being consciously aware of them takes practice, but just think of the places you can go when you change your trajectory.

It starts with a thought and moves into an action.

What’s one thing you can do today that will change your trajectory?

As humans, we struggle.

Doesn’t it seem odd to you that struggle is something we all have in common?

I guess the question I have is: Is struggle our true nature?

I don’t think it is.

Love and being in joy are our true divine natures and we are first and foremost divine beings. In a human body, we experience life on earth to grow and evolve our souls. I believe we give ourselves experiences so we can so we can make choices of how we choose to be in any given moment.

If someone were to say something unfortunate to you, how do you choose to react? Do you rip them a new one or do you understand that in that moment they went unconscious and didn’t know better or couldn’t do better. How we react is a choice.

Choosing to react by yelling back is one way we suffer. We assume the person meant to harm us rather than taking a breath and seeing their pain. We match their pain with our pain.

Suffering.

What would happen if we met their pain with love? With understanding? With empathy? Not what we normally think of as empathy where we somehow think we need to take on another’s pain, but rather to reach out energetically and say “I feel your pain, here let me share this love from my heart.”

Suffering is a human construct. It comes in part from the ego. As humans, we need the ego – it isn’t all bad.  However, it can be very persistent and when it wants what it doesn’t have, it can make itself a victim. It can feel sorry for itself when it doesn’t get its way and can use fear as a way to control. As a divine human being, you have been created in love. That’s what you are. The ego has a hard time with that. The ego has illusions of grandeur that says being in control is important, being right is important, and more than anything power is the key to everything.

There’s a difference though between the ego’s power and divine power. Divine power knows that ego is a big talker and needs the bravado to have a sense of self. Divine power knows the self is connected to the larger Self, to all things. From this place, the feeling of power is humble. It simply knows itself to be the truth. It doesn’t need anything.

There have been times when I’ve mentioned in a newsletter or in a client session that taking back our power is something we need to do. This is often met with the retort of “Isn’t power something we’re trying to move away from?”
Yes, if you’re thinking of ego power, but not at all if you’re thinking of divine power and living from the love of your heart.

Living an empowered life means being in touch with the heart, that place inside that knows what is true. It guides us from the place of compassion, love, empathy, and gratitude for self and others. When we bring these into our everyday lives, we can start to let go of the struggle and become empowered divine humans living on earth with joy.

I love looking through old pictures. Those times when my family appeared happy with toothy smiles. Well, except for the one when my sister was minus her two front teeth.

There’s a snapshot of her in that stack of pictures from the 60’s when we were on our annual two-week camping vacation on Cape Cod. She was around six years old and wearing her dark red and navy-blue plaid seersucker bathing suit. It was a one piece with white piping on the pockets and yoke. I had one just like it. We would sit at the edge of the shore line at Nauset Beach waiting for waves to come up onto us and deposit sand in our pockets. We would laugh so hard. In the picture of us at the campground, my sister’s wearing her bathing suit with her beloved cowboy boots.

If it weren’t for that stack of snapshots, I don’t think I’d remember too much of my childhood, not the fun parts anyway. As humans, remembering the negative times always seem to stand out more. You’d think we’d hold onto the positives in life, but rather it seems to be the opposite.

I suppose it’s because the negative stories hold more energy and we repeat them in our minds until they dig themselves in and find a comfy home. From there, they can sit at the controls and inform how we think and act.

I truly wish the fun times could hold as much energy. But in a way, it’s the tough times that teach us our strengths and help us grow.

It’s an interesting concept. When we can look at our past, see how it impacts our present and release the energy behind the fear or pain, then we assist others in doing the same. Not that it’s a conscious assisting, but rather our healing creates a shift in the morphic field of humanity - the field that connects us all. Others who share a similar pain are given a healing from the field. That’s why it’s not selfish to focus on ourselves. When we heal ourselves, that healing affects others. It’s a beautiful system.

If we all had only happy memories, it could only mean one thing - that we have resolved all the pain in the world and we are in fact living heaven on earth.

We’ll get there, I know we will. But in the meantime, we have work to do. It’s really incumbent upon us to face our pains. We don’t have them to hold onto, but rather to learn how to let them go. To realize that we have them to assist in the growth and evolution of humanity.

At the same time, we need the memories of happy times because they show what life can be. They remind us of the times when we were in alignment with our soul and that it’s possible to live from that place.

I have a snapshot of my sister with no front teeth, a bathing suit with sand filling her pockets, and wearing her cowboy boots to remind me of how fun life can be and I am eternally grateful for the chuckle.

There’s a story of a woman who always cuts off the ends of her roast beef before roasting it. One day someone asked her why she removed the ends and she replied that her mother had always done it that way, it was how to cook a roast. Curious, when the woman asked her mother why she cut off the ends of the roast, the mother replied that it was the only way it would fit in her pan.

Do you cut the ends off your roast?

Most of us do. We learn things at an early age by observing our parents or caregivers. We also learn from social media, advertising, or from observing our peers. Those observations go into our subconscious and drive our thoughts and beliefs until we question them. So often though, we don’t question them because why would we? Only until they seem to be causing a problem, we are questioned by another or they present themselves as some sort of a discrepancy to something else we’ve learned more recently, do they ever rise to the level of being examined.

That’s why being an observer of your thoughts and beliefs is so important. When I observe myself, I can find myself amused or becoming rather annoyed. If you haven’t tried observing yourself, give a go.

A fun way to start may be to observe yourself brushing your teeth. Are you a ‘before you eat brusher’ or ‘after you eat’? Observe your pattern of putting toothpaste on the brush, the sequence you brush in, your thoughts as you brush. Then observe again the next day. Is it the same? Are your thoughts the same? Who taught you that pattern? Were you told? Did you observe someone else? Do you believe your way is the only or right way? Teeth brushing is a completely subconscious endeavor, we generally don’t think about it, and yet we do it every day.

Observe your thoughts as you choose your clothes in the morning. That’s a fun one to be an observer of. Are your thoughts healthy or are they demeaning to you as a beautiful human being? Are there thoughts that you might want to consider changing to be more uplifting? Where did these thoughts come from? Are you aware you likely have these thoughts every single day?

I like to think that all our thoughts and actions are available for examination. Kind of like a regular physical checkup. We visit the doctor regularly to make sure everything’s doing what it’s supposed to, we pay attention to aches and pains, so why not do a regular checkup of our thoughts and beliefs?

Until we are aware of our thoughts, we go on mindlessly thinking them. Our mind, not knowing the difference between what is helpful and what is an unconscious thought or belief, assumes they are all important and helpful.

Unconscious, unobserved thoughts can be the source of struggle and because we think the same thoughts over and over, they really dig in, establishing our patterns of thoughts and beliefs that affect us daily.

Becoming an observer of your thoughts and beliefs, you can change them, create new neural pathways and become a conscious way-shower of your reality.

I used to worry what other people thought of me. Well, in all honesty, I still do, but not as much as a few years ago. It’s a process.

Spending time wondering what other people think can use up a lot of energy and precious time. And in the end, can we even really know what someone else is thinking?

Have you ever heard the saying “It’s none of your business what other people think of you”? It sounds a bit harsh, but think about it for a minute and you’ll see that it makes perfect sense.

We can’t control what other people think of us just as other people can’t control what we think of them. We can’t get into the mind of another to find out why they think the way they do. It’s challenging enough to figure out why we think how we do. And also, we’re filtering what we think they’re thinking through our own filters. So what we’re really getting is what we think of ourselves, but putting the blame on another person.

The only one that cares what other people are thinking is the ego. It has its pride, you know.

The truth of who we are knows. It knows we are love incarnate. It knows being human can have its moments and it knows we’re doing the best we can with what we’ve been given. By that I mean, we each have our life experiences that shape our beliefs and consequently how we live our lives.

It is your business to tend to yourself. How do you feel about yourself? How do you feel in your life? These are the questions that carry weight, that are worth exploring.

How you feel about yourself emanates into the world around you. In the approximate words of Byron Katie, are you at war with yourself? Do you nag yourself to death? Do you constantly criticize or find things wrong with yourself? If so, this isn’t exactly living – it’s more like existing in hell and you do deserve better.

Since how you think of yourself matters, becoming consciously aware of your thoughts is a place to start and a good one at that.

Observe your day-to-day thoughts without judging them. Write them down. When you have a collection, look them over and see if you can identify a theme? Are your thoughts loving and compassionate, or are they cynical and criticizing?

Once you have an awareness around your thoughts you can decide which ones you want to expand upon and which ones can either be reframed or let go of.

When you become aware of your own thoughts, wondering what other people think of you becomes less important. Living from conscious awareness is grounded in the heart where existence is less about the ego and more about the truth of our inner wisdom.

As you go through the process of tending to yourself, when you do have occasion to wonder what other people think of you, from the filter of your own mind, you may find their thoughts very uplifting.