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Deep breath.
I think everything good starts and ends and exists within a breath.
“As long as you’re breathing, there is more right with you than wrong.”
That’s a quote from the guided meditation c.d. that accompanies The Mindful Way Through Depression: Freeing Yourself from Chronic Unhappiness, a book co-authored by John Kabat Zinn and others.
I found both the book and c.d. hugely helpful last June when I was fresh off of antidepressants and struggling a bit with franticness and fear. Listening to the c.d. is good when all you want to do is lie in the fetal position. You can still breath there, and that’s all we ever absolutely need to do.
Of the two of us, my brother bears the bigger burden of depression. I can pinpoint a few years of my life when I experienced prolonged phases of despair, but it hasn’t been my norm. Ty has had to work a lot harder for happy.
I didn’t expect to write about this today . . . you never know what might come up while you’re breathing . . .
We spoke today and he told me this weekend was one of the hardest he has ever experienced. He’s doing better though, taking good care of himself in every way he knows how.
As for the rest of us, the many, many people who love and have been touched by Tyler. . . I think the best we can do is send an outpouring of love his way and stay attentive to timing. It’s a big temptation to jump right in and try to be Ms. Fixit right away. Especially as an ET2, I often feel like I have the perfect suggestion for anyone hurting. Sometimes I’m on the right track and what I have to say might be of great benefit; but unless the moment is right, I promise you that perfect suggestion will fall on deaf ears.
As Ty told me about all the steps he’s been taking to stay strong–no caffeine, no alcohol, exercise consistently, meditate daily, and others–I did feel compelled to remind him go easy on himself when he skips a morning meditation or misses a dose of fish oil. I wrote a little bit about my experience of overdoing in an early post, Human Doings, inspired by talking with my brother the same day.
The post begins with a poem; the first line of which is, “You don’t have to be good.”
I don’t want you to be good, Ty. I just want you to be.
* * *
One of my favorite feel-better-even-while-you-cry songs came on as I typed this post, right after Billy Joel’s “Sadness and Euphoria” and in time with me typing the words, “you never know what might come up while you’re breathing.” It’s “Heart of Life” by John Mayer and it goes like this (<—–click there to listen, Mom!):
I hate to see you cry,
lying there in that position.
There are things you need to hear,
so turn off your tears and listen:
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around.
No, it won’t all go away, it should.
But I know the heart of life is good.
I dedicate this post to you, brother. And even though John Mayer says, “turn off your tears,” I say, just keep being you, however you may be. We’ll love you no matter what that looks like. Love and hugs, your Seester.
It has come to my attention that having a focused intention for my blog would behoove us all greatly. Today I’d like to write about just that.
I’ll start at the beginning (even if to say so is redundant). My initial inspiration for starting a blog was both special and rather unoriginal. I decided to treat myself to the luxury of a matinée one late summer afternoon. So I took a quiet walk down to Mt Shasta Cinemas and bought myself a ticket for Julie and Julia.
For the most part, I enjoyed the movie; but there was also this whiney little voice inside of me (probably my ET4 heart point, otherwise known as a “soul child”) that was actually quite jealous of Julie and Julia alike. “Why should Julie get to do what she loves and then have a book published and a bit fat feature film made starring Meryl Streep?” it demanded. “When will I be loved?”
Lurking there, just behind the jealousy and whinging, was also sadness and a feeling of disconnect from my own path. It had been more than a year since graduating from Naropa, yet still I was “transitioning and integrating” (my words, spoken so many times) and not feeling like I had made any real progress. Somehow, watching Julie and Julia up on that screen touched this tender area of my being and as the credits rolled at the end of the film, I stayed in my seat and wept. (I’m laughing now. I knew there was a reason I named this blog Carry Kleenex, Carry On).
As I walked home, the urge to create a blog of my own crept up inside of me and gradually grew. What’s amazing is that it didn’t dwindle. I wrote my first blog within a week of seeing the movie and the love affair hasn’t fizzled yet. Yes, it’s only been a month, but a month is a long time to do something consistently, first of all, and secondly, I’ve heard that it takes 30 days to establish any habit, good or bad. Given that, consider Cocoa (:acronym CKCO shortened and cute-end) established!
When I actually sat down to write my first post, it all seemed to flow naturally. I came up with the topic and title relatively easily, thanks to a little help from my mom. I even think my initial intention was fairly clear from the start, with the original subtitle: An attempt to redirect my musings to an audience that’s interested. (I’ve since altered that heading slightly, changing “attempt” to “intent” because of the importance I believe the concept of intention to bear; I’ll elaborate on both in a minute).
I am a person who analyzes life and my own behavior on a regular basis. While I find such a quality endearing, it’s easy for me to make the leap and realize that such is not likely the case for every person I encounter. But, I thought, there must be somebody out there who would enjoy and perhaps even benefit from hearing my thoughts on life. So I decided to share them, realizing I might also get some of that particular energy out of my system and into an environment where it would at least have the potential to thrive.
My hope was not so much to entertain or enlighten as to simply offer my thoughts and myself and allow them the chance to be received. I also realized, on some level, that by writing things down I would have an opportunity to get to know Tessa better. I don’t know if it sounds weird that I needed to get to know me, but I honestly did and I do . . .
The point is that, yes, I am writing this blog for people to read it; but my primary intention remains to stay focused on Spirit, both mine and the great one and to see what pours forth. This becomes increasingly challenging as hits to the site and comments on it increase–and not just comments, but comments, filled with integrity and heart. Seeing such things makes it really tempting to try and lure more loveliness into the light, but I realize that the reason this whole process is actually working at all is because I’m not doing it for anyone else. I think that’s an important thing to remember for anyone following a passion, that if you’re not doing it to fulfill you, you probably won’t be fulfilled.
In any case, the reason I changed the word “attempt” to “intent” was to further focus the direction of this offering of mine. I believe in the power of the spoken (or in this case, written) word and I felt that by using the word “attempt,” I was weakening my . . . I hesitate to say “resolve” because to me that feels rigid and closed. So, I was weakening the strength of my . . . well, intention to make a genuine and positive change in my life and to pursue a passion.
Writing daily and opening myself wider than I have been to a even broader range of observation has truly enhanced my life and increased my happiness. The birth of this blog was a genuinely “beautiful dawn.”
I encourage you to listen to the sweet and profound song entitled as such and to pay attention to the lyrics as you do so. I’ve been playing it on my guitar and singing along, and it brings me joy that I want to share. I hope you’ll be inspired.
Learning how to cry is the hardest part
There’s only one way to mend a broken heart.
~Beautiful Dawn, The Wailin Jenny’s
Well. It is 10:50 p.m., yesterday was another late night and I have yet to blog, even though I had one glorious hour after another of weekend freedom to do it in. Instead, I danced, napped, made lots of music and even bickered with Joseph Villaseñor a bit. I’d say it was a Sunday well spent!
Last night, Joe and I drove to Ashland for an initial suss-out of the salsa scene. We departed from Shasta a bit early to grab a bite and ease our way into town. An hour later, I passed up not one but all three of the Ashland exists and didn’t notice until we reached Medford, a city I can say little about other than that it has a shopping mall, a Costco and it’s close to Ashland . . .
I grumbled to myself for a moment as we pulled off the freeway, then shrugged it off to synchronicity. “There, we’ll take the old highway back to Ashland and maybe we’ll see something good.”
We drove along discussing musical tastes and listening styles, and Joe’s sexy surfer friend Mario. A raccoon hobbled across the highway and I squealed with delight. In the four weeks that Joe and I have been driving to and from dancing I’ve seen a raccoon, a fox, a bear and two shooting stars. At first I was sure these events were synchronistic, too. Now I wonder if it might have anything to do with the fact that I’m rarely out after dark otherwise.
Soon we were passing a dusty old building bearing the sign, “Roscos BBQ: Soul Food!” I read it out loud and Joe responded, “Wanna go there for an appetizer and a beer?”
We flipped a roundabout U-turn and parked behind the deteriorating building. Getting out of the car, I noticed the flashing lights and bumping base coming from inside. “Woah, Roscos is hoppin’! This night is getting better all the time.”
After finding ourselves sandwiched between crowded tables and a side door we mistook for the front, Joe and I eventually made our way successfully into the restaurant. Men and women covered the counters, tables and floor. Faces turned toward us for a once over, then went back to continue conversations. A wailing Linda Lovelace and band egged on a bobbing bee-bopping dance crowd. Joe and I both share a love for randomness, spontaneity, and varied experience, so we made the decision relatively quickly to stay and embrace whatever else Roscos BBQ would have to offer.
On my way to the bathroom I nabbed us the one empty booth in the place, setting Joe’s jacket on top of the table. On my way out, I saw no jacket, no Joe and a strange man sitting there instead. Joe materialized out of the crowd moments later, rescuing me from a state of minor confusion, and explained that there was a waiting list. “But we can join these guys if we want to.”
One of the “guys” Joe pointed to had “Hey baby’d” me as I lay Joe’s jacket on the unavailable table, but his face seemed friendly and his intentions benign. Plus, the chance to break bread with four 200 plus pound black men in the middle of Jackson County is not one to be had every day! So, we took our seats.
“Where you all from?” Man #1 asked us. When we returned the question, inquiring if they were from the area, he shook his head in mock disgust and responded “Heck no! Don’t you two watch football?” Then led us into a charade about the four of them being a mix of NFL coaches and stars. Joe and I continued to banter with our new friends until a steaming plate of ribs, baked beans and coleslaw arrived. I’ve always said I could be a vegetarian as long as I could still eat pork ribs and these tender, juicy sauce smothered ones only made me want to strengthen my stance.
We also struck up a rapport with our waitress, Leilani, who gave me her phone number in case I ever wanted to dance hula with her. Joe and I ended up explaining the dynamic of our dance-partner relationship, and as we left Leilani eyed him with her hand by her ear in a hang ten position–otherwise known as a sign for “Call me!”
Upon arriving at Tabu, Joe and I discussed the other bit of information Leilani shared with us: “I know the bouncer there, J.P.! Tell him Leilani says hi and maybe he’ll let you in for free.”
“You have to do it.” Said Joe. “I’m not good at schmoozing.”
I’m not either, but with a, “Hi J.P.! Leilani asked us to tell you she says hello,” and a smile, J.P. skirted the question of a cover and asked us only for I.D.
Inside, things were a smidge anticlimactic, I’m afraid. I had a startling realization hit home: the majority of scenes in the dance movies I love are of the dancers practicing and making mistakes–not dancing effortlessly around in one another’s arms.
So, rather than have an evening like I’d envisioned as Tessa, dancing queen of the club, I was basically Jennifer Gray in the beginning of Dirty Dancing, when she walks into the dusky nightclub and bumps around on the dance floor with Patrick after declaring, “I carried a watermelon!”
But, as is my usual way of settling the dust, I tell myself there will always be other nights. Besides, I do believe they’re all perfect in their own right anyhow.
Today’s blogging challenge is going to be to not focus so much on what somebody else might want to read as on what I want to write. This is actually the challenge of everyday, paired with the fact that as an image type I am A) concerned with keeping up a good rapport with my audience and B) not always sure of what I actually desire, being conditioned as I am to tuning into the needs of others . . .
It was Tessa I tuned into, though, when I decided to go ahead and tell my Arts Council boss I was applying for a job in Santa Barbara. Everyone around me was saying, “In this economy? Are you crazy? You can’t just go around telling your employer that you’re looking for other work. It’s not smart.”
Despite it, my conscience and I were adamant about being honest. If nothing else, lying just isn’t worth the trouble and energy! So, I told Lauri the whole truth: a fantastic opportunity had come up, I was driving to SB to pursue it; I might be leaving the Council soon but promise to give plenty of notice if I do. Of course, as you may already know, I didn’t get the job and I did receive my two weeks notice a few days ago.
So, everyone was right, huh. By looking out for the other guy and not for myself, I got the short end of the stick. Lesson learned! Or was it . . .
The very day I was given my notice (I wish I could just type “fired;” it’s so much more succinct) my friend Royce came by to visit and told me they might be looking for bakers at Berryvale.
Getting its name from one of Mt. Shasta City’s prior christenings, Berryvale is a local alternative grocery store with a culture all its own. It smells of herbs and patchuli, and more often than not there are small clumps of people (who also smell like herbs and patchuli, and sometimes herb) gathered in it’s vicinity. Inside, although you’ll almost certainly encounter dreadlocks, you’re equally likely to find logo-t’s and bike shorts. If there is such a thing as an intentional grocery store, Berryvale is it. They even provide metal rings for looping leashes and a stationary bowl of water out front for dogs waiting while their people shop.
Royce has worked at “Berry” for about a year now. He’s a checker, re-stocker and occasional dishwasher. He’s also a schmoozer, and the people there love him. So, when they needed a baker some months ago and he gave me a wholehearted recommendation, it seemed I was a shoe in.
As fate had it, I slowly let the Berryvale ball drop and got lined up with work at the Siskiyou Arts Council. Now here we are, six months later with Berryvale needing bakers and me needing a job. . .
Hearing the news, I recognized this as an opportunity to pick up the ball I had dropped in April and grip it tightly. I promised myself I would be diligent about returning to Berryvale on a regular basis until they hired me.
I made my first trip in on Thursday morning. The head baker Emily wasn’t there that day, but an Art History teacher of mine was (do you like the irony? The Arts Council, for me, History!) and he sent a whole new ball rolling down the aisle of my imagination. But that’s a story for another day.
I returned to Berryvale on Friday, this time catching Emily in the back room. I was prepared to go into great detail about my passion for baking and desire to join the Berryvale team. But, thanks to my loyal friend Royce, she began talking about scheduling and training before I hardly had a chance to say word!
One of the owners joined our conversation halfway through it. “This is Tessa!” Emily said, introducing me. Belinda nodded and handed me an application. “Just fill out the basics,” she suggested, “name, phone number, etc . . . You can include your previous employer if you want, but don’t worry about phone numbers there. I won’t be calling anyone.” And she disappeared into the back.
I floated out of the store, giving Royce a bear hug and a thank you on the way out. . .
If this experience hasn’t convinced me to follow my thread of truth and have faith, I don’t know what will.
As Mom would say, it’s “D.R.O!”
D.R.O.: an acronym meaning Divine Right Order.
I’m back at home where internet comes easy and now I’m struggling to blog. Then again, starting up is usually a challenge for me; and at least today I have my topic all cut out . . .
As you know, I am currently working as the Gallery Manager/Executive Assistant at the Siskiyou Arts Council (“Siskiyou” being the county I live in). I got the job through a boyfriend a couple of months ago when he decided to move to Michigan without me (ohh, the drama). It seemed like a good idea at the time, my working there, and it has been a great experience in many ways . . .
SAC’s gallery is located on a corner of Main Street on the north side of town. It’s right next door to what locals call “the Cowboy Gallery;” and particularly in contrast to its rugged neighbor, our gallery is a gleaming array of Pergo wood floors, hanging lights and a nice selection of works by local artists from around the county. The SAC gallery is also one of very few places in town a girl can wear heels without receiving weird looks (you’re better off in Crocs or Birks around here). That said, one reason I’ve enjoyed working for the Siskiyou Arts Council has been the opportunity to put my newly found fashion skills–thanks to What Not to Wear–to good use. What a perk!
The job has also been fab’ in that it’s pushed me past various edges of my comfort zone. Mainly, I’ve been forced to make phone calls. For some reason, although I am relatively comfortable with people, making phone calls has always made me feel kind of nervous and stupid. Half of the time after I hang up I make a gagging face and mutter the last few words I spoke during the call outloud, sure I’ve just made some kind of fool of myself (maybe a post on confidence should be next in line).
Working for SAC, I’ve also had exposure to the inner-workings of an Non Profit Organization, worked in close proximity to artists and their art and been truly welcomed into the loving arms of this little community as I upkeep one of Mt. Shasta’s finest storefronts.
Have you wondered why I keep talking in past tense?
Some two months ago a great opportunity came up to apply for a friend’s old job in Santa Barbara. As I worked out the logistics of driving down to interview mere days before my big (and only) brother’s wedding, I had to consider how I would handle the situation with my current employer. Should I tell them why I need time off? Do I keep it hush-hush?
Being a 2 on the enneagram and being me, I opted to be 112% forthright and considerate. I not only told my boss where I was going and why, but went so far as to add (after not getting the job), “I only expect you to be as committed to me as I am to you. . .”
My honesty is both a blessing and a curse, so it seems. Today, my boss Lauri politely informed me, “Consider this your two weeks’ notice.”
Oh . . .
I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. In fact, I even blogged about seeing it come. Still, I remained in minor shock for some time after receiving the news. Post conversation, I spent the afternoon on the mindless task of archiving newspaper clippings mentioning SAC. The day was as rainy as they come. Eventually, I slumped to the floor, wrapped myself around my dog Savannah Belle Bones and cried–for approximately seven minutes.
Two minutes after that, an Austrian woman came into the gallery and . . . I sold her a painting! Now, that’s what I’m talking about when I say carry kleenex and carry on!
On that note: I’ll keep you posted. And thanks for listening.
Slee-eepy.
Maybe I ought to start blogging earlier in the day? Maybe before dinner time. Sometimes I feel like I need a pre-dinner activity, ’cause otherwise I get anxious to dine. Yes, I have a slightly over-exaggerated love affair with food. . . I’m o.k. with it.
Lots of topics for blogging crossed my mind over the course of this day. Namely: Processes, Oneness and Resurfacing Romances. I think we both agree that I’ve been philosophical and even practical in my writings a lot lately. Therefore, I choose the frivolous topic tonight: Resurfacing Romances. How delicious! Not to mention, in my current state of eyes half open, I think I might be most coherent on a topic that doesn’t require much intellectual delving. Hm. . .
Oops, totally off topic: I love the freedom of a blog. I actually got the idea that I might have a knack for/enjoy writing one based on the feedback I get on my e-mails, which are typically relatively unfiltered and chock full of parenthetical statements, self-analysis and reflection, and emoticons. People seem to like reading them. Some say it’s like talking me; they feel a sense of closeness. Others are amused. Still others appreciate my honesty, regardless of relevance of it to their respective lives. What nice friends I have!
So, I was inspired to take the approach to a broader audience. And you know, it feels like 100% the right thing to do.
I cringe to bring Dan Brown up for the second blog in a row, but then I suppose it’s good for my ego to express something that feels embarrassing. Especially for an image type as I am on the enneagram. Actually, it’s probably my ET4 heart point that deems the depth of Dan Brown’s writings insufficient. . .
Anyway, Dan Brown. In the final pages of the new book (for those of you who like to “go in fresh,” Dad, I promise I am not going to ruin the end) there is a discussion between two characters about the power of the multiplied synchronized mind (“multiplied, synchronized mind” meaning many minds coming together with a similar or identical thought). Not only are “two minds better than one,” one character explains to the other, “they are exponentially better” (which, by the way is right on track with the tale of the 100th Monkey Effect).
Brown goes on to write the two into a discussion about the way modern technology–specifically the internet–has made connecting minds possible like never before (As an aside, some Christians use this fact as one of many prophetic signs that Christ’s return is fast approaching).
That said, one very real reason I am pleased to be blogging is that in my humble, human, hardly mid-twenty year old glory, I know I have been privy to some exquisite ideas and information; now I’m beginning to participate in spreading and sharing them more actively, in my own clumsy way.
Thanks for bearing with me. I think I’ll try writing before this post-bedtime hour tomorrow. And maybe I’ll actually get to the frivolously romantic topic I tempted you with at the beginning of tonight’s post 
I must confess, my commitment to making a nightly entry in my blog has waned. And I owe it all to Dan Brown’s latest publication, The Lost Symbol. After turning my nose up at The DaVinci Code I never expected I’d enjoy this one, yet I’ve been finding it fabulously entertaining. Just another reminder to stay open, huh?
Speaking of, I spoke with Kristina this evening (the good friend I’m planning to move to Santa Barbara with come January) and she asked whether I might be interested in relocating sooner. What with the approaching holidays, my fa-abulous ballroom dancing class and a wondrous slew of new friends, I told her it didn’t seem terribly appealing at the moment. But, I added, “I’ll stay open.”
As our conversation continued, we got into discussing our most recent potential career picks. Currently, Kristina has her eye on studying Nutrition & Psychology at Bastyr, but that degree program requires a number of math and science prerequisites (the university she and I attended offered literally one math class and two in science) and she’s begun to doubt whether such subjects agree with her.
Following her down the path of playful contemplation, I voiced my concern about studying psychology–namely that I might find myself cramped into a westerly facing psychological box. “I’m interested in spirituality and different dimensions.” I proclaimed. “I want to study consciousness!”
Together we reasoned that I would surely be able to incorporate my broader interests into a narrower field by attending a school like CIIS. Then Kristina suggested that perhaps it was three days of utter immersion in the works of Dan Brown that was making me think this way. . .
When I got home I had an “EnneaThought for the Day” waiting in my inbox. The first line of it was an urging to all enneatypes to be aware of the transformational process; then came the following quote from Understanding the Enneagram:
Being receptive to spirituality can vastly accelerate the process of healing the deficits in our early development. And using the tools of psychology to heal the gaps in our development gives us the capacity to sustain spiritual states of consciousness.
I would say that fairly addresses my concern, no?
Thank God for synchronicity–and receptivity at that. Again I say it, I am so grateful!
Well, well, well. I think this blog may turn out to be even more interesting than I thought it might when we began.
. . . It’s actually all so uncanny and overwhelming that I’ve been trying to write this blog for the past hour and have let myself be happily interrupted repeatedly because I feel like there’s so much importance in what I want to say that I won’t be able to adequately convey it . . .
So, I’d like to go back to the concept of coincidence I discussed in my post Seasons Come & Seasons Go. I am currently in the middle of reading Deepak Chopra’s book The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire, with my bookmark right smack in the middle of the segment called Nurturing Coincidence. In this chapter, Chopra writes about how putting attention on coincidences will attract more coincidences and how “In this way coincidences become clues to the will of the universe, providing a way for us to see its synchronicity and take advantage of life’s boundless opportunities.”
I have been focusing a lot of my attention on coincidences lately, but even though I started doing so long before ever reading any Deepak Chopra, I am still amazed by the multitude synchronicities that have prevailed as of late.
Unfortunately or not so unfortunately, you choose, I’ll have to go back a ways to bring us up to date with the events of the past few days. Please amuse yourself by trying to follow the thread of what are [to me] very clearly connected events:
In 2005, I:
1. Encountered yoga
2. Encountered yoga teacher, Dustin
3. Learned about Hellerwork from Dustin
4. Heard about Naropa University for the first time from my godmother Kathleen and for the second time, from Dustin.
Fast-forward to 2008, when I:
5. Graduated from Naropa University with an Interdisciplinary degree in Writing, Music and Yoga
6. Began the Hellerwork series with a practitioner named Kimberly
7. Became the Baker for Village Books, formerly owned by Kathy L.
8. Started my “career” as a friendly neighborhood house/dog-sitter
9. Toyed seriously with the idea of incorporating massage/bodywork into a future–more sustainable–career, partially because of my Hellerwork sessions.
In the spring of 2009, I:
10. Sold ads for a Visitor’s Brochure to be distributed amongst local businesses
11. Called Carl M., founder of the Enneagram Institute of Ashland and husband to Kathy L., to inquire about interest in an ad.
12. Ran into Kimberly at local cafe and had a spontaneous conversation about my new house-sitting occupation
13. Learned about a couple often in need of a house-sitter from Kimberly; the couple was Kathy and Carl
I will pause the timeline here to explain that Carl never returned my call about the ad. He did, however return my e-mail about house-sitting with a phone call, and asked me bluntly, “Do I know you?” I responded that no, he didn’t, and explained about Kimberly and the circumstances. We agreed to meet up for tea the next day to discuss potential employment and then continued talking for a few moments, during which I discovered:
14. Carl was familiar with Naropa (a school known of by a only fairly selected group of people) and
15. Carl graduated from CIIS, the very school I was most interested in applying to in that moment
He and I met the next day and hit it off as I have with very few people, quickly developing an extensive friendly rapport. . .
In the summer of 2009, I:
16. Met some peeps at a potluck and played a game of, “Let me guess your name;” only tried on one person, guessing one boy’s name to be “Tyrone;” his name is Tyson
17. Had a conversation with Tyson in which he told me about Esalen, a retreat and massage training center in Big Sur, CA
18. Quite spontaneously interviewed for a friend’s old position in Santa Barbara, California (did not get said position)
19. Learned that Carl lived his early years in Santa Barbara, and Kathy her middle ones, and they both still visit often.
During the late summer/fall of 2009
20. Began seeing movies with Kathy
21. Was lent Deepak Chopra’s The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire by Kathy
22. Watched Julie and Julia and cried at the end because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life
23. Started a blog shortly thereafter because, well, why the hell not?
Then, in the last two some-odd days, I:
24. Blogged about synchronicity
25. Had a conversation with a girlfriend living in So Cal about moving in together in Santa Barbara come January
26. Learned about balancing relationships with career, etc
27. Blogged about career
28. Became Facebook friends with Tyson through an actual friend’s new girlfriend’s friend list
29. Facebooked Tyson about Esalen
30. Went online to research Esalen and saw on their website “Trigger Point Massage”
31. Googled massage schools in Santa Barbara and came up with the Santa Barbara Body Therapy Institute – A School for Holistic Massage
32. Perused website and immediately saw, “Trigger Point Massage”
33. Discovered that Carl also attended the Santa Barbara Body Therapy Institute
34. Discovered the first comment on my baby blog–thank you Dr. Susan Bernstein!–in which she recommended to me a school in Santa Barbara (a city never previously mentioned in my blog!) . . .
And when I went to the school’s website, almost the first thing I saw was a link to “Esalen.”
. . .
So, there you have it.
Since I don’t know yet what it all means, I’ll leave us both with some final words from Dr. Chopra to consider:
When a coincidence arises, don’t ignore it. Ask yourself, What is the message here? What is the significance of this? Ask the question, and the answers will emerge. . . Perhaps you will meet a person who is somehow related to the coincidence that occurred. An encounter, a relationship, a chance meeting, a situation, a circumstance will immediately give you a clue to its meaning. . .
Chopra, Deepak. The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire. Three Rivers Press, New York, 2003. 301 pages. Quote from page 140.
Oh, how I love the fall. Crisp air, turning leaves, the encouragement to stay present because winter is coming. I wonder why I don’t feel the same way about emotional autumns?
“Seasons come, and seasons go” is a favorite quote of mine by the father of another past boyfriend named Peter. Tim said it to me one late summer day in New Hampshire when I was bemoaning the fact we wouldn’t have fresh blueberries to pick for breakfast every morning anymore. A wise man!
I’m lying on the couch currently enjoying an autumn eve as we [speak]. It’s the first truly cool night we’ve had this season. The wind is howling and we had a little rain; Dad is rushing about trying to get adequate cover on our tomato plants lest they freeze. He says tomatoes are very cold sensitive, that in a cold snap the fruit turns to mush and the greens go black. It sounds rather dramatic to me. Maybe tomatoes are ennea-type 2′s of the fruit world?
My boss Lauri told me today she feels the winds of change a blowin’. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I like it . . . Change is exciting to me, especially when I’m in a place in life where I’d like to see some of it come about. Less exciting is that since I interviewed for a job in Santa Barbara it’s been obvious that my time with the Arts Council is truly limited and as a result they may be bumping me out a little sooner than I’d planned. Whoops.
Then again, even that is exciting. I’ve been reading about synchronicity and coincidence, both of which inevitably point to the natural order of the universe, to God’s will. I’ve always been a believer in signs and synchronicities, but during this season I’m bumping it all up a notch by attempting to see (as I will with the 20-20 hindsight I am certain to eventually achieve . . .) the perfection of every aspect, of every encounter of my life. On this topic, Deepak Chopra writes the following:
“In retrospect, the narrative of our lives appears perfectly logical. We can easily follow the thread of continuity upon which we gathered our life’s experience. Even now, at whatever point you are in your life look back and notice how naturally your life flowed from one milestone to the next, from one place or job to another, from one set of circumstances to an entirely different set.”
He goes on to say, “Notice how effortless it all could have been if you had only known where your path was leading.” He asks us to examine (of course, it’s the premise of his book) the endless possibilities that would become available to us if we would begin more actively tuning into what he deems the “nonlocal realm,” what I believe others would call God’s voice.
I’m an enthusiastic advocate of such lofty plans and intentions. But you know, I’m also finally beginning to accept my human status and recognize where I actually am in the scheme of things. So, while I would love to have a mind quiet and pristine enough to see the thread of my life clearly from here to forever, I’m o.k. being realistic and recognizing that I’m not there yet. For now, I will be content if I can actually believe in the continuity of the thread, that there isn’t some drastic cliff-hanging break in it between now and eternity.
And anyway, if this doesn’t work out, there’s always next spring for changing my mind.
Chopra, Deepak. The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire. Three Rivers Press, New York, 2003. 301 pages. Quote from page 120.
