Posts Tagged ‘Love’

 I write about “Story Telling” quite a bit I know. The thing is, every single being has a story to tell and I find these tales to be absolutely fascinating. These days, the stories animals have to tell are most compelling to me. I volunteer at my local animal shelter here in Sonoma. When you walk through the glass doors of the entry way and look to your left there is a room full of bunnies available for adoption. The bunnies come and go but my favorite bunny story is the story of Harvey and Rose. Harvey Rabbit came into the shelter and soon became the George Clooney of the bunny habitat. All of the girl bunnies were in love with him and Harvey enjoyed the adulation. He wriggled his adorable little nose at all the single ladies! Until one day when the lovely Rose Rabbit hopped on by. It was love at first sight. Harvey and Rose have been an item ever since. Soulmates, right?

 Then there is Phoenix the Cat. Poor little thing was hit by a car. She was a mess. Internal bleeding, broken pelvis, heart murmur, she could not move at all. The Vet’s at the clinic treated her of course but with little hope of their efforts producing a positive outcome. Phoenix had something else in mind. One fine day Miss Kitty just stood up and started walking. Phoenix, ashes, rising up from, get it?  Every single animal at the shelter has an interesting story to tell. Some of the stories we have heard before and some of them are entirely new. Love stories. Survival stories. Fallen hero stories. D-I-V-O-R-C-E stories. The only difference between human stories and animal stories is that an animal needs a human to change the outcome for them. Animals bear their troubled stories with endless grace. Even the most abused animal will still find it in their heart to be gentle and loving.

We can learn so much from them about forgiveness and humility. A little love, care, food, water, and almost any animal can be rehabilitated. What’s up with we us? Why do we humans insist upon making such a big deal out of our silly, sad stories? And guilt? That false emotion can rank a free lunch. We really believe we are making moral progress when we feel pangs of guilt. (I did that “bad thing” but I feel awful about it so I must not be a “bad person” after all.) Forget guilt! No self-respecting Pit Bull has ever felt a moment of guilt in its life. An animals ability to stay in the now, accept a healing, embrace the moment, move-on is remarkable. Inspiring beyond inspiration.

Yes, every being has a story to tell. But the lack of angst and drama in an Animal Tale is something I myself aspire to. On any given day of our lives we may find ourselves lost, broken, alone. Next day? We can find redemption. We only need to let go of the tired tale we are telling ourselves (and anyone who will listen) to begin living the happy ending.

 Adopt a spayed/neutered pet from a reputable animal rescue group if you are able. Then live to tell the tale of the greatest love of your life. Have a sweet one!




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June has been bustin’ out all over and as the clock strikes midnight it will finally be over. I’m not complaining mind you I’m just sayin’. Many of the clients I Read for have been going through it big-time. I answer the phone and they are already in tears. (Usually the tears don’t come ’til after I tell ’em all the things they don’t want to hear.) There are months when we seem to glide through life and months where we  pray we can keep up with it all. It has been one of those months. The praying kind…not the gliding kind. Decision after decision has been made and now we pray for the best outcome. Nothing really dramatic – just change. Just life. Just it’s-about-frickin’-time you looked at this whatever, gave it a name, and stopped dancing around the issue. Big girl panties on and handle it! So, we handle it. A few days or a few weeks will go by and the seeds of our decision will bear fruit. You have to trust what you did was the right thing to do. This will happen over and over again throughout our lives. It’s a process of pain, relief from pain, then fresh new energy. The process will have us feeling better than we had been in a good while. Why were we acting as if we were having a root canal without anesthesia? Perspective is everything. Change is not easy when you aren’t certain if the exchange will be fair. Something will replace the something we know? Will it be enough? Will there be a period of emptiness? Unbearable emptiness. Oh, no! Not emptiness.

We need to learn to experience emptiness and enjoy the lightness of being it has to offer. Remain faithful knowing full well emptiness never lasts for long. I mean look at that hall closet you just cleared out in December, right? How about the trunk of your car? Empty just isn’t a forever kind of thing. We humans need to fill up the spaces and we do. It would behoove us to become less accepting of filling them up with junk in the first place. It doesn’t matter if it is our closets, or our stomachs, or our hearts. Our high-tolerance for riff-raff will get into trouble every time. How do you know you are making the correct decisions for your life? You don’t know! But here is how we may know a little better. Pay attention to how you feel after you make a decision. Do you feel relieved? Honor the outcome of the decision. Get in the habit of putting your feelings of relief and a positive outcome together. Ask for signs along the way.

Yesterday, I was at the beach. Children were everywhere, laughing, and flying salt-water taffy colored kites. The restless ocean was a deep lavender-blue. I had never seen the ocean this color before. It was remarkable. I closed my eyes and said the prayer I had come to the ocean to pray. When I finished my prayer I opened my eyes only to notice a tiny butterfly the same color of the ocean lighting on a flower. The flower was the exact same color as butterfly… lavender-blue. It may not seem like much but I took it as a sign. A sign I had come to a correct decision and my prayer would be answered. I left the seaside feeling satisfied. Today, I went to the paint store to pick up color chips. I’m leaning towards the blues and feeling sunny yellow. Have a sweet one!

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I have a new boyfriend. I fall in love with someone on a weekly basis at the very least. Can’t help myself. Most usually it is someone who is beyond excellent at what they do. Someone who knows their stuff and does it with panache. Someone I have never met. I guess we can call these little flights of admiration a crush? I guess. I have women on my crush list also. Been carrying a torch for Coco Chanel since I was 21! Why not? She was perfection and she liberated women from those godawful restraints they used to call clothes! My latest crush is on a fella I’ve been watching on HGTV. (Don’t tell Smokey Robinson or Nouriel Roubini, OK?)  Mike Holmes (Holmes on Homes) has not replaced my great love for The Smoke or Dr. Doom but he is currently a part of my personal holy trinity. Why? Because we all need a hero and Mr. Holmes is a hero if ever there was one. Mike is a Canadian building contractor. Every week on HGTV, Mike walks into some fresh hell another builder has left behind for some unwitting home owner. The home owner is usually facing the worst possible contractor rip-off story ever. Electrical fiascos, plumbing-to-nowhere, the house at risk of caving in on itself because the foundation has been compromised by a sociopath posing as a building contractor. Imagine your worst renovation nightmare and Holmes On Homes deals with it. Once Mike enters the scene it is just a matter of time before he rights the wrongs and all is well on the home front.

 Mike’s crew includes his three children. The crew works day and night until Mike is happy with the result. And Mike ain’t happy until it’s perfect. He has even been known to use his own money to finish a project properly for the people who have been taken in. We are talking hundreds of thousands of dollars here. There is just sumthin’ about Mike? A gal has no immunity from that kind of charm. He saves the day every time. He does it with grace, kindness, and human decency. Some bad guy has done something to someone so unfair and Mike, the good guy in overalls, corrects the injustice. He is an absolute inspiration. As stated before we need our heroes. It doesn’t matter if the hero is just an honest working stiff. Or a woman willing to stand up for the freedom of another woman in a country she will never set foot in. It doesn’t matter if the hero breaks the rules or follows them. Anyone doing the right thing when it is far easier, more profitable, and totally acceptable to do otherwise is a hero. At least in my eyes. Ya gotta love a person like that. I manage to find one on any given day and fall in love with them…just a little. It’s Memorial Day here in The States. A day we set aside every year to honor our fallen military heros. Bless them all. And thank heaven not all our heroes are dead heroes. Have a sweet one!

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Nothing like passing through a ring of fire, eh? We have all been there and done that. We will all most likely do it over and over again before we go to our great reward. There is tremendous power in the storm but to the faithful there is ever more power in the sweet afterglow of the rainbow. When you bring your true heart to all you witness and endure in life you cannot help but be changed for the better by your experience. Miracles are entirely necessary and willing to happen. Our faith is sure to be tested before the miracles reveal themselves. So what’s a poor ol’ faithful wretch to do? No matter what you have to go through to get to the other side of your worst experience, be loving. Loving to others. Loving to yourself. Consider always who you really are and who you really want to be. Consider who you want to be remembered as being. Spiritual lessons are often difficult. Still, every time you are knocked to your knees and rise again you grow another heart. A heart wiser and more capable of living a purposeful life. A heart Spirit can use effectively now because it once was broken and survived to thrive. Hallmark moment…maybe? But there you are my little butterfly.

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 The unlived life. Dreams all your own lost along the way. Or maybe the dream life of a parent you tried to fulfill in vain. Where do these lives go? I suppose they go where all unlived lives go. They are idling somewhere in time between childhood and the day you decided you were a grown-up. As a grown-up it was time to put away such foolishness. It doesn’t matter if you were 16 or 60 when you made the decision. At some point you thought it prudent to lose the dream. Into the ether it disappeared along with your Grammy acceptance speech and your first dream house by the sea. Gone, gone, gone but not ever truly forgotten. On odd occasion your old dream come to mind. You feel wistful. A gamut of feelings catch in your throat. Your heart yearns for the time when dreaming of that life was all you ever really wanted. Wouldn’t it be great if you could go back there? Take all the knowledge and experience you have today with you. Push a reset button and live your unlived life. Think about it? 

 Make no mistake now, the fact you aren’t living the life doesn’t mean aren’t grieving the loss. The loss of a dream is much more painful than the loss of reality. Why do you think we take it so hard when a great love is finally over? It’s not that we forget the small and large acts of lovelessness bringing the relationship to its end. The unrealized dreams attached to the “we” involved makes it hard to let it go gracefully. The unlived life attached to the relationship calls to us like a haunting refrain of a Chopin etude in a minor key. What to do? To tell you the truth I’m not entirely certain. I am certain about living life just right though. Whatever is just right for you is the life you should be living. If it takes a hundred phone calls and heaven knows what to realize all or part of  your unlived life? I say go for it! Just do it. Don’t allow anyone or anything to keep you from your unlived life one more day. If you feel your unlived life where your happiness lies why would you just let it go? You are older. Hopefully wiser. You are unlikely to do anything really stupid because you have more to lose now if you do. If your dream was really meant for you? You can manifest it. It’s never too late. The Heart of the Divine has been holding on to it as a precious keepsake for you. Just waiting for the day when you had enough courage to ask for it back. Ask. It belongs to you. Take full ownership. You two take good care of each other. Have a sweet one!

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Jumped in my trusty Honda and drove out Hwy 12. Life affirming sunny-yellow Acacia trees waving to and fro in the chilling breeze. Our state flower (California Poppy) just beginning to pop out their happy orange faces here and there along the way. It was a rather nippy day but with Andrea Bocelli’s ever-embracing tenor to keep me warm I was feelin’ no pain. Bliss quotient? Off the charts. I’ve been living in Sonoma for four and a half years now. I surely love these weekly jaunts I indulge in. It’s all about the magic in the wine and music, eh? I’m not sure how much longer I will be staying in NoCali. My intention is to be thankful for every moment I am blessed enough to call it home. Even a Psychic cannot know where life will lead her all the time. I actually enjoy the mystery therefore I’m not asking any questions. My nature doesn’t allow me to become attached and I have become adept at surrendering to what is. When and if it is ever time for me to go I’ll know. I have spent many hours this last week looking into what it would take to start a non-profit organization or L3C for an idea I’ve been toying with. In between this current passion I tended to my usual passions. Read for a couple of new clients and a few old ones I hadn’t spoken with in a while. As long as I’ve been doing this work it still rocks my world. I love that moment when the fog lifts and the person I am Reading for is finally poised for positive action. I studied Italian. Did a bit of writing. Made pasta sauce on Sunday with Opera playing in the background. This culinary ritual is as close to going to church as there will ever be for me. I did my volunteer stint at the pet shelter. Made a couple of new canine buddies. I’ve been thinking a lot about passion lately. What it means to have it. The debilitating effects of living without it. Here’s what I know I  know more clearly than I have ever known it before. Not surprising as it is the day after The Oscars. Look… some folks win shiny gold statues and some folks don’t. The people going home without the statue are still winners. Living a life on purpose is the win! Doing what you love is a win! Waking up everyday is a win! Being rewarded with “the gold” is a karmic toss of a coin. Life is not about receiving statues of recognition. We need to focus on our bliss and honor our passions with passion. Allow ourselves to follow the sweet scent of love in all its many disguises and drink it in. Know how to recognize joy when we are feeling it and expand on it. Stir the sauce and lick the tasting spoon with relish. Turn up the volume when we hear the music to our favorite songs. And the Oscar goes to…

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There is one blossom blooming on the pear tree by the balcony of my loft. Cheery, plum, almond, apple, and a sunny yellow NoCali offering is blooming crazy showing out all over West County. But at Woodstone Corners just one little pear blossom has been brave enough to show its lovely face. Maybe she’s shy? That’s OK. Miss Pear Tree will flower like a trooper when she is darn good and ready. I had errands to run and the day was just perfection. The ocean at Portuguese Beach was a dapper cerulean blue. The sky, a sumptuous bed of marshmallow clouds. Pairs of everything lit up the emerald green countryside. A pair of ducks splashing on the side of the road in a puddle the size of a wading pool. A couple of cows sunning themselves, obviously enjoying each others company away from the rest of the herd. Twin chickens pecked about in the short grass for a seasonal organic luncheon. It was one of those days that mark a new beginning. A truer way of being. Almost haunting but in a good way. Sweet and wild. A day like the day I first heard Coltrane. Something captured all of my senses and sensibilities on that magical Coltrane hearin’ day, and I have never been quite the same since. I was walking on the bluffs above the river where the steel mills ran 24/7 in those days. A certain iron fueled, acrid, blanket of scent would rise up from the murky water around dusk everyday. It was a Sunday. I could hear the grown ups laughing and carrying on as their weekly traveling poker game ensued. I don’t think there was a real gambler among them. Life was hard. The card game was the Great Penny-Ante Escape. You could hear the gratitude in the laughter and name calling. It was Summertime, every window on Cliff Street was open. Everyone’s business in the street. The fella living in the “brownstone brick” across the way had his Admiral Hi-Fi turned up loud.  Coltrane’s “Lazy Bird” kissed the air and lingered there like the ever-present smoke of my Aunt’s Kool Menthols. The sound of that music made me feel more alive than I had ever been. It shook me and grounded me to the earth. The feeling was overwhelming and then came the tears.  After the tears came a blissful smile I could not wipe off of my face. I remember thinking, this must be how angels feel when they go back to heaven. I wore that music home. This one pear blossom day felt so familiar. Life affirming and real.  A Love Supreme. Like hearin’ Coltrane for the first time while angels laugh out loud in heaven.

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