On our last night of vacation on Maui, Josephine and I enjoyed dinner via room service. The lit sky caught my eye through the window as we finished, and I received an impulse to leave the room immediately and walk outside. It was a compelling impulse: it was clear and had movement to it, as if a part of me had already made the decision to go outside and my body and brain were playing catch-up.
I quickly put on my shoes and said a rushed goodbye to my daughter. The momentum was carrying...
Space to allow the unfolding.
Space to feel feelings.
Space to come to a decision on one’s own accord, in a space of neutrality.
Nurturing, open, inviting.
Limitless potential. The offering of space.
Sometimes, I squash the space. Fill it with thoughts. Then, the thoughts influence, call forth, or magnetize, a response from the person with whom I am conversing, or from the situation I am experiencing.
For example, when my daughter was applying to high...
I loved watching Game of Thrones. When the series ended, I felt sad. What affected me wasn’t as much that the show had ended as it was thoughts about a particular character’s fate. I got teary-eyed thinking about it!
Even when I reminded myself that the story and characters were not real, the emotion was still present. That’s what I found so interesting: my inner experience was affected by what I chose to focus on, whether the object of attention was “real”...
I asked my son to “tell me about class today,” and he immediately discerned that his teacher must have called me.
“What did she say?”
“Just tell me about class,” I responded.
“What did she say?” he repeated.
“I just want you to tell me about class.”
“Tell me what she said, first.”
“I’m asking YOU to tell me about class,” I reasserted.
And on we went, in this circular pattern, each of us...
I keep talking, despite my daughter’s plea.
“Would you stop?!” she begs.
I persist, rationalizing to myself, I’m the parent, she will benefit by listening to me.
“You’re making me feel sad. You’re making me feel like an idiot!”
Ouch. But I’m on a run, “Well, that’s your doing,” implicitly reminding her that no one can “make” us feel anything.
While the admonishment leaves my lips,...
Recently, I noticed that I no longer have a fantasy associated with winning the lottery. Often, in the past, when I saw a billboard displaying the jackpot, an automatic assessment would run: is this the one? is it time to buy a ticket? And, once every year or so, I would buy a ticket, complete with accompanying fantasy about how this money would change our (my family’s) lives.
I no longer have that fantasy. Seemingly out of nowhere, the fantasy dissolved. I saw a sign advertising the...
A few weeks ago, The Nest was flooded from above. Despite the obvious ceiling and floor damage, and a few other ruined items, I found it somewhat amusing: “The Nest has been baptized!,” I laughed.
As events unfolded, it became less of a charming affair, and more of a pain in the a*s. The extent of repairs required was far greater than I initially anticipated. That’s ok, still nothing to get worked up about. I phoned one contractor after another and everything was...
Mark wanted to stop at Peet’s on the way to The Nest. I didn’t think we had time to stop for coffee—even if we were getting it to-go. We were scheduled to meet a contractor at The Nest at 8:30 sharp. The contractor had actually used the word sharp!
Notwithstanding my desire to arrive on time, I could sense on an energetic level that Mark’s pull to the coffee shop was dominant, somehow more in alignment with Flow, than my desire to go straight to The Nest. I...
While I was skiing this week, I experienced a hint of thought pattern transformation, from judgment to enjoyment.
As I tentatively made my way down a hill, hearing the oh-so-familiar thought pattern running through my mind, “I’m not a good skier. I wonder what my family and others are thinking about me as they watch me. I hope they’re not watching. I’ll never be a good skier. It’s not my thing...”, a new thought popped in: maybe I am holding myself back...
I missed a period in a newsletter I sent out today. Ouch. I did not like the way that unfinished sentence looked, and how it ran into the next one.
The cool thing is that, in the past, I would have also not liked the way it looked to others, I would have viewed it as a reflection of me and who I am, and today, it was the aesthetics that got my attention.
In the past, I would have viewed the missed period as a ghastly mistake, and a part of me would have linked it to my worthiness......
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