Living in the Land of Plenty

Until a few years ago, I thought life allotted only a certain amount of happiness. Like I had an individual good fortune quota and once reached… that’s it! I’m S.O.L., baby. Might as well brace for the inevitable misfortune to strike. After all, what made me so special? I’d already been so blessed during my short time on the planet, I surely didn’t deserve more of the good stuff. Life seemed merely a series of challenges and worries, obstacles and struggles, interspersed with a few victories and periods of precarious peace. It’s no wonder I was intermittently miserable for a good two decades.

The end of 8^th grade, I recall as one of those short-lived periods of satisfaction. I had supportive and fun friends, a boyfriend (also short-lived) who sang in a band, and exceptional grades. My extra-curricular life was active and rich in music, playing both the piano and the saxophone. I was starting the transition between adolescence and young womanhood. I remember telling my mom (and lifelong confidant), “I feel happy and content for the first time in as long as I can remember.” 

Good grief.  Can you imagine hearing such a thing from your beloved only child? Admittedly, junior high is hellish, but still!

I think this remission from constant anxiety and dis-ease lasted for, oh, all of a week. Maybe two. At best.

I experienced the same brief fulfillment near the end of my college freshmen year, which had also culminated in success.  My first-year seminar research paper was chosen for presentation at an Honor’s conference. I’d landed a job at the college radio station the next year. And I had a summer internship at a radio station in my hometown. I was happy and proud of myself. But also scared. I remember telling Mom this time that so many good things had been happening to me lately, I felt sure that something bad was about to strike to even it all out. After all, why was I deserving of so much good fortune? (Not acknowledging, of course, how diligently and faithfully I had worked to bring these good things into my life.)

A recent conversation with my Island Sista got me thinking about this happiness quota thing. She voiced a fear she harbors about her personal power. Namely, that the more power and strength she has, the less that will be available to those around her.  She worries that HER power and energy and good fortune somehow suck those qualities away from her husband and children. This prompted me to go on passionately and at length about the difference between choosing to live under a Paradigm of Scarcity verses a Paradigm of Abundance. (Ahem…Thanks, Island Sista, for so graciously listening to my oration. And thanks to you too, my dear readers, for reading these musings.)  

Wait. I know what some of you are thinking. A Paradigm a wha?

You know, a paradigm. (pair-a-dime) A way of thinking. A set of beliefs that frame your vision and outlook on life. If you live under a Paradigm of Scarcity—and most people still do, especially in this “harsh economic reality”—you believe there is not enough to go around. The pie can only be sliced so many times and into ever smaller pieces. You have to get yours before I can get mine. The more you cling to what you have, the better off you’ll be. By having a lot of money, success, love, happiness, status, and power, you take away from the amount of those things available to everyone else. 

This kind of thinking sets us up to be stingy, greedy, defensive, anxious, jealous, tense, and often angry. Yuck! I don’t know about you, but whenever I feel any of those things in my body, it feels gross and unpleasant. And I’m likely to do and say gross and unpleasant things. Which makes me feel even grosser and more unpleasant, since I know that I’m truly a beautiful, kind, and loving person.

As with any core beliefs, our reality tends to reflect them. Meaning, that what we believe about our existence dictates the thoughts in our heads, and affects what will naturally display itself in our lives.  Our external experiences reflect our internal thoughts and beliefs. In this way, we create our own reality. My younger life reflected my beliefs. I thought I only deserved wee amounts of good, so I was only ever happy for wee amounts of time. Since I believed life worked that way…my life, indeed, worked that way.

Now, if you have chosen to live under a Paradigm of Abundance, you believe there is more than enough of everything to go around. The finite pie is a fiction of our limited beliefs. In reality, we can bake enough pies to feed the world population and have plenty for leftovers. Ultimately, the supply of money, success, love, happiness, and power is infinite and available to anyone who desires and believes they deserve these things. I can get mine AND you can get yours. The more I give, the more I receive. Your good doesn't detract from my good. In fact, your good ENHANCES my good, if only I allow it. 

This kind of thinking sets us up to be generous, flexible, supportive, peaceful, and loving. I don’t know about you, but when I feel generous, flexible, supportive, peaceful, and loving…well…it gets all warm and fuzzy in my body, and my heart seems to expand.  Then I’m likely to spread those warm fuzzies to everyone I encounter. And then they will spread those warm fuzzies to everyone THEY encounter. And then we are truly experiencing the beautiful, kind and loving people we are all meant to be.

I’m sure you’ve noticed that this sort of human emotional domino effect can easily occur with pissiness and contempt too. Let us all try not to do that any more.

Never once have I been broke since adopting a Paradigm of Abundance about my financial security and stopped constantly fretting about money. In fact, it has come to me more easily and effortlessly. When I moved to the Virgin Islands almost three years ago, I left an upwardly mobile position with full benefits in a successful growing business. I laugh now at the memory of commuting home one evening on a Minneapolis highway thinking, “I surely will never make less than _____ again. I have nothing to worry about financially. It will only get better from here.”

And while I was right about part of that statement—the part about not having to worry—I was certainly wrong about the never making less than ______ bit. Because I took over a 50% pay cut when the first job I could get on St. Thomas was in a coffee shop making little more than $10/hr with no benefits (other than an unlimited supply of free coffee and tea). And you know what? I was always fine. I didn’t get behind on my student loans. I had no problem paying for my basic needs, or taking care of Hershey. While my bank account was much closer to zero than it had been in recent years, my life felt richer in many other ways. When I couldn’t pay for some bigger ticket items (a plane ticket home for my girl Lissa’s wedding, a new hard drive and operating system for my laptop), a couple of angels in my life were happy to make gifts of those items to me. Gifts which I happily paid forward once I was in a place of greater monetary abundance. 

I want to stress that abundance encompasses much more than money. Even when our coffers feel full and secure, we may feel deprived in other areas. It has been far more difficult for me to make the shift to a Paradigm of Abundance in the area of time. For the past 15 years—roughly half of my life—there always seems to be far more on my to-do list than there is time in which to get it all done.  I create unsustainable cycles or patterns and eventually burn out. My fellow members of the millennial generation will surely recall the famed Saved By The Bell episode when Jessie Spano reaches her breaking point, exclaiming, “There’s no time….there’s never any time…I don’t have time to work…I have to study…I have to sing tomorrow…I’m so… so….scared.” And then she crashes into Zach's protective arms. I pretty much do exactly the same thing. I am trying to remind myself that even though it seems like there is a finite amount of time in a day, week, month, whatever…the more I focus on and believe in the lack of time, the more my reality will reflect such beliefs.

One exercise I’ve been doing lately to shift my beliefs and perception about time is to leisurely sing a certain Rolling Stones line to myself as I go about my daily business. Whenever I notice thoughts like, “I’m running out of time. I don’t have enough time to get all of this done,” running through my head, I replace it with, “Tiiiiiiiime, is on my side, yes it is.” And then I just loop it and I’m good to go. The fretting stops and I move forward.

We already know that the concept of time is subjective. When we’re bored and want to be doing something other than what we’re doing, time d r a g s. When we’re completely engaged in what we’re doing, time flies. The more I believe at my core that time is on my side, the more time I will find in my life. Feeling abundant only creates more abundance—even if your logical mind can’t comprehend how it could possibly work. It does.

If I could talk to my 14 and 19 year old selves, I would tell them (oh gawd, what I would tell them!) from the other side of the mirror:
“Sweetie…Baby girl…My darling Ashley…Relax! Stop. Breathe. Smile. Know this, my love, you deserve to be happy. Know that accomplishment doesn’t have to be difficult and strenuous. You accomplish more when you’re having fun! YOUR GOOD IS UNLIMITED. The only person who can keep you from your unlimited good is you, sweetheart. And remember that your 29-year-old self loves you more than you can imagine.”

Honestly, I could really benefit from my 29-year-old self telling this to my 29-year old self daily from the other side of the mirror.

Here’s what I told my Island Sista: the best part of living under a Paradigm of Abundance is that it’s contagious. Island Sista’s personal power can expand to her children and husband, boosting their own. In a very real way, she is showing her young daughters how to be a strong, successful, and loving woman. She can use her strength to empower others, not just her family, but damn near everyone she encounters. Power, success, inspiration….these things are not scarce…there is plenty available to everyone who desires and even more importantly, believes they deserve them. Many of us are phenomenally talented at denying and/or limiting our own good. When we stop limiting ourselves, we choose to love ourselves, and in loving ourselves, we can truly love others. 

We make a choice every day.  Every minute. How do we want to view the world? And how does our view affect the way we treat others? And how does the way we treat others affect how they treat others, and so on?   

Your good is unlimited. And so is everyone else’s.  We must only believe it is so, and then choose to operate as such.

Three Small Steps to Shift from a Paradigm of Scarcity to Abundance.

• ·       Never skimp on a tip…round up to 21% rather than down to 19% (NEVER tip less than 20% unless you have terrible service. Plus, the math is easy. Figure out 10% and double it.) Throw more than a few coins in the barista bucket at the coffee shop and you will make someone’s day. This is an especially powerful action when you feel a strong lack yourself. I tip generously and lovingly and have NEVER run out of money because I over-tipped. (I have never run out of money since shifting to abundance-based thinking, period. Close! But never completely. Funds have come to me in unexpected ways when I needed it most.)

• ·       Allow yourself small indulgences that are significant to you. For example, I love colorful gel pens that write luxuriously. They make me happy. For some reason, they make my life feel more vivid and rich. Ballpoint pens feel cheap and lackluster to me. So even though the pens I like are much more expensive than the ballpoint kind, I never deny myself the luxury of writing with the pens I enjoy. Even when my bank account was much closer to zero, I always let myself splurge on writing utensils, and felt richer and more abundant for it.

• ·       Before you go to bed each night, write down five things from your day for which you are grateful. This is a powerful practice that I truly miss whenever I go through a time period of not doing it. It expands your consciousness of gratitude, and attracts even more blessings into your life. See an example on the sidebar of this here blog.  

Nature's Abundance

Once...Was Enough

The bar is full, but not quite packed when we arrive around 10:30. The band is scheduled to start at 11:00, but few tings here start on time. (This tends to work well for me.) I mainly want to people watch, but do chat briefly with a European fellow. His hair, which looks to have once been red, is wispy and longish in a Back-to-the-Future-Christopher-Lloyd kind of way. What strikes me most is the giddy smile on his face.

“I usually don’t come to this side of the island but I’m starved for music down here, man,” he says with a goofy grin. I agree. It delights me to watch his diaphanous hair flutter around him while he paces enthusiastically around the room in anticipation of the band’s arrival.

I notice a girl with messy bleached hair and roots as dark as her eyeliner. Her big British jugs are held in by a much-loved Kurt Cobain tank under a short-sleeve plaid t-shirt. She wears tight cropped jeans and black boots- an ensemble I find both nostalgically comforting and anachronistically absurd. I don’t believe I’ve laid eyes on a Cobain shirt since high school. Many of the grunge kids I hung with were Nirvana diehards. For years, I was the lone Pearl Jam fanatic.

If this many people showed at a Pearl Jam knock off concert when I was a teen, it would have thrilled me, at least in finding other regional fans. But now I look around at those who exited their regular island orbit tonight to hear Once play at the Caribbean Saloon, and instead of excited, I am critically curious, expecting this to be lame. I know it won’t generate anywhere near the group energy produced at the ten or so Pearl Jam concerts I’ve seen over the past twelve years. This band will focus on hits, many of which are usually my bathroom or beer break songs.

Fittingly, the band looks similar to my high school alternafriends. The guitar and bass players even go so far as to look like teenagers themselves. But the lead singer must be well into his thirties. He wears long cargo shorts and work boots. His hair is brown, wavy and shoulder length. From behind, he does indeed look a lot like a mid-90’s Eddie Vedder.

But his voice is a caricature of Ed’s. This annoys me greatly, however does not at all surprise. I was, in fact, afraid of it. Eddie’s voice is quite distinct and easily mimicked. Most short-careered bands in the mid and late nineties copied his vocal style. This guy’s voice reminds me specifically of the singer from Seven Mary Three, the one who added “cumbersome” to many a poser’s vocabulary.

They play Alive first, a song I consider a set closer or encore pick, per Pearl Jam’s usual method of procedure. I reserve the enthusiasm exhibited by those around me, hoping they’ll break out a more random tune later in the show.

So, I am happy when they play Down, All or Nothing, Breath, and State of Love and Trust, and leave my barstool to move a bit among the crowd. During one of these exertions, I meet a very happy little guy from Puerto Rico. He approaches the stage and requests the Screaming Trees. I ask if he’s referring to the song from the Singles soundtrack.

“Singles soundtrack?!” He yells at me. “Yes, you know Singles soundtrack?!” But with his wonderful accent it sounds like he’s saying “Sinnells soun-track.”

“Yeah, of course I know it. I grew up with it!”

“Me too! Nobody in Puerto Rico ever knew the Sinnells soun-track!”

“You grew up as a Pearl Jam fan in Puerto Rico? God, you probably had an even worse time than me when it came to finding other fans! I thought I had it rough in Iowa, but I bet Puerto Rico was worse.”

“Yes, I was the only one! It sucked!” he yells at me above the music, smiling widely, and holding out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Here we are, both living on St. Thomas, yet neither of us born or raised here. Both making a specific effort to catch this Pearl Jam cover act, the closest we’ll get to seeing our favorite band live in the Caribbean. I look around at the diversity of the people—a favorite I’ve not yet mentioned is a large black man with one of those fat rolls between the bottom of his bald head and the top of his thick neck. He seems to know every word to these songs and he couldn’t be further from the grunge rocker stereotype.

At a real Pearl Jam show in Minnesota, I would mostly run into other 18-55 white Middle Americans. In a way, this makes sitting through what might as well have been a performance by the avatar band from Guitar Hero worthwhile. I get to pay a bit of homage to a bygone era in American rock music with a group of people as varied as the species of flora in the Virgin Islands.

I hope this island serves as a place of evolution for the diverse group here tonight as much as it does for me. Because who wants to be like a cover band and remain frozen in time?

Open-Minded Adapting?...Or Lowering One's Standards?

The consequences of my actions were not lost on me. Let me tell you. Before moving to St. Thomas, I understood that in doing so, I deliberately placed myself smack dab into certain discomforts. Indeed, this was part of the point. Almost like manipulating the environment of a Sim chick out of pure curiosity in the result. How will she respond to living without convenient access to things she loves like seasons and sweet corn and art house movies?

While lush in many ways, the Virgin Islands are a virtual desert when it comes to new rock and Pop* music, a Current of which flowed freely in the Twin Cities, and from which I thirstily drank. One could even say I was a bit spoiled in this regard.

If I needed a live music fix, I could see under-the-radar star M. Ward at 1st Ave or news-coverage-grabbing Rage Against the Machine at the Target Center. Since very few nationwide tours skip the Twin Cities, I had the opportunity to catch whatever act excited me at the moment, and easily be home by midnight.

I patronized cool independent record stores, my favorite being the Electric Fetus for its consistent selection, fun location just south of downtown Minneapolis, and long history in the community. Growing up, Mom always pointed the Fetus out to me when we drove on I-35 to the city from Iowa. (More often than not the trip was dedicated to seeing a rock show—few tours stops in Iowa.) She often shopped there during her brief stint in Minneapolis after high school. This knowledge always made buying music at the Fetus an extra special experience, akin to ancestral traditions like eating lefsa during the Holidays.

And, of course, The Current kept my discerning ears stimulated throughout the work day. The MPR rock radio station never failed to challenge my taste and keep me abreast of the best in new innovative and interesting (mostly indie) rock and pop.

Island radio formats consist of mass-appeal pap, Caribbean music, and Christian talk. I was, of course, completely aware of this. To keep somewhat plugged in, I planned to podcast Sound Opinions and Musicheads, read music mags and blogs, and hopefully catch a festival in the States during the summer. Any music shopping would be done online, as I assumed (however, still have not confirmed) that the music shops here don’t cater to rocker types like myself.

I figured the closest I’d get to enjoying live music on island would consist of a mediocre bar band.

So, it was mild excitement I felt when, during a brief listen to the modern rock station that broadcasts from St. Croix, I happened to hear an advertisement for Once, a Pearl Jam cover band scheduled to play on island in early December. Of course, I planned to check it out. A $5 cover and a trip to the East End are totally worth it for rare entertainment like this on St. Thomas. At the very least, I knew it would be a fun blog post to write.

To be continued…


*I mean Pop Music here in the large sense. In my mind, the small pop, defines artists of an inane variety such as Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers, whereas Pop in the large sense can refer to artists as diverse as the oft disturbing Iggy Pop, as well as the anti-sellout Neil Young. Mayhap this makes sense to you. Mayhap not.

All We Have is Now (thank you Flaming Lips)

The following is one of my favorite pictures. I didn't take it in the Caribbean, but rather at the Bonnaroo festival outside of Manchester, TN in 2008. A delightful wall surrounds the grounds and is covered with graffiti-style portraits of music icons and other bits of art and wisdom offered by festival patrons.  

The mispellings don't even bother me.

That's how much I like it.

I loved this proverb because it's a punchy, scatalogical summary of Eckhart Tolle's primary teaching. (Isn't it fun when the obscene and the divine co-mingle?) I, along with millions of other Oprah fans (ain't no shame) and spiritual seekers, had been studying Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth. I was really struck by his observation of how most people spend the majority of their lives in their head, either reliving past experiences or worrying over future ones, and thereby not truly being in the one moment we ever have in life, which is the present one. Well, I certainly recognized myself in this description.

While we were studying this particular part of the book, I discovered the same message in the lyrics to a Flaming Lips song that I'd listened to many times before without every really thinking about what it meant.
The song is aptly named, "Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell"-- the ego being an entity much discussed in Tolle's teachings. One night while listening to my headphones during the long trek down the hall to my old apartment building's laundry room, I noticed that the lyrics seemed to speak to this exact same idea.

I was waiting on a moment

But the moment never came

All the billion other moments

Were just wasting all away

I must have been tripping

Just ego tripping

                         

I listened to the song for days. It was a rock and roll balm. I listened in my car, in my bedroom, and on my mp3 player when necessary-- trying desperately to remind myself to embody the present moment in a way that I will listen. I have no idea what Wayne Coyne had in mind when he wrote those lyrics. To me, hearing them that night in the stuffy corridor of my Minneapolis apartment complex was a little bit of synchronicity, the universe pointing out something that might be able to help me enjoy this life a bit more.


For the last couple of days, I've been listening to an interview with Eckhart Tolle by Krista Tippett on Speaking of Faith. This has been after taking a long Tolle break for reasons I won't elaborate upon at the moment. I enjoyed hearing his soothing, yoda-like voice again, teaching his lessons in a way that makes them seem so simple. He mentioned using what he calls a pointer when you notice you're in a state of mental suffering. This is something to ask yourself when you feel stress or anxiety settle in your body. "What is my relationship with the present moment right now? Am I friends with the present moment or are we enemies?"  This pointer has, indeed, been helpful to me, albeit far from a magic bullet.

My decision to move to St. Thomas is for some reason wrapped up with my desire for living an anxiety free life. (This might be considered ironic since moving here has conjured up a host of fresh worries). I realized the other day that there will always be something for me to worry about. Right now I'm worried about not getting a job down here (since we already know my last resort option of bartending is out) and not being able to pay my bills...those student loans for the college degree that I so value but don't seem to be using. Soon I will be employed, and my current worry will no longer be valid. By that time something else will have me worried. Some drama at work or perhaps worrying that I'm not doing a good enough job. Or something will occur in my family life. The point is, you can always find things to worry about. Me especially; I've been a pro since childhood. So the key is not to just solve whatever it is that worries me right now, but to discover a way of living in which anxiety has no part.

We're working on it...
And by "we", I mean the royal collection of voices in my head.