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

Ashley's Dog Hershey Finally Declared Useful

“Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Budget, and I’m looking for a new home. I used to live on a boat, and that was okay, but I didn’t have enough room to run and play…” 

It continued in grievously adorable fashion. The picture was one of those atrocious animal shots taken from above showing only a very dark blob that I presumed was the dog in question. But it didn’t matter that I couldn’t make out his features. I was already in love.

It was Monday morning, and I had spotted the Humane Society ad in the Daily News less than 24 hours after deciding to adopt a dog. The impetus being to provide a companion for my then boyfriend’s endearing but massive and overzealous Weimaraner who desperately needed a playmate. I found it difficult to write in the evenings with a 90 pound dog constantly climbing onto my lap.  

Budget stayed on my mind all week. I couldn’t get to the Humane Society to meet him because they closed before my shift ended at the coffee shop. I called several times to make sure he was still there. I hoped to meet him over the weekend. But when I called on Friday afternoon, they told me Budget had left for a family visit. I could try back the next day in case he and the family dog didn't get along.

Now, I’m not the follow-up type.  I have to be extraordinarily moved to make that 2^nd phone call. Well, I was thusly moved that Saturday, and my instincts proved accurate. Budget and the other dog didn’t play well. He was back at the kennel. They'd be open for an hour if I wanted to pick him up for a visit. 

Budget was eager to be free. He ran toward us as if his life depended on it. And I suppose it did. The instant we took him outside he lifted his leg and peed on Mr. T’s ankle. 

Nevertheless, I refused to let Budget sit in the truck bed on the way home. He sat in the cab with us, practically on my lap, but since he was half the size of Harley, he felt like a lap dog. It took about thirty seconds of riding together to realize this was a SWEET dog. He leaned into me, emanating love. 

I swiftly decided that he was a keeper. However, I was not-so-swiftly discovering that Mr. T. & I were not keepers—at least as far as the other was concerned. So, I made sure to pay for Budget and to put my name on his adoption papers. My little black bundle of love and I were going to be partners until one of us left this earth. Dammit.

We’ve been together for over two years now. Today he’s known as Hershey…with an aka of “Budget”. He needed a new loving name for a new loving life, but I decided to keep Budget as a street name. After all, what’s a Thomian street dog without a Thomian street name?

I’ve known that Hershey is special since the day we met. His little doggie body just feels good! When he leans against my leg to let me know he’s there, I feel loving energy flow into me. Other people have pointed this out too. One recent guest—a delightful acupuncturist from NYC—wrote in the guestbook that, “Hershey speaks a special language…the language of touch.” Thank you, Denise, for using those words to describe his essence.

I’ve always felt that Hershey and I were brought together to take care of one another. But it occurred to me during a Reiki session with another recent guest that perhaps Hershey entered my life to teach me a few things too.

We were using my bedroom for the healing session. Before beginning, she asked my spirit guides and angels to enter the room with us for protection and guidance. At that very moment, Hershey quietly walked into the room, gently sniffed my guest’s leg, and curled up in the corner where he stayed for the entire hour. 

Hmmm…I thought…maybe Hershey is an older and wiser soul than I’ve given him credit for. 

In the few months since that day, it’s become clear that Hershey does, indeed, have valuable lessons to offer. If, that is, I can suspend my ego mind long enough to entertain the notion that a dog is one of my teachers.  Here are ten lessons I’ve learned from him so far.

Greet strangers as friends. If they become friends, great! If not, oh well. Move on.

Hershey loves everybody. And assumes everybody loves him. Most people do grow fond of him. Some love him instantly as I did. And those who don’t like Hershey…well that has far more to do with what’s going on inside them than it has to do with any of Hershey’s qualities. He doesn’t take it personally. He just moves on to the next experience, and lets it go. 

If you are injured, tired, or sick…let yourself rest.  

Hershey doesn’t push or strive. He instinctively paces himself.  If we’re on a walk and he’s tired, he’ll lie down. Won’t move. Not til he’s ready to go again. No ego voice tells him that he doesn’t have time to rest or that he should be stronger and more resilient than he is. Or that he’s lazy. Nope. If he has a sore paw or if he exhausted himself playing at the beach…he rests and recovers appropriately. Without guilt. He knows innately when rest is required. 

Nap during the hottest time of day. 

Everything else you undertake will be miserable anyway. And the siesta will make you more alert and productive during the cool, comfortable evening hours.

Don’t take every scolding or criticism to heart. 

Hershey’s stock response to discipline is to yawn and look the other way. If I keep going, he will usually play the cute submissive card, and offer up his belly for a rub.  

*Yawn.*   “I really can’t be bothered with your yammering about the tipped over trash. What did you expect? I’m a dog. You left me alone, and there were leftovers in the garbage can. Why don’t you just come over here and rub my belly? It’ll make us both feel better.” 

Never has this response on his part resulted in more severe punishment on my part. (Damn little Hershey Squirt.) But feeling resentment, guilt and lack of self-worth for hours or days would not improve his situation. Nor does it ever improve ours. 

Ask for what you want. 

Hershey doesn't fear letting me know that he expects a treat after his walk. And when he’s done with that treat, he asks for another. Which he usually gets. And after that one, he asks for another still. Which he will sometimes get. And after that one, he will ask for another one still. Which he will not get. The disappointment of which he will pretty much get over immediately. But after his next walk, he’ll ask again for a treat. Which he’ll get. And then he’ll ask again….you get the picture. Asking for what he wants doesn’t embarrass him or produce anxiety like it often does me. Like everything else in his doggie world, he keeps it simple.

Openly accept the love that is offered to you. 

Hershey rejects no one. In fact, he prefers to have little love transactions with everyone he meets. You give my ears a scratch, I give you some of my naturally radiating warm fuzzies, and we both go on our way a little better for having exchanged a bit of love today. Love is offered to us every day in a million ways if we open our hearts and choose to accept it. Can you imagine what our daily experiences would be like if everyone adopted this attitude?

Confidently use your strengths to harness your desires. 

Hershey’s main strength around people is that he’s really damn cute. (Unfortunately you can’t tell so much in photos.) In addition to the cute factor, he emits happy love vibes. And he knows how to use these tools to get his favorite thing: attention.  

If I’m standing around talking to guests or vendors in Hershey’s presence, and he feels he’s not being properly acknowledged… he’ll quietly roll on his back, all four legs relaxed into dead weight, making no mistake to communicate that he’s offering up his belly for a rub. Often this move alone does the trick.

But if we’re really engaged in conversation—paying no mind to the dog—he’ll perform the Doodle Bug Dance. Remaining in the supine position, he wiggles back and forth as if to scratch his back. I have no doubt that back-scratching is not Hershey’s aim in this instance. No. Rather, he is using his cuteness to get what he wants: your love and affection. And let me tell you, the Doodle Bug Dance works every time.

Even wise old souls need time and space in which to play. 

The aforementioned delightful NYC acupuncturist also might have told me that I’m… “a little wound up,”… “bossy,” and… “a little serious.” Ha! She said these things with love. I needed to hear them, and am thus grateful. I certainly do forget to play.

Hershey is a mellow dog. He’s usually happy just being in the same room as the people. But when he feels like playing, he goes for it, man. He lets his freak flag FLY. When people meet him in this mode, they ask if he’s a puppy and are surprised to learn he’s five or six. 

Our lives aren’t meant to consist of drudgery and struggle. We’re supposed to have fun! Let our puppy energy out when we feel the urge! Hershey reminds me to honor that urge.    

Know when to be patient and when to assert yourself. 

Hershey’s patience can break my heart. Especially when I catch myself being impatient with him during our walks… when he dawdles along stopping to sniff every 15 seconds, and I have what I think are very important things to do. Yet, he’s eternally patient with me when waiting to walk.

But when it’s urgent or if I’ve put him off too long or when he just can’t take for one minute longer the knowledge that people are on the pool deck having fun without him, he lets me know. He talks and whines. He flaps his ears. He sits in front of me, looking expectantly in my eyes, and wagging his tail as if the energy he puts out in doing so will actually force me to move.  

And since he’s usually patient and well-behaved, I know that when Hershey makes a fuss, I’d better listen. I think it works the same way with people.

Exploring is fun, but there's no place like home.

Hershey wanders. As a result of this, he ended up back at the Humane Society twice in our first four months together. This is not something that he has necessarily grown past either. Yet, I can’t begrudge his urge to explore without being tethered to his mom. Good God, how can I suppress that independence and curiosity in a living creature?

Unfortunately though, for his safety, and for our continued peace with the neighbors, he doesn’t get to adventure much by himself anymore. Unless he pulls his signature stealth move and sneaks away when I’m distracted. Which, in all honesty isn't that infrequent of an occurrence...

But now Hershey never stays away for longer than twenty or thirty minutes. He always comes home. When he reaches the door, his enthusiasm is truly awesome. Bursting forth from the excitement he had on his adventures, he’s simultaneously elated to see me and be home again.

For reasons not worth delving into at the moment, I’ve developed a fluid relationship with the idea of home. For me, home is far more related to being in the presence of those with whom I share unconditional love and support than in visiting a particular community or house. 

So really, although Hershey was the one in more obvious need of a home…his adoption was a homecoming for us both.

Resting in a freshly dug hole after a good romp at Nelteberg.

F*** You, Rogers and Hammerstein!

When I told people I planned to spend Thanksgiving in Oklahoma, I generally received one of two single-word reactions. Either “Oklahoma?” expressed with a mixture of scorn and disbelief. Or my less-preferred response, namely, the person breaking out in a show tune, the title of which I don’t think it necessary to specify. Said song never failed to subsequently get stuck on repeat in my head. 

Besides spending a few days with Mom (always enjoyable and the whole point of the trip), I enthused myself about spending five days in a place to which I’d never had an inkling of desire to visit, by expecting it to at least be blogworthy. My experience in Oklahoma would prove to be so ass backwards, so different from either my upper Midwestern or island home, that it would make an amusing blog post. And in this regard, I’m sorry to say, I have few worthy anecdotes.

Perhaps my favorite observation was a useful reminder of the beauty of unfettered, childlike enthusiasm. On the short flight from Dallas to Tulsa, I was wholly entertained and touched by an endless conversation between three little kids sitting in the two rows ahead of me. These kids could not have been more excited to be flying to our destination. One little girl was especially vocal and surprisingly verbal for how young she looked.  She kept saying in a tiny squeak of a voice, “We’re going to Tulsa, Oklahoma! We’re going to Tulsa, Oklahoma!”

I told her mother that I’d never heard anyone so pumped about visiting Oklahoma. I must say that it pepped me up about the prospect of spending five days in a state I’d previously categorized as boring and stupid. (Which, I must admit is rather hypocritical of me, having always been supremely annoyed at this very same attitude towards Iowa.) When the flight landed, a pudgy-faced boy circa eight-years-old popped his head over the seat two rows in front of me to greet Lil Miss Chatty behind him.

“Hi!” he said, practically bursting with good cheer.

“Hi!” she said back. “You have a happy Thanksgiving, okay?”

“Thanks! I’m gonna have a happy Thanksgiving! You have a happy Thanksgiving too!” he responded with such a sincere and precious joyousness that I almost exploded from sheer delight. Interacting with children usually works for me as an effective form of psychological birth control, but these sweeties actually made me look forward to one day being a mother.

Kids have access to this vast reserve of enthusiasm from which adults seem to have lost touch. I remember the feeling. Well, it’s hard to conjure the exact sensation, but I know I've experienced it. As a child, looking so forward to the next day’s events that I could scarcely sleep. So rare is this feeling anymore, that when I catch a whisp of it...a glimmer of that pure excitement, I try to stay in that spot. Or follow it if it moves. It was, in part, this fleeting state of enthusiasm that I trailed to St. Thomas.

And I’ll tell ya this much, that feeling sure as hell ain’t gonna send my ass to Oklahoma. Don’t get me wrong, Tulsa seemed fine. While there, we managed to locate the only independent record store as well as a rare metaphysical/New Age shop: two Ashley-appreciated amenities. Tulsa really felt no different than the rural, middle-American cities of Des Moines and Omaha. And visiting was a good, if unnecessary, reminder of the types of places I never want to live. 

Another, perhaps more necessary, reminder came on Thanksgiving Day, which we spent at Mom’s man’s daughter’s house. She is a lovely woman about a year older than me. And she has a husband, a baby, and a very nice suburban home in one of those treeless neighborhoods where all the newly-built houses look exactly the same. In other words, she’s much further along in her life than I am.

But…BUT…this is what I walked away from a year and a half ago. A beautiful domesticated life. And being faced with what my future would have looked like if I’d stayed on that path, I’m glad I made the change. It was most definitely right for me. Since I wasn’t entirely sure about this when I visited the states six months ago, I appreciated the opportunity to confirm the wisdom of my actions.

More affirmations of being on the right path came during a tarot card reading. I like to get them every few months whenever I feel stuck or need some guidance. I’ve found readings to be exponentially more helpful than most therapy sessions I’ve attended (excluding the few I had with Julia before moving to STT). As soon as I walked in the room, Ms. Dreamkeeper told me I needed to deal with the paperwork I’d been procrastinating on. She was right. I’ve been putting off dealing with both the STT BMV and the MN DOT for weeks/months now. I needed that little kick in the ass.

We talked about many things, and I daresay, she was accurate on most. Tarot card readings usually work for me. I’ve taken friends with before, and they have later said, “That reading was shit,” which is disappointing since I usually find them so helpful. Perhaps because I go into them without skepticism. I’m always told that I’m easy to read for because I’m so open. I expect to be helped, and so I am. Usually far more than I’d be after months of expensive therapy.

In this particular tarot reading, the most affirming bit came when I asked if writing this book about St. Thomas is what I’m supposed to be focusing on right now. The next card she flipped over contained one item: a book.

Thank you, Universe, for the clear communication! 


P.S. My mom looks great! She has a chic, post-chemo hair-cut and is now rocking an auburn color instead of the blonde highlights that she wore for so long. She is mom to four very sweet Yorkshire Terriers. Because they are ridiculously small, I refer to them as The Vermin. She spends much of her time herding this vermin. Two members of the pack are 9-week old puppies, Slug and Izzie. I chose Slug as my bed partner. His preference was to sleep in the crook of my neck, which I found not at all unpleasant.

Island Animal Watch: White Rabbits?

During my last session with Julia, the holistic and spiritual-if-you-want-her-to-be therapist I visited before moving to St. Thomas, I asked if she had any final wisdom before I departed on my adventure.

“Follow white rabbits,” she replied.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to elaborate on that one, please.”

She said that in the The Matrix,  Keanu Reeves’ character repeatedly sees white rabbits, he follows them, and they lead to the next step on his journey. (Of course, the Alice in Wonderland derived white rabbit theme has become a modern narrative archetype, if not a total pop culture cliche'. Which makes my experience with them in St. Thomas even more astonishing.) I told her I’d recently noticed a surplus of fleur-de-lis in my life, and Mr T. is being driven crazy by multiple ones (yes, like the number, 1111). She urged me to pay attention to signs like these because they are affirmations of being on the right path…or, I suppose, warnings of being on the wrong one, depending on the vibe.

Both fleur-de-lis and 111’s accompanied us on our road trip from Minneapolis to Miami, creating an enchanting sense of magical flow.

Which started to wear off about a week after being in St. Thomas when the anxiety—my old toxic frenemy—returned. But by the grace of some godly entity, I had an affirming experience that hit violently, like a much-needed smack upside my soul.

Mom, Mr. T and I were at the Hull Bay Hideaway for dinner. Mom and I drove together, and Mr. T met us on his bike. When it was time to leave, he suggested that I join him. I’d been scared up to this point, never having ridden a motorcycle before. Fortunately, I was aided by some of the liquid courage that flows so freely in St. Thomas. I reminded myself that I am here for some adventure, dammit. And riding on the back of a crotch-rocket on a mountainous, drunken island certainly counts.

As we rolled out of the boatyard/parking lot, I noticed some fluffy white bunny rabbits hopping in the grass. It never occurred to me that an animal so common to the temperate region of my homeland would also live in the tropics. Bunny rabbits aren’t tropical, are they? I can accept vermin like rats, mongoose and lizards… but cottontail bunnies? They seemed so completely out of place. An animal anatopism. But there they were, chilling in the grass, black eyes shining in the dark.

It wasn’t until I got to Mr. T's house after what turned out to be an exhilarating ride that I remembered what Julia had told me only I a few weeks earlier. Never did I think her advice would manifest itself so literally in my life. The realization actually gave me goosebumps, followed by a welcome sense of calm and wonder. For the next few weeks, I continued to see white rabbits around The Hideaway . And as the anxiety grew worse, they always brought a bit of warm fuzzy.

Most recently, I’ve encountered the white rabbits at Seven Minus Seven, the alternative arts collective I'm involved with. I first noticed them on an old graffiti-painted car outside. (I just now realized the car is actually a VW Golf, a model previously known as a VW Rabbit, which makes this story even better.)

And then on the indoor painting below:

(All done by former Artist-in-Residence, Paz. If you're interested in buying any of the art Paz' created at the 7-7 warehouse, we're happy to facilitate you.)




It's that long skinny one with the white rabbits over on the left above the fridge.
I want it for myself someday.

These encounters with white rabbits serve as a reminder not to discount magic. It may not come in a pull-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat kinda way (okay, yes, pun intended). But it’s still there, sometimes in the most literal, face-slapping manner possible. One thing I've learned since this whole adventure began is that paying attention to these synchronicities—what my friend Beth calls tiny miracles— makes life a helluva lot more mysterious and fun.

On Spirituality and Religion, Part 4: Why Claiming to be Spiritual but not Religious Goes Beyond Glib Identification

During a recent episode of Speaking of Faith, host Krista Tippett asked guest Robert Wright his opinion on the increasingly popular “trend” of people professing to be spiritual, but not religious. I perceived an attitude from both parties that this is sort of a laughable cliché espoused by the superficial.

And I suppose Mr. Seversen would agree.

But I disagree. And I disagree, strongly.

People describe their spiritual life in this manner for reasons that run much deeper than trendiness and ease. We connect more with our global community every day, allowing us to discover that our own religion doesn’t hold the only truth that resonates within us. We identify less with the constructs of religion yet still feel the presence of a higher power in our lives. We feel the current of a larger, Universal truth running beneath our everyday reality. We’ve been exposed to numerous religious and spiritual traditions, and are able to glean what works for us to create a personal spirituality.

I find nothing silly or cliché about this so-called trend. I actually find it rather hopeful that we are beginning to see beyond the doctrines of our particular religions to the Universal beliefs at the core of most traditions. Our minds are opening, and so are our hearts.

When the topic of one’s religious or spiritual life enters the conversation, how should people respond who are nonreligious, but believe in life beyond the physical? Something to the tune of “Well, I believe in a Higher Power, but not the kind of god I learned about growing up…I guess you could say I’m spiritual, but not religious,” doesn’t sound shallow or faddish to me. It certainly requires more thought than saying, “I’m Catholic,” or “I’m a Muslim,” or, “I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,"

Let’s look at two definitions for the terms in discussion, courtesy of dictionary.com:

Religion.
#1: “a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.”

Spirituality.
#2: “of or pertaining to the spirit or soul, as distinguished from the physical nature: a spiritual approach to life.’

While this definition of spirituality is certainly concise, I think it nicely encapsulates my own spiritual life. In regard  to religion, I suppose the spirituality I’ve described in these last few posts does contain a vague set of beliefs regarding the cause, nature, and purpose of the Universe. But it’s definitely fluid and open in nature. I have no name for it, no sacred text, and no religious leader, or set of practices to follow. My moral code consists of the golden rule.

Does what I describe sound like religion to you?

How do you describe yourself spiritually?

On Spirituality and Religion, Part 3: Statement of Faith

By their very nature, spiritual beliefs are difficult to verbalize. Ironically, in being articulated and thus distilled to a level of human understanding, their spiritual essence is removed. Which is probably why I avoided this part of my spirituality series, if I may call it such. Following is my attempt to articulate the ineffable. Per usual, I use more words than necessary.

Everything is connected.
Humans. Animals. Plants. Weather. Oceans. Nature. Politics. Wars. Diseases. Miracles. Violence. Love.
Everything. Everything. Is. Connected.

What appears to be many is actually one.
Which is why everything is connected.
It really is One Love, mon.
God is the one. Everything else, the many.
So whether we realize it or not, we are one with God or Goddess or Source or Allah. God doesn’t care the name we use.

Living beings have souls—an eternal essence of who we are existing beyond life and death, time and space. We can always access this part of our being, although it is extremely hard for most of us to do. Meditation quiets and stills our human minds so we can chill with our eternal, peaceful soul for awhile.

We live more than one life on this, and perhaps other, earths.

Our time on earth is an opportunity for our souls to grow and evolve.

Heaven and hell do not exist in the traditional manner. We may experience an expected version of heaven or hell after we die, but it is neither for reward nor punishment, neither is it an eternal state.

What we offer to the world is offered back to us.
We often refer to this as karma.

Our inner experience is mirrored in our outer world. If you feel shitty about yourself and believe others are out to get you, your experience will certainly confirm it.


The Golden Rule is cool…
Do unto others as you would have done unto you.
I will go further and say that
In a larger sense, which we may not readily perceive,
What we do unto others, we also do unto ourselves.

On Spirituality and Religion, Part 2: Background

I’ve been actively soul searching and spiritually seeking for a few years now. This is nothing more than a return to my childlike nature. I couldn’t help but ponder spiritual, metaphysical, and ethical questions (as well as a host of other topics not immediately applicable to this here blog post) in my youth.

I had many deep inquiries:

“Why are we part of life on this earth?”

“Where did I come from before I was born? After I die, where will I go? Is it the same place?”

“Could our Universe really be as small as a blade of grass or grain of sand? Have I had other lives on this earth or elsewhere? If so, did I know my mom or my dogs in any of them?”

“Why am I supposed to love God more than anyone else? I love my mom more than I love God, and I don’t really want to change that.

“Why is it that some people are born so nerdy, and other people are born cool? It’s not really fair, is it?”

These innate spiritual questions were informed by Christian teachings. First in the rigid Missouri-Synod Lutheran school where I went until 5th grade. Then in the more liberal, yet just as cliquey, Presbyterian church where I was confirmed—an event directly proceeding the termination of my faith in Christianity and the initiation of my agnostic phase.

I set about focusing on secular life. One thing I knew for sure: religion, especially Christianity, didn't interest me at all. Some Eastern traditions (about which I knew little) piqued my curiosity, but I really thought religion a manmade construct that harmed more than helped.
I don’t think this an uncommon route for the modern spiritual seeker.

But in the past few years, I have naturally revisited my childhood ponderings on the reason for human existence. I can’t remember exactly how this yearning returned, but it started around the same time I came to know Dr. Scott Taylor. His doctoral dissertation on the transformative effect of Near Death Experiences on survivors rekindled the passion that fuels my current spiritual quest. His findings were fascinating, and I craved more. Scott introduced me to Abraham-Hicks and the Law of Attraction, Conversations with God, and Bob Monroe’s spiritual and scientific Journeys out of the Body.

Then Oprah (She’s my hero. Ain’t no shame.) chose A New Earth as her book club selection and even went so far as to create an entire web-based class around it. Some girlfriends formed a book club, and so I was introduced to Eckhart Tolle and his theories about the ego and the pain body. Tolle's teachings transformed the way in which I view my lifelong addiction to worry and anxiety. He has taught me the importance of presence.

The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron has shaped and enriched my spirit in dramatic fashion. I wouldn’t be on this beautiful island if I hadn’t decided to start her course while visiting ten months ago. Committing to a Morning Pages practice and daring to see myself as an artist sparked a synchronous chain of life changers, and I will never be the same. Leaving my old life was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Exciting yes, but extremely painful at the same time. I left one of my most deeply treasured relationships behind.

But I had to do it. Deep down, in my soul, I know this to be true.

And, so here I am. A young adult holding hands with the spirit of her wondering, magical inner child. Trying now, in cyberspace, to articulate her faith both in and to the universe.

Saturday Sunset View from the Porch

Evidence of a Higher Power

On Spirituality and Religion, Part I: Context

So, I’m reading an email from my favorite curmudgeon and former high school teacher, Mr. Seversen…three weeks after it arrived in my Inbox, of course…

I’m annoyed to see his response to a question I’d asked in a previous email regarding something he’d written to me. Specifically, he referred to me becoming born-again. Aghast at the very thought, I demanded to know the reason for his inquiry.

His irksome response:

“You made some comment about spiritual journey or something like that. And I’m deeply amused by people being “spiritual” and non religious. What the hell is that? Religion comes in many forms like that goon, Deepak Chopra…the mater of double speak.”

Now, I’ve never actually read anything by Deepak Chopra. All I know is that he belongs to the body of spiritual philosophy known as New Thought, which is related to the wider, more fluid, and much-mocked, New Age Movement. So, Sev (pronounced Seeve) has a good idea of the neighborhood in which I live spiritually. I must have dropped some hints.

His comment bothers me because I feel quite strongly that moving to St. Thomas is part of a spiritual journey I don’t yet fully understand. One of the only things I am sure of when it comes to my recent life transition is that being here is an essential step on my path.

Furthermore, I feel compelled to articulate what exactly I do believe, spiritually speaking. Not just so I can explain to others, but so I can more truly understand myself. Strangely enough, I discover a lot about what I think and feel from the writing process.

Therefore, I’m taking the opportunity to explore what I mean when I say that I’m spiritual and not religious. It’s fine if people don’t agree with me, I just want to avoid them finding me amusingly ironic or completely oblivious, as my dear Mr. Seversen seems to.

Thank you, Mr. Seversen. Even though your comments chafed, you’ve inspired me to articulate what exactly it is that I believe and why. Proving once again, that you are an excellent and necessary teacher in this here lifetime. Perhaps others as well. Or perhaps I served as a teacher for you in another lifetime…

Oops! I’m going all New Age on you again.

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.