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It’s a Bird! It’s a Plane! It’s a…Gift from the Universe!

I journal just about every day. There is no literary genius in this daily journal. In fact if anyone were to find it and read it after I’m gone, I’d be posthumously embarrassed, if there’s such a possibility. Not because there’s anything nefarious in it, but because it’s mostly positive self-pep-talk and gratitude for stuff and things that have yet to manifest.

Journaling keeps me sane and grateful. Sometimes, especially when I’m down, I ask for signs from the Universe.

I’m mindful not to ask for those too much. It’s not even that I don’t want to be greedy, I just tend to get plenty of those without asking.

Yesterday, though, I was feeling absolutely buoyant, for no particular reason. Actually, for lots of little reasons would be more accurate, just not one big one in particular.

While I was journaling I realized I rarely ask the Universe for anything when I’m feeling good. So I did.

And then I forgot all about it. Which is how I roll. That’s basically the key to manifesting, difficult as it may be to master.

Last night I was at the high school football game three hours away watching Cora Jane in marching band and wondering why I still remember the jersey numbers of the kids on the football team when I was a cheerleader in high school.

I’m going to rewind for a minute to tell a story within a story because none of this will make sense unless I do.

A week after Keenan was born, I gathered up two-year-old Cora and her new baby brother and we all took the two hour sojourn to the airport to pick up my Mom.

As we neared the airport, Keenan was sleeping soundly, as newborns tend to do, and Cora was beginning to get bored, as two-year-olds tend to do. I was getting flustered, as new Moms tend to do.

I took advantage of the airplanes that started appearing.

“Ooh, Cora, look at the airplane!”

She quietly observed each plane I pointed out.

After about the fourth one she sighed and soberly remarked (to herself mostly), “Wow. My Mom really likes airplanes.” Absolutely nonplussed. Deadpan.

You guys, I was hormonal and frazzled, as any week out mother on a two hour solo journey with two kids would be, and I cannot describe to you how funny this was. I’d been schooled by my two-year-old.

I was like, “I don’t like airplanes! I don’t give a shit about airplanes! You’re two! I’m pointing at the airplanes because TWO-YEAR-OLDS like airplanes!”

In my head of course. Also, in my head, I wished another adult was around to share how absolutely hilarious my two-year-old was.

I tell my kids stories about when they were little all the time. If I didn’t, I don’t know that they’d remember the good stuff about us together and there was so much of it. I worry sometimes that my storytelling is annoying, but they always prompt me to ‘tell it again’ when I stop midway because I’ve already told this one. Which warms my heart. More than you can imagine.

Cora loves this story in particular. Especially because she’s older and can see it from my point of view.

As a joke I text her videos and photos of airplanes accompanied with, “Look, a boring airplane.”

Ahem, anyway. Circling back to last night.

We’re in the stands at the stadium and there is a *dull roar behind us. As the rumble gets louder, a very low-flying plane approaching the nearby airport emerges from directly behind us and every head in the stands turns upward.

(*see what I did there? Dull roar…I can almost hear the dull roar of your laughter…)

I swear to you, time slowed down.

I looked to my left and damn near every kid in the marching band was pointing at the plane and saying, “Ooooooh! A plane!”

Except for my kid. My kid was looking at me incredulously with the biggest grin ever on her face.

I nearly froze with joy. Momentarily I gained my composure and mouthed, “Did you see the plane?”

She nodded and we both threw our heads back laughing.

On the three hour drive home I mostly meditated. Or had a meditative time observing how fucking fast Texans drive.

When suddenly I realized. The airplane. That unexpected perfect moment.

I’d received my gift.

I’m so glad I asked for it.

Have a blessed day.

Shhhhhhh…

In spite of all my spiritual bullshit, as someone not so fond of me once called it, I’m very human and very flawed. I’m also very okay with that and some folks don’t think that’s so spiritual. Which is fine, too.

I remember hearing Pema Chodron on a YouTube video once sharing her personal experience with meditation and she joked about what a terrible meditator she is and that people tend to assume that since she’s, like, an actual monk, it’s something she is good at. But, apparently she has a busy mind.

I heard this at a time when I was beginning my meditation journey and it was perfect and timely because I was a terrible meditator as well. Especially in the beginning. I simply decided not to care. I told myself it didn’t matter how shittily I meditated, I was going to SIT for the designated time NO MATTER WHAT.

As I practiced there began to be spaces amidst the perpetual streams of thoughts. Mostly when I didn’t criticize or judge myself for the thoughts showing up.

My mind is still busy sometimes when I meditate, but there is quite a bit more space, and sometimes some pretty cool shit happens. That’s just bonus and never my intention when I sit. Interestingly, as cool shit started visiting, my mind grabbed hold once again and attempted to make meditation about cool shit happening.

So I let go again.

It’s a process, I suppose is all I’m saying.

While I’m stringent about my ‘meditation time’ I’m rather loosey-goosey with how it goes.

I’m ‘off’ when I miss it, which happens now and again. But I never skip it.

I meditate twenty minutes a day. Sometimes that length is a struggle, but it’s where I’ve settled in over the past almost four years.

Something has happened, though, in the past few weeks. I have been, hmmm, called into silence? Beckoned? Dragged, with requisite kicking and screaming?

Actually, and honestly, perhaps I’ve voluntarily jumped, head first?

My meditation time has become one hour. I’m floored by this. In fact, a month ago one hour would have seemed absolutely arduous and even counterproductive. But…

The thing I love about at least giving my mind the opportunity for silence is that ideas have space to pop in. I pay attention. There are quieter voices in my head that aren’t heard above the din of the rest but if I make the time to listen, I catch them.

It was in this way that I heard the whisper to meditate longer. And so I did, no matter the protestations of the other, rowdier voices.

I’ve also become increasingly…bothered? Resistant? Averse? Whatever. I can’t quite put my finger on it, exactly. But…noise…no thanks. I’m preferring no noise. Hmmm…that’s not quite true, either. I don’t mind the day to day conversations in the background, clinks and clangs, or hums and honks that are a part of life. But as someone who, while I don’t watch television, enjoys watching YouTube and reading to occupy my brain, I’m losing interest in those things.

This feels…important for some reason.

I share it, also, because I’ve heard it echoed by others.

Zeke said to me yesterday, “It’s weird but I haven’t been playing the radio lately.” You guys, sometimes I’ll walk through the house and between the garage and the bedroom I’ll be met with no less than three radios and one television. All on! This is a rather drastic change for him.

Are you becoming still? I’d love to hear of others’ experiences.

This shift seems significant and appropriate and lovely.

Well, That Answers That

I was driving along running errands and, as I am wont to do, I decided to have a little chat with my Spirit Team.

I powered off the radio, took a deep breath, and said some thing like this…

“All right you guys, I’m really happy. Like really happy. I just feel a little…I don’t know, aimless. That’s fine. It really is. I’m okay with aimless. That doesn’t mean I’m not busy, happily busy as a matter of fact. I’m just not really sure if, well, if there’s something else I’m supposed to be doing. I’m busy without direction. I’m digging it, honestly. But…anyway, I’m pretty dense when it comes to messages that are nuanced, so if you guys could give me a solid shout out that I’m headed in the right direction, if there even is a right direction, I’d really appreciate it. Eternally grateful for your love and all that.”

I remained silent for just a minute, enjoying the view of Lake Dillon as Colorado tag after Colorado tag sped by me. It’s funny, I get the sense that Colorado people, one of whom I happen to be, don’t like driving behind vehicles that have Texas tags, ha ha! They’re always passing me and then driving just as fast, or even slower, than I am. It’s okay though, I used to be one of those Colorado people.

As I turned the radio back on, I looked down at the trip odometer which I hadn’t reset since I drove up from Texas last week and it said, 1234.5 miles.

I smiled. That felt like a pretty immediate response. All things in divine order. One step at a time. Chop wood, carry water.

After a few minutes, I arrived at my destination. I pulled into a parking space, turned off the car, and got out. As I walked past the car I had parked next to this license plate caught my eye. Believe it or not, I’ve outgrown looking for signs, for the most part anyway. So it’s not like I’m always looking at license plates, but for some reason this one jumped out; it was damn near glowing.

Here’s the thing, I don’t share stuff like this because I’m so awesome and I want everyone to know or anything like that. I mean I am awesome but so is everybody else and I want everyone else to know they’re as awesome as me. We’re awesome!!! I share things like this because once upon a time I didn’t feel I was special enough to receive messages from my Spirit Team. But I am. And you are. We all have a Spirit Team and they have messages for us.

We just have to ask. And then listen. Sometimes with your eyes.

After my errands were done and I got back into the car, I wanted to double check the meaning of abide. The immediate intuited message I got was to keep on keeping on. I did a little search on Google and the archaic definition made my neck shiver.

That’s how I know things.

Yup. Exactly.

Namaste, and beautiful people. Abide.

I Don’t Care

A couple of years ago I worked at a restaurant as a server a few times a month. It was a second job and my coworkers were all approximately two and a half decades younger than me.

One day we had a gentleman who came in and was decidedly unsatisfied with everything about his experience (specifically I’m talking about his dining experience but I wonder about the rest of it as well). He was so rude that he made the girl serving him cry. I don’t like stuff like that.

See, I have a lot of mothering bubbling under the surface with no convenient outlet, so if you happen to be two and a half decades younger than me, my maternal instincts will leak all over you. None of the unwitting recipients of my Mama Bear have complained thus far because I don’t sMother.

Which is kind of the way I had hoped to parent my own kids.

Where was I? Oh…I offered to take over the table for her. Through tears she said, “Are you sure? He’s really mean.” To which I replied, “Girl, you have NO IDEA the things I have been called. And I lost my kids. Seriously, try to hurt my feelings.” She laughed.

I make people laugh about hard things. I don’t know if it’s exactly a gift, but it feels like it.

Humor is holy.

Here’s the thing. I cared about the guy’s steak. But he wasn’t upset about his steak. People aren’t mean to people because steaks aren’t cooked to their specifications. I didn’t know exactly what the guy was mad about, but I knew enough to know that even if he called me a dumb cunt, it wasn’t about me.

I’m telling you, if you really want to get some shadow work accomplished, get yourself some enemies. Someone with an agenda intended to expose you. I’ve been called things that would suck all of the moisture out of a dog terd. For real.

The guy was a dick, but I didn’t care, which deflated him a little. I cared about his service but I didn’t care about his anger or nastiness. He wasn’t any more satisfied with his steak when we made him a brand new one, but his display of ugliness deescalated a bit.

This is sort of a magic trick I’ve learned.

Recently, all up close and personal, I was criticized for not standing up for myself because ‘You have to fight fire with fire!”

Guess what? I didn’t care. About being criticized, I mean. And I didn’t ‘not care’ in an asshole way. I just kind of shrugged. “Eh, maybe.”

I’m sure after the exchange they pitied me an idiot.

But it did get me thinking. What AM I doing?

I try not to let my mind THINK real hard about stuff because then I end up caring about it too much and believe it or not, that makes me feel less compassionate. Weird, right?

But you can also mitigate fire by depriving it of oxygen. And that feels more resonant to me. I don’t fight fire with fire. I simply deprive it of oxygen.

Everything Is a Lot

I love popcorn. It’s literally my favorite. Like, desert island and stranded? Popcorn please. One of the most frustrating things about popcorn, in my experience anyway, is that whenever I try to grab a big old fistful, much of it ends up escaping my clutches by the time my hand reaches my mouth and I’m left with a (totally reasonable) few popped kernels. It’s like, the more I try to grab, the more I drop. And then I’m frustrating my enjoyment. Which is sorta silly and counterproductive.

There’s a lot of things right now.

I think I’m tired. But I’m also restless. But mostly I’m tired.

If you’re here because you’re into astrology, for your edification, my natal Mars is at 13 degrees of Taurus and so it is both in a conjunction with transiting Uranus and squaring transiting Saturn.

It’s like a FREEDOM, Karma, hard work, independence, action, exhaustion party. Woot!

I finally remembered this astrological event in my chart the other day which is amusing because when I started deep diving into astrology a few years ago it was to figure out why exactly my life was so shitty. These days I barely remember to look at my own chart. Ups and downs toss themselves around me and I’m fairly steady no matter where shit’s blowing.

But some stuff has come up recently and I yelled, “What in the actual fuck are you guys doing to me right now?” That’s how I talk to the planets. They’re my anthropomorphized teammates, and life is better. Sure, we fight sometimes, but in the end we have a purpose to fulfill. Like Hell’s Kitchen. Or something.

The second I dusted off my chart (metaphorically because it lives free of actual dust in the computer) I saw what I was in the middle of and it all made sense.

Sometimes the best way to describe what’s going on with me now is to describe something that has happened in the past.

I stumbled across my manifestation journal from a few years ago and read an entry where I was manifesting the perfect dude.

“Wears a cowboy hat, loves country music, supports my crazy spiritual shit, makes me laugh, is really hot, laughs during sex (not at me but with me)…”

The funny thing is Zeke and I had broken up when I wrote that list and I lived in another state and he was seeing someone else.

I actually don’t even really KNOW how we got back together. Or when. It wasn’t something we necessarily planned. I do believe that Covid is primarily responsible.

Once the pandemic hit I looked around and thought, “Wait. Nobody is looking. Like, nobody. What should I do?” Trusty old Larry piped up, “So what do you really want to do? While no one is watching? Hurry! Don’t think! Just do it!”

So I started driving back and forth between two states and getting back together with the guy I’d manifested in my journal.

I happen to think it’s really sweet that without even realizing it I’d described Zeke in my manifestation list of the perfect guy.

Also, it was so far outside the realm of possibility to me that we’d end up back together that it didn’t occur to me to get in the way of it by grubbying it up with my hands all over the process. Ha! This amuses me A LOT.

I sense things are lining up like that again and best I can do is move as I’m called and rest while I have time.

There are a lot of moving parts and I can barely keep up which I feel is the point. The Universe is moving quickly and I actually think I’m not supposed to ‘try’ to do anything at the moment, which I suck at frankly. ‘Trying’ is deeply ingrained. And I’m pretty sure the invisible assholes around me know this and are doing their best to keep me disoriented. Though they’d probably call it ‘in receptive mode’. Which is fair.

So I’ll be over here doing my best to mindfully ingest popcorn while watching my life lay out before me, one reasonable handful at a time. Because I don’t want to miss anything by trying to grab too much at once.