Leave The Chrysalis Alone


Leave The Chrysalis Alone
“I had tended to view waiting as mere passivity. When I looked it up in my dictionary, however, I found that the words passive and passion come from the same Latin root, pati, which means “to endure.” Waiting is thus both passive and passionate. It’s a vibrant, contemplative work. It means descending into self, into God, into the deeper labyrinths of prayer. It involves listening to disinherited voices within, facing the wounded holes in the soul, the denied and undiscovered, the places one lives false. It means struggling with the vision of who we really are in God and molding the courage to live that vision.”
~Sue Monk Kidd~

Sue Monk Kidd was on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday a couple of weeks ago. I’ve loved her for almost 25 years.
Her most famous book is “The Secret Life of Bees”, but I became familiar with her after reading her spiritual memoir “When The Heart Waits” in 1990. That was a time when not too many people were brave enough to write about their spiritual journey of transformation. My copy is water stained from reading in the bath, highlighted with a yellow marker, has my insights written in the margins and is dog eared almost beyond recognition. I ate it up with a spoon when she wrote that waiting for your purpose is a sacred endeavor. That waiting is not always passive. It can be a passageway from one way of being to another. She gave me permission to wait for the reveal.
These days, even more so than 25 years ago, waiting, being still, has gotten such a bad rap. Inactivity is THE cardinal sin of the 21st century.
She used the analogy of the caterpillar in the chrysalis. If you poke a hole to check on its progress, the butterfly’s wings will be underdeveloped, and it will be unable to fly.
Just let that one sink in……All the way down to your toes.

This quote from “When The Heart Waits” is one of my favorites.
I need to add it to the list.

“When the heart weeps for what it has lost, the Spirit laughs for what it has found” 

That makes my heart stop.

When Sue had her chat with O, she relayed an insight she had around 50. She realized she had been a seeker all of her 20′s, 30′s and 40′s. In that respect we are kindred souls. But recently she’d admonished herself. Enough seeking, she needed to “find” something. It was time to become A Finder.
That just about made my head explode. Now I get it.
That’s what happens in your 50′s. The energy you expended as a seeker is replaced with the energy of “finding” and sharing. You’ve sought, delved and explored. You’ve attend countless retreats, seminars, conferences and sweat lodges. You’ve discovered along the way you DID get some answers. You have found nuggets of truth. Things you KNOW FOR SURE. All your seeking has borne fruit. That fruit is deliciously ripe and ready to share.
It’s the reason I write this blog. 
I used to spend hour upon hour, day after day reading everything spiritual I could get my hands on. At one time I had over three hundred spiritual and self help books. I have given half of them away.
Now I spend hours writing what I’ve learned. I will always be on a journey of asking WHY. I’m hard wired for it. But I’m also hard wired to share anything and everything I know.
THAT is the payoff, the pay-it-forward of the seeker. We get to say: Hey, you wanna know what helped me? Have you read this or seen that?
I feel like in our second acts we are now Finders. Things start to make some sense. Not everything, I still can’t wrap my brain around vows of chastity and silence.
What I HAVE found is that I am much more willing to wait and see how things work out.
I’m not perfect, some days I still want to see the progress inside the chrysalis.
I am forever a work in progress. I will always be asking questions. But I’m embracing my inner Finder. She has a lot to share.

Tell me, what do you have to share? Also, Let me know about waiting. How comfortable are you with being passively passionate or passionately passive? Lol.



Heaven Is For Real, But Sometimes They Send You Back


Heaven Is For Real, But Sometimes They Send You Back

“Life is a dream walking. Death is going home.” – Chinese proverb

He died for a minute and 56 seconds. His heart stopped and his breathing ceased. I’d just say 2 minutes, but hospitals and doctors are exact. They are to-the-second precise. So, when he tells the tale; he died for a minute and 56 seconds, because four seconds more would be way too long.
Just writing this makes my eyes well up.
He…..is my husband.

In December of 2000 he contracted bacterial spinal meningitis on an airplane. Or as I now call them, flying, metallic, germ delivery systems.
He’s a car guy, often referred to as a gear head. That second week of December he took a one way flight from LA to Houston to look at a car, which he then purchased and drove back with a buddy.
Trouble was, he boarded that flight with a bad head cold. It was mid December, everyone’s sick with something around the holidays. Right?
As luck would have it, that was just the route an opportunistic virus used to infect him. The meningitis rode in, like a sinister villain in a spaghetti western, on the back of streptococcus pneumonia. Once the pneumonia chewed up his lungs, to the point where they resembled snowflakes, all the meningitis had to do was dismount, and stroll on in. Meningitis is a jerk. He’s a fragile, lazy, coward of a virus. If everything isn’t just so, he takes his badass self and leaves town. But pneumonia is efficient and the path had been prepared, so he set up camp in my husband’s lungs.
Three days after he got back to LA he felt pretty lousy as the pneumonia went about doing its dirty work. The meningitis was still lurking is the shadows.
He felt lethargic. By then he was probably running a fever, but men don’t check that stuff. He just got out of bed, showered and dressed. He had plans that night.
He had arranged a blind date with someone who was recommended by a friend’s girlfriend. She sounded intriguing. She had big boobs. Yep, he was just that shallow.
That someone was me.
The blind date story is epic and meant for another day. We got married nine months later, so I’m gonna say it went pretty well.

I’ve always been fascinated by near death experiences (NDE’s.) Now I live with someone who’s had one. It profoundly changed him, it set him free.

Two days after our first date, he drove the car up to San Jose, with his dog, to celebrate the Christmas holidays with his baby brother, his wife and their two young kids.
He was driving five hours to cook the Christmas bird. If a turkey is involved you drop everything and call my husband. He is the turkey whisperer. THE turkey cooker extraordinaire.
The next morning he did all the prep, in between long stints in bed. He was trashed, feeling sicker with each passing hour and had developed the headache from hell. Now, he figured, he had a hell of a bad flu bug.
I will remind you, my husband is a BIG guy. He’s 6’3″ 230lbs of big handsome, and that helped save his life.
When he makes a promise, he keeps it. It’s one of the things I admire about him, and damn it, he cooked that turkey. From his sick bed. He never had a bite.
The next day he got out of bed once……and collapsed. The paramedics were called and he was rushed to a local teaching hospital that was affiliated with Stanford.
During transport the paramedics called him Ralph. “Stay with us Ralph. Any pain Ralph?” My husband’s name is Raphael. They do that to piss you off and keep you conscious and talking. It worked. “My name is Raphael” he kept correcting them.
But it was short lived.
His brother told the doctor all he knew, that Raphael had complained of a terrible headache and the flu. He used to have migraines but this was different.
The ER was about to send him home with migraine meds, but his brother refused. He’d never seen Raphael that ill. HE really saved his brother’s life.
Just about that time it ceased to matter. His blood test came back with an astronomical white cell count, and he had gone into a coma.
Now suspecting meningitis, they did a spinal tap. Your spinal fluid is clear and under pressure. Normal is: 70 – 180 mm H20, his reading was over 400 and the fluid was thick and black like oil. It was right about this point in the evening where he flatlined. After they brought him back, they wrote TERMINAL on his chart, pumped him full of morphine and wheeled him into a room to die.

Raphael remembers an all white, foggy, environment, no walls, ceiling or floor. He could see all sides at once. The best thing was, he was out of pain, his head no longer hurt.
He was looking at three beds which contained three Raphaels.

The Raphael on the right was saying: I am suffering, why would I stay in this bed, I want to go where it’s peaceful. Where there’s no pain. Pointing at a bright white tunnel.
He represented the physical self.

The Raphael in the bed on the left said: Go ahead and go! Quit complaining. That’s fine, it really affects no one accept those that are left behind. He represented the intellectual self.

The Raphael in the middle was the observer. He just listened to the two others arguing. He just WAS. No attachment. He represented the soul.

That white tunnel was the path home. It was a silent, pain free, deliciously peaceful place where he wanted to stay forever.
But they started his heart and he came back.

That night a female doctor very much like Dr House from TV, took a look at his chart. She specialized in ONLY terminal cases. Since it was a teaching hospital, she was allowed to literally throw everything in her extensive medical arsenal at these patients, searching for a cure. It was equal parts medicine, alchemy, and wishful thinking. She did everything she could, then she just handed it over to a higher power. Her success rate was 3%. Calm down, they were terminal after all.
It was the fight of his life and he was on the ropes. At that point his size was the only thing saving him.

By that time the hospital had reported their diagnosis of bacterial meningitis to the CDC. Thirteen people from his flight to Houston had come down with it, four had died. Raphael’s brother was told to get his whole young family tested. It was a stressful, scary time.

I remember hearing it on the news. It struck me because one of the women who died was my age at the time, 43. Shit. I had to get on a plane in five days.

Since he was away, I had no idea he was even sick. We only had our one blind date, with a promise of a second on December 28th. He never showed. His cellphone went right to message. I left for New Years Eve in Miami. When I didn’t hear from him by the end of the first week of January I told my friends: He better be abducted by aliens or dead by the side of the road, because those are the only two excuses I’ll accept.
Yikes! We still laugh about that.

His medical file is as thick as a phone book with the lists of drugs and scans she administered that first night. There is even a straight jacket included. She did say he put up a hell of a fight to live. Apparently so.
By the middle of the second day of her treatment, he was slightly improved. He would live, but he’d be a vegetable from the cerebral fluid pressure and its horrible condition.
His brain could never recover from that.
His family, his siblings, who were all now at the hospital, looked at each other to determine who would care for him and for how many months.

A couple of days later, with the determined doctor holding one hand, one of his sisters, holding the other, he woke up……..Just like that.
The doctor shooed everyone out of the room, and started asking him questions, which he answered…perfectly….in detail. Not just: What’s your name, but since he’s an architect, and French, she quizzed him on the architectural intricacies of the Pompidou Centre, even speaking French with him. It was evident he could see her, he could hear her, and he was still his whip smart self. THAT she could never explain. She considered him a miracle. Honestly.
He finally asked what day it was. When he found out it was January, he said: I have to call Janet. For those standing around him, some doubt set in, because no one had heard of any Janet. They thought he had an imaginary friend. Uh oh, brain damage.
Nope, just infatuation. I love that part of the story. It’s like a movie.

He remembers dying as easy, with nothing to fear.
He recalls that he had a decision to make, and either way everything was going to be okay.
Afterword, all the outpouring of love, together with the morphine broke open his heart, and he was a changed man.
Luckily, he decided to stay……and give me a second date…..and for that, I am forever grateful.

Have you had an NDE? Tell me about your experience.
Has it removed your fear of death? I’d love to hear about it!



Very Interesting Times


Interesting Times
I just had to post this:


It’s well written, not too gloomy and I like the diagrams. I’m a visual person, what can I say?
Let this be my gift to you on how to navigate…….well…….the rest of April and May.
I haven’t always been a big believer in astrology. I can’t tell you how many times, when I was single, my horoscope predicted the appearance of my soul mate. They even gave me the dates that were conducive to love. I may have worn my frilly underwear those days. And……… Crickets.
Same with money. Oh yeah, tons of money was going to come my way. The stars were all aligned to make me a millionaire. That was 2007. I’m still waiting. So to me it’s always been a suggestion of what COULD happen.
But this feels different. Maybe I’m different. I can FEEL every aspect of this Grand Cross energy. Plus there’s been some solar flares thrown in for good measure, and you all know how I feel about those. I can see the fallout of it all around me. From relationships ending, to epic technology fails, to road rage and frayed tempers. Oh my!
So, here you go. This is the last mention of this stuff until…….I mention it again.
Stay grounded, walk in nature, barefoot in the grass, breathe, eat chocolate, sleep a lot and try to laugh. And I’ll try to take my own advise. Oh yeah, listen to that Bell Meditation from the other day. I’ve been literally walk around with earphones on and that meditation on repeat. Either that, or it’s playing in the house…..loudly. My dogs think we’ve moved to a Buddhist monastery. I swear it’s helping all of us.

What going on with you? I’d love to hear how you’re doing
Let me know in the comments below.



Happy Easter Sunday!

Have a great Sunday! Remember, don’t take things too seriously today, play well with others and when in doubt, smile.



The Answer To A Million Prayers


Give me a gong, a bell or a chant and I am ……GONE. This is a stunningly beautiful video that I’ve been using the last week to help me chill out, and stay out of my monkey mind. Loose yourself in the visuals or close your eyes and let the monk’s voice carry you away. It’s seven minutes, I know….make the time. Reminiscent of the words from the full moon meditation…..The answer to a million prayers.
Have a lovely weekend!


The Answer To A Thousand Prayers


Restoring Order In Chaos


Last week I wrote about revisiting past traumas for healing.


That’s been working out well. The puppy is her demon self again.

This week has been about revisiting chaos…and finding, or better yet, restoring order.
At least I’m trying. And to be fair I’ve succeeded in several endeavors.
One of them has NOT been this blog.
Holy shit on a cracker; the transfer of this blog to a different host, and the cosmetic changes were supposed to appear overnight, while most of us slept; like the Easter bunny. Sorry Thailand.
But they have not and for that I’m sorry. One email read: it was like my parents moved and forgot to tell me! Ouch. I am so sorry…….cupcake?
In hindsight, this was probably not the week to try this. Lesson learned.
Remember the post about just accepting “what is”?
Yeah…trying to practice what I preach.
Just bear with me, don’t jump ship and be a fair weather follower.

I am known for being pretty darn organized. Not like my sister organized, but close.
Martha Stewart kneels at my sister’s feet in deference.
There is a black file cabinet, in the back office that is in a perpetual state of organized chaos. You know, like that drawer in the kitchen.
There has been some denial disguised as paperwork, that has been screaming for my attention, and it finally received it this week. You know that sinking feeling as you walk by that shit? I’m determined to un-sink my life right now.
I blame this freaky energy.
Hot pink Post It’s are like 911, top priority, PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW, don’t keep walking; in my system.
One folder that has a big hot pink Post It on it, is labeled Domaine Names.
That folder is filthy dirty and all curled in on itself, like a dead spider, after being salvaged from the water of my store’s flood. On the outside of the folder, barely legible, are all the account passwords and the nuclear codes.
I have been receiving emails from Go Daddy about the domaine names expiring for weeks. Each one escalates its urgency. Large fees are mentioned, automatic renewal, blah, blah. I don’t want to renew. Go online, right? Trouble is; I can hardly read the passwords, and they don’t work.
This is going to require phone time. With an automated system. I’d rather have needles stuck in my eye, so I’ve just walked by it…for a looooong time. Today I called and after giving my social, my tax ID number, my SAT scores and my bra size, I was transferred directly to Tad. His condescension was only exceed by Jeffrey’s this morning at my Web hosting provider, so I’m used to it. It’s like breathing air to me now, just part of life. The painful experience was over in half a second, like eyebrow waxing; aided by the fact that the credit card on account had expired. Why didn’t they just say that in an email?
Another end to THAT story.
I’m going to make a ceremony out of shredding that file.
I do that in life with things that annoy me. When I no longer required birth control, I took my diaphram out in the backyard, poked tens of holes in it with a sparkler, and lit it on fire. We have pictures.

Literally half of the top drawer of that large file cabinet is devoted to stock accounts, or should I say PAST stock accounts. I was very active in the stock market in the 90′s and it helped me buy my house. Thankfully, I was out of the market before this latest crash. I get statements from ETrade every month, which I never open…but I file them, as I have since 1995.
What I did do in August of 2001 was to create a custodial account for my nephew, who was 5 at the time. I bought him a few shares of Disney and Krispy Kreme, kid’s stuff. A month later was 911 and I remember looking at a statement and the account had lost more than half it’s value.
The next time I opened a statement before yesterday was 2008 and it looked bleak.
So, I’d just file them away, unopened. Yesterday, walking back to the chaos of the abyss, it dawned on me that he’s about to turn 18 in two weeks. In California, at 18 he can legally take possession of that money. He’s also graduating high school, and off to college in the fall. I opened the statement and holy shit, there’s some real money in that account now. I got on the phone with Hank at ETrade (passwords were obsolete from lack of use) and they’re sending a check. I toyed with the idea of just transferring the account to him instead of a check, but….he’s 18. That’s the difference between getting a polite “Thank you” and a hug. I’m going for the hug. There was also a windfall of $15 left in one of the old stock accounts, so yipeeeee, I’m rich! Drinks all around!

The ending of both of those past experiences makes me SO freaking happy.
I can crumple up that hot pink Post It, shred that file and take great pleasure in putting another nail in the coffin of my dearly departed Atik.
And that little stock account that could? Hell, it actually produced some money and my brain cells fired to remind me, all at the perfect time.

It’s been a productive week so far.
How about you?
I’d love to hear some chaos restoring stories.
Is this energy pushing you to put things in order?
Tell me about it below.



The Lost Art Of Humility

imageThe Lost Art of Humility

I saw an interview recently of a young, huge hit maker, music industry mega star. I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. For the sake of this post I will call that malady: menopause brain. It is similar to pregnancy brain, or so I’m told. I used to have total recall, but since 50 that has gone the way of perky boobs and flat abs.

Here’s a funny or sad story, you decide. I was talking to a friend the other day, on my cell phone, while rifling frantically through my purse, looking for my cell phone. I told her I had to hang up and try to find my phone, so could she please call it so I see if I could hear it ring? There was just silence on the other end. I’m sure she was dialing 911 on her land line. When I realized what was happening, I laughed so hard I almost pee’d my pants. Ugh… I’m turning into my mother.

Anyway….this young guy displayed a trait you don’t see much of these days in the mega famous. Humility. It was so refreshing, it was like a glass of ice water in hell.
He was asked how he felt about all his success, and he said: I would not be here if it weren’t for the people around me.


The interviewer pressed on: Well, what about this great thing, or that great hit? That’s just talent, right?
The very humble star continued: I had a music teacher in middle school that saw something in me, if he hadn’t, who knows where I’d be. I wasn’t good in school, I would have fallen through the cracks.
I had a mom that believed I was special. If she hadn’t, I might still be back in Virginia, doing who knows what.
I had a mentor, a producer that took a chance on my first CD. It wasn’t successful, but it allowed me to learn. If I hadn’t had that experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Those people changed the trajectory of his life and he is forever grateful.
I fucking love that.
There are too many stars, too many successful people, that buy into their own hype. They start to forget how things began, how they evolved, and all the people and the steps it took to get to the top.
They have no desire to pay it forward. They pay tribute to no one. They are legends in their own minds, because everyone tells them they are. They are surrounded by “yes” men and women who are all on the payroll.
They can’t find the time to mentor; they’re too busy looking in the mirror.

We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
I’ll take it a step further. We are all CONNECTED.
As one person is raised up, we are all raised up.
Come on people, let’s all remember to look back and lend a hand.
To pay tribute to those that saw our potential, even when we couldn’t.
To affirm humility above bravado.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bravado when it’s earned, but for God’s sake, if you had a mentor; and you probably did; mentor someone in whom you see potential.
Pay it forward.

Success is tenuous and delicate. Don’t take it for granted.
I’ll say it again. We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
You know who they are. They give you the support, the confidence, the love, the big breaks. Give them some props man.

I had a music teacher, Ed Archer, who saw vocal potential. I had a sixth grade nun, Sister Mary Gabrielle, who instilled the love of learning and books. My mom said I could do anything, she was my mom so I believed her. My husband thinks I’m funny. He’s French and they think Jerry Lewis and the Three Stooges are funny and I don’t; but I’ll include him anyway. These are the ones that immediately come to mind, I know there are more. Stay tuned…

Tell me whatcha think. Who changed the trajectory of your life?
Who has been your biggest champion, believer, mentor?
Who saw/sees your potential?
I’d love to hear from you!



Whatever You Do, Don’t Hold Your Breath (Reprise)

Whatever You Do, Don't Hold Your Breath
*So..its been a very tech glitchy morning. Duh! Apparently anyone who follows this blog didn’t get the link to the meditation. After I ran around screaming and pulling my hair out, I remembered what I just wrote and made some corrections. Here”s the version I intended with the link. Listen,it’s worth it. xox

I went to the amazing Diana’s full moon meditation Monday night. The evening was warm and the wind chime’s tones were in concert with the blood moon energy.

During her lead up talk, Diana guided us: Just like when the teacher calls your name and you respond PRESENT…HERE…I AM HERE. Acknowledging in your heart that you are present now, for this, at this time.
And for some reason, that made several of us tear up. It touched my heart. It felt open and willing with a childlike innocence.
During the meditation, a soft, calming voice said to me:
My Darlings, this is the answer to a million prayers. Millions of you have prayed: What if the world could awaken overnight? This is the energy that will do it. Every plant, animal and human being on the planet will be touched and changed.
If you use the analogy of a tsunami, right now, all the water had been pulled off shore and out to sea. That is why so many are having a feeling of great anticipation. You sense something is coming. That big wave is coming in the next two weeks, and you will see a change.

Uh…holy cow, okay.
Maybe I have prayed that prayer after watching the latest endless newsfeed before bed. I am one of the millions.
It sometimes seems like a hopeless cause, this planet we inhabit.
After last night we all felt…hopeful.

This is a time of immense change, but change can be good. We need change right now.
We need the water to go out, and come back full of new life.
I know I do. I think you do too.
The energy the next two weeks is big. Like epic, kick some ass, change the world big. The astrological implications are ridiculous!
So…stay calm, carry on.
Don’t make any big decisions just yet.
Whatever you do, DONT RESIST ANYTHING. That will feel like shit. Just go with it.
Anger is resistance.
Fear is resistance.
Impatience is resistance.
Depression is resistance.
Separation is resistance.
Disappointment is resistance.
Loneliness is resistance.
Anxiety is resistance.
Desperation is resistance.
Resistance is not accepting WHAT IS.
Please, just accept it…for now.
And whatever you do, don’t hold your breath.

Here is a link to the Full Moon Meditation from Diana Lang (www.lifeworks.com)
If you don’t have the full half hour, the meditation starts at around 16 mins.

I’d love to hear feedback on any and all effects of this big full moon energy.
If you think someone could benefit from this post, pass it on!



Like A Room Without A Roof

Like A Room Without A Roof

“Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof.” (Because I’m happy)
That’s a lyric from the mondo hit “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. Which I sing…at the top of my lungs…in…my…car. Yep that’s me next to you on the 101 fwy. Deal with it, or better yet, sing along.

That’s my favorite lyric because it brings so many things to mind:
1) I freaking love to sing loudly in the car, with the sunroof open, with complete abandon. THAT makes me happy, AND it’s a car without a roof. Close enough.

2) It’s from the movie Despicable Me 2, which I LOVE. My husband IS Gru, ask anyone. Gruff exterior with a sweet, soft, gooey caramel inside.
I want a minion…badly. To speak their gibberish to me, make me laugh and carry out all my evil deeds.

3) I embrace the thought that happiness can be uncontainable. That you can have such moments of bliss that your energy is too big to hold together. I’ve talked about it before, I believe that when we are non-physical we are enormous, without limits. So, to be able to capture a moment here and there of that limitless feeling, through happiness…I’ll take it!

4) I had an experience with a shaman, back in the day, of remembering a past life as an initiate in ancient Egypt. In that life, I was a young girl, around 10-11 years old. In the Egyptian mystery schools they would put us through a series of initiations. I had lived in the Temple since I was a very small child. We were all intuitive and studied ancient spells and magic. If we passed our initiations, we would continue on to the next level. If we failed we …died. OUCH. Those damn Egyptians weren’t as freaked out by death as we are now. It was just the next adventure, so to them it was a win, win.
I was put in a ten foot by ten foot stone “room” with a dirt floor. The objective was to get out. I was given no food, no water, and no clues.
Once the stone door was closed the room was pitch black. Like blink your eyes, and they still don’t adjust, can’t see your own hand in front of your face black. I experienced great fear, with the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. For many, many hours I just laid balled up in a corner, after halfheartedly feeling my way around. It felt like all hope was lost. I felt for a way to open the door, but I couldn’t fit my tiny fingers into the seams where it met the wall, they were that tight. I don’t remember the ancient Egyptian word for “I’m screwed”, but I’m sure I was saying it over and over in my head. I gave up, forgot my magic and slept a lot.
After what seemed like a couple of days, I got a sudden spike of determination and courage. A second wind. Really it was a first wind and was like a lightbulb went off over my head…almost literally. It felt like I could “see” the solution in my mind’s eye.
I crawled along, feeling every inch of the floor for a trap door. Nothing. I felt the cold stone walls for any clue of a lever, or a latch. Nothing. In a moment of despair, I laid flat on my back looking up into the darkness.
“Help me” I whispered.
What about the ceiling?
Now, with a different objective in mind, I felt the walls for a place to hold onto in order to make the climb up. After hours of running my forearms up and down the walls, I felt small bits of stone protruding. It was not an easy climb, even for a 10 year old spider monkey, and I still couldn’t see a thing, but the ceiling wasn’t that high, maybe 8-9 feet. As I strained to push my open hand against it….it moved. It was a fairly lightweight panel that with a good shove could be moved up and open to freedom. A room without a roof.
You wanna know what happened next? Nothing. There was no one there to say good job, or care that I made it out alive. That was the nature of the game.
I walked toward a faint light in the distance to look for water and something to eat. It hurt my eyes.

So…a room without a roof.
I try to remember that experience, when I think my back is up against the wall, with diminishing options.
Think outside the box. Look up. People never think to look up.
You may be in a room without a roof. Climb out.

What does “room without a roof” mean to you? Do you share my passion for singing in the car? Come on! Fess up in the comments below.



The Right Moment

The Right Moment

You might be waiting for things to settle down. For the kids to be old enough, for work to calm down, for the economy to recover, for the weather to cooperate, for your bad back to let up just a little…
The thing is, people who make a difference never wait for just the right time. They know that it will never arrive.
Instead, they make their ruckus when they are short of sleep, out of money, hungry, in the middle of a domestic mess and during a blizzard. Whenever.
As long as whenever is now.
~Seth Godin~

One woman's sassy, messy, journey through life

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