spiritual

There’s a lot in the media lately around the subject of loneliness, and it got me to thinking: When in my life have I felt real loneliness?

Not to be confused with spending Saturday night without a date.
That is an appointment with Ben and Jerry’s and “The Way We Were.”

Loneliness is so much bigger, darker and deeper than that.

By definition loneliness is a feeling of isolation, of feeling alone and separate.

I’ll talk about my friend’s loneliness first…because I felt such empathy for her, I can still feel it today.

I’ve known TT since high school. We became fast friends the first day of ninth grade, when I told her I thought she was beautiful. I know, great opening line! Right?
But she is and I really meant it.

In the late 80’s, she married Andy ( I love him too, truly; I used him as my husband template for years, but that’s another story).

They moved to Santa Barbara to do their post grad studies, and since I live in LA, I drove up every other weekend. We nicknamed it a JJ (Janet jaunt).
They lived on campus, had a huge circle of friends, and since everyone was financing their tuition cooking in restaurants, we ate incredibly well, and since they were all so smart, the conversation wasn’t bad either. A few years in, TT had a baby. I was in the room, again, another story for another day.

Let me just say…A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!

Three months later they moved lock, stock and baby to Italy.

To Trento, for an actual paying research gig at the University there, were Andy could move further toward his doctorate.
Neither spoke Italian, so communication was…interesting, and after they got there, it was revealed that the money would be paid at the end of their 9 month stay. So, in about a month, they were stone broke.

Since Andy was at the University all day, TT was left at their small apartment, or to her own devices. The first few weeks of enthusiastic exploring, turned into aimless walks around a foreign town, where, even when she eavesdropped on other people’s conversations, she could only make out a couple of words.

I’ve been there, it’s like you’re invisible, and she really was!
All the Italian women saw was “Bambina”! Except, they couldn’t tell her what to get for the diaper rash, or the teething, or share her frustration about the fact that the hot water literally shut off at 9pm…in the whole town!

I could feel her deep isolation and sadness come right through the paper of her letters and faxes. I swear, there were tear stains. My vibrant, beautiful, friend was dying of loneliness, and it made my heart actually HURT.
So…I gathered the troupes, and one by one, we staggered our JJ’s throughout that summer and fall, so she wasn’t alone as she learned how to be a mom in a small medieval town in northern Italy.

I have felt the MOST profound loneliness on two separate occasions in my life, and they both caused me great sadness, even despair. I’m sure there were more, I’m 55 for God’s sake, but these two have burned their memory into my brain, so as not to be forgotten.

One was in my first marriage.
I was about 23, way too young to be married, and I remember lying next to my husband and trying to identify this deep pit in my stomach. It was like a dull ache. I can remember the night it finally hit me: Shit. I married the wrong person, because he’s right here and I’m lonely as hell.
Great! Now what? I smoked a joint, ate a box of cookies and suffered months of anxiety attacks. Then I filed for divorce.

The second one that just about killed me, was when my store was dying.

Many a day toward the end it was “crickets”. By that I mean, days of no phone calls, no deliveries, no people coming in at all! I am WAY too social for that kind of day-to-day isolation. I NEED to talk to people to live, it’s like breathing to me!
Often when I got home at night, I realized I hadn’t spoken a single word THE ENTIRE DAY!
I had never felt loneliness so deep. I would watch people walking to their cars and I wanted to yell out, “Hello, I’m in here, come talk to me!”

I just knew somehow, in my gut, that if something didn’t happen fast, the loneliness would start to affect my health. There have been recent studies that back that up.
Luckily, the flood came, and saved my life!

Oprah has recently started a new campaign to help alleviate social isolation, and potentially some loneliness. “Just say Hello” It’s a simple greeting, but it’s power is profound.
What it is, is a connection, and that connection can help someone feel less isolated, not as solitary in the world.

Let’s smile and say Hello to everyone, to strangers, we could make someone’s day.
It would have made mine!

XoxJanet

Here is my disclaimer right up front: This is a story about a very shallow girl…me, and how a list, a good friend, and some abracadabra, helped me manifest my true love.

At the point where my story begins, it’s the year 1999 and I have known Wes for about five years. We first met at the channeling group of a mutual friend.

Let me stop right here.
Wes is drop-dead gorgeous! He is a 6’3″ tall, dark, handsome, drink of water. When I first saw him at this friend’s house, I thought to myself: Okay, Spiritual practice, now you’re talkin’, because, up until that moment it had mostly been women that showed up for these things or men who still lived with their mothers.

He and I made goo-goo eyes at each other and tried not to burst out laughing at some of the questions that were asked. I know – Not my proudest moment.

We thought EVERYTHING was hilarious.
Wes is very chill about all this spiritual stuff. He doesn’t take any of it too seriously, which I love, and we had a lot in common. We had read all the same books, had a very similar spiritual practice, had the same twisted, warped sense of humor…and both loved men.

Sad, but true.
So, I was the Grace to his Will.
We loved each other madly, with no extra benefits.

After the crash and burn of yet another one of my romantic relationships, instead of saying, “I told you so” Wes suggested going to our channel friend for a session with just the two of us. He was also newly single at the time and felt we could get some good one-on-one advice, without other people asking if their dead Aunt was speaking to them through their cat.

At this session “they” suggested we each make a list of the attributes our beloved should possess, after which we should meet and give that list to the other, for them to use as kind of “manifestation template.”

Before I go on, I want to add this little side note:
I thought it would be a good idea at the time to take all of my ex’s cards, pictures, etc. and burn them. I would then scatter the ashes to the wind, giving the Universe a smoke signal that there was now a boyfriend void to fill.

With my right shoulder cradling the phone, I took Wes outside with me, along with my box of memories and a lighter. It was about 8 p.m., cold and dark and lightly drizzling, which I thought was a good sign.
I put everything on a large stone in the middle of my wet patio and lit it up. After a couple of minutes, there was a good little fire going, and I watched our smiling faces and birthday cards filled with his once loving words, melt before my eyes. Trouble was, a significant breeze had picked up and started swirling a small tornado of embers all around me! I was screaming and trying to get away, but the lost love delivery system, disguised as burning paper, was in my hair, my face, and my mouth and burning tiny holes in my flannel nightgown. All the while, Wes laughed hysterically into my ear!

So…
We met at an Italian restaurant, and armed with a bottle of Chianti courage, we exchanged our Relationship Lists and decided to read each other’s out loud, to gain clarity.
Big mistake…Huge.

He read mine first:
Affectionate…okay
Passionate….yep
Funny….critical
Loves sex….um…
Loves my cats….he glanced up at me and winced
Loves a lot of sex….gulp
Snappy dresser…..really?
Enormously wealthy…Shallow, I warned you!
Blah, blah, blah.

Hearing them out loud was literally painful. My face was on fire with humiliation.
Wes was laughing so hard he had to hold a napkin to his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

Then it was my turn to read his list:
Concerned about the planet…okay.
Philanthropic…of course
Self confidant…uh huh
Belief in a higher power…shit!
Nurturing…I want that!
Concern for my well being…give me my F*cking list back!

My light and funny friend surprised me, his list was seriously great! It was honest and deep and full of heart.

Mine was crap. Where’s a candle? It NEEDED to catch fire!
I was lunging across the table, trying to grab my ridiculously shallow list back, but he put it in his pocket and kept it.

And then, my magical, mystical, friend manifested the perfect man for me.
In a year.

That is the actual list above…I have no pride.
Wes found it in a box during a recent move, framed it, and gave it to me for my birthday last year.

I have yet to manifest a significant other for him….have you seen his standards?!
Xox

*I wrote this a while ago, waiting for the time to post it. The memories should start to be getting fuzzy after twenty years, but on the contrary, they are crystal clear. Still, I’m glad to be finally writing them down.
I decided to post this, because yesterday Dr. Lisa Rankin (whose work I love) wrote about her recent spiritual awakening on her Facebook page. She is still processing it, and had the courage to share it, feeling that there are more of us out here that can help each other. Everyone’s awakening looks different. This is mine.
If you want to hear the rest, let me know.
XoxJ

We Have An Agreement Part I

Almost exactly 20 years ago, I went a little crazy.
Even more than I already am.
Well, not actually, but you could have fooled me.
A wise friend smiled and told me I was insane = in sanity.
What?
If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck….just sayin’

It all started with meditation.
This is not a cautionary tale, it is a historical account.
Don’t get your panties in a bunch!
I’m not saying meditation drives everyone crazy, it just felt that way to ME.
(Legal disclaimer…I think) 

I had always sucked at meditation. Yet, I studied it for years.
I even had a Meditation Master who gave me a mantra when I was about 19.
I just couldn’t calm my monkey mind.
I would ponder what I was going to have for dinner, or what song that was that I could hear faintly playing in the distance, or why my nose was constantly itching, and my leg was falling asleep.

Time. stood. still.

Shit! An hour and a half seemed more like two weeks!

I could never reach that place of inner peace and transcendence that I had heard and read so much about. It was like the donkey and the carrot, always just out of reach.

But man I gave it my all…for many years.
I decided to stop for a while, worn out by the struggle.

Then there I was 35, when I suddenly got the urge to start again. I was able to ignore it for a while, but it kinda turned into marching orders and I was compelled to oblige.
THAT should have been a preview of coming events.

So every night at 9 p.m. I sat down to meditate. And what transpired was not at all what I expected and pretty mystical.
Now bear in mind I lived alone, thank God.

Not only was I able to calm the monkey mind, I started to leave my body and “observe” it from above.
Sometimes, I could see myself all fallen over into my own lap, (which is frowned upon in meditation class, it’s all about the straight spine.)

Other times I was siting and spontaneously rotating counter-clockwise from the waist up in a slow circular motion.

Twice I did this hysterical laughing, that took turns with hysterical sobbing…which I “observed” from above.

I kid you not.

Often I smelled incense, when I wasn’t burning any…or roses.
My lips, face and hands would tingle and vibrate.
Not only that, 45 minutes would go by like that (snap)

Just disappear.

Where had THAT been hiding years ago? I coulda been a superstar in class.

After about three months, I started to notice that all the clocks in my house, wind up, digital, even the clock on the VCR ( which I had set on the correct time, thank you very much, it’s called reading the directions, people.) it didn’t matter, even my quartz watch, they were all off by 45 minutes.
They were 45 minutes BEHIND my starting time after I came out of meditation!
Now keep in mind this was the early 90’s when people still looked to clocks and not their phones to tell time.

Anyway, that made me late for everything AND it freaked me out.

This was the dark ages, before cell phones and Facebook and most importantly,Google.

I couldn’t look any of this phenomena up, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea what was happening to me.
Spiritual and mystical topics were not on TV or a part of popular culture like they are now.
There was the Bodhi Tree bookstore here in LA, a kind of spiritual Mecca, where I held everyone in high regard,(don’t ask me why) so I went and whispered to some guy who smelled like patchouli, what was happening, and he just shook his head and handed me a small crystal for protection.

Some protection.
The following night as I start to meditate, (now, aren’t you thinking to yourself, why is she still doing that?…I am!) I heard this deep booming voice say “We have an agreement”
Well… My eyes flew open, I jumped up, protective crystal flying under the bed, and I started to run around the room.

Seriously…like a chicken.

Then I hear it again, this time in my living room “We have an agreement”
Uh oh, I’m gonna pee my pants AND what can of worms have I unwittingly opened?

Now I’m getting scared.
Okay, intrigued and scared. I needed some answers.

Note to self: stop meditating.

But I can’t, I’m compelled to continue…until things start to really get weird.
(to be continued)

Xox

ADORE
a·dore
əˈdôr/
verb
1. love and respect (someone) deeply.
synonyms: love dearly, love, be devoted to, dote on, hold dear, cherish, treasure, prize, think the world of.

My life changed forever when, as a 40 something woman looking for a prospective mate, I had the audacity to declare ” I want to be adored”

I told all my friends, and as they nodded and smiled their faux-supportive smiles I could see in their eyes, “Yeah, good luck with that”.

This new realization had hit me as a supreme and long overdue “Ah Ha” moment
after yet another 4+ year relationship crashed and burned.

Following my divorce at 25, I had actually fallen in love more than once, and as the years marched on, so did the list of dates, lovers, and boyfriends.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining they were all great guys. Some were younger than me, others were my age; some were artistic and wildly creative; others cerebral, funny and loving. (Are you feeling sorry for me yet? Yeah, don’t. Not yet. Wait for it.)

They were all very different, not at all alike.
The only commonality they all shared was how they ended our relationship.
The words that I heard at the end were always the same:
“You’re amazing, I’m just not ready”.
You’re the best girlfriend I could imagine”.
“Some lucky guy is going to grab you. Just not me.”
” I should probably never leave you, I’m sure I’ll regret this”
But…

Then they all walked away.
Some of them ran. One took a jet.

When the last one left I was around forty years old. (Which everyone knows is  too old to be dumped by  boyfriend.)  I could see that I had to change my relationship recipe if I wanted love to last. There was an ingredient missing. One component with the shelf-life of warm chocolate cake. By the time I even got a whiff of it—it was gone. Which explains why it took me awhile to come up with the word. And when I did, it was audacious.
I wanted to be adored!
Cherished, respected, treasured, thought the world of, and dearly loved!

I knew guys were capable of it, I had seen it in their faces when I suggested throwing away a favorite old flannel shirt, or their college baseball jersey.
They would grab it away and hug it close, eyes filled with…adoration.
I wanted the next man’s face to reflect that look back…to ME!

It was no longer acceptable to me to be so easily disposable.
I realized I was more like the stuff in the box that goes to Goodwill.
Easily Forgettable.

Fuck that!
I wanted to be the flannel shirt!
Instead of jetting out of my life I wanted to hear, “Out of the question, she stays! I would rather lose a limb than be without her!”

It takes a special man to adore a woman.
He has to have overcome his own broken heart enough to recognize your awesomeness, been vaccinated against that fear of commitment bug  in order to let his guard down, and then YOU  have to be willing to do the same.

The payoff for that level of vulnerability will be the look in his eyes.

The reason I’m sharing this is that it is possible. For me it became essential.
And after that realization, the audaciousness paid off.  I found it, and you can too.

Everyone has the right to feel cherished and treasured and held dear!
You just have to have the audacity to ask for it.

Now, adoration is pretty heady stuff, so your next task it to make sure you are someone who is capable of accepting it. I know who you are so I’m not worried.

Seeking adoration doesn’t happen overnight, but you can start now.
Xox Janet

This is from a fellow beautiful blogger and I just LOVE it! Great way to start the New Year, even though we’re 10 days in.
I can’t wait to go talk and release to the rocks!
XoxJanet

Become freehearted.

In an interview he did in 2007, Peter O’Toole, that beautiful, blue eyed, scalawag actor, was asked the question, “What do you want written on your tombstone”?

He leaned back and told the story of his beloved tattered leather jacket.
He said it was soaked in sweat, covered in blood, Guinness and cornflakes?!
Which of course made it his favorite.
Eventually it went to the cleaners.
It came back with a note pinned to it, that all these years later still made him chuckle.
It read:

“It distresses us to return work which is not perfect”

That’s was his answer, and I couldn’t agree more!
Because otherwise, what’s the point!?

When I leave this mortal coil, I want to be “distressed.”
I want to show I’ve lived.
That perhaps it wasn’t a pure and “perfect” life, but dammit! It was a life well lived!

Just like his jacket, I want to be worn in, with the wrinkles and scars to prove it.
I want to be covered in sweat, and dog hair, with smeared lipstick and wine stains.
…Maybe even cornflakes!

I want unpaid parking tickets in the pockets.
Along with a motorcycle key and a wad of foreign currency.

I want the leather to smell like a combination of caramel,tobacco, Shalimar, and coffee,
I want it left on the back of a chair in George Clooney’s suite in a Paris Hotel.

I want to remain perfectly imperfect.

Then I want to be “returned to sender, postage due.”

How about you?
Xox

I had a dream last night about being a snowflake.
I was with all the other snowflakes, waiting in line to fall to earth.

It was very noisy, because us snowflakes are a chatty bunch.
We have to get it all out before we jump. 
All the gossip the complaining and the bad snowflake jokes,(they are the worst), because after we leave the cloud, we are required to remain silent.

Everyone is laughing, chewing gum and eating Red Vines, as snowflakes do, man! there’s a lot of excitement in the air.

What I can remember the most, is looking around and admiring,
well, really, I was envious of everyone else’s design.
There was such a display of individuality that it blew my little snowflake mind!

Every flake seemed to be showing their best crystals.
One was really pointed, great right angles, and deep cuts.
Another had more rounded edges, with huge cut out sections.
(Someone had obviously run with scissors)!

But what I noticed above all was that the design was a perfect match to their personality.

The outside totally matched what was inside.

What strikes me now, as I’m thinking about it, was that I was unable to see MY design. I was unable to myself.
There are apparently no full length mirrors at that point in line.

As I looked for a shiny surface, so I could catch my reflection; I began to notice I was being looked at with the same degree of admiration by the other flakes – but of course, even though I had no idea what they saw, I liked THEIR designs better than my own.

I wanted to go back to the “snowflake drawing board” and just make a couple of revisions. I was inspired. No one told me we could make a nip there, or a tuck there.

I had no idea we could be as bold as what I was observing around me.

As I got closer to the front of the line, I suddenly had this realization:

I WAS special,
I had done this many times,
I had fallen as rain,
I had pelted the earth as hail and sleet,
But now, HA!! 
Now I got to be a snowflake!
One of a kind,
Sparkling, crystalline, and magnificent!

All of the sudden things began to hush, we all became more present and very serious. We all ditched our gum under a table, gave each other big hugs, making sure not to smear our sparkles, and with a minimum of fanfare, but filled with great pride,

…We jumped. Look for me!

Merry Christmas Loves,

Xox

There come times in our lives when things suddenly change.
They go south,
The wheels fall off the cart.

But instead of becoming panicky—use your art of negotiation!

Children are masters at this.
Watch, listen and learn.
They will negotiate everything from bedtime, computer time, to eating kale.

No subject is off-limits.
If they think they can sway the situation to their advantage, high level diplomatic talks begin.

My friend calls her son Henry Kissinger.
In his world EVERYTHING is open for negotiation.
As much as this irks her, she also admires it.
He’s gotten so good, that sometimes she doesn’t realize until later, that he worked her.

No isn’t always no, it’s a very firm maybe.

Why do we lose that skill as adults?
We kinda take things at face value,
Everything’s a done deal.

If done correctly, negotiating things in life could have a ripple effect.
Using our imaginations to offer an eyelash to the tooth fairy,
so to speak, could inspire others to have that same cleverness when
things appear to go wrong, and THAT’S a world I’d like to live in!
Xox Janet

Realization number three in my ongoing unraveling brought on by this 5000 miles in 17 days motorcycle trip!

Really!? MORE?

Yep, it has become the gift that keeps on giving.

It feels like shit at times, but it really is a gift.

Some of you have heard the story of our close call on the plains of Montana and some of you have not.
For those that have…go make yourself a sandwich while I re-tell it.

So…plains of Montana, trying to out run a giant storm that is quickly bearing down on us.
Two squalls of rain ahead, with a space in-between.
My husband yells back at me over the rumbling thunder, “We’re gonna thread the needle”, meaning, try to make it between the squalls.
We are traveling on a two lane highway at 85 mph.

Now I digress, for those of you from the mid west, you are familiar with these storms.
They are an anomaly to me.

I’m from SoCal, when it drizzles there, we go on “Storm Watch”.

There’s immediate and unbelievably loud thunder that accompanies the lightning – ground lightening (what the hell?)

Then there’s rain. heavy, heavy, rain. Giant wet drops the size of quarters.
One minute it’s dry, the next it’s like someone turned a fire hose on us.

Seriously.

And hail.
Machines that rely on the centrifugal force of two six-inch wide spinning rubber discs, don’t play well with hail. Things get real squirrely. It’s like someone upstairs has thrown slippery, wet, marbles on the road in front of you and is having a laugh while you try to stay upright.

As luck would have it, the eye of the needle closes, and the squall moves over us.
Rain so heavy, I can’t see out my visor…at all…even when my hand becomes a windshield wiper.
All I CAN see are the blurry headlights of the cars in the opposite lane.

I digress once again.
Let me explain something here.
My husband is a giant guy.
6’3″. 230 lbs
My seat is a bit higher than his, so I mostly look over his right shoulder.
He does buffer most of the weather and wind, but he also obscures my view of what is directly ahead of us.

Let me also say he is an AMAZING rider.
Over 40 years of riding, he teaches off-road riding with 600 pounds of bike and gear, rides all over the world with me on the back.
Has followed the DAKAR in So America twice, and rode thru
South Africa and the Namibian desert just this year.
He’s not a poser, that weekend rider on a Harley.
He is a certified bad ass.

It is his passion, he is very skilled, and I trust him. 

Okay, back to Montana.
Rain, wind, and as I am straining to see anything.
What I do notice are headlights…in our lane.
A car is passing in the on coming lane, at over 60 m.p.h in a torrential rainstorm.
I tap hubby’s shoulder and point. Are you seeing that?

He nods slowly, staring straight ahead, no break in concentration.

Thank God!
Because what comes next is where I lose my shit.

After that car completes his pass, right behind him, also passing and in our lane, is a pickup truck with a trailer.
There is not enough time or space now for him to pass safely.
He is in our lane, coming at us at 60 m.p.h. – in the rain!

Total loss of control

I’ve never thought I was about to die before.
This is where the screaming came in.
This is where ten thousand bazillion thoughts go through your mind in one second, and the entire scene goes into slow motion.
And this is where another realization came and tapped me on the shoulder.
“NOT NOW! CAN’T YOU SEE IM BUSY!”

I’m standing straight up on the pegs now, which you don’t do, because it destabilizes the whole arrangement we’ve all made, me, my husband, the weather and the bike, and all bets are off.
I’m screaming hysterically,my slasher movie scream, knowing I’m about to become a splat on the windshield of some jerks truck – in the middle of Montana.

I have NO idea how to get out of this!
But my husband does.
I can’t see an escape route, a way out.
He can.
I can’t contain my hysteria, because I’m totally and completely NOT in control

Of-My-Fate.

I’ m going to jump off on the right into a culvert and barbed wire, to try save myself.

It actually seems at the time like a better bet.

My husband, from years of experience, training, skill and guts,
remains completely calm.
Steady and still.

I can’t see from the rain, the speed, and the incredible turbulence as my husband goes around the truck and trailer on the right, on a sliver of asphalt that remains.

I continue screaming as I position myself to jump.
The right side of my body in motion, the left side decides to stay.
We slip beside him with less than two feet to spare.
The turbulence knocks our left hand mirror down, and buffets us for what seems like forever.

Total loss of control

The realization I’ve had is this:
In life, when we don’t have clarity,
Sometimes we’re barreling towards uncertainty,
When we don’t have the facts,
When we can’t see our way clear,
We panic and make decisions based in fear.

We can swerve or slam on the brakes on a slippery surface.

Most likely, to our detriment.

If we surrender to the part of us that does know,
That does have the wisdom, the skill and the steadiness to bring us thru the storm, we may give up control, which is terrifying, but it enables us to come out unscathed on the other side.

*side note
My body is still jacked up, because in every way except the physical
I DID jump off that bike.
The left side which stayed, is in so much pain,
The right side is fine.

I have yet to integrate the two.

Xox

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.”~ Henry David Thoreau

You frequently hear the saying: Make your dream a reality.

But let’s flip it around, shall we?

You often hear someone who has accomplished something monumental say
“This feels like a dream”
or
“This is more than I could have ever dreamed of”.

That happens when the Universe takes a desire and runs with it!

When you put something out there and then you only feed it with feelings of accomplishment,
you feel assured that it will come to pass.

Like the athlete who after practice envisions crossing the finish line first, over and over and over again.

How about the actor who feels so prepared, so perfect for a part that he is relaxed and confident at the audition?

They know what they want and they stay out of their own way! Their reality then reinforces this by giving them feedback that they’re on the right track.

The athlete starts winning all his competitions,
The actor gets his parts.

This is where it gets interesting.
Even when things “seem” to go awry, we are being guided to our dreams.

The Universe now has taken the reins and is running the show.

When you can take these detours in stride and maintain your resolve by not getting discouraged;
not listen to the negative voices—both internal and external,
THAT is when…

The athlete gets the last place on the team to the Olympics and WINS  A MEDAL!
The actor gets not the lead, but a supporting role and then wins an Academy Award!

Their achievements surpass even their wildest dreams!

And THAT ladies and gentlemen is making your reality a dream.