writing

I love me some Mary Barra. She is the CEO of General Motors, and right now they are in some pretty hot water over the handling of an ignition switch recall. People were injured and some died from these faulty parts. At the time, 2004-2008, GM was in serious financial trouble, and we, the tax payer, bailed them out in 2008.
They are now the new and improved General Motors, with Mary Barra coming in as CEO in January 2014
Now, I don’t usually have all these dates and details at my finger tips, I was just stuck in traffic, and heard the story today on the radio. It’s still me, don’t be alarmed.

Here’s why I love Mary Barra. She said “I am deeply sorry.”

“Today’s GM will do the right thing,” she said. “That begins with my sincere apologies to everyone who has been affected by this recall — especially to the families and friends of those who lost their lives or were injured. I am deeply sorry.”

No one from GM has offered anything close to an apology up until today.
What? Why?
Lawsuits, no admission of guilt, blah, blah, blah.
Say you’re sorry damn it!

You get a lot of mileage from saying “I’m sorry.”
To someone who’s lost a loved one it isn’t enough; but it is a start.
It shows compassion. Corporations generally haven’t shown empathy or compassion, because they aren’t human. But they’re comprised of human beings, so where’s the disconnect?

What is the human resistance to apologizing?
In your life does saying “I’m sorry” signal weakness?
I think it signals strength. Like bad ass Ninja warrior strength; because it’s hard to say.
Something happened. Shit went down. Feelings got hurt. You played a part.
“I’m sorry.”

Just those two-word can defuse SO much energy.
Have you ever tried to continue your rage rant when someone has just offered you a sincere apology? You can’t. Well, you can, but you’ll feel like a real bitch. Then the tables are turned.

If it’s insincere, there’s nothing worse and it doesn’t count.
Get mad. Lawyer up. Show no mercy.
But if it’s heartfelt….it starts the healing…or the conversation…or the hot make up sex.

I’ve said it when I’ve been wrong, and I’ve had it said to me, and I gotta tell ya, it’s magic. It’s like water on a fire.
You feel heard and understood.
So next time your back’s up against the wall, and you’ve messed up,
just say you’re sorry, and mean it, you Ninja warrior, you.
It’ll feel good; I promise.

Xox

Do you say your sorry when your wrong? Do you accept it when it’s said to you?
Agree or disagree?
Start the conversation in the comments below.

*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

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

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