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  • Punctuate the day!

    What I discovered yesterday is that everyone has to do some things every day that would be labeled work, some we get paid for and some we just do so we can eat or have clean clothes.

     

    It isn’t about what we do, but our attitude doing it.

     

    My freedom comes in what kind of mail lady will I be.  I bring me and I bring with me an attitude.

     

    I feel I have much power over my attitude, or at least the power of acceptance and being present with whatever appears.

     

    It is much easier to live that way then to be in one place wishing you were in another.

     

    Being a stay at home mom, there were tasks that I didn’t enjoy and lately find myself wanting to do less and less of the household jobs, so maybe working outside of the home will erase them from my job list.

     

    It almost feels like I am graduating again, that a new part of my life is opening up and I get to do something new. 

     

    In Elizabeth Lesser’s book “Broken Open” she discusses how she had to change the kind of mom she was when her kids left home and became young adults.  I understand that.

     

    That there is a time when the job ends, when it’s no longer required, and we have to change.

     

    As our lives change we change, we flow and bend as it does.  If we don’t then we will be hanging on when we should be letting go, refusing to bend we will snap.

    The more I am a working girl, the more the household chores are shared, bringing the kids into that extra part of life, the part that has no pay, but needs to be done anyway.

     

    When I am out each day, it evens up the playing field, I became one of them, I too am gone all day, and we all come home wishing there was a mom there cooking, cleaning and getting our clothes washed.

     

    It becomes a tag team effort, we each do some of each job and the job gets done. 

     

    This has been a great opportunity to get a preview of what it would be like if I worked full time.  The part I haven’t brought in was the Art expression.  I let most of that go.  I wasn’t able to maintain creating while working 6 days a week.

     

    It is up to me to carve out space, to block out time that is just for me, it is my responsibility to be creative, it will not just leap at me.

     

    After today I have two days in a row off, I will decide how I spend them! 

     

    We are the ones spending our life.  Imagine that, we are spending, we are taking our lives and using it, we are the ones who decide how will I spend my day, my free hours, and my time.

     

    With free will we decide how to spend our lives, how we either abuse or disuse so much time, like there is an unlimited amount there.

     

    We don’t need to hoard it, but neither do we need to toss it aside, instead we should be aware of the generosity that is laid out for us each day.

     

    Our time stretches out each day, and we can either place well-enjoyed moments, or flop down angry attitudes, we layout our lives, moment by moment.

     

    We decide what we lay down each day.

     

    See it like a patchwork quilt, and each hour is connected to the next, what will your quilt look like at the end of the day, how much contrast, how much texture is laid out?

     

    Even on my working days, I should add just a smidgeon of color, of wild enjoyment, even if it is just a hour, it will punctuate the day.

     

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  • Inspired to move!

    I think it is possible to work too much.  That if you spend 10 hours a day doing work to get money that is way too much.

     

    Maybe because it is work, not something that I love to do.

     

    The work is work, and I can do it, but it seems that the mail in my hand is making me turn this way and that way to find the slot.  And once I get in the car, the mail in my hand leads the way again.

     

    It seems that I am just riding along behind the mail, and that the mail doesn’t see me at, or cares!

     

    I work for the mail, period, we have no relationship or communication, It has a destination printed on it, and I follow or am directed by It. 

     

    I feel like a puppet on an invisible string.  There is very little space for us to deviate, unless we miss-deliver, which I have been known to do. 

     

    I have been doing this work almost nonstop, well 6 out of 7 days a week, it seems insane at best to move this way.

     

    My neck, shoulder, upper back is sore and stiff from all the similar movements, repeating and repeating, robot like.

     

    No wonder the postal employees go postal, it is from being led around and twisted around in a way that leaves no room or choice for freedom.

     

    We have no choice but to follow, follow, and follow.

     

    This is about as opposite as you can get from being an Artist, this is like connect the dots or color by number.

    I am not sure what would happen to my spirit if I had to do this 6 days a week for really really long periods of time.

     

    I felt it yesterday really consciously, that we are simply the puppet that delivers.  We come to work, pick up a letter and then twist or reach to put in a slot, get the next one and turn a different way and repeat this for a few hours.

     

    Getting directions from a piece of paper, and it gets so you turn without thinking, you see the name and know it is to your left and down, or to your right and up so far. 

     

    Then we hop in the car and the address on the paper tells you when to break, you pull down the door on the mailbox, etc….

     

    This blows my mind, or may I should say it blows my creativity.

     

    My saving grace is the interaction with the ladies in the office and then I listen to Sirius Radio.

     

    Oh my goodness.  This is what we do to bring home money to pay the bills.  No wonder there is burn out!

     

    Well it is time for me to pack a lunch and go and be the mail puppet!  It is clear out, so maybe I will have a sunny day.  The colors are changing so there is wonderful scenery to view along the way.

     

    I guess in the end we are all puppets to something!  The best is to be a puppet doing what you love to do, then I bet the invisible thread wouldn’t matter as much.

     

    If your puppeteer is Spirit or Passion, I bet we are inspired to move!

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  • I am worthy of being Me!

    Worthy or Worthless, who gets to decide our worth? 

    How do you tell if you are worthy or worthless, will people tell you the truth and if so which people?

     

    Which truth matters more, that of the folks outside interacting with you or your sense of self?  What is a sense of self and where is this determined?

     

    Is it our thoughts, our actions, our words, our feelings, just where is the value held?  Is there a value system in place where you get so many points for doing this good thing and then so many minuses for doing that?

     

    What makes a ‘bad mark’ and then what constitutes a good one.  What has value and what is worthless, what was a lesson and for our wisdom and then what was just junk?

     

    What in my life was all for naught and added up to zero on the worth scale?  Which part could I take out and call worthless?

     

    Which part of me is no good?  Is there a portion that I could live without?

     

    Who decides all of this?  Is there that ‘final judgment day?’

    Is there a final report card where we will fall short of the mark and then what?  What happens if our value didn’t hold up?

     

    The phrase, “two wrongs don’t make a right” so how do we right a wrong or do we live with wrongs forever?

     

    Do many wrongs pile up and make us a worthless person?

    If so, how do we then do ‘right’ to tear down the pile?

    What is right and what is wrong?

     

    I recall reading a while ago, that sin was when you missed the Mark. 

     

    I was raised in a religion that really kept score, they had a worthy or a non-worthy scale and put the fear of God in you.

     

    That religion told us there was this very judgmental God sitting up there calculating just how good you were and just how bad.  And they even had scales to weigh you and rules that would make you worthless.  In fact if you were human in a human body and living, you were pretty much doomed.

     

    This religion along with the abuse of my father kept me in a state of worthlessness.

     

    I feared God, for so much about me was wrong, I didn’t measure up to his wholeness that he needed and wanted of me.

     

    As I sit here today I view myself with much different eyes.

    I see my life experiences especially in the formative years and see how it was I grew.  There is no judgment there, just a knowing.

     

    I see myself as “forgive her she knew not what she did.”

     

    Einstein was right, “you can’t solve the problem at the same level it was created.”

     

    I couldn’t solve my problems within that religion for that religion created many of them. 

     

    I couldn’t solve my abuse staying with my father I had to leave. 

     

    Learning to love had to be found away from those who loved me wrong.

     

    I see now where I missed the mark many times, but I can also see why. 

     

    Maybe worthiness comes with understanding or with empathy towards yourself, and when you can see clearly that you did the best you could given what you knew, you will find yourself worthy.

     

    I see myself, as a work in progress, a life being experienced moment by moment, and the final project will be complete upon my death and not a moment before.

     

    I get excited when I get to try and do something differently than I did before, when I get to try and be a different me.

     

    Not a better me or not so good me, but a different me.

     

    I am and will always be just me. 

     

    So, is there such a thing as a worthless Me? 

     

    Maybe we should throw away the words worthy or worthless along with that religion.

     

    The me I am is because the road I traveled, not in spite of it.

     

    I am worthy because I am me!

     

    My body is worthy, it is a fabulous vehicle, my brain is worthy for it can rewire itself, my feelings are worthy for they show me reality, my eyes are worthy for they see all things, my ears are worthy in all they hear, my worthiness goes on and on, in fact I dare you to find one part of me that isn’t worthy of being me!

     

    I am worthy of being Me!

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  • I Love so I can Live.

    Love and its application, how does each person apply love?

    How do they know what to love and what not to love, or how to love and how not to love?

     

    The choice in love is not a given.  Are we able to chose or not chose to love our parents, our siblings, even what we love to wear at an early age?

     

    The freedom in the Love is the key to if love is dysfunctional or not.

     

    If we can love from the self-view, or we can call it self-loving view, if we can decide ‘I love you’ or ‘I don’t love you’ then it is love from the inside.

     

    If it is love that is decided for us, demanded or expected of us, then it is not real love, but a commanded love.

     

    Unless you have experienced the free love, the choice love, you will feel that we walk away in anger.

     

    It is so not the case.  I walk away with love inside, with approval of self, with my self esteem held firmly in place with all my no’s and yes’s coming along for the ride.  I am a total package of freedom.

     

    This kind of love allows the other person to do and be what it is they want to be, but it gives us the right or privilege to move away.

     

    When you love yourself enough, was a title of a small book I read once, a book where there were just a few words on a page, more like quotes, and that term stuck with me.

     

    When you love yourself, you will not put yourself in harmful places, you will walk away from those who blindly hurt you.

     

    When you love yourself, you don’t need others to fill you up or prop you up, or do this or that. 

     

    Love isn’t about what you can give to the other, to complete the other; instead love is about letting the other be free to do the job of being themselves.

     

    I used to be in other’s businesses, but now I stay in my own.

     

    Each of us come with the same advantages or challenges along the way, and if we are seeking to learn, there are a million opportunities to learn each day.

     

    Opportunities to learn about our self and how we, love both others and ourselves.  It isn’t about changing the other to make them more loveable, but rather finding someone that matches our meaning of love.

     

    Of course the most optimal thing is to find this among your family, your sisters and brothers, but often we have to leave them in order to find love.

     

    I used to have a set of love rules that did not apply to family, family had a free pass, and it required nothing of them.

    It allowed them to less of themselves.  What I called love was actually love of enabling lower standards.

     

    I was in support of those doing and being less, remaining at lower level so I could ‘help’ them.

     

    But my going in and helping was enabling them not to help themselves.

    When I became responsible for just me, it freed them to be responsible for just themselves, I was the one to set them free.

     

    If I continued to believe that they couldn’t live a life without me, that is co-dependent, and it has me thinking less of them.

     

    I do believe to the depth of my being that each and every one of us comes into this life to learn what love is, to learn what self is, to be separate and whole.

     

    I also believe that we are given daily ways in order to do that, chances to make a new choice.  That there is a subtle or loud voice in our heads that is seeking for us to change, sometimes it is actual life being played out in front of us.

     

    Look around and see what is going right or what is going wrong, how often you are at peace with your voice or when you suppress what you feel and why.

     

    I lived longer silently and ignorant of using my own voice.

    I talked lots, but mostly I was a mouthpiece for others.

    I now only speak for myself.

     

    If I can find my voice, I know others can too.

     

    I heard my voice whispering in the backgrounds always, but I was too fearful of the consequences to speak.

     

    Now I am fearful of the consequences if I don’t speak.

    In the past my body and inner feeling was to move away from my father, but I stayed close.

     

    We all know the cost of that silence.

    I will never Not listen to my inner voice, my inner feelings, no matter at what cost to the other person.

     

    Love is being brave enough to move away.

    Love knows you can.

     

    When I moved away all my love came with.

    My love moves with me where ever I go, what ever I do, my love is like my breath now.

     

    Without my Love I would not want to live.

     

    It isn’t living without love it is simply surviving.

     

    Surviving isn’t living it is trying not to die.

     

    How many people are just trying not to die instead of really living? 

     

    I Love so I can Live.

     

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  • A voice and a choice!

    The dialogue continues with my sister and I.  That alone is surprising.  What she continues to show me is how she seen him and experienced the hurt.  What she fails to see is a way out of the hurt.

     

    I will repeat myself, that it doesn’t make it better to have your abuser be a your father, a man you trusted, loved and who fed and clothed you, IT MAKES IT WORSE.

     

    Wrapped up in and twisted around in is love and abuse. You can’t seem to tell where fear begins and love ends, or visa versa.

     

    Then let’s add the expectations of others as to how a daughter should act, and even expectations of your self!  Who are you if you can’t love and honor the father?

     

    I am certain this is where the rubber meets the road, the separation or division between my family and me.

     

    Perhaps they did see who he was, but they didn’t know how to stop being the role they had for many long years.

     

    Isn’t it funny it isn’t about him or who he is, but rather about who you are.

     

    Who are you in your relationships, what do you allow or not allow?  What would cause a daughter to give up her role, is there a line that has to be crossed, what is the line?

     

    My sister bravely stood in front of him, stated her fears and revulsion of him, yet couldn’t stop being a daughter.

     

    I know that in the past, I have heard of others who stand staunchly in their places amidst great forces, and I used to think how strong and how brave.

     

    But when I see a child who has been abused by a parent continue to be with or feel obligated to them, I see the breakdown of free choice.

     

    There seems to be a binding that takes place at a very young age, a bonding of sorts, one that will hold strong over the greatest evils, blood indeed is thicker than water.

     

    To break away, to stop being in a relationship takes more strength than staying.  And staying has to be very very hard.

    Maybe it is the opposite, for to stay would have killed me.

     

    How interesting it will be if we can continue to dialogue out why she stayed and why I left.

     

    Two abused girls with different reactions. 

     

    I will not judge them why they stayed, for I know the pain of leaving.  I know the cost of losing all, yet I also know the glory of finding a free self.

     

    I am free and strong, I now have a voice and a choice.

    I love that, “a voice and a choice” that is what all humans should have.

     

    He is allowed to be the man he is and I am allowed to walk away.  My mother is allowed to be the woman she is, and I am allowed to walk away.  I am not staying in a place that doesn’t suit my new found truths; I am not staying for their good and my detriment.

     

    I walked away from them, but straight into being me!

    At last I was present in my world, I had a voice and a choice!

     

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  • ….your Birthday.

    “In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods Where the straight way was lost.”

            Dante Alighieri

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    I am reading Elizabeth Lesser’s book, “Broken Open.”

     

    The philosopher William James wrote that there are two kinds of people in this world – Once-Born and the Twice-Born.  Once-Born people do not stray away from the familiar territory of who they think they are and what they think is expected of them. If fate pushes them to the edge of Dante’s famous dark woods, -where straight way is lost- they turn back.  They don’t want to learn something new from life’s darker lessons.  They stay with what seems safe, and what is acceptable to their family and society.  They stick with what they already know but don’t necessarily want. Once-Born people may go through life and never even know what lies beyond the woods – or that there are woods at all.

     

    Perhaps Once-Born person awakens one morning and feels the beckoning finger of fate loosening disturbing questions: “Is this all there is to life? Will I always feel the same?  Do I not have some purpose to fulfill, some greater kindness to give, some inner freedom to taste?”  And then gets out of bed and dresses for work, and he doesn’t attend to the soul’s questions.  The next morning, and all the next mornings he lives as if the soul was a figment of a flighty imagination.  This inattention makes him confused, or numb, or sad, or angry.

     

    A Twice-Born person pays attention when the soul pokes its head through the clouds of a half-lived life.  Whether through choice or calamity, the Twice-Born person goes into the woods, loses the straight way, makes mistakes, suffers loss, and confronts that which needs to change within himself in order to live a more genuine and radiant life.

     

    But let’s be careful here.  Sweeping distinctions like Once-Born and Twice-Born are often misleading. They can make you feel like a failure if you perceive yourself as a stuck-in-the-mud Once-Born.  Or they can inflate the ego if you fancy yourself a White Knight, swashbuckling your way through the boring landscape of everyday life.  The journey into the woods of change and transformation is an inner one.  The outer story line need not be a soap opera, since the real drama is being carried out in the heart of the traveler. The most ordinary looking lives are often being lived by the most extraordinary spiritual warriors – Twice-Born people use difficult changes in their outer lives to make the harder changes within.  While Once-Born people avoid or deny or bitterly accept the unpredictable changes of real life, Twice-Born people us adversity for awakening.  Betrayal, illness, divorce, the demise of a dream, the loss of a job, the death of a loved one – all of those can function as initiations into deeper life.

     

    The journey from Once-Born to Twice-Born brings us to a crossroads where the old ways of doing things are no longer working but a better way lies somewhere at the far edge of the woods.  We are afraid to step into those woods but even more afraid to turn back.  To turn back is one kind of death; to go forward is another.  The first kind of death ends in ashes; the second leads toward rebirth.  For some of us, the day arrives when we step willingly into the woods.  A longing to wake up, to feel more alive, to feel something spurs us beyond our fear.  Some of us resist like hell until the forces of fate deliver a crisis.  Some of us get sick and tired of filling an inner emptiness with drugs or drink or food, and we turn and face our real hunger: our soul hunger.

     

    Twice-Born people trade the safety of the known for the power of the unknown.  Something calls them into the woods, where the straight path vanishes and there is no turning back, only going through.  This is not easy.  It is not a made-up fairy tale.  It is very real and very difficult. To face our shadow- the dragons and hags that we have spent a lifetime running away from – is perhaps the most difficult journey we will have to take.  But it is there, in the shadows, that we retrieve our hidden parts, learn our lessons, and give birth to the wise mature self.  From my personal experience, and from my work I have done with men and women in my workshops, I know that the difficulty of the dark journey is matched only by its rewards.  I also know that every single person in the whole world is offered- over and over- the chance to take the voyage from Once-Born innocence to Twice-Born wisdom.

    (end of quoting her book)

     

    It is my sister’s birthday, and my wish for her is to enter into the woods, to leave the beaten trail of being powerless, and step into the power of the unknown.

     

    Her courage stays only in the known, and boldly she walks in the meadows of our youth stomping down wild ideas the soul is whispering.

     

    Today sister may you hear the whispers, may you find the courage to heed the call, to walk bravely with all your courage into the woods and become Twice-Born on this day, your Birthday.

     

     

     

  • Ahead of time.

    It has been 10 days since my brother and I shared any communication, no emails, no texts, and certainly not a phone call, in silence our relationship is on pause since our last phone conversation.

     

    The silence isn’t pregnant, or full of potential hurtfulness, but rather a soft silence, a silence that is healing and one that we both respect and participate in, but I still miss him.

     

    While he has been sitting in silence, meditating, and being still, as well as doing selfishly for others, I am doing the opposite.

     

    I am working more, crunching more and more into the space of a day, instead of keeping spaces of stillness and peace.

     

    I miss the quiet times, the space allowed to sit and stare at the fire in the fireplace, the pondering of fabrics, colors and design, I miss just doing as I feel, instead of feeling forced into moving.

     

    Delivering mail we are always fighting with time.  This is the first job ever that I had where I feel time is fleeting and the job too large to squeeze in.

     

    I have been doing two routes this past week, one allows us a ride in the country, so at least I get to view nature and find breathing space, the other in town feels really confusing.

     

    I wonder how it feels for him to step out of the time/space continuum and just be.

     

    I know now that I prefer the slower pace, the Artist way.

     

    Tomorrow he will call when his silence has broken, I am wondering if he broke the spell his mind has had on him, did he break through to be more present, settling down the racing mind.

     

    While he experienced the racing mind, I have been racing time and reality.  My slower meditative, contemplative mind is slammed into a hurry up reality.

     

    How will he like being back in his life again?  To once again join the human race.

     

    Isn’t it funny we call it the human race?

     

    What are us humans racing for?

    Is there a prize?  Is there a goal?

    Will those who race faster win this one?

    What is the purpose of this race?

    Who gets to decide how fast we run, where we run, and if we run?

     

    What if we just sit?

    What if we take ourselves out of the race and walk?

    What if we slow down and enjoy the scenery along the way?

     

    My whole life used to be living to get somewhere, now I am somewhere living.

     

    I am here now.

    I am sitting by my fireplace typing, I hear the fire crackling, and have a slight focus on time, but for now I sip my tea and put my thoughts on paper.

     

    Time is always present, but I am too.  We both jostle each other to grab this moment, more and more I win.

    I am ahead of time.

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  • Our time together

    Twenty-seven years ago today, my husband and I began dating.  We had talked to each other almost daily on the phone for 6 months, before we went on a date.

     

    We began talking, sharing and enjoying each other’s differences. In some things we have gotten more alike and in others more different, and through it all maintain our sense of separateness as well as togetherness.

     

    The phrase, “you complete me” doesn’t apply to us, for we are each standing strong alone.  He is not a man who is lacking something that I need to carry, nor does he have a part of me.

     

    In the beginning I was much more lost then him, and I served him always before myself. 

     

    The past five years has been about recovering me, about finding a sense of self that I never had before.

     

    I had told him often in the first years of my recovery that he would be getting a new lady but with the same lady if that makes sense to you.

     

    He didn’t have to leave his marriage, but he is now with a totally different lady.

     

    It took him a while and he grieved for the Me he first fell in love with, but over time and with patience and courage, we both fell in love with the new me.

     

    Our relationship is special and neither of us takes it for granted.

     

    A love that allowed me to be me, a love that flourishes in the good times and in the bad, one that can withstand the changes of life no matter how they appear.

     

    When I think back to the early days of discovering who my father was, to see his picture in the papers, on the radio and on TV, my husband never once considered me too soiled to be with.  He never once dropped my hand.

     

    He never once considered leaving me behind.

     

    I held his hand while I had to do the bulk of the work inside.

    His hand gave me the strength I needed to walk alone.

    Like a good set of training wheels!

     

    As I look back on our journey together, it is one that has allowed us to become more of our selves. 

     

    Neither of us is lost in the relationship, instead we bring our full selves to the relationship called Us.

     

    We are complete alone, but enjoy our time together.

     

  • Powerful in being me.

    For the past year or more, while delivering mail it has occurred to me that I am just the middleman, but many act like I am the one who decides what they receive in their mailbox.

     

    They are thrilled when I deliver a package they ordered, but in a few weeks when I drop off the bill, they seem disappointed and even sometimes angry.

     

    How quickly they forget the thrill of the package and what ever it contained, I guess by the time the bill comes the happiness has waned.

     

    There is a definite similarity between being a mailman and being the Universe.

     

    All we are is the system or the one bringing you what you asked for, or the consequence to a behavior.  I am not certain you can understand this.  But I felt a kinship to the Universe in being held responsible for things that others are doing to themselves.

     

    I have literally no control over what comes in the mail and what goes out, they seem to lose sight of themselves and their actions that are directing the kind of mail that arrives.

     

    We, the mail people are powerless.  The power lies with the box holder, the owner of the box!

     

    In my life the more I watched how my actions or non-actions precipitated a certain result, the more and more I became watchful.  What we do in this step today, will bring something in the future.

     

    It is like we are always ordering from the Universe, always requesting something, we just have to watch what comes and then walk backwards to see when you ordered that.

     

    There isn’t an unkind Universe for some and then a kind Universe for others, it is just like a Big Mail man, and your life is your mailbox.

     

    As I am tentatively contemplating whether to begin a new relationship with my sister, I am in the middle of the action.

    How I approach this action today will decide what the future will be.

     

    I could ignore all my inner instincts and she could too, and we could hop into our old pattern. 

     

    But the Universe would not be to blame for how it turns out, we are.

     

    We are literally the ones we are waiting for.  As Ghandi says, “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

     

    I have to be the change. I have to be the one to speak up, to request what I need, to be the voice, I can’t just sit back and hope that things will iron out eventually.  I have to be the one to do the ironing!

     

    The Universe and I are a team.  I understand that I have just as big of a part as the Universe. 

     

    It is like blaming the mirror for you looking the way you do, for not combing your hair.  It can only change if you are willing to do the work, or be the change, or walk the walk.

     

    The mirror is only telling you what it is you are doing.

    It didn’t messy up your hair.

     

    If you look around your life, who is there and what do they look like, act like, be like? 

     

    They are there because you said it was ok for them to be there. You said it, or maybe you didn’t say that it was not okay.

     

    I love that I am the ‘change’ I see in the world, that it is up to me to be a full participant, and I love how the Universe just abundantly and lovingly gives me whatever it is I ask for.

     

    What I also love is that I am now learning what hurts and what doesn’t, what love is and what it isn’t.  I am finally learning I am powerful in being me.

     

     

  • Heading in the right direction.

    Today I was on a new mail route, new to me mail route.  I have done this route a few weeks back, but today it seemed brand new, again.

     

    It took me longer to find the slot for the letters to go, it was not a natural second nature type tossing, instead it was a hunt and hunt and then hunt some more, trying to remember where their slot was.

     

    After 3 ½ hours of hunting, I finally completed three trays of letter, roughly 300 in each.  It is then time to sort packages and try to put them in the order that they will appear as I drive along the route.

     

    When I had it all the mail in order of delivery, I went outside to get my car, and saw a flat tire. 

     

    I was so grateful I was still in town at the Post Office.  An hour later, with a new tire in place I was ready to begin to find these people in the real world.

     

    Oh my gosh, it is such a riot.  In town it is harder than the country, but we can back track easier.  I never found three mailboxes, but am hopeful that I will tomorrow.

     

    The house faces the street, but the box can be on a side street, so you are driving on street A, and the address on the mail in your hand is for street B, and the boxes are not all marked, so I rode around some blocks twice and had the mailboxes on the wrong side of the street. 

     

    One box I opened today, unbeknownst to me, held a hornet’s nest, I guess that box isn’t used for mail!  My car had a few flying around as I am driving around!

     

    When I arrived at a section on the route where there are 9 cluster boxes, the folks gathered around and we all played, ‘find the right slot’…..it became like a game.  I loved how they wanted me to succeed.

     

    I was so happy to finally after 4 hours, and only 20 miles, make it back to the post office, and even happier to arrive back home. 

     

    As I entered the house, my daughter points out my car is in the driveway “bubble light” is still flashing, going around and around.  This is the second night in a row that I traveled home 20 miles with the light flashing.


    I guess it is now a common site, a caddy riding down the road, me looking so thrilled to be heading home, tired but pleased, my car is empty and heading in the right direction!

     

     

     

     

     

     

March 2026
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I M Perfect, and it is impossible not to be.


Twenty Twenty-Five

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