1/14/14—Ordering Fries With That

I was sorting through some of my old posts today to help me outline a book I want to write and this one caught my attention. At first I didn't feel like it applied to me much right now, but now I have to rethink that. I didn't notice until just before I posted it that this originally ran on the anniversary of one of my parents' deaths (a parent I had just been talking to someone about moments ago.) So maybe that's a sign that I should reconsider how this applies to my life right now. So here it is, from 4/9/12...

Imagine you're at McDonald's and you order a large chocolate shake in the drive thru. Here's how the conversation might go:

DRIVE THRU: "Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try one of our extra value meals?"

YOU: "No, thank you. I'd like a large chocolate shake."

DRIVE THRU: "A large chocolate shake?"

YOU: "Yes, a large chocolate shake."

DRIVE THRU: "Would you like anything else today? How about some fries with that?"

YOU: "No thank you. Just the shake."

DRIVE THRU: "OK, that's one large chocolate shake. That will $3.89. Drive to the first window, please."

Sound pretty familiar? It's a fairly basic way businesses have of determining your needs and seeing your openness to accepting various up-sell contingencies. The same kind of thing happens when you decide to make a change or ask for something from the universe.

Say, for example, you're determined to say "no" more often to the people who are always asking you for your time or resources. So you decide you're not going to be suckered in any longer. Next thing you know, Marcie calls you. She is running late, as usual, has a whole dramatic story and needs you to drive her kids to school. You say you're really busy and can't possibly fit it in. Situation handled. You're a naysaying machine! You can do this!

But then a few days later, Karla calls you and ups the ante. Her husband has surprised her with an anniversary getaway weekend and it's going to be SOOOO romantic! He found a babysitter and everything. No worries there. But the thing is, it's Karla's turn to bake five dozen cupcakes for tomorrow's PTA meeting. And this whole thing came as a surprise to her. Of course she wants to get her hair and nails done before she leaves town. And she'd also like to surprise her husband with a little something something from Victoria's Secret. But there isn't time to do all that AND bake cupcakes. And you're the best baker she knows. The best in the whole PTA. And she'll owe you one. It's her ANNIVERSARY and her husband is FINALLY being romantic!!!!

But here's the thing, Karla already owes you at least two or three, if not more. And the reason is because every time you need Karla, you can't seem to get her on the phone. She has the uncanny ability of calling you back right when her help is no longer needed. On top of that, Karla's one of the reasons you realized you needed to say no in the first place. She's there for you when it's convenient for her to be, but she's not there for you in clutch situations.

It's Karla's anniversary. You don't want to disappoint her. And, now that she mentions it, you DO make the best cupcakes in the PTA. What do you do?

Think of this as the equivalent of your "do you want fries with that?" moment.

See, you've been chugging away like this for years. You TAUGHT people to take from you because you've always offered yourself up so readily in the past. And, while normal people would insist upon doing something nice for you for all the nice things you've done, you're not surrounded by normal people. You're surrounded by people who will take until you stop giving. Because that's the dynamic you've always accepted.

So, all of a sudden, the universe is supposed to believe you're serious about changing? You made a New Year's resolution to cut carbs just two weeks ago, and you've just ordered a chocolate shake from McDonald's! What's the universe supposed to think about you and your resolutions? No, the universe needs to be sure you're serious, so it sends tests. And once you pass those tests, it sends tougher ones to determine your boundaries around what you've said you want. How far are you willing to go on this "no" thing? You were strong when Marcie called, but what about Karla? What kind of contingencies are acceptable? The universe needs to know in order to help you get what you say you want.

We make a mistake when we ask for transformation and expect the people or situations that bother us to just disappear from our lives like "poof!" Yet, often that's why we give up. Because change is hard. The people who are used to taking from us become unhappy with us. And we assume that's a sign that the universe is against on this. Because if it really wanted to support us, it would be easy and everyone would applaud us. So we just give up.

But what we don't see is, in fact, the universe is in the process of giving us exactly what we need. It just wants to make sure we really want it because......you know........the whole chocolate shake thing...and all the other chocolate-shake-like things that came before it. And it also needs to know what the new parameters will be, because you've always been a sucker for a good sob story in the past. So it's refining the request. And yeah, you'll have to do some heavy lifting because the universe is a fan of teaching you how to fish, rather than just giving you fish.

So think about where this may apply to your life right now. Maybe it's not around saying "no". Maybe it's about speaking your mind to others. Maybe it's about trying to leave a bad relationship. Or maybe it's about saying "yes" to something, like working out, and obstacles like icy roads, long days at work and chocolate shakes that need some lovin' keep getting in your way. You're going to be tested. Your boundaries are going to be pushed. You're going to be offered "fries." And then you're going to be expected to do some work for what you want.

Are you going to say "I give up! I'm doomed to my miserable life!" the minute something gets in your way? Or are you going to hand that sackful of fries that mysteriously ended up in your car to a homeless person and say "bring it on, universe. Bring. It. On!"?

1/13/14—Finding Love in a Box

Dry conditioner (for second-day hair), fruity body
lotion, fruit-pigmented mascara, a cream for blemishes
and scars, and three flavors of tea.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a picture of what I got in my Birchbox this month. What is Birchbox? Well, it's an online place where you can go to buy high-end beauty and personal care supplies. And if you subscribe to Birchbox, they send you a box of samples every month for $10. That way you don't have to shell out $80 to see if a skin cream really works or wonder if a shampoo is really worth $40. You can try before you buy. (If you're reading this on Facebook, please use this link so I can get referral points: https://www.birchbox.com/invite/81vbg) :D

It would be perfectly understandable for most to take the stance of, "so you pay them to send you the samples the manufacturers give out for free?" Yes. That's exactly what I do. And for $10/month, I only get five samples—five samples that are not of my choosing, but do follow a profile I filled out. And now that I've poked around online (I usually discover trends right in the middle of their popularity, so I only discovered this recently, though it's been around awhile), I realize that other sites like Sephora are happy to send you samples for free with an order.

Good for them. I don't care.

I like Birchbox. I tell my friends about Birchbox. I am blogging about Birchbox as we speak. I've bought Birchbox gift subscriptions. And I have turned at least five people on to this nifty subscription service (which, btw, they do for men also...hint, hint). I am a mini Birchbox tornado blowing through peoples' lifeless hair, past their dull skin and across their unpainted fingernails to let them know that samples are on the way. Samples are on the way and everything is going to be fine!

So yeah, you could say I'm paying them to send me free samples. But I think anyone who has ever received a Birchbox knows that what I'm really paying for has nothing to do with finding a mascara I'd pay $50 for. I mean, Maybelline and Cover Girl have long standing track records for being among the best and you can get them at any drug store. And I so rarely wear makeup...or even shower for that matter, haha....that it's not really about the beauty supplies. I mean, it is. But it isn't.

It's about getting a box every month in the mail, and you have no idea what it contains. The picture shows what I got in my Birchbox, but my sisters got different stuff. Last month everyone I spoke to got something different in their box. You don't know what you're getting. And you may not like all of it. My sisters give the parts they don't like to their daughters (which sounds mean, but it's not...it's nail polish colors they're too mature for or hair products unsuitable for short hair...that kind of thing).

But here's the thing...you get an email telling you it's on its way. And for those two or three days you're waiting, there's a delicious wondering about what you're going to get. A nice anticipation. It's something that, if you're having a bad day or week, you can look forward to. And it has tracking so you can watch it fly across the country to you....a little surprise, for you and from you! And you give the Best. Gifts. Ever!!!! so you know it's going to be good.

For $10 a month you get a few days of curiosity that you know will have a happy ending. Then you can reach inside your box and use a $40 shampoo or hairspray, dab $150 perfume on your wrists and rub some Argan Oil on your face to feel what all the buzz is about. It's like anticipating a little love befalling you every month...a love that's different than other kinds. It's you, loving that part of you that still likes to explore makeup, the part that wondered about the oils and unctions on your mom's dressing table, the part that never gives up hope that you can squeeze lemonade out of an aging lemon. :D

Each month a box of love, beauty, mystery and possibilities falls on your doorstep. It's about more than paying $10 for a box of samples. It's about reviving magical pockets of wonder within you that, even if you're a very young 50 like me, you might have long ago forgotten.

(BTW, I'm not a paid spokesperson for Birchbox...haha. I'm just really enjoying it and had nothing else to write about today.)

1/10/14—Competing Less and Paying As You Go

This is my cell phone. The drug dealers, pimps, ho's, gang members and convicts amongst my readership will recognize it as a "burner". Everyone else might know it as a pay-as-you-go phone. See, I don't really need a cell phone. So I pay $100 a year to enjoy 10 cents-a-minute and 20 cents-a-text coverage wherever I go. I use less than $20 of that coverage each year and text the rest of my balance to charity. 

The cell phone itself is part of today's story, as is that sparkly pink wristband that looks like it was burped up by My First Barbie. See, I'd had a pink pay-as-you-go flip phone for years. All it did was make phone calls. It could text, too, but it didn't have a keyboard, just numbers. I bought it used. Add the four years that I owned it and it was probably six or seven years old—ancient for phone technology. So it was time to turn it in. 

I went to a Radio Shack right next door to an AT&T store, figuring that would provide a bifecta of phone shopping experiences. But I never made it out of the Radio Shack. The reason? A rotund, loud, pimple-faced teenage girl who took it upon herself to be my salesperson. She turned out to be one of the most competent salespeople I had ever encountered in the kind of store you go into expecting to consult with someone who knows more than you. 

She showed me where the pay-as-you-go phones were and held out this phone. Instead, I reached for a flip phone. As a cell phone luddite, I wasn't sure I was ready for something that looked like a grown up cell phone. "No, you don't want that," she said, handing me the white phone with the keypad. "This will do more for you. You'll get more value from your pay plan and texting will be easier. It's brand new."

"But I don't text," I said. 

She replied, "but one day you will. And you'll want this phone."

I surrendered to her expertise and on the way to the register, we stopped and she said, "you'll also want one of these in case you drop your phone." I perused the cell phone covers and chose black. Then she reached out for my old cell phone and said, "I'll transfer the data for you." 

Now, this chick was kind of bossy and lacking in finesse, but she knew her stuff. Since my new phone had just hit the shelves, she wasn't up on the particular model, so it took her a few minutes to figure out how to move the data from my outdated phone to a new one. It wasn't as straightforward as switching memory chips. But once she got the data transfer going, she helped another customer out. Then another came in and asked a question and she turned to her older associate and said, "would you show her where the XYZ is? I'm helping a customer." 

His eyes widened and I got the impression he outranked her in the Radio Shack hierarchy. Then she shamed him by offering, "or you could finish up this lady's cell phone..." referring to me. It was clear he wasn't capable of that, so he helped the other woman. Normally I wouldn't be so patient or pleasant. I'm not the best customer in the world sometimes. But this particular day I was taken by this girl's skill and her attitude actually amused me because she was just so...annoying...haha. 

Once my phone was done, she asked me to wait as she walked across the store. Once

Awesome sunset captured by my burner.

there, she called out to me, "silver or pink?" I said "pink" and she came back with the totally-inappropriate-for-a-50-year-old-yet-somehow-garishly-appealing sparkly pink wristband. It was on clearance for somewhere around $1. I waffled a bit, but she convinced me it would help me text. Even though I don't text. So that's how I left with a phone I didn't have to program, a black protective case and a sparkly pink wristband. But I also left with a lesson. 

This girl's competence was obvious. She didn't need to prove it with any arrogant bravado. Nor did she need to wield it at the expense of her co-worker. I was so impressed with her casual up-sell capabilities, supported by benefits. I was impressed with her product knowledge, most of which was self taught, I discovered. She was funny in a "I'm so glad I'm not a teenager anymore" kind of way. She didn't have to push it. I have no doubt this girl could be a top achiever anywhere she worked.

As an emotional, paranoid self-employed writer given to crises of self confidence, I've had to be extra careful to swim only in my own pond. What I mean by that is that I've had to work hard to understand that there is enough work, enough success, enough praise, enough respect and enough money out there for everyone to win. So I never have to win at anyone's expense. Nor do I ever have to worry about what my competition is doing. There is no competition in my pond. There is no lack of money or success or opportunity in my pond. There is no need for me to dip into anyone else's pond to get my needs met. In fact, I don't even care to know "my competitors" exist.

It's not about denial. It's about knowing that I have the power to create my own reality and my own success. And if my reality includes competitors I have to compete with for limited funds and success, it takes attention and relevance away from my competence. It takes away from my customer relations. And it takes away from the colleagues I work with, like it did with that girl. It does this because it means I have to work from a place of fear, not confidence. Lack, not abundance. Competition, not cooperation. Helplessness, rather than creatorship. Competition is not an arena that helps you show your power. It's one that zaps you of your power.

That said, it's nice to have a little something nipping at your heels to keep you evolving as a professional and as a person. And, of course, you have to be aware of your marketplace. But when you compete with yourself, you fish in a pond you create and rule. When you compete with others, you fish in a pond where there are limited resources that have already been created according to a communal vision. 

Each time you look outside your own pond for anything—clients, affirmation, self esteem, resources—you immediately limit your possibilities. Because wherever competition exists, it exists under the conditions of limited resources and options that have to be shared. Otherwise, it's not a competition. Someone has to lose in order for you to win. It's a mindset that can kill a freelance career, because fear is a heavy burden to bear when a paycheck isn't guaranteed. Besides, think of the people you know who thrive on competition. Are they people you'd consider balanced? Trustworthy? Humble? Gracious? Do you really want to swim in their pond?

So today's post challenges you to look at where you might be competing or winning at the expense of another and consider if competition makes you more of the kind of person you admire or less. It also asks you to explore whether or not you believe you live in a world with limited resources. The way I see it, if we've come here to expand as souls and spirits, we should give ourselves as much room as possible by taking away the limitations of ego and communal ponds. And if you can be kinder to others in the process, all the better. 

Oh, and the salesperson at Radio Shack was right on all fronts. The wristband makes it easier to text. I do text more, but that's "more" in the context of me only turning the phone on once, maybe twice a month. And the phone she sold me absolutely does more. I can get email on this phone and even view Facebook in a pinch. And I can take pics that garner praise on my Facebook page. It's kind of like a weak excuse for a smartphone (you can't do smartphones on pay as you go, so it's the best alternative out there.) I'm getting way more value for my 10 cents a minute. She was so right. Now I can't wait to drop the phone for the first time to see how my protective case works. ;)

1/9/14—Colliding With Detachment

Last week we talked about letting go in conjunction with the new moon and the beginning of a new year. And we used the analogy of how trees let go of their leaves fully and completely, which enables them to grow and bud and create new leaves.


But that's not all that happens when a tree sheds its leaves. It also reveals things that lay hidden beneath the leaves. Like the two nests in my neighbor's tree. You don't get a full picture of the situation until the clutter is gone. And it's that way with us, too. Letting go reveals things that are hard to see while you're still holding on.


One of the paths of Buddhism is cultivating a detached mind. I'm not a Buddhist, but detachment is a powerful state. As philosopher and mystic Simone Weil observed, “attachment is the great fabricator of illusions; reality can be obtained only by someone who is detached.” And that pretty much encapsulates the point of today's post. Without the leaves, we can better see the reality of the tree. Without our attachments, we can better see the reality of our lives.


Attachment is nothing more than holding on...holding on to anger, hurt, love, desire—you name it. There is no objectivity, no reality, through the eyes of emotion. Our emotions bias us greatly. But it would be a mistake to think that detachment is walking through life without emotion. Rather it's not being attached to your emotions. It's about separating yourself from your thoughts, emotions and biases so they don't color your world. It's about not being ruled by the whims of emotion.


You can detach overall—that's the Buddhist path that leads to peace and contentment (aka the end of suffering.) Or you can detach from a situation or person, which is what I really mean to talk about today. Because as long as you're invested in a situation—as long as you're in the head of "right and wrong", "your fault and mine", "fair and unfair", "happy or sad" etc.—you can't see the truth of what is going on. You can't be objective. You can only see things through the lens of the emotion or stance you're attached to.


Sometimes you catch a glimpse of the truth...or a glimpse of compassion. And that triggers understanding. Which then triggers letting go. But more often than not, it's the other way around. You drive yourself crazy until you have no other option but to let go. And, once detached, you gain understanding. And then the truth is revealed.


So while you're telling yourself, "I can't let go until I fully understand what happened and why," its actually more common that you won't understand what happened and why until you let go. It's one of life's little paradoxes. But when you think of how you are when you're all caught up in something—obsessing over it, replaying it over and over, thinking of how you'll handle this eventuality or that, drawing conclusions, feeling angry or hurt, pretending like you don't care—you can see how the mind is occupied with everything but genuine understanding. This mental clutter, like leaves on a tree, hides what is really going on at the core of the situation, the core of you and the core of the other person.


In most interpersonal conflict, for example, the reality is that whatever the other person did was not about you at all. You just felt it that way because their drama coincided with a pain or fear or desire deep within you that they weren't aware of or even thinking about at the time.


In essence, two pains collided and neither of the two pains even saw or thought about the other pain...like an auto accident where you don't see the other person until you've already hit them. Then all hell breaks loose. Then everyone gets huffy. You go about dealing with the headache of getting things back to the way they were before the accident...with everything in its place so you don't have to worry moving forward. Then time passes and you realize, at the heart of it, it was only an accident, it wasn't really anyone's fault, it didn't happen just to piss you off and thank god everyone came out of it alive.


Whether it's conflict or sorrow or love or romance that happened to you, it was just a collision...something that came to wake you up and shake you up in some area of your life. And, like with the cars, you'll never get back to exactly where you were before the collision. There may be a new and different feel to your vehicle. But unlike with the cars, the transformation that came from the collision is your divine reward. And like the nests in the trees, you can't see that until all your leaves—all the dead skin cells of the injury caused by the collision—have dropped and exposed the beautiful, life-supporting gems beneath.

1/8/14—Walking Your Talk

I wanted to post an original post today, but I got a call from my brother and we talked for a very long time. So here's a post from 1/22/12 and I'll get to the one I wanted to write tomorrow or the next day. :)

A while back, one of my artist friends, Joanna Powell Colbert, wrote something that forever changed the way I looked at my backyard.  

She urged her readers to notice the other animal families that live alongside ours on our properties. And not just to notice them, but to dial into them the way we do our human neighbors—recognizing their patterns and quirks.

Certainly I was aware of much of what lived in my backyard before. There are the birds that live in the honeysuckle tangle. The rabbits that nest under the shed. The mice that live beneath my deck and occasionally invade my house. Then there are the passers by—the mourning doves, the cardinal, the bluejay, the possums, the owl and Harvey, the neighbor's cat who likes to torment my dogs.

I knew all this, but had never seen it as a community before. Nor did I recognize my role as the steward of this community. For example, I take precautions so my dogs can't get at the bunnies under the shed. If I see Harvey in our yard, I warn him before I release the hounds. And, essentially, I don't do anything to discourage these families from thriving on my property (though when the mice enter the house, all bets are off.)

So it was in this mind last year when I really took a good look at the squirrels that raise their young in my tree. It started out with birds nesting in this one hollowed out limb. But about eight or nine years ago I saw the birds being unceremoniously evicted by the squirrels. Since then I've watched generations of baby squirrels peek their heads out that hollow hole looking for their mama. Then, when they get big enough, everyone moves elsewhere, vacating the hole until the following spring.

Anyway, all that changed when, late last summer, a storm brought down that hollow limb. The squirrels were long gone, so nobody got injured. But their home was totaled. I kept the hollow part and leaned it up against my tree, intending to fill it with soil this spring and make it into a planter or other yard feature.

Well, we've had a warm winter so far. And I think someone might have gotten pregnant early, because I've been seeing a squirrel poking around my planter-in-waiting a lot lately. It's like s/he's assessing its worthiness for another scurry of squirrels expected in the spring. Every time I see him sizing it up, I want to warn him not to risk it. But I don't speak squirrel. All I know is one push and my dogs will have those babies. It's no longer fit for squirrels.

In our spiritual lives, we will all come across a challenge like this—when something that has served us for quite some time now no longer suits us. It might come upon us suddenly like it did for the evicted birds. Or it might take time and repeated reminders to realize, like with the squirrels.

As we move forward on our paths, we need to periodically check to see if the way we're living is in integrity with our beliefs. A vegetarian may realize they cannot, in all good conscience, continue to wear leather goods, for example. A yogi might realize the hypocrisy of their cigarette or alcohol habit. Or a spiritual seeker may find that holding grudges brings nothing but pain for them anymore. In short, the spiritual home we've built can no longer accommodate certain ways of being.

As you walk through the coming weeks, think about the squirrel and the choice he needs to make in order to do what's best for himself and his family. Consider whether the ways you're acting and being continue to honor the spiritual beliefs you've built. Observe your actions and interactions and ask yourself questions:

·      Are you approaching conflicts from a place of compassion and understanding?

·      Do you follow the advice you give to others?

·      Can you see where the judgment you placed on someone else might also be true    
        about you?

·      While you may not be saying unkind things, do you find yourself thinking them?

·      Are you really listening when people speak or are you thinking of all the stuff you 
        have to do later on?

·      Would Jesus/Buddha/God be proud of the way you handled that last interaction?

The questions you ask yourself may be different based upon your beliefs and where you are along your path. But you owe it to yourself to be as honest and as impartial in your self-assessment as possible. To make progress on our spiritual paths, it becomes necessary to shed parts of ourselves that no longer serve.

We may not always like what we see when we look inward. We may find it's not always convenient to act in integrity with our beliefs. We may even discover it's harder to find a new way of approaching things than it is to stay the same. But if you're one of those people who hates it when others don't walk their talk, then you've got to decide whether you're going to be one of those people you hate or not.

The look on my dog's face tells me that once that squirrel's eyes are opened to the way things need to be from this point forward, he will seek higher ground. And you will too.

1/6/14—Doing Nothing All Wrong

I've been thinking a lot lately about why it never seems like any amount of vacation or down time ever seems to be enough. I suppose there could be a lot of reasons for that. I'm burned out. I don't get good quality sleep. I spend much of my time off running around making up for the things I didn't do because I was busy before. 

All of those are good reasons, but I've discovered another one recently. And it's that the time that does get spent as downtime is time I feel guilty about. Guilty, because there's always something else I could be doing. There's always something left on my to-do list. And so when I truly do nothing, my head is filled with thoughts of how much more productive I *could* be. I just don't let myself savor it. Does this sound familiar to you?

Don't get me wrong. I have plenty of down time. More than most people because I don't commute to a job and don't necessarily work a full day every day. But little of it is quality time. Either I'm multi-tasking, such as watching TV and picking stuff up around the house. Or I'm laying here comatose, unwilling to do anything else and beating myself up about it because of all the stuff I COULD be doing but am not. The only time I ever seem to be in the moment and relaxed and enjoying my downtime is when I sit outside and meditate at night. And even then my mind wanders sometimes. 

So there are two things going goofy here. One is feeling guilty about doing nothing. And the other is is overstimulation/multitasking/worries that take me out of the moment, effectively voiding the effects of downtime. 

Too often I think we think of rest and relaxation the same way we do dessert...if and when you have it, you have it after everything else is eaten. And sometimes you don't eat it. It's an indulgence. A treat. 

When did this become OK? Why did I let it be OK? And was it ever any different? 

Truth is, I'm pretty sure we weren't sent down here to work all the time. And what logic does it make that downtime and relaxation...recharging....would be a last resort—something to do only when everything else is done? How come rest and enjoyment never even makes it to the To Do list, much less rises to the top of it? Why doesn't life work the other way around, meaning that when we're busying ourselves with work and errands and little tasks we're not feeling guilty about not relaxing more? If not now, when do we become fully present and aware in the time that's the fruit of all our toil?

I like feeling busy and accomplished a lot as much as the next guy. And it would be wonderful to have absolutely nothing left on that To Do list. But I'm not sure that will ever happen. So if I have to "earn my way" to relaxation by doing it only after everything else is done, I'll never have fun! And I'd like to feel just as accomplished and productive from doing nothing as I am from doing lots of crap. After all, downtime recharges us, it reduces stress (which improves health), it allows us to pursue our diverse interests and it makes life more worthwhile. Shouldn't that be a star on the To Do list, along with "make money" and "clean house"?

Maybe I'm alone in this. But I don't think I'm alone at not being fully present and in the moment in life. That alone—whether being present in work or play—makes us more vital. So what's your story? Do you enjoy guilt-free, fully present down time? Or are you doing it all wrong just like me? At 50 I'm thinking more and more about what all of this is for and I'm pretty sure it's not to live from one busy weekend to the next. 

1/3/14—Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

I discovered a viral video today. I was the 28,885,754th person to discover it, in fact. Which is kind of how things tend to go with me and internet phenomena anyway. So excuse if me if you're already familiar with "Emotional baby! Too cute!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIsCs9_-LP8

Usually the words "baby" and "cute" come off to me like "danger" and "shield your eyes" do to normal folk, but I clicked anyway. And what I found wasn't really cute at all. Instead, it was utterly fascinating.

See, this mom was singing a song to her baby about losing a love and missing them as they move on without her. And all the while the baby sits there and silently cries, tears streaming down its face. Now, we have few clues as to what the mom is doing as she's singing, but based on her voice, she's not in all-out diva drama mode. So the baby doesn't seem to be mimicking the mom or her emotion, rather she seems to feeling the lyrics of the song. Because I'm no baby expert, I checked with a mother of four. This is not normal baby behavior.

Probably more than 20 years ago, my sister Janet said something to me that has stuck with me ever since. She said she believed that babies were born knowing everything. Then they forget. Then, I guess, we spend the rest of our lives trying to remember. So when I see things like the crying baby (or child prodigies or kids with past lives...we'll get to them in a future post), it sets my mind whirring. It really makes me think about what goes on before the life we're living.

The topic is too large to cover in just one entry. But when I look at that crying baby reacting to the lyrics of the song, it makes me think of whatever peace and camaraderie they left behind to come here to perform their mission. Look, for all I know the mother was making faces that caused the baby's reactions and was spraying noxious fumes into the baby's eyes to make it cry. But that didn't seem to be the character of what was going on there.

A couple of weeks ago I had a remarkable experience at my monthly music healing session. I was brought to a place of utter peace, oneness, everythingness and love...like I was part of the fabric of the universe or an observer inside the head of God. It's hard to imagine what the experience of a soul must be like without anthropomorphizing it...without giving it human characteristics, like a body or emotions or thought. But this state I enjoyed in my session was, for the most part, without thought. It was at once energy and intelligence, and non-intelligent and non-energetic ether. It was, simply put, unimaginable and undefinable. And it made me think that this might be what a soul is like before it takes form and humanness and personality.

So imagine what it would be like to go from a place of utter balance and harmony and be plopped into the wild roller coaster ride of human emotion. Imagine what it would be like to be suddenly confined to a body instead of being limitless....to be held to the structures of space and time when just "yesterday" you existed on every dimension at once. Somewhere between remembering where we just were and forgetting who we are eternally may just be what babies and small children experience. And what I saw on that baby's face was the mourning of its previous state and whatever connections may be missed there while on this wild human adventure.

Will they ever see the reflection of their soul again? Will what they gain be as valuable as what they lost by coming here? Will the members of their soul group (if that exists) join them on this journey? What's with all this helplessness? What's with all this lack of communication? How come the mommy doesn't feel me the same way I feel her? How do I drive this thing? WTF have I gotten myself into!!!???

There's something really captivating about that video. I've never in person or on TV seen tears stream silently out of a baby's eyes, displaying emotions an infant could not possibly know or comprehend...unless something ethereal and otherworldly is going on that we cannot possibly know or comprehend. So it brings up so much in me.

Like what is a soul? If you had asked me three months ago, my answer would have been different than the answer I have after that healing session.

Why are we here? I honestly go back and forth on that, because the whole soul experience makes no logical sense to me. If the soul is connected to "the all that is" and shares that intelligence, then why go from a state of perfection/omniscience/angelhood/whatever to this flawed state of humanness? It would seem like a soul would have nothing to learn...no desires or curiosities to sate.

The farther down the rabbit hole I go and the more "answers" I seem to satisfy myself with, the more questions I have and the less I seem to know. Thus is the paradox of being human and seeking spirituality. What's your take on all of this? And does that baby conjure the same questions in you?