“Words will never inspire us to get up and do anything. But ecstasy just might.”—Mary Oliver
Having spent the past five weeks away, I haven’t yet watched the new season of “Ted Lasso.”
But I DID notice the cover story about Brett Goldstein (AKA Roy Kent) in the September issue of Men’s Health UK.
And while you might conclude I was attracted to the actor’s shirtless physique, it was actually his cure for overcoming depression that grabbed me.
For years, the hunky Goldstein suffered bouts of despair and gloom. Finally, after consulting a therapist, he was prescribed a 30-day program I wrote about in my book, Thank and Grow Rich.
Rx: Begin each day documenting things for which you’re grateful.
Day #1: “What am I grateful for?
Nothing,” he said. “But then I noticed the sun came up. You have to start so small.”
Despite his early resistance, the gratitude habit eventually rewired his brain.
“By Day 30, you’ve trained your brain to look for the positive,” he says. “And then you start thinking ‘I’m the luckiest guy in the world.’ Everything’s f****** amazing.”
He finally concluded that he’d spent his life learning all the wrong lessons.
“I get to choose how I see the world. Looking for good is a f******** skill.”
Oh, and by the way, the cover of Goldstein draped in a towel WAS a thrill to look at. It might even make MY gratitude list tomorrow.
“We’re on Main Street in Woo-Woo-ville and we’re running red lights.” – Zach Bush
So I probably wouldn’t bring this up in mixed company, but since you guys are here, running red lights with me, I’d like to mention a rather controversial subject.
Most folks on Planet Earth believe the system we find ourselves in is the only system there is. And many work diligently to fix the current system.
But everything we fight or attempt to repair or heal makes us an accomplice to that reality. Trying to correct something gives it more energy, adds to its oomph.
It’s to vote for a version of reality that cuts off access to Truth.
The world literally forms around what we think and believe. So if we believe “bad guys” are real and that problems need our attention, we invest in a false worldview.
And this is the really controversial part that those of us in Woo-Woo-Ville know.
There is a different reality field in which one can live –a reality field of gratitude and peace, a reality field that leaves space for Truth to prevail.
When you’re in this reality field, you notice the sky presenting different illustrations every day. You notice the kind waiter who, without asking, goes out to wipe off your bicycle seat after the rain. You notice the preposterously beautiful and seemingly infinite types of flowers on your morning walk, you notice the four baby swallows who eat with your posse every evening on the veranda-–thanks to their parent’s in-nest delivery service.
Also want to remind you that it’s T.G.I.N. Thank God it’s Now. Here’s to delighting in every now and recognizing this weekend as the very best one of your life. Let’s keep running those red lights.
“It’s a good thing I was born a girl, otherwise I’d be a drag queen. –Dolly Parton
I love living in the right here, right now. It gives the universe ample space to delight me.
But even so, I have tendencies. One of which is reading and answering emails on Mondays. And, yes, I’m still in Mexico – as of now, a month away from my home office.
No matter where I am, I get great joy from reading emails and comments. I once mentioned it’s akin to having my own personal inspiration feed.
I even had to chuckle at an email royalty statement for an old book of mine that came to a grand total of $1.25. So, thank you, to the reader who recently purchased my old, pre-Hay House book, Living Big.
The emails I get most excited about are stories from readers with tales that take us into another realm. A realm that those still stuck in the material, money-is-my-source reality would call preposterous.
These, it goes without saying, are my favorite kind.
Here’s one from a reader named Heather who recently decided to re-read E-Squared:
“Less than two weeks ago I had top of mind that I needed to grab russet potatoes from the grocery store to make mashed potatoes since I had left-over heavy cream from another recipe.
“For three days I had been thinking “I need to pick up russet potatoes.
“Every day I take my dog on a long walk around a disc golf course which is about a 2.5 mile loop. Last Sunday, while on our evening stroll — and I can’t make this up — I came across a brand new bag of russet potatoes, untouched sitting on the exact trail we walk every day.”
She even sent the picture which I’ve used in this email.
So folks, just know that most of our stories about how the world works are simply NOT true. They’re a disempowered, habitual version of reality.
Please know that the world, once you hurdle over the dominant fear-based paradigm, is far friendlier, loving and more trustworthy than you could ever imagine.
“The world will persist in exhibiting before you what you persist in affirming the world is.”—Emma Curtis Hopkins
Freedom from goofy notions.
For a long time, I’ve clutched to the story that I wasn’t a good speaker. I’ve guarded this ridiculous belief like a treasured jewel.
I’ve mentioned it in my books and on this very blog. And I was tempted once again to repeat it during the morning session here at my beloved spiritual home away from home.
In less than three weeks, I’m slated to give a keynote at a September Retreat for the Unity Ministers of the Mid-Atlantic States. It’s called Rising Together, it’s open to anyone and well, the planning committee seemed to think I should show up and drop a little wisdom.
As I begin contemplating what bars I wanted to lay down, the old terror began to arise.
But then I remembered the quote shared here Sunday at Michael Gott’s amazing Unity service.
“The world will persist in exhibiting before you what you persist in affirming the world is.”—Emma Curtis Hopkins
And I got it.
It is utter nonsense to persist in affirming that crusty old “I’m too scared to speak” story. There is absolutely no reason to drop my sad tale on even one more living being. Heck, for all I know, they might even start to believe it, might add energy to that nonsensical belief.
So I refrained from “processing it” with the group. I may have briefly mentioned it to my friend, Dayna, but hey, she knows, like me, that anything stained by limitation is a bunch of hogwash. It simply can’t be true.
So guess what?
I woke up this morning with a near fully-formed talk complete with what feels like a holy intention, a revelatory idea and stories to illustrate my points.
So, guys, if I can surrender this woe-is-me-tale that I’ve been dragging around for decades, you, too, can let go of any story, any belief, any notion that is keeping you from knowing your true self.
I’m heading off now to a session here that has something to do with Ramana Maharshi.
My home away from home. I love knowing that two friends here are now experiencing the Ajijic magic because of this very blog.
The first year E-Squared came out, I was interviewed on hundreds of podcasts. And I often described this weird lab manual of a book as a way for readers to experience miracles and magic with their own two eyes.
“Forget what others say,” I’d tell my interviewers. “To really get this truth that we are all loved beyond anything we can imagine, we need proof…with our own ever-loving eyeballs.”
These days I might answer differently. While I’m infinitely grateful for the pictures presented by my own human eyeballs, I find the best things in my life erupt from the invisible, from that which cannot be named. Or planned.
Using my own two eyes, I tend to see things I’ve trained my neuropathways to look for — usually some version of what has happened before.
But the more I let go and enter this different reality field where unexplained, unplanned things happen on the regular, the less interested I am in my eyeball’s limited purview.
That’s why I often share stories that stretch the narrative, that burst right through the preconceived limitations for which we often settle.
So when a reader named Karen suggested those of us in this party-called-a-blog submit stories of their own miracles and unexpected gifts, I thought “Perfect. Let’s start with yours.”
So, thank you, Karen, and thank you everyone who might feel called to share a story with the potential to liberate us from our boxes.
Take it away, Karen:
“Dressed in Miracles”
“Clothes shopping is not my favorite thing. It’s ranks right up there with dental procedures. I prefer shopping for things I need, like items on the grocery list.
“While talking to my buddy Lori, I mentioned I had a wedding to attend and the dress code was fall formal. Far from being a fashionista, I informed her that I didn’t know exactly what that meant and bemoaned the fact that the few casual items sitting in my closet (e.g., jeans and long sweaters) weren’t going to make the cut.
“This serendipitous conversation, unknown to me at the time, is how the Universe set the stage.
“I did the things I always do: visualize the details, google to get a sense of what’s out there. I began picturing a long and flowy maroon dress with sleeves or straps. Something easy and breezy that would let me wear my cute dress boots (no heels, please) and wouldn’t make me feel like a sausage inside its casing.
“Just a few simple requests of a perimenopausal woman putting her manifestation into motion.
“Two weeks later, Lori reached out with a simple text asking if I had found my dress. I had to confess I hadn’t started looking and then began my list of excuses: it’s hard to find petite sizes, it’ll cost me a small fortune, yada yada.
“I soon realized Lori didn’t text to hear a litany of excuses. This solutions-oriented gal wanted to tell me about a long, maroon-colored dress she noticed at the Salvation Army priced at $14.99.
“Could it be? Could my dream dress be less than 5 miles from my house? Open mind, open mind!”
“I casually mentioned to my husband on the way out the door, “I’m going to pick up my dress for the wedding.” He looked dumbfounded but stopped questioning my signs from the Universe a long time ago.
“I made a beeline for the formal stuff and began karate-ing my way through the tight racks of gowns.
“I didn’t find the maroon dress right away. What I did find were a few other dresses that might work – aiding and abetting my plan B because a teeny, tiny (but still loud) part of me wondered if the Universe could send me the perfect dress.
“When I finally spotted the maroon dress, I questioned whether it would fit, whether it looked like “me,” and whether I could really pull it off. I took it to the changing room with four other dresses.
“The others fit OK. They were a little big, but I decided I could make two of them work.
Even though I had sprinted to the shop with fairy dust in my shoes, I was already accepting less than what might possibly be perfect.
“Then it was time to welcome the Miracle.
“The maroon dress zipped without struggle, the length was perfect. It had straps and sleeves and a beautiful heart-shaped neckline which looked beautiful on my frame.
“My pleasant smile turned into a big one which turned into laughter which then turned into tears.
“The perfect dress, noticed by a thoughtful friend browsing a thrift store, in the color I visualized, which fit me like no other dress, and was the right price for my freelance writer budget, came to me the way most miracles arrive – unanticipated, not fully believed in the moment, and with more love than we feel we deserve.
“And I think once we overcome that last part, they then become an everyday part of our ordinary yet precious lives.”
Thank you again, Karen, and please post a photo of you in your dress at the wedding.
“Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.”—Simone Weil
If you happened to read my last book, you know I’m a fan of Byron Katie. I’ve attended her Nine-Day School for the Work. I interviewed her for Ego’s Playbook and well, basically I worship the ground she walks on.
I recently heard her tell a story that absolutely torpedoed my mind. And that’s saying a lot since I’m a longtime collector of “You are never going to believe this” stories.
Money falling out of the sky? Check.
Finding a lost key in an ocean? But, of course.
Being summoned to Ecuador through dreams? How else would a medicine man with no phone or email contact you?
But this story, nearly impossible to buy if you live in the standard materialist reality, demonstrates what all those sages and gurus mean when they suggest “being here now.” Being anywhere else is ultimately self-limiting.
Anyway, Katie arrived home after a vacation with her family only to open the door and discover that all their possessions were gone—jewelry, furniture, antique guns, pictures and family albums. The neighbors, who saw a moving van pull into the driveway, assumed the family was moving.
Katie’s husband and kids freaked out. I mean, how dare they take our precious things?
Katie, on the other hand, recognized that all those things were no longer hers. In that moment, she no longer owned that jewelry, those photos.
I’m far from a materialist, but if someone ran off with my photo albums of Taz or her artwork (heck, I’ve kept her bedroom just like she left it when she moved to college), I would fuss and ruminate and gunk up my energy field with anger.
Katie, on the other hand, could think of no good reason to hurt herself by giving any thought to the perceived unfairness of it all.
Those things? No longer hers. They belonged in a previous “now.” She prefers to enjoy the gifts in this “now.”
I’m sure digging my Mexican “now” and I trust you’re also enjoying yours.
“Seriously, how in the hell can you get bored in wonderland?”—Anna Brown
Hola, mis amigos! I’ve been out communing with the California redwoods, visiting Taz’s childhood bestie who, last Saturday night, had her first album release.
Yesterday, I flew to Mexico to my favorite community in the Sierra Madres—no redwoods, but lots of beautiful flora and fauna (there’s a hummingbird visiting me now on my veranda) and a whole community of people I love and adore.
During my week in California, I felt what I began calling my “spidey sense.” After just googling the term, I realize Spiderman uses his palpable, tingly sensations to avoid danger.
My tingle works just the opposite. It leads me on adventures. It presents meaningful, beautiful experiences I’m not expecting. It presents opportunities that reduced my vocabulary during the week to gushy “thank you, thank you, thank you’s.”
I’ve finally convinced my travel partners to cease from too-much planning. For me, it’s best not to have a daily schedule, to be open, to let the universe do its magic.
It makes most travelers too uncomfortable—to not know, to not have a set agenda. However, I notice that anything I know, anything I plan, while often fun, becomes a box, a trap that prevents me from seeing what else might be possible.
To name a few gifts from our perfect, open-hearted trip, we heard three Stanford researchers present fascinating talks at a BioX conference for students, we danced for two hours at a street party that just happened to feature music from two favorite bands (Steely Dan and Chicago) from our university days.
Taz’s childhood, Molly Joy, who just released her first album!!!
One morning, Mary said, “I’d really like to add some greenery to this vase of flowers (a bouquet we’d been gifted earlier in the week), but I don’t think our AirBnb hosts would appreciate us attacking their bushes.”
A few minutes later, as Patti and I were walking to a French bakery in the neighborhood, we noticed a pile of beautiful greenery that some gardener had just snipped and left behind on the sidewalk.
I’ll be here in Mexico for a month and I’m extremely happy to report that I have no idea what I’ll be doing (other than some writing, of course) and that I’m open and willing and extremely content in this reality field of surrender.
“Anything tainted by a filter of limitation is not true.”—David Bingham
Most of us can list our favorite movies and songs.
I had to chuckle at myself the other day when I blurted out “This is probably my favorite belief….”
Not that I have a top ten list or had given it much thought, but I definitely recognize that my beliefs play out in my life and color my experiences.
I can’t help but notice that most cultural, scientific and spiritual beliefs are disempowered versions of reality. I heard someone the other day call them belief traps—stories that keep us small and fearful and unwilling to open to bigger and better.
With a nod towards Julie Andrews, these are a few of my favorite beliefs:
Every single person is absolutely amazing, beautiful and loving. No exceptions. This belief gets a lot of push back. But think about it—if you believe kind, loving, thoughts about everyone, you draw those qualities out. If you believe there’s no such thing as “a bad guy,” they tend to disappear.
Healing happens. Everything regenerates. Thanks to the force field in which we exist, healing and regeneration are natural. They can only be stopped if we believe we need to do something, worry, google to find out what’s wrong. The belief that I can safely “let go” and let the field do its glorious thing has served me exceedingly well over the years.
Possibilities (AKA probabilities in the quantum field) are unlimited. I mean think about it, there are something like 10 billion stars in our galaxy alone and at least 2.5 trillion galaxies. Those numbers are so vast they don’t even compute. So whatever problem I might erroneously “believe” I’m confronting, I have to ask–is that a belief trap or just one of a gazillion, infinite, I-can’t-even-imagine possibilities. To believe that anything has a boundary, a terminus or a ceiling of any kind is not in my best interest.
Have a smashing day, oh noble comrades, and by that I mean, smashing any belief that might confine you in any way.
“I learned to communicate with invisible presences. I’ve been listening for the unseen ever since.”—Brian Conroy
The daily readings in the Course in Miracles right now are reviews, each one kicking off with the statement that is repeated ad naseum throughout the entire thousand-plus pages.
“I am not a body. I am free. For I am still as God created me.”
In this physical domain, that statement is a real head-scratcher. I see a body every time I look in the mirror. I feel a body when, as a girl who cain’t say no, I play pickleball way longer than I should.
However, I’ve also begun to notice that who I really am stretches way beyond the few cubic feet of material space I’ve identified as “me.”
As I begin to experience myself as an electromagnetic field, as an energetic frequency, I recognize the truth in that statement. I feel a connection to well, everything.
Lately, when people ask “how ya’ doin’?,” I’ve been answering with “I’m buzzy.”
What I mean is I’m feeling this palpable energetic buzz that brings me intense joy. I notice it whenever I stop for a moment, whenever I walk outside and feel the trees and the wind and the shimmering sun. Sometimes, I notice it when I’m unloading the dishwasher.
It’s different than say, the joy I get when Taz sends me a hedgehog or a reader offers thanks for one of my books.
It’s a field of coherence, I guess you could say, that feels alive and in unity with the whole universe.
And even though it’s hard to put into words, it feels magical and exciting and even well, commonplace.
May this field, this truth, this river of love bring peace and joy to us all.
“The field doesn’t need to be reached or earned. It needs only to be recognized.”—Cynthia Li
I spent last week in the mountains of Colorado. At dinner, on our first night there, the chef presented us with a delightful and unexpected amuse-bouche.
Translated from French, it means “an amusement for your mouth.” They’re small, whimsical culinary creations, never listed on the menu. Instead, an amuse-bouche is a free gift from the chef to a) make you feel special and b) to show off his or her talents.
All day, every day, I notice, life presents me with amuse-bouches, unexpected little joys that cost me nothing and showcase its bounty.
I still practice it every single morning. When you start looking for treasure (because, well, your possibility posse is waiting to hear the brand new things you’re grateful for), amuse-bouches pop up everywhere.
A couple more amuse-bouches!
When you put on the magic hat of gratitude, the gifts become too many to list.
I almost had to pinch myself on this trip to Colorado. The number of improbable and wonderous amuse-bouches began multiplying like Mickey’s broom in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice: the night sky without man-made light (I’d forgotten how many stars there are), the tiny adaptions of flowers above the tree line, the stunning beauty of mountain lakes, meeting just the right people giving just the right restaurant recommendations at just the right time.
I’ll close with an amuse-bouche shared yesterday by my Spanish maestra. Thanks to an early freeze, the peach trees on her farm lost their blossoms, taking all hope of a summer crop.
One evening last week, she noticed her mouth watering. She really, really, really wanted a big, fat, juicy durazno (that’s peach in Espanol), but, hey, her crop had failed and she lives in the country, miles from a grocery store. However, when she walked outside to look at the moon, there, on a branch of the peach tree nearest her house, hung a single, big, fat, juicy peach.
Did she summon it with her desire? Or was it an amuse-bouche lovingly presented by the creator of all magic?
