A Ratty Old Blanket, a Guilty Conscience and a Confession

When I was in Jr. High, for my birthday one year, I received a dual-sided pink comforter for my bed.  I also had a sleepover.

Young teenage girls can be "cliquey" and petty and mean-spirited.  I know.  I was one of them at one time.

 A group of my girlfriends came over to spend the night and a girl who used to be my friend came too.

Growing up, she lived across the street and we spent a lot of time together.  I don't remember us particularly bonding, but we were the same age and same sex and our moms got along, so it was assumed we would too.

Around the 6th grade, I started going to the same school as her.  We didn't run in the same circle of friends.  In fact, I thought she was snobby and standoffish.  Maybe my feelings were hurt because she wasn't friendlier to me, considering the fact that we had hung out together since age 5.  Anyway, we didn't have anything in common anymore.

I'm not sure why I invited her to my sleepover, but I did and she came.  Instantly the groups of girls divided.  She and another one of the girls broke off from the rest of us from the beginning.  She didn't like the games we had planned and I even have a picture of her from that day where she's got a rolled-eye expression on her face and her arms are crossed.  My dislike for her was intensifying by the minute.

By bedtime, it was definitely us vs. "them" but mainly her.  When she fell asleep first (NEVER) a good idea at a sleepover, we went into action.  First we put her hand into warm water, that old "pee your panties" trick.  I was of mixed emotions at this point.  Mainly, I wanted to get back at her for being who she was, but dang it, she was sleeping on my new, double-sided pink comforter!  My spite got the best of me and the trick commenced.  The warm water hand trick did not cause her to pee so we decided to just go ahead and pour the warm water "down there" and pretend that she had.  We poured.  She awoke to find all of us standing around her, staring.  My remembrance gets a little hazy at this point, but I think we pretended not to notice the "pee" on her underwear and bed until she got up to use the bathroom.  Then the whispering and giggling commenced.  Now's where my 22-year-old-ish memory of this incident diverges onto two possible paths.  Perhaps she pulled me aside and told me that something had happened.  Maybe we just accused her of peeing her pants when she got back.  Either way, I wasn't particularly nice about it.  I made a big deal about the comforter being new.  A birthday present from my mom.  No, I wasn't too nice and it still bothers me.

I am ready to get rid of the blanket.  I am almost 40 and the blanket has rips in it and is pretty thin.  Plus, I grew out of pink a long time ago.  It was on my bed in college, in my apartments and folded up for the dog.  It is time for it to go.  But you know what?  I think I owe someone an apology. 

I have at least 4 friends on Facebook who were there at that party.  I wonder if they remember this incident?  I wonder if they are friends with her. Maybe she's even on Facebook.  Anyway, I've been carrying this around inside for a long time and it's not a story I am proud of.  I wonder what will go first . . . the blanket or the guilt.  Thanks for listening.

A Course in Miracles

"Are you ok?" E asked me as I lay on our bed, my arm covering my eyes.
"Yeah." I moan, then get up with a purpose in my stride and get out my laptop.
"What are you doing?" he asks, looking up from playing Angry Birds on his phone.
"Blogging."
"About what?"
"My new book."
"The one you got today?"
"Yeah."
"Did you finish it already?"
"The preface."
"And you're going to write about it?"
"Yeah."

I've known for a few years that eventually, A Course in Miracles would come my way.  It was mentioned again and again in books and audiobooks I had read/listened to.  I had decided to not actively seek it out, knowing that when the time was right, it would be the right time to read it. 

Yesterday, my girl A and I were perusing the shelves in Barnes and Noble, our favorite "girl date" site and I was scanning the Spirituality shelves.  I had a gift certificate from my son and I was ready to spend it.  A few titles jumped out at me with names like A Course in Miracles in Five Minutes and A Course on a Course in Miracles.  I opened one of them to find out the original author of the original book.  Helen Schucman.  I went to the "S" section.  It wasn't there.  I went to the self-help computer and typed it in.  The computer said that there was a copy in stock, in fact the copy was a combined volume with the text, workbook for students and manual for teachers all in one.  Score!  I went back to the section and got back to the "S's".  Nope.  Not there.  Was this a sign that now was not the time for me to read this book?  Hmmm.  Looked at the computer again.  Stroll down a few other religious aisles. Still not there.  Ok.  I will start at the beginning of the Spiritual aisle and look at every title.  If it's not there, find something else for now.  I got to about the 5th row and there it was.  A Course in Miracles, combined volume, new third edition, "the only complete course as authorized by its scribe and published by its original publisher", published by the foundation for inner peace.  Wow.  Ok.  The book was sealed in plastic so I couldn't thumb through it, but all of a sudden, I didn't want it anymore.  It looked boring.  The cover was dark blue with gold lettering and there were no pictures to suck me in.  It looked time consuming, the thickness of a Bible or textbook.  It looked life-changing.  My ego spoke loudly about how I was doing JUST FINE and did I really want to delve into new thinking patterns?  I told A I didn't want it.  I asked aloud if it were just my ego getting in the way. A reminded me that I had been waiting for this book to land in my hands for over 3 years.  I had to get it.  "Ok." I sighed.  "Let's get to the checkout counter before I change my mind."

I later discovered that the reason the book wasn't in the "S" section for Schucman was because she didn't feel she had written the book herself, that the book came to her and that her job was to write down what she was told.  "The names of the collaborators in the recording of the Course do not appear on the cover because the Course can and should stand on its own.  It is not intended to become the basis for another cult. Its only purpose is to provide a way in which some people will be able to find their own Internal Teacher."  (viii) Dr. Wayne Dyer has said this before about some of his books, that an overwhelming need to write down a message is often put in his lap, at which time he gives thanks for it, meditates on it a bit, then starts writing. 

Helen Schucman was a professor of medical psychology at Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York city in the 70's.  She and a fellow professor found themselves on the path to this book after the head of their department "unexpectedly announced that he was tired of the angry and aggressive feelings (their) attitudes reflected, and concluded that 'there must be another way.'  As if on cue, I agreed to help him find it.  Apparently this Course is the other way."  (vii)

Helen's co-worker suggested she write down the "highly symbolic dreams and descriptions of the strange images that were coming to her and she came to realize that she was being dictated to by a Voice that seemed to be giving her a kind of rapid, inner dictation which she took down in a shorthand notebook."  She would dictate this to her co-worker, who would type it out.  This went on for seven years.

The curriculum of the Course states specifically that "a universal theology is impossible, but a universal experience is not only possible but necessary." "Although Christian in statement, the Course deals with universal spiritual themes.  It emphasizes that it is but one version of the universal curriculum.  There are many others, this one differing from them only in form.  They all lead to God in the end."  (viii-ix)  The workbook contains 365 lessons, though it is encouraged to stay with a lesson for more than one day if it seems appropriate. 

Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the peace of God.

           

One more time? Nothing unreal exists? We may find ourselves in a world of perceptions which leads us away from Truth, the love of God. "What perception sees and hears appears to be real because it permits into awareness only what conforms to the wishes of the perceiver." (x)

This is how A Course in Miracles begins.  It makes a fundamental distinction between real and unreal; between knowledge and perception.  Knowledge is truth, under one law, the law of love or God.  Truth is unalterable, eternal and unambiguous.  It can be unrecognized, but it cannot be changed. . . . The world of perception, on the other hand, is the world of time, of change, of beginnings and endings.  It is based on interpretation, not on facts.  It is the world of birth and death, founded on the belief in scarcity, loss, separation and death.  It is learned rather than given, selective in its perceptual emphases, unstable in its functioning, and inaccurate in its interpretations.  . . . What perception sees and hears appears to be real because it permits into awareness only what conforms to the wishes of the perceiver.  This leads to a world of illusions, a world which needs constant defense precisely because it is not real. (x)

The intro goes on to say that when one is "caught in the world of perception, (one) is caught in a dream."  This sounds mighty familiar to me, as I am a huge fan of Don Miguel Ruiz's The Four Agreements, a book which changed the way I viewed my life and those around me.  Ruiz explains that from birth, we are introduced to a dream-state by our caretakers who aren't trying to punish us by bringing us into this illusion of lack and scarcity and hate and pain, but only because it is only what they know.  Time to wake up, people!



The Four Agreements image borrowed from http://ideainnovator.ideamappingsuccess.com/

                                      

"The world we see merely reflects our own internal frame of reference-the dominant ideas, wishes and emotions in our minds.  'Projection makes perception.'  (p 445) We look inside first, decide the kind of world we want to see and then project that world outside, making it the truth as we see it.  We make it true by our interpretations of what it is we are seeing.  If we are using perception to justify our own mistakes-our anger, our impulses to attack, our lack of love in whatever form it may take-we will see a world of evil, destruction, malice, envy and despair.  All this we must learn to forgive, not because we are being 'good' and 'charitable,' but because what we are seeing is not true."  (xi)

"Sin is defined as 'lack of love' (11).  Since love is all there is, sin in the sight of the Holy Spirit is a mistake to be corrected, rather than an evil to be punished.  (!!!)  Our sense of inadequacy, weakness and incompletion comes from the strong investment in 'the scarcity principle' that governs the whole world of illusions.  From that point of view, we seek in others what we feel is wanting in ourselves.  That, in fact, is what passes for love in the dream world.  There can be no greater mistake than that, for love is incapable of asking for anything." (xi)

The law of attraction states that what I surround myself with in my mind will come to pass in the physical world.  It is time for me to read this book.  Dr. Wayne Dyer states, "Change the way you look at things and the things you look at will change."  I am ready for a change.  If I felt the need to blog after reading just the intro, who knows what will be coming up the pike?!?  Thanks for listening.

Those Darn Chick Flicks

Ok.  I have to admit it.  Sometimes nothing will do but to watch one of those darn chick flicks.  Those feelings of hope and sweetness sweep through you when you watch stuff like "Steel Magnolias" or "An Affair to Remember".  I go for months without watching one of those "feel good" movies, but a few weeks ago, I stopped by a yardsale that was selling about 100 DVDs for a buck each.  I scored 12.  Most of those acquisitions were ones I like to watch by myself and my guy would never in a million years pick, but I also bought "Good Fellas" and "The Lord of the Rings", which can make you feel good too, but for different reasons.

A few days ago I found myself all by myself in the mountains.  My family had gone off to play in the snow and I was more than content to stay behind.  I popped in one of my recent scores and watched "Ghost".  I am embarrassed to mention how many times I teared up during that cheesy movie.  It didn't help that my wedding song, "Unchained Melody" gets played about 3 times during the story about the lovers who are separated by death.  I have seen the parody of the sexy pottery wheel scene, but my brain was able to push that memory aside and enjoy the sexiness of Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze together.  They show just enough and not too much.  I like it when my imagination fills in the blanks.

Tonight I watched an even sweeter (and less sappy movie), "Serendipity".  I had seen it a long time ago and simply loved it.  When I saw it sealed and for a buck, I had snatched it up at that amazing sale.  John Cusack (whom I find an utterly adorable cupcake) plays Jonathan, who meets cute Sara (Kate Beckinsale) "accidentally" at Bloomingdale's one Christmas season when they both reach for the last pair of black cashmere gloves.  It is kismet.  Attraction at first sight.  Unfortunately, they are both in relationships, but they end up spending a few hours together anyway.  She buys him a coffee to repay him for letting her buy the gloves and he takes her skating.  She is determined to leave to fate any chance of them being right for each other, so she writes her name and phone number in a book and says she is going to sell it to a used bookstore.  She has him write his name and number on a $5 bill and then spends it to get it into circulation.  She says that if he is able to find the book or she the money, fate has spoken.  He isn't convinced.  They then go to the Waldorf-Astoria and both take separate elevators.  If they both pick the same floor, then fate has intervened even quicker.  They do indeed pick the same floor, but a dorky little kid pushes all the buttons in Jonathan's elevator and he just misses her.  Five years pass and the star-crossed lovers are both engaged to someone else.  I was just about to spoil what happens next, but love the movie too much to do so, and want you to check it out for yourself, if you're so inclined.  It's beautiful.  Maybe I'll even let you come on over and watch with me. 

One of my favorite lines in the movie is spoken by Jonathan's best friend.  He says, "You know the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They only asked one question after a man died: 'Did he have passion?'".   Amen.  This movie is all about passion.  And fate.  And taking chances.  Check it out. Thanks for listening.

Let It Snow . . .

I borrowed this picture from another blog.  I took my own pictures, but somehow am missing my memory card to transfer them.  Thanks, Google!

"Wherever you go, there you are", the saying goes.  It's one of my favorites.  Sometimes I use it to point out that a change of location won't necessarily make one's personal problems go away.  (And ain't that the truth?!?) This time however, I am just ruminating on how the things I love when I'm at home, I especially appreciate when I'm away on vacation. 

I married into a family that likes to have fun, both at home and on the road.  After joining this family, I learned the joy of the road trip.  And yes, I mean the joy.  I love that feeling of having the checklist done, the house locked up, the dog being taken care of by awesome neighbors, and that sense of adventure as we pull out of the driveway.  We tend to start our trips with a mighty "woo-hoo", which helps dispel any tension that has invariably accumulated because of that darn checklist.  Vacation is a lot of work; a lot of planning and packing and phone calls to make and arrangements to be made.  About a year ago, I created a printout entitled "Vacation" so I don't have to endlessly list the minutiae that needs to go with us when we take off.  Camera, batteries, snacks, sleeping bags, books, movies, music, oh . . . and clothes!  I have given up trying to plan for the exact amount of clothes for myself.  Inevitably I end up with not enough underwear or socks when I do that.  My checklist has a spot to mark the number of days to plan for, but I just throw in extra of everything to make sure.  This used to drive E nuts, but then a few years ago, Santa took pity on me and got us all our own duffel bags so my overpacking is less noticeable.  (I still pat myself on the back for that stroke of genius.)

Last year, before my father-in-law became terminally ill, my wonderful in-laws purchased a timeshare in Big Bear.  It's fun going back to the same place year after year, especially when it is now officially "ours".  Pulling in last night, my mother-in-law insisted that we take the master bedroom.  I was horrified.  Yes, there's three of us and only one of her now, but still.  Symbolically, he is still with us.  I went out to pull more stuff out of the car and let a few tears fall.  His loss is still right around every corner, reminding me that he is not physically around anymore.  I wonder when the hurt will lessen?

But the point of my ramblings today wasn't to get all emo about death, but to just say that all the stuff I love at home, I love up here in the mountains.  Food, books, movies, gorgeous scenery and fun with family and friends.  I packed three books, my journal, laptop, ipod and favorite beverages.  I officially retired my skiis a few years ago after getting to the bottom of a run and turning to my in-laws and stating that I ****ing hated skiing and was finished.  Sweet, optimistic mom insisted that I was just so good at it and couldn't fathom that I was really done with it all.  My father-in-law just chuckled and bought me a drink at the lodge.  Seriously folks, I have skiied since 1988 and have never loved it.  Never.  The acquisition of the ipod helped create a diversion in my head from the fear and frustration of the lifts and other people coming up behind me too closely and the cold and uncomfortable boots, but not enough.  I finally made my stand and have stuck by it.  Our son is still at the age where he wants me to join him in everything he enjoys.  He was angry with me when he found out I wasn't going on the slopes.  "You might as well have stayed home!" he stated.  What and miss out on my music, books, movies and scenery up here?  Not to mention the freedom of having the day to myself.  They are having fun up there and I am having just as much fun here.  I drove to the store to stock up on a few more supplies before the storm hit and took the "scenic" route.  (One of these days, I'm going to get a GPS!) The store was a madhouse, with everyone stocking up for the next few days. 

My heart and head constantly go back to my dear friends at home who are going through tough times right now, but there's nothing I can do about them except send them love and prayers.  In the meantime, I will crank up this awesome Seal song and start the water for the pasta.  Those hard-playing-athletic people of mine are gonna be hungry.  Thanks for listening.

Escapes to Alternate Realities

About a week ago, one of my best friends said that he was no longer interested in reading fiction, feeling that those authors merely fed our "fantasies and delusions".  I told him that I guess I could live with that.  My mind hasn't let that statement go, however, working the arguments over and over.  Fantasies and delusions.  What awakens us from our delusions?  A dose of a different reality?  Can't books do that? Wake us up to a new idea or thought process? And as for fantasies, what's wrong with those, as long as we are able to live day to day with the reality of now?  Fantasies are our brains way of escaping into the world of "what if".  Granted, if one refuses to leave that world, or refuses to accept what really is, escape can be an unhealthy thing.  TV and movies are distractions from the reality of our lives. (Ones I admit to enjoying from time to time.) Drugs and alcohol can do this as well, though I can't advocate them. Too much pain and sadness can come from these, not only in the lives of the user, but in the lives of those who love them. Filling up one's own life with the drama of others is yet another avenue away from focusing on our own challenges and blessings.  Reliving the past over and over is boulder worthy of Sisyphus, a cycle hard to escape.  Choosing to read instead of doing chores and writing bills can have unpleasant consequences.  Being a grown-up means choosing the right time and place for the things we have control over.  The rest comes as it will.

Books have long been my escape.  A sickly child, the smog often kept me indoors.  Diagnosed with asthma at age two, I spent countless hours in the car going to doctor's visits, allergy shots, and to the emergency room.  The library and I became good friends very early.  If I didn't have the books, I'd be a totally different person.  Books can put you in a different place, a different time, sometimes in a different universe!  If anything, I have become more empathetic towards the experiences and feelings of others, because I have been inside the heads of thousands of different people, going through countless experiences that I will probably never encounter in my own reality. As I have matured, non-fiction books have interested me more, but when I want to read for pure enjoyment, there's nothing like a story to transport me. 

When I was young, I threw myself wholeheartedly into the adventures of Laura Ingles Wilder and her life on the prairie.  I know these books are based on her true experiences, but they are still categorized as historical fiction.  Homesteading was a grueling and often heartbreaking way of life, and one that has always fascinated this Southern California girl.  Imagine killing a hog and using every piece of it, including the bladder as a little ball to play with (as described in Little House on the Prairie.)  My last public library audio acquisition was Hattie Big Sky by Kirby Larson.  Again, I picked the title because we had the book in my middle school library and I feel it is my sworn duty to know as much as I can about my collection.  (Good excuse, right?!?)

 Hattie is 16, an orphan who has been bounced from house to house, taken in by (sometimes) well-meaning relatives.  It is 1918 and her friends are enlisting to serve in WW1 to "fight the Kaiser". Hattie's overbearing Aunt has just volunteered her services as a chambermaid when Hattie receives news that an Uncle Chester she has never met has died and left his Montana claim to her. Hattie jumps at the chance to have her own place and get out from under the thumb of her ever-disapproving Aunt.   The book is written in the first person narrative and is generously sprinkled with letters Hattie writes to her friend (and secret crush) Charlie, her Uncle Holt, and to her hometown newspaper, as she recalls the trials and tribulations she encounters as a homesteader.  She has less than a year to "settle the claim" which includes fencing and planting and harvesting 40 of the 320 acres she has been given.

The book alternately made me smile and cry.  The antics of her persnickety cow and the neighboring children were interspersed with incidences of German-American citizens being unjustly accused of being enemies of the country and death by influenza.  She encounters bullies as well as the most loving people you could hope to have as neighbors.  There was more than once that I was glad that my waterproof mascara didn't let me down as I drove into work. 

So again, I will keep reading what I want to read and let others read what they want to read.  That's what makes the literary world go round, right?  As I was proofreading this piece and getting ready to post it, I turned over my "Simple Abundance" daily calendar.  Here is what it said:

 "Accepting our circumstances is a powerful tool for transformation.  Acceptance is surrendering to what is:  our feelings, our problems, the delay of our dreams.  Acceptance allows the steam of struggle to escape from life's pressure cooker." 

I love living in my reality where there are no coincidences.  Thanks for listening.