Author: gypsywoman

Jacob and I walked down to the end of the street this morning for the Sunday morning “Flea Market”. It was wonderful to get out into the cool morning air. It had been so hot in Redding. I am loving the beginning of Autumn.

The first thing that caught my eye was an old rocking horse. Something that has probably made some child or children very happy during the course of its rocking horse life. It brought a smile to me, in its seemingly well loved and charming way. At least that’s how I imagined it. There was a teapot in blue and white…a display of Betty Boop figurines…something that looked like it was inspired by an African mask.  I’m noticing now that the things that stood out to me were things that delighted the little girl in me. 

The whole thing was a little dusty and haphazard in my experience. Many of the displays did not  look particularly doted upon or well arranged.(Although, I did like the Betty Boop display.) But that’s flea markets. Yet here, in the middle of the mish-mash  and castaways were small wonders to look upon. You had to care enough to look. It was all fine by me. I had come for the walk and the fresh air. The curiosities were a bonus.

 “I wonder why people come here,” my husband mused. “They come here because they might find that one treasure.” I said, which he appreciated. They probably also go to  get out of the house and banter with one another. A ritual Sunday morning community gathering.

 “Well said,” he answered. “Maybe that’s why we all come here.” He made a gesture with his hands indicating the world at large…the bigger picture. “To find that one treasure.”

Yes. Perhaps. And if we become curious enough to notice one treasure in our lives, perhaps we grow to appreciate another and another. Then we’re on our way to becoming grateful human beings. And that…that’s magic.

I phoned  my mother afterward and, conveyed along by a train of thought, wondered aloud why it is called a “Flea Market.” I Googled it and found this explanation:

“Flea market comes from the French marché aux puces, a name originally given to a market in Paris. The fleas were thought to be in the goods because they were the kind to attract vermin. The earliest English use we have found dates from 1922.”

In a world where we’re attempting to turn around a trend of disposable things and growing landfills, and a world where people seem to have been talking to each other less and less, maybe the old idea of a Flea Market has a doubly rightful place. There would certainly be stories behind all that “stuff” if it could talk! (I didn’t see any actual fleas or vermin, also a bonus.)

So now it is Sunday afternoon and have told you all about my morning. I hope you are having a lovely Sunday, yourself, and finding many things to be thankful for. I am grateful for a cinnamon roll this morning and signs of autumn and I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful for the bit of sunrise Jake called me over to see from the front door this morning, and for the few moments we stood together to take it in. I am grateful for phone calls with my mother. I am grateful for the walnut tree waving in celebration outside my window as I type this. I am grateful for whimsical things and silly things. I am grateful for you finding your way to my blog so I can say “hello.” 

I am noticing that sometimes it can be the very small things that help keep me connected to the joy in my life:

Washing the breakfast dishes…one glass, one plate, one fork at a time. Warm running water and soap. And then shining up the kitchen sink afterward. 

A warm shower. Washing my hair.

Putting on some pretty earrings…maybe even a little lipstick.

This morning I brushed my teeth with a brand new toothbrush head for my electric toothbrush. 

Washing the bedsheets and making my bed up fresh.

Small things that bring a little comfort and order to the moment. 

A cup of coffee.

(Did I mention a cup of coffee?)

A powerfully written passage in a really good book that makes me want to stop and read it again. And then again.

A text from a friend.

Looking out the window in the evening and watching how the sky is changing.

Lighting a candle. Saying a little prayer. Gratitude. Thanks is a prayer. Help and Wow are also prayers. (I learned this from Anne Lamott. Smart lady.)

Laughter. I’ve discovered that a real laugh is a banishing spell for evil spirits, whatever form they’re taking. Whenever I find myself actually laughing out loud, it’s like a reset button. A belly laugh shakes everything loose. 

Nothing monumental. Nothing earth shattering. Right? And really, nothing new. But these things, if I let them, can help keep me grounded and centered…and present to whatever is happening. More open. 

Sometimes life comes in huge, amazing leaps: finding ourselves in love, getting married, ending a relationship, having a child, moving, buying or selling a house, starting a new job, leaving a job behind, facing a loss. Those happen, and they definitely move us into a brand new place. It’s good, too, to notice the everyday miracles…the things that give us space to breathe on a day to day basis. Those are the things that nourish us for when the time for the “big leap” arrives. A simple cup of tea can be medicine for depression…so can a song.

“Have you never been happy, just to hear your song?,” Olivia Newton John would sing. (I’m telling my age now, but I’ve told it before.) I hadn’t heard that song in such a long, long time. Then, one day, out of nowhere, I heard it in a shopping mall at a time when I was feeling so lost and alone it felt like it was  suffocating me. The song buoyed me up. It said, to me, that the universe was hearing me. It gave me just a little space to listen to my own heart. You might not call that a miracle. But to me, in that moment, it was absolutely miraculous. 

These are the things that can get missed…or pushed aside. We call it coincidence and walk on. These are also the little things that, if we’re present to them, can guide us. They can remind us how supported we are and what’s worth appreciating.

When was the last time you just let yourself be confused for a little while? Or just let yourself rest and listen? When was the last time you simply said “yes” to however you were feeling and didn’t try to fix it right away? We live in a world that is sometimes so loud we can’t hear ourselves over it. We don’t even really know how we feel because we’re running roughshod over that to try to get to where we’re going. That is…where we think we’re going.

I, for my part, have just enjoyed a dark chocolate mocha and I’m sitting here writing this note, which is every bit as much for myself as it is for you, Dear Reader. When I’m finished with this, I’m going to read a bit from The Illusion of Money by Kyle Cease because it speaks to what I need right now. 

In some ways it’s rather simple, right?:

Eat when you’re hungry, rest when you’re tired, be kind to yourself when you’re feeling sad or overwhelmed or lost or confused. Let yourself be exactly where you are. Just for now. Because it will change. Guaranteed.

How gentle can I be with myself? How much can allow myself to be honest and raw? How much can I allow myself to tell the truth. The truth of joy…and the truth of sorrow, too? How much can I allow myself to just have fun? And how much can I allow myself to breathe and be all right? Right now. Just the way things are. Without “fixing” a thing? 

How nonsensical is it that we don’t allow ourselves to do these things? Instead we hide ourselves away from what might heal us. We hide ourselves away from discovering how supported we can be in the world; and how like one another we actually are. We spend so much time putting up a “good front”. We spend a lot of time trying to “look okay.” And you know what? It’s exhausting. Not only that, it cuts us off from actually being okay. Telling the truth is a balm. 

I’ve heard it said that if we could each read one another’s stories…the whole unvarnished thing, we would fall in love…every time. I believe that.

We protect ourselves, each one, from everyone else. Isn’t that laughable, when you think about it? At least, this is what I’ve seen. It’s also what I’ve done. I’ve done it as if someone’s bad opinion would actually kill me. I’ve done it as if I didn’t belong in the world; and as if I were the only one who didn’t. That’s insanity. Hiding out from the world is insanity. Staying locked in dread is insanity. 

So here I am, trying to find my way in the world and sometimes feeling a bit wobbly. I’m finding out it’s not that unusual a thing. It’s not uncommon. A lot of us, if not most of us, are trying to look “sure” when we’re not. We’re playing it by ear. And if we’re lucky, some of us learn to dance. We learn to be guided by something that isn’t guilt or fear.

What I’m finding out is that falling into being completely willing to screw up frees me. It frees me to be as I am, who I am, what I am…whatever that is. It frees me up to find out what that is. Being willing to make mistakes is freedom. Being willing to embarrass myself is freedom., And I am amazed to find that I slowly become more competent, not less.  

I grew up not being able to laugh at myself much at all. I’m changing that. Bit by bit, one step at a time, I’m changing that. I’m learning not to be so closed off. 

Dignity and self-respect are inside jobs. Everyone seems to “know” that. It gets said. The thing is, in my case at least, I had forgotten to actually live that way. 

When I can love myself through whatever happens, no matter what happens, that’s dignity. That’s power. When I can finally forgive myself for botching up whatever I’ve botched up and admit how much it hurt, that’s dignity. That’s standing up again. That’s coming out of hiding. The miracle is that there is no botching it up, because whatever happened before is what brought me here. This is how kind life is. When I can appreciate my life, just the way it is…that too, is self respect. And that’s cause for celebration.

When I honor my own heart I am more available to honor yours. That’s connection. I have to risk if I want to meet you in that place. I have to risk if I want to talk about what’s important to me, and to actually hear what’s important to you. 

Today I am learning about frustration…and patience. I opened a can of worms having something to do with wanting to change the “name” of my iPhone. Don’t even ask. 

Well, okay…I’ll answer: it began when I was borrowing Jake’s wireless earbuds. (They’re nice…from Bose.) Some little quirk in me didn’t like the thing’s little electronic voice saying it had connected to “Jake’s iPhone” and then just calling mine “iPhone”. I know. Right? How silly.

Anyway, first I couldn’t remember the exact answers to my Apple security questions to be able to go in and make such a change. I mean, I knew the answers, but not exactly how I had typed them in. There were possible variations. Jake was trying to help me, but when it came to this part, the right answer wasn’t coming. So…I played with it. I played with it over and over again until the iPhone finally shut me out of trying. And then it said there wasn’t sufficient  information to reset my security questions. 

I thought this meant I was shut out of anything I needed to do that required my Apple security information forever. (It doesn’t. It means about eight hours.)

That’s what I found out after talking to a very amiable and infinitely patient woman at Apple Support. (Her name was Elizabeth.) I was on the phone with her for maybe 20 minutes all in all, (maybe even a little more), and I talked through what was happening with her and she walked me through trying to clear it up. “Try again tomorrow,” was the final verdict. I was only shut out temporarily. I can try to reset those security questions in the morning. And she sent me an email with a case number on it (in case I need it later).

All of that, by the way, was after I had first pulled up Safari and searched Apple Support and stumbled upon a very general kind of “answer” site (all kinds of answers!) and signed up for a membership and  then talked to a gentleman named Pradip for awhile. He was very kind, and he did know techy stuff about Apple and iPhone support…but what I discovered was that I was not talking to the people I thought I was talking to at all. (A little embarrassing, but okay. I’m getting a feel for handling these things myself. I’ve had a habit of letting Jake handle the stuff that requires phone calls and research like this. I’m stretching a little. So I’m forgiving myself. The next time will be better.) The best Pradip was able to do in a case like this was to give me the number to Apple Support. (Which was what I actually wanted in the first place.) 

All this just to do a little thing like naming my device. Still, it was a good experience.

I was letting myself play with finding my own way around it, and I learned some things. Patience with myself. Patience with the process. Patience with doing one thing, and then the next, and then the next…until the answer comes. So there is a certain sense of accomplishment, even though it took awhile. Even though it wasn’t a straight route.

Every tiny thing that shows me what I can do lifts me up a little. I’m just that much stronger, and I’m just that much more competent. There’s something in my heart that just gets excited and giggles inside. “Remember that.” Remember that trial and error and mistakes are not the end of the world. Breathe. Be happy. Celebrate the little victories. Don’t negate them. Don’t belittle them. 

Every single thing that teaches me to forgive myself helps make me stronger, too. Isn’t that something? We don’t get stronger by being beaten down…or by beating ourselves down. Forgiveness has a lot of power in it. 

Update on the second day: It didn’t work. Today, I was still getting the message that there wasn’t sufficient information to reset the security questions on my iPhone. I called back. Long story short, my phone is now set up with “two factor authentication”; no more messing around with security questions. It’s funny to see how the people in Apple support seemed to be feeling around this, not quite sure what had happened, the same way I was. So, it seems as if we are all learning something.

The other thing was that both Jake and I looked around this morning for “where” there was a place to create or change the “name” of my iPhone to something other than “iPhone”. No dice. Readers, I am laughing at myself and what the universe is teaching me. If you have read this far, to the end of this saga, thanks for taking the ride with me.

A message from Spirit that I hope may speak to you, as well. We are all part of the human condition:

What are you learning?

What are you learning about your own innocence…about the innocence of the world?

What are you learning about forgiveness?

What are you learning about love…about the nature of love…where it comes from?

What are you learning about resistance? What is the nature of resistance? What is the nature of the brick walls in your life…the ones that have seemed to block you from what you want…or from moving forward?

My desire is that you pay attention. My desire is that you remember how free you are…awaken to how free you are. Awaken to the power in that.

You are love, child. You are love and you are loved. Everything you want lives inside you. The courage you want lives inside you, burning like a fire…ready. You only need to be willing to accept it.

You only need to investigate all your excuses. Investigate what’s been hurting you. Investigate the stories you have been telling yourself…all those stories that have been protecting you, but also keeping you small…keeping you from your experience of power.

Find your small steps to the edge…and a little past the edge. 

Name what you want.

The time has come for you when all the recycled words about it are not enough. What has served you in the past is no longer serving. It is growing into the next thing. I know you may not see how. All you need to do is say “yes”. Keep saying yes. This has been since the first days of the journey into your freedom…and you have done the best you were able until now. You have seen the gifts from that. Continue, sweetheart. Simply continue. A little further into yes…and a little further. The Divine Father walks with you. The Divine Mother whispers in your heart. Listen. Everything you require is within you.

There is nothing to prove. Ignore what you’ve thought you had to prove…and what you’ve failed to prove…and where you thought you’d fallen short. Pay attention to what you desire with your whole heart. Those are your signposts. That’s your GPS.

Take your time, child. Go at your own pace. Honor your pace. But say yes to your yes. Call out for the help you need.

I have a friend who is in the hospital right now getting treatment for cancer. The cancer has recently moved into his brain. He’s been having a tough time speaking and writing. Things have been getting muddled and blurred together; but he is so very courageous. As long as I’ve known him he has been courageous. He has never seemed to me to get stuck in pretense. He is who he is. He is not one to seek approval or to hide. He is true to himself, which is risky. It can knock you down sometimes. He is open…and he is vulnerable in a way that I would also like to be. He is a teacher for me. And the result is that many have gathered around him who love him for exactly who he is. 

As I sat down to write this afternoon, I asked myself a question: “What’s important to me today?” 

This is. He is. His beautiful heart and this whole crazy human experience is. Love is. 

There are those who say there is no such thing as love. There are those who say we make it up. We dream it. I have been told that we are desperately painting love onto a canvas of black emptiness in order to feel better. 

Maybe it’s all true. How do I really know? If it is, I still wouldn’t miss the experience for anything. Let it be. The miracle is that there can be love at all, simply because we say so. There can be love because it’s felt…it moves us. There can be love because this strange dream brings it to us in full living color. It catches our breath. We are somehow held by it. 

Love is the greater context, as best I can tell, in which everything, everything, everything is constantly happening. It’s not just the things we call “good” or “happy” or “kind” or “just”. The whole confusing, beautiful mess is love…somehow. 

Somehow. 

The things that hurt are love. The things that break our hearts are love. What a kick in the head, right? Because that means there is a place of forgiving everything. We balk at that. I have certainly balked at that, myself. It can’t all be okay. That’s much too chaotic an idea. It feels like anarchy. It feels dangerous. 

You know what it feels like? It feels like loss of control. 

Look around you, though. Look at your life. Look at your own journey and the ways you’ve gotten stronger. Look at the ways you know how to be tender or strong or generous or brave because you know what it’s like to struggle. 

I’m saying I call that love. Love did that. 

So, today…this is my little love note to my buddy.

I am find I am sort of following up on my Barnes and Noble thoughts today…

Sometimes I find myself in a mental loop. I think maybe I can do a thing, like sitting here and writing, and at the same time I fuss and worry that I’m doing it wrong.. How crazy is that? It’s a circle…a self-perpetuating “issue”. 

I’ve heard some people call it “trying to solve a problem from the level of the problem” or, even more consisely, “an unwinnable game.” Ever been there?

What can I do with that besides sit and stare at the cursor on my computer and choke? Every now and then I get so tired of listening to my own story. So, then…what?

Find another story to tell? Laugh? Scream? Pray for grace? Sit at the computer with my hands on the keyboard and type whatever may come to mind (which is pretty much what I’m doing right now)?  

Here’s another suggestion I just read from an author named Rhonda Douglas: create a ritual. Rhonda says she lights a candle and invites the muse. I think that’s a lovely idea. There’s something grounding about ritual. I’m finding the quote I added here from Rumi can help settle me in.

I pick up little clues along the way from those who have gone before: for instance, that all of this is okay. Even that it doesn’t always feel okay is still perfectly okay. Martha Beck speaks about that. There is a wise grace to our difficult feelings…in feelings of failure, too. There is a certain intuitive intelligence to them. They’re part of what creates a full and complete life, especially when we really tap in. What a deep, compassionate place we can find for ourselves when we give in to that. 

Thank heaven there is more than, say, sunshine and ice cream all the time. Just the idea has me feeling sick and sunburned. It’s actually pretty obvious life has a better way. Still, in those moments when I might be actively looking for sunshine and ice cream (instead of checking out the thunderstorm that’s actually happening), I can tend to forget that we’re here to explore all of it.

On the day I am writing this, I am sitting in a Barnes and Noble. I am absorbing the atmosphere of words and the scent of books. I am having an iced coffee on this hot summer day…typing onto the blank page to see what might come out. I want to let myself to follow something into the unknown. 

At this moment, I am an open channel…waiting…curious.

I let myself relax and follow the current. See what rises. See what moves through my heart…and through my noticing.

 I hear the soft sounds of muffled conversation over coffee. There are sounds of orders being placed and names being called. I find myself reminding myself to be careful not to overhear. (Be respectful; don’t be invasive. Attention is my purpose here…not rudeness.)  There is a couple speaking softly. I see the wife has a stack of travel books. Another woman is talking to what appear to be her daughters as they choose something to read. Some other women are laughing together. The sounds blend together. They’re somehow comforting. Human interaction. Human connection. 

Of course, there are also those bent over their “devices”, just as I sometimes am; being pulled out of the world around them into a different sort of world…the electronic world of pixels and text messages and scrolling. Though I do have my computer in front of me, this feels qualitatively different right now. 

It is interesting to consciously be present in this world. It is interesting to breathe, and not to rush. It is interesting to let my mind rest and be okay here. 

I look around. Science and Nature. Crafts and Hobbies. Biography. History. Women’s Interests. Science Fiction. Fantasy and Adventure. Historical Fiction. Mystery and Thrillers. Business. Romance. Health and Wellness. The list goes on and on. Homer’s Iliad, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Harry Potter are prominent in the signage.  All around me there are so many with something to say…something they wanted to share with the world. So many voices calling out…beckoning. I find I am grateful for this world of language.

I also notice it feels like I have been interfacing with an interesting phenomenon as I type: if I think I have to or need to or should do a thing…the wind tends to go out of my sails. It suddenly becomes less fun and I become less interested. Resistance rears its procrastinating, stubborn head. The child comes out in protest: “I don’t want to!” I’m finding there’s a slippery balance between discipline and spontaneity. I want to be dedicated. I also want what I’m doing to be fresh…otherwise it’s pretty useless. 

Right now, I am looking for the place where this balance is found.

It is fascinating to me, the way a life happens. It can’t be forced into a box. There can be intention. There can be a vision. Still…there are always surprises. What life hasn’t had surprises? What life has ever gone exactly as expected? Expectation is practically a dirty word, it gets us into all kinds of trouble. Not to mention that the vision can move and change and shift. Then there’s a new vision and a new path. 
Plot twist!

It has seemed to beg the question: What am I supposed to do? I’ve wondered that over and over again. What am I being called to? Why does my life look the way it does? Why does it seem so messy and strange and random and nonsensical? Where is it supposed to go? What is my destiny? Which has turned out, for me, to be a rather humorous basket of queries.

What if what I’m “supposed” to do is exactly what I’m doing? Always. Moment by moment by moment. What if I couldn’t possibly be doing anything else? Because, hey, that’s what’s happening, right? Just look…the truth of it is right here, right now. (Is there anything else but right now?) 

What shows up…whatever is actually in front of me…is called “grace”. At least this has been my experience. I know it may sound crazy, but my thoughts, my decisions, my desires, my goals…whatever else they may appear to be; they are also grace. They’re given. They’re handed to me from someplace I don’t understand. (Where do they come from, anyway? They seem to rise up out of nowhere.) They’re gifts that give momentum to this life.

I used to crave being safe. Now, it seems to be something more like “learning to become comfortable being uncomfortable” is the way…because not knowing is the truth. 

I don’t know about tomorrow. I don’t know about five minutes from now. Living anxiously on pins and needles doesn’t seem to make anything any better. So I am going about learning a new way. I don’t claim to have it all “figured out”. (I don’t even care for that phrase anymore. It doesn’t seem to resonate with the way things actually work.) Still, a new way seems to be happening…all at its own pace.

A friend asks what I’m seeking. There could be a lot of words for it. Freedom. Peace. Authenticity. Reality. God. 

Maybe the answer is “nothing”. Maybe I’m not seeking anything at all anymore because I can see that all I have, and all I need, is actually right in front of me. It’s already here, nurturing me. Reality is here. It always has been. I don’t have to look for it. Maybe I’m not seeking anything anymore because I’ve become okay with not needing to answer every question. Maybe some things were never meant to be solved. Maybe it’s more fun to leave my heart open to mystery and smile.

So here I sit, trying to create an “authentic” life. (Whatever that means, which seems to come down to whatever it means to me.) Sometimes it’s a lot of fun, like a toy or a game or just dancing; and at other times it starts to feel very serious and important…even grave.  It’s all changing weather reports. Changing thoughts and emotions. All the while, somehow, everything is fine. How could it not be? The current running underneath it all, carrying it all, is bigger than myself. It knows the way down the river.

The river is not separate from me. Reality is not separate from me. I can’t go the wrong way.

Begin. Most of the time it feels like that’s the most difficult part.

The conversation in my head goes like this:

“Begin what?”

 “Begin where?”

 “I don’t know how.”

It sounds like:

 “To what purpose?”

“Where am I going?”

“What’s the point?”

“What’s expected of me?”

“How do I get this right?”

Interesting. Is someone actually expecting anything?

What if you let it show up exactly the way it does? What if you’re not trying to go anywhere in particular…except past this place where you haven’t been moving? What if where you’re going shows up in the process. 

What if you just…begin? 

Type a word. Type two. See if the dam begins to break. See if something comes trickling out.

“What if it’s silly?”

“What if it doesn’t make any sense?”

“What if it’s awful?”

If you really think it’s that bad, you can keep it to yourself. No one ever has to know. How could you hurt yourself by playing with it?

“No one will care.”

You will!  You will have taken a step past your fear. 

Begin.

“What if I hate it?”

“What if they hate it?”

Then you will have learned something. Won’t you? And if you put it out there and everybody laughs or scoffs or rolls their eyes…tell me something:

Will you die?

Begin.

A friend of mine suggested that I write “two lousy pages a day” as a way of creating a habit. Two pages. Good, bad, indifferent. Doesn’t matter. Just allow myself to play with it.  That means I get to take a deep breath because, hey, it doesn’t have to turn out “great”. I can give myself a break. All I need to do is to put my tush in a chair and type…and see.  This is what I have heard certain writers call “showing up.” I like the idea…a lot…and I am hereby dedicating myself to this practice.

This same friend also suggests I look at what’s most important to me and get curious about it. He suggests I do research to build my competency muscles. I can get stronger at knowing I can carry myself in the world. I can learn to navigate things I think I don’t know instead of being at the mercy of being unsure. I can be a student of my life. So, I’m investigating what that might look like. 

What do I want to know about? Where have I been afraid to tread?

If what I want is to eventually get a book written…what would I like to write about? What do I need to get clear about first? Why am I writing, anyway? Deep down…what’s my purpose for sitting in the chair?

Eventually, it would be nice to make some money at writing, somehow, certainly. No doubt. And I’ve realized that making money, as a motivation, will only take me so far. 

I want to connect with people…and I want to open myself up for people to be able to connect with me. This much is clear…and it’s certainly a beginning.  I feel there’s even more. It has something to do with being engaged in what I’m doing…being absorbed and interested. 

So I would love to hear from you: What motivates you? What’s most important to you? What are you most curious about?