A Pocket Full Of Feathers

They’ve been popping up everywhere.  Slightly curled and snow-white, some small and downy, others larger and a bit more robust.  I find them laying in our yards, and scattered all along the walking trail, like angelic bread crumbs.

White Heron feathers.

It’s my habit to put things in my pocket when I walk, and the feathers are no different.  A small handful in a dish sits in my living room where I can see it regularly.  These feathers are a reminder.  An affirmation.

Having walked this neighborhood for three years, finding an abundance of these particular feathers everywhere is unusual although seeing the birds themselves isn’t.  There are several waterways nearby and herons fly over head regularly.  I caught this big guy – a Blue Heron – hanging out with a couple of buddies a few months back.

Herons are rich in symbolism and no one does Animal Speak better than Avia over at What’s Your Sign.  If you have a moment, hitch a ride over to her place on this LINK and check out the full spectrum of Heron Symbolism.  You’ll understand why finding so many of these feathers is nothing less than supercalifragilistic during this season in my life.

Today I wrap up my first week at Habitat For Humanity, and – in a word –  it’s been AWESOME.  The work itself is rewarding and fun.  But more than that, it’s the people I’m working with that is so exciting.  I’m still getting to know everyone but I can already tell these are some great folks.  Most of them are volunteers, under 30, and really love what they are doing.  After a decade working in a toxic waste dump, this is like heaven!

I also attended the first of The Write Page writer’s group meetings.  Held 20160511_200607_resizedat the Katie Wheeler Library, an old Victorian built by an Irish immigrant who turned out to be the grand daddy of our county, it’s a combination of so many things I just love! About 30 of us ranging from 18 to 80….newbie college kids to old-time journalists and representing at least a half-dozen nationalities…all share the common bond of loving the written word.  I’m already learning so much and can’t wait for the next meeting!

My tribe – my NEW tribe – is coming together.  My new life is coming together, too.  The feeling is indescrible after such a long, solitary and difficult season.  Sure, there are still bits to add to the picture – a great paying part-time job, for one – but I know it’s coming.  I know.  Grace is surrounding me.

My peeps and a pocket full of feathers.  What a great day to be alive.  Think I’ll go for a walk before work.

Who knows what I might find.

Magic Made Easy

20150619_144216_resizedA long time ago, there was a young girl – aged 10 or so – who spent hour upon hour alone in her room . This wasn’t a bad thing, really.  Alone was a comfortable way for her to be, even though she sometimes wondered what the other little girls in the neighborhood were doing.

Were they playing “house” or dolls or swimming at the beach?  Were their heads bent close together, conspirators sharing secrets about boys and their changing bodies and their common dislike of the new girl?

Sometimes, thinking about the other girls made her sad.  But mostly, she didn’t mind being alone in her room at all, for it was there that something quite magical happened

She became Someone Else

The Magic started the minute she carefully gathered all of her dolls and stuffed animals, and put them in a circle.  Once they were seated just so, she gave each of them a name.  There was Sally and Mark, Kathy and Susan, Brian and Diane.  Each had their own name, with their own “desk”, and their own writing paper with their names written on it in big, bold crayon letters.

The girl spoke their names often to the dolls and animals.  She wanted them to know that they were important to her, and acknowledge that she saw them.  Being “seen” is a very special gift to receive.  Maybe the best ever   When someone sees you, you know that you exist.  You know that people want you around and that they like you.  It makes you feel special, and maybe even a little bit taller.

Oh, and having someone call you by your name was extra special – especially when it was pronounced right! She knew this because, more often than not, people called her by the wrong name – sometimes over and over and over again, no matter how long she had been in their class or heard it pronounced correctly.

And whenever she was called by something other than her own name, her heart dropped.  She imagined it happened because she wasn’t important enough for the person to remember to spell it right and to say it right.

This it made her feel very small, like there was something wrong with her.  Something Weird.  And being Weird was awful.  Weird kids didn’t have many friends, and were picked last for the handball teams.

So when she was alone in her room, she would give herself a new name.  One that was easily pronounced, commonly spelled, and more like those of other girls.  It was a name that would get her invited to slumber parties, or asked to play.  It was a powerful name because it

Made

Her

Fit

In

She called herself  “Jane”.

Miss Jane was the best teacher in the whole world!  Not only did she remember the names of each of her students correctly, she carefully prepared papers with dashed lines and math problems so they could practice drawing their letters and adding numbers.

Sure, she might scold one for talking too much in class, but she hugged the children a lot and carefully glued innumerable stars – red and green and gold – on their school work so they knew how special they were.  Stars told them what a good job they were doing.

Naturally, all of her students loved her, and knew her name, too.  Miss Jane was their favorite person in the whole world!  It wasn’t until after those magical hours came to an end, when she left the safety of her bedroom to go to school, that the little girl was reminded – over and over again – how different she was. How weird.  How she didn’t fit in.

She was reminded by the snickers when the teacher would stumble over her name for the millionth time.  She was reminded when all the other little girls, save for her and “retarded Kim”, were invited to an after-school party just down the street.

She was reminded when her mother and father asked her to be quiet, to go play in the other room, and to leave them alone talk and to drink.  Or when she had a bad dream, and no one came to comfort her.

When she grew older, the woman used a made up name – one easily pronounced, commonly spelled, and more like those of other women – when she met new men in bars.  At least the ones she knew she wouldn’t spend more than just the night with.

When she grew older still, and married a man with a weird, unusual last name, she had children.  The woman gave those children names that were easily pronounced, commonly spelled, and more like those of other kids.  There wasn’t much she could do about the last name, although she hoped her daughter could eventually change hers through marriage.

When she grew old,  the woman grew to appreciate her name and to cherish it’s uniqueness – correcting or ignoring the mispronouncing of it, depending on her mood.  And even though she’d spent innumerable hours alone in her room reading and writing, learning and  healing her broken bits (you know the ones…the ones that make you feel unwanted and unimportant), she still found herself making that certain magic at times.

It happened every time the barista asked for a name to write on the paper cup, or when the saleswoman asked her name so she could write it on the dressing room door – to make her shopping experience more personal…to make her feel special.

It happened every time she placed a fast food order, created a user name, or was in some situation where it was just easier to be someone else.  To be more common.  To be more like others.

She told them, “Jane”.

The Voices In My Head

voices“You’ll never publish a book!”

“Your idea isn’t anything good.”

“Starting your own business is too hard.  The economy is bad.”

“You’re too old to do this.”

Sound familiar?

That’s the voice of an Inner Critic.  Specifically, mine.

Are you acquainted with the Inner Critic? It’s that niggling little voice in your head that brings discouragement, disappointment and defeat every chance it gets.

There isn’t a person I know that hasn’t done some hard time with their I.C.  Even the most beautiful, accomplished, intelligent people battle negative thinking that threatens to undermine their self-confidence.  And while it’s not my intent to analyze where that Voice comes from or who it sounds like (Moms already get blamed for more than their fair share), I do know a few things about it:

Inner Critics (ICs) don’t fight fair!  They practice Guerrilla Warfare, pouncing on us when we least expect it and are most vulnerable, like at the start of an important project, a healthy habit, or a new relationship.  ICs are Thought Terrorists, and 72 virgins mean nothing to them!  They get off by sabotaging our success.

Inner Critics try to convince us that we’ll never be any good, in spite of a mountain of evidence to the contrary.  Ever just post a great piece of writing and the rave reviews are pouring in, but you find yourself thinking, “Oh, they’re just being nice to me.  I’m not that good.”?

Not only is negative self talk illogical, it shows no mercy.  It’s primary objective is to create feelings of shame and guilt, so it attacks our underbelly:  who we are.   Attacking what we do is secondary.

Inner Critics prey upon our vulnerabilities.  They know all about those sensitive areas we try to keep hidden from the rest of the world (and, at times, ourselves):  Insecurities about our skills.  Embarrassment over our weight or age.  Fear about our lack of experience. And the Mother of All Weak Spots : Our past.

The Inner Critic is the Queen of Mean and she has a very long memory.  Those 10 unfinished projects staring you in the face?  She’ll bring them up.  How about the scathing critique you received on your new book?  Uh huh.  Or what about when that person you really liked, maybe even loved, rejected you?  She’ll throw THAT crap up in your face like a handful of napalm!

Inner criticism is relentless at using real or imagined “failures” to try to accomplish its main objective: to kill our dreams and stop our progress.

So what can we do to protect ourselves from these painful thoughts?  We can

H.A.L.T. THE ASSAULT!

HONOR your journey thus far.  One of the best – and kindest – things we can do for ourselves is to stop feeding the beast inside of us by rehearsing the failures of the past.  Forgive yourself for any mistakes and missteps you’ve made.  EVERYONE screws up. Remember:  You may not be perfect but you are unique and exceptional and of great value.  Don’t fall into the comparison trap by measuring yourself against others.  Everything about you – the good, the bad, and the fugly – make you the person you are today.  The past doesn’t exist anymore.  Why carry yesterdays trash into fresh field of potential called Today?

ACCEPT that the inner critic is there.  Granted, there are a few unusual people out there that appear to be free from  tormenting self-criticism.  I say unusual because the vast majority of us ordinary folk have to deal with this thing. Trying to ignore it, and hoping it will go away, is a recipe for disaster.  Remember, whatever we reject about ourselves, we end up projecting onto others.

If you do not tell the truth about yourself
you cannot tell it about other people.
~ Virginia Woolf ~

So embrace your Inner Critic.  Invite it to lunch, and acknowledge its existence.  Accepting is half the battle and gives us the power to change it.  Denial is a dead-end street.

LET it go.   Seriously!  Just let those thoughts go right on through!  We are not our thoughts.  Our thoughts are like birds flying across the sky of our awareness.  Sure, they may stop momentarily. But we don’t have to let them build nests in our hair.  When the thought, “I’m a terrible writer” flies in, shoo it away!  If you latch onto it, then replay it over and over and over again, it will hunker down and embed itself.  Show it the door as soon as it appears.  It takes some practice to do this, but practice makes… well, you know.

And finally:

TALK to yourselfNo, not in that “Crazy Aunt Martha” sort of way.  Practice affirmations.  Say nice, uplifting things about yourself and about where you want to go in life.  Put little Post-it Notes around that say things like “I know I can accomplish my goals” or “I am a creative person who enjoys great success” or my personal favorite, “I am equipped with everything I need to fulfill my destiny!”

Nothing shuts up the Inner Critic faster than a well-rehearsed Love Fest.  It’s like a force field of positive energy surrounding us.  I like to write my affirmations on the bathroom mirror in lipstick.  How many times a day do you look in the mirror? Turns out it’s actually a pretty terrific place to remind myself of my worth and potential – right there where I can look myself in the eye and sweet talk that b**** into submission.  It’s something I’ve done for years and, since this seems to be an ongoing battle, will continue to do.  Even my daughter does it now!

It’s my belief those negative voices in our heads can be silenced (or seriously stifled) with a little practice and lots of Self Love.   We can HALT THE ASSAULT, and turn the Queen of Mean into our very own Fairy Godmother.  Hers can be the voice that inspires and motivates us to do our best work, to keep pushing forward, and to achieve our goals.

So how about it?  Do YOU have an Inner Critic that needs to be silenced?

I Chose Me

il_570xN.557874558_aln1When I walked into The Boss’ office yesterday morning to pick up my pay, I could see he was down. I had called him Tuesday morning, after much angst, deliberation and a quick phone call to the Husband, and told him I wouldn’t be back.

So much for The New Job.

Turns out, after everything I’ve been through – after all of those months of seeking Divine Guidance and Strength –  I really just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that this New Job was where I was supposed to be.  The Old Woman had convinced me – by her very presence, if not by her words – that there was something more….something better….waiting for me.

Had I forgotten everything I went through last year?  Everything I learned? One of the main issues in my life – the one that manifested itself as a breast cancer last year – was my life long tendency to sacrifice myself to make others more comfortable, to make others feel good.  To make things easier for them.

I’ll never forget one morning shortly after the diagnosis.  I was sitting in bed reading “Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom” by Dr. Christiane Northrup when I read that as far back as the 1800s, the medical literature has noted associations between breast cancer and women with an “overdeveloped nurturance gland”.  (check!)  They have a tendency toward self sacrifice (check!), and are more apt to have a coping strategy characterized by engaging with the problem, confronting it, focusing on it, working on a plan, and lobbying for emotional support in the process. (check! check! CHECK!)

In other words…ME!

It was a huge ass Aha! Moment, and I broke down wept.  Like the woman in the book, I realized that I didn’t have to “get sick or to die in order to rest”.  Right then and there, I promised myself that I wouldn’t do that again.  I would live in balance.  I would take care of me…REALLY care for me.  And I would stop trying to Save The World.

And yet, here I was!  Faced with a job that was FAR from something  soul satisfying and fulfilling, it did meet my financial needs but that was it.  Sure, I could go in and  Save The Day.  I could see that I could have a huge impact for the better, and alleviate a lot of The Boss’ problems (if the Old Woman “let” me.)  But at what cost to me?

So HAD I really gotten it? Or this was a test to see if I had actually made the internal shift needed to so I could go to the next level of my destiny?

Isn’t that what I had been promised over and over again this past year?

I just couldn’t do it.  My head, my heart and my gut wouldn’t let me. So I picked up the phone and called my husband, telling him what was on my heart.  If it were just about money – I would go.  But not for long and not because I wanted to.  That seemed unfair to The Boss, as well, paying me to be a short timer.

He totally got it.  So I hung up, made one more call and chose ME.

When I went to see The Boss yesterday to pick up my pay, The Old Woman wasn’t there and we had a chance to talk.  It sounds like my decision was a disappointment to her as well, and maybe – just maybe – she’s feeling guilty about things.  The Boss admitted he didn’t tell his mom all the reasons why I wasn’t coming back, so I encouraged him to do so – in a nice way, at the right time.  She needs to know that her actions and her words were not only why I didn’t want to come back, but  were jeopardizing her son’s business as well.

Speaking our truth, in a loving manner, may hurt someone’s feelings but we can’t let that stop us.  Not when we know deep in our heart that a change for the good must be made.  I feel for him.  She’s his Mom.  But she is also an employee – one that really isn’t doing her job the way it needs to be done, and it’s taking him down. She’s 80.  It should be okay for him to ‘retire’ her.

We agreed that we would keep the communication lines open,  and who knows? There might be something there for me down the road AFTER The Old Woman has her moment of enlightenment. And maybe – just maybe – The Boss will chose himself and the welfare of his business over protecting his mother’s feelings.

I’ve felt good – GREAT – ever since.  I feel energized again.  Full of hope and anticipation.  I let go of What Was – and an entire old way of being in the world –  so that Something New has space in my life.  And it’s possible that by deciding not to sacrifice myself and my dreams, by putting my well-being at the front of the line, I actually did fulfill my purpose there.

I chose me.

Now, maybe the nice Boss Man will to do the same.

Losing Control

hangmanI noticed several things immediately yesterday, on my First Day On The Job:

One – The Old Woman was compelled  to tell me all about of her accomplishments, all about of her credentials, right out of the box. (and they were impressive!)

I wondered if she forgot the only reason I spoke of my accomplishments and credentials when last we met was because I was on a “job interview.”

It seemed that she was telling me all this stuff about her wonderfulness because she wanted to raise my opinion of her.  She needed to tell me that she was Somebody.  She had Import.  She was Special.   This was all tied into how important the job was to her – to keep her active and “with it”.

At this point, I literally told her:  “I didn’t come here to take your job.”

Two, The Old Woman also went out of her way to emphasize various reasons as to why I wouldn’t like the job.  “It won’t be exciting enough for you.” “There’s nothing creative about this job.” “I told The Boss (her son) that you would be bored here.” (That one was said multiple times.)

*ahem*  OK.  Thanks for that.

And Three, as she was showing me the ropes, it was obvious that she is a Control Freak.  A nice one, to be sure, but a CF just the same.  I lost count of how many times she said, “I do it this way…..” – even down to how to separate the pages of triplicate style form:  “The Whites HERE, the Pinks HERE, and the Yellows THERE.”

Are you fucking KIDDING ME right now?

After a while, I just stopped doing things the way that I would naturally, and followed her instruction EXACTLY.  NOT because I thought it was the best way….but because I was so tired of hearing about HER way.

Maybe she realized what she was saying because a number of times, she back pedalled: “But when you do this, you can do it your way.”  Really?  You’re giving me permission to separate a form “MY” way?

Wow.  Thanks for that.

I also  noticed the office spaces – and there are a bunch of them – need to be cleaned up…organized…updated.  The Old Woman has been using the same plastic baggy to hold stamps in for 15 years.  It’s torn and old.  The desk drawers are full of crap. There are funky Christmas decorations lined against the wall among some other unidentifiable paraphernalia, and it looks like someone dropped them “temporarily” only to have them stay there for years.  Decades old papers and catalogs sit on the shelves, and so much wasted space! All of this spoke to me of something hugely important:

CHANGE doesn’t happen here.

It wasn’t a horrible day.  5 hours went relatively quickly even though – by and large – it wasn’t very productive.  The Old Woman moves and speaks slowly, and goes off on little tangents.  Me?  I am a DOER, and like to GSD (get shit done).

So why would I go back after all of that?

This the question I ask myself this morning…..

Should I just do it for a few weeks for the extra cash?  It was an easy $150, that’s for sure.

Do I want to stay for the practice of getting back into the working world?

Do I stay long enough for my hair to grow back a bit more, so I feel more “Presentation Worthy” in this world where employers will make up their mind about you in the first 30 seconds of a job interview?

Do I stick around to “See What Happens?”  I know that The Boss needs me, and I can already tell he would like me to do things The Old Woman and The Collage Girl (his daughter) either cannot or will not do.  I could really assist him.

And I would love (as in L-O-V-E) to get in there and organize things.  Disorder and junk make me uptight.  I am a  Put Things Right kinda girl.  An “everything in it’s place” sister. I mean, how about we recycle the big old copy machine that doesn’t work and is being used as a table for potted plants?

No question, I could give the whole office space the total Feng Shui-ing it desperately needs.

But would The Old Woman “allow” it?

Would The Boss override her objections so that I could?

…….

I’m going in for another 5 hours today.  It will give me a better sense of What’s What.  This is definitely a case of Progressive Revelation, on all counts. The True for me today is, I have the time to be there right now. I am making some money. And there’s really nothing else I really need to do today, no other job offers coming through (yet), and I am kind curious because I don’t believe in accidents or coincidences.

Who knows? Maybe….just maybe…..

I Am The Change they’ve been needing to see in their world….

Oh, What A Tangle

Spider WebWhile out for a walk yesterday, I spotted this spider web from across the street strung and had to go check it out.   Strung up over a neighbor’s unused back gate, it was HUGE – 2 feet tall at its widest point – and, from the looks of it, it’s been there awhile.  While I shudder to think about how BIG the spider might be that made this, it would totally make a great prop for a haunted house.

Nature is already decorating for Halloween and I’m digging it!

The web holds a certain beauty for me.  A certain fascination.  There’s the obvious hole where, perhaps, a bird flew through it or a rock was thrown.  There are the thin sections tightly strung and precisely uniform, and then there are others that look like Mama decided to get busy after a few dirty martinis with the girls.

Something to remember: Friends Don’t Let Friends Spin Drunk.

Friends…. a topic I’ve been thinking a lot about recently.     This breast cancer journey I’m on A couple of love bombshas taught me SO much about friendships.  I’m a Facebooker, and it’s been miraculous and astounding how my friends – some who I’ve never met in person, and others that I haven’t seen in years – have circled around me with support, encouragement and love.  I am still, 9 months after my diagnosis, periodically receiving cards and gifts in the mail – the latest one just a few days ago.  I like to call them Love Bombs and they always show up right when I need a boost.  Without a doubt, I wouldn’t be doing as well as I am if it weren’t for these people.  They hold space for me like I’ve never experienced, and I don’t know how I can ever repay them – except to be strong. battle on and help as many others as I can along the way.

But it’s not all been Love and Light.   I now have an Ex “Bestie”.  Yeah, that happened a month ago.  But it wasn’t a complete surprise.  I’ve known something was afoot for months …since April, in fact.  It began after it turned out HomeGirl wasn’t going to be there for my first surgery due to vacation plans with her kids.  The same thing happened for my second surgery a month later.  And even though I told her I understood,  she swore she would “be there for me 24/7” when I started the hardest part of a hard journey, the chemotherapy.  She wasn’t.   So, I made other arrangements.

Anyway, back in April I felt her pulling away from me. We never did talk on the phone much  (something I particularly dislike about the Texting age), and so when her texts started to come less frequently, and her interactions on my Facebook page all but vanished, and our visits grew farther apart, I just “knew”. A huge Red Flag went off inside of me when she was 30 minutes late for a lunch date – something that never happened before in all the years I’ve known her.  It wasn’t a matter of a busy schedule – it was her day off and she was at home.  It’s just that she just didn’t leave her house in time to be on time, and THAT spoke volumes!

HomeGirl stopped sharing important moments in her life in that “you’re the first to know!!” way we once had, and what texts I did get were shorter and shorter.  The last one – in response to my lengthy apology for having to cancel our visit for the next day because I was feeling too sick from Round 3 – was all of two words long.  Two.  “OK, thanks!”

And I haven’t heard from her since.

My daughter and husband have borne witness to my tears and my confusion over the last several months as I tried to deal with her “withholding”.  I remember early on thinking, “She’s going to find some “issue” to get pissed about so that she can feel justified in ending our friendship.”  And sure enough, that is exactly what happened.  Maybe I didn’t make my journey enough about her.

Guilt does funny things to a person.  So does jealously, insecurity and resentment.  She broke up with me once before, as some who are long time readers here might remember.  It was about 6 years ago.  But unlike last time (which was also without warning), this time I won’t go after her.  Last time, I would periodically email her to see if I could find out what had happened so we could work things out.  This went on for 3 years.  Not once did she tell me why she ended things.  When we did finally reunite about 2 years ago, she said – both of us with tears in our eyes – that she couldn’t remember, and swore we would NEVER break up again.

Today, after being the victim of her Scorpion sting for a second time, I’m calling BULL SHIT.  What kind of person ends a sister-like friendship, pushing away all attempts at reconciliation, over something so unimportant they can’t remember it? For THREE years?

Sheesh!  I’m laughing at myself here. Wake up, Grace! Why I didn’t see this before, I’m not sure.  I do know that – in the past – I’ve tried for too long, giving up too much, to make certain relationships work.  I don’t hold grudges, and I am a huge believer in Second Chances.  But not today.  Not any more.

I am changed in ways I am only now seeing.  Why would I WANT someone like this as a friend?  Why would I go after someone who intentionally tries to hurt me with the things she says, as seen in some recent Instagram posts (thank the Social Media Gods for the “UNFOLLOW” button!)

The truth is, I don’t.  Someone like that doesn’t belong in my circle.  We obviously don’t Vibe in the same frequency any more.  After looking a little deeper at “us”, I realize we don’t really share much in common any more, and it’s possible that much of what was holding our friendship together was “What Was”, not “What Is”.

Come to find out, after doing a little Googling around, that there are other women out there who have lost a Bestie while fighting breast cancer.  Who knew?  One would think that at a time like this, relationships would grow closer…that these BFFs would step up like never before.  But sometimes, unfortunately, they don’t…and they bail. Who knows why this happens. Maybe the Bestie is scared or can’t cope, or feels left behind in the whirlwind of surgery, treatment and doctors appointments.   Whatever the reason, it happens and it can be devastating.  The cancer patient feels abandoned in their time of greatest need.  Betrayed and let down.

Most of all, they feel unloved.

Thankfully, I know – and can feel – the great circle of love around me.  I’ve never gone without support and concern.  Turns out there is always someone waiting in the wings to help me.  These people are in my life at this time because they are the Right Ones for Right Now, and I am so grateful for their presence.

Another lesson learned: What is REAL will last and everyone who is meant to be in my life is still here, with more friends added all the time.

In Memory Of Dr. Wayne Dyer

For those who were students and appreciators of Dr. Wayne Dyer and his work, his sudden and unexpected death on August 29, 2015 came as a huge shock.20150805_065656

I count myself as one of those people, and not just because he shared a strong resemblance to my father.

Coming late to the New Thought party, I didn’t hear of Dr. Dyer until sometime around 2002.  But once I had, I was hooked.  Many of his books are on my shelves.  I’ve watched untold number of PBS specials with him as the speaker, and I attribute his work for being some of the most meaningful in my life in the last decade.

As I am not quite up to writing a full post this morning, I thought I would share a fantastic article that arrived in my email this morning.  Written by Luminita Savius over at Purpose Fairy.

It’s called, “15 Life Changing Lessons To Learn From Wayne Dyer”, and you can find it HERE.

I love all 15 of Luminita’s points, but especially No. 11.  It’s one I’m practicing a lot these days….

11. No need to stress over everything.

Believe it or not, there is an invisible force who created the whole world, the whole Universe and this force becomes available to us the moment we stop trying to do it all by ourselves, the moment we decide to allow events to take their natural course and just go with the FLOW.

“Good morning, this is God. I will be handling all of your problems today. I will not need your help. So have a miraculous day.” ~ Wayne Dyer

Wishing YOU a miraculous day as well.