I Love You, Forgive Me

Ho’oponopono is a Hawaiian practice of forgiveness that has come to mean “making right.” How often do you make things right?

I mentioned in my earlier post today that I listened to one of Jo Dunning’s recorded broadcasts where she sends out energy to help people heal whatever issues are going on in their lives. You are not required to identify the issues, merely to listen. The energy is accommodating, she says, which makes me smile. I am not always that way.

About halfway through her talk she related a story about a blood test that resulted in nerve damage to her arm. My body suddenly paid great attention. I have had nerve damage in my right arm for over 2 years as a result of shoulder surgery on a torn ligament. Like Jo, I tried numerous approaches to healing, none of which have succeeded. Jo discovered, after many attempts, that she alone would have to heal herself, and in her divine wisdom she turned to love and compassion. Every time she experienced pain in her arm, she gave it love. In a mere 3 days time, the pain disappeared, permanently.

Acceptance is the key. There are things about ourselves we dislike, would rather not have, don’t know how to deal with – pain, depression, wrinkles, creaking joints, debilitating disease, etc. When we fail to release our stress, the way we feel about certain situations in life, anger, shame, guilt, these things get stored in our body and slowly begin to cripple us. We look at what we have become and wish we were more beautiful, more flexible. We long to recapture the vibrancy and excitement of youth. We want to be anything but what we are. But when we can learn to love ourselves again, to accept what we are, to let go of our resistance and let ourselves be, then energy can flow through us with more freedom and greater abandon. Change can occur. We can become what we wish to be.

Ho’oponopono. Making things right. Giving yourself love and compassion.

       To my arm I say: I love you, forgive me.
       To my nose that I blow constantly: I love you, forgive me.
       To my wrinkles I say: I love you, forgive me.
       To my creaky joints I say: I love you, forgive me.
       To the age spots on my face I say: I love you, forgive me.

The list goes on. And to each issue I am giving love and compassion. I am letting my heart remember how it feels to love myself, to nurture myself, to be kind to this body of mine. To support and encourage it so that it will support and encourage me.

I am making things right. With acceptance. I love you, forgive me.

Abundance, Wherefore Art Thou?

This morning I settled into my office chair, in front of my computer, and turned on a Jo Dunning recording while I gave myself a long-overdue manicure. Her soothing voice came on, lulling my senses as I filed my nails. Part of my mind listened to her talk about how the energy works even without conscious attention. I’ve started wondering lately if the energy really is working. Am I seeing any difference – in my physical body, in my abundance?

I started tuning into Jo’s monthly teleconference calls in July and began the Abundance Project somewhere around that time. This year has been a trying one where finances are concerned. Trying to find work, trying to make more money, trying not to be frustrated or discouraged. [Interesting word, “trying”] Amid all that trying, things began to happen. I didn’t win the lottery, but that’s difficult to do if you don’t buy lottery tickets. I didn’t get a mysterious check in the mail (fill in the appropriate amount). Oprah didn’t call me to be on her show. What did happen was something that I wrote about in a previous blog. I took the Passion Test and discovered my passions. Was that a result of the Abundance Project? Maybe. Maybe not. But out of discovering my passions has come a renewed excitement about art and graphic design. I’m learning all sorts of skills on Photoshop and Illustrator – mere child’s play for the experts but still magical and awe-inspiring for me. I’m having fun. I’m allowing my creativity to dictate where I turn, what I learn next. Forget the basics. Those will come later. Right now I’m warping dollar bills to blow in the wind and filling text with patterns and polka dots. Why? Because I can. Because it’s fun. Because it gives me great joy. And isn’t that the reason for abundance?

The Passion Test

Recently, a wonderful coach I know (Wendy Watkins) offered to take me through the Passion Test by Janet Attwood. The book was required for the coaching session, so I began to read about Janet and her journey. Like many of us, she was searching for a way of life that would fill her with joy and purpose and she stumbled upon the answers and created an amazing method.

I spent most of my adulthood in jobs that paid the rent but did not fulfill me. I had no goals, no ambitions. Indeed, I quaked inside whenever I tried to make out a list of desires. What did I want out of life? The Jaguar and Mercedes sounded great, but did I need them? I had a perfectly good car that got me where I wanted to go. The villa in Italy seemed divine, but I had never been to Italy. What if I didn’t like it there? Where was that burning desire that would make me eager to get up in the morning and do something so miraculous and astounding that I would jump for joy?

I found glimmers of that passion in my early 40s. The writing bug bit me and my life took on a new dimension. Scrawling words across the page thrilled me like never before. I was creating. Then one day I wrote a song. Combining words and music felt like peeling away a slice of heaven and wrapping it around my body. What a great beginning. But these artful creations were only pieces of my life, not the core part.

For years I’ve struggled with defining myself. Who am I? What am I meant to do? Am I a writer? A composer? An editor? Does a skill with color and layout mean I’m a graphic designer? Because I can draw am I an artist?

I love all these creative aspects of myself and I am the most joyous when I am creating. Yet there is also an inherent need to heal and teach. I am a nurturer, a caregiver (in the emotional sense). I need to make people feel better. Healing myself has been a lifelong journey and it continues. How do I put these talents and needs together and make a difference in the world?

The Passion Test came along at an opportune time. I wrote out my list, including the creative aspects, the need to heal, the desire to travel, cook, be with friends and family. I had 19 “passions.” Then I went through the list and compared them. The book tells you to make a choice: If you could do, have, or be this one but not the other, which one would you choose? And after ranking all 19, I came up with my top 5. Then I had my coaching session with Wendy and she took me through the list again, asking me to allow myself to be open and come from the heart. I agreed. Surprise, surprise, my choices changed. When we got to the final result and she read my top 5 passions to me, my eyes filled with tears and my heart swelled with joy and amazement. This is my life. This is my purpose. These are my loves.

My top 5 passions are: Living in a beautiful home by the ocean; Creating art for others that brings joy and healing; Showing and teaching people how to heal themselves; Being a world-renowned transformational speaker; Giving and receiving love in every aspect of my life.

The book advises you to write your passions down and post them around the house to remind you of them. What you put your attention on will come to you. For now I’m reading my passion cards every day, giving love whenever I can, especially to myself, and reveling in my art. I’m having fun. I’m living in joy. Life is fabulous. Of course there are challenges. I have to make decisions all the time. The trick is to choose in favor of my passions.

What are your passions? Not everyone is in the same place. If you’re one of the people who knows and is living your dream, more power to you. If you’re a little unsure, take the Passion Test. Then let me know what you discovered.

 

Passion Card

Heaven is full of cats

Last weekend I had the good fortune of sitting with a friend’s cats. Cats were my constant companions when I was a child, and frequently as an adult, but not since marriage. My husband is allergic. We could have a dog, but we’re not ready for the responsibility. I’m still not sure whether it’s an emotional disability or a mental one on our part, but so far we’re allowing it to get in the way.

I miss cats. Dogs are amazing creatures—friendly, warm, caring, unconditionally loving. They are more protective than cats and often friendlier than cats. But I am a cat lover at heart and probably had several lives as a cat. I feel in sync with these animals, responding on much more than a physical level with them.

Four different cats curled on my lap. An orange tabby and an all black cat began the conversation. The tabby curled across my lap while the black cat nuzzled my arm and stepped on my abdomen. Not the most comfortable choice for me but I was prepared to wait. A short while later, the black cat made its way to my side and lay down. They stayed in those positions for about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of warmth and soft fur and loud purring. My eyes closed and my head drooped. I started to doze. A light breeze wafted through the screen door. Outside children squealed in laughter and a lawnmower droned. I was in heaven.

A sharp buzz awoke the black cat, which jumped down and left the scene. Then the gray tabby, curled in a cubby hole nearby, awoke and padded over. She rubbed against my chest and unsettled the orange tabby, which also left. A solid gray cat appeared and assumed the black cat’s position. A change of guard, so to speak. I had no preferences, no particular strategy. Any cat would do, and two at a time was wonderful. This went on for about twenty minutes, then the gray tabby moved on. At that point, the solid gray cat claimed my lap and curled up to sleep.

I left the stress of the normal day behind while I gazed out the back window at tall trees in leafy green splendor dappled with sunlight. On my lap, a soft, purring creature slept. What could be better or more relaxing?

Sometimes finding grace can be as simple as petting a cat. I need to do this more often. Maybe I can send my husband out of town.

Feeling the Pain

Today a dear friend sent me a beautiful email written by Tama J. Kieves. In the message, Tama talks about her pain, this place where she is insecure, fearful, unappreciative. She cannot accept this place when all around her is beauty, serenity, and healing. How can she be so ungrateful? Yet her mind, her thoughts, are what they are, no matter how much she tries to be positive and aligned with Spirit.

She lays her misery at the feet of a wise woman, hoping for those blessed words that will relieve the pain. But the wise woman gives no insight, no miraculous healing. She merely tells Tama to “feel the pain.”

I am often where Tama is/was. I compare myself, my journey, to the success of others and come up short. I look at my life and wonder why I am not more, why I have not accomplished more, been more successful. The answers elude me. Today, after reading Tama’s message, I allowed myself to “feel the pain.” I am scared I won’t reach my goals. I am worried that I am not enough, that I don’t do enough. Other people would laugh at my fears. Other people would gladly exchange places with me. Today, once again, I reached out to the essence of myself, the child within, the purity that is me and nothing else, and felt the pain of wanting to belong. And then I heard the message that is always there—I do belong. I am enough. I can trust myself.

Pain is scary. It hurts. It’s unwelcome. I don’t want to go there. But when I allow myself to go there, I find the answers waiting for me.

Getting Your Just Deserts?

I love to read. As a child, I immersed myself in stories and never wanted to come back to reality. Fantasy worlds were much more exciting and adventurous than my humdrum life. I could escape to far-away planets or be a princess in distress. I could ride horseback across the plains or be an Egyptian queen.

All that reading gave me a lot of practice seeing words. Understanding their shape, combinations of letters, how they flow across the page. I was an excellent speller and loved finding typos in the newspaper. That was before I knew about editors and proofreaders.

I’m a bit more knowledgeable now. I’ve spent a few years as an editor, learned about publishing and proofreading, the importance of going over your article or story before it goes to print. I know it’s human to err. But when Time magazine makes on error in an article on page seven, it doesn’t leave me with much hope. Craig Anthony Miller was quoted as saying, ” . . . And then you’ll get your just deserts.” I suspect Mr. Miller is an educated man. I suspect he said “desserts,” not deserts. I also suspect the editor at Times just missed that error. After all, there are 52 pages in the August 24 issue. That’s a lot of proofreading.

Maybe they could use another proofreader. What do you think?