Serene & Neurotic - the perfect combo

I simply adore new mothers. They are the perfect combination of serene and neurotic. One moment they are performing superhuman feats—pushing 9 lb. bundles of love through a canal normally the size of a Bic pen; operating on two hours of sleep or less while continuing to glow like a Madonna—and the next they are stressing out that they might not possess Consumer Reports’ Top 10 must own items to raise your baby if you don’t want them to end up destitute or married to an ax murderer. Like I said, the perfect combo of love-manifest and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

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Angels in our Midst - Do you believe?

“A Warrior of the Light is never predictable.

She might dance down the street on her way to work, gaze into the eyes of a complete stranger and speak of love at first sight, or defend an apparently absurd idea. Warriors of the Light allow themselves days like these.” – Paulo Coelho

Are you a Warrior of the Light? Someone who’s willing to dream of angels and step into absurd ideas? Well, I am. This morning I awoke thinking of angels and other things that some might call “woo woo.” I opened As I Lay Pondering, saw today’s title, “To Be Known,” and asked myself what it would mean for me to be known right now in this moment. Hmmm.... 

Norah & the Watchers

Do you believe in angels? I do. They come in all shapes and forms—furry, human, dreamlike. Arriving in streams of light, laughing children, and a gentle touch. A stranger who appears and mysteriously vanishes. A fleeting thought, prickly neck or tingly skin. One of my favorite “angels” that shows up in both image and imagination is a curly-headed impish girl named Norah (translated as Compassion). My old golden retriever, Curry, emerges on occasion. And, of course, my purring companion, Aslan, is an everyday reminder of otherworldliness in present form. My long-deceased father has appeared on several occasions through music and nature; meeting me when I most need to hear him. Real or imagined? Truth or fantasy? What do you believe?

Recently a man perusing my ponderings mentioned to his wife that he thought I might be a little crazy. So be it. A warrior of the light dances through the street and people either join in the dance, run the other way, criticize, or pause and ponder. Which do you choose to do?

Curry Dog

There is a place of stillness where everything connects, disappears and comes into absolute clarity all at the same moment. I think of the Bible story of Jacob wrestling with God and his dreams of the ladder going up to heaven while angels ascended and descended. These kinds of stories have been with us since the beginning of time. The question is... Are we willing to believe? What happens when we slow down, step into stillness, and listen... deeply listen? Will God speak? Do angels show up? Is it the result of an overactive imagination or a mind running wild with thoughts and fantasy? Does it matter? Will it be any less real if I can’t hold it in my hand or capture it in a digital photo? Perhaps I am a touch mad, but today my mind returned to a very real experience I had during a meditative time in Arizona this spring.

When I closed my eyes and the meditation began, our moderator simply mentioned the word “stage” and I felt the spotlight shine upon me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had these longings since I was a little girl. Do we all dream of being on the stage? Yes. No. Perhaps. I believe our “stages” simply take on different forms. [Pause and ponder: what your stage might be? You know, the one you see when you close your eyes.]

Check out that Boa!

Moving down the pathway of my mind, golden-haired Norah greets me with her playfulness and compassion—her is-ness. In her unique way, she invites me to simply be. Before me on the ground lay an apple that I witnessed just before the moderator invited us to look up rather than down. There to my right were grand marble steps leading upward to the stage. A brilliant curtain crafted of magnificent red—the color and texture of my feather boa—reminds me there is nothing insignificant about my essential self. She is meant to shine! (I know this and yet I doubt it in my current mind... not the meditation). Returning to the dream state, I am invited to leave Norah, my guide, at the bottom of the staircase. I don’t want to take my journey without Compassion, but Norah reminds me that she is always with me. All I need do is ask.

Moving up the stairway, I see a being with shoulder-length hair. He glows with strength and light emanating from within. Before I can ask his name, I know it is the Archangel Michael whose card lay “randomly” on my chair before our session began. The Angel turns and points to the audience spread before the stage. It is filled with adoring fans—people asking for my gifts... my gifts... MY gifts. The people do not clamor. They simply stand before Michael’s outstretched hands—before me—and wait. They snake around my viewpoint—like the final scene in “Pay It Forward”—holding lights and waiting. They are honoring me and know I have the gift to share with them. I am awed and honored myself. Michael is brilliant before me andhe is part of me. Strength and courage. Like Norah, he will always be with me, but especially during this time of the journey he is very near.

I sense him over my left shoulder now. His golden wings gently wrapping around me as I write with my golden muse, Aslan, purring in my lap. “Be you, my child. The world is waiting.” I feel it now and I heard it then as he turned back to me and said, “The gift is you.” And in his hands lay my gift to the world.

In that brief moment, I smelled the apples I had seen earlier. The fruit of life. Tempting and forbidden. Hmmm. Fear creeps in. I was always forbidden to shine. Forbidden to taste the fruit of my own knowledge. But here, the sweet fruit has been broken open before me. I need only inhale—stop, pause, breathe—and it will find me, surround me, and fill me with its fragrant aroma. May this fragrance move me into the world with strength and tenderness; compassion and love; Michael and Norah. There is no room for fear when all is love.

Truth or fantasy? Real or imagined? Sane or inept? What do you choose to believe? Where does your mind go when you turn to that deep place of stillness where everything connects, disappears, and becomes clear in the same moment?

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 9

Old Brain



There is a voice inside our heads that, believe it or not, usually wants to help. It comes from the places of old and is reptilian in nature. Karen Armstrong simply calls it “old brain.” Martha Beck names it our “lizard.” It also goes by such pseudonyms as the inner critic, devil on your shoulder, or possibly your mother. It is the voice that keeps us in check and goes back to primordial times when all we needed was to be safe, fed and procreate. Since there are no saber-toothed tigers stalking us today, our brain has a tendency to make stuff up that emulates danger.



Since it is an old brain, it is both sophisticated and naive in a very primitive way. My inner critic says things like Who do you think you are? No one will read this drivel! Stop while you’re ahead, fool. It doesn’t sound very helpful, does it? I want to shout back and name call, too, in a display of my own unevolved self. Experience, however, demonstrates that what we resist persists. Fighting, pushing, ignoring and shouting back – all feel like resistance to me. Perhaps a new tactic is in order. Pause. Breathe. Listen a little more closely.



Hey, Lizard, what do you really want? Like a sultry teenager or a petulant child, she pouts and whines and calls me more names. By engaging in the name-calling, the drama escalates and no one wins, so I choose to listen a little more deeply. What she really wants is to simply keep me safe. By convincing me to back off from my goals which entail taking risk, she thinks she’s performing her job successfully. Counterintuitive to my basic instincts to battle her, I’ve noticed responding with laughter, kindness, humility and confidence is much more effective in quieting down this petulant child.



What do you really want? Could there be something helpful beneath all that brain noise? Probing a little deeper, I understand my lizard also wants to be heard – just like me. Hmmm. Perhaps a compassionate bent is the best choice, even though placing my fingers in my ears and screaming, “I can’t hear you” can be quite appealing. Petulance or compassion – which will I choose today?



Today's ponder is inspired by Laura S. Her prompt: How does our inner critic serve us, and how do we best relieve her of her duties?



photo © h3images



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Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 2

When Pigs Fly

Pedrita gazed upward into the night sky, pondering the question: When will I ever learn to fly? Her nights were dream-filled while her days were spent in the barnyard surrounded by fellow swine. The others passed their hours trudging back and forth between feed trough and mud pit. They slogged through the days mimicking perfect barnyard behavior infused with virtually no enthusiasm.

Pedrita, however, knew she was destined for more. Instead of snarfing down her slop, she would pause and be curious about where her meal had been before. Whose leftovers was she sharing? Did the grains come from the field over there? Was her mother gluten intolerant? Is that why she's so cranky? Pedrita spent her waking hours pondering and pondering and even though the other animals made fun of her and called her whacky, she offered them kindness and gentleness rather than matching their derision.

Every night she would gaze into the heavens and imagine herself floating among the stars. She could see herself reflected in the constellations and knew she was special and shiny. She tried to tell her friends about the magic night sky, but they were more concerned about the next meal and what everyone else was doing. Ped, however, would not be dissuaded. She continued to dream her dreams and wish upon the glowing stars. She saw beauty in everything and offered compassion unceasingly, even to the piglets who laughed at her wistfulness. Nothing could deter her from reaching for the stars.

Each evening while standing under the moonlit sky, she offered compassion to the whole world - especially the parts she didn't understand. She sincerely believed we are all made of stars, and as she nurtured this belief something gradually changed within her. Her heart sprouted wings and under the winds of generous compassion, one night she defied gravity and rose to join the twinkling lights of the sky.

She quit trying to convince others to change and went about her days seeing her mates perfect as they were with all their slogging and slopping. By day, she was a simple swine reaching out to others through curiosity and kindness. Little did they know, however, that through these daily actions she nurtured the incredible lightness of being that carried her, Pedrita the pig, soaring through the starlit nights.

Inspired by Pedro's prompt: When will pigs fly? And will we fly alongside them...

kauai pigs © h3images

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Pause before you Punch...

... or How to Deal with Mean People

My friend and colleague, the beautiful and talented, Deb Smouse, recently asked if I had any tips on dealing with mean people. Not knowing exactly what she desired, I decided to do a little journaling around the topic to find out what I know ☺.

Bottom line, no matter how hard we try and hope it isn't so, they do exist and well... Sometimes mean people are just plain mean. They get under your skin and make you feel like you want to lash out and be mean too (or at least I do.) When I feel my blood pressure start to rise and my chest begin to pound, I realize that’s usually the time to take a deep breath and pause for a quick look in the mirror. Stop. Look. Listen. Notice and begin to imagine where their nastiness might be coming from, because most often it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’ve also learned that without the pause, I’m at risk of feeding their fire (or ire) by turning up the heat with my less desirable Lucy-girl tactics. While momentarily this might feel good, it typically feels downright yucky and both of us walk away feeling singed. If I can avert this quick response and gather my pause, I often discover it’s the perfect time to pull out my super-secret (wish everyone knew about it) diffuser: Compassion. Whether or not the other person is willing to receive it, depends on them. In any case, through compassion I can stay grounded and with much better-feeling results than trying to match their nasty attitude.

(Warning: If you offer compassion and kindness to someone and consistently walk away feeling guilty or at fault for their bad mood, you’re probably dealing with a narcissist. My advice is to steer clear!)

Grumpsters come in all varieties and curmudgeons are my favorites. They’re usually just big old teddy bears who lay on the mild end of the “mean” scale just before hard-to-love, prickly, but ultimately approachable people and far away from sociopaths or narcissists who can rarely be won over and always leave you feeling icky. My approach with curmudgeons (and I realize I’m now giving away trade secrets) is to tame them with kindness. I like to get playful and perhaps a little sassy with these growly bears while feeding them their own direct medicine. I truly love being their pal, and rarely let them off the hook, because curmudgeons typically enjoy a good jest and are usually just trying to stir things up.

In my experience mean people are always asking for something and while it usually looks like they want you to go away, the exact opposite is often true. My kids, for example, have perfected the nasty look or growling get-away-from-me grunt. They can trigger me faster than any living person, so it’s trickier with people you’re close to, because you’re often a lot alike and/or it feels like there’s more at risk than with someone you don’t know. Once I began to understand my own insecurities and hidden motivations for being mean, it became easier to stick it out with others and turn on the loving compassion. It also taught me to slow down and consider how things aren’t always as they seem.

If pausing, looking in the mirror and calling on compassion, doesn’t do the trick for taming a mean person, then my surefire, foolproof approach to not letting this person get to me is to imagine they are about four or five years old. I see them slightly past the terrible two’s (although it can be fun to think of them at this age), but not yet jaded by a world of should’s and should not’s. By seeing an offensive person as a tender child who only wants to be loved, I’m able to drop my own defensiveness and tap into unconditional love and compassion. If four or five years old doesn’t work, I drop the age even younger until I can only see them as needing care. I can’t even begin to imagine retaliating or hurting them. I try to envision what this child might need – a kind word, a grounded presence, a hug or pat on the back. Mentally offering it to them can be equally powerful when it’s inappropriate to do it physically. In some cases they may just need to be left alone. In the case of hard-core offenders (sociopaths/narcissists), sometimes we just need to walk away and take care of our own inner child (i.e. don’t add to the abusiveness by staying in the line of fire!) It’s ok to move away gently and acknowledge for ourselves where and how it hurts. Finally, I allow myself to remember sometimes mean people are just plain mean.

Be sure to pop on over to Debra Smouse’s To Box or Not to Box for another viewpoint on dealing with those mean-spirited people in your life.

You can also visit me at Diamonds in the Soul to learn more about me.