My Life in Letters – “R” is for Religion

God is in the details

Yeah, I’m brave enough to write about a subject as touchy as religion, because I’m not going to preach here.  In fact, I’m going to do quite the opposite.

I was born into the Primitive Southern Baptist faith.  All I can really remember is that girls could only wear dresses or skirts, and I remember lots of sad, monotonous songs.  I also remember lots of potluck, but that’s an entirely different story.

When I was 8 my mother was in the hospital.  The preacher from our church didn’t come to visit her, but a little Leprechaun of an Irish priest knocked on her door one day and asked if she would like some company.  It just so happened the priest’s name was Fr. Collins.  Collins is my maiden name.

Shortly after that we converted to Catholicism and I left public school to attend private Catholic school.  It was a shock to say the least.  I was terrified at first because I had heard stories about nuns – ruler toting, knuckle -hitting nuns.  Of course, being the good little girl who hadn’t quite found her Moxie yet,  I never had a run-in with any of them.

After I finished Catholic school and its countless mandatory church days, I didn’t attend mass very much.  As years went by I grew further away from the physical church, but found myself feeling more connected spiritually in my own self.

It’s not that I had anything against the church, it’s just that much of the mass had become so mundane to me – not much about the service moved me anymore.  I could recite the prayers without even thinking about them and, to me, that was wrong.

Along the way I’ve tried other churches, other faiths, but I just keep returning to the one that came with me when I was born – my internal spirituality.  My church is within and that works just fine for me.

I have no problem with religion, per se.  In fact, there are several aspects of  my Catholic faith that still resonate with me and give me a great deal of comfort.  It’s just that the organized part of it sort of stopped working for me.

I think spirituality is God-made and religion is man-made. And I’ve seen some of the things that man-made stuff can do.

Religion is no different.  All the rules and regulations, the dogma, the mine is better than yours attitude is very unGod-like to me.

I know I’m treading on thin ground here and I’m not trying to ruffle any feathers, this is a personal choice, not a judgment of others.

Believe me, I have friends who are Catholic, Methodist, Baptist, Agnostic, Atheist, and a whole host of other things.  And I respect each of them equally.

And the way I see it God can go by many names.  I know I do, depending on who  is talking to me.  I can be Michelle, Chell, Moxie, Ginger (yes, that’s my first name), Mom, Momma.  It’s all me.

But one problem I have is when people start to preach to me.  On several occasions I have been judged for having been Catholic.  I was once told, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to hell because I was Catholic.  This was by a religious person – a person who felt he was speaking God’s truth.  Really?

So despite the fact that I’m a good person, who is kind and tries very hard to always do the right thing, despite the fact that I am not a murderer, but a mother of two beautiful boys who teaches them to be compassionate toward others, despite the fact that I pray to God each night – I am going to hell because I was raised Catholic?  Nice.

The God I believe in doesn’t judge me that way.  The God I believe in is in the details.  And I’m a detail.

I wonder what would happen if we all dropped the labels and focused on being kind, compassionate human beings.

I wonder what would happen if we stopped being so judgmental and started just being.

I wonder what would happen if we allowed ourselves to listen to what our internal God is telling us and put on hold the man-made God.  I wonder.

Will you judge today or will you be tolerant of differences and revel in the fact that we all have the same God inside of us?

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I’m one of “those” people

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photo credit: Shahrukh Hasan

For those of you who are uncomfortable with people who speak authentically about their life experiences, you can stop reading now. I have never been one to mince my words when it comes to who I am. That’s not to say I’m completely comfortable in my own skin (I’m working on that) but I have always been a pretty heart-on-my-sleeve kind of person – just ask Jesus Danny.

Anyway, this past month has been one of reckoning for me. Here’s the sort of short version.

My doctor put me on birth control and it did a nice little number on me. After two weeks, I woke up one morning and really felt as if I had nothing to live for. Seriously. It was quite scary. The only other time I really felt like that was after my father died when I spiraled into a deep depression. Prior to that, I was feeling overwhelmed but not depressed.

I went to my doctor and completely fell apart in his office. My exact words were, “If I didn’t have two kids who needed me, well…” and then I lost it, as in ugly cry lost it.

He immediately diagnosed me with depression and put me on Prestiq. That was a Monday.

I’m already on Wellbutrin because depression has been a part of my life for a long time. In fact, I remember the first time I went to my doctor about my depression. I fought it so much. I didn’t want to take medicine. I didn’t want to be one of “those” people. But I am one of “those” people. My brain is chemically imbalanced. I lean towards the melancholy.

My doctor said, “If you had diabetes, would you take medicine?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Depression is an illness. A chemical imbalance. You can’t fix it,” he said.

Well let me tell you, it’s no way to live. Being all chemically imbalanced and wondering if today will be a day that will matter or not. So I took the “magic” pill and went down the rabbit hole. And what I found was hope.

Two days later life was all sunshine sparkles and starlight ponies – or something like that. I had my moxie back…for now.

Saturday night I went to bed with a massive headache. I really didn’t think anything of it because I have been cursed with a head that aches way too often. Sunday I went on my normal grocery run. As I was shopping and massaging my pounding temples, I had a horrible flashback.

Several days after Nick was born I had a very similar headache – a headache that put me in the ER twice. With that memory pushing its way to the surface I pushed my shopping cart over to the pharmacy and took my blood pressure. Nightmare confirmed! My BP was 188/106.

I checked out without finishing my shopping and got home as fast as I could.

That night i did a bit of internet research and discovered that one of Prestiq’s side effects is high blood pressure. For good measure I also did a bit of research on the birth control and learned that it can cause severe depression. Hello!

I saw my doctor on Monday and told him that I wanted to detox my body and get off both meds because I felt like they were doing more harm than good. He agreed and told me to quit the Prestiq cold turkey since I had only been on it 5 days. He also gave me some BP medicine to take until I get my pressure under control. The downside is that the medicine wipes me out and I can’t afford to be wiped out with two kids to take care of.

I am now in my third week of detox and it has been hell. I’ve had terrible headaches daily, and my blood pressure still hasn’t come completely down. I’m working my way back to what was a normal life – though filled with anxiety at times – for me.  I welcome that at this point, compared to what I have been through lately.

I’m striving to learn how to handle my stress better. I have started running again and plan on adding yoga and meditation as a regular part of my day.

My journal, that has been patiently waiting on my bedside table, will become a part of my routine as well. I know the power that can come from unleashing my words. It’s been way too long since I’ve put pen to paper.

In my attempt to gain some control over my life again, I have pulled out a book that resonates with me in a whole new way – Eat, Pray, Love.

In the beginning of the book, Gilbert, who is going through a nasty divorce at the time, writes a petition to God where she asks for specific things from Him. At this point in my life I thought it might be a good idea for me to do the same thing.

Dear God,
I feel strange writing to you since I don’t really conform to the whole religion thing and to some here on Earth that’s hypocritical of me. Whatever. You know me, we’re tight, despite my lack of churchiness. Anyway, I have a few things I need from you. But you probably already know that, huh?

I am at a point in my life where I am struggling. Struggling to find a balance, I guess. And since I’m not really the coordinated one in my family, I thought maybe I should ask for a bit of divine intervention.

I want to learn to be a bit more laid back. I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist and I worry way too much. Do you think maybe you could help me out a bit here with that? I don’t do so well on my own. I want to do yoga and meditation but, for some reason, have a hard time committing to it. Maybe you could help me out with that. Lord knows, I mean, You know that it would only serve to benefit my entire family. So it’s not a selfish request on my part. I think both of those would help me out with my stress level and allow me to feel a bit more grounded.

Also, maybe you could throw in a bit of self-confidence. Not too much because I certainly don’t want to be arrogant. But maybe just enough to make me actually like myself. I know I’m supposed to LOVE myself because I’m all a part of you and everything but it’s hard when I look in the mirror to focus on the divine part of me instead of the bits and pieces that don’t seem to fit the mold I have in my own head. I mean I know animal print is in right now, but I have a hard time accepting my spots. Just sayin’.

If I could “fix” the things in me that are holding me down, I really feel like it would benefit more than just myself. So there you have it. You know best, so I ask that you give me the wisdom to accept your response to my requests.

I thank you in advance for your attention to my personal matters.
With all due respect,
Michelle McGee

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Bliss it was to be alive

Bliss in action

Bliss it was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven.
-Wordsworth

Mr. Wordsworth had some words worth listening to. How many times have you found yourself searching for your own personal bliss? Searching for that something that will overload your happiness in-box.

I know that I have wasted years looking for that very something. Maybe wasted isn’t the right word, because there is nothing wrong with searching – at least it implies that you believe there is something worth searching for – that you haven’t gone all half-empty on your life.

But maybe we are looking too hard. I think Wordsworth was onto something that we should pay a little more attention to.

At the playground yesterday, I watched my boys running around, laughing, goofing off – being young. And if I’ve ever seen a look of pure bliss, absolute heaven it has always been on the face of a child who is doing his job.

So what is a child’s job? Just to be young. According to dictionary.com one of the definitions of young is:

being in an early stage generally, as of existence, progress, operation, development, or maturity; new; early.

To some this might seem to be a state that is not desirable.  After all, we tend to associate being young with immaturity.

But consider this:  When we are fresh, and unmarked by too much life experience we still have our wings – we still long to fly like angels – we still feel invincible.  Maybe those are heaven’s residuals still clinging to our souls.

The laughter of children just playing and being young might just be the closest thing to the echoes of angels we will ever hear.  And if that’s the case then shouldn’t we all make every attempt to retain our youthfulness – a certain level of immaturity?

I’m not talking about youthfulness in terms of frozen botox faces.  It’s an internal youthfulness that may not magically remove your wrinkles – in fact, you might just wind up with more in the form of laugh lines – but it will create some pretty great magical moments in your life.

The fountain of youth is closer than you may think.  I challenge you to do something young today – something fun a child would do.

Will you hop on a merry-go-round, or play hopscotch?  Will you spin in circles until you drop or challenge your child to a jump rope competition?

Whatever you do, I bet it will make you smile.  And while you might have to nurse that aching hip or bruised knee later, I bet you won’t regret it.

How will you find your heaven today?

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Ripples

photo credit: Marc A. Sporys

“Good Ripples” from the TV show Joan of Arcadia. The term is used when a person’s actions (however small) end up having a positive outcome. ‘Good Ripples’ are felt in just about every episode of the show as God asks Joan to do small or big tasks which sometimes seem to her to be pointless. Joan doesn’t always see the positive effects of her actions, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t significant. -excerpted from Urban Dictionary

If you’ve ever dropped a stone in the water, you’ve experienced the incredible difference one small action can make.  Just watch the ripples vibrate out from the center and dance across the water’s surface – that’s how karma works – with a rippling effect.

Imagine yourself as the stone that has been dropped onto the Earth and open yourself up to the possibility that you can have that same rippling effect.  But ripples aren’t always good and that’s something very important to know.  It doesn’t matter what kind of stone is dropped there will always be resulting ripples.

Someone dropped a stone in my pond today, but it was more like a heavy boulder being catapulted from across enemy lines.  Bad ripples all around.

I was sitting in Atlanta Bread Company this morning having my coffee when a man approached me and struck up a conversation about my Apple computer.  The ensuing conversation revolved around my writing and the subjects that I enjoy writing about. 

I began to tell him about Jacob and my passion for educating others about Tourette Syndrome.  Before I could say much more he said, “So does he go around yelling screw you to everyone?’  And he started laughing.  Bad ripples.

I rattled off my usual explanation of coprolalia and explained that only 10% of those with TS have this form, yada, yada, yada.  My ears were buzzing and my heart was racing.  I was infuriated and yet I said nothing more about it. 

It wasn’t until he left that the effect of the ripples hit me.  As I replayed the conversation in my mind I remembered him saying that he was a local family practitioner.  A family doctor!  A doctor who knows better than to make fun of someone who has a medical condition.  The more I thought about it the angrier I got.

I had a decision to make.  I could continue the bad ripple effect by brooding over this and spreading bad ripples all over town or I could do something productive to turn those ripples into good ones.

Fortunately, I’m a good ripple sort of girl, so I decided on a two part plan of action.  First, I felt the need to write this post to remind others of the effect even the smallest comment can have on a person.

Second, I realized that the bad ripples were still there because I felt like I had let Jacob down by allowing this man to get away with what he said without letting him know that it’s people like him, who feel the need to make a joke about something serious, who are the ones that perpetuate the very stereotype I am working so hard to dispel.  As Jacob’s mother how could I sit back and let this man, this doctor, essentially make fun of my child?

He will be back for his coffee tomorrow and I will be waiting to cast my stone into his pond.  I won’t be angry.  I won’t be argumentative.  But I will be an advocate for my son.  I will let this man know that my son, and others like him, deserve more than to be the butt of some ignorant joke.  I will let him know that as a medical professional he should have known better.  And I will leave him with my good ripples.  Ripples from a mother who loves her son as he is.  A mother who wants a world for her son that is not filled with bad ripples.

What kind of ripples will you make today?

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My Life in Letters – “G” is for ghosts

Ghost Eddie

I’m a spooky kind of girl.  I dig ghosts.  Always have.  Something about the supernatural fascinates me and I aspire to actually be a ghost one day.  Something tells me I might just get my wish.

My fascination with the other world really started around the age of 19 after my father died.  I needed to believe because if I didn’t then that meant he was gone forever.  And that wasn’t what I needed.  So I began to believe.

A couple of days after he died my mom and I were at my brother’s house.  He mentioned my Dad’s Cincinnati Reds baseball cap and thanked us for bringing it to him.  But here’s the thing – we didn’t bring it to him.  And no one else did either.  At least no one in the earthly realm.  The hat just sort of appeared front and center on the kitchen counter one day.  This was proof to me that my dad was still hanging around.

Years later when I followed a boy a long way from home and settled in Memphis, I had an experience of my own.  I was very unhappy in Memphis.  It was just too far from family and things weren’t going great with the boy.  I didn’t know what to do.  One night I had a dream that changed my life.  I was walking through the woods and there was a cabin in the middle of an open patch.  The sun was shining directly on that cabin in a very concentrated beam.  I was drawn to it.

When I walked through the door, I was in a room that was empty except for one wooden chair sitting in the center.  Someone or something was sitting in that chair but the light that came through the one window was shining right on the chair and it was brilliantly, blindingly bright.

I walked forward.  As I got a bit closer, I could see someone in the chair.  The face was shrouded by the light, but I could make out two arms reaching out to me.  I wasn’t afraid.  I walked closer and my breath caught in my throat – it was my Dad.

With tears rolling down my face, I went to him.  He didn’t say a word.  He only smiled as he wrapped his arms around me.  When I woke up I knew that Daddy had visited me.  And I knew what I needed to do.  Within a week, I had moved back home.

I’ve had several visits from him since then.  There was a corner in my old house that he seemed to prefer.  I had a picture of him and my mom getting ready to go to their senior prom.  Daddy was wearing a white sports coat.  When I saw him in that corner, he was 18 again and wearing that same coat.  He just stood there smiling at me.  He has never talked to me.  I don’t know if he can’t or if he just feels like no words are necessary.

In that same house one night when I was getting Jacob to sleep (he was about 5), I saw as clear as day a bright orb hovering above him as he slept.  I swatted at it because I didn’t know what it was.  Of course, I didn’t make contact with anything.  I watched it for a bit and then it sort of just dissipated.  I felt like it was his guardian angel letting me know that he was being watched over.

My husband’s mother, Boni, has also visited us on several occasions.  Most recently she spoke to us through an toy guitar of Nick’s.  Boni was a musician so it came as no surprise to us.  I caught it on video:

Guitarboni2

My favorite shows are about paranormal experiences.  TV shows:   Ghost Hunters, Paranormal State, Psychic Kids.    The Sixth Sense is one of my all time favorite movies.  My favorite book right now is James Van Praagh’s Unfinished Business.

I still continue to experience spiritual phenomena.  Some might call it coincidence or imagination, but I know it’s real.

And I have begged my mom, who shares my same paranormal beliefs, to promise me that she will come back and visit me after she dies.  Mom reassured me and said she will always be with me.  But now I’m wondering if that is a promise or a threat!

The way I see it, how could there not be spirits everywhere?  Energy never dies.  So when we die where does our energy go?  I believe it’s all around us.  And if you’re lucky and you believe, maybe you’ll get a glimpse of it like I have.

Do you believe in ghosts?  Have you ever had a paranormal experience?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Thinkful Wishing

Wish Full

Red birds.  Birthday candles.  Dandelion puffs.  All things that I have been known to make wishes on, though my wishes are usually more like prayers.

When I was little I wished for new dolls, or coloring books – things that would make me happy.  Today isn’t much different, I still wish for things that make me happy, it’s just that those things have taken on a different form.  But sometimes those things aren’t things at all.  They’re deeper than that.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that the things you wish for sometimes come true.  Thus the saying, “careful what you wish for.”  I’m sure you’ve heard that one before.  Sometimes the thing we think we want, is the thing that, along with immediate happiness, can bring us considerable misery on down the line.  Greed.  It has a way of biting us in the sass.

That’s not to say you can’t want things and even ask for those things.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  But what if, every now and then, our wishing was a bit more selfless?  Not Miss America wishing as in “I wish for world peace”.  Of course, we wish for world peace.  But how about more specific wishing – wishing with intention.  I wish for healing in Haiti.  I wish for strength for my friend who’s battling cancer.

Once we place specific intentions on a wish, I think we set things in motion with the universe.  And I think by doing so and by really focusing on our intention there occurs a shift in our own emotion, which fuels the intention even more.  And doesn’t that bring happiness, just knowing you are sending good vibes out into the world?

I believe in karma, the whole what-goes-around-comes-around way of thinking.  So, in essence, by wishing peace, happiness, strength – and whatever other good intentions you can think of – on others, you are wishing them upon yourself as well, in a very selfless way.

So next time you see a dandelion full of promise, take a deep breath, summon up your best wishes for a person in need, and send those seeds of intention flying out into the universe.

Wish big, wish often and wish full.

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How will you scatter your joy today?

My new bible

Recently I started reading a book that was given to me shortly after my first son was born – that was nearly 12 years ago.  The book is Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach.  At the time, I felt like my life was simple enough so I placed the book on a shelf somewhere where it became part of my ever-growing library.

This past Christmas, when things were crazy, when life seemed more complicated than ever, I remembered that book and wondered what ever happened to it. Every magazine article that I had been reading at that time always seemed to be pointing to simplicity and living a clutter-free life. I took it as a sign.

Warner went up in the attic in search of my book and descended the stairs with the pink, hardback that would soon become my bible. Now I begin each morning by reading that day’s meditation. It’s funny how most of the readings seem unbelievably fitting for what is going on in my life that day.

On the entry for January 25,  Breathnach uses a term that is so playful and profound I had to share it here with you. She tells us to “scatter joy”. I immediately got the image of a farmer scattering feed for his chickens in order to sustain them, keep them healthy and well fed. And just like that farmer, I think we need to scatter feed, in this case, joy for everyone around us to feed off of. We are also the chickens running over to the farmer anticipating the food, anticipating the joy and the feeling of fullness it will give us.

By scattering our joy we not only create a sense of peace and well-being for those around us, but we receive the same feeling as a by product. What you give you get back in return.

So take a moment before you head out today and consider how you will scatter your joy.

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He’s Not Broken

Me and my inspiration

Hello everyone. My name is Michelle and I’m addicted to trying to fix my son.

It’s been nearly 6 years since my son’s diagnosis with Tourette’s Syndrome. Five of those years I spent moving through a series of emotions that I now realize are very much like the 12 step program that groups like AA rely on. I realize now that I had an addiction that took me years to overcome.

Even before Jacob was diagnosed with TS, thanks to the powerful and sometimes destructive voice of the internet, I knew. I knew that Jacob was behaving in a way that fit the criteria for Tourette’s. I knew but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. I figured if I believed it then I was sealing his fate and condemning him to a life of never fitting in and being bullied, a life plagued with low self-esteem. I spent hours online searching and searching for something that would justify my denial. I was exhausted emotionally and mentally from spending so much energy on fixing Jacob.

When Jacob was diagnosed I went into immediate panic mode. Did I give this to him? Was it my fault?  What did I do wrong?  I hated myself for the future I had given him. With this thoughts reeling through my mind, I began to slowly disappear into my son’s TS, and it consumed my every waking, and sometimes sleeping, moment.  I searched for answers, cures, solutions – anything to take this away from him.  Anything to fix him.

We tried vitamin therapy and behavior management.  But nothing changed. Jacob still made funny noises. He still moved his body in odd ways. He still fit the criteria for Tourettes.

I became furious.  Furious at myself.  Furious at God.  Furious at parents who had kids who didn’t have Tourette’s. My anxiety fed Jacob’s anxiety and many days were spent in a very dark place within myself.  My anger and resentment were stealing my life with my son.  I was mad at the world and yet, still my son ticced.

I spent many nights bargaining with God.  If you take this away I will take whatever you give me.  Make me tic.  Make me suffer, but not my son.  I’d wake up hopeful, until I heard the snorting and I would crumble inside.  Another bargain denied. I begged for a miracle, and yet still my son ticced.

I began to withdraw from life.  I was so sad for my son.  But I was also sad for me, for what I had lost.  I had the child I always dreamed of, but he wasn’t the child I had expected.  And now, I lamented the son I would never have.  This made me even more depressed because certainly I was an awful mother for feeling like this.  I didn’t love my son any less at all, I just wasn’t prepared for this particular child.  I cried all the time.  And yet still my son ticced.

Then something started to happen.  I began to meet other people with similar kids.  I also met adults, successful adults with Tourette’s.  I began to accept things as they were and trust that this was the life I was meant to have.  I could continue to live in misery and defeat, or I could embrace this and make a difference.  I started really looking at Jacob and I noticed the darnedest thing.  His Tourette’s didn’t bother him.  It didn’t stop him from being a “normal” kid.  So why did it bother me?  Once I started paying attention to how life really was for Jacob and not how I perceived it to be, once I started accepting things the way they really were, my life changed and so did I.

I finally realized something that took me 5 years to learn – my son is not broken.

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Don’t Blink – Live with your eyes wide open

Nick and Jacob before they were grown

The other day Jacob was a bit down because there are only 3 girls in his class, one is mean, one is okay, and one is a cowboy (whatever that means) – which means none of them are of interest to Jacob.  Girls.  I remember when he used to get sad because we couldn’t read just one more book before bed.  Or because his best friend had to go home.  Now, it’s girls.  I realize he’ll be 12 in a couple of weeks, but I was sort of hoping that I had a few years left before I would have to worry about this sort of thing.  It’s not a bad thing, it’s just a thing that is  huge reminder to the mom in me that one day soon he’ll be borrowing my car keys and relying on me less and less.

Even Nicholas is sprouting his fledgling wings a bit more these days as he hangs with his big bro instead of clinging like a spider monkey to my leg.  I’m enjoying my new quiet moments to myself, but at the same time the quiet only amplifies the ticking of time.  But I’ve decided I”m not going to focus on all of the growing pains that are slowly making their way to the surface.  Instead, I’ll focus on those moments that I still have with my boys.

Like when Jacob hands me a box of tissues signaling the beginning of an iPhone Yahtzee tournament that he assumes he will win.  Or when Nicholas climbs into my bed late at night clutching his “Sandy”, and reaches over his hand to cup my cheek and say, “You the best mom.  Love you so much.”

Nicholas and his frog Sandy snuggled up in my bed

It’s those moments with my boys that make me feel alive. Then there are those moments that I wouldn’t really categorize as sweet but that make me feel just as alive. For example, Nicholas asking me if I would please, please, please buy him the Fart Piano app for my iPhone. Or Jacob begging me to teach him how to force a burp. Ahhhh, the sweet smell of boyhood runs thick in my house. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Just when I start to get bogged down in life – the bills, the laundry, the endless clutter both mental and physical, Jacob pulls me out of my mental muck and out of the blue says, “Hey Mom.” “Yeah, what do you need, Jacob?” I ask in a voice that begs the question “what more could I possibly give to anyone today?!” “Nothing, I just wanted to say I love you, Mom.” And it is with that simple declaration, that I am reminded of what it’s all really about. And I’m here to tell you it’s not the Hokey Pokey.

Today, try to keep your eyes open to the extraordinary in the ordinary. Hug your kids just because. And remember don’t blink.

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Acceptance – It is what it is and what it should be

photo credit: SDCDeaCerte

I have learned that when I surrender to the reality of a particular situation – when I don’t continue to resist, but accept – a softening in my soul occurs. Suddenly I am able to open up and receive all the goodness and abundance available to me because acceptance brings with it so much relief and release.  – Sarah Ban Breathnach, from Simple Abundance

I’m on a personal journey these days – a journey to the center of myself and my bible is the book Simple Abundance.  And lately I have learned that acceptance is not the passive dance of giving up and letting someone or something else lead that I once imagined, but rather a very active tango of push and pull that results in a pretty amazing, dynamic performance.

Many times in my life I have gotten stuck in the toxic rut of regret and fear. But as I get older I see that there is nothing to be gained from this and everything to be lost.  I’m learning that those negative emotions do nothing but attract more of the same and I’m ready to break that debilitating cycle.

I’ve decided that I am going to accept things rather than fight them. I’m going to project positive rather than attract negative.  I’m going to live rather than exist.

In the past few weeks I’ve practiced this new attitude of mine and I am amazed at the difference it has already made in my life.  I feel happier.  I think it’s the idea that I don’t have to micromanage my life and try to control the big picture anymore.  That’s a lot of pressure.

I am happy to have found some help along the way in books that have fallen into my hands at the right time with the right message.  And some pretty amazing people have been there to ease my transition and help me along. None of these things happened by chance. The time was right.

If you want to join me on my journey, check out some of my resources and let me know what you think.  You might just uncover something in the process – the authentic you.

Simple Abundance Online – a website dedicated to topics such as gratitude, self-acceptance and harmony

Simple Abundance – the book – 366 essays on topics such as gratitude, self-acceptance and harmony

Unfinished Business – James Van Praagh – what the dead can teach us about life

Easier Than You Think – Richard Carlson – 39 small, simple adjustments for making positive changes in all aspects of your life

Neat Mom – Teaching you ways to keep life simple – a great blog about finding ways to simplify your life

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