I’m currently traveling and never have I identified more with the Charles Dickens line, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The lows are low (no clean clothes for 48 hours! Diverted plane! An unexpected six-hour bus ride!) but the highs are also high. I’m meeting my friends’ children for the first time. I’m reuniting with people I haven’t seen in two years, 10 years. And I’m trying to do as Joseph Campbell advises when he says, “We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”
I know there are terrible things happening. I know the world can be so horrible it will break your heart over and over again. I know people are struggling (myself included) but I am choosing to live in joy. And more than that, I’m choosing to relish the little joys when they arrive. Here’s a little story about that.
In early July, I was at a yoga and meditation retreat in upstate New York. It was so sweet to see my spiritual family and connect with people I hadn’t seen in ages. But it was also hard physically – no air-conditioning in the dorms, people walking on creaky wooden floors at all hours of the day and night, and just generally sleeping poorly in a new place. My body was wrecked.
After the retreat, I met my fourth cousin for the first time, who graciously let me stay in his two-bedroom, two-bath apartment near Times Square. Air-conditioning! A comfy bed! No creaky floors! A pool! It was exactly what I needed. The joy of temperature control after sweating all night cannot be overstated. But even still, I was tired, cranky, and feeling off because for the first time in a week, I was completely alone. As I brushed my teeth in my cousin’s bathroom, I looked down and saw a rainbow stripe in the sink.
The rainbow in question. And yes, that’s my reflection in the sink.
Many people know that I have a thing about hearts and the word “love.” I see either or both every single day. I share many of those images on Instagram. What’s less known is I also have a thing about rainbows. Whenever I see a rainbow, I will squeal in delight or, at the very least, smile. Rainbows bring me joy in a way that hearts do not because they’re unexpected and rare. It’s easy to spot a heart every day if you look for one because people wear heart necklaces. They carve them into cement. They decorate their homes with love paraphernalia. Hearts are everywhere. Rainbows are not.
When I see a rainbow, it’s like the universe is saying to me, “Hey! Remember the good stuff, kiddo! Relish the joy and remember it can come out of the blue!” When so much of the world feels like a dumpster fire, it feels important to remember that. It relates to a concept my spiritual teacher touts, which is, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”
Movement is the innate characteristic of the universe. Nothing is stagnant or static or stale. The world will always be full of sorrows but it will also be full of joys. Am I relishing them when they come? It’s definitely a practice but I’m doing my best because joy is a lot more, well, enjoyable.
I dream of a world where we understand there are always bad things happening but there are also always good things happening. A world where we understand joy is often about the little things – air-conditioning on a hot summer’s day, going to the pool with friends, seeing a rainbow in an unexpected place. A world where we do our best to relish those little joys because we know they aren’t so little after all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Many years ago, I had a conversation with one of my closest friends about enlightenment. We compared our approaches – how I live in idealism, fantasy, and move toward the light. He told me his approach is more like crawling down the back of a scaly beast until he comes full circle at its snout. I heard what he said but I didn’t understand it because who wants to go down the scaly back of a beast? Who wants to peer into the seedy underbelly?
It turns out that I do. I’m currently experiencing the astrological transits associated with the mid-life crisis (and if you were born in 1984 or 1985, you are too). If you’re interested, that’s Pluto square Pluto, and essentially it means looking at the shadow and everything that remained hidden. It’s doing what Carl Jung suggested when he said, “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
I’m realizing how true that is. In my post from the other week about meeting the self, I talked about the importance of looking in the mirror, and sometimes, when you look in the mirror, you don’t like what you see. Some people become well-practiced at avoiding the mirror. It’s too scary, it’s too threatening to witness the parts they want to hide but that’s not me. I’m devoted to myself and that means all parts of myself.
As if to underscore this point, I pulled an oracle card called “Diving for Light.” The author Alana Fairchild says, “It can be so much simpler to seek light in the heavenly, in that which is blissful, sweet, loving, and kind. To look for the light in that which is dark is an advanced task that only a rebellious and brave heart will attempt. You may not feel that you have taken such a journey by choice. Yet you have taken this wise challenge from deep within your soul. Your innermost being has evoked this situation in your life with the intention that you grow in power, wisdom, and creative juice. It also wants you to experience a bold and fearless trust in life and become further empowered to live it with zest and courage.”
That’s true. I want to live fully. I want to liberate myself through expansion, and that means every situation, every struggle, every everything is an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved or further away. My spiritual teacher says our path is an all-around fight, both internally and externally. That means facing my fears, protesting injustice, and always asking, “How can I use this situation or experience to grow?” It’s not only the happy, joyful situations. It’s also the ones that have me crying every single day.
I’m diving for the light by mining the darkness. I’m sifting through the muck looking for gold, not because I particularly want to, but because I recognize there’s something of value in doing so. On the other end of this is more power, more wisdom, more creativity, and being one step closer to enlightenment.
I dream of a world where we understand to become enlightened, we must make the darkness conscious. A world where we use everything as an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved. A world where we dive for the light because we understand that something powerful and transformative is waiting for us in the shadows.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As we’re approaching the July 4th holiday, a time that supposedly celebrates freedom and independence, I’m reminded of this post from five years ago. Enjoy.
What does it mean to be free? Some people would say it’s doing whatever you want, whenever you want. But is that really true? In Rebecca Solnit’s excellent essay on “Masculinity as Radical Selfishness,” she mentions the axiom, “My right to swing my arm ends where your nose begins,” which is about balancing personal freedom with the rights of others. It’s also about watching out for someone else’s rights. However, what we’re seeing is the idea that my right to swing my arm doesn’t end where your nose begins, but instead just doesn’t end. And in fact, your nose is not my problem, and it should get out of the way.
She also says in the U.S., “unlimited armswinging peaks at an intersection between whiteness and maleness, with plenty of white women on board who seem to believe that a white lady’s job is to protect white men’s armswinging (often with a selfless disregard for their own noses).” What we’re seeing is peak entitlement and conflating “freedom” with hypermasculinity as well as white supremacy. Who is it that thinks they should have unlimited armswinging? White men (but not all white men, to be clear).
This is incredibly juvenile and shortsighted because no person is an island (even if they have enough money to buy one). We don’t live in our own self-contained bubbles, able to accomplish everything by ourselves. We want someone else to cut our hair. We want someone else to make our food. Humans are social creatures. We are not meant to live in isolation.
Real freedom requires limits. Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
The hypermasculine freedom some in the U.S. idealize is a myth because what happens when that individual gets sick? They rely on the collective to help them out – they go to the hospital for care, or a doctor, or the drugstore.
My spiritual teacher says, “Just as my life is important to me, others’ lives are equally important to them; and if we do not give proper value to the lives of all creatures, then the development of the entire humanity becomes impossible.”
It becomes impossible because individual life is bound to the collective. Collective welfare lies in individuals, and individual welfare lies in collectivity. There is no instance where my individual welfare doesn’t contribute to collective welfare. And furthermore, real freedom requires constraint. That may seem like an oxymoron but hear me out.
Retired Navy SEAL, author, and podcaster Jocko Willink says, “Freedom is what everyone wants – to be able to act and live with freedom. But the only way to get to a place of freedom is through discipline. If you want financial freedom, you have to have financial discipline. If you want more free time, you have to follow a more disciplined time management system. Discipline equals freedom applies to every aspect of life: If you want more freedom, get more discipline.”
He’s talking specifically about individual freedom, of course, but I think the same message applies to collective freedom. We’re able to drive safely, for the most part, because there are rules associated with driving. We’re able to buy food we enjoy because there are regulations that keep expired food off the shelves. I realize there are problems with the rules and regulations I listed, but I’d much rather have those problems than going into a grocery store and wondering if the food I’m buying will poison me.
Real freedom requires discipline and a care for others. Anything else is just selfishness that will eventually catch up to us.
I dream of a world where we recognize true freedom requires giving up a little bit of freedom. A world where we understand we can’t do what we want whenever we please without consequences for ourselves and others. A world where we understand there’s an inherent relationship between freedom and limitation.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I was invited to two weddings this weekend, so it seems only fitting to reshare this post on marriage that I wrote 10 years ago. Enjoy.
So often when I hear or see depictions of marriage, it’s about finding a companion to build a life with, someone you’ll love forever, your best friend, the person you’ll turn to in times of joy and sorrow. However, what I don’t often hear discussed is how marriage can enhance spiritual growth.
We get so caught up in the mushy-gushy stuff of marriage that we forget there’s another side. As was so aptly pointed out in a New York Times piece called “The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give,” there will be times when a person will look at their spouse and feel only rage. That doesn’t mean the marriage is bad or wrong – it means it’s normal because a marriage isn’t a pleasure cruise.
I often paraphrase Marianne Williamson, who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” What does that mean exactly? It means other people don’t exist to make me feel good; it means every person and every relationship is a teacher. All of them provide opportunities to bring me closer to the divine. And sometimes that means the other person serves as a mirror to reflect some painful truths. Things about myself I don’t like. Things about myself I wish I could change. Things in me that are still unhealed. But a marriage is a commitment to walk that sacred spiritual path together.
Walking hand in hand means something different in a spiritual context. Photo by Jeremy Wong Weddings on Unsplash
Marriage becomes about living your life in a “new way with a special type of responsibility,” as my spiritual teacher would say. In fact, the marriage oaths in my spiritual tradition state that each partner takes on the responsibility for their spouse’s food, clothes, education, medical care, etc. And also that the person will be vigilant to ensure their spouse’s mental and spiritual progress. The oaths are a genuine desire to take care of another person’s all-around welfare and growth. Marriage not only takes into account the other person’s needs, but also tries to help them along the spiritual path. The emphasis is not on the self, but on another.
Does that sound dry and kind of clinical? It’s not meant to be – there’s something special about romantic love, something almost magical. That matters. I’m not discounting pleasure or love; rather, there’s more to marriage than just love, at least from a spiritual perspective. Marriage isn’t about having someone warm your bed or keep you from feeling lonely. Marriage is about helping you grow as a person in good times and bad, whether that’s easy or hard. It’s about standing in the sacred fire of truth and saying, “I’ll stay and let myself be transformed.”
Joining with another person isn’t for the faint of heart. It requires courage, commitment, but also an understanding that the other person isn’t a dopamine patch. They aren’t there to “make you happy.” Rather, the other person is on a spiritual assignment to help you grow.
I dream of a world where we understand what it means to join with another from a spiritual perspective. A world where we revere love, but we also add something more to the mix. A world where we understand sometimes we’ll hate our partners but that’s normal. A world where we understand marriage isn’t about finding a person to bring us eternal happiness, but a person who aids us in moving closer to the divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m editing a fascinating book about judgment. I can’t quote from it because, hi, it’s unpublished and also not my writing, but I can talk about the general ideas and also quote from others.
My client makes the case that when we judge other people, it’s often because we aren’t tending to the vulnerable parts of ourselves. The parts that need to be met with love and care. For instance, if I say, “He’s so lazy,” it’s likely there’s a part of me that’s sad because I long to rest. But instead of holding that grief – that I desire to rest and feel unable to do so – I’m projecting and calling that man lazy. And judgment of any kind, toward others or the self, breaks connection with our own heart, to paraphrase Tara Brach.
Why does that matter? The older I get and the deeper I go into spirituality, the more I understand that enlightenment is not only living in the light. It’s going into the shadows. It’s descending into the metaphorical underworld to rescue the parts of ourselves that we’ve exiled. The ones who are scared. The ones who are ashamed. The ones who feel unlovable. Writer and spiritual teacher Jeff Foster Brown says: “Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ – it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”
Meeting the Self is one the hardest and most healing things we can do. Photo by Михаил Секацкий on Unsplash
The unresolved elements of our story remain unresolved until we face them. It’s the low hum of anxiety in the background, even though on paper everything looks fine. It’s the vaguely dissatisfying nature of our relationships. It’s the knowledge that we could be doing so much more but we’re not. You could live your whole life like that, and many people do. But regardless, these feelings are symptoms; they are an invitation to meet your Self.
Psychotherapist Matt Licata wrote:
“The invitation is into intimate communion: to move closer, and even closer still, into the feelings, the emotions, and the sensations as they surge. To surround the surging material with curiosity, warmth, and most importantly with kindness, as an inner explorer of the galaxy of your own body, of which there is no temple more sacred.”
So many people try to escape themselves – into the arms of another person, via the bottom of a bottle, through the excitement of a video game – but it doesn’t work long term. Speaking as an addict in recovery, I know from experience. I have the receipts. But my whole life got so much better – richer, fuller, more joyful – when I stopped running and met my Self. You might be saying, “That’s so vague. What does it even mean?”
I can’t condense nearly two decades of personal development into a single blogpost but if you’re interested in meeting your Self, and I recognize you may not be, a good place to start is with a timer.
When I was early in recovery, feeling my feelings was like being flayed alive. It was excruciating. Deeply painful. Scary. Feeling my feelings was the last thing I wanted to do! What if they never ended? What if I was sad/scared/angry forever?!? What helped was setting a timer. For five minutes, I let myself feel whatever I was feeling and after the five minutes (that usually turned into 10), I would stop. The feelings had a beginning and an end. When the timer rang, I could go on with my day. That was the beginning of meeting myself.
As my client emphasizes, healing happens with presence – not trying to fix, change, or solve anything. Just presence. Just being with. And we don’t need to wait for someone else to do that, we can give presence to ourselves. And the more we are present with ourselves, the more we are present with others. The more we meet ourselves, the more we can meet our true selves as divine beings of light. And that’s something I wish for everyone.
I dream of a world where we understand judgment is a protection mechanism. A way of not tending to the ones inside. A world where we see these judgments as invitations to turn inward. A world where we commune with the entirety of who we are because we understand enlightenment is about enrealment. A world where we are brave enough to meet ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve had an interesting experience over the past month or so. People whom I thought I’d never see or talk to again have been resurfacing. Not one or two people, either – five. Folks that I haven’t seen, talked to, or thought of in one year, two years, three years, five years have been popping up in unexpected ways and places.
So often I get stuck in binary thinking: “This person is in my life forever,” or “They’re gone for good,” but life is reminding me I don’t actually know. I don’t know who will cycle in and out of life. I think I know. I want to know, but there’s evidence staring me in the face of how wrong I am. To be clear, resurfacing doesn’t always mean reconnecting. Sometimes people show up again only for you to say, “Ew. No. Hard pass.” But still. It’s interesting when people reenter your life.
The whole thing is reminding me of humility. I don’t mean humiliation or low self-esteem. The word “humility” originates from the Church Latin word humilis, which literally translates as “on the ground.” Other words that mean “Earth” are also part of the etymology of “humility.” Being humble means keeping your feet on the ground and staying present here on Earth.
Sometimes you think the flower is fully opened but it’s not. Photo by Nova Shrayber on Unsplash.
In my post from two weeks ago about grounding in reality, I talked about discernment and using the mind to vet information. But what I’m also recognizing is that grounding in reality means accepting we just don’t know. We don’t know the future. We don’t know if a project is finished even if we think it is. We don’t know who we’ll be connected to a year from now, two years from now. We don’t really know anything.
As a journalist, as someone who loves investigating the truth in herself and others, this is incredibly humbling. Over and over again, life says to me, “You think you know what’s coming? Baby, you don’t have a freaking clue.” That can feel scary. Or at least it does for me. But this, too, is reality. And instead of spending countless hours trying to predict what will happen next, it’s better for me to be here, now.
Do I sound like a broken record? I kind of am right now because I’m trying to anchor in truth and reality. I’m trying to live the principles Eckhart Tolle talks about in The Power of Now. He says, “Most people treat the present moment as if it were an obstacle that they need to overcome. Since the present moment is life itself, it is an insane way to live.” The present moment is life itself. Life is what’s here, now, here now. Even the hard parts. Even the things I want to skip over.
Life is always a mixed bag – it will never be all good or all bad. This is why every happiness expert talks about gratitude and focusing on the positive. There will always be something negative. Always. That doesn’t go away. But what’s positive about the present moment? And can I stay humble, recognizing I don’t know what’s next? Can I remember it’s better for me to not even try to know? That’s what I’m working on, anyway. And life keeps sending me reminders when I forget.
I dream of a world where we stay humble. A world where we understand we don’t actually know if something is finished or whether a person will resurface in our lives. A world where we stop trying to predict the future and instead live here, now. Because the present isn’t an obstacle we need to overcome. The present is where life happens.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
There’s a Post-it taped to my bathroom mirror that says, “Remember: Life can be surprising and delightful.” I need this reminder because one of my trauma responses is hypervigilance. I’m constantly scanning for threats and waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. It’s a survival strategy, but not a particularly fun one.
Saturday was a sweet reminder that life can be surprising and delightful. I met up with a new friend at my favorite vegan bakery and coffee shop. She’s a professional astrologer and, of course, someone I’d like to know better. During our conversation, she said she’s moving. When I asked where, it turns out she’ll be about five blocks away from me! OMG, amazing! I love hyperlocal friends! The possibility of a spontaneous hang increases exponentially!
Ever since my friend and neighbor Emma moved out years ago, I’ve wanted another hyperlocal friend, so this is a potentially answered prayer. TBD because we’re still getting to know each other but maybe! And regardless, how often do you meet someone about to live on your same street?!?
Leaving the coffee shop, I checked my transit options and instead of waiting 10 minutes or so for the bus, I had to wait 30 because the next scheduled bus was canceled. To kill time, I wandered along the street and drifted into a flower shop. On a whim, I asked if they had flower-arranging classes because I’ve never done that before and would like to. When the cute florist said no, the interaction could have ended there, but it didn’t.
He made a joke that the store is terrible about promoting itself and suggested I write down my name and email address. We had a friendly/flirty conversation for the next 30 minutes, and he gave me two allium flowers for free.
The flowers in question.
That definitely wasn’t on my bingo card for the day! But it was a sweet reminder of exactly that: Life can be surprising and delightful. I often think I know what’s coming, that there’s a script for how each day will play out, but there isn’t. Every day is filled with the possibility of something unexpected, something delightful, something that reminds us there is good and beauty and joy in the world.
I perpetually want to know the future so I can feel safe in the present but that’s not how life works. Safety comes from being here, now. Here, now. As Ram Dass, author of Be Here Now wrote, “What are you doing? Planning for the future? Well it’s all right now but later? Forget it baby, that’s later. Now is now. Are you going to be here or not? It’s as simple as that!”
Being here, now is also what allows me to be surprised and delighted. If I’m too focused on what’s happening next, I don’t create space to be in the moment and it turns out sometimes the present moment is pretty wonderful.
I dream of a world where we come back to here and now. A world where instead of predicting the future and imagining it will be terrible, we remember that life can amaze us, in a good way. A world where we remember life can be surprising and delightful.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I keep thinking about fantasy, delusion, and reality. A spiritual teacher I like was convinced Kamala Harris would become the next president. When Trump won on election night, she said, “Kamala won’t concede! She’ll ask that the election be investigated!” When that didn’t happen, this teacher said, “The election won’t be certified!” And then when that didn’t happen, she said, “Just wait until late April or early May. This election isn’t over! It’s all about to end!”
What interests me is not the content – people believe wacky things all the time – it’s that she kept saying her intuition told her all of this was true. And not only her intuition, but intuitive tools like tarot cards and signs. All of her tarot cards said more would be revealed. And she received sign after sign, things like walking around town and seeing t-shirts and bumper stickers that said, “The End,” which she interpreted to mean Trump’s reign was about to come to an end.
Yet here we are in mid-May and Donald Trump is still president. So what gives? How could her intuition be so wrong? Especially when she received external signs? It’s not like you can make that sort of thing up. Here’s the thing: An incredibly painful lesson I’ve had to learn over and over again is that signs are literal. People read into them, adding in their own layers, but usually, the universe will answer the question you ask.
Let yourself ground in reality, not fantasy. Photo by Stas Ostrikov on Unsplash
Here’s a perfect example from my own life: When I was in my early-20s, I was completely enamored with an avoidant man. I didn’t know he was avoidant because I didn’t learn that term until later, but what I did know is we had a strong connection, yet he ran away from it. He was hot and cold, giving me mixed signals, and it made my head spin. Was this something worth pursuing or not? So I asked the universe. I said, “Who is my soulmate?” and literally in that moment, a truck drove by with just this man’s initials spray-painted across the side in giant letters. It seemed pretty clear to me. He was my soulmate! We would get married and live happily ever after!
Spoiler alert: We didn’t. I thought “soulmate” meant romantic partner but it doesn’t. A soulmate is someone who you have a deep connection with and often impacts your life in a profound way. This could be a friend, a boss, or even a pet. And this man? He absolutely changed the trajectory of my life. It was because of him that I pursued healing and immersed myself in the world of mental health, so much so that I’m a ghostwriter for therapists. I became a different person as a result of our connection. Was he my soulmate? Yes. Was he my “sitting in rocking chairs growing old together partner?” No.
That’s the thing about signs and intuition – we receive information but the interpretation is likely skewed based on our desires, biases, and more. This is also why using our brains is so important. My spiritual teacher says, “The highest treasure of human beings, distinct from other creatures, is their intellectual superiority. Had there been no intelligence in humans, they would hardly be different from other animals.”
He encourages everyone to practice discernment. To use their brains as well as their intuition. Like if your intuition says Elon Musk used his internet provider Starlink to steal the 2024 election for President-elect Donald Trump, to check whether voting equipment is even connected to the internet (it isn’t). Or if your intuition says to buy a car and then you take it to two mechanics and they say the car is a lemon, trust them.
I know it can be excruciatingly painful when your intuition doesn’t match reality. I don’t want to minimize that because these experiences of learning I misinterpreted my intuition have been the most heart-wrenching of my life. And at the same time, reality is reality. I’d much rather be grounded in reality than live in some fantasy land that never comes true. I’ve been in fantasy plenty of times and it only ever ends in disappointment and heartbreak, which is much worse than seeing things as they really are.
I dream of a world where we understand that interpreting our intuition is an art, not a science. A world where we recognize that the universe is very literal and oftentimes we’re the ones that add in layers and meaning to the signs and messages we receive. A world where instead of relying solely on intuition, we also use logic and reason. A world where we ground ourselves in reality because reality is where life happens.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
We are every age we’ve ever been. That means there’s still a 22-year-old, a 12-year-old, a 2-year-old, an infant inside us. Just because we physically age doesn’t mean those younger parts disappear. They live within and they need the same things now that they needed then. My inner infant still needs to be held. My 5-year-old still wants to play. And all of my parts still need to be mothered.
I’m lucky that my mother is still alive and we have a good relationship. It’s something I cherish, being able to call her up in my time of need, whether that’s to hear her perspective or ask how to do something. And at the same time, I’ve had to learn how to mother myself. As Donna Ashworth says, not all mothers are mothers. She goes on to write the following:
“Some mothers are aunts by blood, or by royal appointment. Some are sisters, best friends, with safe spaces for laps and listening ears so large they can hear silent cries. Some are teachers who will be remembered lifelong for all the right reasons. Not all mothers are mothers. And if you have one in your life, you are blessed. They have much love to give. And they are walking around this earth with nurture flowing out of their pores. Not all mothers are mothers, but oh how they mother. And this world should throw petals at their mothering feet, as they teach us all, how unconditional love is done.”
And while it’s true that not all mothers are mothers, and sometimes mothering comes from a friend or a teacher, it also comes from ourselves. It’s the self that lets you cry so hard you start to hiccup. It’s the self that allows the full, authentic expression of who you are without needing to change one thing. It’s the self that says, “I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.” It’s the self that feeds you nourishing food. It’s also the one that sets boundaries and says, “It’s time for bed.”
We could all use some of this. Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash
Mothering is a constant process because as long as you’re alive, you’ll always need mothering. There’s also the Great Mother, and by that I mean a loving higher power. In my spiritual tradition, we say that divine bliss and grace are always being showered upon each and every being but we don’t feel it because we’re holding the umbrella of vanity or ego over our heads. If we want to be drenched by that divine shower, we have to remove the umbrella.
Removing the umbrella means admitting we need care, nurturing, and support. But it’s also being brave enough to feel it, whether that’s from ourselves, another, or a higher power. It’s being willing to receive that love. But it’s also remembering that even if we aren’t ready, the mother is still there loving us, nurturing us, holding us, whispering, “I’m here when you need me.”
I dream of a world where we recognize we’ll always need to be mothered. A world where we offer ourselves the nurturing, love, care, and support we need. A world where we recognize there’s also a Great Mother that is showering us with divine bliss and grace. A world where we understand even if we don’t feel it, that love is always there and the choice is up to us whether we let ourselves be mothered.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately, I’m noticing how the universe is conspiring on our behalf. The right people are showing up at the right time to help my friends. The things that seemed impossible are suddenly possible. And in my own life, this happened in a big way with my novel.
I’ve been working on a heroine’s journey novel for 3.5 years. It’s about belonging, community, and recovery from an eating disorder. Writing the book hasn’t been easy at all. Shortly after I started, I realized I didn’t actually know how to write a novel and enrolled in a course at UC Berkeley. I joined writing groups and took more courses. I cried and wrung my hands, and wasn’t sure I could write a full-length novel, which, for my category (women’s fiction), needs to be at least 75,000 words. That’s 230 pages double-spaced in a Word document.
Sometimes the writing flowed, but most of the time it did not. And yet, through it all, I felt like the universe was supporting me, and I received confirmation of that over and over again. When I wasn’t sure if my story mattered, I met someone struggling with an eating disorder at 32, and my book is about a woman who struggles with an eating disorder at 32 and finds recovery.
Once I got on board with my book mattering, I still wasn’t sure I could write 75,000 words but I did. A day or two after I hit that goal, I got a call from a client who was circling back to me after a year of not working together. He lives in Dallas but for some reason that day he called me from his cellphone so “McKinney, Texas” popped up on my screen. Do you know where the bulk of my book takes place? McKinney, Texas.
After a friend read my novel, it became clear to me I needed to hire a professional to read it but I didn’t have the funds for that. I prayed and said, “God, if you want me to hire an editor for this novel, you need to find the money for it.” Literally the next day, I received an assignment from a magazine I write for sometimes, that after taxes, would be enough to hire an editor.
Last Monday, I turned in that manuscript to the editor and told my chiropractor it felt like this book wants to be in the world. I went into her waiting room and pulled the oracle card below.
You can’t make this stuff up.
In case you can’t read it, it says, “The word wants to be written.” I burst out laughing when I saw the message because it couldn’t be any clearer: yes, this book does want to be in the world, and yes, the universe is helping to make that happen. It reminds me of a quote/concept I’ve written about before.
My spiritual teacher says that “whatever happens in this universe of ours is nothing but an expression of Cosmic desire or Cosmic will … when a human desire and His desire coincide, then only does the human desire become fruitful, otherwise it is a sure failure.”
In other words, if something is meant to be, the universe will help you. It may not always be easy, because again, I would never say writing a novel is easy, but there will likely be something within you that whispers, “Don’t give up! Keep going!” Or you might get external validation like I did in the form of signs. Regardless, instead of being cold and unfeeling, the universe, or more accurately, Cosmic Consciousness, is loving, supportive, and conspiring on our behalf. And when so much in the world seems to be going wrong, it’s important for me to remember that.
I dream of a world where we realize there is a force in the world that’s loving us, guiding us, and supporting us. A world where we understand that when human desire and Cosmic desire coincide, that’s when our dreams come true. A world where we recognize the universe is conspiring on our behalf.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.