I’ve had this idea in my mind that if something is effortless for me it’s not valuable. Because if it’s effortless, than anyone can do it and it’s cheapened – we all know it’s only when something is rare, like gold, that it becomes valuable. For me, the things that come naturally are writing, being loving, and acting as a counselor.
I’ve held the notion that because I wrote and published a book myself, it’s not a big deal. Anyone can do it; it’s not such an achievement because it’s not like I sold my book to Random House, or Penguin, or any of the top publishers. It’s not really a triumph. And being loving, sending love to everyone, doesn’t make much of a difference, it’s not like I invented a cure for cancer or something. And so what if people call me up when they’re having a rough time? Because it’s easy for me, because I’m a natural at all these things, they don’t hold much value. In my mind, only if something is difficult does it have worth.
What I love about this picture of me meditating is just looking at it I can *feel* the good vibes I'm emanating.
I’m sure my friend Amal, who’s big into astrology, would say this is my Capricorn rising rearing its ugly head. The sentiment for Capricorns is to find satisfaction in hard work. My lifecoach and I explored this concept of something being valuable only if it’s difficult. We pretended I was a debt collector and played out how I would feel about it (horrible) and how I would be of service to the world (I wouldn’t be). We also pretended I was a math professor – I’m not bad at math, but it’s definitely a subject I struggle with and have to make an effort if I want to succeed. What would I contribute to the world if I was a math professor? Nothing, considering how much work it takes for me to grasp basic concepts.
What I’m getting at here, what I’m coming to understand, is we were all given certain gifts for a reason. We were imbued with our talents not so we could squander them, but so we can use them, so we can make a difference in the world with what comes naturally to us. Our gifts are not worthless because they’re easy, they’re precious because they’re gifts. This has become very clear to me in the physical realm because I lost an earring my sister got me from Prague. I’m not upset the earring itself is missing; I’m upset because it is an irreplaceable gift from my sister. Similarly, the gifts we’ve been given are from the universe/God/Brahma/the divine and are irreplaceable.
What I’m saying here is who I am and what I have to offer are valuable. My gifts are precious. They may be easy for me, but that doesn’t mean they’re worthless. It’s important to be me, to use my talents, to serve with them. My gifts have been given to me for a reason. Just like Rosie gave me earrings to wear, the divine gave me words to write, a big heart to love, and a sound ear to listen. My lifecoach wrote to me, “You don’t get to make up that not being you is somehow serving you anymore.” Nor is it serving anyone else.
I dream of a world where we realize just because something is easy doesn’t mean it has no value. A world where we hold dear the gifts that have been given to us and we use them. A world where we let ourselves be who we are, understanding there’s nothing more precious than our gifts.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Independence Day a friend of mine texted me a quote about being in recovery: "It's a million-dollar program that we get a nickel at a time." I both love and hate that concept. I'm sitting in my cottage surrounded by boxes — although not as many as last week! — and what I want is to unpack everything now. I want to be settled now. I want all the organizing to be done now. I want my big payday right this minute, not little by little.
I quite often forget this concept of baby steps, slow and steady wins the race, etc. because I'm attracted by the big and bold, by pomp and circumstance. I love hearing about seemingly overnight success and Cinderella stories because, well, I'm impatient. I heard today that impatience can also mask self-centeredness and a controlling tendency. That's certainly the case with me.
True story: The consistent pressure of water can make even the hardest rock smooth.
Little by little is important for me to remember because more often it's the case someone is wealthy because they know how to save — they sock away money a little bit here, a little bit there. More often it's the case an actor has been auditioning for years before they become an "overnight" success. Truly it's the baby steps, the hard work along the way that builds up to something great. Rome wasn't built in a day and nor will my cottage be unpacked in a day. I want to be a best-selling author this minute, but when I focus on the big goal I forget about selling one book at a time to one person at a time.
For someone like me who's melodramatic and makes big drastic changes quite frequently, doing something little by little is crucial. When I look at all the things that have stuck with me — my meditation practice, my yoga practice, my recovery from addiction — it's because I did things little by little. They've become permanent fixtures in my life because I took action every single day — not because I made one grand sweeping gesture. Sure, the grand gestures are fun and exciting, but it's the little actions everyday that have made the most lasting impact.
I don't know that anyone else will get anything out of this blogpost, but I guess I'm saying for today I realize there is value in the small things. In doing things one day at a time, little by little. That getting a million dollars a nickel at a time means there won't ever be a moment when I'm completely out of cash because I'll have a constant source of income. Yes, I'm impressed by vast canyons, but that's because I'm seeing the end results — many canyons are created by water wearing down rock little by little, day by day. Little by little adds up to something beautiful and grand, and right now is the time for me to practice that, knowing eventually I'll see the results I'm looking for.
I dream of a world where we value doing something little by little. A world where we understand constant and steady pressure adds up to something amazing. A world where we have patience with ourselves and each other. A world where we cherish our baby steps.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
There are a lot of things I could blog about today, but I find people respond best when I'm authentic and share what's really going on. What's really going on is in this moment I feel like weeping. I want to curl into a ball and cry, and cry, and cry. I don't want to admit that to you because I want to share happy things! I want you to feel inspired after reading this! But, in this moment I am sad. I acknowledge this is also because I'm REALLY tired. I moved last night after a very stressful week — I was in Seattle on Wednesday and then came home to a flooded bathroom at my sublet AND had to pack up my life and get prepped for the move all in two days. Not to mention the actual moving bit.
Moving is enough to make anyone cry, I think. I've heard several times moving is one of the top three most stressful things a person can do. I agree. It's not that my new place isn't lovely, because it is. I'm living in a cottage all by myself where I can see trees outside my window, flowers bursting into bloom, and hear birds chirping. My neighbors thus far seem very nice, helpful, and friendly. For the first time in my life, I know who I'm living around. Not just one neighbor, but all of them.
However, I'm in Oakland so that means I'm hearing gunshots and/or fireworks — we are swiftly approaching the 4th of July after all. I haven't wanted to mention the gunshots because I guess I'm a little embarrassed, as if hearing them says something about me and my economic status, i.e. gunshots mean I'm poor and being poor is something to be ashamed of. I'm not poor — I am so very rich with many, many things, and I know the money is coming. I know all of my needs are being met and I feel very blessed, and at the same time I'm living in a working-class neighborhood of Oakland. The (possible) gunshots are contributing to my tearful feelings because they're stressing me, but here is what I know: 1.) It's good to cry. Crying is a great detox. 2.) Being an adult means understanding nothing is all good or all bad.
Nothing encompasses the concept of good within the bad (and vice versa) quite as well as the yin yang.
You already heard both the good things (quiet, secure, great neighbors, in my price range, near public transportation), and the bad (not such a great neighborhood). But here's the interesting element, the not-so-great neighborhood is the seed that contributes to the pros. The more humble neighborhood is why I live in a gated community, why I can afford to be here, and why the neighbors are so friendly. I've found there is a sense of bonding together that happens in poorer neighborhoods. And yet, I still want to cry, and that's OK.
I'm writing about this because I'm giving myself (and anyone reading this) permission to feel their feelings. We have a tendency in our society to gloss over the bad stuff. We tout gratitude and appreciation, telling people to only focus on the positive. But that's not real life. Real life is messy. Real life means you can live somewhere totally gorgeous and not love the neighborhood. Real life means you can be grateful for all you have and still want more. Real life means you can feel happy and sad, scared and safe, all at the same time. I used to think I could only feel one thing at a time, but the older I get the more I find I feel a thousand different things all at once.
This blogpost may mean nothing to most of you, but I hope someone is reading this who understands what I'm trying to say: That it's OK to cry. That it's safe to express whatever you're feeling. That we can feel many things and no emotion is better than another. That being an adult means there can be so many good things at the same time there are so many bad things. We are living in a dualistic world so it makes sense we'll feel and experience opposites, sometimes in the same moment.
I dream of a world where we know it's OK to cry. A world where we feel safe to express ourselves. A world where we understand just because we're sad doesn't mean we can't also be happy. A world where we allow ourselves to express our full range of emotion. A world where we accept how we feel with grace and love.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
I've been accused on more than one occasion, and by more than one person, of "living in Dreamsville," aka, Fantasy Land, aka never gonna happen. I understand why people say this to me — because I dream big, because I ask for a lot, and because what I desire so often doesn't match what other people think is possible. Here's the thing though, what I want is absolutely possible, and in fact, comes true.
If you've been reading "Another World is Probable" for a while, you know I've been a gypsy without a caravan for about a year and a half. I've moved apartments, cities, and coasts. I haven't stayed in any one place for longer than four months since January of 2012. Last Monday I realized my dreams have changed and I no longer want to live in the city. Instead, I want to live where I can see trees outside my window, by myself, in a quiet place, but still close to things — shops, public transportation, etc. The kicker is I need to be able to afford it working part time in the most expensive area in the country. This dream was often scoffed at because it sounds unrealistic (understandably).
I imagine Dreamsville looks like something out of “The Lorax.”
Well, on Thursday, I signed a lease on a place and it's all those things and more. I'll be living in a cottage by myself, within my price range, at a gated community, near public transportation, where I can see trees outside my window. When I walked into the cottage I cried. I cried because the place felt like home but also because I was overwhelmed at seeing my dream come to life. I was overwhelmed at how the universe orchestrated to meet all my needs and more. I was overwhelmed that what other people deemed impossible was staring me in the face.
I bring this up not to chastise the people who tell me I live in Never Never Land, but because I think it's important to realize our dreams are possible. That you can't really dream "too big." I'm not saying they'll manifest overnight — heck, it's taken me a year and a half to realize what I wanted and then receive it — but they do happen.
Dreams turning into reality are on my mind because I'm currently in Seattle for my mom's graduation. My 64-year-old mother is graduating from medical school. It's been a dream nearly 29 years in the making (she was pregnant with me when she started the prerequisites for med school) and now she's graduating. My dear friend has a quote I believe he crafted himself, "Dreams may fade from view, dreams may be torn and bruised, but dreams never die." And I would add to that, dreams come true if we work for them, if we keep the faith, and if we take the action steps to realize them.
I dream of a world where we all dream big and then watch those dreams turn into reality. A world where we understand it's amazing to live in Dreamsville, and as John Lennon says, you're not the only one. A world where we receive all the blessings the universe wants to bestow on us and more.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." — Albert Einstein
I used to equate miracles with walking on water and feeding thousands of people with one loaf of bread, so, nearly impossible feats that don't happen every day. As I've gotten older, I've taken Einstein's approach instead because it's more fun and allows me to retain a sense of awe.
The miracle I've been confronted with a LOT this year is how much I've changed as a person. How the things I used to do I no longer do. How I'm not nearly as controlling, fearful, obsessive, repressed, or quick to judge as I was before. I'm more accepting of everyone and everything and I'm trying to live out the serenity prayer on a daily basis. This to me is a miracle.
I find flowers growing in concrete to be pretty miraculous. Photo copyright by Taylor Evans.
It's a miracle to realize I can transform as a person. That the behavior I don't like I can choose to change. I know I've written about this topic before, but that's because it never ceases to amaze me. On Saturday, I read aloud an inventory of my life — all the things I'm resentful about, all my fears, all my romantic blunders — the whole kit and caboodle, and was able to see I am doing things differently!
Why is this such a big deal to me? I think it's because with the miracle mindset there is an inherent belief anything is possible. The miracle mindset allows room for growth, it allows the universe to come in and shift things. It allows some spaciousness into the equation. It allows for magic. It allows for anything and everything. This is so important to me because as someone who genuinely believes we can create a better world, seeing the growth in my own life shows me it's possible for other people to grow too. It shows me it's absolutely possible we'll live in a world where everyone has all their needs met. A world where we check corruption and greed. A world where we live in harmony with each other and our environment.
The miracle mindset, seeing everything as a miracle, means I allow for miracles to happen and retain a sense of optimism, hope, awe, and magic. So the fact I can write this to you and people from all over the world can read it is a miracle. The fact I had a video call with my dear friend in the Philippines is a miracle. The fact the things that used to plague me no longer do is a miracle. And I wish for other people to witness miracles in their own lives.
I dream of a world where people adopt the miracle mindset. A world where people view everything as a miracle. A world where people understand we don’t have to accept the status quo. A world where people are excited about change and possibility. A world where we allow for miracles.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
This week my lifecoach tasked me with contacting a handful of people everyday about my book, speaking engagements, etc. At first I balked because I told him I didn't want to be "the weird girl." More than being afraid of rejection, I didn't want that familiar sensation of people staring at me blankly, or even worse turning up their nose at me. He asked me, "What's that like? The sensation of being the 'weird girl?'"
I told him it was a bit like being adrift at sea in nothing but a rowboat and no ships or people around for miles. The underlying feeling or sensation is one of being disconnected. Disconnected from other people, disconnected from my surroundings. For someone who LOVES to connect — with other people, her environment, and even connect one person with another — disconnection is like the ultimate hell.
A Mobius strip. True story, I have a pair of Mobius strip handwarmers.
However, what came out of my conversation with my lifecoach is that when I'm adrift at sea, I'm given a chance to connect with myself and also my higher power. So really, even when I disconnect I'm connected! It's a bit like a Mobius strip in that one feeds into the other. There is no end and there is no edge. I'm connected at all times, even if it's not to what I thought it would be.
When I articulated this to him, my fear went away. I realized yeah, I may disconnect from my audience, from the random person I contacted, or whoever, but that's OK because it gives me a chance to connect with someone or something else. I don't have to be afraid of disconnection because by acknowledging it, I'm allowing the space for a new connection to be formed. I'm allowing myself to drift about like a feather in the wind, blowing to its next destination.
I don't know if this blogpost is profound to anyone else, but to me, it's so indicative of how this world works, of its dualistic nature. That without dark there is no light. Without cold, there is no hot. And also how one feeds into the other. Out of darkness comes light and out of disconnection comes connection. It also shows me that sometimes it's within the depths of that which we fear, that we may find what we seek. That perhaps by venturing into what I'm avoiding at all costs I'll find what I'm attracted to.
I dream of a world where we understand disconnection is how we connect to something else. That connection and disconnection are two sides of the same coin. A world where we don't fear anything because we understand good comes out of the bad, and even what we fear the most may not be as scary as it seems. A world where we face what troubles us and know we'll still be OK. Because in the end, it may very well serve as a vehicle to get us what we want.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
This week it has become clear to me nobody has all the answers when it comes to other people, and if they proclaim they do, they're selling something. I know that's a bit jaded but honestly, I can't tell you how many times I've been lured in by someone declaring, "If you follow my guidance you'll be a millionaire/attract the love of your life/be a best-selling author, etc." I get reeled in because I want those things and I so badly want to believe there is a formula out there I can follow so all of my desires will manifest.
Sadly (or maybe not so sadly), none of the teleseminars/webcasts/books, etc. ever work. Ever. I read a book that guaranteed if you followed all of the author's guidance you'd meet "the one" within about two months. I read that baby nearly two years ago and I'm still single. When I start to compare myself to others, asking, "Why did it work for them and not for me?" I get into trouble.
When I hear "Nobody knows" I think of Zazu singing his ditty in "The Lion King."
The truth is nobody knows what will work for me better than I do. They just don't.
I'm so fired up by this topic because it's a part of my life's mission to remind people we all have an inner guidance system. Deep down, we all know what we need and want, maybe we just haven't been listening, or all the other voices are so loud they're drowning out our inner knowingness. I am so fired up by this because my whole life is about self-realization and service to humanity. How on earth am I supposed to be self-realized if I believe somebody else has all the answers?
That's not to say other people don't have great advice — sometimes they do — but it's crucial for me to add in a step, to pause and ask myself, "How do I resonate with this? Does it ring true for me?" There's the kicker: Everything in creation is unique and what works for someone else may not work for me. It's such a simple concept but it's a powerful one. Indeed, it follows on the tails of last week's post about feeling empowered. I can't be empowered if I keep giving my power away. I own my power by acknowledging I am my own authority when it comes to me. That despite someone else's qualifications, I still know myself better than anyone else does. Besides the fact, I'll probably save myself a lot of money because I won't try everything that crosses my path. . .
I dream of a world where we all pay attention to our own inner guidance system. A world where we understand we know what's best for us. A world where we pause, listen, and discern if what is presented before us has resonance. A world where we understand we already have all the answers we seek, sometimes we just have to wait for them to appear.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
It has come to my attention this week that everything I'm afraid of happening has happened. It's left me feeling like a victim, asking myself, "Why me? Why is life doing this to me?" It made me want to run away and hide, to get as far away from my fears as possible. And yet, there was still an element of life imposing itself on me. For instance, whenever I've heard loud music playing lately I've wanted to retreat into myself. I've cried so many tears of fear, pain, and victimization, dreaming of living in a soundproof bubble, not understanding where my power lies. Victimhood strips me of that power, but last week it all changed.
I'm not going to say, "Everything is better and I never feel like a victim now," but I will say I no longer identify quite so strongly with the victim place. Once I realized all of my fears have manifested I took a step back and said, "Wait a minute. This is happening because of me. Life is reacting to me, I'm not reacting to it! I am a powerful being and I am co-creating all of this!" And that has made all the difference; it's helped me to regain my power.
I love this picture of Nike, the goddess of victory, because it seems to both embody the victim (she has no head) and the victor (she’s still standing proud).
I had a sinking feeling last weekend would be horrible noise-wise because all the Berkeley students would have finished their finals and graduated. I was terrified there would be a loud party and that I wouldn't be able to sleep. That probably sounds silly, being terrified of noise, but when you've been as consistently sleep deprived as I've been, that's what happens. So the party. It happened. And instead of going into my fear and panic place, my crying, "Why is this happening to me? How can I make it stop?" place, I started repeating over and over again, "I am powerless over my need to control and my life is unmanageable." And then I started saying, "Everything is Brahma (aka, God, the universe, the supreme)." Once I got into a calm and centered place, realizing that no, actually I cannot fall asleep with loud and pulsing bass music — I finally called the police after asking my neighbors to turn down their music to no avail. Calling the police wasn't a reactive thing. It wasn't an angry, spiteful, or fearful thing. It was a, "This is the only plausible next right action. This is what has to happen," thing.
In that moment, my sense of empowerment and agency came back. I didn't feel like a victim anymore. I felt powerful because, you know, there are some things I cannot change and have to accept, like the hum of my refrigerator. But there are other things I do not; and hearing loud, pulsing bass music at 3 a.m. is one of them.
I've been afraid to work on manifesting because I haven't wanted to add more samskaras to my life (people in the West say karma). I haven't wanted to get weighed down by all my desires and so I've been manifesting from a place of a victim. But the point is I've still been manifesting. It happened even though I didn't want it to. As a victor, manifesting means surrendering my everything to the divine and trusting I will be taken care of, that all my needs will be met. It means the universe already knows everything I desire so I don't have to ask because instead I trust I will receive everything that's in my best interest. That I will be given anything and everything that's required so I may accomplish my life's purpose. In essence, it's taking my public declaration of trust a step further and saying, "Not only do I trust in my creator, but I trust everything I want and need for my spiritual growth will be given to me."
I dream of a world where we choose the victor over the victim. A world where we understand we are powerful beings who steer our lives. A world where we feel empowered by our choices and understand we always have a part to play in the events of our lives. A world where we realize we're manifesting everything and the best thing we can do is surrender it all and trust all of our needs will always be met.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Because the universe always communicates with us, this week I've been receiving messages about healing my childhood stuff and really taking the time to set the course for who I want to be and where I want to go.
A friend posted on facebook the following video by Meg Jay on how 30 is not the new 20:
I love this video because it names what I've felt instinctually to be true: that our 20s set the course for the rest of our lives. They're like a plane just starting its ascent — it's so much easier to make a few adjustments at the beginning to ensure we end up in Bali than when we're just about to land in Bangladesh.
Even if you, personally, are not in your 20s, I'm sure you know someone who is who would benefit from the guidance Meg is imparting. There's this idea in the U.S. that somehow our 20s are trivial, that they're the time to wait tables in Buenos Aires and fall in love with all the wrong people because somehow it "doesn't count."
I love Meg's retort to that: there's a difference between exploration and procrastination. I agree wholeheartedly. To bring this back to me, what I sense about this time period is my person is being formed. My adult person. I know that what I'm doing now is determining how I will live and who I will spend time with. I'm building my identity capital by doing things that are important to me and I am picking my family. Even though I'm not married, I'm picking who I'll be in relation with, who I'll be an auntie to, who will be a part of my community.
I'm having some trouble articulating myself tonight because I'm quite tired, but her talk fires me up because it emphasizes to me there's no such thing as "later." What we do now defines our future. Her video emphasizes how important our 20s are and they're a point of power and change. I don't know how many times I've heard people say, "I wish I knew _____ when I was in my 20s." Let's make sure we don't have to say that again and let's make sure the 20-somethings in our lives hear such wisdom.
I dream of a world where we share the wisdom we know. A world where we realize the point of power is always in the now. A world where we make the most of all the time we have. A world where we embrace where we are yet make adjustments as needed.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
This blogpost has been written subliminally probably a thousand times. The notion is one of my life's guiding principles, so after watching a television episode about this very subject, I decided it was high time I write a proper post.
One of the characters on the T.V. show said, "What if the universe doesn't send us signs? What if we're just seeing what we want to see? Maybe the universe has better things to do than send us signs." I can understand why this character would say that. Heck, I've said it myself, but primarily when things didn't turn out the way I wanted or expected them too.
It's been a hard lesson for me to learn, that the universe is still communicating with me, when I don't get what I want. A few years ago I feel head over heels in love with a man who did not return my affections. I was crushed for many reasons, but the biggest was that I had received so many freaking signs and messages about this dude. I started to question everything, whether the universe really did communicate with me, whether I made the whole thing up, whether I only saw what I wanted to.
A picture I took in Washington, D.C. You would think this photo was staged but it wasn't! The guy on the left really was pointing in the same direction as the sign of his own accord!
About a week ago, I wrote a poem for the first time in years. Through this poem I came to realize all the signs and messages I received about this guy were necessary and true. Because of my heartbreak I got sober, started living in reality, and have been able to heal parts of myself that desperately needed healing. And because the universe is always communicating with us, I came across the most perfect Rumi quote days after writing that poem:
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Every time I find the perfect quote, run into a friend unexpectedly, see animals repeatedly in unusual places, etc. it's the universe communicating with me. And to be honest, I know when something is an authentic sign and when I'm trying to force it. A true sign will have a resonance in my heart. A true sign will give me the warm fuzzies. And a true sign will often appear in threes. It has been said there is a rule about threes and I find it to be true with signs as well.
I bring this all up because I think there's a belief we're separate from the world. That "the universe" is outside of us. That we're operating in different circles and why would the universe concern itself with the petty goings on of a mere person? The answer is: we're not separate. We are all cosmic stardust. We are the universe and the universe is us. So of course the universe is happy to play a part in our romantic lives because romantic love is one of the ways in which we experience the divine.
Rumi has another poem:
"The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.”
My interpretation of that poem is that the love we seek is already within us and sometimes we require another person to act as a mirror (or maybe a shovel) to bring it out of us. That exquisite feeling though, that love, is the universe in my opinion. Why wouldn't the universe want to remind us of deep, abiding, unconditional love? To remind us what we're working toward? And if we're not separate from the universe, doesn't it make complete sense the external world would be a reflection of our interior one? So when we ask a question it will be answered?
I dream of a world where we pay attention to signs and messages. A world where we understand there are benevolent energies that want to help us, that are happy to communicate with us. A world where we tune in and see how the world is speaking to us.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.