This week I felt like a cuckoo bird. Sitting in a room full of boxes in a new place will do that to me. I noticed that because I felt insecure in my living space (i.e., everything was new and disorganized), that also meant my insecurity regarding relationships came up. I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m anxious attachment, which in a nutshell means I feel uncertain in my relationships.
That anxiety and sensitivity was on hyperdrive this week as I found myself spinning out over the tiniest things. For instance, I texted my neighbor and when she didn’t respond right away I started thinking the worst: “She doesn’t want to talk to me! I’m bugging her! She regrets having me as her neighbor!” Of course, that wasn’t true and instead she was just busy, but still. When I’m in that anxious state I take everything personally. I try to read people’s minds and make every action, or inaction, of theirs a reflection on me. I want to modulate my behavior in order to maintain a connection with the person.
What I love about this picture is you think it’s just a drop on a leaf but it’s NOT! Kinda like how if you look closer you see things are between God and us.
Talk about making myself crazy, right?
One of the things that helped me so much with this is a quote misattributed to Mother Teresa. It’s a variant or paraphrase of The Paradoxical Commandments by Kent M. Keith, but I like the inaccurate quote better than the original:
“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”
Ahhhh. I’m breathing a sigh of relief just reading that again. Whenever I try to curb or modulate my behavior, I’m making it between us, when actually it’s between God and me. When I express my love for another, I’m really expressing my love for God in the form of a person, and it’s not up to me whether the person accepts it or not. That part is out of my hands. And because the universe is infinite and creative, it’s quite likely that if the person I’m expressing affection to rejects it, I’ll receive love from some other person. For God, there is no limit and there is no distinction.
What I’m saying is it doesn’t matter if my neighbor doesn’t text me back right away, or some guy rejects me, because it was never between us. It was between God and me anyway, and the more I shore up my relationship with my higher power, the better off I’ll be. The more that I stop taking things so personally and practice forgiveness, kindness, honesty, and service regardless of how people respond, the happier I will be.
I dream of a world where we we see relationships as an expression between God and ourselves. A world where we show up fully regardless of other people. A world where we value our relationship with ourselves because we understand ultimately everything is between God and us anyway.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Often when I’m praying it ends up resembling a wishlist. For instance, when I’m looking for a new place to live I’ll say, “Higher Power, please help me find a place to live that’s safe, quiet, fits all my belongings, in ____ neighborhood, with laundry onsite, plenty of storage space, and where I can see trees outside my window.” And then I start visualizing and fervently praying – or more like begging – saying “please, please, please” over and over again like a mantra.
And then I get what I asked for. Maybe not exactly – usually the neighborhood is a little further afield than I’d like – but all the other things are there. However, I get things I didn’t want either, like overprotective dogs, loud neighbors, poor insulation, or something else that compels me to leave. The trouble is, I don’t have all the information, and I won’t ever because I’m not omniscient. That leads me to believe that perhaps I don’t know what’s best for me after all and maybe I need to leave that up to an all-knowing entity.
This photo seems to encapsulate my idea of a prayer. Not sure why, but it does.
According to my beliefs, Higher Power, God, Brahma, the universe, whatever label you want, is omniscient, so it seems to me the best thing I can do is to align my will with the universe’s. One of the things that’s different about where I currently live – besides the impossible way it came about – is instead of having a wishlist, every morning I said, “Higher Power, please place me where you want me. I want what you want for me. I don’t know what’s best for me, only you do, so please align my will with yours.” And this apartment is what showed up. It’s everything I wanted and more, like being next door to a friend and within walking distance of a pool. I’m finding that when I leave things up to Higher Power, my wildest dreams are ant-sized compared with what lies ahead.
I have to believe because I did things differently, this living situation will turn out differently. Thus far it has. I moved in less than a week ago and already I’m more unpacked than I was in my last place. It’s not because I have more energy or more help, rather it’s because I want to unpack. I already feel settled in energetically so I want to settle in physically. With my last places, a part of me obviously knew they wouldn’t work out so why bother unpacking? I have to admit I’m still gun shy; I’m still worried something will be horrible about where I’m currently living that will compel me to move, but at least I can say I wasn’t trying to force my will. That instead I was in a state of surrender, acceptance, and openness. That it came about not through wishing but through praying.
I dream of a world where instead of prayers being wishlists we pray to align our will with a power greater than our own. A world where we understand we don’t know all the answers and we won’t ever, so we can’t possibly know what to ask for in the future. A world where we each live in a state of surrender, acceptance, and serenity.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
About six years ago a friend found a bookmark stashed between some pages and gave it to me. “Make the impossible possible,” it says. It’s been taped to my computer ever since. I love the idea of making the impossible possible (obviously), and this week there was evidence of just that.
As you know, I’ve been looking for a place to call my own for the millionth, billionth time. Since I came back to the Bay Area on New Year’s, I’ve been staying with various friends and in a little cottage I found through airbnb.com. A pretty miraculous thing that I mentioned is I’ve been easygoing about the whole “finding a place to live” situation. I haven’t been too worried about it because I just wasn’t, plus I pulled a petulant-child tantrum and said, “Universe, if you want me to live here, you have to find me a place to live!”
I get to live here! And by “here” I mean several miles away.
What unfolded was incredible. Every day I scoured craigslist multiple times waiting for something to show up. It never did. Everything in my price range was either a.) in a bad neighborhood b.) too small or c.) both. Yet I maintained my optimism that if I was supposed to look further afield, I would receive that guidance. Little did I know apartments would come to me and not the other way around.
A friend called me up and said he knew someone with a studio apartment in El Cerrito. She was currently listing it on airbnb.com, but he convinced her that she’d be better off renting it to me. I looked at the place . . . and it was too small. But still! How awesome that a friend thought of me and that I didn’t have to compete with 100 other people for it, something that seriously happens in the Bay Area?
Then on Wednesday, a friend posted on facebook that her neighbor was moving out of his one-bedroom apartment and was anyone interested in subletting from him? I’m not comfortable with subletting, but I think it’s important to follow through on opportunities when they present themselves. I walked up to the apartment – in Oakland, a place I didn’t want to live again – to find a quiet complex pulled back from the street, situated in such a way that there would be no neighbors above or below me because the ground floor is parking and there is no third floor, well-insulated, etc. I told my friend that I was interested but to check and see how much the landlords would raise the rent for a new tenant.
The landlords wanted to raise the rent by $200 a month, but because I’m a friend of their current tenant, they agreed to $100 instead, which is the max I can pay. I filled out an application and the first time I met the landlords was when I was SIGNING THE LEASE. No advertising on craigslist, no meeting me, and just like that, I have an apartment that while not perfect, seems like it will meet my needs. It even has laundry onsite, which for the rent I’m paying is practically unheard of in this market. Oh and I have my own garage, which is even more unheard of.
It may not sound like all of this is impossible, but that’s kind of the point. How many things do we think are impossible that are actually plausible? How many times are we certain something won’t happen to us when it might, or it does? I won’t say that I “made” the impossible possible, but I will say the universe is infinite and creative and perhaps there are more things existing in the realm of reason than we think.
I dream of a world where we realize impossible things are happening every day. A world where we realize there are more potentials than we give the universe credit for. A world where we allow for more magic and mystery in our lives.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a tendency to romanticize/idealize places. I think that if only I could live in _______ all my problems will be solved. That’s an exaggeration, but not by much.
I suffer from sleep problems, as in, I don’t sleep well and I’m extremely sensitive to noise even with a white noise machine and earplugs. People kept telling me to move to a super remote place because remote places are quieter, and then I’d be able to sleep through the night. So I did. I temporarily moved to a retreat site in Missouri where the closest town – 20 minutes away – has a population of 2,000 people.
The grass is NOT greener on the other side.
When I got there, I found that the grass was not greener, so to speak, but just as green as anywhere else. Much to my surprise I still had problems sleeping – a train ran through nearby with a loud whistle, I heard planes flying overhead, the hum of the refrigerator bugged me, etc. I don’t regret the decision because moving to Missouri gave me a sense of freedom and relief I hadn’t experienced in probably years. I didn’t worry about anyone playing loud music on the weekends because I couldn’t even see my closest neighbors. I checked the mail whenever I wanted (in my last place the mailbox was locked and the key hung in my landlady’s house); if I needed a trash bag I walked into the main house and grabbed one. If I needed some spices I went to the commercial kitchen to get them.
Missouri was good for my soul but not for my body – alas, I still wasn’t sleeping. The whole thing made me realize external places are not what need to change, I need to change. I broke down and bought myself some sleep headphones, i.e. headphones specifically designed for sleeping, which I didn’t know existed until about a month ago. If being literally in the middle of nowhere was still too noisy for me, clearly nowhere except a sensory deprivation tank will be quiet enough.
Mostly what this all means, what I’m taking away from the experience, is nowhere is a magic bullet, nowhere will cure all my problems because the majority of my problems are internal. That’s not to say some places aren’t better than others – some places are more suited to my needs, but it’s unrealistic to think moving somewhere will make all my troubles disappear. More likely, I’ll have new and different problems. No place is a utopia as much as I like to fantasize about one. I do think the world can be a better place, but again and again I see a “utopia” manifests with effort and perseverance, not some magic wand or a plane ticket.
I dream of a world where we realize going somewhere else won’t make our troubles disappear, they might just go into hiding for a while. A world where we realize usually we are the ones that need to change. A world where instead of fantasizing about a place where the grass is greener, we realize the grass is just as green.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
I’ve been sharing this with people and it seems to touch them so I’m sharing it with you too.
I think I was always meant to live in my current space for a short period of time. When I first moved in my mom came down to help me get settled (bless her). We went to every big box store and thrift store around searching for things I would need to make my space more comfortable. Stuff like a standing lamp. We searched everywhere and couldn’t find one. In fact, the closest we came was a lamp at Goodwill that after the employee plugged it in, sparked and gave him an electric shock.
Instead of a standing lamp I’m using this paper lantern, which I had in my closet, so another instance of being taken care of in advance!
I think higher power created a block so I wouldn’t invest in my living space, in this case monetarily. I think I was prevented from finding the more expensive things I needed for this spot in particular because I was never meant to be here long.
When things don’t go my way I rail against the universe, stew in frustration, and think the whole world is against me. I’m seeing, yet again, that perhaps when things don’t go my way, it’s because they’re not supposed to. That actually, even I’m not supposed to go that way. That’s not to say moving in here was a mistake – it wasn’t – but clearly, this is a short-term fling.
Some things require hard work and patience, but I’m starting to see when there’s one road block after another, when the universe keeps putting up signs that say, “Stop. Don’t go this way,” maybe it’s because it’s better for me to not go that way! That not all obstacles are meant to be overcome. That some obstacles are the universe’s way of taking care of me.
I’m focusing on housing in this post, but I think the concept applies to other things too – jobs, relationships, opportunities. Maybe when there’s one obstacle after another after another, higher power is saying, “Turn around.” And maybe when we’re not allowed to invest financially or emotionally it’s because it’s better if we don’t. I can only imagine how angry and bitter I would feel if my landlady blew up at me and asked me to move out after I spent a lot of money fixing my place up and unpacked everything. At the moment, some of my stuff is still in boxes and there are no pictures on the walls. Not to mention, I saved almost all of my moving boxes so obviously on some level I knew this was coming. And even though I don’t enjoy this turn of events, I can still sit back and see how I’m taken care of in advance.
I dream of a world where we understand some obstacles are for our benefit. A world where we realize not every obstacle is meant to be overcome. A world where we understand sometimes things don’t work out and it’s for our own good. A world where we see we’re taken care of in advance.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The number of romantic interludes I’ve had is embarrassingly low. Like, so low many of you would be shocked. However, it was pointed out to me the other day the way I talk about places to live, other people talk about romantic relationships. And then it hit me – what other people experience in their dating life, I experience in my home life.
I have moved 32 times (roughly) in 29 years and in that time I’ve experienced a LOT. I’ve had short-term flings (i.e. sublets); I’ve experienced love at first sight – my apartment in San Francisco – which has now turned into a phantom ex, the one I measure all others against. I’ve also had the experience of my love turning into a nightmare and lamenting how it happened – I’m talking about how my San Francisco upstairs neighbor started playing loud music and I didn’t sleep for four months.
Others date people, I date homes. Maybe I could move here, it looks nice!
I’ve moved into places that sounded good on paper, places I liked well enough but didn’t love – like my in-law unit in Balboa Park with a yippy dog – that eventually drove me nuts. I’ve remained good friends with exes, such as places in Washington, D.C., and we catch up every so often. I’ve “dated” apartments with kids (i.e. had a roommate with a child), and savored foreign lovers – there is a hotel in Vienna that I go back to year after year with pleasure.
In my current place, it wasn’t love at first sight, but we liked one another, it had all the qualities I’m looking for, but it turns out my apartment can’t commit. I’m sad to say, my landlady blew up at me unexpectedly and asked me to move out before my lease is up. I do have a lease, so I’m not sure when I’m moving, but at the moment we’re in that awkward space of knowing our “relationship” is coming to an end. In the interim, we are linked due to circumstances.
Not to mention I’ve been on loads of first dates (i.e. going to look at a place after first reading about it on Craigslist), attended tons of parties (open houses), and been rejected countless times. And I find myself wanting places that don’t want me – places that sound so intriguing and perfect but can’t be bothered to give me the time of day. And the reverse – places have wanted me that I haven’t.
The feelings that other people have in romance – the hope, the excitement, the euphoria, the resentment, the disappointment, the anger, the heartbreak – I’ve experienced in finding places to live. I bring this up because I’m a teensy bit ashamed of my paltry dating life, but now I see the universe is infinite and unlimited and so I’m having similar experiences in an unconventional way. Unconventional doesn’t mean bad, it means unusual. It doesn’t mean I’m any less equipped to deal with a partner when he comes along because I’m feeling the same things other people are, just in a different way.
I wrote this post because I find the situation to be funny, but also because maybe you think in some ways you don’t measure up. Maybe you feel ashamed because you’re not having the same experiences other people are having. I’m here to tell you, maybe you are and you’re unaware of it. Maybe life isn’t so much about a route or a path as it is about feelings. Maybe every person is supposed to experience hope, excitement, euphoria, resentment, disappointment, anger, and heartbreak, and it’s the emotions that count, not the particulars.
I dream of a world where we don’t discount our emotions. A world where we stop comparing ourselves to others, always coming up short. A world where we realize feelings count more than circumstances. A world where we embrace our unconventional selves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a slight phobia of wheels. Roller skates, bicycles, cars, scooters – all of them scare me; not as a passenger, but when I’m in charge, heck yeah. My heart starts to pound and my rational brain leaves the building. It’s hard for me to concentrate, to remember all the little things that come so naturally to many. It would be great if a phobia was like other fears in that it abates the more often you engage with whatever it is you’re afraid of, but it’s not.
I like Wikipedia’s explanation of phobias the best:
“[A phobia is] a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding, typically disproportional to the actual danger posed, often being recognized as irrational. In the event the phobia cannot be avoided entirely, the sufferer will endure the situation or object with marked distress.”
This means that it doesn’t matter how often I drive a car (and I have — I’ve owned two cars, driven across the country, driven long distances by myself, driven in cities, etc.), the fear never goes away. It may lessen, but it’s ever present. I bring all this up because last week I bought this bad boy:
My new scooter! Ain’t it pretty?
For those of you who can’t tell, that’s a Piaggio Fly 150 scooter. Last week I moved to a quiet, safe neighborhood just over the Oakland hills that necessitates I have wheels of some kind. Because I can’t afford a car, voila, a scooter. I like riding my scooter; it’s fun, but it’s also scary because of my phobia to operating wheels. I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself to ride further and faster than I’m comfortable with because I kind of have to. The closest bus stop is a mile and a half away, and the closest BART station (the train system for those of you who don’t know) is six miles away.
In our culture of “just do it,” I feel like I should be able to “get over” my fear and drive the thing in heavy traffic and be completely fine. That I should be able to drive to the BART station no problem. But it is. I can’t force myself to be ready when I’m not. Yes, there is such a thing as paralysis, of complete avoidance, but there’s also such a thing as pushing myself too fast too far. I’m taking my scooter out every day to feel more comfortable handling it, to build up my confidence, but there’s no need to rush.
I bring this up because perhaps you feel like you “should” be somewhere you’re not. That you “should” quit your job already, or move, or be ready for another relationship, or whatever. I’m here to tell you (and me) it’s OK if you’re not. You don’t have to be ready faster than you are. It’s fine to go at your own pace and do things when you’re really ready. Yesterday I rode my scooter all the way to the grocery store because I was ready. I was afraid, but I was also ready to push myself to that limit. Instead of embracing the philosophy, “Ready or not, here I come!” I’m embracing the philosophy of gentleness, of going slowly at my own pace, because I’m not ready yet to go certain distances, but I know I will be.
I dream of a world where we don’t force ourselves to be ready when we’re not. A world where we allow ourselves to go at a pace we can handle. A world where we are gentle with ourselves, taking our time, easing off the pressure because we understand when it comes to “ready or not,” sometimes the answer is, “Not.”
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This post isn’t really about the “nose” knowing so much as the body knowing something the brain does not.
I have moved more times than years I’ve been alive. Not all of my moves have been major – sometimes it was a matter of moving from one furnished sublet to another – but needless to say, I’ve lived in a LOT of places. Given my history, I think it’s understandable why I’m hesitant to jump into new housing situations. Primarily, I’m scared of making a mistake, of putting myself in a worse position than previously. I’m scared of the unknown, of the “what ifs,” of the things I can’t possibly know yet.
The nose knows! Especially Groucho Marx’s.
When I said “yes” to the place I’m moving into at the end of the month, it wasn’t an impulsive decision. I talked it over, thought it over, made a pro/con list. I felt paralyzed with indecision due to fear. “Would this place be worse? Will it be something I regret? Would it have been better to stay put?”
What helped me to make the decision with more peace of mind was paying attention to my body. I took my mind out of the equation and put my complete attention on the sensations in my body. When I thought about moving into my new place, I felt warm, at peace, relieved. There was some slight anxiety in my upper back, but for the most part, I felt great about the decision. When I thought about continuing to look for a place, I tensed up, my stomach clenched, I felt terrible about the decision, so obviously my body was saying, “Move. Move. Moooooooove.”
I realize not everyone has moved as often as I have, but I’d wager that we’ve all experienced indecision. That our minds have become like hamster wheels we’ve been unable to leave. Reason and logic do not work for me in these instances. I have to bypass my brain and go straight to my body and get in touch with the wisdom there. I do not know everything and I cannot know everything, but my body can give me more information. Thank goodness because otherwise I might still be looking for my “perfect” place to live.
I dream of a world where we get in touch with our bodies and examine the sensations we’re experiencing. A world where we understand our bodies may provide us with a wisdom that our brains cannot. A world where we realize the nose knows.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m reposting this primarily because I need a reminder that the impossible is possible. In fact, the word “impossible” even says, “i’m possible” in it. I realize it may seem strange to emphasis that dreams come true, that what I want can be made manifest, when the cottage I reference in this post is the very one I’m moving out of as soon as I find something else, but I have no regrets. My cottage has served its purpose, it’s what I wanted at the time, it was everything I wished for or thought I could live with, and now it’s time for a new dream, for a new fantasy to come to life.
I’ve been accused on more than one occasion, and by more than one person, of “living in Dreamsville,” aka, Fantasyland, 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.
This looks like a nice place to live. Maybe I can live here.
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).
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.
I know I wrote a blog a few years ago with this same title, but I couldn’t resist using it again because today is May 4th and the next Star Wars cast recently came out. I mean, this title was practically begging to be used.
So, ahem, I’m looking for a new place to live (again!). Since I got back from Vienna in March, it’s been one thing after another with my cottage. Nothing major, little things like my internet not working, my toilet not flushing, my water getting turned off due to a sewer complication, etc. But it’s been enough to remind me, “I don’t like living here.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I moved in, this cottage has been great for what it was, for what I needed at the time, but now I’m ready for something different. Something better. Something more in line with my heart’s desires.
I almost posted a Star Wars pic but I thought that would be overkill. . .
Coupled with my desire to leave is a wee bit of desperation and impatience (for good measure). Whenever I come across something on Craigslist that even remotely suits my needs (i.e. quiet, safe neighborhood, in my price range), I jump on it. If I can’t attend the open house, panic consumes me because, “What if this is my place to live and I’m missing out and nothing like it will show up again and then I’ll be stuck here forever and ever?” I liken it to Black Friday syndrome. You know that phenomenon when people wait outside a department store at 4 a.m. and as soon as the store opens they start grabbing stuff willy-nilly, even if the item is not exactly what they want, but it’s close, and they don’t want someone else to buy the item instead?
I feel that way about housing. The apartment may not be exactly what I’m looking for, but competition is fierce, and I want to move, and what if I don’t find anything better, so gosh darn it, I’ll take it! I have to keep reminding myself desperation and impatience have gotten me into some pickles in the past, so, no, I cannot force myself into saying yes because I’m afraid nothing better will come along.
I realize I’m picky about housing, and believe me, I wish I wasn’t, but a part of accepting myself as I am is realizing if I don’t live somewhere I love, nothing works properly in my life. My health suffers, my work suffers, my friendships suffer. Housing is the hub from which everything else emanates for me so I must not force myself to say yes to anything less than what my heart desires. I must wait until what I’m looking for comes along; reminding myself the world is abundant, despite what my mind tells me.
Obviously this applies not only to housing, but to everything. A million years ago I wrote my sister a birthday card and told her, “Never settle for anything because that’s exactly what you’ll get.” Compromises and adjustments need to be made, absolutely, but compromising is not the same thing as settling in my book.
I dream of a world where we don’t settle for anything less than what our hearts and souls desire. A world where we keep the faith, and have patience that we want will come along. A world where we don’t force ourselves to say “yes” out of fear and desperation, but because we really mean it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.