This morning, after I made my "to-do" list for the day, I began to feel tension fill up my shoulders, the back of my neck, and up into the back of my head. Oh, joy. Did I just create a chain reaction of resistance in my body? Isn't that what tension is? Unlike other times when I just had "flare-ups" with no known cause, I was very aware this time that I was resisting many of the tasks I wrote on this list. But once the tension came on, I was stuck with it.
I might as well tell you what I've been thinking about this last week.
I've been comparing my life with jigsaw puzzles only on another level than what I described in the chapter titled "Jigsaw Puzzles" in my memoir, Appearances.
In November of 2015, during Black Friday, Amazon had sent me an email that their Amazon Fire tablet was on sale. I bought it. I absolutely LOVE it! Immediately, it found all the Kindle books I had on my older Kindle plus the Audible books I purchased. However, I rarely have time to read any Kindle books. I am too busy reading all the posts on Facebook along with all the emails I get in between trying to get all the tasks on my to-do list done. I have a bookcase full of books I rarely get to touch.
I get Facebook and emails on my Fire in a different format than on my computer which makes it easier to browse through them. I still have to return to my computer to share certain posts onto one of many Facebook pages I manage, but I can quickly check on family and close friends. It can't do EVERYTHING my computer can do, but it does a lot.
While everyone else is using iPads and more expensive tablets, I am satisfied with my Fire. And for relaxation before bed, while I listen to an Audio book, it has jigsaw puzzles for me to do. You can do the puzzles at multiple levels of complexity 35, 70, 140, or 280 pieces. I started out with 70 and advanced to 140. I also do the same puzzles over and over again with the hope of being able to complete them a little faster.
I have never played a video game, but I'm sure these puzzles are an equivalent. I'm addicted. They allow my mind to zone out. When I am doing the puzzles, I'm unaware of my thoughts. Perhaps this is not a good thing. It's important to be aware of your thoughts so you can steer undesirable ones into positive ones.
When all the tasks on my to-do list get overwhelming, I have to go for a walk, visit a neighbor, shift gears... or do a puzzle. Maybe more than one puzzle. At night, when my brain won't shut off, I can do a puzzle or two as well. Oh-oh. Could I be developing Electronic Puzzle Syndrome?
Puzzles. I could easily divide all my tasks up on single puzzle pieces and then try to fit them all together.
For a while I went from writing lists to writing tasks on little sticky notes. Then I needed a change and wrote individual tasks on little pieces of paper. Recently I started with lists again. Maybe not a good idea.
With puzzles, I get to see what the finished picture is before I get started.
I have all these pieces (tasks) I've been taking on (volunteering, researching, studying, writing, promoting, publishing, etc.) but I can't see how they are all connected. Should they be? Yes, I know, "should" is one of the 10 forms of twisted thinking. I'll have to let that go.
I want to know... what does my finished picture LOOK like? Self-confidence? The feeling I get when the knowledge I acquire ends up helping someone I know or will soon meet?
Is there a way to eliminate the pieces that don't belong in my picture? And if 140 pieces is too complex and stressful, what if I made my life a 70 piece puzzle instead? Or a 35? Or are there many finished puzzles with similar shaped pieces?
All the puzzles on my Fire tablet have the same shaped pieces even though there are different pictures so after awhile I become more familiar with them even though they are different colors and patterns. After I learn everything I am trying to learn right now, will it all become easier? Like the puzzles?
And then I saw it. Page 258 in Vianna Stibel's Theta Healing book. (Yes, I'm studying Theta Healing right now, too. -- Ooh! I am actually reading a real live book!)
Vianna describes the Indigo child as follows:
"In major decisions an Indigo can become almost flighty. This is because they are born with many traits of an artist. They are easily confused about what they want to do in life, assuming that they have to pick only one specific career."
This has been me my entire life! No wonder!!!! Then I started to read more about Indigo Children. (Yes, more research.) The more I read about Indigo's the more I found me in this category of human beings.
Years ago, when I first started to read information about Indigo Children (because I have extraordinary nieces and nephews as well as an extraordinary son), I had never entertained the notion that I could be one, too, which includes the following additional characteristics:
I have always been sensitive to energy and hypersensitive even neurologically (with a label of Fibromyalgia). I was empathic as a child and took on all the intense emotions of my family members before I was old enough to realize I had been doing so. While other kids were being mean and pulling pranks, I never understood why. Weren't people supposed to be good? I felt like I landed on the #wrong planet and withdrew into my own little world.
Oh dear, now I'm getting caught up in adding another Label to my existence. But at least I really like this new one!!! It explains so much!! It makes me feel so much more NORMAL.
Does anything in my post resonate with you? Maybe you're an Indigo, too? Or a Gold, Silver, or Rainbow Child? Please comment below.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Inspirational Toastmaster Speeches
Yesterday, I went to my first Toastmaster Division International Speech and Evaluation Contest which took place in Cedar Park. I didn't carpool with the others in my group because it would be faster to drive directly from my place vs. driving 35 minutes to connect with the others and then riding with them another hour.
My first challenge was to get there as my sense of direction isn't very good and it's hard for me to get anywhere without a person in the passenger seat looking at a map or directions and telling me which way to turn. At the beginning of the month, after telling someone in another group I belong to how I got lost in Austin the week before, I received a TomTom GPS from the lady who owned the house where we met. I found out it was outdated after trying it out on routes I was already familiar with and hoped it would get me to my destination even if it took me the long way around. The TomTom has a very pleasing female voice and I enjoy hearing her tell me which way to turn and how much further I have to drive before turning. I even love how she tells me to turn around if I am going the wrong way. I did manage to get to my destination!
If you're not familiar with Toastmasters, a LOT has to be said in an organized way in 5-7 minutes for "international" contest speeches. A timer is in charge of keeping speakers on track. Unlike the red, yellow, and green file folders we use in our club, this facility had a giant yellow traffic light with red, yellow, and green lights.
I jotted down notes while I was listening to the speakers so I could remember them, but I don't have enough information to state all the details accurately. The following account is mostly true to the best I can recall.
First, there was a 'test' speaker, who gave an account of his travels and places he'd lived--and how he fell in love with a certain festival and all the medals he began to collect from each one he attended. I forget which festival he told us about. Toward the end, he pulled out of a wide sash with his entire collection! I identified with this speaker because some of the places he described were places I'd lived. Six contestants evaluated his speech and we heard their reports later on in the contest.
Next were speaker contestants: I was deeply moved by 5 of the 6 speeches which included personal stories of transcending challenges such as childhood abuse, neglect, and/or disabilities. Since I personally have dealt with many of my own challenges, the speeches left me INSPIRED.
Speaker 1: David Dauber. David is confined to a wheel-chair due to Cerebral Palsy. His legs and body have to be strapped to the chair and he only has the use of one of his hands. His voice is deep and projects well. He demonstrated what his wheel-chair could do by pushing a button that raised him up to almost standing position. While he couldn't walk around the stage, he steered the wheel-chair around the stage instead. He spoke about his handicap and the two things that have made a difference for him: laughter and showing others appreciation. Despite this man's challenges, he's an actor, owns a business, and is married. I thought about Robert, the man my dwarf cousin married, a man who had been afflicted with polio when he was a child which stunted the growth of his legs and distorted his spine. He was unstoppable and went on to get a college degree and earn a good living in a computer-related career. He met my cousin at a "Little People's Club," they got married, and had a son who grew to be about 6 feet tall. Then they adopted a girl born without an arm/shoulder from Russia. In that family, you are not limited by what your body can do. You adapt with what you have. Anyway, I found David's website here: http://www.knowbility.org/v/staff-detail/David-Dauber/8g/
Speaker 2: Raef Lambert. Raif told an entertaining story of how he grew up in a 3rd world country and how stupid 12-year old boys are. He was one of them. I raised one, so he held my interest. In that country, children were unsupervised and had the run of where-ever they wanted to go. I was intrigued by his brief description of what life was like for him there. Then he began to tell us about his attempt to impress a girl when he was 12. He discovered a yard with (a transformer?) one day when the gate was left open and found out it sent a buzz-like energy (electricity) through his body when he touched it. He devised a plan to get the girl in there with him. He'd lean over to kiss her while he was touching this thing so the electricity would go through him into her. She'd think it was coming from HIM and he'd be special. Well, she was wet (or the ground was wet) when he made the attempt and a lot more than a few volts of electricity went through both of them! Needless to say, he did NOT impress her and she never talked to him again. Raef's curiosity led him to Austin where he got a college degree and he is now a Business Analyst. You can find him on Linkedin here: https://www.linkedin.com/in/raef-lambert-61680889
Speaker 3: Tim Manson. Tim is in our very own club. I've always been impressed with Tim's light-hearted sense of humor and his ability to transcend his disabling MS condition. In this speech, I learned how he's been able to do this. His speech was titled ENOUGH! His story weaved through time from childhood to where he is now... the leg brace he had to wear as a toddler, all the times he was thrown from a bull in his attempt to stay on one as a bull-rider... breaking both of his legs one of those times... then onto being diagnosed with MS, a condition my doctor thought I had even though nothing had shown up in tests. The stubborn determination he had to keep getting back up each time a bull threw him off prepared him for getting back up after flare-ups with MS. He concluded with ENOUGH! You can never get enough sunrises, smiles, blue skies, etc. Wow! Tim won 3rd Place. Here is information about Tim: http://publicspeakingsuperpowers.com/featured-speakers/tim-manson/ and his website is: http://www.innovativehorizons.com/
Speaker 4: Melvin Banks. Melvin had a large portrait of when he was a small child brought out onto the stage before he began speaking. He began his speech with "Are you the one?" as he pointed to several people in the audience. His tale was how he had been humiliated by his father and teachers and believed he was stupid. Because he believed he was stupid, he never tried. Then one day, he got a new teacher who walked up behind him during a test and after seeing him write the correct answer to a math problem, whispered to him: "I KNEW you were smart!" He spoke about how powerful our words are and I related very well. My own father, whose name happened to be Melvin, often blurted out "You're stupid!" "You'll never amount to anything!" I had tried really hard to be smarter and better but was never "enough." I wasn't blessed with a teacher like Melvin was who said the right words. Melvin went on to get a college degree and is now an Inspirational Speaker and Coach for his own business "Banks Coaching & Consulting." I may be 60 and barely getting started, but if I live another 30 years, I still have time to make something of myself! Melvin won 1st Place. Here's where you can find more information about Melvin: http://www.speakermatch.com/profile/melvinbanks/
Speaker 5: Adrian Russell. Adrian entertained us with a story of wanting to run away when he was a child to be in a carnival. His father was an abusive alcoholic and his mother had stayed with him because she lacked the courage to leave. However, at some point, she made a different choice so Adrian had stayed. I immediately identified with Adrian. There were 5 kids in his family, there were 6 in mine. My father wasn't an alcoholic but he was verbally and sometimes physically abusive. I wanted so many times for my mother to leave him but she felt incapable of surviving without his measly paycheck or the house they owned together (even though it was mortgaged.) I couldn't find anything on Adrian. If I do find something, I'll add it later. I remember he said in his finale he went on to get a college degree, has had great success in life, and has an impressive career. Adrian won 2nd Place.
This concludes my 'observation' of the event. To date, I have completed 7 out of the 10 speeches I need to complete in order to get my CC (Competent Communicator.) I am also working on my CL (Competent Leadership.) It only took almost 3 hours for me to write this. If you're looking for a group to thrive in, I highly recommend Toastmasters! As one person said in the closing interviews when asked why he joined, he said it was a place to get an education without student loans! I absolutely agree!
My first challenge was to get there as my sense of direction isn't very good and it's hard for me to get anywhere without a person in the passenger seat looking at a map or directions and telling me which way to turn. At the beginning of the month, after telling someone in another group I belong to how I got lost in Austin the week before, I received a TomTom GPS from the lady who owned the house where we met. I found out it was outdated after trying it out on routes I was already familiar with and hoped it would get me to my destination even if it took me the long way around. The TomTom has a very pleasing female voice and I enjoy hearing her tell me which way to turn and how much further I have to drive before turning. I even love how she tells me to turn around if I am going the wrong way. I did manage to get to my destination!
If you're not familiar with Toastmasters, a LOT has to be said in an organized way in 5-7 minutes for "international" contest speeches. A timer is in charge of keeping speakers on track. Unlike the red, yellow, and green file folders we use in our club, this facility had a giant yellow traffic light with red, yellow, and green lights.
I jotted down notes while I was listening to the speakers so I could remember them, but I don't have enough information to state all the details accurately. The following account is mostly true to the best I can recall.
First, there was a 'test' speaker, who gave an account of his travels and places he'd lived--and how he fell in love with a certain festival and all the medals he began to collect from each one he attended. I forget which festival he told us about. Toward the end, he pulled out of a wide sash with his entire collection! I identified with this speaker because some of the places he described were places I'd lived. Six contestants evaluated his speech and we heard their reports later on in the contest.
Next were speaker contestants: I was deeply moved by 5 of the 6 speeches which included personal stories of transcending challenges such as childhood abuse, neglect, and/or disabilities. Since I personally have dealt with many of my own challenges, the speeches left me INSPIRED.
Speaker 1: David Dauber. David is confined to a wheel-chair due to Cerebral Palsy. His legs and body have to be strapped to the chair and he only has the use of one of his hands. His voice is deep and projects well. He demonstrated what his wheel-chair could do by pushing a button that raised him up to almost standing position. While he couldn't walk around the stage, he steered the wheel-chair around the stage instead. He spoke about his handicap and the two things that have made a difference for him: laughter and showing others appreciation. Despite this man's challenges, he's an actor, owns a business, and is married. I thought about Robert, the man my dwarf cousin married, a man who had been afflicted with polio when he was a child which stunted the growth of his legs and distorted his spine. He was unstoppable and went on to get a college degree and earn a good living in a computer-related career. He met my cousin at a "Little People's Club," they got married, and had a son who grew to be about 6 feet tall. Then they adopted a girl born without an arm/shoulder from Russia. In that family, you are not limited by what your body can do. You adapt with what you have. Anyway, I found David's website here: http://www.knowbility.org/v/staff-detail/David-Dauber/8g/
Speaker 2: Raef Lambert. Raif told an entertaining story of how he grew up in a 3rd world country and how stupid 12-year old boys are. He was one of them. I raised one, so he held my interest. In that country, children were unsupervised and had the run of where-ever they wanted to go. I was intrigued by his brief description of what life was like for him there. Then he began to tell us about his attempt to impress a girl when he was 12. He discovered a yard with (a transformer?) one day when the gate was left open and found out it sent a buzz-like energy (electricity) through his body when he touched it. He devised a plan to get the girl in there with him. He'd lean over to kiss her while he was touching this thing so the electricity would go through him into her. She'd think it was coming from HIM and he'd be special. Well, she was wet (or the ground was wet) when he made the attempt and a lot more than a few volts of electricity went through both of them! Needless to say, he did NOT impress her and she never talked to him again. Raef's curiosity led him to Austin where he got a college degree and he is now a Business Analyst. You can find him on Linkedin here: https://www.linkedin.com/in/raef-lambert-61680889
Speaker 3: Tim Manson. Tim is in our very own club. I've always been impressed with Tim's light-hearted sense of humor and his ability to transcend his disabling MS condition. In this speech, I learned how he's been able to do this. His speech was titled ENOUGH! His story weaved through time from childhood to where he is now... the leg brace he had to wear as a toddler, all the times he was thrown from a bull in his attempt to stay on one as a bull-rider... breaking both of his legs one of those times... then onto being diagnosed with MS, a condition my doctor thought I had even though nothing had shown up in tests. The stubborn determination he had to keep getting back up each time a bull threw him off prepared him for getting back up after flare-ups with MS. He concluded with ENOUGH! You can never get enough sunrises, smiles, blue skies, etc. Wow! Tim won 3rd Place. Here is information about Tim: http://publicspeakingsuperpowers.com/featured-speakers/tim-manson/ and his website is: http://www.innovativehorizons.com/
Speaker 4: Melvin Banks. Melvin had a large portrait of when he was a small child brought out onto the stage before he began speaking. He began his speech with "Are you the one?" as he pointed to several people in the audience. His tale was how he had been humiliated by his father and teachers and believed he was stupid. Because he believed he was stupid, he never tried. Then one day, he got a new teacher who walked up behind him during a test and after seeing him write the correct answer to a math problem, whispered to him: "I KNEW you were smart!" He spoke about how powerful our words are and I related very well. My own father, whose name happened to be Melvin, often blurted out "You're stupid!" "You'll never amount to anything!" I had tried really hard to be smarter and better but was never "enough." I wasn't blessed with a teacher like Melvin was who said the right words. Melvin went on to get a college degree and is now an Inspirational Speaker and Coach for his own business "Banks Coaching & Consulting." I may be 60 and barely getting started, but if I live another 30 years, I still have time to make something of myself! Melvin won 1st Place. Here's where you can find more information about Melvin: http://www.speakermatch.com/profile/melvinbanks/
Speaker 5: Adrian Russell. Adrian entertained us with a story of wanting to run away when he was a child to be in a carnival. His father was an abusive alcoholic and his mother had stayed with him because she lacked the courage to leave. However, at some point, she made a different choice so Adrian had stayed. I immediately identified with Adrian. There were 5 kids in his family, there were 6 in mine. My father wasn't an alcoholic but he was verbally and sometimes physically abusive. I wanted so many times for my mother to leave him but she felt incapable of surviving without his measly paycheck or the house they owned together (even though it was mortgaged.) I couldn't find anything on Adrian. If I do find something, I'll add it later. I remember he said in his finale he went on to get a college degree, has had great success in life, and has an impressive career. Adrian won 2nd Place.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Benefits of Expressive Writing
(New blog post (from a portion of the speech I gave on January 22 at Toastmasters and January 23 at the Local Author Fest in Lampasas.)
In this post, I am going to talk about the many psychological benefits of expressive writing which I can personally vouch for. The Journal of the American Medical Association published a study in 1999 that linked writing about stressful life experiences to improved health. Joshua Smyth, the study’s co-author explained that the health benefits were a result of cognitive restructuring—learning to think about problems in a new way—along with changing levels of stress and anxiety. The lasting benefit comes from seeing the problems in a new light and a new perspective.
Dr. James W. Pennebaker, a professor in the Department of Psychology at The University of Texas at Austin is a pioneer in the study of using expressive writing as a route to healing. His research has shown that short-term focused writing can have a beneficial effect on everyone from those dealing with a terminal illness (pause) to victims of violent crime (pause) to college students facing first-year transitions. He believes that writing about stressful events helps you come to terms with them, thus reducing the impact of these stressors on your physical health. Writing removes mental blocks and allows you to use all of your brainpower to better understand yourself, others, and the world around you.
In a blogpost on Pictures and Stories.com titled The Mental Health Benefits of Writing a Memoir, the author wrote: “writing can help your brain and your spirit to create order out of chaos. Just the act of organizing your past into a system, whether chronological or otherwise, can help you see your life in a different way and, according to neuroscientists, can even change your brain’s organic structure. Organizing your life into a structure, looking for patterns, and finding the words to express yourself is great mental exercise. Looking at the past can remind us of how tough we must be, because, hey, we’re still here.” For sure, I am definitely still here!
The blog I started in 2011 and writing my 2 memoirs did all these things for me. I was amazed at how much wisdom began to flow through my fingers while I wrote about my experiences—especially the stressful and traumatic ones. Indeed, I found order out of the chaos and developed new perspectives. I even became healthier and stronger in the process.
Life is a journey, not a destination. I encourage each of you to explore the very essence of who you are, heal your emotional wounds (we all have some), and write about your journey. Writing, indeed, is very therapeutic and no matter what is going on in your life, when you write your stories, they can live in a book instead of festering in your mind. As I state on the back cover of my 2nd memoir, Love-Life-&-God: Getting Past the Pain: “now the past is just a story… one I told in this book.”
Whether you decide to share your story with just family or publish on Amazon, print-on-demand technology has made anything possible. Please post a comment below and share your personal experience of how writing has made a difference in your life!
In this post, I am going to talk about the many psychological benefits of expressive writing which I can personally vouch for. The Journal of the American Medical Association published a study in 1999 that linked writing about stressful life experiences to improved health. Joshua Smyth, the study’s co-author explained that the health benefits were a result of cognitive restructuring—learning to think about problems in a new way—along with changing levels of stress and anxiety. The lasting benefit comes from seeing the problems in a new light and a new perspective.
Dr. James W. Pennebaker, a professor in the Department of Psychology at The University of Texas at Austin is a pioneer in the study of using expressive writing as a route to healing. His research has shown that short-term focused writing can have a beneficial effect on everyone from those dealing with a terminal illness (pause) to victims of violent crime (pause) to college students facing first-year transitions. He believes that writing about stressful events helps you come to terms with them, thus reducing the impact of these stressors on your physical health. Writing removes mental blocks and allows you to use all of your brainpower to better understand yourself, others, and the world around you.
In a blogpost on Pictures and Stories.com titled The Mental Health Benefits of Writing a Memoir, the author wrote: “writing can help your brain and your spirit to create order out of chaos. Just the act of organizing your past into a system, whether chronological or otherwise, can help you see your life in a different way and, according to neuroscientists, can even change your brain’s organic structure. Organizing your life into a structure, looking for patterns, and finding the words to express yourself is great mental exercise. Looking at the past can remind us of how tough we must be, because, hey, we’re still here.” For sure, I am definitely still here!
The blog I started in 2011 and writing my 2 memoirs did all these things for me. I was amazed at how much wisdom began to flow through my fingers while I wrote about my experiences—especially the stressful and traumatic ones. Indeed, I found order out of the chaos and developed new perspectives. I even became healthier and stronger in the process.
Life is a journey, not a destination. I encourage each of you to explore the very essence of who you are, heal your emotional wounds (we all have some), and write about your journey. Writing, indeed, is very therapeutic and no matter what is going on in your life, when you write your stories, they can live in a book instead of festering in your mind. As I state on the back cover of my 2nd memoir, Love-Life-&-God: Getting Past the Pain: “now the past is just a story… one I told in this book.”
Whether you decide to share your story with just family or publish on Amazon, print-on-demand technology has made anything possible. Please post a comment below and share your personal experience of how writing has made a difference in your life!
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Santa Claus
(Content from this post was included in my book, Appearances: A Journey of Self-Discovery in Chapter 8: Santa Claus. I modified the chapter for Project 4 Toastmaster Speech.)
I was the 2nd born of 6 children. My grandparents on both sides of the family were Russian, Orthodox Jewish immigrants. My mother’s father was a tailor and made clothes. My father’s father started an advertising specialty business.
While my mother stayed home with us, my father worked for his father’s business which didn’t pay very well so when Chanukah came, we got one big present we all had to share. Fortunately, my mother loved crafts, so each year we learned a new craft and made presents for everyone in our family.
In the meantime, everyone I knew in school celebrated Christmas and talked about what Santa Claus brought them. Well, I thought Chanukah was boring! I wanted Christmas! With LOTS of presents, a beautiful big Christmas tree that smelled like evergreen and was decorated with ornaments and colored lights. I wanted decorations on the front lawn… like our neighbor had.
One December, while I was still a little girl, our neighbor asked my mother to paint the details on some reindeer she got for her yard display. Mom did a beautiful job, but would not accept any money—HOWEVER, that year, Santa Claus came.
Santa brought each of us girls our very own baby doll. I didn’t have to share her with ANYone. I played house and made all kinds of houses and furniture out of boxes, cardboard, and fabric.
We all grew up and got busy with our own lives, careers, and families so there was no longer time to be creative. And none of us dated or married anyone Jewish. In 2 separate relationships, the partners I had were often unemployed and had bad credit. They insisted I spend the holidays with their families and I couldn’t go to mine. They also insisted on buying their family members expensive gifts—with MY credit cards. I can’t believe I let them! In spite of the red flags, I even married the 2nd one.
With my life often in a state of chaos, I wished with all my might that there was a real Santa Claus. One day when I was picking up supplies during the holiday season for the service station I was working for, I saw a beautiful stuffed Santa. Back at work, I described it to my boss with childish excitement. When he went to the store the next day, he bought it for me and said Merry Christmas! I don’t think he realized how precious that gift was to me. Santa Claus became a symbol of hope and I kept him out all year long.
My husband not only insisted we spend the holidays with his family, he insisted we move from California to Austin, TX. Most of our stuff, including Santa, went into a storage space in California before we left. We weren’t able to go back that summer and get the stuff out of storage as planned.
As Christmas was approaching, I got homesick and announced I wanted to take a trip to see my family. My husband said NO and replied that I had to choose between him and my family. I chose. I left him in November 1995 and took my son home via Amtrak to visit my family.
During that trip, I drove to the storage locker to get my son’s body-board, my Santa, and a few other things I really missed only to find out that the lock had been changed. Apparently, my husband was afraid that I’d take something of his while he wasn’t there.
My son and I boarded Amtrak Christmas eve to return to Texas. I cried myself to sleep that night on the train. On Christmas morning, Santa Clause came to me again… in a dream. He handed me a small magic sleigh that transported me to many different rooms in a large house. Each room contained one of the goals I had in my life. He said to look! It is all yours! The last room I was taken to was a room full of toys.
There was a little boy sitting in the middle of the toys crying and a little girl standing with a stubborn expression on her face. The little girl was told that she had everything she wanted and needed to make her happy but the boy had nothing but the toys. Why not let the boy have all the toys? When she agreed, I woke up.
Contrary to the way I felt the night before, I was in a state of total and complete joy. I knew that God used the symbol of Santa Claus to give me hope. I realized the little girl was my inner child and that the little boy was my husband’s inner child. With Santa’s promise that every one of my dreams would be fulfilled, I released the despair of losing all my and my son’s things.
When my son and I got back to Texas, I hired a lawyer and filed for divorce with a loan from a friend and gave the whole situation to God to work out. I found Rudolph at a Thrift store and he kept me company, assuring me that Santa would return. At the end of the school year I made arrangements to stay with my older sister, and moved back to California with my son.
Shortly after we arrived, my niece spotted my Rudolph and showed me her Santa. We shared stories about how we ended up with them. The following day, she brought home a Rudolph that matched her Santa and gave them both to me as a gift. She didn’t see my tears. Santa kept showing up to remind me that everything would be OK.
When I felt hopeless that December, I could only see a small part of a much bigger picture. At the time I did not realize I would be returning to California to continue my life. It turned out that I was fortunate our things were still in storage there, for just like we didn’t have the money to bring them to Texas, I would not have had the money to bring it all back home.
My lawyer sent me a letter stating that my soon to be ex would get what was his out of the storage space the following July and turn the key over to me. Since all the furniture had been bought with my credit cards, I was to have the furniture, too. People told me not to trust my ex—but I trusted God, and I knew Santa would be there to supervise.
My son and I celebrated Christmas that July when we were able to get our things out of the storage locker. To this day, Santa Claus is very special to me.
I was the 2nd born of 6 children. My grandparents on both sides of the family were Russian, Orthodox Jewish immigrants. My mother’s father was a tailor and made clothes. My father’s father started an advertising specialty business.
While my mother stayed home with us, my father worked for his father’s business which didn’t pay very well so when Chanukah came, we got one big present we all had to share. Fortunately, my mother loved crafts, so each year we learned a new craft and made presents for everyone in our family.
In the meantime, everyone I knew in school celebrated Christmas and talked about what Santa Claus brought them. Well, I thought Chanukah was boring! I wanted Christmas! With LOTS of presents, a beautiful big Christmas tree that smelled like evergreen and was decorated with ornaments and colored lights. I wanted decorations on the front lawn… like our neighbor had.
One December, while I was still a little girl, our neighbor asked my mother to paint the details on some reindeer she got for her yard display. Mom did a beautiful job, but would not accept any money—HOWEVER, that year, Santa Claus came.
Santa brought each of us girls our very own baby doll. I didn’t have to share her with ANYone. I played house and made all kinds of houses and furniture out of boxes, cardboard, and fabric.
We all grew up and got busy with our own lives, careers, and families so there was no longer time to be creative. And none of us dated or married anyone Jewish. In 2 separate relationships, the partners I had were often unemployed and had bad credit. They insisted I spend the holidays with their families and I couldn’t go to mine. They also insisted on buying their family members expensive gifts—with MY credit cards. I can’t believe I let them! In spite of the red flags, I even married the 2nd one.
With my life often in a state of chaos, I wished with all my might that there was a real Santa Claus. One day when I was picking up supplies during the holiday season for the service station I was working for, I saw a beautiful stuffed Santa. Back at work, I described it to my boss with childish excitement. When he went to the store the next day, he bought it for me and said Merry Christmas! I don’t think he realized how precious that gift was to me. Santa Claus became a symbol of hope and I kept him out all year long.
My husband not only insisted we spend the holidays with his family, he insisted we move from California to Austin, TX. Most of our stuff, including Santa, went into a storage space in California before we left. We weren’t able to go back that summer and get the stuff out of storage as planned.
As Christmas was approaching, I got homesick and announced I wanted to take a trip to see my family. My husband said NO and replied that I had to choose between him and my family. I chose. I left him in November 1995 and took my son home via Amtrak to visit my family.
During that trip, I drove to the storage locker to get my son’s body-board, my Santa, and a few other things I really missed only to find out that the lock had been changed. Apparently, my husband was afraid that I’d take something of his while he wasn’t there.
My son and I boarded Amtrak Christmas eve to return to Texas. I cried myself to sleep that night on the train. On Christmas morning, Santa Clause came to me again… in a dream. He handed me a small magic sleigh that transported me to many different rooms in a large house. Each room contained one of the goals I had in my life. He said to look! It is all yours! The last room I was taken to was a room full of toys.
There was a little boy sitting in the middle of the toys crying and a little girl standing with a stubborn expression on her face. The little girl was told that she had everything she wanted and needed to make her happy but the boy had nothing but the toys. Why not let the boy have all the toys? When she agreed, I woke up.
Contrary to the way I felt the night before, I was in a state of total and complete joy. I knew that God used the symbol of Santa Claus to give me hope. I realized the little girl was my inner child and that the little boy was my husband’s inner child. With Santa’s promise that every one of my dreams would be fulfilled, I released the despair of losing all my and my son’s things.
When my son and I got back to Texas, I hired a lawyer and filed for divorce with a loan from a friend and gave the whole situation to God to work out. I found Rudolph at a Thrift store and he kept me company, assuring me that Santa would return. At the end of the school year I made arrangements to stay with my older sister, and moved back to California with my son.
Shortly after we arrived, my niece spotted my Rudolph and showed me her Santa. We shared stories about how we ended up with them. The following day, she brought home a Rudolph that matched her Santa and gave them both to me as a gift. She didn’t see my tears. Santa kept showing up to remind me that everything would be OK.
When I felt hopeless that December, I could only see a small part of a much bigger picture. At the time I did not realize I would be returning to California to continue my life. It turned out that I was fortunate our things were still in storage there, for just like we didn’t have the money to bring them to Texas, I would not have had the money to bring it all back home.
My lawyer sent me a letter stating that my soon to be ex would get what was his out of the storage space the following July and turn the key over to me. Since all the furniture had been bought with my credit cards, I was to have the furniture, too. People told me not to trust my ex—but I trusted God, and I knew Santa would be there to supervise.
My son and I celebrated Christmas that July when we were able to get our things out of the storage locker. To this day, Santa Claus is very special to me.
2022 Update.
I had met a woman named Nancy a few years back at an author event. She asked me if I could produce Grandma's Tales for her. After this was complete, she asked me if I knew any bookkeepers as she and her husband had a nonprofit called Reaching Beyond Words. Early in their lives, they had been missionaries in Ethiopia, Uganda, and the Philippines; however, they felt discouraged when they returned. They met with other people and founded the nonprofit to create sustainable programs. Three of the programs included training widows in business and providing seed money so they could support their families; building a school; building an orphanage. They continue to fund these programs. I took on the task of doing their bookkeeping.
Nancy noticed I liked doing jigsaw puzzles and brought me one of a Thomas Kinkade 3-story house. I somehow was able to complete this 1,000-piece challenge and decided to hang it on my wall in a frame... because it reminded me of the house in my Santa Claus dream. With Christmas decorations, I placed my small sleigh on the chest below it, a symbol of the sleigh that transported me to the rooms of that house.
Several months ago, I met a 32-year-old musician and music teacher who inspired me to write songs again and brought hope into my life. I felt a spiritual connection to this old, wise soul who I bonded with via music and conversations. He was playing on Thursday nights at a place called Wool and Vine, so I began to go to listen. After a long period of isolation, it was a good activity for me. The programs I was involved with were online so I was also starving for physical touch, and several of the people there were huggers when we greeted each other.
When someone new comes to visit and asks me about the puzzle art on the wall, I get to retell the above story. Yesterday, December 29, he brought me two more puzzles. In one of many spiritual connection moments, he looked up, saw the painting, and asked if it was a puzzle. Because I just retold the story, I searched my blog for it and decided to update this post.
And I wonder if this new person is one of Santa's elves aka messengers, sent to give me hope again. I know it is his nature to use his past experiences to give hope to others... and he reminds me to do the same.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
In Memory of Jon
Jon is my brother, the 5th child of 6. He had Spina Bifida / Hydrocelphalus at the base of his skull at birth and wasn't expected to live more than 30 days. The bubble on the back of his neck/head was surgically removed along with part of his brain. The doctors told my parents to put him in an institution because he'd be blind and a vegetable due to the extent of the brain damage he had. My parents didn't listen and took him home (at the end of the 30 days hospital stay). They felt Jon following them around in the room at the hospital with his eyes even though the doc said he was blind. He was an absolutely beautiful child--as depicted in the photo. In spite of his condition, he even learned to laugh and often made us all smile. 30 days? He graced us with his presence for 49 years. He wasn't blind, he didn't have any reflexes so couldn't blink. Mom taught him how to blink. He learned many other things as well. As he got older, his poor body became spastic and shriveled, and he eventually went blind. Mom took care of him until he let out his final breath.
Don't let any doctor tell you how long you have to live. Only God knows. And if you believe what your doctor tells you, you will do what the doctor says will happen.
I, too, was born with a neural tube defect... in my lower back... which wasn't diagnosed until I was almost 50. I had extremely tight hamstrings and was often challenged by nerve compression to my legs. I was even wheel chair dependent for a number of years after I fell off a chair. My legs went to sleep and wouldn't wake up. I thought it was permanent, but then somehow, it healed and I have the use of my legs back. It comes and goes just like the seasons.
When Dad passed away in 2008, I had an unusual experience and so did one of my sisters. I felt his presence from 1,500 miles away spiritually hugging me and telling me he loved me. He was never able to do this while he was in his human body so this was an exceptional mystical experience. Around that time, one of my sisters had a dream that both he and our brother, Jon, were in the spiritual world, only Jon had a perfect human body. Dad told her in the dream that they would both wait for Mom. It was only a matter of time to find out whether Mom or Jon would pass on first. It was Jon. They both wait for her just like in the dream. I know this for sure. Yes, I believe that Heaven Is For Real. Dad had his challenges, too--such as severe mood swings and unpredictable outbursts of a bad temper, sometimes outright mean. He was paired in this life with Jon--a child who was incapable of any of this. They are BOTH in "Heaven" side by side.
I believe Heaven is a place where we evolve as souls. A place where we all are one in spirit. My 'proof of Heaven' was the experience I felt when Dad passed away and my sister's dream. In Heaven there are no religions. Religion separates us from each other. When you read the history of religion, there was hate, war, and murder, in the 'name' of each religion's God. There still is. God intended us to be One. We were all created from the same place/source. I just don't understand how people can not see or understand this. I know what the bible says, but I also know what I experienced. And I've known many others with similar experiences. We come to this planet with a set of life experiences that contribute to our evolvement as souls. Our path is to overcome specific challenges to burst out of fear and limitation into pure love and abundance.
Today, in memory of Jon, I send love to every inch of our planet. I pray for world peace. I pray for the transformation from hate, war, and murder to unconditional love. As I eat my Thanksgiving meal, I wish I could share it with all the starving children in our world. Peace.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Life is a school and EVERYONE is a student!
I had the luxury of sleeping in this morning and opened my eyes to these exact words. Yet, there were many times that I believed what I was told by others to be the truth before researching the facts and getting other view points.
If everyone is a student of life, this would mean we all can benefit from learning from each other instead of arguing and fighting over which person is right. If everyone is a student, including our parents, and the entire family was aware of it, I believe there would be more compassion and understanding.
It would also have been nice if we were taught from a very early age how to communicate peacefully. If I found out my parents were students when I was young, I would have strived to ask more questions, especially about their own upbringing and what life was like when they were growing up. I would have found out much sooner, that maturity is a gift that not everyone obtains.
What if we were told we were all students in preschool and kindergarten? Can you imagine what school would have been like if our assignments were to bring in information on something we are interested in and share this with our classmates instead of enduring a strict lesson plan and teachers controlling everything we learn?
I know my son would have loved to do this. When I picked him up after his first day of kindergarten, he told me, “School is dumb! They just try to teach me things I already know!” Then by the third day of kindergarten, he figured out how to read. Instead of reading children’s books, he spent hours browsing through the pages of my sister’s encyclopedias. We thought he was just looking at the pictures, but he began telling us what he had read. I approached his kindergarten teacher about letting students like my son help teach class, but the answer was a defiant NO. My son would not back down, though, and was often sent to the principal’s office.
David Curan, a teacher in Montana, came up with an exercise relating to journalistic writing which was not directly about writing non-fiction but how non-fiction is chosen for the media. He cut out short newspaper clippings that he found interesting and pasted them to 8.5 x 11 sheets which he made copies of and distributed to his students. He divided the class into groups and explained that each group was their own television news station. Then he explained that much of the news comes in over what is called a wire service and that hundreds of articles come in. Their job was pick enough stories to give a three minute presentation that they would give in front of the class. They could pick someone to be the news person or everyone could take a turn presenting, but the group had to present three minutes of news. After the presentation, he asked the students if they thought the news on television gives them all the news. How did they pick what they presented? I think you get the idea here. The newspapers and media have limited space and we are rarely getting the whole story about anything, jumping to conclusions too quickly based on what we read and hear. Many times the information has been verbally passed down and by the time we get it, the original message is lost.
One of the games I remember the strongest when I was a kid is the one in which you whispered something to the person next to you and told them to pass it on. By the time it came back to you, it was completely different. Whenever I hear from someone what they heard from someone else, I am cautious about taking their word for it.
I’ve also learned that we all have different communication styles which can cause confusion on how information we are told gets processed. In my college communications class I learned it was important to give feedback to the person we are listening to and make sure we understood what they were telling us - both in business and in our personal lives. Of course, I forgot about this soon after and often misunderstood what was being told to me, which often resulted in my feelings getting hurt. If it is so easy to misunderstand what we are told, how can you expect to hear the truth after it has funneled down through several people?
Life is a school and EVERYONE is a student. Whether it is politics, medicine, religion, or something else, I plead with you all to read and listen to news with a grain of salt and decide for yourself what you will believe. I also plead with you to acknowledge how easy it is to misunderstand what you hear before you jump to conclusions and make snap judgments about people. Imagine what an epidemic of compassion could bring to our world!
If everyone is a student of life, this would mean we all can benefit from learning from each other instead of arguing and fighting over which person is right. If everyone is a student, including our parents, and the entire family was aware of it, I believe there would be more compassion and understanding.
It would also have been nice if we were taught from a very early age how to communicate peacefully. If I found out my parents were students when I was young, I would have strived to ask more questions, especially about their own upbringing and what life was like when they were growing up. I would have found out much sooner, that maturity is a gift that not everyone obtains.
What if we were told we were all students in preschool and kindergarten? Can you imagine what school would have been like if our assignments were to bring in information on something we are interested in and share this with our classmates instead of enduring a strict lesson plan and teachers controlling everything we learn?
I know my son would have loved to do this. When I picked him up after his first day of kindergarten, he told me, “School is dumb! They just try to teach me things I already know!” Then by the third day of kindergarten, he figured out how to read. Instead of reading children’s books, he spent hours browsing through the pages of my sister’s encyclopedias. We thought he was just looking at the pictures, but he began telling us what he had read. I approached his kindergarten teacher about letting students like my son help teach class, but the answer was a defiant NO. My son would not back down, though, and was often sent to the principal’s office.
David Curan, a teacher in Montana, came up with an exercise relating to journalistic writing which was not directly about writing non-fiction but how non-fiction is chosen for the media. He cut out short newspaper clippings that he found interesting and pasted them to 8.5 x 11 sheets which he made copies of and distributed to his students. He divided the class into groups and explained that each group was their own television news station. Then he explained that much of the news comes in over what is called a wire service and that hundreds of articles come in. Their job was pick enough stories to give a three minute presentation that they would give in front of the class. They could pick someone to be the news person or everyone could take a turn presenting, but the group had to present three minutes of news. After the presentation, he asked the students if they thought the news on television gives them all the news. How did they pick what they presented? I think you get the idea here. The newspapers and media have limited space and we are rarely getting the whole story about anything, jumping to conclusions too quickly based on what we read and hear. Many times the information has been verbally passed down and by the time we get it, the original message is lost.
One of the games I remember the strongest when I was a kid is the one in which you whispered something to the person next to you and told them to pass it on. By the time it came back to you, it was completely different. Whenever I hear from someone what they heard from someone else, I am cautious about taking their word for it.
I’ve also learned that we all have different communication styles which can cause confusion on how information we are told gets processed. In my college communications class I learned it was important to give feedback to the person we are listening to and make sure we understood what they were telling us - both in business and in our personal lives. Of course, I forgot about this soon after and often misunderstood what was being told to me, which often resulted in my feelings getting hurt. If it is so easy to misunderstand what we are told, how can you expect to hear the truth after it has funneled down through several people?
Life is a school and EVERYONE is a student. Whether it is politics, medicine, religion, or something else, I plead with you all to read and listen to news with a grain of salt and decide for yourself what you will believe. I also plead with you to acknowledge how easy it is to misunderstand what you hear before you jump to conclusions and make snap judgments about people. Imagine what an epidemic of compassion could bring to our world!
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Contrast, Triggers, and the Law of Allowing
I subscribe to Christy Whitman's newsletters which include videos. In a recent one about the Law of Allowing, I felt an additional 'ingredient' to recent moments of synchronicity. One of those is the slowly deflating tire on my car. How very 'coincidental'. I'd been losing 'air' in the form of energy because I was letting someone I know suck it out of me. I was feeling 'deflated' by some of the words she had been telling me over the last year, while I replayed them over and over in my mind. Perhaps my tire situation wasn't so coincidental after all!
I also saw the following quote by Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Did I really want to give this person permission to hurt me?
Over the past year, someone I know, who I'm sure had my best interests at heart, was very careless with her words. Each time I was assaulted by something she said, texted, or messaged me, I felt angry. I also asked myself if what she was saying was really true. I was free to accept them or reject them. Just the same, the words were leaving new wounds on top of old ones. The fact that I was dwelling on them confirmed this.
In applying everything I've been learning over the last four years, I kept hearing the voice of my younger sister telling me to silently say, "Thank you for letting me know I still have this issue to heal." My sister had taken Christy Whitman's Life Coach program and was applying the concepts to her own life while passing the wisdom onto me. Indeed, I still had memories and childhood wounds that were affecting me. The only way I would know, is if someone triggers them. I even wrote a song about this... the first two verses go like this:
I love my older sister (five years older). She was like a second mother to me. She was, however, a Leo and a very bossy, controlling one. At some point, I had to grow up and figure out what was right for me as I had always been the docile, accepting one... accepting whatever I was told as the truth.
There are way too many people in this world who believe their 'truth' should be the same truth for everyone else... including in politics and religion.
Here I was, last week, still dwelling on the words spoken to me. Then Friday afternoon, I overheard a woman preach the hell and damnation scenario. If you don't accept Jesus as your savior, you're going to hell! At one time, I had wondered whether this was really true so I embarked on a religious journey of my own, studying all the religions of the world. I concluded that as long as people had a belief in something, that was what mattered. I am just sad for the ones who like I was at one time, buying into their narrow point of view.
Here I was, hearing this speal, when I began to smile inside. The people who had spoken so many hurtful words to me were no different than the religious person who speaks theirs. I didn't have to let it affect me.
What's more, I realized the more I heard the degrading words of my former associate, the more I knew they were not true. She was speaking them from HER perspective. As I digested this, looking down at the bigger picture from my home in the sky (from my post on Skydiving), I thought about everything in life being created for a purpose, including the contrast that the world offers so we can learn about ourselves by both what we want and what we don't want and by what we decide is true for us.
As for synchronicity, a new video landed in my email inbox from Christy on the Law of Allowing. She said when we no longer resist contradictory circumstances that trigger our emotions, look at them as an observer, ask what they are trying to tell us, we can learn from them. As Teal Swan says in her videos, use emotions as your compass and let them flow through you. They don't have to live in your body and drag you down to the bottom of the sea like an anchor.
Where in your life are you begin triggered? Is there someone who spits words that hurt without any regard to your feelings? If you could step back as an observer and look at the bigger picture, can you see lessons you could learn from the experience? Please comment below.
I also saw the following quote by Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Did I really want to give this person permission to hurt me?
Over the past year, someone I know, who I'm sure had my best interests at heart, was very careless with her words. Each time I was assaulted by something she said, texted, or messaged me, I felt angry. I also asked myself if what she was saying was really true. I was free to accept them or reject them. Just the same, the words were leaving new wounds on top of old ones. The fact that I was dwelling on them confirmed this.
In applying everything I've been learning over the last four years, I kept hearing the voice of my younger sister telling me to silently say, "Thank you for letting me know I still have this issue to heal." My sister had taken Christy Whitman's Life Coach program and was applying the concepts to her own life while passing the wisdom onto me. Indeed, I still had memories and childhood wounds that were affecting me. The only way I would know, is if someone triggers them. I even wrote a song about this... the first two verses go like this:
"If someone pulls a trigger,
you may see my cry,
sometimes I know the reason,
sometimes I don't know why.
I've been hit with the meanest words,
that were curt and they were cold,
so be careful what you say,
words can hurt my sensitive soul."
I love my older sister (five years older). She was like a second mother to me. She was, however, a Leo and a very bossy, controlling one. At some point, I had to grow up and figure out what was right for me as I had always been the docile, accepting one... accepting whatever I was told as the truth.
There are way too many people in this world who believe their 'truth' should be the same truth for everyone else... including in politics and religion.
Here I was, last week, still dwelling on the words spoken to me. Then Friday afternoon, I overheard a woman preach the hell and damnation scenario. If you don't accept Jesus as your savior, you're going to hell! At one time, I had wondered whether this was really true so I embarked on a religious journey of my own, studying all the religions of the world. I concluded that as long as people had a belief in something, that was what mattered. I am just sad for the ones who like I was at one time, buying into their narrow point of view.
Here I was, hearing this speal, when I began to smile inside. The people who had spoken so many hurtful words to me were no different than the religious person who speaks theirs. I didn't have to let it affect me.
What's more, I realized the more I heard the degrading words of my former associate, the more I knew they were not true. She was speaking them from HER perspective. As I digested this, looking down at the bigger picture from my home in the sky (from my post on Skydiving), I thought about everything in life being created for a purpose, including the contrast that the world offers so we can learn about ourselves by both what we want and what we don't want and by what we decide is true for us.
As for synchronicity, a new video landed in my email inbox from Christy on the Law of Allowing. She said when we no longer resist contradictory circumstances that trigger our emotions, look at them as an observer, ask what they are trying to tell us, we can learn from them. As Teal Swan says in her videos, use emotions as your compass and let them flow through you. They don't have to live in your body and drag you down to the bottom of the sea like an anchor.
Where in your life are you begin triggered? Is there someone who spits words that hurt without any regard to your feelings? If you could step back as an observer and look at the bigger picture, can you see lessons you could learn from the experience? Please comment below.
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