A Conscious Reality

May 23, 2007

A few days left till the big day- the wedding; my guests are sleeping on an inflatable mattress in the living room, while I sit and type on my freshly made bed, a habit I have recently been committed too.  It might sound silly or trite, but until the recent past, my theory about making beds was “why bother?”  it only gets messed up anyways; but now, it seems to me that making the bed is about starting anew, to make that which is old, new- fresh, refreshing.  Of course it is aesthetically pleasing too, but that now is just a reminder of making things new. 

I checked my last entry to see how long it’s been since I’ve written and realize that it’s not necessary, what’s important is that I am  here now.  And then of course the next obstacle is since I’m here what is it that I’m doing here?  What to write? What to say?  It always amazes me that as soon as the question is asked the answer appears- usually simultaneously, but sometimes with a pause.  I’m here to continue staying on the path; to keep the dedication and devotion, and gratitude for having the privilege of being here.  I’m reminded of all the places I’ve been spiritually, physically, mentally, emotionally, and all else; all the places that have contributed to me being right here; all the places that are in my “past” yet become re-invented in my present- those things that remind me that the road is long and hard and I must keep going.  Today, when I hear this message, I am not tired or upset or annoyed, but happy and relieved, that there is a path and that it is my honor to choose to stay on it:)

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May 15, 2007

I sit here, on my couch with a tornado of sorts around me; the box of response cards to my right, the kitchen counter that is attached by an opening to the living room is full of lists of things to be taken care of, the glass coffee table with vacation books-tropical locations for potential honeymoons, just ahead of me, past the book shelf are the toiletry items I purchased that will go into the bathrooms at the wedding- and that’s just what is within my view.  Beyond the living room area, boxes of unopened gifts from the bridal shower, then winter clothes that need to be put away from my cleaning rampage the other day- I can continue, but that would only continue to stress me out.  All these things laying here around me, I see them when I walk by- and then those other thank you cards to write and send out- and what about inviting so and so? 13 days away and I am being put to the test once again.

Other things to do still linger in my mind- like what actually-physically needs to be done today; outside of the house- but there is so much to do here.  And while this is all going on swirling around me and through me, I decide to plunker down and write- Does any of this make sense???

What triggered the writing was actually going to visit a friend’s blog about her ashram years- about ten of them.  She’s posting the book online,one chapter per week.  Today was installment 6,  I’ve read all the previous, but this feeling started creeping in as I read the last few weeks, this feeling of not me reading about her at the ashram and coping with her feelings, what brought her there- her personal & family relationships, etc.  this was me watching the movie that I participated in at the Kabbalah Centre.  I didn’t volunteer 10 years of my life, it was only three- but what occurred in those three years changed me forever.

Watching Marta’s life unravel there in the ashram reminded me so much, painfully and sadly of the time I gave over to the place I call a cult now.  It was sad for me to remember the times I believed so little in myself that I gave over all my power to their rituals and beliefs I said were mine.  Not only did I say they were mine, I behaved accordingly,- I, started acting, thinking, and believing like them.  I was sure I was doing the absolute right thing, sure that this was the way- Would all those people there egg me on if I was on the wrong path, for me?  Not there- they egged me on to continue to be like them (so that their reality wouldn’t shatter.)

A part of me is ashamed; that I gave myself over to them, dismissed my friends and family as unaware people that didn’t know what life was all about, I dismissed the one love I had that was a living-breathing true life example of God and unconditional love-  The one man that understood me when I didn’t understand myself, the one that waited for me while I explored what I thought was right- while discarding him- He didn’t hold this against me, he only prayed that we would meet again.  And we did- and what we shared changed both of our lives in a most profound way- in a way that motivates me daily to live a conscious life, to say thanks for what we had- to say thanks for the continued presence in my life that is devoted to me succeeding on this path- This writing was given birth to from the transformation of my self that has been gifted to me through the trials and tribulations of love & loss. 

 It is my honor & pleasure (two of PJ’s favorite words) to be a part of this master plan.

In loving memory of PJ Bradley February 7, 1961-September 18, 2003.

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May 11, 2007

My day began earlier than usual when I squinted to see that in fact, it was morning and Bryan was getting ready for work.  I yanked myself out of bed realizing that we planned that we would drop off the dry cleaning first and then I would drop Bryan off at the train.  I really didn’t want to do any of it.  I’ve allowed myself the luxurious yet destructive tendency of procrastinating- but not today; there where piles of Bryan’s work clothes to go out, another pile of linens that didn’t fit in this washing machine, and other piles from my insane operation  to rid our apartment of unwanted clothing or to box up the winter goods.  This had to be done; now!  It’s this thing ingrained in me to stress out when the house is a mess; so the only way to prevent it, is to keep it clean.

We dropped all of it off and then Bryan was off to work.  Before leaving the house I figured I could trick myself into working out, by wearing my exercise clothes out and then exercising right after the errands before I could come home and - you guessed it; talk myself out of it.  While waiting at a light on the way back, I saw a woman crossing the street; she looked nice and well put together; elegant and casual at the same time; the type of portrait I like to paint of myself for others.  Everything about her was neat- her black pants, zip up sweat shirt, and baseball cap.  Now this, was determination, I thought.  I created a story about who she was; she looked about 10+ years older than I, but a well maintained 40, not a ragged one; she probably had kids that she just dropped off at school, and now was her time.

The light changed and I made the left hand turn to park my car in front of our building.  The fog and humidity still sitting low in the sky- it’s been that way for 3 days now, but I didn’t mind it today for some reason; there was something I enjoyed in the air.  The ocean was giving off that intoxicatingly-heavenly  ocean smell; it’s not smell-able everyday, only when certain conditions I’ve yet to pinpoint exist.  I’ve heard that it’s the sulfur in the ocean or the iodine that gives of that scent.  It was strong but gentle today- not like that smell that makes you wonder if all the fish in the sea are sick.  I wondered if my vision of this determined woman along with the ocean scent could give me the strength to run back upstairs, grab a sweatshirt and come back down to walk along the boardwalk.  I had planned on working out at the gym, but there was just something pulling me to be outside.  I’ve often wished I could be one of those people that could take advantage of the 2.2 mile long boardwalk- bike ride or walk or run, just to be outside; but I’ve often found myself being the person looking at those on the boardwalk being annoyed at myself for not doing it, or just watching them and not even really caring that I’m not doing it.  Today, I would at least attempt to make my wish a reality.

I came upstairs got my sweatshirt and without too much resistance went back out.  I thought about putting on a baseball cap, like that woman, but decide against it.  As I left my apartment I saw one of our maintenance guys going towards the elevator, I hoped he would hold it for me, and he did.  We exchanged greetings and then he said, “Goin’ out for an early morning  workout?” 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” I said grinning and rolling my eyes.  As he began to reply I realized, “You should be stoked, ” he said, “You’re staying in shape.”

“You’re right,” I agreed,  “I am fortunate.”

Looking back now I can count the blessings I couldn’t see in that elevator: fortunate that I woke up, fortunate that I can walk and talk, fortunate that Bryan woke up and can walk and talk, fortunate that we have a car to take us places, fortunate, fortunate, fortunate; I can continue- but I think you get the point.

I begin walking and listening to my nano-ipod; I thought perhaps I could say some prayers while walking and then convinced myself that I could listen to music and pray at the same time.  That wasn’t really happening but I did enjoy my environment; the wet boards that make up the boardwalk, (most of which need replacing), somehow I appreciated the boards and the water separately, the ocean mist, the very low fog, the almost rain, the very few people on the boardwalk now- all of it.  I walked briskly for a few blocks thinking that maybe I could run a bit as I saw a woman wearing scrubs walking and running; it looked like she was on break from work, if she could do it- well why not me?  That didn’t push me too much though, I continued to walk and that’s when the light bulb went on!  I had started a health regimen that included vitamins and then slowly exercise; now with the exercise (and really life) my underlying motto has been, “what can I get away with?”  What’s the smallest amount of effort I can exert to get results?  I’ve probably convinced myself that it’s being efficient- but being real with myself it’s downright lazy!  I realized that if I say to the universe, “Hey- all I want to be capable of doing is this tiny minimal amount-that’s it,”  Instead of saying, “WOW thanks I have legs with muscles and lungs to breathe and blood to circulated the oxygen- WOW- let me say thanks by using it!”

I started saying thanks with each stride I took.  For once, I wasn’t running because I was afraid of not fitting into my pants, or because I wouldn’t be as beautiful if I didn’t, or because I saw some cellulite I didn’t like- I ran because I could; just walking felt like I was settling for something less and for right now at least, I didn’t want less.

I got to the end of the boardwalk, touched the railing at the edge and turned back around and continued running, I didn’t really care to stop and walk like I usually end up convincing myself that I should walk a bit then start running again.  I ran and ran never looking more than a few feet ahead of me.  That’s when I realized something else that was happening.  For once, I wasn’t counting the blocks ahead of me, which I learned the names of all fourteen by heart when I was 16, or looking at the watch to see how fast I was or wasn’t going, I was right where I needed to be- right here.  The physical experience of running has always been hard for me because I was never in my own footsteps, instead I looked at where I should be or where I will be in 20 minutes.  I was glad that I was where I was and then I was glad that that woman was where she was, so that I could see her and get inspired and be here.  I hadn’t seen her on the boardwalk yet, maybe she was finished already.  As soon as that thought finished and I looked up, I saw her with her friend. I continued to fantasize that she was this super-woman and now she was having this spiritual conversation with her friend and that she’s just so happy and excited about life; I expected that peaceful look on her face with a smile perhaps; and as we neared I saw her give me the up and down once over that only women do, the one that says, “who does she think she is?”  Her face was not as soft and pleasant, she might’ve even been complaining.  At the moment, I discarded the illusion of who I thought she was, and began to get that, “I’m better than her after all,” feeling (how spiritual is that?).

And now, sitting here, writing about it all, I realize that no matter what illusions I created- from who I thought she was to who I thought I was or am or whatever- all of this created a most beautiful opening for me to go and experience the boardwalk that I often look at from my balcony and that is only physically an arms length away, but in my mind is usually thousands of miles away.

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May 10, 2007

“A true friend is someone who knows you’re a good egg, even if you’re a little cracked.”

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