Manifesting

I was listening to Chris Sullivan (Toby - from "This is Us") speak on his experience with writing Morning Pages, as he went through the 12 week process with the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. His morning pages led him to listening to his inner voice which, a step at a time, led him to "This is Us" and his present day life.

As I struggled through my own Morning Pages this morning, they consisted of little more than to-do-lists and a list of things I wanted to remember. I write lists on the margins of my pages and flip back to those pages to check my progress.

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed with the hopes and dreams I wrote about within those Morning Pages throughout the winter. I wished for little more than a shed, new bedroom/living room windows and a solar powered bird bath.

One by one, my wishes are coming true. Does it count if it is my son who is manifesting these dreams on my behalf? I'm not quite sure...

Here are pictures of yesterday's manifestation process:

Noon

↑ Supper time↓

I don't know whether to thank Julia Cameron and her Morning Pages ritual? Or my son? 

My son gets all the credit for this.

Thank you for manifesting my dreams for me!

Energizing

After waking up to a weariness which made me feel powerless, I have taken steps to empower myself.

#1 - I made a date with myself last night. I bought tickets to a movie I wanted to see before I stepped out the door yesterday morning. Had I not done so, I wouldn't have followed through. I'm so glad I did.

Staying out two hours beyond my normal home time depletes me. Staying out in order to do something that in no way resembled an errand and felt fun and frivolous was a completely different sensation.

I chose the movie, didn't concern myself with anyone else's enjoyment except for my own, I indulged in a snack and I laughed out loud. Sitting in a theatre on my own, I laughed out loud. 

Laughter defines success. My first "Artist's Date" (as per Julia Cameron's suggestion) was a win.

#2 - I wrote my morning pages this morning. It was hard. My coffee was ready and I so dearly wanted to watch for our neighborhood rabbits. But I woke up with words that needed to be silenced. So I grabbed my pen, wrote whatever my heart dictated, tried to imagine what I would wish for should a fairy godmother grant me one wish ... and I didn't know. 

I wrote in and around and through my thoughts. "What do you want? What is the answer?" rolled around and around and around the page. I don't know. But it felt good to purge my thoughts. Putting pen to paper is usually the beginning to finding an answer. I began.

#3 - I colored my hair. Vanity swoops in for the win. My roots were getting to me. Coloring my hair was ONE thing I could control. So I did it. No regrets.

#4 - After I was well on my way to completing all of my hard things this morning, I gazed out the window and spotted two frisky rabbits taking their last run in the safety of the day that was dawning. I believe they were frantically looking for a good hiding spot for the day. These energized rabbits brought joy to the moment and felt like my reward for doing what had to be done.

My weariness is originating from feeling powerless. It felt good to take control of doing what I needed to do to bring myself back up to a place where I have something to offer.

Filling myself up + doing what is within my control + spotting rabbits = a boost of energy to get me through the day. Now the secret is to do this all over again tomorrow.

What fills you up and energizes you? Look for it and it may come ... create your own Field of Dreams.

Weary

There is a weariness I feel that has nothing to do with physical exhaustion. I feel completely and totally spent.

A good night's sleep doesn't cure me. Nor does a regularly scheduled weekend. But thankfully I do get enough of both of these to allow me to keep putting one foot in front of the other and making it to through the days and the weeks.

The antidote to my weariness is finding lightness of heart wherever the opportunity presents itself.

• Spotting a rabbit
• Spending time with family
• Losing myself in a mindless piece of fiction
• Laughter 
• Quiet ... just plain quiet
• Turning off all the connections to the world

I know a good long walk would cure much of what ails me. Walking conditions are not ideal right now but this too shall pass. Spending time appreciating nature and its ever changing landscape feels like oxygen for my soul.

Being outside, even if it is as simple as sitting in my own back yard calms me. Sitting in a sunbeam in the late stages of winter and the early phases of spring is one of my most favorite things.

As I came upon the realization of all that is within my reach but feels so unattainable at times, I couldn't help but think of my days of daycaring. 

• I took my little daycare family outside at every opportunity
• We walked everywhere and played "I Spy" as we made our way through the residential streets
• We discovered an "Enchanted Forest" where the kids could run through the paths and just be kids
• We marveled at the signs of spring, spotting the first robin, watching an industrious ant carry something ten times its weight, collecting lady bugs and setting them free
• Savoring the moments sitting in a sunbeam in the winter and early spring
• We collected rocks, leaves and any mystical treasures we found along the way
• Finding wonder by looking at life through the eyes of a child was one of the best gifts I received throughout my years of caring for children
• Watching over and listening to contented children at play felt quite literally like heaven right here on earth

I was spent at the end of my daycare days but it was a more well rounded kind of exhaustion. The physical output added with a generous dose of outdoors was offset with "quiet time". Despite the chaos at times, there was a sense of balance to those days.

My present day life is far too sedentary. The need to be "on" all day, every day exhausts me. I know I am exactly where I am meant to be right now and life as I know it could change in a heartbeat. But for the first time in a very long time, I feel I may be the one who cracks under the pressure.

Julia Cameron prescribes daily writing to purge one's early morning thoughts + solitary walks + a date with yourself, for yourself. Julia has recommended exactly what I didn't know I needed and I have been resisting her advise. 

Today is the day. I will make an Artist's Date for myself, by myself. I will fill my soul so my soul has more to give to tomorrow.

I will get up tomorrow morning and write three pages of long hand. I will purge any negativity before the day begins and subconsciously come up with an action plan. Walking? I will find a way. I will.

What can you do to initiate a plan to rejuvenate your weary soul? Little things. It is all in the little things. Try to come up with one small sustainable action you can institute into your routine. 

This is easier said than done. I know. Just try ... and if it doesn't happen today, try again another day. Just don't give up.

Synchronicity

I am working my way through "It's Never Too Late to Begin Again" by Julia Cameron. 

Julia instructs her readers to divide their current age by twelve. In my case, since that answer is five, my first assignment is to go back and recall memories, smells, feelings and all I know about my first five years.

Lucky for me, what I lacked in actual memories, I was able to find in pictures.

Mom and me

I love the look on Mom's face in this picture. I am amused by the ashtray and cigarette at her side. This was the norm back then. Nothing unusual there. Except perhaps the fact that Mom is wearing plaid pants with a striped top. Now that one makes me sit and wonder what inspired her choice in attire that day. Maybe that was the norm too?

Dad and me

I'm a little older here. Once again, I love how Dad is looking at me. Obviously I was placed in the crook of his arm for picture taking purposes only (who would read a paper with a baby in their arms?). I find it comforting that Dad is reading a paper here. Dad sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper is how I think of Dad when I think of him relaxing. 

My Sisters and me

I have been told my sisters were pretty excited to have a new baby in the house and I was adored as a child. Mom saved a card of congratulations from my uncle saying "Congratulations to the 2 sisters too - I hear they're pretty happy people." I have few sister-memories from this age and stage of my life but I have a feeling the closeness I feel to them stems from their attachment to me from day one. Apparently plaid and stripes were the norm back then - check our my sister's attire above.

Momma Cat and me

I don't really remember Momma Cat (I think that was her name) but this picture encapsulates the way I still feel when I'm wrapped up in the moment of being a content cat parent. Cats, boxes, cushions and kids. This has been a common theme throughout my life and that of my own children. The expressions on Mom and Dad's faces in the previous photos have been transferred to me - this time I'm the proud "parent".

Sorting through these pictures, putting them in chronological order and scouring the pictures for long forgotten details segued into my first "Artist Date".

I love the way the music of the 1960's makes me feel. In a word? Happy. As far back as my memory goes, there was a record player in our living room. Remnants of my sisters' teen years were the 45 rpm records of the hits from the 1960's remained when I grew into my teens. This music must have been the soundtrack to my youngest years. I remember nothing but the feeling. Happiness.

Yesterday, I played 1960 music in the background while I finally took on the task of sorting through pictures, memorabilia, newspaper clippings, wedding/funeral cards and all that Mom deemed important enough to save. 

I started a photo album of the first five years of my life while music from the '60's played. I let thoughts, feelings, memories and a sense of wonder wash in, around and through me. 

What started out as a quiet little task to assemble memories of "0 to 5 years", became a walk down memory lane.

It is the closest I've felt to Mom in a very long time.

As per usual, the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was open the living room blinds in the hope of spotting a rabbit. I haven't had many rabbit sightings lately but the evidence of their presence is everywhere. Rabbit tracks galore and the need to replenish their food every other day. 

This morning? A rabbit was sitting on the street, facing our window as if it was sitting and waiting for me. I gazed at this lone, still rabbit for a good half hour before something got its attention and it stood on all fours, stretched upwards, looked towards our living room window one last time and hopped down the street. 

Part of this week's assignment was to be mindful of synchronicities as they happen - being at the right place at the right time, thinking of someone and they call and other little ways of calling your attention to the minute details of life and considering how they are connected.

I was looking back on my 2019 calendar and was reminded of a childhood friend I wanted to invite for lunch. I turned the calendar pages a few times and the friend I had just been thinking of called me. We are having lunch together today.

I knew without a doubt I wanted to spend the early morning hours in "Mom's room" yesterday as I planned to concentrate on my "It's Never Too Late..." assignment. The moment I sat still in the room, I was enveloped with a sense of peace and stillness.

Be still and know ...

I sat still with Mom's box of memorabilia, photos and breathed in the day. I spent the day in the room I dubbed "Mom's room" from the very first time she stayed with us. I immersed myself in childhood thoughts, memories, music and felt a warm embrace and the sense of feeling

 "Everything's going to be okay".

Then I woke up to a rabbit gazing towards our living room window this morning. A rabbit who was in no hurry to move on. A rabbit who seemed to be exactly where it was meant to be.

Synchronicity? I like to think so. It feels good ...