Moojinorbit

After various fits, starts, and trap doors on my zigzag walk of faith, I have come to believe that the Universe is indeed a creative force with which we partner, for positive or negative, better or worse. We are, in fact, married to The Force, and if we signal to The Force that we’re undeserving, lacking, victimized, or somehow in need, we will tend to see evidence of exactly those things (those beliefs) show up in our lives. Likewise, when when we come to see, and when we really know, that we are whole, complete, abundantly met, badass, attractive, and all that, The Force will bring it on. We create exactly what we believe. Yeah, it’s the Secret. I’ve also found it to be true.

Of course, there are paradoxes and limits to the philosophy, with which I often grapple (along the lines of, well, all the poor people in the world aren’t poor because they think they should be poor), and that’s fine. Spiritual systems are meant to be wrestled with. But what I know for sure is that in our individual lives, at least, and to a degree in our collective lives, we tend to attract what we put out. When you find the capacity inside you to believe, and know, the good stuff, and decide to live your life in sync with that knowing, stuff starts shifting (not sharting) all over the place. Or at least it has for everyone I know who’s seriously tried it. The trick is that you gotta leave it to the Universe to figure out exactly how it’s going to happen.

Which is why the UPS guy knocked on my front door an hour ago, shocking me out of a nap attempt, and delivered treats to my doorstep out of freaking “nowhere”.

Scotchmallow Eggs, from See’s Candies. My favorite chocolate-marshmallow-caramel treat in the Universe. Sent to me from Jules, my dear friend and former girlfriend. For no good reason except she knows I like them. And because she’s an angel, co-creating with God, hello.

How does she know?
Because last year I told her. I told her, in some casual conversation, I needed some Scotchmallows. (I’d gotten used to acknowledging my desires out loud, rather than stuffing them in dark places.) And a couple weeks later, when I’d forgotten about it, she mailed some to me. In abundance–enough to last many months.

And then she did it again this year. Cuz the Force never said that miracles won’t happen through people you know.

Oh, how I love her. How I love the two and a half years we went through together, and the lessons learned, and the years after that that we worked to stay in touch, to find a friendship, to remain in one another’s lives. She’s marrying her partner Lee in July, in Cape Cod, and we’re going to go! And all is good, and all is love, and there are more than enough Scotchmallows in the world. But we have to remember to ask, and to know the good is coming, out of nowhere, in ways we wouldn’t expect, in abundance.

And this is how I know I’m going to manifest solar panels for my house somehow. I’ve started putting it out there, like I did with my house, and my job, and my partner, and the Atlantis cruises, and both my cats, and all the incredible blessings the Force has let me co-manifest. And it’ll happen in some amazing way, laced with mystery and grace, like all of it.

10 minute freewrite on the blog, before my 40 minute freewrite on the book:

Dancing.
I’d forgotten about dancing in the middle of my slow-motion midlife crisis.
Hadn’t danced for too long; that was the problem. Harmful, unhealthy disconnection from the dance floor.

But yesterday I found my way back–even if the dance floor happened to be the hardwoods in my home, and there were no disco balls (though the light did look a little odd with the sleet coming down at about 4:30), and I was the only person at the dance party.

Yeah, pretty much: Solo 1-hour Dance Party at Home!
The cats were not amused, but I was.

I needed exercise, and it was after my allotted gym hours (I pay a reduced rate at school in exchange for reduced gym hours), and it was starting to sleet/snow so I wasn’t going outside. So first I turned on Channel 222, FitTV, and did some calisthenics with some guy named Gilaud and his pretty entourage on some fake lawn in Hawaii. But I did it with the TV sound muted and my own music blasting from the stereo. Did a bunch of squats and ab work and whatnot for a half-hour, and when that was over just started bouncing my ass all over the house. Total ridiculousness. I tried all kinds of moves and hip hop footwork to keep my heart rate up, and then worked out a super-slowmo number to “Shake Yer Tailfeather”. Caught a couple glimpses of myself in the mirror and saw a sweaty 41 year-old with silver hair and laughed. Stopped taking myself so seriously and just danced.

It made me remember where my joy was, and my heart, and my giggles. I remembered that my hips have some good moves and that it feels great just moving the air around with your arms.

Highly recommended. I think I want to take a Burlesque class.