Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Free delivery. And pick-up of the old stuff. It's raining cats and dogs and all manner of invertebrates out there at the moment. A particularly splendid ambiance from which to post here, seeing as it's been awhile. I've been sorta busy. I moved. Across several states. To be with the love of my life. The third time around. We affectionately call it 3.x. It's only been a few weeks, and it feels like we've been doing this forever. In a good way. So there is hope for everyone out there who believes that love has passed them by. I am discovering it at age 50, and it rocks. Prime ingredient for it to show up: being cool with it not showing up. Loving your life the way it is. Enjoying your friends and how you orchestrate your free time, if not your waking hours in general. Genuinely appreciating the heck out of as much as possible. And not focusing on the topic whatsoever. When They say it will show up when you're not looking, They know what They are talking about. Of course, this advice applies in most areas of desired change in one's life. Get busy being a happy person, and the waves of vibes around you will amass in the upper registers of the emotional scale to such proportions that the universe can't help but start drop-shipping the good stuff to you. Because you let it in. It's been hanging out, waiting for the crucial tipping point to be reached. And viola! Free delivery. And pick-up of the old stuff. It gets carted away, never to be pondered again. Well, there might be a few rogue musings bandied about, but once you get a handle on this process, you won't worry about it any more. And wouldn't that be just about the most amazing thing you...
The chocolate caper A few nights ago, I completely forgot about what happens when I ingest some of my favorite Trader Joe's dark chocolate after, say, 3:00 PM. Without a shred of misgiving, I put those two squares of heaven in my mouth and enjoyed the heck out of them--at 9:00 PM. And seven hours later, I was still awake. A simple case of cause and effect, one that I've proven to myself enough times to know that it just isn't worth the pleasure to endure the accompanying pain and thus established the accompanying guideline. Granted, the following 18 hours or so weren't the greatest I've ever experienced, but they weren't the worst, either. That, and my total lack of recall on this particular subject, are what's fascinating to me. I didn't thrash and bemoan my situation, once I realized what had happened--I just rested in my bed, and thought of a few things that were interesting enough to occupy my brain but not enough to trigger an obsession that made me more alert. I didn't attempt to do anything other than what was required of me the next day. I have recently begun a new set of living arrangements under which the guideline had not been previously applied, so perhaps that might explain my temporary memory lapse. Being human is probably the ultimate culprit. Apparently, in comparison to all the other endless minutae rolling around in my brain lately, it wasn't as important, and I just forgot. And now I have yet another experience on which to scaffold a remembering. No beating myself up for a minor transgression into stupidland. It simply was, I surrendered as much as I could in the situation, which, now that I'm thinking about it, was remarkable and perhaps the reason behind all of this happening the...

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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