Has the Election Galvanized the Good? Plus Holiday Watercolor Cards :)

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Warm Holiday Greetings!

xmas16-birch

My new blog post, Has the Election Galvanized the Good? is below.  Also, my one-of-a-kind watercolor holiday cards are for sale over here! To see my 3 new bookmarks – scroll to the bottom :)

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xmas14-miracle

“Heaven and Nature sing” holiday bookmark :)

Has the Election Galvanized the Good? 

%22i-have-come-into-this-world-to-see-this-there-is-just-one-flesh-we-can-wound

After the shock and bewilderment of the political circus, my fears and flaws (which prefer to disguise themselves as ‘righteous’ anger) quickly convinced me that the menace was now truly OUT THERE. It’s an age old coping mechanism – the need to blame an enemy when life seems out-of-my-control. Unfortunately, this habit ignores the inner lions, tigers and elephants that need to be tamed, before the outer work can get done.

Wikipedia: Psychological projection is a theory in psychology in which humans defend themselves against their own unconscious impulses or qualities by denying their existence in themselves while attributing them to others.”

Like blaming the boss. The corporations. The media. The government. The man.

At first, I was finger pointing and condemning Trump, just like he was doing to others. Judging, defiling and making him wrongity-wrong, just like he was. Hmmmm. Two wrongs still won’t make the world right. Or me.

for-no-one-walks-the-world-in-armature-but-must-have-terror-striking-at-his-heart“For no one walks the world in armature but must have terror striking at his heart.” A Course in Miracles

My fear had suddenly grabbed the wheel and peeled out, while madly chanting, if I let down my guard, anger and indignation, I’ll be lulled into complacency, powerlessness, blind to injustice, and “they” will walk-all-over-me-and-you. Then we are TOAST.

We lose. The haters win.

The old “Us against Them” belief quickly enlists the most reckless driver of all – Anger (with defense riding shotgun.) Battles ensue. Guilt, Shame, Regret and Separation all pile into the scary clown car.

Outrage feels like a well-defended tank. A safe place to hide my vulnerability. My victimhood. Powerlessness. A place where my heart is closed. Where nothing upsetting can touch me. If I’m busy hating them it will numb my own hurt and sadness.

as-i-walked-out-the-door-to-the-gate-that-would-lead-to-my-freedom-i-knew-if-i-didnt-leave-my-bitterness-and-hatred-behind-id-still-be-in-prisonBeing walled off, though, means I’m separated from the empowering feelings, too. From hope. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Tolerance. Love. My past reaction to injustice was to shut down and fight, which just furthered the divide, mistrust, and isolation. The banishment became self inflicted.

If I thrash and spit at them, I’m disowning my own sovereignty, inner peace and freedom. If I blame the bully, for the unhealed wounds inside me, then I’m believing that the power is in their hands. I’m leaking my divinity by believing the BS. 

If I refuse to bear witness to the war within me, I can’t stop the outer struggle either. If I’m unloving toward myself, it’s difficult to feel love outside myself. I’m stuck on a crazy carousel.

So I have to pause. Breathe. Write (this post has already had three discouraging and discarded incarnations.) Meditate. Talk. Befriend the fears. Walk. Sob. Share. Chill.

When old fearful beliefs, lurking inside me, are sparked by a loud carnival OUTSIDE me, the circumstances don’t cause my fear, they reveal it. Oh it’s so embarrassing. I’ll still try to insist – it’s really THEM this time, THEIR monkeys! This can’t be me? Again? Why should I change? THEY need to change!

Step away from the scary clown car.

If I deny the fear, it just gets projected outside myself where I’ll see it high-flying all over everyone else! A clever universal mirror of The Greatest Show on Earth. We just can’t get away from our own acrobatic reflection. 

Resistance is futile.

Our feelings, like rejected kids who ran away to the circus, just want to be welcomed back home. They’re ashamed. Vulnerable. Oppressed. Exiled. Invite them in. Share a bowl of buttery popcorn. Turn off the circus music. Let them speak of their terror. Despair. Armageddon. It’s a shock to recognize our abandoned selves. We’ve been protesting our own humanness. Marching against our inner madness.

{{{{{{ Breathe. }}}}}}

As we tame the lions inside ourselves, we won’t need to shame the beasts on the outside. In fact, we might discover it’s our own gnashing teeth. It’s our own fearful ring master. If we focus, instead, on creating an inner playground, then we can stop feeding the fears. Eventually, the outer war will have no battlefield.

I keep working at (and this part is hardest for the ego) sincerely appreciating the traveling scoundrels and situations that have triggered my vulnerability. They’re the shocking (and fabulously under appreciated) answer to years of hopes and prayers. I’ve been asking for joy, equality, abundance, love, safety, healing, growth, contribution, unity, world peace. Only to find, via said scoundrels, that I’m standing in my own way by rejecting the alarming wake-up calls.

 I’ve forgotten that this earthly extravaganza is the healing path – the power of seeing myself in you and coming together to recognize our Oneness. “There is just one flesh we can wound.”

Yeah, somedays, I SO want someone else to fix it, do the right things, use their magic wand and make life grand. For us all.

But if it were all up to someone OUT THERE, how would I discover my own power, passion and purpose? How would I celebrate this life I’ve been given, if someone else held the keys to my daily Queendom? 

There is no external jailor for our inner joie de vivre.

And then Trump speaks… And I’m back to square one. I’m a work in progress with this whole Love thy enemy thing.

The vulnerability, hiding under the venom, is a pathway to our shared humanness.

the-holiest-spot-on-earth-is-where-an-ancient-hatred-has-become-a-present-love“The holiest spot on earth is where an ancient hatred has become a present love.” ~A Course in Miracles

So how do I stay mindful, powerful and take inspired action? Blissipline… A daily practice (lifelong practice…) of inner calm. Of learning to love the unlovable, in me. Then you. Patience with the impatient. In me. Then you. Tolerance for the intolerant. Me. You. Compassion. Courage. Creativity. Kindness. Especially for the toughest circus – ‘they’ show us our own underbelly. 

%22never-doubt-that-a-small-group-of-thoughtful-committed-citizens-margaret-meadeGood-will is a powerful picket line against reactivity, blame and any walls we’ve built within ourselves and against each other. The dark side is illuminating all the crud that’s blocking Love’s way into our hearts and out into our lives. As we heal our personal issues, we help heal the global ones.

Everywhere, there are awesome people doing awesome things. Let’s keep the spotlight turned on that goodness. With our conscious intent and focus, we embolden that universal light. Send love-bombs to the political arena, but don’t buy a ticket and park there. 

Let the chaos move us into a bigger heart space, transforming fear, growing our courage, calling forth our decency, evolving our sustainable spirit and creating a more humane world. Inside and out. 

The election was a zoo. But it has galvanized the good.

As peace deepens it’s roots within us, waves of love and cooperation move out into the world. We’re gathering momentum as we work, transform and play under our beautiful blue big-top.

See it.%22i-honor-your-gods-i-drink-at-your-well-ralph-blum

Believe it.

Make it so!

I love you. Thank you. 

Julie

p.s. For a powerful exercise to recognize and heal our projection, check out Byron Katie’s “Judge Your Neighbor Worksheet.” 

These new bookmarks below, are now available (1 1/2″ x 8 1/4″ laminated)

“Taking a step backward after taking a step forward isn’t a disaster it’s a cha-cha.” 

b-taking-a-step-backward-after-taing-a-step-forward-isnt-a-disaster-its-a-cha-cha

“They tried to bury us but they didn’t know that we were seeds.”

b-they-tried-to-bury-us-but-they-didnt-know-that-we-were-seeds

“Heaven and Nature sing”

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What Incarnation Were We Thinking? Remembering What We Were Born to Forget

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there-is-really-no-way-to-say-no-to-the-morning-dan-foglebergI recently shared my story about the Spirit Pub at the epic Life Without Instructions conference, an amazing community of free-thinking, unschooling, family-loving, nature-hugging, soul-seeking friends. A few folks asked if I’d written the story down ~ so here it is :)

Long ago, I stumbled across the idea that perhaps our soul, before birth, gets to choose it’s greatest challenges in it’s lifetime. Given my dwarfism and it’s accompanying complications, you’d have thought my reaction would’ve been something like…

HA! What insane #@!% HOGWASH!

Instead, I was intrigued.

A friend and I decided that we’d name this pre-birthday place, the Spirit Pub. If we had chosen our current life-on-the-rocks, we clearly had had one too many.

Or maybe, when we were made of pure star-dust and all blissed-out, the wild Earth roller coaster looked so dang appealing! Birth, puberty, love, marriage, divorce, forgiveness, compassion, plot-twists, faith, disease, drama, darkness. What a thrill! A reality show to top all reality shows!

%22remember-who-you-think-you-are-now-is-only-one-moment-one-grain-of-sand-in-the-vastness-of-your-spirit

So by the time I bellied up to the Spirit Pub bar, I was ready to take on the cosmos. One glance at the ginormous menu, and I knew. The special of the day stood out in lights: “spondyloepiphyseal dysplasia congenita, dwarfism, with a heaping side order of degenerative arthritis.”

The tougher the troubles, the greater the glory.

I turned to my guardian angel, already by my side, and said, “I could really sink my teeth into that one.”

Excellent choice,” she said, sounding a bit like Glinda the good witch. “Let me give you some details: at your birth, the gods of medicine will automatically label your creative earth costume as defective, deformed, disadvantaged and disabled. You will believe and live their truth for years. There will also be many operations, including two brain surgeries.”

I quickly asked to recheck the menu.

But my angel continued on with strangely contagious enthusiasm. “This profound human pain . . . will ignite in you such a deep hunger to heal yourself. The darkness will serve as a spiritual springboard to the light. It will catapult you into alternative medicine, nutrition and empowering ways to care for your costume. These remedies will be a bridge back to your remembrance that healing comes from within. Inside you will be the best medicine of all – the choice of where to put your focus, on fear or faith.”

%22you-are-encoded-with-a-magic-filled-with-a-potential-jennifer-mclean“Furthermore,” she said, almost giggling, “The doctors won’t be the only ones who will take issue with your nonconformities; you will also be a billboard for bullies, strangers, children & adults who will stare, taunt and mock you. You’ll be a trigger for their own deep fears of separation and rejection.”

Before I could interject that I might be biting off more than I could chew, she was way ahead of me.

“My dear, your belief that you are isolated from the world will stir in you such a longing for love & connection. And because you will not be able draw that acceptance from the outside, you will at last turn your focus inside. That is where the memory will dawn – darkness is not a punishment or an accident. It is your soul’s creative catapult back into Oneness, the place inside of you where you can, and you will, remember that you are Light. And so is everyone else.”

“So you’re telling me,” I asked, “that I can’t lose in the end?”

“What the human believes is a loss, the soul experiences as a gain. Your family,” she continued, a mesmerizing pink glow around her, “will be the loving bedrock of your identity. They will not be distracted by your differences and will see and love you for who you really are.”

%22you-are-a-part-of-everythingYay! Good news!

“Out of respect and love for you, however, they will err on the side of silence about your dwarfism and it’s challenges. You will misinterpret that silence as shame.”

Hmmm. A strange pattern seemed to be emerging…

“Your heartbreak, however, will awaken in you such a desire to express yourself. When you turn your focus toward that, it will launch you into true heart to heart communication, through art, writing, speaking and being.”

“Isn’t it ideal?” she twinkled. “Silence leads to communication. Isolation leads to reunion. Physical pain leads to spiritual healing. Are you beginning to see the sacred love story of opposites?

I was. From a distance, it did seem rather remarkable.

“There is one last thing, my dear,” my golden Glinda added, “and it is very important. You know everything we’ve been discussing? . . . You are going to forget all of it.”

I sighed. “That part, I kinda know. Because if I remembered that I was eternal love, that no harm could ever come to my soul, then the earth journey would be like ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’ without the blindfold, or ‘Hide and Seek’ without a place to hide. We choose the body-blindfold to make it a really gutsy game. It’s a global treasure hunt where the gems are hidden within.”

My angel shimmered. “The wounds of your forgetting will be temporary, but the joy and wisdom will be yours forever. And remember, my dear, I will be with you at the doorway of birth, I will stay by your side every step of the way, and I will be there when you are ready to lay your body down and come Home. I will never leave you until you have fulfilled your reasons for being.”

I nodded to my fearless angel and I said, “Bring it on.”

%22a-mind-that-is-stretched-by-new-experience-can-never-go-back-to-its-old-dimensions-oliver-wendell-holmesMaybe we all agreed to the crazy ride.

But whether or not our soul chooses our circumstances, the belief that our challenges are for us, not against us, is hugely empowering. It’s not to blame ourselves, or others, ever. It’s the opportunity to take any ugliness and transform it into something beautiful and meaningful. To find out what’s right with what might feel all wrong. A nightmare is not the final verdict; it may end up being the vehicle to our soul’s desire.

There’s divinity in the darkness – let it inspire our brightest light.

~~~~~~~~~

Before you go~

MORE FR*EE STUFF!

Rev. Anne Presuel & Sherry Bowers have invited 100’s of spiritual entrepreneurs to participate in their annual

Your Divine Biz Gifts

 to give you a whole BUNCH of fr*ee products and services.

Things like:

  -ebooks
-scripts
  -audio trainings
  -audio meditations
  -video trainings
-checklists
-assessments
-programs
-free memberships
  -and much more

Register here and then go pick out what you like,

leave the rest behind :)

Wishing you an open mind, gentle heart, courageous soul, 

And lotsa love, always,

Julie

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%22self-love-is-not-selfish-you-cannot-serve-from-an-empty-vesselHiya Pacha-Mamas,
…❤❤❤…

Like receiving freebies? Me, too. My friend & colleague, Catherine Franchetti, has hand picked 10 downloadable gifts, just for moms at: www.JoyfulMomsEvent.com
I’m participating along with an inspiring group of women who want to support other moms with their gifts. I’m giving away my ebook (which hopefully you’ve already downloaded) plus you’ll find 9 other different goodies, such as how to ~

Transform your home
Gain more energy
Develop or expand your yoga practice
Prepare for that next job search
Find Your personal style
…and more ❤

Go enjoy something just for you – and be sure to go get them today – they’re only available for a limited time at ~ www.JoyfulMomsEvent.com
P.S. Please feel free to share the link with any moms you know, & sign up yourself :)

Wishing you… peaceful days,
the-rising-of-the-women-means-the-rising-of-the-race-james-oppenheimdreamy nights,
& hope rising within,
as we fall into autumn
~~~❤~~~
xoxo Julie

 

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There was an Angel Dancing at the Park

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%22Angels believe in you. Jan Phillips - angelcloud

Last Saturday, I was sitting at Heaven Park (my favorite pond where my heron friends feed,) feeling kinda angry and sorry-for-myself after an argument with my hubby. Sigh. I asked my divine dad & my angels to help me return to peace and stop blaming anything or anyone else for my unrest. And then I went on with my day – writing, reading, gazing, watching the gold finch, and snacking.

 A few hours later, as I’m getting ready to leave, (feeling much more aligned after my time-out in Mother Nature’s nursery,) I look up and there’s this triumphant Angel, tiara and all, cheering me on from above. I laughed out loud! Or perhaps she’s toasting the world while dancing a cheeky cha-cha. Whatever she was doing in the clouds, it was the perfect tonic for old sour feelings.
cloud angel As I took a slew of pictures, another angel image, with what looked like big open arms, came up underneath the first brassy gal… see him? Well, what matters most (for me) is my own looking glass. What matters most for you, is your personal spectacles – that’s what will seize the day and make it troubled or triumphant. We always have that choice.
What uplifting lens will we choose to look through today…?
How do YOU shift a crummy mood? Take a walk? Write? Read? A snooze? Yoga? Music? Art? Facebook? A cruise? :) 
Let me know in the comments… 
%22You will never influence the world by trying to be like it. Sean McCabe I was recently interviewed, along with 30 others, for an inspiring online video interview series called,
This series is to help folks stop feeling frustrated, get clear about what’s right for them & take inspired action to create a life that lights ’em up.
We are meant for more than an everyday routine don’t you think? Our dreams are not going to materialize by fitting ourselves into a pre-designed package that society expects.
Imagine being able to:
Deeply access our powerful intuitive guidance.
Achieve our goals with confidence.
Live a life of deep meaning & profound joy. Yay.
Discover practical tips and tricks, new ways of thinking, simple practices, and powerfully inspiring stories to jumpstart the journey to becoming all we’re meant to be.
Wishing you…
a new creative lens, and the 
the willingness to keep looking up, 
the courage to keep looking within,
the inspiration to keep looking forward
& heavenly angels to dance you toward your dreams…
~~~~~~
xoxo Julie 

My Watercolor Cards

Holiday Watercolors

Inspirational Magnets & Bookmarks

YouTube 

My Huffington Post Blog

My art at RedBubble 

www.nothingshortofjoy.com

%22You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved

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Weeping Trees: The Healing Power of Nature

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The amazing Green Diva Meg at GreenDivas.com, has created a quick sketch video (one minute!) of me making one of my watercolor/calligraphy cards, so exciting for me! It gave me a whole new and fun perspective on my work :) I hope you’ll watch it!

Also check out a be-you-tiful online course for Mothers and Daughters at the bottom of this post. There’s a generous discount code for all Nothing Short of Joy subscribers :)

Now for our regularly scheduled program… ;) my blog post: 

%22The Tree Couple.%22One of our trees, a Weeping Grandma Cherry, is losing limbs, losing life. I’m embarrassed by the flood of emotion… and I find myself hiding the tears. As I catch my breath, though, there is so much more to the story. There always is.

My hubby, Bill, has been warning me about her demise for years now, but I refused to believe him. He’d first declared it without much compassion, as if her death was a bother. It would cost money. It might fall on the garage. It might hit one of the kids.

Grandma Cherry Tree

See her sweet face?

Year after year, I’ve sat and recharged in her quiet shade, gathering my heart, breathing out the overwhelm, breathing in the peace. I’ve smiled into her gnarly face wondering how to practice her stillness. Under her calming pink parasol, I’ve written out my hopes and dreams. I’ve wept out my fears, anger, and despair.

Today, I wept for her. For the mysteries. For the violence. For the journey. For my Dad.

So many sad goodbyes in life – to those who move where I cannot go. These deep rules of heaven and earth, hidden in the rough bark of life. They leave their love, clues, and gifts in our own backyard.

“Everything I let go of has claw marks on it.Anne Lamott

One morning last year, as I was letting our dog, Merlin, outside, I was crushed by the sight – our restless neighbor had chopped down the colossal lilac between our yards. I reeled back in disbelief. In sobs. Every spring I’d reveled in this lilac’s scented curls. I’d gleefully waited like a kid, for her bountiful blossoms. I’d placed gushing vases in the kitchen and the bedroom just so I could bury my grin into her glorious purple perfume. The blissful smell of God-ness.

I couldn’t look at my neighbor for days.

amber sapAnd now our treasured Cherry is getting ready to fly away. Poison Ivy is creeping up her trunk, as if she has already been reclaimed by a greater night. Her amber blood oozes out from craggily warrior skin. As I run my hand across her Braille bark, some part of my soul understands the big Book of hers. Her silence craves a home in me.

For seventeen years we’ve been held safe in this home, this yard. My boys used to touch the cherry’s soft sap, in wide-eyed amazement. And after it hardened in the sun, they’d run their fingers over it’s glossy smile. They’d tug on her leggy branches to make it snow petals on their heads.

“Vulnerability is a portal to a deeper power.” Chameli ArdaghOne Spring, back when my sixteen-year-old was four, the wind was kicking up a perfect petal blizzard. My boy took one look and scampered toward the back door. As he burst outside, the sun simultaneously came out from behind the clouds. I called to him, “the sun came out just as you did!” He yelled back, “yeah, that’s because it didn’t see me before!” Then he ran through Grandma’s pink waterfall, with arms and heart open wide.

He believed, quite naturally, that the Sun cared. For him. That the Sun saw. Who he was. That God placed the sun and the stars and old cherry trees, for us. And these things, pulsing with life, somehow love us, because Life loves us. My boy didn’t question the synchronicity that day. Why do I question my grief when I’m feeling adrift? When the world isn’t what I want it to be?

I realize I’m trying to hold on to what was never mine to keep.

%22Be like a tree, let the dead leaves drop. .....~Rumi

When I hold on tight, it hurts more. That includes feelings. When I ignore ‘em, they’ll spew forth at the most inappropriate people and places. They’ll create dis-ease. They’ll separate me from me, and me from you.

Rejected emotions, like abandoned
inner kids, need to be accepted,
heard and honored. No matter how
old or annoying. Tears calm the
inner tantrum and clear the mind.
They set the pain free so we can let go. So we can trust the circle of life, again.

Until the next season.

“You have to feel it to heal it.”Our culture teaches us, and especially burdens our menfolk, with the notion that vulnerability makes us weak. I realize that this is hogwash… but… I still find myself ashamed of my deepest feelings, even though I feel stronger after I’ve acknowledged them. Even though they make me the most real. They deepen my compassion. Our common humanity. They open us up and pull us together, where we belong. As one.

 Cherry Tree Spence

My oldest sitting in our Cherry tree

I’m such a sapling.

Fortunately, I’ve had a loving Mom who knew the truth about feelings. But even with her gentle encouragement over the years to “have a good cry,” I still resist. And then a few days ago, Grandma Cherry dropped a limb right near my youngest son and his friend. And the dam broke.

“It’s time,” Grandma seemed to say, “to let go. Of the sadness you’ve been stuffing. Let it be.”

%22Everything happens for you, not to you.Byron Katie

 

I walk toward our three towering Mama Maples, who solemnly bear witness with me, bowing to Grandma. We watch her from afar, as if we might catch a glimpse of some holy spirit leaving us. As if the quiet would give up her secrets.

I remember the mourning dove pair that perches together on her high curves, and the crow clan that loves to gab and laugh up there. I return to these natural joys, often, when the world seems off it’s nut.

I wipe away the last of my tears. I hope my neighbors aren’t watching :)

Then I picture, said neighbors, joining me, without judgment or shame, to circle around Grandma, around the confounding mysteries, around the people and the things we love so fiercely. Around the life that can no longer be. Around the Greater Love that will always be.

I imagine the earth’s light coming up through our feet. Lifting us. The world. Higher – above the pain and the losses, to the joy beyond them all.

I thank the lilacs that once loved us, trees that breathe us alive, kids that teach us, a world that needs us, and Dad’s and weeping Cherry’s that leave us… better than we were before.

 I have watched the trees when they pray

click on the pic to read the poem :)

WHEN I AM AMONG TREES

by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It’s simple,”
they say, “and you, too, have come into the world to do this, to go easy,
to be filled with light, and to shine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A wonderful colleague, Meg Tobin, is offering a beautiful online course for Mothers and Daughters! Plus Meg is giving a discount to Nothing Short of Joy subscribers – use code JOY16 for $125 off! Unlike the early bird discount she is offering, this one does not expire.

Click here for all the delight-filled details :)

Maiden Sisterhood: Join your daughter on a journey to discover a new story. Your story. Together.

MAIDEN

Meg Tobin“This fully online course brings together mommas and daughters ages 8 to 12 to explore the changing landscape of girls’ bodies and emotions as they enter puberty and the implications of those changes on the mother/daughter relationship. Come together with your girl for information, healing and joyous connection! The course begins on Monday September 19th. Mommas will meet online for 6 Mondays from 8-9 pm EST, with a focus on using EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique, or tapping) to heal past wounds that impact our ability to gracefully usher our girls to their place in the circle of womanhood. Mommas and girls will meet online for 6 Saturdays from 8-9 am EST with a focus on facts, self-care, boundaries and intimacy building.”

Meg Tobin is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor and Certified EFT Practitioner based in Upstate NY. Read more about her  here.

Check out the course here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wishing you
green, green meadows,
cooling shade,
summer fun,
and wide open sky…
~Julie
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Signs from Dad: Finding Blessings in the Broken Places

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%22To these memories I will hold. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Billy BoydI’ve been wanting to write to you about my Dad ever since he slipped into the great beyond last year. Sitting here at the keyboard, biting my lip, I’m intimidated and perplexed as to how to tackle something so big. A whole lifetime. A sudden loss.

I’m worried my words won’t do him justice. My feelings are too fumbled. I keep rereading my straggly sentences – and deleting. Grief is such an uncharted journey. What I thought I understood about saying goodbye, pales in comparison to the reality. The questions. The unknown.

So I hang on to the signs.

The morning after Dad died, feeling shocked and heartbroken, I asked him to please send a sign that he was watching over Mom – that his spirit was alive and well. That we’d all be ok.

As I sent the prayer, I pushed the backdoor open to let our dog out, and there was sudden thunderous honking from a long V of Canadian geese! They were flying very low, the lead goose cresting right over our home – I flinched in surprise, but my heart hit the sky! I cried and I laughed – it felt jubilant! Triumphant! Holy! Dad’s answer was swift, certain and celebratory – a lot like he was. Is. A free bird!

%22We go to the grave saying, ‘A man is dead,’ but angels throng about him saying, ‘A man is born’.Henry Ward Beecher

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canadian geese are residents at my favorite pond, and after years of taking personal days there, to sit, write and just be, they feel like friends.

Julie & geese Hedden copy

That’s me and my winged friends at the pond :)

Last year, we even untangled a little gosling caught in fishing line. So on that bleak morning, a raucous and victorious V was the perfect messenger :)

In fact, Dad kind of reminds me of those geese. They can be bold and fierce – they’re not afraid to stand up for themselves or their goslings. They’re protective and proud parents (who are known to be black and white.) They hail from Canada where my mom’s family, and now all our families, have a very special summer cottage.

Since the first day without Dad, and that striking sign, I continue to ask for God’s reassurance that Dad hasn’t really left our lives. And Dad never disappoints. When I’ve asked, he has landed a flaming red dragonfly on my finger, sent sand dollars in ocean waves, perched a hawk right outside my window, and drawn a rainbow hawk in the clouds. (When I was a girl, his name in our Indian Princess tribe was “Thunder Hawk.”)

“Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. ~Tagore

%22fire rainbow hawk

 

 

 

 

 

A few weeks ago, I had four blissful days to myself while cat-sitting at a friend’s. The morning I was leaving, I happened to read a post from Karen Noe’s newsletter ~ she recommended asking our loved ones for *without a doubt* signs that they are still with us.

So as I drove over to kitty-sit, I asked Dad for just that. Later in the day, I walked out into my friend’s beautiful backyard and noticed the woodpile. I thought Dad might send a chipmunk, which I adore. Although I don’t see them that often, I then dismissed them as too common to be *indisputable.*

But as I continued to walk, a chipmunk did pop up by the house… and then ran straight at me! I froze in place half wondering if a shy chippy would zip right over for a cuddle. It came within five feet. Wow. As it ducked under the shed, I laughed to myself… but not so sure that this was my sign.

Within a minute, something caught my eye in a nearby birch tree. I don’t know why I noticed it, really – the soft blush color was well hidden amidst the white and gray. As I walked closer, though, I saw her – the sweetest baby robin seamlessly camouflaged in the birch! See her? So precious, she melted my heart. The fuzzy white tuffs of new feathers were softly blowing in the breeze. Awwwwww! (You can see a quick video of her here, close-up! Sorry the video is sideways, I was too excited to realize!)

baby robin camouflaged

beautifully camouflaged baby robin :)

This is Dad’s work! He knows I’m a sucker for nature’s babies! I marveled and cooed and appreciated and photographed that adorable little robin.

As I turned to walk away, thrilled in my treasured discovery, a shadow from above caused me to look up, and there it was: a majestic great blue heron sailing across the sky! Another one of my heroines from my favorite pond. I could just imagine Dad cheering and laughing along with me!

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Shakespeare

An old photo of my boys watching a V of geese!

Dad knows what I love, and from his heavenly place of camouflage, he speaks fluent heron, chipmunk & baby bird. He hit a loving triple play that afternoon, speaking *indisputably* to my soul.

Keep ‘em coming, Dad. I love you so much.

%22For all that has been - thanks! To all that shall be - yes! Dag Hammarskjold

wishing you victorious signs, comfort, and lotsa love, 

Julie signature copy

P.S. I wanted to invite you to a free online summit called,

The Intuitive Child, Nurturing The Inner Wisdom Within

❤  The Intuitive Child is hosted by my wonderful colleague, Abby Gooch, the founder of Life Force Connection. She’s a talented intuitive coach who helps her clients listen to, trust and act on the guidance their intuition provides.

I’ll be one of the 21+ speakers, so I hope you can join us! I’m looking forward to listening to all the interviews myself :)  Please register here. ❤ 

%22how fortunate are you and I who’s home is timelessness we who have wandered down.e.e.cummings

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The Queen of Autumn: Leaf Piles and Present Moment Magic

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How beautifully leaves grow old(Originally posted at my Huffington Post Blog in 2011!)

As my neighbors grumble about the leaves covering their lawn, my boys wait wide-eyed, with mighty rakes in their hands. The time is here; our delicate Japanese maple has finally shed enough of her red robe for a ginormous leaf pile.

Our maple stands on duty, everyday, a quiet nanny to a neighborhood of fast friends. She stoops down low for even the smallest of sneakers to scale and reaches high enough for the bigger kids to walk on air.

As the seasons move past, dependable and reassuring, she’s alive in our photos: summer kids dangling like earrings from her limbs, green leaf stew at her feet. There are winter snowmen around her waist and a count down to Christmas in her ears.

But her infamous time of year is Now, when ruby-red leaves dance and drop from her skies. The dogwood nearby offers a generous contribution and the old oak by the street throws in her golden leaves. But no one is fooled. We all know who is really Queen of Autumn.

autumn maple n snow

Our autumn maple in an early snowfall, 2011

“We can rake now, right Mom?” my ten-year-old asks as he watches a squirrel tight rope through our bare maple. “Yup we definitely have enough leaves,” I answer, as he breaks for the garage. “C’mon Ky, let’s get the rakes!” My six-year-old scurries behind him, a bagel in hand, no shoes on his feet.

I grab my camera and step out front. Long rake handles appear first, bobbing above our front bushes, taller than both boys combined. As the work begins, our maple occasionally catches their hair in her branches or snags the wooden handles. Nothing inconveniences the boys, though, as they move with purpose and enthusiasm. Spencer tugs at the glorious crimson carpet, sweat beading on his forehead, as our maple exhales oxygen and inhales CO2 in a beautiful exchange.

From across the street, our twin nine-year-old neighbors, Manuela and Thomas, spot the fun and rush to join the leaf brigade. Thomas refuels the effort where Ky has petered out. “We can make a pile as high as the house!” he yells with glee. Spencer’s tired rake is reluctantly passed off to Manuela, who moves with invigorating new purpose. A monstrous pile is built.

autumn 1

Can you find all three faces…

My maple and I smile with motherly pride. Appreciating the present moment, I remember where peace and joy resides. “I jump first!” Spence yells. “Second!” Ky pipes in. “Third!” “Fourth!” Thomas and Manuela add. Our eight-year-old neighbor Danny suddenly runs into the yard yelling, “Fifth!”

I balance my smiling camera as Bill comes to enjoy the spectacle. Like our maple, the kids stand ready for the joy ahead, for snuggling in next year’s shade, for the long upward climb into adulthood.

We watch as Spence backs way up to begin his debut run. He takes off with a bang and then, with an enormous leap and a giggly shout, he dives head first into the autumn womb.

“Laughing is jogging on the inside

With laughter spilling around like sunshine, I feel reconnected with it all. The smell, the crunch, the gratitude for a world breathing in and out. I have the boys to thank. They won’t let their childhood pass us by too quickly. At least not today.

Soon our maple will be hailing the holidays, branches lined with elegant white snow. Although I may get distracted by the busyness, scurrying to get it all done,  I can count on our maple to etch our lives in peace.

In the years ahead, as our sons find new joy and work in this world, Bill and I want to be there with them, celebrating each new season of their lives. All the while we’ll remember the days of autumn leaf piles when friends and family (and an elegant Japanese maple) were there to steady our souls.

Be like a tree, let the dead leaves drop. .....~Rumi

“Everything I let go of has claw marks on it.Anne Lamott

Let it go,

let it be,

for love,

XO

Julie

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Surrendering to the Present Moment …for Parents, Caregivers and other Control-Freaks

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Wayne DyerI want to take a moment, before my post, to bid a fond farewell to the beloved Wayne Dyer who passed into the Great Beyond Sunday, Aug 30th, 2015, on the heels of a supermoon. I felt so shocked & saddened by the news… but I also feel a thrill for Wayne on his continued journey into the light. It makes me smile thinking of his reunion with his mom and with the father he never knew. Six years ago, Wayne gave me my first big break by endorsing my memoir and later inviting me on stage with him, in front of 1000 people! It was the first time I’d ever spoken to an audience… (here’s the short video his daughter Skye took of me~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0BjCw_uZdM.) I was a bundle of nerves, but I was also utterly inspired by Wayne’s belief in me. And I did it! He showed me I could. I’ll never forget him and the divine gifts he left behind. I love you, Wayne. God speed!

 

And now for my regularly scheduled program : )

“For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe. Larry Eisenberg

“For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe.” 

Oh if only I would.

It’s been an emotional month for my family. As a result, I’ve been wrestling with a personal delusion I’ve long clung to ~ the belief that somehow, through my own great love, effort and awareness, I can control my life, my husband’s life and my boys life so we’re all happy, healthy and safe. Forever.

Herein lies a big problemo.

What can I do (or stop doing) when darkness knocks on their door and I can’t make it go the hell away?

Just two months ago I was lounging in my wonderful friend Kimberly’s pool. Despite the grief surrounding my Dad’s passing, I felt some comfort believing that life wouldn’t dare hurt me again for a very long while. (I was wrong.) Nonetheless, I was soaking in the elation of a five day soul-o retreat while Kim was on vacation. The quiet time is an unimaginable, indescribable, spine-tingling joy. I’m in awe of this remedy back to myself and back to what matters.

The miracle . . . is being alive to it all. Even to the insects. I kid you not.

On my second day away, I decide to cool off in the pool. Immediately I see a beetle madly paddling in the blue. The desperate swimmer kinda draws me in. I grab a leaf from the side of the pool and let the beetle climb aboard. I deliver it to the warm cement and then turn around just in time to spot another bug. Sigh.

I rescue the other bug and transport it back to terra firma. And because in my glorious days of nothingness, I am free to do anything at all, I watch this bug. Closely. And you know what? It’s like opening the weirdest gift. I pinky swear.

I watch the bug lift her hair-thin arms and carefully clean her antennae, face and head. Then she balances on her arms and uses her wispy little legs to wipe every other part of her crunchy little form. From tip to stern, top to bottom, she shakes off her brush with death. She test pumps her caboose and then runs toward the grass. How do those teensy appendages work so perfectly?

To protect what is wild. Terry Tempest Williams

The next bug I bump into is a goner. I bring it to the side of the pool, anyway, so I don’t end up wearing it. It’s a sweet black beetle with two red polka dots on her back. I return to the blue for another bug I’d seen. This one has flatlined, too. But when I go to scrape it off my oak-helicopter, an antenna suddenly pops up from its previously slicked back position. Then an arm twitches and slowly swipes down along the antenna. The other antenna spoings forward.

Slowly, this miniature chlorinated creature begins to rejuvenate right before my eyes. Call me crazy, but it’s mesmerizing.

I start rooting for the bug.

Like the other critter, with great precision and rhythm, it brushes it’s little black hairs, over and over. It’s movements look almost . . . human. In a creepy-crawlie kinda way, of course. Still, it stops me cold.

surrender to love. Let it go

Then I notice that the reverse lady-bug with the red dots, who appeared dead as a doornail, is crawling across the cement. Whoa. I watch it check it’s wings for flight and then it buzzzzzes away.

Looking out across the pool, I’m now actually searching for victims to airlift. And I’m gigglesnorting. It feels a little ridiculous . . . but it’s fun being a bug bus.

Google tells me there are 10 quintillion (10,000,000,000,000,000,000) insects on earth. Seriously, that’s nineteen zeros. Why do we see insects as ‘pests’ when there would be no life here without them?

Stepping foot on planet earth means you’re gonna get seriously bugged. From every direction.

Recently, I heard myself whispering, “The world has gone half-crazy. How in heaven’s name do I keep my boys safe? Protect them from the struggles and the mountains of pain that humans face?”

Chaos is only an illusion. It's what you see when you can' t see far enough

Sunset at a recent BBQ at the lake. Whoa.

The only response, the truly sane, powerful and peaceful response, is letting go. Letting it all go.

Oh if only I could.

When life shocks and appalls me, my mind declares war. I armor up. Fears swarm around me in an exhausting and vigilant attack. To protect and defend. “I can fix this, I can solve this. It’s up to me, it’s up to ME!”

The truth is I am only in control of my response to life events, but I can’t duct tape the tides. I sometimes get these two subtleties confused.

I don’t always trust Grace to guide me. I rely on ME because it’s too scary to admit I don’t have control and that I’m just afraid of what lies ahead for me and the people I love. Eek.

 

So I let myself cry. And I pray. And I let go. And then I slowly recognize how far I’ve strayed from the power of the present moment. Those bugs slicking back their bristles. Getting on with life. Why can’t I?

In witnessing the mystery of those tiny beasts, I came alive, too. I saw beauty in something ugly. I felt compassion and awe. As I watched with full attention, I released the reigns that choke. I surrendered the idiocy of control. I remembered the glory and the simplicity of being a little bug bus.

At one point, I’d looked up from that pool and had seen this small pastel fire rainbow (in the photo.) Can my worries, even months later, compete with it?

Angels believe in you.Jan Phillips

See that lil pastel fire rainbow up there?

By allowing the vulnerability of being human, of brokenness, I gain the strength that lies behind it all. This gigantic life is not all up to me. The truth is sweet relief – fear doesn’t protect or pollinate. I gotta give up the urgency. The anguish. Give up the struggle. Give it all up.

Why?

So I can enjoy this walk on earth. So I can be present to it all. When I live with an open heart, I revive and reconnect to something bigger. Brighter. Wiser. Although I may try to grab back the throne & scepter tomorrow, I let ‘em go for now. I’m handing in my resignation (again) as controller of the cosmos.

It isn’t the events that drown us, it’s our fear that we cannot endure them, which leaves us out of breath.

Challenges and heartaches weren’t meant to be pests. They help us live with a brave heart and a greater capacity for love and acceptance. If the ‘lowly’ insects can see with an exceptionally wide-angled view, we can do it, too.

The choice is always there – to let what’s bugging us close our heart down OR to let adversity open our heart wider. Vulnerability brings the hard truth – this life is temporary and uncertain – but vulnerability can also bring the kind of joy that children feel. Delight still waits for us each day, even in the midst of despair. Especially then.

No matter how cold-hearted people can be, no matter how blindsided we’ve been, when we stand open in the present moment, the world is awash with wonders. A quintillion of them.

C’est la bee.

 

with love, 

and a deep bow to the mysteries,

❤ Julie

gosling 2 copy

Lil Goddess all grown up, beautiful (& flying like a pro!)

 

P.S. An update on Lil Goddess & our rescue mission (from my last post.) The whole Canadian goose family is doing well! Here are some photos and updates~

gosling foot 1 copy

Tears and punctures in her webbed foot. But they don’t stop her!

 

 

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What Has You Hogtied? Rescuing a Peace of the Wild

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The Peace of the Wild Things Wendell Berry

Click on photo to enlarge (for easier reading!)

After a painful money-argument with the hubster, I head to my favorite park for some healing perspective. As I leave, Bill tries to hand me two slices of his homemade whole wheat bread for the ducks. I pull the door shut in response.

At the pond, I immediately spot the gorgeous great blue heron. The sight of her, and this natural world, always wows me. My breath deepens.

The ducks and geese bring their downy babies. Their seamless water-wake further muffles my turmoil. I throw a few paltry pieces of sandwich crust, wishing I’d taken Bill’s peace offering.

I notice one gosling, swimming alone. When she finally comes to the water’s edge, she can barely stand. She struggles up and plunks down. Up and down until she loses her footing and tumbles back down the embankment. Oh no! The mama goose squawks and runs alongside her baby, helpless.

My heart has dashed outside my body and wrapped itself around this gosling goddess. Animals have always captured my soul. Once, while trying to rescue a fish that was dangling on a hook and line, stuck in branches, I fell into a very stinky pond. The camera in my pocket was never the same. But the fish was freed.

Finally the lil trouper gosling goes up, down, up, down and makes it to the grass. I exhale. I realize my stress won’t offer her strength. So I close my eyes and start sending healing energy. It’s all I’ve got. But according to our Dr. Emoto’s rice experiment, it’s enough.

As I call in the angels, the rest of the geese family continues grazing a few feet away. The diligent parents keep an eye on me. Eventually they relax and begin their extensive primping. I appreciate their trust.

The self I am when I listen… Nature is my wisest self made visible outside of me.Edveeje Fairchild

The Lil Goddess grazes and preens, too, but in an odd sitting position. She seems unfazed. Maybe her leg is just sprained.

The other goslings slowly move behind me, as they graze. Lil Goddess awkwardly inches in their direction and ends up right in front of me, only a foot away.

I am in love.

I continue my prayers. Then Lil Goddess starts peeping softly at my feet. I open my eyes and get the distinct feeling I need to WATCH. LOOK. I stare at the adorable fur ball and breathe. As she tries again to stand (but can’t) I see it. There’s a fish hook in one webbed foot and it’s attached to taut fishing line that’s binding the other leg.

Oh no, help!

I need Bill.

I phone in the troops. Ten minutes later, my family arrives, ready for action. Bill has various tools, and those two slices of bread. My anger has washed away.

It can sound selfish to take a break or go off to a quiet place. But as soon as you do sit still.Pico Iyer

One son has two pole grabbers (which I use to reach things at home) in case we need to fend off panicked geese parents.

My family huddles for the game plan. My oldest and I will use the bread to lure the geese further onto the grass. Bill and my youngest will fall in behind Lil Goddess and grab her. Gently.

Hoo boy, I’m nervous. Geese can be fierce and we’re about to break their trust. There must be twenty other geese hanging out in the shade ten feet away. Will they attack when we grab the goddess?

Suddenly one of the geese parents lets out a HOWLING HONK and dashes straight at Bill, who is now holding Lil Goddess – he got her! Bill hands her to my youngest (who is thrilled) as my oldest continues to throw bread, grabbers at the ready.

But the geese parents are suddenly uncharacteristically quiet and polite. Maybe they know we’re here to help?

Bill and I get to work.

Lil Goddess squirms at first but then relaxes. The barbed hook has left several holes in her black webbing and is presently piercing through two spots. Bill starts to snip the hook and gently ply and weave until . . . it’s out!

We switch to the other leg to remove the fishing line. It’s a tangled mess, and it’s very tight on her leg. Bill clips carefully at a few spots and, at last, I find an end to unwind and unwind and unwind until . . . it’s off! There are deep indentations where the line had been constricting her. Ouch. But there aren’t any serious wounds. Phew.

My youngest sets her down and she runs for her family. Free at last!

Joy!

Other than a slight limp, Lil Goddess is looking dandy . . . and no one was goosed. Mission accomplished, on several levels.

I came to the pond hoping to free myself. Life gave me an unexpected opportunity to offer freedom, instead. Without my having to try, it came back around and released me from my anger. It’s still astonishing how that works.

Don't just do something. Sit there

Bill gives me a hug as my family leaves the sanctuary. In my quiet hours ahead, the goose family comes and goes several times. Each time, Lil Goddess lags five minutes behind. Aw. My heart can so relate.

I spent my childhood feeling I could never keep up with my peers, my life. I thought I would always stumble and fall, up, down, up, down, because of my arthritis and dwarfism.

Lil Goddess’s predicament echoed my own binding BS (Belief Systems). When I feel fear (False Evidence Appearing Real,) and I withhold love from anyone, I deprive myself. It’s an angry tangled mess.

What has you hogtied?

My mind often insists that I should analyze and solve my problems, with fierce focus, by myself. Independent. An island. Alone.

But believing in that separation is exhausting. It’s a blindfold to the ocean of help around and within me.

When I go outdoors, I pause. Watch. Breathe. Be. Somewhere in the breeze, the rippling water, the bird’s song – my mind’s fearful grip is lulled to sleep. BS can’t hold up against the vastness. My soul can re-enter and peace returns. I peep quietly at the feet of majesty. 

You do not sit down and solve problems. Thomas Merton

When we yield to the present moment, we naturally offer our love and care to the world. We are freed from worry by resting in the Oneness that we truly are. Our aliveness is always patiently waiting in the wild wings.

A lil webbed goddess showed me that.

before rescue rangers copy

Lil Goddess before the M.A.S.H rescue mission 

 

after the rescue copy 

Lil Goddess grazing, afterward 

 

resting after the rescue copy

The family of geese resting together, after the rescue : )

with abundant love and downy peace,

Julie

If you liked this story, you might also enjoy these past posts:

Where True Control Really Lies and Celebrating Everyday Miracles & Mother Nature’s Magic

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Dancing at the Division of Motor Vehicles: Transforming Drudgery into Joy

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Don't quit your daydreamI‘ve no choice. An hour ago, Bill found out he’ll be away on business all week. My license has to be renewed and I do not want to drag my boys along with me. Ugh.

It’s lunchtime…on a Friday…at the end of the month, and I’m driving to the DMV. As I’m complaining to myself about the dreaded lines, sour faces and stale air, I suddenly stop. Why am I playing the victim? There’s power in our intentions. If I don’t want a rain dance; I’d better start imagining a sunny salsa. So, I ask my angels to help me get the party started at the DMV.

Maybe I’ll meet some great people. We’ll talk and laugh and the time will fly. “Wow the line is moving so fast,” we’ll say. “Just look at how efficient and friendly the employees are. The DMV has never operated so beautifully!”

When I pull into the parking lot, my happy hula dashes on the pavement. The place is so packed that people are parking on the street. Yikes. I spy one parking place and zip in. I’m re-inspired. This is going to be good.

As a man and a woman walk in ahead of me, we smile at each other and mosey up to the same line. Soon enough, we are joking and laughing about all the paperwork we had to gather to prove our identity. The man comments on how quickly the long line is moving.  The boogie has begun.

I glance over at the two women in charge of this first line. One is somber Sally who rarely looks up. The other looks like Joan Rivers; she’s animated and engaged. I’d rather rumba with her.

As the two new friends ahead of me land with Sally, I mambo up to Joan. “Hi!” I say with cheer. “Well hello there, sweetheart! How are ya?” Joan asks. “I’m great, thanks! This line is moving so quickly, thanks to you.” “Just wait for the next line,” she warns. “Well I can still hope!” I add with a laugh.

Adversity isn't a disadvantage. It's a doorway. We get to decide how to interpret the dance.” unknown

Joan is a hand-jive expert as she clips and flips my dance cards. “Okay, babe, head on over to the next line and wait to be called.”

“Wow,” I say as I leave, “you’re good – thank you so much!”

Before I get far, I hear a loud call. “JUL-I-A!” I turn to find Joan sashaying toward me. “Will you be paying with check, cash or credit?” she asks. “Oh credit,” I answer, as Joan and I move toward the counter where everyone wants to be. “Okay, doll, wait right over there,” Joan says, as she points toward the crowd, “You’ll be called in a few.”

A few?

That’s DMV lingo for an hour. I sit down next to a pale looking soul and ask how long she’s been waiting. “Forty-five minutes,” she drones and looks away. As I reach for my book, I hear the loud speaker: “JULIA BOND GENOVESE, line five please.”

Huh?

I find line five. There’s no one in it. An employee with a disco smile asks for my Visa. She shuffles my papers and types away as I chat with a woman in the conga line next to me.

A minute later, I’m handed my Visa and my new license. I look up in shock. “Am I done?” “Yup,” she says with pearly pride. Whoa. It’s been only fifteen minutes.

As I watusi out the doors, I realize it must have been Joan. I feel as if she personally awarded me the Mirrorball Trophy. I drive home in amazement. My intention worked. I asked for fun and an angel two-stepped in.

We are so full of holes we become holy

Suddenly I realize I didn’t thank Joan! I am a dance school drop-out, an ingrate! At home I grab a copy of my memoir, Nothing Short Of Joy, and start to write an inscription. To my DMV angel? I don’t know how to address her so I leave a space and head back to DMV.

When I arrive, I see Joan and throw my arms wide and yell, “THANK YOU SO MUCH!” As we hug, I tell her that she gave me the most magical DMV experience ever. She whispers in my ear, “It’s a two hour wait today, sweetheart. I just couldn’t do it to you.”

We say goodbye, but as my spirit pirouettes toward the door, I hear a familiar call from my angel, “JUL-I-A!” As I turn toward her light, she throws a kiss and shouts, “God Bless you!”

Joan’s real name? It was Angela. Because even at the DMV, angels are always ready to dance.

Take the high road

Enjoy your dance with the divine today,

with much love & freedom = )

  Julie

If you’re looking for some self-help inspiration, check out the Healthy, Wealthy and Wise Giveaway. There are tons of freebies available – Health, Wealth, Personal Fitness & Business Building Gifts. There is also some hype to wade through (sorry) and you have to register, but it’s worth it for the amount of info available. You can always unsubscribe after you find the good stuff. Be well! xoxox

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