I’ve been having stress dreams for weeks. Last night was no exception.
I’m not afraid in them, but I go round in circles telling people the same things again.
“Get out, go away, don’t come back, you cannot stay.”
And yet they come back anyway.
Life imitates art.
Each day a new message from some historical figure I’d long since forgotten about. Another one this morning, but I’m not entertaining.
Block and walk away.
If you pay attention the Universe will tell you (loud and clear) what it’s trying to say.
I’m talking to my new good fortune spell jar, every day. Sometimes I want to call it Beary, but he’s long since gone away. This one needs a new name. Sometimes I want to call it Jelly, or Patty, or Estelle, but I just can’t decide on one good name.
I think my good fortune should be a female, anyway.
What’s a good fortunate female name?
I put down roots in the desert for a reason. I’m here to stay.
I’m ready to be done running away.
This isn’t overnight oats, but I have lots of strategy.
Light some candles, play some Ram Dass or Alan Watts or Neville Goddard (I sleep to them too!).
Talk to Jelly/Patty/Estelle, dance through the living room, piddle around the yard. Wash the dishes, fold and organize a shelf full of plastic bags (which should probably go outside anyways).
Dust and sweep and wash wash wash.
Look in the mirror real slow and think about what’s really going on.
When I was a kid I was crazy about horses. I tried having a very adult conversation with my dad in a car ride one time.
“So I know I haven’t been great at taking care of pets before, but this time will be different. I promise I’ll feed and water it every day and brush it and you won’t ever have to do a single thing!”
I think he just spent the car ride with me silently.
But when I was 9, I had the chance to volunteer at a local farm. It wouldn’t cost my parents a thing, and I’d be up to my ears in horse hair (often literally).
It was for a handicapped riding program. I had to learn how to help handicapped riders get on the horses, and either lead the horse or walk alongside to help steady them when needed.
I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn’t care. One foot in front of the other other. Charge on forward!
When I earned the chance to take riding lessons, things started to heat up. Now I had to go out in the pasture and catch my own horse.
I was only 10 years old now. And the lesson horses were big, running in a herd of 30+ and often in the back 80 acres. Sink or swim, kid.
But I’d tromp out there anyways. Wide eyes, and absolutely terrified.
Sometimes I came back with the wrong horse because I got the color right and the markings wrong.
Sometimes I came back without any horse after several hours of trying and failing. But the next day I’d go right back out and try again.
Now I know so much about horses, even if I don’t ride. I’m still a million miles ahead of where that 10 year old kid-me was. And I never knew the path I was on to get from there to more knowledge.
I just kept walking out to the pasture with a halter and lead rope in my hand. Never knowing if I’d come back with the right horse or empty handed.
I think the miracle was in the mindset.
I never walked out thinking, “oh, I’m going to mess it up again.”
I just walked out empty headed. Excited to simply be on a horse farm. Lucky me!
Some kid living on the main street in a teeny tiny Midwest town.
You can really do incredible things if you just go on about it a bit empty headed. Enjoy the fact you’re simply here in the moment. What a miracle! What a life!
Don’t ever let one failure make you compromise.