Thursday, November 26, 2009

Right Timing

As with any unfolding over time, it'd be tricky to pinpoint exactly where this story begins. So in the fashion of the old Seinfeld episode about the India wedding, I think it's best if I start at the end and work my way backwards: start here, and move to "1 hour earlier..." then "3 weeks earlier..." and etcetera, concluding with "2 years earlier"--or in this case, nine.

The current "here" is deep into heavy duty restoration of a room in my home that is about to become a tranquil, sacred place of clearing and transformation for all who enter it. I abandoned this restoration project five or six years ago. But not before I had hired a man, for an agreed upon price, to finish this room (my office) and a bedroom. "Ready to paint" was the deal.


I never saw a man work so slowly. He exceeded the cap and then some, with all additional hours billed to me, and was still far from finished. I had hired him to begin with because I was exhausted. I had restored so much of the rest of the house with my own two hands, and these two rooms, in their terrible shape, did me in. I wanted nothing more than to surrender my putty knife, joint compound, sanding block, and the rest for all time. But I had to either break the bank or let him go. I let him go, which put the job back in my own lap, sinking my spirits and motivation to a new low. All I could manage was to close the door. Thankfully I
could close the door. My temporary office on the cold side of the house turned permanent, and that was that.

Until now. The door is open, and I am back on the task with a new fervor. My sunny, sweet little corner room has a new purpose but is in no shape to serve it. I am on a mission to take care of that.

On December 7, a dear, multitalented friend will come secure and resurface its ceiling, while in the interim I will have a window sash rebuilt, finish plastering the walls, sand the woodwork, then paint everything in sight. I could not force myself to do this on any one of the days of the last six years. Now, nothing can keep me from it.


I am inspired by the clear vision of healing/treatment room, an inspiration that took physical form yesterday when I bought, from a most beautiful man with very good energy, a gorgeous Stronglite professional massage table. A month ago, I had no need for such a table. I have never once thought of owning such a table. Its purchase, its presence in my midst, is completely unpredictable.

What happened? Treatment room, massage table: for
what?

For Reiki, in fact, my most recent "of course" along the way of listening and following. What
Reiki? The Reiki I am now trained to conduct, the Reiki I am administering daily to myself and all who ask for it. How did this happen?

Nine Novembers ago I took a Therapeutic Touch training, prompted by the reading of a gifted astrologer friend. She told me I had healing energy in my hands. "Whether or not you use it, it's there very strongly in your chart." The T.T. training confirmed this in spades, as did the occasional treatments I've done since. Yet I never figured out over the years how to move this energy work from the edges to a more central place in my professional life.

Flash forward to early October, 2009. I shake a woman's hand at a party and before I've let go, she's saying, "Oh, you're a healer, too." This from a stranger with nothing more than a handshake to go on. Which prompted a conversation that left me decided: I would learn Reiki, something I'd never expressly experienced and about which I knew next to nothing. This is how I would fulfill the intention I declared at the start of the year, to "Use the energy in my hands. Invite more of it. Channel lots."

As with the Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer adventure of the Indian wedding--like so many
adventures in life--one thing has led to another. How gracefully I found the perfect teacher in the perfect environment with the perfect classmates. How clearly I see that I have been preparing for this posture and practice for decades. How perfectly this fits my path, fits me. Astrology leads to T.T. leads to Reiki leads to Craig's list leads to John Bondlow who would pass his table and "torch" to me by way of a hug he offered, and I engaged, to keep the good energy going, healing artist to healing artist: tacit, intuited, precisely right.

I cannot explain right timing. I only know that when it strikes, I act. I don't think and weigh, hem and haw; I simply act. Love puts the hands in motion, in service, in use. Suddenly their labors aren't labor at all, and their fruits are rapturously abundant and ever so sweet.
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Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Clarity Moves the Universe

Get clear, and all else follows. The Universe moves heaven and earth--or so it might seem--to fulfill a clear intention. Why? Because the raw material, the "stuff" out of which everything in and around us is cast is like a batter waiting for a mold. Intention provides the mold, and the batter, ever ready to fulfill its purpose, pours. I tell the batter "I want a cupcake," or "I want a Madeleine," or "I want a layer cake this time," and voila! Form follows thought. Case in point, and a beautiful example of this exquisite order in Creation, is Linda's story.

Linda attended a
Clarity workshop I facilitated about a month ago. At the time, she was confused about where to live. She kept going round and round in her mind: Buy a condo? A house? Rent again? She had good reasons for each choice, which confused matters further. By the end of our three hours together, she was clear: she would rent for a year, and reconsider buying at the end of that time. One month later, all was in place--right down to all the boxes showing up for her move. She was so impressed and delighted with the results of the Clarity process, she called to thank me and to share the details.

The place was lovely: lots of light, she told me. But it needed painting, and a couple of other things. Her hesitation showed, apparently, because her prospective landlord asked her, "What...?"


"The paint...," she said.


"I can take care of that, no problem. I'll have the whole place painted before you move in. What else?"


"Well, the stove," she said. And to her amazement, the gentleman offered to take care of that as well. As to her last little niggling concerns, he replied:
"Just take 100 dollars off the rent."

Linda was amazed and pleased of course. But the Grace kept unfolding. Last month's rent? Lease? He could be loose about those too, it turned out. To top it all off, he offered to accommodate her moving in the weekend before Thanksgiving--rent free--so that she could have a peaceful holiday!

It was a deal, needless to say. And the next thing she knew, her team at work was receiving new equipment, and they offered her the empty boxes for her move. "I don't have to buy a single box!" she exclaimed.

Furthermore, she could feel the symbolism of this move, the rightness of this particular place. With its fresh paint, it is bright, warm, welcoming, and the perfect match to the new life she is opening to after a darker period, in a darker environment, marked with pain and loss.


I was thrilled for Linda, hearing her news. And when she thanked and acknowledged me, I accepted her appreciation but turned the acknowledgment right back to her. "You took the ball and ran with it," I said.


Clarity is one thing; seeing it through is another. And my understanding about how this part works brings the Bible stories about Jesus' healings to mind. Jesus was always clear about who accomplished the healing. He opened the way, and those upon whom he laid his hands walked it. "Your faith has healed you," he would say. And when the question was put to him,
"Are you the King of the Jews?"--in other words, did he have power and authority over the ruling powers--he replied similarly: "You say that I am."

The power to heal, the power to create, the power to destroy, to suffer, to rest uneasy in a swirl of confusion, the power to fail Life or to fulfill it: it is in every one of us, now and now and now. Thank you to Linda for her gorgeous reminder of this.
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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Featuring "Menerbes"

Now available:
"Menerbes"
8 x 10 finished size
matted, hardwood frame
for wall or table display
(view image)
one only,

$45

To request this item, contact me.

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Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Armchair Philosophy

I sent the following to a loved one the other day; today it occurred to me to share it here.
I thought more on your comment about not [wanting to repeat] the heaven on earth moments. I say repetition is an illusion. Nothing is ever repeated or repeatable. You change, I change, the planets, the atmosphere, the particles of light, the...chemicals of the moment: it all changes, second by second. I think this is the secret of Life: to realize that all is in constant motion, even though it looks like some things rest unchanged. And [I think] the secret of happiness is to follow that change, to 'ride' it if you will. To joyfully accord with it--maybe even celebrate it. Delight in it. LIVE each new moment in full realization that This is IT - there will not be another [exactly like it]. In reality, there is nothing mundane in daily life; if we think so, it's just because we're being deaf and dumb to this constant 'turn of the wheel'.

My armchair philosophy du jour ;)
And I welcome yours, related or not.
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Monday, November 09, 2009

Holiday Artisan Showcase

I am happy to announce that Love's Freeway will be among the handful of artists and artisans who, with thanks to the J.P. Arts Council, will be showing and selling their wares this weekend in Chestnut Hill. If you are local (i.e., in the Boston, MA USA area), come down and see us--especially if you have loved ones on your holiday shopping list who might enjoy an original, artsy gift that won't break your bank.

This is a one day only event; after that, you'll have just the usual Shopping Mall fare to choose from. Here are the details--I hope to see you there!
Holiday Artisan Showcase
Saturday, November 14
11 a.m. to 6 p.m.
The Mall at Chestnut Hill
199 Boylston Street
Chestnut Hill, MA
You will find us in the Bloomingdale's Fashion Court, in the area in front of J. Jill, Brooks Brothers, and Bloomingdale's Fashion.
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Monday, November 02, 2009

November

So here we are in November. I just turned the page on my Love's Freeway calendar to find Le Port de Cassis there to accompany my days this month. It surprised me a bit, that I'd chosen this image to represent this month. Then I remembered the reasoning behind the choice.

I took the photo in mid October, 2008. I had been swimming in the Mediterranean Sea that day. Hiking les Calanques wearing shorts and not much else, working up a good sweat in the hot sun, meeting at the finish with the reward of a refreshing plunge in one of the turquoise-fingered inlets along that craggy coastline west of Marseille. So although this image of a tranquil, sunny sea port, of strolling in short sleeves, of dining en terrasse may not fit a New Englander's experience--soup making and frost on the pumpkin and fires in the hearth and all--it's a match to what our friends in the south of France (not to mention other parts of the world) are enjoying.

It's hot hot hot, a beach day in Tel Aviv today, my friend Alon tells me. This sugar maple tree, burnishing orange and red by my Jamaica Plain window, is my friend Martine's gold and redenning Provencal vineyard along her back path. Tel Aviv will have its autumn, and Provence its winter, but not yet, not now. It is good to remember this, I think, good to be reminded to hold an expanded view. My experience is not others' experience. That's why I chose this image: for its gentle nudge to look beyond the immediate--beyond the periphery even--to the coming and going, the arising and diminishing, the sprouting and fading. What's here is passing; what's there is arising. None is better than the other, and each has its perfect place and part in the graceful, rhythmic, perpetual turning of the wheel.
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