tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87118941960278906292024-03-14T04:38:26.548-07:00ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-70520290259588076762012-01-06T08:44:00.001-08:002022-05-18T15:24:14.429-07:00THE GRANDMOTHERS’ GIFT<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu4dby2Bqrgh9e6fYGiIA7FT2XPKzixO1gK1hM7JmTeDKrwH3ASKlgGQ0LYJ6TpBrf0dlt94Sv98OwWI-74j6gOxaBTn_rhkp0Wu-q1957x4OtRwYDE688xZ36sBcRyFqQKPd1CNa4ybk/s1600/thumbnail-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu4dby2Bqrgh9e6fYGiIA7FT2XPKzixO1gK1hM7JmTeDKrwH3ASKlgGQ0LYJ6TpBrf0dlt94Sv98OwWI-74j6gOxaBTn_rhkp0Wu-q1957x4OtRwYDE688xZ36sBcRyFqQKPd1CNa4ybk/s1600/thumbnail-1.jpg" /></a></div><style>
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</style> Mornings are special for me, especially on Sundays. This is my day to reflect and give thanks for the gifts that I have received during the week, but one particular Sunday, I found myself giving homage to my grandmothers. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> It began as most with a quiet morning of tea at my kitchen table, and then a second cup outside. From a wrought iron rocking chair, I have full view of my sparkling pool, and an aviary filled with Lovebirds that begin their day splashing about in soft bubbling waters. This day, a treasure among most, continued in usual spirit and routine as Bevva, a chow-poodle mix, rested her chin on my robe covered knee; it was time to meander indoors, and out of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">biting cold</i> air.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> When entering, and before meditation, I noticed a plant in need of much water, so without thought, I reached for a pitcher. I have two: one is a small light green ceramic. The other is stoneware, grey with a crest of blue wildflowers, and each, once belonged to a great-great grandmother.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-hM5fg7sSigobG40tcUTQIheC4GBqjXTiSzOLz7MgE2o9Lq_RmVg6Qc3B3reilmrRPItt47gZfzSSWf2V3KYXs_8RI4QbvH2neI2BvQb0Ba5e9LTeiuTW5iiFfinPpCHS8Y84fMubveW/s1600/thumbnail-14.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-hM5fg7sSigobG40tcUTQIheC4GBqjXTiSzOLz7MgE2o9Lq_RmVg6Qc3B3reilmrRPItt47gZfzSSWf2V3KYXs_8RI4QbvH2neI2BvQb0Ba5e9LTeiuTW5iiFfinPpCHS8Y84fMubveW/s320/thumbnail-14.jpg" width="288" /></a> In routine, I filled the smaller container and began to water each plant with care; it required several refills in order to nourish all plants living throughout the house. For the larger plants, I chose the grey crock. Satisfied that all planters were filled, I dried each pitcher, inside and out, but with particular care when drying the smaller pitcher. You see, this particular piece required special care to dab softly when drying its base because my paternal grandmother, in her wisdom, placed numbered stickers on all family heirlooms. With each number there is a matching code listed inside a notebook with a written explanation of who owned what and how it was used. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Like so many times before, I was careful to keep in place the number 345, but that day for some reason, I grew more curious about it. I knew the pitcher belonged to a grandmother, and on my dad’s side of the family, but that is all I knew, so the search was on… Where was the notebook?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The matching number was easily located and included a written history: “My grandmother’s. A wedding gift from her cousin, my mother’s side, ‘Drake’. Used for milk at breakfast or water at dinner. Given to my mother when mom and dad moved into their own home. Given to me by my step-mother, Birdie Low, when I was a teenager.” (My grandmother’s mom died when she was only child.) Displayed lovingly in the Guest room.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyCEcZIhc-_8SA145tOx_R3oaVmSiTKvAIHVT_WKJWr3Hs0r_cHdvpLrHtQaII-rcX-plWv_ZIxk2SkZmkD4Es161glW6tYrTsfxwU8c38kSNbl8W_Gi4t-Zh2t31in1q6byKeRD2b1sR/s1600/thumbnail-8.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyCEcZIhc-_8SA145tOx_R3oaVmSiTKvAIHVT_WKJWr3Hs0r_cHdvpLrHtQaII-rcX-plWv_ZIxk2SkZmkD4Es161glW6tYrTsfxwU8c38kSNbl8W_Gi4t-Zh2t31in1q6byKeRD2b1sR/s1600/thumbnail-8.jpg" /></a></div>After discovering its history, I couldn’t help but wonder about the women who used it before me. What were they like? What dreams did they dream? Do their spirits live on in me, or do they feel my touch when I embrace the handle their hands once clutched? I wondered with a gracious chuckle, if when my great-great grandmother gifted her wedding present to her daughter, did it ever occur to her that 100 years later, her great-great grand-daughter would use it to water house plants? Probably not. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I spent the better part of that day researching dishes, quilts, and trinkets, and when I reached for the last <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">antique</i>, I found myself on the phone to learn about Mom's family, and the women whose jewelry I wear. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Turning into bed that night and reflecting once more, I took great comfort in adding my day’s work to my Gift Journal: Spent the day with six amazing, strong, life changing women: My Grandmothers’.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br />
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</div>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-3961596658141375082011-06-22T08:42:00.001-07:002011-06-22T08:42:44.258-07:00You've Got It!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://www.flickspire.com/m/LifeSecrets/ThePower">http://www.flickspire.com/m/LifeSecrets/ThePower</a></div>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-778650835053595642011-05-06T16:32:00.000-07:002011-05-06T16:32:20.366-07:00IMPRESSIONS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span></span> You never know what kind of impression you make on someone. Think about it… How many times have you immersed yourself in work or activity, only to catch your mind wondering about a secret mentor, friend, teacher, or even a stranger who made an impression on you? It happens all the time; someone says something, or gives advice that you’ve been waiting for; but have you ever wondered what lessons you leave with others? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The phone rang, and like Captain Kirk, I flipped it open. “Hello?” The caller was a friend I had not heard from in <i>years</i>. <i>Cynthia</i> and I met in another life, when we were both in sales. She and I, and four other women, also in sales, use to meet every Wednesday for lunch. We called it our “Out Early” because that’s what happened; we ate, laughed, brainstormed, and soothed our souls over something chocolate, until it was time to go home. However, life evolves, and as marriages, children, career changes, and relocations ensued; our Wednesday lunches dwindled, until they simply ceased to exist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span>“Robin,” she said, “Kate and I want to have a get-together of sorts! You know...lunch!” Cynthia’s details, were meticulous with schedule and theme...always a theme. “Oh, and bring a gift. Something that represents what’s been keeping you busy all these years.” We ended our call, and I knew without a doubt, Cynthia had not changed a bit. She was still spunky, organized, and energetic, which meant that she was still slender…I was positive of that… I wondered about Kate, though. She was the quiet one, so I was surprised that it was her idea to co-host a reunion. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kate’s home was impressive. It sat atop a hill dotted with aloe and daisies. With the car parked, via valet, I began my stroll up the meandering path sided by a trickling creek bed, spotted with more cacti in bloom. Beyond three flagstone steps, an antique marble topped table was placed strategically under an old twisted mesquite. On the table a ‘Welcome’ sign and small velvet drawstring bags lay, each one with a guests name attached. Inside were instructions indicating that all should rove around the house to the bronze iron gate. The gift bag also held a trinket, which with pleasure, I clasped around my wrist. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lush tropical plantings bordered the path. Water features designed to look like underground streams bubbled to the surface. Around the corner, Kate, lovely as ever, and younger (how did she do that?), greeted her guests with smiles, and a glass of iced hibiscus tea. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The view of dunes that overlooked the Gila Valley was amazing. A cascade of Desert Mountains sculpted by centuries of wind framed the scene perfectly. Beside the pool, Cynthia put finishing touches of crystal cucumber-water filled goblets and buckets of chilling Almond champagne on the table. Yes…I was in the right place…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span>All was lovely, and as expected, things turned wild…in a girl-woman sort of way. Laughter and elaboration of story flourished as each of us brought our <i>gal-pals</i> up to speed with the <i>sads</i> and <i>glads</i> of all that had grown to be. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect day, until Kate, with a tapping on her glass said, “A Toast!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span>“To my vision guided by each and every one of YOU! Blessings.” Kate spoke with elegance and gratitude thanking each of us for <i>her</i> success. She explained that whenever obstacles crossed her, she turned her thoughts on what Belinda or Robin would do. Or how Cynthia or Debra would arrange that. Or perhaps what Barb would say?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span>I felt humbled. You see, the six of us met on Wednesday’s. Otherwise, we didn’t communicate much. We had our lives outside of work and “Out Early” was part of work, but to Kate, our lunches meant more. She valued our opinions and put them to work. For years, unbeknownst to us, our words and experiences guided Kate in her creation. We played a role in her success, and while she was thanking us for that, I was overcome with love and gratitude… I was overcome with the gift that she was giving me. Without Kate’s revelation, would I have ever known my role in someone else’s success? Remember the gift we were supposed to bring? Well, beyond the ribbon and purple striped paper, my gift that day could not compare to what had been given to me… I am forever grateful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span></span></div></div>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-80138422130670220012010-11-28T09:56:00.000-08:002010-11-28T11:33:05.156-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><span style="font-family:georgia;">DID YOU SAY YES WHEN YOU REALLY MEANT NO?</span></span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQstCYU9YBlpwW5N2sSBYiZ5b8w4khu7XcRRM8cLl1p2dJYx286kd6-raaA96WJJkA3jEF_6vQU4F2UTJ0YJ_Dsowdd7P6VyET93QisroJRm3kfwyrnaLMlBD9RvhISwDc4hEUrm2DwBBf/s1600/snakes.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQstCYU9YBlpwW5N2sSBYiZ5b8w4khu7XcRRM8cLl1p2dJYx286kd6-raaA96WJJkA3jEF_6vQU4F2UTJ0YJ_Dsowdd7P6VyET93QisroJRm3kfwyrnaLMlBD9RvhISwDc4hEUrm2DwBBf/s320/snakes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544685074871088706" border="0" /></a></span></span></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><br />Moss Hart, Playwright and Theatre Director,</span></span></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"> said it best: "All the mistakes I ever made were when I wanted to say </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">no </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">and said</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"> yes." </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><br /><br />During moments of reflection, when past transgressions clutter my mind, it is clear where my mistakes were born, and more times than not it is because I said yes; even through screams that shot from my head and out through my ears with a wild <span style="font-style: italic;">No! No! NO!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">(Couldn't the sweet thing offering me 'an opportunity' hear that?) </span>But never mind blaming her. I'm the one who said...<span style="font-style: italic;">ah, yes</span>. I'm the one who allowed someone else to control me. And why? It's simple. I didn't listen to me! I call it the 'Didn't Listen to Me' syndrome; and it is a crutch from the past. You know, that sickness we developed because we wanted to please everyone? We wanted to be liked? <span style="font-style: italic;">Blah!</span><br /><br />Once upon a time, I thought I was doomed as a slave to the 'yes' monster, but recently, I learned that like most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anomalies</span>, this one is curable to. How? I know it's cliche, but just say <span style="font-style: italic;">NO</span>. In a kind tone of voice. When you say <span style="font-style: italic;">no</span> when you mean <span style="font-style: italic;">no</span>, and if you pay attention, you will notice that your body will thank you. Your mind will feel free, and your heart will be at peace. When your mind is free and your heart is peaceful, <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> are in control of you and the life you create will be one of freedom, peace, discipline, love...<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-84726093120709959682010-10-17T09:42:00.000-07:002010-10-17T10:13:53.906-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">"Our Truest Life </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">is </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">When We Are </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">in </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">Our </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">Dreams Awake."</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Henry David Thoreau</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5USdz4A3sFuVlv41TZtRG_7d-1pbs4II7n0AXYABlMY5jb-Jsg4N7U3e-KHIVeqgYO2VPj0m0BkDgrCtJWLC8mdnTrxSFjSr052XNmo4XFoLguIUGGz9gao1UMk27uKD5t5W4NKjLGNL6/s1600/image001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5USdz4A3sFuVlv41TZtRG_7d-1pbs4II7n0AXYABlMY5jb-Jsg4N7U3e-KHIVeqgYO2VPj0m0BkDgrCtJWLC8mdnTrxSFjSr052XNmo4XFoLguIUGGz9gao1UMk27uKD5t5W4NKjLGNL6/s320/image001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529064244829472866" border="0" /></a></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">How many of us are living our dream? Do you even know what your dream is? Think back to when you were a child. What did you do? Were you a builder? Did you tell stories? When you played house, what role did you play? What were your favorite conversations about?</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Think back. When you were using your imagination, who were you?</span></b></span></span></div>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-80731670344782809692010-08-12T17:01:00.000-07:002010-09-26T09:25:07.373-07:00TRUTH<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNz0PAj0c6BYe-SiS0tCphPLgFRyKaG4kydz_irZGhpxC_B8Gmy1gkwM9Sd2stMpIR9ssa_O66Xb6elCCaE7VlCfLPDcwVYvpMxEhND8mWa4CMWmb4a0oy8iGNuhEnEWHU-0z5LpPUwRzG/s1600/thumbnail-2.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNz0PAj0c6BYe-SiS0tCphPLgFRyKaG4kydz_irZGhpxC_B8Gmy1gkwM9Sd2stMpIR9ssa_O66Xb6elCCaE7VlCfLPDcwVYvpMxEhND8mWa4CMWmb4a0oy8iGNuhEnEWHU-0z5LpPUwRzG/s320/thumbnail-2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507915117394400018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">To Have Abundance,</span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> To Take Abundance,</span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">And Still,</span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> Abundance Remains</span></span></i></b></span></div>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-7618901227053462782010-07-27T08:51:00.000-07:002010-08-03T07:40:15.420-07:00THINK ABOUT IT<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY85vLlg6o28Eepam1odINRsXEr6vKin-F-1rI3uBtRL-gEalrBnoOY6wamBzyW6bjqJpB6lBS0UtsgagCOCrhCIA96SfefZWBlyMi6sfZCdK_b7lx8pWVMipUiSc4zS3jXx6oa7to6Ur/s1600/url.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY85vLlg6o28Eepam1odINRsXEr6vKin-F-1rI3uBtRL-gEalrBnoOY6wamBzyW6bjqJpB6lBS0UtsgagCOCrhCIA96SfefZWBlyMi6sfZCdK_b7lx8pWVMipUiSc4zS3jXx6oa7to6Ur/s320/url.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498643286504236114" border="0" /></a>Do you remember Mickey Mouse's fabulous role in Fantasia? He played a wizard, and a very wise wizard at that. Wizardry, the art, or practice of using <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">extraordinary</span> skills, was simply an attempt to use, and explain a component of metaphysical science. Alchemy, another scientific practice during <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">medieval</span> times, uses components of physical science that went further in exploration. Alchemist weren't interested in controlling the weather, or some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nuisance</span> from a neighboring village. They were interested in changing common metals into gold. Later, and figuratively speaking, the Alchemists philosophy graduated into one that says, if we can take any common material and change it into gold, wouldn't we all be rich? Today's alchemist believes in plenty for all. So with that metaphor, what is gold?<br /><br />By common definition, we know about gold. It's valuable and if you are in ownership of plenty, you are rich. But why were a bunch of medieval scientists wanting to turn common metals, dirt if you will, into gold? The answer? They wanted to be rich, of course! Simply, they wanted what gold could provide. But the practice of alchemy wasn't just about a bunch of guys wanting to get rich. After all, if they could discover a way to turn a farmers dirt into gold, wouldn't that benefit the farmer as well? If the alchemist could, by manipulation show the brick layer how to transform his mud into gold, would not the brick layer benefit? Alchemy is the practice of taking something common and turning it into something of more value.<br /><br />So what does this have to do with you and me? I believe that <span style="font-style: italic;">whatever <span style="font-weight: bold;">we</span> believe, we <span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span> conceive. </span>I believe that thought is energy, <span style="font-style: italic;">and what we think about, comes about</span>. So here it is...Could all this nonsense about our economy be something we've contrived? I still wait my turn at restaurants. I still wait in lines at the grocery store. Too many tall people still sit in front of me at the movie theater. And today, I'm going to look at a jeep that I want to purchase.<br />And without shame, I will admit and give thanks that I am blessed.<br /><br />There is still another philosophy that alchemy holds true with...if we listen to that small still voice within <span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">(I call it God</span>), and if we share just 10 percent of our wealth with those who feed our souls, we can have whatever we want! Isn't that taking something of value and making it better?<br /><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5y1Q9xVIVKRPqZ9d91JcB0nFRDdHGIWX84t9ckKYPvsfP0br3YE22WXB8mmjmhMylrWhiIAYKZUutbawwnCKtNseNC0BVK9noOIAnvyby9ysiLItkW-1z3r6V89vNHrY3Usx3q1Z6mxDX/s320/c63a3ee692a57530.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501193213471337394" />So what do we do about our country's state of affairs? Perhaps we can begin by improving upon our own worlds. We could resist the temptation of the <span style="font-style: italic;">I can't.</span> Do what is right. Come to think of it, isn't that what the wizard's apprentice learned?ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8711894196027890629.post-5933199440145431692010-07-25T10:02:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:22:13.537-07:00I ALREADY PLAYED THAT GAMEYears ago, <span style="font-style: italic;">I mean YEARS ago,</span> I found myself in a peculiar situation: <span style="font-style: italic;">I found myself </span>penniless, and for one night, homeless; I slept in my car with nowhere to go the next morning, except perhaps, the passenger seat? And when I say <span style="font-style: italic;">slept</span>, I really didn't. I was so angry at me for my circumstances that I couldn't sleep, and in retrospect, it was good thing I kept myself awake. After all, how could I have kicked myself in the behind?<br /><br />As dawn broke, I could see the pink hue beginning to form on the water. Surfers were unloading gear to catch the best waves, and I did get out of my car to climb into the passenger seat. My mind took me to many places that morning, one of which was just up the highway in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Redondo</span> Beach: The Church of Religious Science. Without thought to my dwindling gas tank, I crawled back behind the wheel, for the 20 minute drive. It was a Wednesday, and very early, so as I expected, nobody was there. What was it about that place that drove me to its parking lot? And then, I swear, I heard it...<span style="font-style: italic;">Thank you for the Abundance that is mine to share. Thank you for the Abundance that is mine to share. Thank you for the Abundance that is mind to share</span>. Three times. But what <span style="font-style: italic;">abundance?</span> I was broke...sort of...<br /><br />So I began to count my blessings. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I had gasoline</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">I had two jobs</span>. (Yes, two jobs, but I had no permanent place of residency. California banks would not allow me to open a checking account with a motel address, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">soooo</span>-oh-oh-oh, I had a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">plethora</span> of checks, but no way to cash them. Thus, I was broke...sort of...) I was a single parent, <span style="font-weight: bold;">and by a miracle,</span> my mother wanted to take <span style="font-weight: bold;">my healthy son</span>, then almost three years old, <span style="font-weight: bold;">with her </span>on a camping, Disneyland, etc... vacation just as my motel stay was about to end (due to no money). <span style="font-weight: bold;">I had three weeks to get my life back on track</span>. I spent several hours in that parking lot counting my blessings. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I had parents</span> that had they known, <span style="font-weight: bold;">would have helped</span>.<br /><br />After contemplation, I realized that I had broken with my common energy - that philosophy we live by whether conscious of it or not. My usual mindset of prosperity and giving thanks to God for it, had left me. I bought into the current climate of gloom and doom. Gasoline was available for a high price and long waits in line. Housing prices and rentals were almost impossible to reach. Unemployment was high. (<span style="font-weight: bold;">I had two jobs.</span>)<br /><br />Several hours later, I left the Church of Religious Science parking lot, to find my own piece of sand where I could contemplate and meditate. I asked for <span style="font-style: italic;">a welcome back</span>, guidance and money. I needed money - greenbacks, Georges, Lincolns, and Ben's. Upon returning to my car I did find a crisp, folded <span style="font-weight: bold;">dollar bill</span>. Enough money to buy <span style="font-weight: bold;">5 Snickers bars</span>. That evening when I reported to work (after dressing in the bathroom), <span style="font-weight: bold;">I ravaged through left over pot-luck that the early shift left behind</span>.<br /><br />Many years later, I find our country in similar circumstances. Unemployment is high, inflation is ugly, Government wants too much control, stocks are unstable, but I'm not going to play that game. It's not fun. Instead, I'm going to keep my energy positive and ready to <span style="font-weight: bold;">accept</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">The Abundance That is Mine to Share. Thank you, thank you, thank you.</span>ABUNDANCE 10 FOLDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797683161437693637noreply@blogger.com0