Wednesday

 

When I say I want the magic back, I mean the little things that, if we are aware, we see almost daily.

 

This morning, I sat in the shower thinking of such things. Once while driving west in Eugene, Oregon, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a rainbow brilliantly displayed in the rain splattered eastern sky. In front of that rainbow, like the movie intro of E.T. riding his bike in front of the moon, a small flock of white birds flew past, illuminated by the setting sun.

 

It was so exquisite I wanted to turn around, but I managed to tear my eyes away from the scene and continue down the road.  

 

I look into the sky and see a 250-ton piece of metal —a heavier-than-air vehicle —carrying I don't know how many people, pushed through the air by jet engines the size of whisky barrels.

 

 Impossible.

 

Once daughter dear and I sat in a booth by a window at a beloved Mexican Restaurant in Rancho Santa Fe, California. As we joyfully dipped our chips in guacamole, we lightly discussed whether it was possible to manifest. "Well,' I said," we couldn't manifest a train here for there are no tracks."

 

Not a minute later, a large semi—one of those trucks whose who’s back trailer is covered by a tightly stretched tarp, stopped at a stop light outside our window.

 

Printed on the tarp was one word: "Trane."  (A technology company.)

 

We laughed, and often remind ourselves that miracles happen, and that the Universe likes to play tricks.

 

I sometimes lose the lightness and I want it back.

 

I missed Tuesday's blog yesterday, too, so I am writing to you today. I did read something profound yesterday, though. It was from Martha Beck:

 

"The simultaneous destruction and creation of an individual can be compared to the moment of awakening. This isn't just about learning something new; it's about a fundamental, radical shift in human consciousness.

 

"Awakening is the transformation of that same caterpillar into an altogether different creature—one that can fly."—Martha Beck.

 

You have heard that the caterpillar's metamorphosis into a butterfly isn't a simple change; it's a complete breakdown. That poor caterpillar liquefies, but what emerges is a gorgeous butterfly.

 

 I have read that if you are watching the butterfly struggle to emerge from its chrysalis and feel inclined to help, don't. It kills the butterfly. The butterfly must go through the struggle—like us being born—it rests for a few moments, allowing its wings to dry, and then it soars.

 

"When a human being awakens," to quote Beck," the 'caterpillar' we leave behind is the part that fears, suffers, attacks others, grabs for power, wealth, and status, and lives in terror of its own destruction. 

 

"The 'butterfly' we become is at peace with both life and death, confident that the universe will provide for us, open to brilliant creative ideas that may pull us out of the mess we've created."

 

Thanks, Martha.

"Obi-Wan, I Need Your Help."

 

"The curiosity and connection that create the Eureka effect rely on parts of the brain that don't feel fear."—Martha Beck.

 

 

Really?

 

I thought fear was all-pervasive. Yet, as I think about it, fear comes from our primitive brain stem, the part that's into survival.

 

Martha is right; it doesn't come from the creative side. 

 

That must be why we feel happy when we are into some creative endeavor or when faced with a problem whose solution has stumped us, if we let it sit a while, Eureka, "Out of the blue," comes the answer.

 

I know, however, that while the right side of our brains is creative, and it's so much fun to be in that space, I did not know it was fearless. The other side must creep in.

 

I've been hearing more and more that scientists are trying to pinpoint where consciousness lies and, so far, haven't been able to do it. They are pretty sure it doesn't reside in the brain as we have been led to believe. 

 

Don't we think with our brains? Doesn't it feel like it is coming from our heads? Yes, but what about those moments of transcendence where something comes to us from out of that blue space?

 

The first time l experienced an out-of-the-blue thought where I got the message that we can KNOW as a teenager.

 

This is silly, a trivial little thing, but it impacted me.

 

I had taken a knit dress to the cleaners, and when I picked it up, it was wrapped in brown paper like a package. I absolutely knew the belt wasn't in that package. But I didn't want to tell them, thus committing to such boldness, so I went to the car, opened the package, verified that the belt wasn't there, returned to the shop, and told them the belt was missing. They found it and gave it to me.

 

I have mentioned I am writing a memoir. This memoir could also fit into the Memoir/autobiography/travel/adventure/special interest categories. Every time I say I'm writing a memoir, I sound arrogant. Then I remind myself I do not know anyone better than I know myself.

 

Perhaps people will want to read it; perhaps they won't. Perhaps it will inspire others to write their memoir; maybe it won't. Either way, come hell or high water, I'm doing it. I mentioned I wrote 50,000 words in 30 days, but that doesn't mean it is complete; it just means I got words on the page, and now I am faced with a mess. 

 

Natalie Goldberg (Old Friend from Far Away), my inspiration, says you can write many memoirs in your life; every time you write one, you will be at a different place. And don't write about dreary stuff; you can write about pain, for that's a part of life, but generally, write about what takes your breath away.

 

Yesterday I was writing about Spankings, and I made this statement: 

 

"I don't know why it is embarrassing to be spanked like it is embarrassing to be bullied, molested, or unloved."

 

The moment I wrote the above sentence, I got the answer. 

 

When Joseph McClendon III talked about sleeping in a box in Lancaster, California, after somebody tried to kill him because of the color of his skin, he thought, "If someone would do that to me, there must be something wrong with me."

 

That's it. 

 

As McClendon erroneously thought there was something wrong with him, kids probably think there is something wrong with them and that they deserve punishment.

 

There was nothing wrong with McClendon, as there is nothing wrong with kids who get hit for some infraction. They are kids, remember?

 

I wonder how much punishment contributes to our culture's prevailing "I'm not good enough" syndrome. I'm not good enough to be loved. I'm not good enough to find a mate. I'm not good enough to write a good book, a play, a symphony, paint a picture or start a business. 

 

"I've been bad and deserve to be hit. I am a girl, a less desirable weaker sex, and I must keep my mouth shut. Boys will be boys, you know." 

 

Auugh.

 

That's the biggest Bullshit I have ever heard. 

 

I told you I was a Badass in training.

 

I will ask for pre-sales for the book PAINTING A LIFE from a Badass in Training by Jewell D. That way, I can hit the ground running when the book is launched. Getting sales right away is the best way to get a higher rating on Google.

 

"Obi-Wan, I need your help."

 

You can tell me you're willing to join my pre-sales campaign if you want to. Pre-sales are only charged once a book is launched.

 

So, nobody will be charged if it never gets off the launching pad.

 

Over and out, have fun, be creative, do a little dance.