Claiming Your Power

 

How about "claiming your power "instead of seeing a situation as hopeless?

 

And then as I saw control all over the place and stumbled right into a quote from Terry Cole-Whittiker, (The Inner Path From Where You Are to Where You Want to Be, 1987) and fell on my face.

 

 "The chance that we all have is the chance of a lifetime to step out of the world as it is and create the New World as we would have it be."

 

I don’t know how that will happen, or how to do it, but I see that it will. We believed that world transformation would come from the top down—from world leaders, religious figures, poets, philosophers, scientists, and songwriters. 

 

Now we see that it will come from the bottom up.

 

We are learning that change comes from within, from the people, like the many who started grassroots movements. Who began screaming about the air quality? Not the industries. Who wanted organic food? Not the chemical producers. Who wanted to save the whales? Not the whalers or the perfume industry. Who is concerned about global warming? Not the highest of officials but other individuals in the sciences, arts, and human welfare who took it upon themselves to bring that attention to the masses. And who taught people about chimpanzees' intelligence and their social structure? One person, a little secretary named Jane Goodall. And then two bicycle makers from Kity Hawk, South Carolina, showed that man could not only fly, he could apply a motor to it.

 

What about the people who rallied behind John F. Kennedy when he said, “We will send a man to the moon and bring him back alive, by the end of a decade?”

 

Scientists, inventors, mathematicians, and engineers, a small group of people rallied behind –yes, a leader who had a vision and motivated people, but they were little bitty bunch. They reached down into the depths of their souls, and made it happen. (Of course they had a little competition and fear whipping them into shape.)

 

It will be the people who get it. We don’t need to be forgiven for our sins, when we can’t even remember ever having one. Do you think a God would put a beautiful person on a beautiful planet then tell them that life was a veil of tears and that they were sinners? It defies all logic. We have a body, but were made to be ashamed of having one. It defies all logic.

 

When Jesus called out for the cross, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” He understood. He came here to remove the curse. The curse was the curse of a vengeful god in which all of mankind believed. Jesus said he came to put away the law, but people didn’t get it. When they believed in a vengeful god it gave them permission to be vengeful.  When they believed that disobeying a ridiculous command like do not eat of that tree, and they did, it was a reason to curse all mankind, babies, women to a lifetime of work and worry. It is beyond all that is holy.

 

No, change will come from the folks. The god of the old testament is not the God we are learning about today, one in which we are all a part.

 

 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

—Margaret Mead

 

 

”The notion that we are products of our environment is our greatest sin; we are products of our choices.”—Mead again.

 

 

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Write your own memoir, I dare you. I double dare you.

"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.

 

 

Lesson of The Day

 The more you gripe, the worse it gets.

A simple lunch, right? A peanut butter and cucumber sandwich with a dill pickle. Except it was a new jar of pickles, and as I pulled the plastic strip—with pliers—to open the jar, I complained that it would be nice to fix something that wasn’t plasticized shut. Okay, the plastic is off, then I couldn’t open the lid, so I pounded on it with the handle of a knife, and the lid spun off and spilled pickle juice on the counter, so I had to wipe that up.

A simple daytime task but a profound lesson.

Did your mom make jelly and seal the glass jar with paraffin? Sometimes that got pushed down in the jelly, so I guess times aren’t that much different, except whose mom makes jelly?

Not this mom; I thank my lucky stars I don t have to.

I spoke before that I was writing a memoir. I have to keep saying that so I get over being embarrassed to say I’m writing a memoir. Yes, a memoir, you know, those moments that take our breath away? Anyway, I wrote my goal of 50,000 words while racing the pink dogwood flowers, trying to meet the word count the writing gurus say is essential. I did it by cheating a little and using the tree in the backyard that I could see out my window and the one in the front yard that held tight to its flowers until I reached my goal. Now who says there aren’t miracles?

Now I am facing all those words I thought essential to get onto a page. I wanted to see if I could do it, even if it stinks; I have the illustrious accomplishment of winning a race with a flower.

Except I know it threw the race.

How’s your day been?