The Secret I Promised

 If you want to slap Grandmother Grey Wolf on the back 

       to help spit up a fur ball click on:   

                 

                                       http://www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com                                                     

Have you noticed that about everything you do is a Work in Process—life included?

And so has this blog been that, a work in process. Probably people wonder what in the hell I’m talking about in wishing on white horses. No matter. I’m still wishing, still believing in believing.

And I promised you "The secret to being rich beyond your wildest dreams.” That was before Peaches died and I got off the track. The eleven bags of subcutaneous fluid we did not use on Peaches will go to Sanctuary One, an animal rescue facility here in Oregon. It is the one that took our wonderful goats Orville and Wilbur. (I hear that Wilbur, the dark one, is in love.)

Psssst, About “The Secret.”

I trust you to use your common sense—remember that notebook where you wrote down your desires? Oh, you didn’t do it? Okay, but if you decide to do it, remember it’s for your eyes only. And if you ask for someone to be in your life, ask that it be for the highest good of both parties. You cannot ask for someone else, that is against spiritual law. You may ask, however, how that person fits into your life.

It is best to concentrate on your own life and let others take care of their own lives.

Yes, our subconscious mind connects us to the creative power of the Universe. It also connects us to every other being on the planet. It behooves us, therefore, to imagine our dreams as balloons filled with helium. When we share that dream, a little of the helium pssst leaks out.

Describe the kind of life you want.

Okay we have written out our desires. Remember not to say we want them, but write them in present tense. We have them.

After that we do not ignore our list, but we detach from it to let the Universe work out the details.

Remember that the good you are seeking is also seeking you.

The secret to success is to define the parameters of your desire, and then let the Forces of Creation do the work.

Grandmother Wolf here for Peaches

Sleeping while I'm driving

Now Bear is sleeping on me. 

Just saying "Hi. and you know what? I'm going to have something to say on www.dogblogbypeaches.blogspot.com, but first I have to get my bearings here on the other side. Right now I'm out in the forest playing with Bear."

Our little Peaches, our Pink Party Poodle for Peace aka Peachy Baby died in my arms last night.

She did good for a dog that had Addison's disease her entire life, and lived with us sticking her with a needle for the past year. Addisons is a condition, not really a disease. It's a fault in the adrenal glands.

This is the first time in 46 years that we have been dogless.

If you would like to read a new blog post, it would honor me if you would go to "How Wolves Change Rivers," Awesome.

http://www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com

Love from Joyce

I Shall Go To The Mountain

“I don’t think we could manifest a train here,” I said to my daughter as we sat by a window at Chevy’s Mexican Restaurant in Del Mar California. “There is no train track here.”

Not a minute later a huge flat-bed truck stopped on the road and waited for the traffic light to change. A tan canvas tarp covered the back of the truck and clearly, printed in huge letters, and waiting for us to read it, was the word, “TRANE.”

We almost blew iced tea out our noses.

This morning I had a similar experience. I showed up for a seminar—on the brochure it said July 2-5. This was July 2. “The seminar begins tomorrow,” they said.

Was I disappointed? No. A few months ago I had dreamed of having a get-a-way , a writing retreat. And there it was presented to me—a day alone, away from home. I had a private retreat in my Motel room.

Before driving back to my room I walked down the street of the quaint town of Mt. Shasta City, CA. where the mountain that is Mt Shasta hangs behind the city like a movie set backdrop, its size filling three-quarters of the visible sky. And this being July, its once white cloak of snow is now a shredded Tee-shirt. In town early morning vendors were setting up a street fair, and so after surveying their wares, I wandered into a shop where a book grabbed me.  I’m Rich Beyond  My Wildest Dreams “I am. I am. I am,” by Thomas L. Pauley and Penelope J. Pauley.

Now who could resist that title?

I bought the book, went back to my room and there sitting alone with the outside air 100 degrees, and my room cool as that mountain stream that runs off Mr. Shasta,  Pauley told me that once he was convinced that he could do anything he set his mind to do. “But why,” he asked, “have I gone bankrupt two times?”

Something was missing, he said. He believed he had the missing piece, and he was offering it to me. “First, he said, “get yourself a 79 cent notebook." I had a 19 cent one, so I was already 60 cents ahead.  "Now make sure you have privacy and time—at least an hour to complete the next chapter."

I had the privacy and the time.

Write at the top of your page

“All this by Divine Right, Divine Inspiration, Divine Intervention, Divine Timing and with Good for all concerned.”

Now write a list of what you want.

But don’t “Want” it. Own it. Write it as though you have it already. We don’t want our little universe genie to think we only want something. (He’s so literal he will focus on the want not the have.) We want him to know we are serious about having it.

Write on only one side of the page. (Leave room for growth.)

Skip a line between the items on your list. (Tell the Universe we believe in abundance.) Besides I have a sneaking suspicion Pauley wants us to add more later.

Now make your list.

Example:

1.     I have a beautiful new car or a like-new car.

2.     more

3.     more

At the end of my list my brain was sparking, and so let’s you and I take a break. I will get back to you…it won’t be long, I promise. There is plenty where this came from, and I haven’t even begun the seminar yet.

I know I am not telling you anything you don’t already know, but having it spelled out is such a kick, I had to do it.

To our mutual success.

Ta Da,

Joyce

Next installment: “The Secret Ingredient”

P.S. Ok, I'm cockoo. I know it, but I have begun another blog. It was formerly "Where Tigers Belch," now it is Grandmother Grey Wolf. It will focus on the spiritual side of life,  Come join the pack--we will dance with the wolves.

 

http:/www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com

A Poke

Stuff your eyes with wonder, he said, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

A restaurant here in Eugene has a sports bar attached, and it is reasonable to have a television there—except now they have televisions in the main high-end portion of the restaurant. My girl friends and I asked why they installed televisions. The server said the customers prefer them.

Whoa.

If you go to a Sports bar with the intention of watching a game, okay. Watch the game, cheer, eat, drink, whoop it up. All those things. Otherwise why have a television in a restaurant?

Isn’t going out to eat a festive occasion? Isn’t it a time for conversation, a little wine, a few jokes, something to laugh about, if only the thrill of being together? And just think, someone else prepared the food, and will wash the dishes.

Watch people in restaurants. They are often talking on the phone. To whom? There is a person sitting across from them. Older couples sit silent, munching. They look up occasionally, and to their surprise, there is someone sitting across from them.  Business people are working on papers, snarfing food in a rush to get back to a job they hate.

I love young couples sitting across the table from each other holding hands—older people too. They still believe life is something to get excited about.

In Europe dinner is an occasion. In Italy up-scale restaurants have two sittings per night. There you can stay as long as you want. People eat, drink, have fun, and don’t get fat.

Imagine.

Maybe I missed my calling. I ought to be a restaurant owner, set up an eatery in an alleyway between two buildings, with outside tables, a ceiling of multi-colored umbrellas , strings of white lights, and no televisions.

Little boy Darling has a restaurant idea—a ghost restaurant, with lots of dry ice bubbling, and images projected on the fog. And what would he serve? I wonder.

Joyce

“Life is one grand adventure, or it ought to be if we don’t fall asleep on each other.”—I think Ray Bradbury said this, I can’t find the source.

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