Sometimes, life happens. Then again, at all times, Life happens.
This blog post was drafted way back in early January 2013 but, reading it today, I decided to post it anyway, and just add an update. Here goes…
Did time end and kickstart again on December 21, 2012? Hard to say, although many have said much on the topic. Some events are at a scale too big or too small for we humans to intellectually grasp and interpret, and perhaps here, in these first few breaths of 2013, we might just surrender to that.
I’ve lived through so many pronouncements of end times (including being taught to hide under my desk on a pile of books in case of nuclear attack) that I don’t have a strong reaction to them anymore. Life goes on the day after. What I do pay attention to is more subtle, and I sense, more powerful. I notice and respond to what is shifting and emerging in me and the interconnected world I live in.
So, what was I up to from December 22 through January 1? Well, I actually thought I was giving myself a writing retreat. Housemates were traveling and paid work was done for the year so I delightedly anticipated a spacious, creative playdate with myself. Little did I know that the one line entry in my journal stating “Clean up office and desk” would be the central focus of my retreat.
Some might wonder what the big deal about this was. Why didn’t I spend a day, or even two, cleaning stuff out and then go on with the more creative aspects of my plans? I too wondered this over the first few days, but this opinion clearly came from the energetic aspect of me that is always about “doing”. (I firmly stand in the non-dualist perspective and I experience the complexity of Self.) My intention of having a personal retreat empowered me into just “being”, and that changed everything. While other people were holiday shopping, I was staging a very personal “Everything Must Go!” blowout.
From today’s perspective, some two months later, that de-cluttering made big space for what I want more of in life. And while the above blog post was sitting here unpublished, that’s where I was – out having new experiences. And…I committed to the big project of writing a book (and some articles and book chapters) this year and getting published.
One of the insights that came clear to me just yesterday is that I yearn for more expression not based on written words. So, I’m letting this written blog go quiet, at least for awhile, while I launch into creating and publishing content on my YouTube channel.
Be well and find your own ways of Making Up What Comes Next!
Nika
speckled with juicy redness. Eyes closed, my little tummy sated and my greedy desires quenched. At 5 years old, I rarely stopped myself from anything and had no definition of “enough.” Even though I learned before that on the walk home with my sisters, the skin on my stomach would develop a rash that burned and itched, I had ducked out of the house and followed them, avoiding my mother’s attempts at control. I wanted what I wanted – the sweet delight on my tongue, to have as much of pleasure as I could bear. I ate myself sick because the enjoyment of the journey was worth it. And because my family was so unhappy, I was attracted to anything that gave me joy.
time to engage deeply with my surroundings, to really be part of my home. Reflecting on that period, I can see how amped up and restless I was and how much it took (including dollars spent!) for me to really relax. Ever since 2002, I continue to craft a life where I’m home a lot even during my workday. I’ve released much of my restlessness. I don’t have distasteful work that I have to recover or be diverted from. My feeling purposeful is not based on seeing how busy I can be. I notice that as my life has been enriched through slowed down engagement with home and habitat, my craving for packaged entertainment has dwindled. My cottage comes with digital cable TV and the increased volume of channels seems to have even less worthwhile content. Masterpiece Theater, The Daily Show and a few sci-fi series are the only roadside attractions for me. I do love films. Netflix brings me a variety of independent and foreign perspectives on human life and relationship, and the movies I stream online don’t even require the expending of energy for postal delivery. (Although the Postal Service is gradually moving to alternative fuel vehicles – 
My money history twists and turns. My father was a factory worker and my mother stayed home, managing our expenses within the “house money” he gave her. I began earning at 14 years old, saved enough to leave home at high school graduation, and have worked ever since. I had an earning high (over six figures) for a few years that enabled me to support a nice life for myself and my son while he went to high school, and to save money for his college expenses. I have carried debts of varying sizes for several decades which somehow gives me an excellent credit rating. But I truthfully have never liked money. I dream of an economic reality where our value is realized and our needs are provided. Perhaps that is too utopian to actualize and can only be experienced in Star Trek.
