Up Periscope follow-up

In the blog post LMAO Up Periscope I left you watching the CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM clip on the car periscope. If you haven't read it already, read it now here; I'll wait...

Hmmmm.. hmmm....hmmmmm...

Ah, welcome back! I was about to continue explaining how this dreaming/waking life stuff interconnect until I got rudely interrupted by a bout of entusiasmo espanole; my apologies.

To summarize:

Rod and I, while driving on our first day of a 11 day trip, come up with the brilliant invention - the car periscope. 

9 days later I record an apparently inconsequential dream but for the fact that Larry David & his manager Jeff appears. 

I become obsessed with trying to remember the title of the TV show in which they appear and am infected with a nasty case of ear worm as I recall its incredibly perky, catchy and viral theme song. 

I have a feeling that this will lead to something though I don't know what. 

2 days after this, while holed up in a Marriott Hotel in Burlington VT waiting out hurricane Irene (now downgraded to a tropical storm) we are forced to watch satellite TV because the movie rental channel is on the fritz and 2 of our choices have been rejected. 

Rod watches a program that I'm not interested in, TRUE BLOOD so I read THE HELP. 

Program over,  Rod channel surfs and I hear the theme song to CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. 

A compulsion comes over me; we must watch the program. 

We've stumbled upon an episode about...THE CAR PERISCOPE.

Being in this synchronic experience as it unfolded was truly delightful. I was soooo uncontrollably thrilled that Rod wanted me to CURB MY ENTHUSIASM which I found near to impossible.

On one hand this demonstrates for me how thin the veil is between the realities of sleep dreams, waking life and imagination/creativity. It allows me to think that anything is possible; I mean what were the odds that we'd invent something that someone else had made a TV episode about (no, neither of us had seen the episode before). Even if we had, we were supposed to be in Lake Placid that evening and, if things had played out as planned we wouldn't have spent our first night watching TV, that's for sure.

If we look at the function of the car periscope, we see that it allows the navigator to see ahead and smoothly negotiate the driver around obstacles in order to get where they want to go. On another level, Rod and my car periscope stream of consciousness episode seemed to hint what was to come, that we would find ourselves in a situation where we would need to see ahead in order to make decisions as to how to proceed. In retrospect we can see many different things that the periscope was a metaphor for: the blackberry and other media we consulted in order to discern when to leave the cottage; the townspeople, highway patrolman, shopkeeper and information desk person who (also in the role of THE HELP) gave us warnings of road blocks and washed out roads ahead and suggested alternative routes for us to safely proceed.

If I were to look at the whole experience as I've recounted as one dream, I would ask myself, "Does this feel like anything in my waking life now?" It resonates with the fact that I'm adjusting to new terrain and pathways forming in my life in the aftermath of Mom's passing. I'm trying to see "down the road". I'm also looking ahead to when Rod retires. Like many other wives I'm freaked out at the prospect, feeling a bit emotionally spun and stormy (= hurricane) trying to find direction (in my role as navigator) that works for both of us as we drive down the road together. At this time as the sand shifts beneath my feet, obstacles seem insurmountable and I wish I had a life periscope that would help me negotiate my "stormy weather".

Buenas Noches Mis Amigos

I made the 30 minute bike trek into downtown Oakville yesterday to meet 2 "council" friends for brekkie. We ate at Sunnyside Diner which, many moons ago, was once Anne's Cottage Shop, a restaurant where I did the prerequisite postgrad waitressing gig of every aspiring artist whose ever gotten their B. A. in Fine Art.

Jan and I left Flo in a store looking for a scarf and walked down the road a bit before going our separate ways. Before splitting Janet mentioned that she had signed up to take Spanish; something that I have been wanting to do for years. I have maintained my poor skill level in the language and lack of advancement through sporadic bursts of self-taught efforts filled with: reading articles in Spanish, listening to TV programs, renting movies and playing them with Spanish subtitles ON or making use of the dubbed version.

I was excited when I heard that the lessons are: reasonably priced, located nearby and scheduled at a time that fits nicely into my week. Yes, I was very excited until I heard where they are taking place; at the Seniours' Centre. AAAACCCCCCKKKK, mentally I was running, not walking, away screaming, "I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE A SENIOUR."

Janet, sensitive soul that she is, could see the panic in my eyes. "The centre is for anyone 50 and older. Not everyone is 90. You'd be a "young" seniour."

Too late! My mind had already propelled me forward to a time in which I was trapped in a room full of memory challenged individuals who couldn't remember what was said 5 minutes ago in English much less in another language; and this was my Spanish class. " Mmmm, I'll have to think about it," was my non-committal response before we parted.

Before tackling the bike ride back, I stopped in at Starbucks to take a pee. It's one place I can slip into and out without making a purchase guilt-free as I'm virtually a coffee imbibing "regular" there.

Business done, I knelt down to unlock my bike. And, as I did so, the question/consideration briefly breezed through my mind like a whisper in the wind, I wonder if I should take the course at the Seniours' Centre? And, at that very moment a family walked by speaking SPANISH.

The universe has spoken.

So, I'm now signed up to take Spanish at the Seniours' Centre. Wish me buena suerte!

LMAO Up Periscope!

THURS AUG 18TH - Rod and I are heading out on our trip to the townships, Vermont and Lake Placid. We're chatting about the next car that I should get when ALF W bites the dust. It's weird I know but I find myself almost whispering in ALF's presence, anyway...

The 403 was, as usual, busy that morning and from the low laying vantage point that ALF (a Ford Escort) provides, our range of vision was limited. How wonderful it would be to be sitting higher I commented. I have always loved trucks, in fact our Ford F150 had taken us on many a fantastic road trip and served the double duty of providing us with accommodation during inclement weather on those days we were either too tired or it was too wet to set up camp. Seen behind the wheel of the truck no one would guess that I'm a mere 4'10" as the clearance over the hood and steering wheel is great enough for me to appear as the confident driver that I am, whereas I sit so low in ALF that drivers behind me think the car's driving itself. To add further insult I appear to be a "low and slow" (meek little old driver)  since I got 2 speeding tickets in quick succession of each other a few years back I've been forced to observe the speed limit or risk a more hefty fine for the next offence (I like to drive fast and am a fiercely competitive go cart driver). To sit up higher or even view the traffic ahead from a better vantage point would feel empowering.

Somehow as we're discussing the topic, Rod and I slip into stream of consciousness conversation and we invent the CAR PERISCOPE. How great would it be to have a periscope in the car that would enable you to see what's going on ahead. You'd be able to pick and choose your course knowing what's coming up. How cool would that would be! I got pretty darn enthusiastic about the idea as I'm always looking to come up with an invention that would land me a bundle, something simple - like velcro, post-it notes or even that damn stupid SNUGGIE. I mean how simple can you get. The kid made a bundle just because he was a couch potato who's arms got cold when he went to reach for his beer and chips, anyway...

FRI AUG 26 - We're in Hindesburg VT at a cottage on Iroquois Lake and I record a dream in which Larry David and Jeff (his agent on his TV show) make an appearance. Upon waking and throughout the rest of the day, I find myself obsessed with the name of the show in which they star but can't for the life of me remember what it is. All day I'm afflicted with an ear worm as its theme song runs over and over in my head. I don't have my laptop with me and though Rod has his Blackberry, I don't want to resort to asking him to solve the puzzle. For some reason this obsession seems important; as if I'm supposed to figure it out myself. I think maybe I'll stumble upon the title in the paper, or on TV or hear it on the radio which seems likely as hurricane Irene is threatening to come our way and we're monitoring the situation every few hours to determine what to do next.

SAT AUG 27 - I finally cave and ask Rod if he knows the title. He says he doesn't. I don't believe him; think he's taking delight in prolonging my agony and we leave it at that. Later, while eating dinner in AMERICAN FLATBREAD restaurant in Burlington VT (great pizza and microbrewery - try the blueberry beer) he recalls that it's called CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. Riddle solved. Ear worm vanquished. Relief ensues!

SUN AUG 28 - We leave the cottage on schedule as planned. In the beginning of a tropical storm (Hurricane Irene has been downgraded) - not planned. We are stranded in Burlington as no ferries are running across Lake Champlain. We take the first place we can which is the MARRIOTT in Burlington and spend the day reading in the lounge (My book of choice is THE HELP which I highly recommend and Rod's is VAGABONDING - An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-term World Travel which he finds so-so), nursing a glass of Malbec wine while occasionally glancing up at the big screen TV permanently set on the weather channel and its "on the spot" weather guy standing on the boardwalk somewhere in New York State monitoring the progress of a lifeguard station getting pummelled by the waves.

Later that night, holed up in our room, we try, unsuccessfully, to rent a movie. The weather has messed with the signals. All that is left is satellite TV. Rod settles in to TRUE BLOOD which I can't make head or tail of. I'm driven deeper into my book for its duration. Next thing I know the theme song for CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM creeps into my consciousness. I corral Rod's channel surfing and get him to settle onto the show which is just starting. After my obsession with it I figure we might as well watch. We sit back and here's the episode that came up.

No word of a lie!!!

A tale of 2 Lilac Bushes

This lovely lilac clipping doesn't look like much, but it is just what I was longing for on Thursday as I was walking, in downtown Oakville, past someone's lush, overflowing, deliciously fragrant lilac bush. But, because the blossoms were on private property all I could do was bury my nose in the clumps of flowers overhanging the wrought iron fence and commit their scent to memory so that I might indulge in it throughout the day.

Later that night I took part in a Shamanic Journeying Circle in a co-op community centre located in a funky downtown Toronto neighbourhood. All in all there were about 21 of us ranging from very experienced to relative newbies. It was my first time journeying with this lovely group of gentle people.

As tradition has it, an altar is set up in the centre of the circle where participants may place objects of power, offerings, photographs, etc to be imbued with the collective intentions of the journeys and the vibrations of the drum, rattle, song and story.

As people entered,  the altar took form. One of the last items to be placed was a bouquet of lilac blossoms freshly picked and offered to us all at the completion of the evening's work. So, my desire for a small sprig to take home was satisfied. Not only that but, I had a paper cup left over from my coffee in which to carry it securely in my car on the trip home to Burlington.

Its scent has graced our living room since then and every time I get a whiff I'm reminded that the universe does indeed support us.

The "lilac" lady also offered up some Lindt chocolates (the little individually wrapped balls of truffles - my faves) but I can't really pronounce that a synchronic happening as I'm pretty much always thinking of chocolate. It was, however, a treat that I certainly didn't turn down.

A very happy drive home was had that night as I savoured the dark chocolate melting in my mouth, the lilac sprig's scent filling my nostrils and the music of the drum, the rattle, song and stories sounding in my brain and vibrating in my cells.

Checked out at the Cash Register

I have been bouncing between the book FATE AND DESTINY - The Two Agreements of the Soul by Michael Meade and THE ROBERT MOSS BLOG over the past while. I'm reading the paperback, which I keep at home. Moss' blog is on my Kindle which I keep in my purse. I dip into its wisdom at a local cafes after I've emerged from beneath the basement stairs and migrated there so that I might mingle with other house-bound workers, also connected to their wireless devices, in our sorry attempt to participate in the "outside world". Since both the book and the blog deal with aspects of the soul and spirit, jumping between them further informs and enriches my understanding of the subject matter, influences my dreams and provides tremendous synchronic happenings to boot.

As I mentioned in the previous blog entry, when you are experiencing a dream drought, observing synchronicities that appear throughout one's day can be a great source of inspiration and amusement. Developing this kind of awareness also primes one to be motivated towards, and receptive to, dream recall and moments of intuition.

Yesterday, Sunday May 22nd (the day before Victoria Day) at noon, I (along with every other Burlington resident, it seemed), was maneuvering my way through the obstacle course that grocery store isles become the day before a majour holiday. But, I'm not bothered; in fact I can proudly announce that I have a method which leaves me cool and calm; a model of considerate efficiency. I leave my cart, out of the way of traffic, at the beginning of the isle, I float between carts battling for right of way and weave through traffic jams collecting my goodies along the way. I deposit them upon my return and move to the next isle.

All went without a hitch until at a crucial moment before lining up at the cash when I remembered one more item. I parked my cart at what was an unobtrusive spot when I left it but upon my return, only moments later, had developed into a majour traffic hazard. People were pushing "my stuff" out of the way. I had become, like everyone I'd judged, inconsiderate and as I quickly rushed in to drag my cart out of the way to make amends, I gashed my left forefinger on a wayward piece of wire poking out from the body of the cart.

As I unloaded my stuff onto the conveyer belt, blood gushed out of my finger. Periodically I sucked on it vampire-like to stay the flow, self-conscioiusly imagining blood dripping down the corners of my mouth and my incisors growing longer all the while. The line behind me was forming longer and longer as I struggled.

"Do you have a band aid?" I enquired, recalling my days behind the cash and knowing this was a probability.

"Nope," she answered as my massive pile of groceries grew even higher as, between sips, I stuffed items into assorted bags and bins.

Finally she offered, "I do have some paper towels. And I can wrap this around it." She proudly flashed a tape used to mark large unbaggable purchases as paid and then proceeded to tend to my wound. "Gosh, this reminds me of when I volunteered for a kid's hospital. There you go."

I half-listened, absorbed in my task of getting through the check out as quickly as possible. Only as I made my way out to the parking lot and glanced down at my finger did I appreciate the fact that it was wrapped in the paper towel, secured by a tape decorated with a heart covering my boo boo. Many years ago I was a bored, overworked cashier longing for some break in the routine monotony that this work can be and a connection to the divine spark that resides within us all.

click on image to enlarge
© Nance Thacker 1985

I rewarded myself with a stop-over at the local Starbuck's, and went to the next blogpost where I was to resume in Moss' blog. I've been reading his entries from the beginning and what appeared was SMELL THE SYNCHRONIZING... about Moss' experience at the check out. To appreciate how this whole synchronicity thing works and the implications it has, read the comment stream that follows and especially the one by Moss relating the story of the grumpy cashier who, like me, seemed to be "under her own personal black cloud of misery" as he so succinctly puts it.

Dream drought

On those mornings when my dreams evade me, slipping deeper into the shadows as I greet daylight, it feels as if I've taken off a coat and left it behind somewhere. It's not an uncomfortable feeling, it's just that I'm aware that something is missing.

After all these years of dream work I've come to expect dream droughts as part of a natural cycle of life. Before menopause my dreams would become exceptionally sensory and prolific starting around ovulation through to the beginning of my flow. Menopausal now, I experience a more continuous state of dream recall with periods of abundance around the full and new moon times. I've heard that menopausal women have greater access to states of dreaming and intuition, during "waking" states; that we have a foot in each world - those being the daily/visible realm and the otherworld/unseen realms of spirit and soul.

Anyway, I don't stress over missing my dreams, but instead use those days to look for "life rhymes" as Robert Moss calls them. To my mind, these are magical, playful, synchronicities that the universe lays before me to remind me that life is, after all, but a dream and I am the dreamer. They abound in: conversations, nature, a chance meeting, a paragraph on a page picked at random or a sign (literally) as happened this morning.

As we began our walk today, I mentioned to Candy, "I've got to sign up for the Moss dream workshop at the Omega Institute for October (I've not studied with him in person yet, though I've read his books, used his method, studied with a student of his and taken part in his online Dream Forum). It's been difficult to find a venue nearby; this is the closest I could get. I'm sure it'll be pretty popular so I should do it soon."  And, at that moment as we crossed the street and stepped up from the curb I looked up to see OMEGA splashed across a sign for a hair salon. We had been talking about this before we set out to the street, and had set out our route before leaving the house this morning, so it wasn't a case of subliminal suggestion. It was more like the universe giving me a thumb's up.

Other synchronicities have been popping up during the dream drought:
I celebrated a birthday recently and decided not to have a birthday cake; it didn't seem important. But, the next day I began to have some second thoughts about it.
"It's tradition."
"But I'm not a terribly traditional person."
"It may be bad luck not to have a birthday cake."
"Ah, but that's just a belief that enforces traditional practices. I'm not buying it, besides it's rather childish."
So, I told Rod that there'd be no birthday cake which left him rather disappointed about the cake and me surprisingly, missing not the cake but the ritual of blowing out the candle; not a bunch but of candles, just one.

That very night I opened the book, FATE AND DESTINY to page 27 where I'd left off. As I read down the page I was surprised to find the last paragraph discussing birthday celebrations and that one candle was originally traditionally used. "The single flame symbolized the inner spirit and natural, shining genius that enters the world at the birth of each child." The candle symbolizes the inner flame that burns at the centre of the soul and lights ones path. When you blow out the candle you not only make a wish but...

NEWS FLASH THE PHONE JUST RANG, I'M NOW A GREAT AUNT.
YEA!

...also consider "what the candle of each life burns for. If the candle was blown out it was in order that the rising smoke could carry prayers for the spirit of the celebrant to the heavens above."

cartoon © Nance Thacker 1984

WAIT A MINUTE, SINCE I'M WRITING ABOUT CANDLES AND BIRTHDAY WISHES IT SEEMS ONLY APPROPRIATE THAT I LIGHT A CANDLE , MAKE A WISH AND BLOW IT OUT TO WELCOME BABY GIRL MESSENGER-CARRIERE TO THIS REALM AND GIVE THANKS...

Done.

I'm back now.

Anyway, the next night we bought a slice of cake for me and a custardy dessert for Rod. He presented me with my one-candle-lit cake and as I blew out the fame, sending my prayer for this year out to the heavens, my birthday celebration felt complete. 

I was going to write about more coincidences but actually, none can top the birth announcement happening just as I'm writing about birthday celebration traditions.

Sometimes our dream droughts happen because something magical is occurring right here before our waking eyes. I think you now can catch my drift about how wondrous this stuff/life is; you just have to catch the moments when they arise. Also, I need to sign up for the workshop...

NOTE: I wrote this on Wednesday May 11th but couldn't post it til now cus I was waiting for official announcement from Amaya Rose's parents on FB and then BLOGGER was down for a while. The posting date that shows up is when I finally got it on the site.

...in a good way

Self-portrait Chillin' May 2010

Since the weird virus I had a few weeks back I feel like I've had a lobotomy...but, in a good way. Let me explain.

When I was a fledgling yoga teacher my mentors were, for the most part, middle aged women verging on menopause with households, husbands, children and ageing parents to manage. Aside from teaching yoga, participating in workshops on yoga and being part of a yoga community some of them also worked part-time at "real" jobs (teaching yoga was viewed as a form of karma yoga — selfless service and as such paid a pittance).

In comparison, during the 10 years (from my mid 20's to mid 30's) that I was with them, my life was yoga focused, simple and uncomplicated. Single, with a healthy, happy, family back in Ontario, my time was my own.

Every week we attended a class called Beyond Hatha Yoga offered at Yoga Centre Victoria's digs in the local YMWCA. Here we'd explore the works of Swami Radha through self-study, writing, writing and more writing, then discuss our responses to such questions as: what is an aspirant, who am I, what is the purpose of my life, etc.

In that class, on our yoga mats and in meditation sessions, realizations would rise up for a few, brief, shining moments. But, when my mentors returned to daily life, so easily and profoundly was their equanimity shattered that a common complaint was, "I thought yoga was supposed to make you calm!"

This comment has been directed at me by council members in the last few years.

I have informed them that, contrary to popular belief, people who are drawn to yoga, more often than not, are not naturally calm individuals. Yoga reveals what is — both the sublime and the ridiculous which is a no sweat experience for me on the mat or within the confines of a yoga studio, retreat or workshop where all have the same intention and speak the same language.

The challenge is to reside calmly while participating in life as the veils of illusion are peeled away. As we witness the reality of our lives, realize the consequences of our choices, the character of our loved ones and ourselves are exposed (in an often less than flattering light) it's difficult not to loose it, not to re-act unfavourably with anger, sorrow, frustration and all the other unpleasant moods that can befall us.

With the aftermath of "weird virus" my thoughts have been quite clear and my emotions easily manageable; as if someone has altered my sense of time. Urgency is gone, evaporated...poof... and, since time pressure is at the root of much of my anxiety, my emotional state is levelling. I am still aware of things that tick me off, that hasn't changed, it's just that they don't seem to break through to an intolerable level because they don't seem to stick to me. For the time being my hackles are down and my wei chi (defensive chi) is impermeable to negativity. In essence, I have become teflon...in a good way.

Today I'm bearing witness to the contrast between the "speed" of the Tasmanian devilish flurry that had engulfed me before the weird virus vs its aftermath, this refreshed state of calm. It seems totally unreal, incomprehensible that:

a) I could have gotten myself into such a state in the first place

b) I couldn't see it coming or building up

and

c) I could only recognize its intensity in hindsight

I know it's probably only a matter of time until I get "spun" and scattered again, but for the moment I am enjoying being in the cool, calm and collected zone and am doing all I can to identify supporting behaviours that are coming so naturally and effortlessly to me now.

I have been working with a weight management (aka weight balancing) client and one of the 4 principles of eating — to eat mindfully without distraction — she finds most challenging considering her hectic lifestyle. As an observer, it seems a simple matter of perspective and prioritizing. I don't ask clients to do anything that I can't do so I too have been eating at least one meal a day mindfully which means no reading, watching TV, talking etc.; just eat.

The idea is simple, as you chew each bite of food 20 times put down your utensils and enjoy the taste, texture, sight and smell of the food, and eating becomes a form of meditation. But, as I eat I catch myself on the verge of engaging in scattering behaviours:

• Without thought, a nervous twitch reflex prompts me to reach to pick up a magazine, the newspaper or glance at the notes on the side of a cereal box (that's how addicted I am to reading and keeping an internal voice going on).
• My mind travels backwards and forwards in time like a fidgety child unable to stay in one place trying to get me to come along.
• I have to fight the compulsion to multi-task, to do something as I'm eating in order to "save time" but, I don't know what I'm "saving" it for. Aside from breathing, what could be more important than fuelling the body; my body?
• Emotions generate stories that begin to spin themselves in my mind; at other times stories generate emotions all of which threaten to crowd out the senses that are keep me anchored in the present.

Happily, I find mindful eating, intended to bring awareness to a feeling of fullness and satisfaction, is slowing me down, shifting my perspective and increasing my mindfulness during daily activities in a pragmatic way. None of my other meditation practices has done this.

This seems a horrible thing for a yoga teacher to admit, but here it goes. I am becoming aware of what my relaxed rhythm feels like. That there is such a thing seems news to me, it's been that long since I last was in touch with it.

As I bring myself back to just eating, I now notice how violent my "speedy" actions feel; how violent I feel when I violate my relaxed rhythm. When I have the inkling that something else needs to be done at that very moment I'm engaged in eating mindfully it is felt an insult; unbelievable!

How long have I been doing this and in how many different ways?

Fear is underneath it all generating my speediness. Fear that:

• I won't be able to keep up (with whom or what seems irrelevant)
• "it" (whatever it is) won't get done in "due" time (whenever that is)
• if I don't do it right now I will forget it (but the thought inevitably recurs and with it a growing sense of urgency)

To quell the rush of things that increase my sense of urgency I'm setting priorities - 3 per day. 3 things that I feel need to be done come to the front of the line, anything else I elect to deal with is a bonus and everything else can come back another day.

And, for the moment the Tasmanian devil in me is gone. Please, let me know when you see her again. To break the spell, the phrase is, "I thought yoga was supposed to make you calm!"

____________________________________________

Synchronic happening observed - as I was in the middle of writing this the other night (Sun May 30th - ignore the time stamp on this post as I worked on it over a few days, finally posting it on Tuesday June 1st) I took a break and came upon a TV show in which Stephen Hawking was talking about Time Travel and he states these facts:

• "mass slows down time"
• Time differs in different areas of the earth i.e. time moves slower nearer the pyramids.

This got me wondering. When I feel grounded I feel more present, solid, centred as if my molecules are more collected; my sense of time slows. So, when I feel scattered and spun are my molecules dispersed a little more randomly into the universe making time speed ahead and leaving me attempting to "collect" myself while seemingly forever trying to catch up? Just wondering.

The ball is cast

Synchronicity (I know it is more accurately referred to as coincidence but I use the word synchronicity because it sounds more fun and magical) at its finest:

For this entry blame:

• Scott Adams of Dilbert
• and Lynden Blades who hosts a website offering free juggling lessons
• Rod Kimball of the Flying Kamarazov Brothers

I'll take you back to how it all started. It was a dark and stormy night...no, actually it was a sunny, Monday morning; just last week in fact.

FIRST EVENT - the unexceptionable beginning

While walking with Glyn and Jack down to the beach I began to juggle, and, since Jack knows how to juggle as well, we tried and failed miserably to juggle the 3 balls between us as we walked, so we changed the game. The "juggler" would walk while juggling until they either dropped the balls or lost control in a way that made them loose their rhythm (running after the balls not allowed) after which the balls would be passed off to the other person.

This got me talking about the Flying Kamarazov Brothers who I'd seen over 20 years ago in a venue in Toronto.

Oddly enough there was, at that same time, an informally formed group of juggling animators at Sheridan College during my student animator days and I'd hoped to drop in some time and join the fun. This is what the juggling clubs — now in the possesion of destined juggler extraordinaire Latisha LaFlamme - were intended for. But, the course took all my waking and sleeping hours to such an extent that my family thought I still lived out west and Rod began wondering who belonged to the pink toothbrush littering his bathroom counter top.

SECOND EVENT - the seed is sown

Tuesday night I read Scott Adams blog entry COINCIDENCE which got me thinking wow I really haven't had any incidences in a long while.

THIRD EVENT - a little aside, but still relevant

Next, my juggling balls are well worn, I did a lousy job of re-taping them and they are in need of re-taping or at least repair. So the on Wednesday night I googled how to make your own juggling balls and perused a number of different sites, but the one that got my attention was that of Lynden Blades when he ended his lesson with the request to, "Help me teach as many people around the world, for free, to juggle and spread the happiness around."

To my mind, this is an honourable goal that, just that night before surfing the net, I'd begun considering doing myself. I'm not that great a juggler so go to his site here and my contribution to spreading world domination by jugglers is complete.

Juggling is a happy pursuit. Yes, it can be frustrating but no one is holding a gun to your head commanding you to, "Juggle damn you or I'll shoot you in the foot." It's always, "Dance damn you or I'll shoot you in the foot." Isn't it?

FOURTH EVENT - the completion

Last night I go into my dashboard and find not one but 2 comments have been left regarding my last blog entry. Oh boy, oh boy I was sooo excited!!!

The comments were from some guy named Rod Kimball, OK so it's a bit of a promo, but it's for juggling (and world domination of...) and he's taken the time to comment on the entry, sure what the heck I'll allow it, this time. And, then a small voice says, wait shouldn't yo

u check to make sure this site is one you'd want to have on your blog after all in hypnosis you don't just let anyone into your safe, happy place, why should you let just anyone onto your comment space.

Good point. So, listening to the wisdom of my inner voice I checked it.

OMG, I couldn't believe it: that someone's out there, that they found my site and are also a juggler (How did that happen? This web world is truly amazing.), that they took the

time to comment...AND, AND...that he's a FLYING KAMARAZOV BROTHER! The COINCIDENCE blog that Adams wrote, which I read, set in motion a coincidence stream that has been completed in this very cool, totally unpredictable way!

I LOVE COINCIDENCES they are magical!

Thanks Rod for taking the time to comment (check out comments at the bottom of the previous post - he also teaches juggling) and for your participation in this event. And, thanks to anyone who stumbles upon this site for reading. I hope it's as fun for you to read as it is for me to write. Have a great one and keep those balls in the air!

Everyone needs a cool juggling bag and this is mine. It used to be my alley bag when I was a kid.

Truce

I woke up several times during the dark hours Sat morning feeling yucky with waves of nausea washing over me, stomach churning, salivary glands secreting, beads of sweat breaking out over my forehead and body, jaw clenching to keep myself from vomiting. Don't you hate throwing up? I do, uugh!

From the tip of my tailbone to my atlas/axis, my back felt like every vertebrae was subluxed causing discomfort from my muscles, tendons, ligaments and connective tissue down to the finest fibres of my body. Oddly, the only thing that didn't hurt was my head and hair. I had all the symptoms of a migraine without the head pain — weird. Since I tend to migraines this was a medical wonder and a small consolation.

I did what I usually do with migraines, I meditated on the pain and went into it. This often helps diffuse it to some degree. I tried various positions: lay on my back in a restorative yoga pose with my chest and head elevated which gives space to the abdominal organs and helps to settle them; then lay on my stomach turning my head and changing my arm positions every 20 breaths or so. The latter is my Mom's remedy for a "tummy" ache which I think has some merit from a meridian point of view as the stomach meridian runs through the front of the body, down the quads and over the top of the ankles and feet (the pressure on the front of the body and warmth is soothing). These efforts did indeed help everything to settle somewhat; enough that I could go deeper.

And what did I find? Everytime a thought or worry came into my head — wham! My stomach would turn. Even the mere inkling that my mind was veering in that general direction was enough to trigger it. When I settled my attention on neutral things, as when I focused on the breath and body position, or, better still combine this with images of a warm, golden, desert plain or a blank canvas it would level out and I'd feel a degree of warmth and calm.

Once I made the connection I tested my theory and sure enough it was so. Every thought brought that churning sensation, most especially these: OMG I'm having a heart attack (Not, or 2 of my clients and 1 friend had had one over the past few weeks too.) and OMG I'm having a stroke. (Can you smile - check, raise both arms - check, speak a sentence - check. Not.)

The nausea persisted the rest of the day and into Sunday as a low laying sour stomach feeling. Within about 48 hours, aided to no small degree by hanging like a bat from my yoga ropes, doing meridian stretches and laying on my back with balls under my skull and glutes it had gone.

Normally I hate being sick with a passion but this time it was different. I had a great weekend! I spent most Saturday sleeping (which I haven't done since... well I can't remember when) drifting in and out of dreams and occasionally rousing myself enough to munch on crackers (the ones "Mooching" Maya hadn't licked) or sip tea or ginger ale which Rod had brought up to my bedside. I'd allow no thoughts of: past, future, things to do or not do, judgements, plans or the like to cross my mind.

I stayed in my PJ's the whole day! And when I got up at 5 p.m. I dove into The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill which was so beautifully written and engaged me so completely that I couldn't put it down til I'd read the last word on Sunday night.

It was as if my mind had reached a point of overload; the only remedy was to give it a rest. The ideal would be to go away, live on a mountain top and just be. So that's what I did, minus going away and living on a mountain top. No phones were answered; e-mails checked or errands done. I let the busy-ness of life drop away once I'd convinced myself that surely the world and everyone in it would get along just fine without my input for 48 hours.

I let cares dissolve into meditation, unloaded my mind through dreams and when my mind had settled enough, I gave it permission to focus on words someone else had written on a page rather than be scattered by those swirling around in my head; I allowed it to become entranced by the author's finely crafted story line rather than be tossed by the gazillion random fretful, fearful, busy ones that normally bubble up in my overwrought mind.

I read without a highlighter in hand, bending any pages or making notes in the margins, which was tremendously freeing (I usually read non-fiction books and articles related to work and am constantly entering info into my brain).

I'd forgotten what a treat it is to be able to just read for the pure pleasure of it.

Late Sunday night Rod was surfing the net in search of a dining room table. He was cruising Amish furniture websites as we're looking for a dining room table to go with some stuff we already have. On one website was a picture of a church and a statement that said they kept Sunday sacred and would be back tomorrow. Not only do they take the day off, they even give their website a day of rest!

It was a synchronistic reminder for me to question how important is the s**t that goes on in my mind or the stuff that I do in the scheme of things that I can't give it a day of rest now and again.

Next time it won't be because I feel like crap, it'll just be because.

coincidence number 4

Sunday Sept. 6th
While conversing, wine in hand, with others in my friend’s torch-lit backyard I am suddenly captivated by the realization that this is the most beautiful summer evening of the season; a fantastic night for a party. The air is calm and fresh and a multitude of stars twinkle and glimmer in a clear sky.

Situated within a virtual forest just up from 12 mile creek, it feels like we are a million miles away from suburbia yet we are a mere 10 minute drive from downtown Oakville.

Christmas lights strewn from tree to tree decorate and define the stage where GCDC (a band of 4 young musicians) are wailing out their own brand of jug band music (I especially enjoyed their rendition of Eleanor Rigby). The audience, some seated, some standing, cluster in small groups through out the yard and patio. Other partiers wander from group to group for a chat and a laugh.

On this night the Moonshine café closed up shop and relocated to their friends Lucy and Terry’s place for this private party and end of the summer celebration – school starts tomorrow heralding new beginnings for us all.

Kicking back and taking in the scene, the scents and the sounds of this festive evening this comment filters through during a musical interlude while the stage is being set and instruments are getting tuned, “Yah, the Moonshine’s really musician friendly; people come to hear the music and the performers encourage and learn from each other.”

Shortly afterwards a rousing jam session begins.

Though I sing flat and off-key and can’t hold a tune, I love music of all kinds. In fact I sing at every opportunity, most especially when I’m crusin’ down the road in my trusty Ford Escort Alf W- provided I am alone. I envy those who can get up and belt out a tune with abandon and the camaraderie that exists between musicians. I love to hear them talk about music in passionate, expressive sentences punctuated by sounds, riffs and body language when words just won’t do.

I come to hear the music.

It is 4 days later and I am in Burlington attending to some business which brings me within a block of my friend Rozanna’s holistic health clinic. I actually have been thinking of her for a few days now and though pressed for time I feel compelled to drop in. The door is open and I tap lightly. She is on the phone and waves me in. I take a seat and as I wait a man enters the room.

He is a singer-songwriter, friend re-entering the music field after some time working in another profession who has just dropped by to play his just released CD for her. In answer to a question I ask he says, “I’d like to play but I don’t want to do the bar scene again. I want to play in a place where people come to hear the music.”

Upon hearing this I have to tell him about the Moonshine Café in Oakville and (another musician friendly place) CJ’s in Bronte.

Will he follow it up? I don’t know. All I know is that for whatever reason this coincidence occurred and feeling as if I was meant to deliver the message I did so, acting as a connector as Malcolm Gladwell would put it.

Or, maybe the real coincidence is that I was meant to walk into her office and get a free CD, which I did. Maybe I really came to hear the music.
__________________________________________________________
Follow the whole string of synchronicities that happened over a two day period beginning with the post of Sept. 11th - synchroni-CITY up to the present post.

Coinkydink report (see previous post)– no hits of yet.

The game is on

O.K. the last post full of lies it wasn’t coincidence #3, but #4 that I was about to write before I got interrupted. And, obviously “I just have enough time to enter this sentence” was total bull because well I wrote more than that sentence didn’t I?

Now to the truth; I was trying to take advantage of the fact that my client was late and sneak in the post to get the word coinkydink out of my mind and then go on to write about coincidence #4 before she got here and of course she rang my doorbell as I was in the middle of the second paragraph.

But before I get to the real synchronicity; that would be coincidence #4…

This weird fixation on a word has prompted me to play the synchronicity game because coinkydink is a word that I haven’t heard or read in years. I can’t even remember when that was though it sounds like something Jim Carey would have said a film like Ace Ventura Pet Detective.

So, what would constitute a real coincidental experience?

GROUND RULES
#1. Hearing someone say coinkydink: either in conversation with me or in a crowd (and no one has read the posts referencing coinkykink – this will not be difficult. Is anyone out there?), on T.V. or in the movies (I can’t now go out and rent Ace Ventura; however if I stumbled upon Ace Ventura and heard the word that would be a coincidence).
#2. Seeing the word coinkydink in print.
#3. Someone while reading the posts referencing coinkydink has a significant memory from the past stirred up where this word has been used in a meaningful way that has relevance for the reader i.e. my late great uncle Ferdinand used the word all the time I take it as a signal that he’s O.K. in the afterlife. No I don’t have an uncle Ferdinand I’m just using it as an example. What the hell do I know from messages from the dearly departed? I’m no John Edwards.
#4. Someone reading this post has, within the last few days, previously heard or seen the word.
#5. It needs to be a totally random, spontaneous occurrence.
#6. It needs to occur within one week, so by Sept. 23rd.

I will keep you posted on this.

And, if any of the above occur what does it mean? Probably nothing but it depends on what the person experiencing the coincidence makes of it – see ground rule #3 for an example. If you are a person for whom coinkydink is significant as per #3 or #4 let me know - enter a comment below.

So, let the game begin!

P.S. I will write about the 4th and last coincidence which occurred on the dates of Sept 10 - 11 in the next post. I promise.

Sync #2 & #3

These 2 coincidences occurred on the same day as previous post, hence sync #2 & #3.

For the past few months every time my sister Candy and I would meet for chai she would ask me if I’d seen the Ricky Gervais DVD - Ricky Gervais: Out Of England: The Stand-Up Special.

“Oh, you’ve got to see it. It’s hysterical!” and she’d laugh and slap her thigh as she thought about it. She’d try to recount one or two bits but would give up and say, “You’ve just got to see it. You have to get it. It’s sooo hysterical.”

Despite her glowing review, I hadn’t taken the time to rent it until last Wed. night. And she was right, his thought processes are way out there (which I love), his timing is classic Warner Brother’s cartoon style and his stand-up persona is so well fleshed out and natural that his delivery is conversational (a big plus in my book) – I really liked him even when he’s saying the most idiotic things. Laughed - my - ass - off - the - whole - time - funny!!!

He really made me appreciate the art of stand-up once again.

Later that night I play a message that’s come in on my answering machine while I was watching the DVD. Someone called about hypnosis for performance anxiety. The client - a stand-up comedian! A STAND-UP COMEDIAN I tell you, no word of a lie. Cross my heart.

The next day my client *Tim (a sweet, mentally challenged, young man who’s been seeing me for Shiatsu for a few years now) arrives sporting new glasses. I can’t help but notice them as they are very snazzy and stylish and I compliment him on them.

“Nancy, see” he points down to the floor at his shoes.

“Oh, wow new shoes too!” I echo his excitement and he grins back with pride at my approval. They are scuffmark-free, sage green, with the backs intact, for the time being; I say that because Tim has a habit of slipping in and out of his shoes without undoing the laces.

As soon as he lays on his back on the futon he asks, “What do you think of my shirt?”

It is deep red and it too is new.

“It’s very nice. Red is a good colour for you.”

“Thanks” he says. His eyes squish up and he grins from ear to ear as he smiles and giggles with delight.

Periodically he repeats, “Nancy, look at my shirt.”

“Yes, yes Tim it’s very nice” I reply.

Over and over these phrases repeat, like a chorus punctuating our conversation. But it is as if he knows I haven’t really been looking at it because each time he’s a little more insistent. “Nancy, look at my shirt…Nancy, look at my shirt.”

And each time I reply “yes Tim it’s very nice”

When he turns over onto his stomach, I straighten out his T-shirt so that I can get a better idea of his alignment. This forces me to really look at the shirt and there it is… GERVAIS Motorsports with 2 black and white checkered flags (crossed like the letter X), the number 6 appears on the left one, 12 on the right.

Do, do, do, do. Do, do, do, do…

You can’t make this up. Who’d believe it?

*(Tim - not his real name)

synchroni-CITY!

(cartoon copyright Nance Thacker '90)
Click on image to enlarge.

Wow, I’m being inundated by synchronicities!!!
Caught 4 over the last 2 days

NUMBER 1:
I’m thinking about whether to post this cartoon that I did a numbed of years ago.
Nah.
But then I realized that there was is a story about the inspiration for the cartoon. I could write about that?
Nah, I thought.
But then doesn’t a similar event happen to me – so you're getting it.

Here’s the background story.
About 19 years ago my friend Pat, who was 76 years old at the time, told me, over a glass of sherry, that she’d laid down on the floor in her sun room the other day to relax.
“It feels so good to lie down on the carpet and soak in the sun” she explained.
After some time had passed there was a loud, authoritative banging on her front door. “Who could that be at this time of day? I wondered as I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
It took her some time to get up off the floor and make her way to the door – the pounding continuing all the while.
“And there’s a young policeman in full uniform standing there and a cruiser in front of my house. Is there anything wrong officer? I ask.”
“Ummm, well no apparently not,” he says somewhat sheepishly, looking about for a rock to crawl under. “I…ah…there was a call…someone...ah…was walking past your house and saw you on the floor, not moving and she, ah made a call. And, he looked at me to fill in the details.”
“Ahh and she thought…” they both nodded as she talked and then said simultaneously.
“I was (you were) dead.”
They stood in uncomfortable silence.
“…Yes, maam she did.”

And, the present day synchronicity:
As you know, Rod and I are renovating the basement. I spent the hottest 2. No, let me correct that. I spent the sunniest, hottest, most stinkin’ly humid 2 summer days of this summer cutting, fitting and installing insulation into the ceiling wearing protective gear that just about made me faint from the heat exhaustion and moisture loss (made me sweat like a pig).
Hiking boots served as construction boots. Socks, torn up blue jeans, T-shirt and sweatshirt were co-ordinated with the ever so sheik:
- Face mask – to keep from inhaling chunks of debris. It makes me inhale my own breath (that’s just so not right and icky) and leaves deep crevices in my cheeks for days; so bad that my friend Sue at Windsor Medical would have vehemently denied that I was one of her photo facial clients. I was thinking of going in and saying hi and seeing if she’d notice anything, but thought that would be cruel.
- Goggles - that fog up from said foul breath leaking out of the face mask, making me virtually blind, when they’re not falling off my nose due to sweat streaming down my face.
- Ear protectors - because last time I worked construction I had tinnitus for 2 months, which was crazy making.
- Bandanna - to keep the volcanic dust from the bits of insulation that fall on my hair down to a minimum.
- Gloves - so that my next Shiatsu clients don’t feel like they’re getting a micro peel.
I totally understand why people don’t wear protective gear. You’re sweaty hot, can’t see, hear, or feel anything. And you’re clumsy to boot; at least I was.
The point is that we did such a fantastic job with the insulation and the ceiling that the place is really, really soundproof. Yesterday as I was waiting for my regular lomi client I lost track of the time writing up treatment reports. It finally dawned on me that time was ticking away and when I checked my watch it was 10 minutes after the hour. My client was 10 minutes late; totally unlike him.
I went upstairs and looked out the door just in time to see him anxiously coming round the hedge.
“Are you alright?” he asked with a worried look on his face as he rushed to the door.
“Uh, huh,” Alright but feeling confused by his concern.
“I’ve been here 10 minutes. I rang 4 times. I got worried about you. The wood door was open and I got no response so I walked around the back to see if maybe something had happened to you. You’re not getting any younger you know.”
Whoa!
YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER!
Ow, and this coming from a 75 year old!
The implications in that statement just freak me out and stop me in my tracks because immediately Pat’s story flashes into my mind, but it was me he was concerned about! Me!
Sure, sure we’re all getting older, everyone gets older; everyone but me that is.

NUMBER 2, 3 and 4 to come…

Meanwhile to check out more recent synchronicities click here, here and here.
And for the full gamut click on synchronicities in “Labels” to the right

JADED!

One of the many things I love about dreamwork is that you don’t have to get the message right away. If you let it sit with you, your dreams, coincidences, or your life will offer up the connection that delivers insight. Such is the case with the 3rd coincidence JADED that I wrote about yesterday.

What was behind the need to write about and explore this coincidence?

Why now?

Every year at about this time a feeling of insidious melancholy creeps up on me. The chill in the air, the shortening of days and the morning dew that appears on the blades of grass bring with them a feeling of longing that grows deep and dark, penetrating my very core. And, true to form this year is no exception.

When I look at my life there is nothing to be worn and weary about, but its tone is contained within nature’s changing seasons. Am I too not a product of nature? Water stirs in my bones, tissues, and cells; the moon and the tides are evidence of its capacity for plasticity. What makes me expect that I should be consistent; remain unaffected?

In last night’s dream I am returning to school. Moving to a higher level; excitement coupled with loss.

Leaving loved ones and dreams behind – some by choice, others have chosen to leave me. Relationships change, “We only have so much energy to expend. One must choose to bring relationships into right relation.” says a friend living the immediacy of the battle between life and death that cancer brings.

FALL – I fall back in time. A time of harvest, of good byes, celebration, appreciation, regrets, gratitude. It is a time for laying the fields to rest. Paths taken at the expense of others; words spoken, those left unuttered; choices made consciously or by omission revisit my soul in this the season of the days of reckoning.

I am being tugged away from the vibrancy and the distractions of summer before I am ready to embrace the journey towards winter’s dormancy. Though I know it is inevitable it is ever so! Resisting the cycle I cling to stories of past choices and futures lost which play over and over, intensifying, torturing and entangling me in their web.

…If this I choose.

The recollection of and the need to write about the coincidence of JADED was perhaps meant to do nothing more than lift my spirits or maybe it is the way to something more.

FRESH!

“We need to take dreams more literally, and the events of waking life more symbolically”
- Robert Moss
the THREE "ONLY" THINGS
- tapping the power of dreams, coincidence & imagination
(note: click on the link then Books Media and then on the book itself for more info)

This is a quote from the book that I’m reading at the moment. I love this stuff!
I really love to play with what is commonly called synchronicity or more accurately coincidence; I look for these happenings every day and today caught 3.

First one:
Rod and I are renovating. We have been sanding the walls all morning and Rod discovers that we need a specific type of primer paint to allow us to paint acrylic paint over the oil paint we have on one wall. I, being the gopher as well as demo-woman, have to go to the paint store. “But before you go, check yourself in the mirror”, he advises.

I have to laugh as my hair and face are covered with white dust reminding me of native cultures who cover their faces with ash during various ceremonies.

On the drive back from the store as I wonder in what direction my particular dubious skills will take me in the future, in the distance I see a man in his early 30’s. At first glance his face looks like it’s painted like a lion. But that can’t be I think to myself and then I question, “why not?” Upon closer inspection he looks a little wild and crazy as he has thick white cream of sorts smeared irregularly over his face.

Second incident:
Rod and I take a break from our painting. On page 2 of today’s SUN newspaper is this headline “Documents suggest former Rolling Stone Brian Jones was murdered”.

On our drive home from our holiday on Sat I had my ipod on shuffle and up came a Stones’ song, which for some reason, lead me to comment that there was another Stone at one time but he was found dead in his swimming pool.

Now, I’ve listened to the Stones many times without ever thinking about that particular piece of trivia.

Third one:
Thinking about what to write next in the blog I consider writing about one particular coincidence (before either of these two events had occurred) but discount it. Then just a few hours ago as I’m reading Moss’s book, these words on page 183 “And you’re not too old or jaded to develop a fresh (italics his) connection” jump out at me. Though this is referring to the use of images of superheroes or cartoon characters in boosting the immune system’s abilities to fight off disease, the word of interest is jaded.

Here’s why.

I was going to write about a delightful, synchronic event that happened a few years back.
Melissa, my friend Sue’s daughter had a song that was just starting to get some air play on the radio. It seemed every time we talked her song had just been played, but I’d always missed it and was disappointed. Then, one day while driving, I noticed the license plate of the car in front of me – JADED. No sooner did I begin to laugh when lo and behold Melissa’s voice came over the radio singing her (then) latest release called - JADED. I got so excited and delighted by this coincidence that I had to then and there call Sue (who also works with dreams as well) to tell her just what was happening.

I got her answering machine and left a hysterical message beginning with, “you’ll never guess what is happening at this very moment…” with the music blaring audibly in the background.

All the while I figure I have to pass this guy and get his attention regarding this magical (to me anyway) event. I speed up, roll my windows down as I do so, crank the volume up even more, and as I pass, wave to the guy to get his attention and then point to the radio and to his license plate.

Well, I don’t know if he "got it" or whether all he saw was just this wild, crazy woman flailing about in her car but I do know that in that moment I was not jaded but in fact was quite the opposite!

So what does all of this mean?

I don’t know if it means anything.

But, it just makes life magical! And, that for some reason I needed to blog about this today.

I just checked the thesaurus, for antonyms for jaded to use as a title for this entry, they are: unused, fresh. Well, I didn’t know that. Apparently that's another word of interest.

Somewhere a theramin is playing!

O.K. what is it about this dreamwork that brings out synchronistic happenings?

In my last blog I talked about the dream DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A KNOT and how the very next day my husband Rod used that phrase (which he's never done before) when I was getting frustrated dealing with something other than my knickers. I went on to talk about how to deal with knickers in a knot as opposed to how I deal with Christmas lights in a knot (see the last blog).

So don't I, just at this moment, open an e-mail from a university "sister" whom I haven't heard from in ages. She's sending one of those chain type e-mails which she says, "I normally don't send this type of thing but I liked the message of this one."

After the initial message was a whole bunch of inspirational sayings along with this comment: "you can tell the nature of an individual by how she handles, rainy days, old people, lost luggage, and tangled up Christmas lights". Aside from being an example of synchronicity at work this shows you that I am unphased by the weather, patient with the elderly, accepting of circumstances being sure that they will all work out in the end - a virtual paragon of peace and tranquility with 1/4 raving lunatic thrown in for balance.

Not not, knot.

I have always been curious about prophetic dreams since it was a dream of apparent prophecy that got me interested in dreams in the first place – a dream that luckily, didn’t come true.

In my early teens I dreamt that I would die in a car accident, in which I was the driver of a red car, at the age of 21. I never told anyone about my dream which isn’t unusual as no one I knew talked about dreams.

What does one to do with information that seems fated? Well, for one thing, initially I vowed not to drive. But when I was 18, my 16 year old brother was learning and I said to myself, “If my younger brother can do it how difficult can it be?” After all I was safe until I was 21 wasn’t I? So then I decided to make a pact with fate, “keep me safe” I proposed, “and I won’t drive during the year I turn 21, or…maybe…if I do drive… I’ll make sure the car isn’t red.”

But, while my older brother was giving me a driving lesson in his red Cortina I smacked into a bush having spun off of some loose gravel after stalling on a steep hill. I virtually jumped out of the car and almost fell down the steep embankment a foot or so to the left of the vehicle. Well, that freaked me out because fate wasn’t keeping his side of the bargain and in my dream car there was a male in the passenger seat. That was just a little too close for comfort. It’s one thing if I crash and burn alone but it’s a whole other thing if I take someone with me. I wouldn’t be able to live, or is that die, with myself if that was the case.

I didn’t drive again til I was 30 but, I did establish a life long fascination with and practice of dreamworking.

A few weekends ago, during a workshop in ACTIVE DREAMING – lead by Ruth Lewis (a student of Robert Moss) using the lightning dreamwork technique, we asked the dreamer, “Could the dream happen in waking life?” Ruth said this is a good way to track ones’ powers of intuition. I became casually interested in this aspect and it has since become part of my dreamwork process.

Well, I had my first prophetic dream a few nights after the workshop!

I’ve been dealing with a challenging situation in my waking life so I decided to take it to my dreams. How can I deal with this frustrating, very intense, energy draining, seriously complicated dilemma that has dogged me for months now? My dreams surely would yield an answer full of symbolism, profound wisdom and deeply powerful images.

But I woke up with nada, nothing, bupkiss – only a fleeting irrelevant image, more like a mental burp really, that I discounted and forgot about; that is until later on in the day when I went to put on my gotchies.

My undies were all tangled up. Wham – OMG just like in my dream!

Now, I know you are saying to yourself. “What kind of stupid dream is that? How relevant is it to the situation?”

I titled my dream; DON’T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A KNOT.

Is that starting to make more sense to you?

I often dream in puns and there it was. The saying implies that I am getting worked up about nothing, and I am actually making the situation worse than it really is.

I felt annoyed at my gotchies in waking life; as I did in the dream. What do you do when your knickers are in a knot? The only way to put on knotted knickers is to be patient as you unknot them (Remember we’re talking about essential panties, not Christmas tree lights which, when I last dealt with them, I was patient for about 2 seconds. Then the uncontrollable swearing started; flailing about with them like some crazy person followed. Finally I chucked my conservation ethics along with the big tangled ball in the trash and I felt much better, thank you very much!), and keep your balance while you step into them one foot at a time.

So, it was reminding me to watch what I feed with my energy, take time untangling my energy from the situation, keep my balance in the process and enter back into the situation from my new perspective; taking one step at a time.

Because of the dream and its message I was able to realize 2 light bulb moments in ordinary reality that I probably wouldn’t have recognized without understanding the message of the dream. These waking life situations made me see negative thought and action patterns of mine that were complicating the situation, feeding it and perpetuating the very thing that I’ve been trying to free myself from. Fortunately, once they were revealed and I dealt with my bruised ego, I could take responsibility, forgive myself and let it go – untangling cords of negativity that had been formed. Then the actions that were required to move forward; the change in attitude and approach needed became very clear to me.

Sometimes the small dreams are the really big ones in disguise.

And, as if to emphasize the message an element of synchronicity occured in waking life just yesterday when I was getting frustrated while working on renovations with my husband and he said (and I've never heard him say this before), "Don't get your knickers in a knot". Yup, he did. I kid you not.

TRAVEL ADVISORY

What you are about to read is the “stuff” of life. You can’t make this “stuff” up.

You might recall my blog Reader’s Digest Reject #1 in which a friend of ours lost his dentures, while body surfing in Hawaii, on day one of a 3 week vacation. Unable to get them replaced in that time span, he was forced to gum his food for the remainder of his stay.

Well, Rod and I went over to Austin and Linda’s place for a BBQ and who should be there but our friend the body surfer, his wife and another couple (who we’d only met once or twice before), the husband of which is the best friend of body surfing guy; they’ve known each other since they were kids.

Our friend proceeded to tell the denture story in animated detail beginning with, “a big wave came up and slapped me on the back of the head” whacking his head for effect “and blew my dentures right out of my mouth…” making a projecting motion with his head.

His wife confirmed that indeed he was dentureless for the duration and added, “every time we walked the beach we’d call out - here chompers, chompers, chompers - and scan the shore but we had no luck.”

Then to my amazement his friend says, “That’s nothing. I lost mine on the first day of a 4 week vacation in Hawaii and couldn’t get them replaced either.”

He was snorkeling and as he climbed into the boat he pulled the snorkel out of his mouth; inadvertently his dentures came out with it and were flung into the sea.

“I sat at the edge of the boat and watched them float down and out of view as we were motored away.” said his helpless wife whose wild gestures and shouts of distress went unnoticed by her husband and the pilot of the boat til it was too late.

What are the odds? At a table of 8 people, not one but two, have lost their dentures to the waters of Hawaii. Apparently the odds are 2 out of 8. That's a staggering 25% people!

Therefore, I feel it is my responsibility to issue this travel alert.

TRAVEL ADVISORY:

Beware the waters of Hawaii, they will claim your dentures if you are not alert!
Bring an extra set with you.

Better still; go to Hawaii while you still have your teeth!

WEIRD - Life's Like This

Woke up yesterday feeling weird. WEIRD, is all I can say – not here not there, as if suspended somewhere between sleeping and waking. And, all kinds of weird stuff happened.

The night before, after many unreturned phone messages (so unlike her) I finally reach my friend in Montreal. Her voice is listless and emotionless as she says “Hello.”
“It’s Nance,” I exclaim, hoping that maybe she is just momentarily distracted but knowing in my gut that this isn’t so.
“Hi,” same tone.
“What’s wrong?”
She tells me her 2 year old grandson has had a stroke. She has literally just walked in the door after being at the hospital.
We sit on either end of the phone in disbelief. She begins to tell me his story but within minutes finds herself overwhelmed by images of past, present and future and promises to call when she can.

Her pain is palpable and has echoed in my heart; maybe that’s the reason I’m off kilter. We are all connected. One person’s pain is the pain of all.

Chipped the lovely ceramic coffee mug Rod gave me for Christmas. It’s very playful, colourful and unique, with a big loopy handle that for months now I have feared would get broken off so I stopped taking it into coffee shops and it has been safely sitting on my shelf for occasional in home use. Distracted by my not here not there state of being, sure enough I knocked it over as I was clearing the counter. Luckily the handle remains intact and the chip is on an outer service. In a weird way, now that my fear has become manifest in a much gentler way I can relax and feel gratitude that I can still enjoy drinking from it. I take this as a special reminder to watch my mind today and be present.

My sister Candy and I went biking into Oakville and back. I almost cancelled as it looked like rain, but decided to go when Candy said “I have rain gear.”
“O.K. great” I reply but when I hang up I realize that I don’t. Hmmm.

Getting ready to go; one cat not accounted for. Maya, her little black self had disappeared into God knows where. After looking high and low for her, even into cupboards and closets I decide that for some reason she doesn’t want to be seen and that even if I was looking straight at her this would indeed be so. Sure enough when we return there she is tucked up into a tight little origami ball in the corner of the top step.

Sitting in a café in Oakville a young woman at the next table says, “You look familiar. I know you from somewhere.”
She looks familiar to me too but we can’t find a connection. “I get this all the time, there’s a woman around that looks like me and” pointing to my sister, “it’s not her is it?”
“No…my God, you look just like my skating teacher!”
Then she proceeds to write down her teachers name and where she teaches.
I had just been thinking about my double last week. I hadn’t heard about her for a few months now and thought maybe she’d moved; apparently not.
Today I pull up the information. I’m flattered. I have been mistaken for someone who does look a lot better than I. She is younger, slimmer, taller, much prettier (before I cut my hair and stopped colouring it, it was like hers) and way more accomplished than I. But, apparently we talk and move the same and wear similar clothes.

Candy and I go into L’Atelier Grigorian in search of some music for her. Just the day before, as I turned the ignition key in my car, the beautiful, gentle voice of Kenny Rankin surfed, dipped and glided through the airwaves and filled my heart and soul with such joy (STOP READING NOW. CLICK ON THAT LINK I JUST GAVE YOU. SIT BACK AND TAKE IN THE LOVELINESS!) I’ve rarely head his music on the radio, I though to myself, and as I sat there listening, I felt a renewed appreciation for his work. I had most of his albums at one time, played them so much that they were virtually unplayable and had vowed to replace them and go to see him in concert. Now would be a great time to embark on that plan.
“Do you have any Kenny Rankin CD’s?”
“Yes, right here,” the owner begins sorting through the display case while casually mentioning, “he died just last week I think.”
“What!? But, I was just thinking the other day that I’d go to see him in concert someday” I protest in disbelief, as if this would make any difference.
I am stunned, deeply saddened and feel an unexplainably intense sense of loss.

I have a Lomi to do today. Lomi days often open up all kinds of stuff into the universe as intentions are set we are in effect dreaming the universe into being. Maybe that’s the cause for all of this weirdness.

After the lomi session I feel the overwhelming need to hang upside down, fortunately for me, I have a yoga pelvic swing suspended from my ceiling with which to do so. Ahh, relief ! Somehow this makes me feel so much better as if I am aligning myself to a new perspective.

My 30 minute daily clutter clearing commitment (that I began writing about in the last post)brings me to stored information. I am an information junkie. Notes from Shiatsu School (graduated in ‘97), STAO newsletters and old Yoga Centre (the centre has since evolved into the Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria) of Victoria Newsletters (from ’87 on to 2002) are the focus. Memories surface and cherished stories and pictures are unearthed from the masses of paper. Shirley’s 70th birthday celebration issue; tributes to Swami Radha; faces and stories of others parade through my hands and my mind – Derek and family, Marlene, Jim and Jennifer, Leslie and Giles, Carol and Harvey, Sue and Bruce, Padmananda, Norman, Cecilia, Penny, Tanya, Susan and the dreamgroup, Anne, Gay and Rob, Lauren, Kiko, Linda, and so many others. And, included in their pages are stories and pictures of the many teachers I have been so honoured to study with: Ramanand, Aadhil, Felicity, Judith, Angela and Victor, Donald, Norma (the teacher who first brought Iyengar yoga to Yoga Centre of Victoria), even Iyengar himself in one brief workshop during his visit to Victoria.
Old issues of Yasodhara’s Ascent magazine appear – not the glossy one which, coincidentally, has its last issue now on the newsstand – but the small local publication from decades ago with then current writings of Swami Radha herself.

Maybe I’m overloaded by all of these memories. As I read THE FOUR INSIGHTS by Alberto Villoldo this comment jumps out at me. “Allow yourself to release the expectations you had of yourself, and accept that you’ve made different choices.” In its simplicity it speaks volumes regarding my life’s path and I find my attitude undergoing a monumental shift in a most positive direction.

I’m considering yet again, “What is the purpose of your life?” – part of the 28 day Soul Coaching work, which I wrote about in the last post. While watching IN TREATMENT (the episode – the first visit with Walter) a light bulb moment occurs when Gabriel Bryne says this line that resonates deep within me, “Some people spend their whole lives seeking Self-awareness” or something like that as I can’t find the specific episode in question (weird).

I receive an E-mail message which in part reads, “Thanks Nance. Does that mean I can use the latest?” This is part of an ongoing correspondence between me and an editor of a book on yoga stories. Since I last wrote to her in April/09, I have no idea!

And, you guessed it, I was just thinking about her that day but I really didn’t expect to hear from her til next spring. WEIRD.

MANAWA

I’m reading THE POWER OF NOW by Eckart Tolle.

The next morning before getting out of bed I consult the oracle cards JOURNEY TO KANAKA MAKUA as I always do. They are a source of guidance for me; a way to understand how I can make the most of the day. At least that, or some question like it, is the intention I have as I shuffle the cards most mornings.

How can I make the best of this day?

I run the question over and over in my mind; let myself feel and sense the essence of the question as the cards slide over each other with each pass. Sometimes as I shuffle a card will fall out of my hands. Sometimes more than one will. Sometimes as I shuffle it seems as if a card asks to be picked by poking up beyond all the others and just drawing my fingers to it. Sometimes when I feel the cards are ready I fan them out and pass my hand over them and “find” my hand stopping over the card that holds the answer. Other times I divide them into 3 stacks and put them together into one, picking the card that is on the top of the new arrangement.

Sometimes as I shuffle, at the very moment that my mind wanders a card will fall out of my hands or becomes difficult to put into the deck and it is the one that has significance for the “mind stuff” of that very moment – perhaps a “heads up” about what the day may bring or about the type of awareness required of me this day. Then I have to recapture what I was thinking, feeling or sensing; where my awareness was at that moment of lack of focus.

Or, I have been drifting for some time on automatic pilot and the cards scatter like my thoughts and I see a pattern laid out before me reflecting some pattern in my present behaviour which will have ripples throughout the rest of my day.

Sometimes one card doesn’t “feel” complete and I choose more messengers or they choose me; often I don’t know which is the case.

On this day I ask, “How can I make the best of this day?”

I shuffle the cards, keeping my concentration clear and crisp, one rises above and slightly behind the others. My fingers are stuck to it and wouldn’t move.

MANAWA – NOW

Out of all the 49 other cards that I could have picked this one appears! (I just find this so cool and magical!) I am reminded as I live this day that the past is just a memory and the future yet to be though both arise and move through me time and time again with such a painful intensity of emotion that sweeps me away robbing me of the pure joy that resides in each moment. Again and again I bring myself back to all that really exists – this present moment.

Really, as I type the words on the screen, and as you are reading them now ...in...each...fraction... of...each...moment...there resides the opportunity for such clarity that the whole universe, of which we are just a small part, opens up within and around us and we can realize the immensity and power in this "small, mundane" act.