Monthly Archives: February 2016

A Change in the Waters

The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green. ~ Thomas Carlyle


Oh, after two months of house- and dog-sitting, I am home again! At the beginning of my stay, I missed being home. Now, the change of residence calls for adapting again.

Change calls for acceptance, adaptability, and flexibility. Imagine a lump of clay dissolving in water. We can be like
• the water, which embraces all things;
• the clay, which adapts to its surroundings;
• a piece of iron that melts in a furnace, burning with passion or molding ourselves into a new creation, having passed through heat that tempers and strengthens us. (Quantum God, Chapter 20: Change is the only unchanging aspect of life)

Water is truly the element that adapts to its conditions.

Formless Like Water

Water reminds me of the empath, the person who identifies with and feels what another is feeling.

A little girl once ran home and tugged on her mother’s arm. “I just saw Mr. Wilson,” she said. “He was sitting on his front porch, and he was crying.”

“Oh, you didn’t bother him, did you? You know he just lost Mrs. Wilson.”

“No, Mama,” said the little girl. “I climbed up on his lap and cried with him.”

What a vivid illustration of empathy! And surely all of us are moved to sadness, wonder, or joy by many of the encounters we have. Sometimes, however, we soak up those vibrations, as I did last year with the old dog’s stiffness and pains—and then had a hell of a time getting rid of those destructive energies.

For Christmas, my empathic daughter asked for a concoction of essential oils that help shield her from negative energy. As for me, particularly before I visit Pam in the Alzheimer’s care center, I try to remember to form an intention to radiate instead of absorb—to flow out, rather than soak up energy.

EmitOwnFrequency copy

This week, I intend to continue the practice of radiating, especially when change calls for adapting. One thing that will not change, though, is the love and blessings flowing out to you, dear heart.


Deep Listening

Frantically searching for someone to hear their story…
“Listen to the Rain,” Amy Lee, Composer

My sister in Denver called about our mother last week. I missed Nancy’s call, but prepared myself to be alarmed. What had happened to Mom? I started planning how to arrange for dogsitting at two homes, ours and my employer’s, in order to head out west.

When I called Nancy, I discovered she was stressed out and merely wanted to talk. Good! I can talk, and I can listen.

I have a friend whose one-sided conversations tend to be long-winded and sometimes confrontational—and he wonders why people don’t like to be around him. He has not learned that often the best gift we can give is to listen.

Deep listening means listening without an agenda. It mean letting the other person finish what he is saying before you start thinking about what your response is — giving your full attention to this one person standing in front of you.

To listen deeply is to be in the present moment, with an open heart and a clear mind. (Rev. Karyn Bradley, Unity Temple on the Plaza, 10/28/01)

Really listening to someone speaking is not the only deep listening we can do. I don’t know that there’s ever a time when my children drive their cars without turning music on. I myself prefer to use the television for background sound, unless the rain is singing its lovely melody outside, or the wind howling or, if I’m lucky, the ocean is crashing upon rocky cliffs. Is what we’re listening to drowning out our own thoughts?

Indeed, is what we hear an improvement on silence?

Our days are filled with sound. What about the adage, “Silence is golden?” In the silence we can hear our own thoughts rattling around in our minds—we’ve greater mental acuity. In the silence we are more attuned to how we’re feeling—and whether we need to adjust our thoughts so as to make ourselves feel better! And it is in silence that we can hear the Voice of Spirit.

“The Voice for God is always quiet, because it speaks of peace, and it is as loud as your willingness to listen. It cannot be louder without violating your freedom of choice.” (A Course in Miracles)

This week I vow to spend more time in silence. As for now, I send you, dear heart, a silent but powerful blessing and—

love, chelle

Alexander BANNER

Alexander and the Terrific, Awesome, So Good, Very Glad Day

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day was published in 1972. The award-winning book, written by Judith Viorst and illustrated by Ray Cruz, chronicled one day in a young boy’s life—a day when nothing went right. From his first step out of bed (onto his skateboard) to his nightlight burning out when he finally returns to bed (in pajamas he hates), all he can think of is that he’d rather be in Australia. Alexander noticed nothing redeeming about that day except perhaps the realization that people also have bad days in Australia.

This week I got stuck behind a car traveling slower than the speed limit. It was a gray compact (don’t ask me what make or model!) and nondescript except for one thing. Its license plate read, “IN AWE.”

What a wonder-full mantra to take with you wherever you go!

Although I try to begin and end each day feeling grateful, I confess that I have not been noticing many things that cause me to stop and stare in wonder. My focus tends to be on the task at hand, or “decompressing” from completed tasks or, as I write in Quantum God, “…so intent on what our future should bring that we fail to notice the wonder that has cropped up, right before our eyes. Like a treasure of cheerful, golden dandelions.”

We’re not likely to see dandelions any time soon, but the daffodils will soon be sprouting, and kindnesses abound, and Mother Earth is full of elements that inspire awe.

Earth via HubbleHubble telescope photo of Earth

This week I intend to notice the world around me, and to let it move the world within me to wonder. I invite you, dear heart, to share wonder-full experiences with all of us.

love, chelle


Let It Be Sew

“Look, Floyd,” said God, “help Me out here.
Go buy a lottery ticket, will you?” (Quantum God)


When I tried to meet Roxie at Ponak’s for a Mexican dinner, I called her and said I’d be a while—there was no place to park.

“Let me go outside,” she said, leaving the restaurant. “Come back in, come now. There’s a spot right now.”

I turned into the parking lot again and found Roxie standing in the empty space, saving the spot for my car. Hurray for quick action! Praying and envisioning is all well and good, but we need to act, too.

When my mom was young, she and Da would go downtown and look at the mannequins in Macy’s, and Peck and Peck, and Jones. Then Da would cut patterns out of newspaper and sew fashionable dresses for Mom.

Kate in her sweater

Now, I can paint. Write. Sculpt. I’ve composed songs and screenplays, and drawn floor plans for houses. Created a four-layer double-cream chocolate ganache cake and no-bake cheesecake. I also crochet and knit—here’s Kate in her Christmas sweater that I mentioned laboring over four months ago (“A Change in Pattern”).

Unfortunately, I did not inherit Da’s skill set. I am not a seamstress. In  fact, sewing is one of the two things capable of reducing me to tears and swearing and throwing (soft) objects at the walls!

But Merrie Kate’s birthday is approaching, and I’ve had a sewing project in mind for years. I am blessed with good and kind people in my life, so I called upon three friends. First, Clara, an expert quilter, gave me advice. Next, Kay helped me cut out and pin pieces for the patchwork wrap. Finally, on an end-of-the-week, weary Friday night, Roxie came over to thread my brand new sewing machine and provide moral support while I actually used the frightful thing.

Whatever the outcome, I acted upon this vision. I sew hope that you are creating your best and brilliant visions. And if I can help, call on me. Ita fiat: Let it be so!

love, chelle