Recently, I wrote about a book called Autobigraphy of a Yogi by Paramhausa Yogananda. The book is, more or less, a litany of miracles and gurus the author witnessed firsthand—and it is quite lengthy. My first reaction: how did one fairly normal young man growing up in India meet so many enlightened masters in one lifetime? I mean, granted, he was training to be one, too. But seriously.
My conclusion, which may or may not be true, was that at least at the time the book was written, India was a culture of belief. Even people who were without the author’s fanatical, wholehearted search for God (like his brother Ananda) believed strongly in omens, predictions, etc., as evidenced by the stories in the book. Therefore, more miracles actually occurred.
This reminds me of the beloved Indonesian guru in Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. His parents told him his whole life that he was spiritually gifted, so he just never questioned it. As a result, he became a very intuitive miracle worker.
There is, and was, and always will be, a whole lot to be said for simple faith.
What do you think? Does more faith mean more miracles? Or are there the same number of miracles happening either way, but when less faith is present more of them just go unnoticed?
Two years ago I had the pleasure of holding a book signing for my latest book, You’re Getting Closer: One Year of Finding God and a Few Good Friends. Here, a reblog for you: the piece I wrote promoting the event–and my perspective on the goal of my writing as I see it right now.
Mollie Player is just a regular person. And yet, she is trying—sometimes very, very hard—to be different. And the way Mollie wants to be different is this: she wants to stay the same.
She just wants to be more of herself.
She wants to learn how to be aware of the Divine inside her at all times. She wants to communicate with God.
In other words: she wants to get enlightened.
Lofty goal? Maybe. Is she there yet? Probably not.
But she is, just maybe, on her way.
Often when people describe their lives these are the things they talk about:
What they did or do;
What they had or have;
Who they knew or know.
If you ask Mollie, though, she’d tell you that those things aren’t what life is at all.
Life, she says, is what goes on inside your mind.
It’s what you care about. It’s what you dream about.
It’s what you think about every day.
And so, even though she is just a regular person, Mollie decided to write about some of the thoughts that have made up her real life so far—and with which other regular people may be able to relate.
Mollie hopes that you like them, but more than that: she hopes they’ll make you different—even if that just means being more of yourself.
You know how you sometimes meet those old people that look so serene and Mother Teresa-like and all? And you think, I want to be like that when I’m old, instead of one of the crochety complainers.
Well, ever since starting my spiritual practice of acceptance, I’ve begun to suspect something. I suspect that the difference between the saints and the complainers is that the complainers are still always trying to fix things, whereas the saints have somehow learned to merely observe and love.
I think there is a single word behind their stunningly beautiful eyes.
Seth, Abraham, Kryon, Archangel Michael … these are just a few of the many spirit entities to be channeled for the benefit of the individual and the masses. And yet, reading them kinda makes you wonder: do these guys and gals really know everything?
Here’s the thing: they never say they do. They just say they know a lot more than us. In one oft-repeated spiritual analogy, each spirit, whether human or otherwise, is a drop of water in the large ocean that is God, the All-That-Is. Their knowledge, while vaster than ours by a long shot (temporarily) is still limited by their unique perspective (as well as certain limitations of the channeler).
So let’s love our spirit guides. Let’s honor our channeled entities.
Continuing with my spiritual practice of acceptance. It has seriously rocked my world. With all of my complaints, desires, wants, hungers, etc. etc., it was hard to really feel-know what I already knew-knew about how awesome my life really is.
By accepting what is, even if I don’t love it so much–as Eckhart Tolle says, knowing that what is happening right now is perfect for my growth and evolution because it is what is happening right now (paraphrased)–I am able to enjoy what is when I do love it.
The day after starting this practice I got a massage and a facial. I spent the following beautiful, sunny morning at a park with my kids, the afternoon taking a nap, and the evening writing. And I was actually able to enjoy it all rather than obsess about every detail of those moments that wasn’t absolutely “perfect” (those face chemicals hurt, right?).
I feel like all of this time I thought I was an adult, I was really still just a kid. Now, I’m accepting what is.
Just want to draw your attention to an article that I helped write titled Why We Need Body Positive Stock Photos. Please share this out as it is a very important message. Thank you.
I have to admit that one of the parts of the book 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works–A True Story by news anchor Dan Harris that really sold me was his oh-so-taboo comparison of Eckhart Tolle and Deepak Chopra. Now, before I get into this, let me just say one thing: I don’t personally agree with his assessment of either (in their entirety). I think both Tolle and Chopra are probably super awesome human beings. That said, as someone who doesn’t consider himself a mystic or even particularly spiritual, Harris has a fascinating perspective to share.
First, Harris tells of an interview in which Chopra became super defensive and competitive. He contrasts this with Chopra’s own declaration that, as an enlightened person, he is pretty much always calm and happy (forgive me if the wording here isn’t perfect). Meanwhile, Tolle makes the opposite impression. Tolle’s calm, detached mannerisms change not a whit after the cameras are off and the interview is done. He doesn’t even show nervousness during the interview or beforehand.
The conclusion Harris comes to: Chopra isn’t quite as even-tempered as he says he is. And Tolle just might be a little crazy. After all, if he’s as sincere as he seems, that means he actually believes all that kooky stuff he says about being enlightened.
I dropped my second debit card into an unreachable place in my car, then misplaced a third.
My one-year-old spilled a plate of marinara-soaked asparagus onto my lap and the floor. Then I ate it off the floor.
I walked past three soggy diapers on my kitchen floor numerous times without picking them up.
For over an hour, my three-year-old repeated the word “booby” and tugged at my shirt as I lay in the fetal position on the floor.
Both my kids pooped in a park where there was no bathroom. My three-year-old then refused to be changed in the grass or to go with me to the car to get the baby’s diaper. When he finally followed me to the car, I put them both in with poopy diapers. On the way home the baby fell asleep. In poop.
I fell asleep during sex.
But I still took my jog, so I’d call the day a success.
This week, I began a new spiritual practice: acceptance. It’s weird to me that I’ve never made this a deliberate thing before (in fact, I’ve been pretty terrible about it altogether). This, in spite of:
Eckhart Tolle’s admonitions to see that everything that is, is perfect;
Buddhist admonitions to prefer nothing over anything else;
Esther Hicks’ admonitions to offer no resistance;
“What we resist, persists,”
Jesus, A Course in Miracles, and countless others bringing the same message; and, of course,
A year ago, before Christmas, my husband and I had a meeting. We sat down at the kitchen table and talked about how much money was in our bank account currently and how much we wanted to spend during the holiday season. Our budget included a trip for my husband and our two boys.
We did the math and said, “Okay, at the end of the holidays we will have X amount in our bank account.” It was an intention as well as a promise.
December came. Chris left with the boys, and our two girls and I wanted to do a few special things while they were away. For a day or so I asked myself if this would be wise as I may end up overspending. But it felt right, so I went with it.
We got massages and manicures and bought a few other things, and by the time we were done I realized we had, in fact, spent too much. We had gone over budget by about $900.
Realizing this, I did not freak out. Instead, I told myself that what we’d spent felt right to me and everything would work out somehow.
A few days later, my last day of vacation before returning to work, I was driving to a friend’s house when I got terribly lost. For the life of me, I couldn’t make a correct turn. Finally, I decided to pull into a cul-de-sac and consult my GPS. As I did so, I noticed something strange: On the street, there was a small pile of papers.
As I neared it, I looked closer. Those weren’t just any papers, I realized. It was a pile of money.
I got out of the car and picked it up. Then I counted it. The amount was $900 exactly.
Recently, I posted a summary of a book written by the late medium Jane Roberts and the spirit entity who spoke through her named Seth. One thing that stood out to me as I read the book: Seth’s personality is so different from Abraham’s (the entity channeled by Esther Hicks), Kryon’s (what a nut!) and others’. Seth is super, super cerebral. He tries to make jokes but they aren’t that funny. (Sorry, Seth!)
I guess this makes me wonder: How much of who I am is who I really am, and always will be, in all my incarnations? Will I always be a writer or communicator? Will I always have a Type A personality? Which parts of me are permanent, and which parts are changeable?
What do you think? How much of you is really you, forever?
Angels, guides, God and all there is:
Help me find within myself the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the things I can change that aren’t changed yet,
the things I can change that I think I can’t change,
the things I knew I could change but didn’t,
and the things that I can and will change later . . .
and the wisdom to see that there is no difference.
This self-help success story was contributed by Jenny Thorne.
Readers of Eckhart Tolle understand the importance of appreciating the present moment–paying attention as much as possible to the glorious Now and leaving the past behind us. For a long time, though, I was stumped by something: How am I supposed to live in the present and also allow myself to feel the desires that lead to conscious creation?
What about visualization? What about mantras? What about figuring out what I don’t want so that I can decide what I do want to welcome into my life?
Then the other day, a good friend talked to me about the importance of acceptance.
“Life is perfect, just as it is,” she said. “You don’t have to want a single new thing to be happy.”
And I knew it was true, because she has four young children and she manages it all amazingly well.
So, the following day, I took her advice. I started a new spiritual practice: that of accepting everything that came.
“Bring it on, Universe,” I said. “Do your worst. I’m going to learn to love what is if it kills me.”
And it was the greatest experience. That day I happened to spend most of the sunny afternoon at a park with my two wonderful children. Then that evening I was treated to a massage and a facial. I truly enjoyed these experiences in a way I have rarely done before, without fault-finding and overly critical thinking and too-high expectations.
It was wonderful.
I’m pretty sure the Universe wanted me to have an especially good first try at all this acceptance stuff, because over the following few days things got back to normal. Kids crying till my ears hurt, poopy diapers . . . you get the idea.
But I continued my new-found spiritual practice, and what I noticed right away was that none of the bad stuff seemed all that bad anymore. Because they weren’t that bad. They were the challenges of life.
There’s an amazing quote in The Power of Now (by Eckhart Tolle) about whether or not we as conscious creators should accept that bad stuff happens.
“Is suffering really necessary? Yes and no. If you had not suffered as you have, there would be no depth to you as a human being, no humility, no compassion. You would not be reading this now. Suffering cracks open the shell of ego, and then comes a point when it has served its purpose. Suffering is necessary until you realize it is unnecessary.”
Beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes we law of attraction believers get down on ourselves for not having everything we want, not outwardly appearing to be as successful as others we know. As much as I believe in and practice visualization, affirmations and meditating on what I desire, and pray to the angels and seek enlightenment and read books and discuss spiritual matters for hours on end . . . I’m remembering through it all that I am in a process. I am experiencing everything–“good” and “bad”–for a reason.
Truly, it is all perfect.
And here’s the really funny part (that you may have guessed already): Ever since my revelation on acceptance, things are flowing better for me, too. What I need and want comes to me in a natural way, at the right time–often before I consciously know I need it.
If you are a dissatisfied spiritual person, someone who wants to become a more positive thinker right now, I encourage you to embrace this paradox.
Accept first. Then work on your deliberate creation.
This is what the view in Puerto Rico is really like . . . when you’re stuck in a hotel with two overtired children.
You don’t need to bring two pairs of long underwear on a ten-day trip to Puerto Rico.
You also don’t need to bring 200 diapers.
There is a difference between traveling and vacationing. Don’t confuse them; it’ll ruin everything. Going to a resort is not traveling; it is vacationing. Renting a local’s house that you have to clean up before you leave is not vacationing; it is traveling.
The next time I plan a trip on which two or more children will be in tow, I will very carefully consider which of the two to choose, and what to expect of the trip as a result.
A friend of mine was furnishing a new apartment from scratch, and putting the entire balance on credit. (She didn’t have any cash to put towards the purchase.)
As she stood at the counter doing the paperwork for her new account, she thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice if they lost the paperwork and I got all this for free?” It wasn’t even an intention, just a brief moment of letting herself enjoy the thought of getting all this wonderful new furniture for free.
Several weeks later when she hadn’t received any payment instructions in the mail, she called the company. Which was tricky to do, since they’d been recently bought out or management had changed in some way.
But when she tracked down the new folks in charge, they couldn’t find any trace of her purchase. They had no account of her as a customer at all.
She phoned again the following month to give it another try, but after they still had no record of any more that she owed, she decided to gratefully and gleefully accept this gift from the Universe.
My friend Susan is the person in my life (well, one of the two, I guess) who gets to hear all my spiritual stuff–and I get to hear hers, too. The other day, I was telling her how well things were going overall, especially considering that sometimes having two kids feels like you’re in a war zone where bombs are going off in the distance all around you and even though they don’t often land right nearby, you’re completely unable to escape the area. Those are the moments you can feel the PTSD coming on and you wonder if anything that is happening in your brain right now is permanent.
Anyway … So, I was telling Susan that in spite of some not-so-great moments, having two kids is really pretty cool, and altogether I feel pretty sane. “But I wish I had just two hours of alone time at night. That would be the best thing ever.”
And then, just because she is like that, Susan said something like this: “You mean you have a belief that you don’t have two hours of alone time at night.”
And I said, “Yeah, that’s right. I wonder why I have that belief.”
Then I went on with my day.
The following week, I dropped my first son’s nap. Ever since then, he has gone to bed three hours earlier. Of course, I didn’t notice the coincidence until I saw Susan a few days later.
As a mother of young sons, I was seeking balance in my life. I wanted it to be on my terms and not dictated by when I could get out of the house, the schedule of the day spa and/or my husband’s availability to take over childcare while I was away “doing something just for me.” Meditation was a thing I had heard a lot about and I wanted to go there, explore that and make that the focus of my “me” time.
Meditation is something I can do anytime, anywhere. It requires no special equipment. It’s simply me and my body and my mind. Simple does not necessarily mean easy. We have minds busy with chatter. We can and do often become swept away with the parade of thoughts that disrupt us – an inner sense of peace is swallowed up by all those thoughts we think.
Reading up on meditation, I knew it was a way for me to master my thoughts, use my mind as a servant instead of making it my master and create the inner space to allow that peace in. Kids are a source of chaos both internally and externally. We berate ourselves with all the comparisons between ourselves and other parents and our kids and other kids. We also look around to our environments and see things out of place. Toys needing to be picked up, kids wanting to play with objects that are not intended for small hands and a gazillion other ways our external landscapes are thrown into chaos with tiny ones in our lives.
None of this is wrong. Kids will be kids! They need outlets of play for their personal development and I for one did not want to stifle their budding personhoods through my own insecurities and inability to deal with them. After recognizing the benefits of meditation, I set in place the intention to make it a part of my life. I did not know how I would do it, when or where it would happen. I made the declaration of wanting meditation to be a part of my existence and let God do the rest.
Soon enough, I noticed how Oliver would fall asleep in the buggy on our way home from dropping William off at preschool. I took that opportunity to sit in the garden of a park near my home and simply practice breathing. If the weather was too cold or rainy for that, I would roll Oliver into the house still in his buggy and just sit while he slept.
If I was in the car while children were sleeping, I would stay there in the driveway after we arrived home and do nothing other than close my eyes and breathe. I would practice meditation for durations of 2 minutes through to an hour or more.
It was a miraculous “noticing” of space in my life. Whenever I could meditate, I suddenly had the inspiration to do so. It was marvelous how these moments came with precision and regularity. It did not have to be at the same time every day or for the same amount of time. What had shifted in me was the awareness of those moments existing: moments when it was possible, doable, to meditate.
Meditation for me has expanded into a lifelong habit. I meditate now as a way of being. I take time every day to sit quietly and watch my breath internally. I also use meditation as a form of presence. When I am with someone – that is a meditation! It is a meditation of presence, of BE-ing with that person, listening to them and responding from a place of spontaneity. I no longer think what to say ahead of time. I sit with a person in a state of presence-meditation.
When I do the dishes, it is my “dishes meditation” time. I do the dishes with presence. I wash them as if this were the greatest meditation ever. I love the dishes as I clean them. I am with them as a lover. It’s the same with the laundry. I just do the laundry like I would if I were sitting cross-legged in a room of meditation students. Wherever I go, whatever I am doing, I practice it as a meditation. Life is a meditation to me now. It is no longer separate activity from the rest of my life. All of life is calm and meditation.
Of course, there is still noise in my life. With 4 young boys how could there not be? However, my intention of creating life as the meditation makes it easy for the calm to stay inside. I still go off and sit by myself from time to time to regroup and restore an inner sense of balance. I have a chair that is specifically placed in my bedroom for my quiet meditation times. I sit on the floor and focus on beautiful objects that are pleasing to me. I stay in the car when I am able and breath while the baby continues to sleep.
All of these things I do as a habit because meditation is important to me. It’s one of the greatest, if not the greatest, priority of my life. Above caring for my kids, being there for my husband or taking care of personal hygiene I intend the peace meditation brings me. When peace is taken care of, all those other things fall into place so easily and effortlessly. I have noticed how easy my life is and with what grace I am gifted every day. I have peace as a core value. I arrive there through vigilant adherence to the intention that meditation is in my life every day. Then I wait for the opportunities to “pop up” and I take them, I act on them, I do as I am guided and I notice how often it is there is that space for what I desire.
You too can make something a part of your life that you desire. Whether it is more time for meditation or something else, there is something powerful in the intention. Then, it is up to you to notice and act on what is opening up in front of you. Be very open. You will be surprised at how many ways The Universe brings you what you desire.
I don’t often eat junk food. (For me, a bowel of Raisin Bran is an indulgence.) However, after having my third baby, Jack, in a difficult delivery, then seeing him head straight to the NICU for a four-day stay (he’s fine, thankfully), I decided a little treat was in order.
I’m going to buy myself a Snicker’s bar, I thought. Or not. We’ll see if I get around to it.
The next day, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before: a candy dish by the front counter of the maternity ward, and in it several miniature Snickers bars. Well, it has to be a sign, I thought.
