The Abundance Abounds!

I just wanted to write a quick thing in celebration of all the abundance that's been springing forth lately! It's amazing how switching to a relentless vibration of abundance has truly transformed my situation, just in the last couple weeks.

I have already successfully attracted over $1000 from freelance writing jobs since the new year began. That's insane! I've been enjoying the work tremendously as well, as it keeps me busy and revitalizes me, filling me with a new sense of purpose. Mike is also attracting money just about every day through his endeavors, resulting in weekly checks. Aaaand, drum roll please, the situation with Terrence Sanders is finally over. Last week I was extremely pleased to receive an apologetic email from him--simple, straightforward, and all I could hope for--along with the $100 check a few days later. I can't say I was too surprised because I knew I had opened a flood gate of energy when I wrote my exposé of him. Those few days before I'd received the email, I honestly had released all attachment to actually receiving the money. The only thing that mattered was that I had fulfilled my responsibility of using my words to spread the truth. Three days later, there's the check. That's a little more than a coincidence, don't you think?

I recently signed up for the WIC program (Women, Infants, and Children), which somewhat eases my grocery bills with a set of monthly coupon checks. To those who are unfamiliar with the program, it is a federal and state-funded nutrition program which provides vouchers for specific foods (bread, milk, cheese, peanut butter, produce, etc.) to pregnant and nursing mothers as well as families with young children. The vouchers only add up to like $50 a month, but it's something. I got twice the food the other day for half the price. The program emphasizes nutritious foods (I was pleased to learn you can only buy whole wheat or whole grain bread), which I believe makes it far more effective at securing a fairly nutrient-rich diet than just handing out food stamps, which are utilized far too often for Oreos and ice cream. Point being: I am abundant in good food!

These are just a couple examples of the influx of abundance that has come into our lives in such a short time, and I like to reiterate to everyone, including myself, my feelings of gratitude. That's what's making it all happen, after all, switching my gears to appreciating the abundance instead of focusing on the pain of what I don't have.

Now we can finally renew our car registration (for an exorbitant price) and buy a new muffler (it needs one desperately). Thank you, Universe! Keep it coming!

WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA STEAL DIS PHRASE?

It's been the most glorious week for New Orleans fans everywhere. Even Mike, who's trapped in the frigid-don't-know-nuttin-bout-no-spice-north, can't stop watching videos of secondlines on Bourbon St. and wishing he were back in his hometown to celebrate this inaugural moment in history: the Saints are headed to the Superbowl. Of course everyone knows that by now, but no one knows it better than New Orleanians. Since 1967 Saints fans have loved and honored their football team--for rich or for richer, through injuries and in health, through wins and through losses (many, many losses), as long as they all shall live. But this year the Saints and their fans are joyously experiencing something they've never experienced before: a seemingly divine and unstoppable success.

And the mantric chant that has accompanied both that success and preceding failures has been preciously linked to the New Orleans Saints and their fans since...forever, it seems: "WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS? WHO DAT? WHO DAT?!" Though history may have some absolute reality on when the phrase originated and when the Saints took it on, it is now inextricably integrated into New Orleans culture. But in the last few days the corporate cyborg that is the NFL has had something to say about that, resulting in a tense custody battle.

The NFL recently claims to have "patented" the rights to 'Who Dat' and have subsequently countered local New Orleans novelty shops for selling clothing and other merchandise which displays the legendary phrase or even the iconic fleur-de-lys symbol. They've begun issuing cease and desist orders to small business owners all over the city. However, the acquisition of these rights have not really gone through yet, especially since the Saints do already own two fleur-de-lys design registrations, and it's not just the NFL that's trying to claim rights to the phrase. Indeed there already is a WhoDat?, Inc., founded by Sal and Steve Monistere, who recorded the famous chant in 1983 and have been marketing it, quietly, ever since. Personally, I do not believe the fleur-de-lys itself can be bought by anyone, since it has ancient origins and is utilized all over the world.

What pisses me off, and obviously New Orleanians as well, is that this has been theirs for so long. The Saints have been theirs, even when they were the 'Aints' for so long. And now that the team is a renowned success, everybody wants a part of them. Everyone wants to jump on the Superbowl bandwagon and make a quick buck (like commercial whore Peyton Manning who does Oreo ads--you are so going down next weekend!). But New Orleans does not care about that. The city just vibrates an enormous sense of pride, no matter what happens. Saints fans don't run for the hills because of a terrible season, they run back faster the next year! They don't go to sleep during a game and "find out the score in the morning" (ahem, *cough* Patriots fans)! Local shops have always sold Who Dat merchandise because Saints fans buy them, wear them proudly, and deserve them. And for a city that's just getting back on its feet, the economic advantages of producing and buying locally are obvious. I like to think that even if the Saints weren't associated with the NFL, whatever hinky backyard football team out there with New Orleans jerseys would be embraced and passionately supported by the city. But the big truck/Bud beer/badass military-sponsored NFL has not hesitated in trying to exploit New Orleans for all it's worth. For a corporation whose annual profits exceed $300 billion, that's just plain shitty to try to take something so precious from a city that's already lost so much. But let's be reminded it is a corporation, not a person. Despite what the Supreme Court just ruled, corporations are not people and do not serve humane interests.

I say, for now, that New Orleans shop owners do not legally need to adhere to the corporate bullying that has already begun. There has been an impressive uproar in the Who Dat Nation in opposition to this ludicrous development, and Sal and Steve Monistere have been speaking up for their trademark as well. New Orleans does not keep quiet and does not bow down to Expensive Suits just because they come in with their White-Man-Conquering-You-Now attitude. The simple truth is that 'Who Dat' is not the NFL's to authorize one way or another, and if the city of New Orleans has anything to say about it, which it does, it never, EVER will be.

Pathetic, At Best

We already know the things we cannot trust in life: politicians, the news, reality TV, Radiohead to play a public concert in the US anytime soon...but now our employers? As I sit contemplating whether or not it is at all sophisticated to smear the good name of a renowned local entrepreneur, I am immediately inspired by MSNBC's Keith Olbermann's recent attacks on Massachusetts Senator-Elect Scott Brown, which describe him as a "homophobic, racist, reactionary...supporter of violence against women..." you know the rest. And that was merely on speculation! Well, I've decided, yes, it is a good idea to publicly broadcast my perspective on this man, who has personally and professionally wronged me, and who may potentially screw someone else over. Terrence Sanders, editor of a local New Orleans publication, ArtVoices magazine, has proven to me over the last five months that he does not know the meaning of respect for or communication with his employees. I can only imagine how often this happens to freelancers, and I'd like to shed some light on my experience, which I hope will prompt freelancers everywhere to secure their professional approach.

This all started last June, way back in 2009, when I went to an art opening in a gallery-laden district of downtown New Orleans. It was a small gathering with some very interesting work and copious amounts of free vodka. It was there that I met Terrence Sanders, a sort of "big cheese" in the New Orleans art world as the editor of the successful and respected ArtVoices magazine. After a few drinks I was feeling pretty confident and quite aware of my empty wallet, so I approached him about a writing job. I told him I could write about anything; though confident in my writing skills I was honestly a bit apprehensive about the technical aspects of the fashion and art world! After some chit-chat he got my phone number and said he would call me. When our conversation ended I left him alone so as to not annoy him, though I hung around so he would at least remember who I was after waking up with a vodka hangover. Later on in the evening as he chatted up my friend Colleen in a side room, who was also there in hopes of acquiring some sort of work (or just working it, I'm not sure), I sat down on the bright white couch and joined the two of them, followed by my boyfriend, Mike. We were all a bit tipsy and Terrence was standing over the three of us, a looming figure in whom I saw the potential to get my foot in the door. A thrill at the time! I don't remember much of what undoubted bullshit was said, but I do remember this from Terrence's mouth: "I didn't go to college...I had to build what I wanted from scratch...the two main keys to success are do good work and don't fuck anybody over!" Those ironic words would reverberate in my head with sardonic laughter in the ensuing months.

Imagine my delight when just a week later he texted me with an assignment for his new magazine, Turnstile. A pre-assignment, I suppose it was: "What is Fashion?" I sort of scoffed, but once I got to writing it flowed quite naturally, and I reevaluated my confidence. I could do this. I could write about fashion, even though I had long since stopped caring about much of the superficiality of it. I would write for an established magazine. After I sent the short paragraph he requested, he emailed another assignment: an open editorial. Again, once I finished this assignment, he didn't mention it again and didn't say what he would do with it. But finally, he assigned an actual job: an interview with a local photographer. Yes! I'd never done an interview before, not since some Student Council thing in middle school, but I immediately got to work on formulating questions. I was dead set on doing an impressive job. It finally occurred to me to inquire about payment, as Terrence had not said anything, but this was a real assignment now to be published, so I'd better find out, right? After an awkward delay, Terrence got back to me that I would be paid $100.

When I met the photographer, Mark, for our interview at an uptown coffeeshop, it all went wonderfully. I tried not to let off that this was my first professional job, though that fact simmered beneath the surface. I brought my video camera for accuracy, and we got to talking comfortably. He was a very nice guy, and I really wanted to bring to light the literal darkness in his photography. I didn't know how many times he'd been interviewed, if at all, but I had a strong desire to showcase who he was as an artist. I understood that that was my responsibility as the writer, not to just ask questions and document the answers. Later on at home I edited the interview down from 6000 to 1000 words. It was painstaking, but I was extremely satisfied at the end. I sent it to Terrence cheerily and did not even receive word that he'd received the file until I asked him for confirmation.

A few weeks later, at the end of August, I participated in a fashion show for a local designer, which was amazing. I caught up with Mark outside who immediately commended me for my work, which had been sent to him for accuracy. He said I actually "got him." That was an incredible reward. Using only 1/6 of what he'd said, I could have made him sound like a real boner. I was elated that he appreciated my portrayal of him, which I assumed to be quite rare in the media.

After a bit more time I was wondering about the payment, so I contacted Terrence. He wrote back that he does not pay his employees until the week of publication, and that would not be until the second or third week of September. I was broke and sort of upset that he had not mentioned this stipulation at the beginning, but what could I do? I put it out of my mind until September.

By the end of the third week of September, I had not only received no word from Terrence but had recently discovered I was pregnant, and my boyfriend and I had decided to move out of Louisiana and up north to reconnect with my friends. I was sick with fetus, sick of the heat, and sick of being broke! I inquired to Terrence about my check and informed him that I was moving out of state and would like to receive payment before that happens so as to make it less sticky for everyone. He updated me that publication had been pushed back until the first week of October, and he does not make exceptions. I started to see the interesting loophole he'd created for himself. Well, we already had our plane tickets, and I was melting, so we took a leap of faith and left.

This went on for three more months. Every month I would have to email him, wondering why the deadline had passed and I had not received my check or any notification, and he would push back the issue release another month. But eventually he knew he couldn't stave me off much longer and began promising me that he was sending it: "You'll have your check by next week," "I'm sending it out this week," "you'll have it by the end of the month." By the time December rolled around and I was still empty-handed, I started to get cranky. Despite my growing frustration I did not want that to come off in our correspondence. I scrutinized my word choices meticulously, careful not to appear angry, crazy, or just plain rude, but I held true to the main points to be addressed: Why did he promise to send the checks when he knew he did not intend to? Why doesn't he just send the check so I will get off his back? A hundred dollars is a delightful trip to the grocery store for a pregnant woman--I want my money! Why won't he communicate with me clearly and tell me what's really going on? However professionally I worded my emails, however, he shot back that I should be ashamed of myself for disrespecting him, such an important man, and for having the "audacity" to come to him with my "problems." My problem was his behavior, so yes, I most certainly came to him with that complaint. His true colors were shining through, loud and clear.

I finally contacted Mark about the magazine, if he knew anything about the publication, since I could never find any information about Turnstile online. I had no evidence of its existence at all. He responded that he had seen the layout, but indeed the launch of the magazine had been pushed back to January. I thanked him for the confirmation, but then it dawned on me that this was the launch of Turnstile--no wonder I could never find anything about it! I wrote to Terrence and asked him why he had never just explicitly told me that this was the first issue. I even conceded and admitted humbly that I understood how the launch of a new magazine could get pushed back. Why hadn't he told me? But now there was no reason to delay, the issue was coming out, and I would definitely get paid.

He responded, by now late in December, that he claimed to have sent me the check two weeks earlier. Confused and once again suspicious, I reported that I'd never received it, so we agreed it must have been "lost in the mail." I had no reason to believe him, but I implored him to cancel the check and send me another. After a couple weeks of going back and forth about who's going to pay the $30 cancellation fee, I conceded and said I would pay for it if he sent me the receipt for the canceled check, along with the issue of the magazine. The least he could do is send me the work I did in exchange for all this crap! He surprisingly responded that he would pay the fee and I would have my check by the end of the week of January 18, if only this would end. I received no word that he had sent the check, and of course no check by Friday, so I sent another inquiring email. He did not respond. Downright angry, I emailed him again, this time threatening to expose his distasteful business practices if he did not actually send the check this time. This is honestly the first time I have threatened him with public disclosure, and apparently he did not appreciate it. He wrote me back quickly--allow me to quote him accurately: "I don't know why I even entertain you but your threats are pathetic to even think anyone cares what you have to say anyway is evn more pathetic. Who are you and what have you done to even compare yourself to me. As I said before your checks in the mail and get a life. I'm not sending you your pathetic $100 because you're threatening me I'm sending it to get your negative energy off of me. I will register your address with SPAM so there will be no further correspondence. I can't believe I even hired you after you begged me to write an article which is mediocre at best. Good luck with all your future endeavors you're going to need it. Best Regards"

No, I am not pathetic. And the work I did for him was superb. What's pathetic is not paying a pregnant woman a measly $100 that she earned, simply because she asks questions. I will not just roll over as he tries to screw me. Eww. The important thing is that he is the employer, a dastardly one at that, and for me to have to badger him for even a response or some notice on the status of due compensation is unacceptable. Furthermore, for him to insult me for pursuing my rights in the matter is completely repugnant and unethical.

Perhaps no one does care what I say, but there's nothing more pleasing to me in this moment than making some attempt to let others know what really goes on behind some pseudo-philanthropic doors. All freelancers must be very clear in their expectations of payment and treatment by their employers. This editor's disrespect is unwarranted, his arrogance unparalleled. What have I done to "compare myself to him?" Dear God, I hope nothing comes close!

If I Ran a Rehab...

Whilst watching the latest episodes of "Celebrity Rehab" on VH1 I've become inspired to comment. I know this is reality TV, which is usually anything but, but it's triggered the over-analytical health nut in me.

There are several things just strange about this recovery center Dr. Drew runs. Mike Starr, one of the sort-of celebrity patients receiving treatment there, is obviously having some problems. Physically, he's going through a harrowing detox from heroin, methadone, and cocaine. That sucks to begin with. Dr. Drew encourages the physical detox to transpire completely before the heavy psychological treatment comes in, which is agreeably wise because who wants to talk about his head when it's pounding and screaming and the body is likewise incomparably pissed off? But a major problem Mike is having alongside his physical torment is a resentment and agitation at the TV cameras. Granted, he signed on for this and probably contractually agreed (and perhaps was paid?) to be broadcast during one of the more horrific experiences of his life. That was his initial decision, but now he's stuck and detoxing and really angry. He expresses this through a mixture of verbal aggression and antisocial behavior, just pacing the grounds unresponsively with headphones.

What I wonder is what else could he be doing to take his mind off of his agony? Is there an exercise room? Maybe just running on a treadmill or lifting weights would release some of the pain and stagnant energy in his system. It really looks like he needs to just move his body. It's clear he's trying to do this by the constant walking and pacing. Of course we all know exercise, getting the blood pumping, increases endorphins and therefore feelings of well-being. Another thing is: he's a musician. He was the bassist for the band Alice in Chains until he was kicked out for his disruptive drug use (guess they didn't kick out frontman Lane Staley because he died from heroin!). Maybe Mike would like to play his damn bass. He has mentioned a few times on camera that he wants to get clean so he can perhaps join another band. Maybe he needs a push to just pick up his instrument again and see what it has to tell him. Seems like a productive suggestion for spending this awful time.

Instead of encouraging constructive behavior in Mike, Dr. Drew and the staff continue to simply express concern over his aggression, surround him obnoxiously, try to force engagement, and consider sending him to a psychiatric hospital. What the hell, this is REHAB! That's what happens. Of course people get angry. People get sick. The cameras showed Mike throwing up in the middle of the night, as ya do when you're completely withdrawing from opiates, and showcased the ensuing madness the morning after. Dr. Drew's assistant, Shelly (I don't know what her title is), discovers the vomit and is totally disgusted. She begins by spraying copious amounts of air freshener into the room (yes, let's spray synthetic chemicals into the air and trigger more nausea), then continues to act like a college girl whose roommate is passed out and has puked on herself. Like this is the first puke she's ever cleaned up. She carries on getting grossed out and complains about how grossed out she is. If Mike weren't so apathetic and scathing, he might be embarrassed by the incident. That's a nice feeling to generate in the recovering patients. But really, doesn't this "celebrity rehab" have orderlies? Cleaning staff? Lower rung staff members paid to clean up the accidents that inevitably happen when the body experiences utter turmoil?

But here's where it gets sticky. When Shelly conducts a sort of NA meeting, she begins by introducing herself as Shelly, an alcoholic. An addict. This is how she identifies herself. She then asks another patient if he is an addict and he wholeheartedly agrees. She then gets to Mike and asks, "are you powerless?" He complies. She seems satisfied. She asks the same question to Heidi, the methed out Madam. She also acquiesces that she "cannot stop" and "does whatever she wants." The first questions I would have asked any of these people are "Have you ever truly wanted and tried to quit abusing drugs?" and "How do you see yourself? Where does your power lie?" I suppose one of the main credos in chemical dependency rehabilitation is the admittance of addiction, admitting the problem, and then aiming to fix it. While I agree that you must recognize there is overwhelming negativity attached to the destructive behavior, I do not agree that addicts must continue to be addicts all their lives. "Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic." This affirms the undesired behavior and identifies the individual as the addiction, an inescapable fact, ignoring the fact that they do still have power, it is just directed toward the drug use. How much attention is given to empowering those things that could make them well? This is why I believe so many rehab programs simply do not work. People come in believing they are not addicted, though they may physically appear that way, and come out of rehab conditioned to think that that is EXACTLY what they are. Like there is nothing in their lives more important than focusing on that lingering addiction. Then when they are confronted with substances again, they let themselves fall prey because that is what they are: mere prey to the demons. I wholeheartedly believe people can change if they choose to, and there is always something more positive to affirm than that which they are trying to escape.

Lisa D'Amato is an example of this. The former "America's Next Top Model" contestant and self-proclaimed party girl does not see herself as an addict until the good doctor tells her she is one. There is a conversation between herself and Heidi where she says she never turns down drugs, though she has in the past, but "what the fuck, why not [do them]?" Heidi seems shocked that she "can't say no." Well, she's a young model in southern California who loves to party. Go figure. In Hollywood, it's not news to anyone that drugs are extremely accessible to a person such as herself. The status associated with being given expensive drugs would go to anyone's head. It doesn't seem hard to acclimate to that lifestyle if that's what you live in. But just because she never turns down cocaine doesn't mean she needs to go to rehab, that means cocaine is a fun drug for people who are into talking nonsense and dancing with other famous people. I did the same thing when I was 18 (minus the celebrities). My first year out of high school, out from under my mother's watch, for a time I took to snorting coke daily. I never turned it down either because those 25 minutes of f-u-n were too tempting to pass up. Basically, if you regularly do coke, you do not turn it down. But after about four months I was over it, over the physical desperation and awkward nights up by myself with a tiny white bag, over the exhaustion, and over the drainage in my wallet. I chose to pursue a different hobby, and now look at me: I'm about to have a baby and cherish green salads and knitting.

It seems like these people are just waiting for someone or something else to take responsibility for them. "I'm powerless, I'm an addict, I can't help it." Maybe being a celebrity with a drug problem is different from my experience. Maybe enduring significant childhood abuse makes it more difficult to choose well-being for oneself. But who hasn't experienced some sort of abuse? We are abused every day by our families, our governments, our neighbors, and ultimately ourselves.

If I ran a rehab, I would not designate addiction to anyone. I would designate wellness to all, and aim above everything else for that, whether that be through physical comfort, psychological support, or spiritual wholeness. Rehabilitation should be about affirming the positive, affirming wellness, affirming that which the person wants to be. If that person still wants to be an addict and vibrates that desire, it is so. If the person truly wants to be well, support must be available to provide that person with the tools necessary to achieve wellness. That means getting rid of the idea of permanent addiction, eternal weakness, not writing it across their forehead so they never forget it and sending them hopefully on their way.

Round and Round

Well, what an abundant day yesterday is! I attracted some money through a quick gig, which completely reenergized me. If only for three hours, I had a purpose! I checked our Craigslist's email Sunday night and found a response from a woman needing a story typed. Easy as pie. I called her straightaway and arranged to meet her in Boston the next day (Monday) at 2:00 to pick up the photocopied story. She just needed it typed and emailed to her so she would have it in her computer, as she is a writer, yet a slow typist, and is including the story in...come to think of it, I never asked. And she even bought me a hot chocolate near the T station. Damn. But she paid me first thing and trusted me to send her the story by Wednesday. By 5:00 I was emailing her the finished product. She says she'll recommend me to any friends who need help as well. Awww swell!

Anywho, I got a life-saving $45 out of the deal, which not only paid our car insurance in the nick of time but also got us a quick trip to the grocery store. That little boost gave us both a shot of confidence and faith. I am so grateful for the opportunity to eat and drive another day! I could do that 1000 times, and looky there, I'd have $45,000. Not so hard.

A short while after my last post on Sunday night (before the job email) I really started to lose it, and my eyes burned red from the constant flow of tears. Mike really didn't know what to do, so I hobbled upstairs where Mom and Peter were eating dinner. I just stood there silently for a moment and stumbled into the kitchen. Mom asked if I was feeling well and followed me. It took me a couple minutes to regain composure. When I'm falling apart sometimes just being in the presence of my mom allows me to completely let go emotionally. We talked it through, my feelings of utter purposelessness and boredom ripping me apart. But it's more than just boredom, I explained it to Mike as if the Universe has forgotten us down here in this cave, and I have no idea where to go to be seen anymore. She was completely supportive and made suggestions I agreed with. It was a refreshing, necessary conversation. Maybe I just needed to connect with my mother after feeling so much disconnect. Maybe the first step in reminding the Universe to see me was reminding my mom.

And one last tidbit: I've made a penny off this blog, too! Mike loves to check stats, and he noticed I have successfully earned one cent from the Google ads on the side there. I honestly hadn't even noticed them, but I guess someone reading did. Thanks a lot! Keep it up!

Short but sweet. See ya later.

Rollercoaster

Woo, yesterday was a rollercoaster of emotion, intention, and being. Mike and I have been scouring Craigslist the last week or so desperately in search of some work, ideally outside this house. Mike's got his internet thing all set up, but he wants a steady, outside job to keep his mind off of his click statistics, not to mention reel us in some steady income. I be hungry! I want a hobby, a job, something to keep me productive and prevent insanity from setting in. Sitting in this house day in, day out makes me crazy, like I'm in a black hole where depression and anxiety dig deep and quickly. I went to a dance class in Boston a few weeks ago, but it became financially impractical when I realized it cost almost $30 to get there, pay for the class, and get back. There's an audition for some sort of choir tomorrow, but the spring concert is two weeks after the baby's due date. Even if I were decorating the baby's room, physically preparing in some way it would be okay, but there's nothing to do right now. As of yet we have no crib, no shelves, no furniture, nothing to put the dozens of outfits I received at the shower on. So, I look to the outside.

It's a challenge for me to formulate in my mind what I want to do because I'm constantly met with things that I cannot or definitely do not want to do. There seem to be hordes of jobs for the qualified, which I am not. One thing we both know we do not want to do is work in restaurants. I've done enough of that, and it's hardly a job for a nearly seven month pregnant woman. The running around, sweating, stressful backbreaking duties are hardly worth the minimum wage. And all the time I am met with my own limiting belief that "no one is going to hire a pregnant woman who is going to quit in two months." And really, isn't that generally true? Although when I worked at Domino's all those years ago, this heavily pregnant, Marlboro-sucking woman started work on my last day. I told her I didn't approve of her smoking and forgot all about it, but I suppose that sort of thing does happen.

One thing I can do is write. It's a perfect job for me, as it usually pays well, and I don't have to worry about any painful labor until the baby comes. Unfortunately I have had a bad experience with a so-called "professional" magazine editor already ("hey, let's just not pay her!"), but I'm not letting that deter me from working with people again. Now what I'm going to do with those violated trust issues, I don't know. Gandhi says even if a man betrays you 70 times, you should trust him 71 times. I imagine he means you should trust him infinitely. Well, I'm not Gandhi, and taking advantage of freelancers pisses me off!

But of all the ads we have responded to, we either get no response or one response and silence thereafter. This is entirely frustrating to both of us. What are we doing wrong? Honestly! What are we vibrating that turns the Universe off so much? Some crackheads have jobs, why don't we? We's good people, and we really do work hard. Fuck!

At some point mid-day I was attempting to post a "writer for hire" ad on Craigslist when Allison turned on the TV, and I grudgingly dragged the computer into our bedroom to write in silence. Mike was breathing cross-legged on the bed. Just as I had my ad worded to perfection the computer froze. I closed my eyes and felt the blood pump faster in my veins. I don't know how long it took for the machine to start back up, it could have been 10 minutes, but I tried it again. Just as before, the page froze as I neared completion. I closed my eyes again, Mike tsked and slid the computer onto his lap, as he loves to take care of these things. I felt his frustration and expectation that I was about to freak out, which I was, but I just kept my eyes closed softly and breathed iiiiiin and ooooouuuut. The blood was still pumping hard and fast, daring me to snap, but I didn't dare even open my eyes. I squeezed two single tears out from beneath my gently rested eyelids and continued to breathe. Mike clicked and clicked, I knew nothing was working, but the more I stayed still the weaker his frustration became. I had two choices: open my eyes, say something destructive and proceed to slam around the house damning my luck and life and the goddamn Universe, or remain silent and let it just pass by. The former option was still teetering on the brink of transpiring, like an aching sweet tooth. I let two more tears fall.

After a few minutes of this my blood pressure went back down, and I didn't necessarily want to throw the computer against the wall, but I thought it best to stick with it just in case. Just to see what happens. Very rarely had I ever had the patience to stay inside a meditation, as I guess I'd never truly been in one. Never a necessary one at least! Mike, for some reason, offered me the computer again once he'd gotten it straightened out, and I quietly but emphatically declined. Cha! Right! Like I'd want to start the whole process over again! He didn't try to speak to me again after that, though he did continue to clack the computer keys right next to me, which brought up annoyance. When this continued to bother me, I unhesitatingly went back to the breath, but when that wasn't working very well I started doing the Alternate Nostril Breathing exercise. I don't have the desire to describe it here, so just google it, it's good. That exercise immediately brought me back to my breath awareness--it kind of had to, my nose had some snot in it, and if I wanted to get the oxygen in and out effectively, I had to pay attention to it. After a few minutes of this I went back to normal breathing, and I noticed I felt strange, like drunk or drug strange. I quickly acknowledged that it seemed like my head was tilted to the left side, like when you fall asleep on an airplane. I didn't dare open my eyes to check, but it soon got weirder. Not only was my head tilted to the side, but I felt like I was scrunched up, sitting in bed like a distorted midget with its head tilted to the side. Such a bizarre sensation! Then my eyes seemed to get closer to the darkness ahead of them, like my eyeballs were not just observing it, but they were a part of the darkness behind the eyelids. And the computer! That damn computer again! I became super aware of it, like it was sitting right next to my head, motor whirrrrring my brains out. At this I was still very annoyed with Mike for continuing to use it next to me when I was obviously in quite the state.

Shortly thereafter I lost the awareness and came out of the meditation, but what a ride that was! I told Mike all about it after I'd gotten my head back, including how I never want to see or hear a computer again during a meditation. If he notices me breathing with my eyes closed, get that thing away from me! It felt good that I had conquered the anger and turned it into a positive experience, but then I started musing and the questions and tears flowed. "What is the blockage here? Why are we not attracting what we want? I don't know how to fix the problem if I don't know what it is." It seems like I've made plenty of room in my life for financial abundance. There's room in my wallet for a stack of 100s! There's room in the fridge for good food! I feel like I have made room in my life for abundance to come in, but it continues to stay just out of reach.

I am as optimistic and positive as I can be, but the negativity and fear still creep in. And that's normal, isn't it? So what if I'm not following all the rules of effective manifestation? Now it seems like if I have one negative thought it cancels out all the positivity I have cultivated. Before I even knew about the Law of Attraction my life was great! I trusted that I would always have the things I had always had, and more, but suddenly just knowing about the power causes it to slip away. What kind of bullshit is that?? Maybe I'm forcing it, maybe I think about it too much. I don't know where the perfect medium is. But how am I not supposed to think about it when my cupboards are empty and the insurance payment approaches? How am I supposed to remain positive when I see voids everywhere???

Vibration of Abundance

Okay, so yesterday was a very charged post, but today is much lighter, I assure you. First of all let me say I feel kind of embarrassed about the last blog, and it's probably because I'm feeling a little guilt over just laying our family woes out on the cybertable for everyone to see (yes, my zero humble followers). I also feel some guilt because when Mom and Peter arrived home from their dinner out, she seemed much more connected and vibrant than I've seen her in a long time. Peter's daughter came over with her two kids, and Mom was totally into it, paging through garden books with the little girl on the couch. It was strange that I attracted the opposite vibration I was putting out, or did I? Perhaps underneath my surface frustration my vibration was a positive one, a hopeful one. Whatever it was I felt guilty for even saying those things about her. After Peter's daughter left, Mom continued to engage in conversation until she stepped out to the porch for a cigarette. Despite this blip in my expectations, I maintain that yesterday's post is an accurate portrayal of my thought and feeling process in that moment, and I can't take that back. Every family has problems, mine is no different, and they need to be expressed, if only in journal form.

So, let us continue. Little by little I've been going through a book I got for Christmas Born to Manifest because I'm really needing a boost in my manifestation skills. Today I read a chapter primarily about money, which is high on my priority list. It recommends doing a couple exercises daily, one called $10,000/day and one where you observe and celebrate all that you are abundant in. This is to get in the habit of giving off a vibration of abundance.

(Hold up, I'm confused about something, I need to work it out. They say the Law of Attraction simply brings you what you are vibrating. If you say "I want $10,000" but don't really BELIEVE you are going to get it, that vibration transcends the words you say, and you don't get it. Similarly when you say "I don't want my sister to read my diary" your sister is probably going to read your diary because you BELIEVE she really is going to read it, and also the Law of Attraction does not recognize negating words, only the vibration you put out when you say them. This explains why so often the opposite of what we are wishing and wanting to happen, particularly when using negating words, unfortunately happens. So following this model, were you to say "I don't want to make a lot of money," wouldn't you actually start making a lot of money simply because not only do you probably BELIEVE this statement but the Law of Attraction does not recognize negating words? Wouldn't the LOA simply hear "I want to make a lot of money"? Or would you continue to attract nothing because you really believe and are vibrating the same negative statement, that you won't make a lot of money? I guess when we say a negating comment, "I don't want it to rain today," we're vibrationally believing the positive statement "It will rain today," therefore it rains. The 'don't' is a futile attempt to trick ourselves out of a bad experience. In this case BAD = POSITIVE STATEMENT: "it will rain today," "I have to go on food stamps," "my wife will leave me." But when the positive statement is one that we as humans have been conditioned to believe will NOT and CANNOT happen to us, when we wish for the positive statement "I want $10,000," we're really BELIEVING "I will never get $10,000," which is a stronger vibration than the positive words stated in the first sentence. It's all about vibration, not simply receiving the opposite of what we say. We're just conditioned to expect the negative; we have to consciously teach ourselves to accept that we deserve the positive. Okay, I answered my question. Thanks for your help.)

And we're back. The Vibration of Abundance. So often we can't really pull the feeling of Abundance out of a hat--what does abundance feel like? The book reminds us to recognize the moments when we feel abundant: when you get paid, when you have a kitchen full of groceries, when you're surrounded by family, when you and your partner are snuggled together in bed. The more we recognize these moments, the more the Law of Attraction will recognize these vibrations and deliver you an abundance of them! If we can give as much time to a feeling of abundance as we can, we can only receive more of that feeling. Then you can begin to direct the abundance in whatever areas of your life you want it. So today, I am very abundant in love and family: Mike is always with me, his support is all-pervasive, and I am thankful for my sisters, mother, and dog Jack, invaluable centerpieces of my life. I am abundant in friends, though they are not with me physically, they are all over the world, surrounding me in a comforting global cocoon! I am abundant in shelter with a lovely roof over my head and a warm bed to sleep in. I am abundant in television, to use as much or as little as I want, as well as all the free movies I want. I am currently abundant in some foods (haha), like bread, peanut butter, ramen noodles, eggs, greens, raspberry preserves, and tea. I am abundant in and grateful for connection with my baby and birth choices--I know I can deliver naturally and safely in whatever position I want, and I get to bring him home right after. This is unheard of for a lot of women out there!

So there, I am full of abundance. I recognize it, celebrate it, and am eager to receive more of it. Now you try it! It makes you feel good! The other exercise called $10,000/day is fun, but also kind of challenging. If you had $10,000 to spend today, what would you spend it on? You can play again tomorrow. So really you get $10,000 every day to spend on whatever you want. This was challenging for me because I started getting all up in my head and didn't know what I would spend it on. Maybe that's a block for me, why I'm not receiving an abundance of money, because it's hard for me to believe I'm going to receive it, therefore I just don't have strong intentions for it. Well, I'm working on that! Today I would go to Whole Foods and have a major shopping spree and also order bee products online. I would buy radical baby furniture and the rest of the supplies I need to prepare for his birth. Oh shit, I'd pay off my debt, too! It would only take me...three days of $10,000 to pay off my debt? So whew, glad that's gone, then once the baby is born and old enough to travel (what, three, four months?) Mike and I would buy plane tickets and head back to Hawaii. We would rent a swanky jungle house for a couple weeks while we go to the beach and scope out land to purchase. We'll of course find the perfect spot, about four acres, and then we'll hire a good friend, maybe Robert, to consult on what needs to happen next. Clear this, clear that, then start planting. Avocados, coconuts, oranges, mangoes, and the vegetable garden. Then we'll design and start building our dream jungle house. Not too far into the jungle, too many mosquitoes. Halfway between nowhere and the beach. Of course we'll become friends with our native Hawaiian neighbors so we can live peacefully. And the dream continues, but I'll work the details out myself. Now you try it!

Whewwww, I feel much better. Once you get past any blocks you have about receiving something, it plays out beautifully in your head. And if it can play out beautifully in your head, it can play out in your physical reality too. I have an abundance of confidence!

Okay, now I'm going to eat an abundance of breakfast. Love love love y'all!

Eating For More Than Just Two

Happy Saturday, it's snowing! Mike has been summoned to help Petah shovel the driveway. I guess we got about a foot during the night. It's times like these that remind me I'm thankful I have little to no obligations in the outside world, though usually I can get quite bored hibernating in here.

So for almost a week now I've been rejecting my recently indulgent eating habits and choosing more balancing ones. The motivation behind this was at first biological but has now crossed over into the mind-spirit complex, which effectively keeps me going! When I make a commitment to heal myself, I am all about that commitment, and nothing stops me until, well, I do. Allow me to clue you in from the beginning. A couple of weeks ago I noticed something's notquiteright Down Under, which frustrated me as this was the second round of infection in the last few months, and any infection can travel to the uterus and cause preterm labor. I've actually been so freaked out about this that it has continually been popping up in my everyday life through literature, websites, any pregnancy book I flip a random page in, and the recently frequent uterine contractions I've been experiencing. But I know that what I vibrate comes back to me, so this is not surprising to me, just scary. "They" say bacterial infection is especially common in pregnant women, due to hormone fluctuations and a weaker immune system, and the cure is antibiotics. I believe in the case of pregnancy, it is spurred on by an overactive appetite coupled with the mental expectation that a pregnant woman will eat anything and everything, and antibiotics are an extremely superficial treatment for an underlying problem which continues to manifest (and fester) if ignored.

I found it was quite easy for me to eat an overabundance of highly processed carbohydrates and accompanying creamy sauces (flaky biscuits and white gravy, pizza, Chinese food), dairy and sugar mixes (birthday cakes, cheesecake, Christmas cookies), and meat. Basically, your typical American holiday diet. I can't even remember the last meat craving I legitimately had, but I'd been eating it out of habit as the beef and chicken tend to reign in this household. Mike and I decidedly were over meat a couple weeks ago after a couple creepy chicken incidents, so that is little to no problem for us to say goodbye to.

All in all this diet-of-habit causes me to feel slow, heavy, and clogged, amongst other things. I literally become what I eat! I knew the infection was directly related to this overload in my system. My pee had been cloudy, which is a sign of infection, but I immediately recognized it as a Kapha imbalance (I've been studying the Ayurveda book I got for Christmas, which is fascinating in its familiarity. You know when you learn something you've probably never actually heard or read or learned before, but it makes so much sense that it's as if you're simply being reminded of it? That's what the last two weeks have been like for me: constant soul reminders supplementing my studies.). In short, Ayurveda is the ancient Indian science of self-healing with the foundation that our bodies and the food we put in them are all combinations of the five elements: Ether, Air, Water, Fire, Earth. Kapha is one of the tridosha, or three constitutions of the elements: Vata, Pitta, and Kapha. Balance is the desired state, though most everyone is a combination of two or three, with a tendency toward one. I am certainly no expert and have a lot of questions, but I am basing my current experience on what I currently feel.

I tend toward Pitta with some Kapha, but Kapha foods aggravate me very easily. Kapha foods are the heavy ones: dairy, sugar, fatty oils, the moist ones you say "ooh that's gonna weigh me down" but also "ooh that was damn good." The nature of these foods combined with my own sluggish digestive fire/system (agni) creates rancidity in my body, which I believe feeds on the moist, sugary environment I tend to provoke. Whenever I aim to stimulate my agni, it feels natural to cut out those foods which are counteractive and ingest enzymes like lemon and cayenne pepper. So, no butter, no refined or fruit sugar (only vegetable), no milky, creamy, flaky goodness--all that is associated with Home!

So what do I eat? I've always been a salad lover, so raw or steamed veggies are no problem for me, and my own olive oil-lemon-garlic dressing is perfect for stimulating my digestion and eating up the toxins. Garlic is particularly effective as an antibacterial. For a grain, since the processed wheat is largely out, I've turned to quinoa. Quinoa, considered the "gold of the Incas," is an extremely health-riddled food. It is a complete protein, meaning it contains all nine essential amino acids, and is also an excellent source of manganese, magnesium (great for migraine sufferers), and vitamin B2. That goes out to all those perplexed as to how vegetarians could possibly get protein without meat! A serving of quinoa keeps me satisfied from lunch til dinner. Unheard of for me! I just need to work on flavoring it. Hey, I'm from Minnesota, the only spice we know is salt!

I eat a couple scoops of peanut butter with a tiny dollop of raw honey for a sweet treat at night (never cooked or processed honey [so long, squeezy bear!]--honey is a perfect food in its raw form, a literal nectar, and processing unnecessarily eliminates all its healing properties and turns it into a sticky, toxic mess). For snacks I'll munch on carrots and garlic dressing or nuts. Not too many nuts or salt, they aggravate Kapha. Before I go to bed I have a cup of Yogi Mother-To-Be tea, which is satisfyingly sweet in itself after ignoring the cheesecake for a week.

And thaaat's pretty much been it. Okay, I admit, a couple nights I've eaten a package of ramen noodles for something solid to stave off the midnight munchies (I am still a pregnant human!), but fuck da packet, I flavor it myself. Even with those little speed bumps I feel great, lighter, and the infection is gone! I combine the food routine (I hate the word diet) with a nightly apple cider vinegar bath, which is the perfect balancing nightcap. But I do not want to fall back into the icky food trap because the same old shit (literally) will happen all over again. At the same time I know I must aim for balance and not reject all Kapha foods. Unless that is what balances me? I'm still not sure on a lot of the details. I wish I had my own personal Indian guy in my kitchen.

I've noticed this week that my body and baby begins to crave whatever it is I've grown accustomed to eating. I don't have wild needs for the things I ate two weeks ago that must be met; I can sensibly discern what I eat. Whereas the first two months of pregnancy I had to eat everything just to keep the nausea at bay, now is a calm, lovely time for introspection; I'm not tyrannized by my hormones. Though who knows what's to come between now and April?

I'm understanding that not everyone may tune into this like I do, and they can eat whatever the hell they've always eaten with little to no surface problems, but I am thankful my body grows more and more sensitive to what I put in it. I am so glad I have these built-in bio-spirit spark plugs! Even if I stray a certain distance, I can always come back. I'd rather change my routine when needed than allow it to eventually manifest as serious disease. Indeed I believe everyone has these internal catalysts for change, you just have to have a desire to feel them. Like Jesus.

Much love, light, and health in the New Year!