The message on the floor in the airport

Do you get messages? Weird, interesting, unusual messages? Messages that you know in your heart can only come from Spirit? I do.

Mine often come in the form of ospreys flying overhead as I walk in to speak or when I need a reminder that all is well. It seems that whenever I’m fretting about money, an osprey will fly directly over my car carrying a fish. Not just any fish. The size of the fish seems to mirror the size of my fears. Last December, the fish were enormous. To me that’s Spirit reminding me that everyone is fed, including me. I always laugh and feel blessed and sure enough, shortly after my osprey “shows me the money,” the human money arrives.

There’s another message that comes regularly. Pennies. You’ve heard the song, “Pennies from Heaven?” Well, I think, they are literally from heaven. The pennies started coming after my ex-husband died. They came in such abundance and at such odd times that I couldn’t miss the connection.

The wackiest time was the day I was in a furniture store. I’d fallen madly in love with a lime green sofa. I had just received the miracle check from my ex (the miracle story is in Writing Down Your Soul) and thought it would be lovely to have new furniture. But the sofa was shockingly expensive. So, much as I coveted it, I decided I should just buy a lamp. One lamp sitting on a desk looked interesting. I turned it on but nothing happened. So I crawled under the desk to plug it in. There in the middle of the floor under the desk was a shiny penny. I clutched it to my heart. Burst into tears. Whispered “Thank you.” And bought the sofa.

I know I can count on pennies as messages from heaven. They constantly appear on the sidewalk. They show up in my home–which is odd because I’m the only one here. The most amazing ones are the ones that show up in the car. The car that I drive all by myself. Hmmm.

Last August, BodyMindSpirit Expo invited me to speak in Raleigh. Now, the deal I have with God is I say yes. Spirit is in charge of the invitations. My job is to show up and share the joys of deep soul writing. So I say yes to an invitation and additional events always congregate around it and I’m able to make some money or at least break even on the trip. But this trip was different. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get any other invitations. This was a problem. Because BodyMindSpirit didn’t pay an honorarium. Nor did they pay travel expenses. So on my own penny (pun intended) I flew to Raleigh, stayed in a hotel and paid for the cab to the event. Oh boy!

As I got off the plane racked with doubt about my decision to come to Raleigh, I said to Spirit, “You have to give me a sign that I am OK.” The hotel van pulled up. It was immaculate. It must have just been washed and vacuumed. I was the only passenger. I sat down and put my bag on the floor. There at my foot, touching my shoe was a shiny penny. I burst into tears. The driver turned around. “I’m OK,” I said. “I’m very OK.” He had his doubts, but he drove me to the hotel.

Well, Cherry Lea, the owner of Dancing Moon Bookstore in Raleigh came to my talk, fell in love with Writing Down Your Soul and invited me back on Valentine’s weekend for not one but three events. We had a full house for each, including my first workshop on how to create your Intention Mandala.

The Intention Mandala was the last workshop I taught on Sunday afternoon. To convey the power of an Intention Mandala I waved my actual 2006 Mandala in front of the audience over and over again, telling all the magical things that happened that year. In 2006, anything and everything I wanted came to me effortlessly. In 2006 I attracted a national comun for UPI, Conari Press, a contract for Writing Down Your Soul, and even a love relationship. My 2006 Mandala was magical and I loved teaching the process so everyone can have a divinely supported year.

I headed to the airport filled with gratitude for such a luscious weekend and such a loving relationship with such a wonderful store.

I got to the airport early so I decided to treat myself to dinner–something I rarely do. As I paid the bill, I noticed a bright shiny penny on the floor in front of the only empty table. I almost didn’t pick it up. But pennies are always messages, so I pushed aside my embarassment, bent down and picked it up. A woman’s voice said, “Oh, I do that too.” I turned around and said, “Pennies are messages from my husband who passed.”

I smiled, put the penny in my pocket, and went to the ladies room. There, I took it out and really looked at it. And burst into tears. It was dated 2006. The year of the magical mandala I’d been talking about just two hours before. To me this penny was a little pat on the back from heaven saying, “Keep on teaching this. You’re on to something. We’re with you.”
As I dried my hands, I heard sniffling. I turned and the woman who had spoken to me in the restaurant was standing there sobbing. “I’m crying for you,” she said. “It’s so sad. Your husband died and it’s Valentine’s Day.” I gave her a big hug and said, please don’t cry for me. I’m completely happy and all is well. This is just a little message from him. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Yes,” I smiled. I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure.”

It didn’t hit me till I got on the plane that that evening was the first time I’d called my ex-husband my husband. I have long felt that he doesn’t like me calling him my “ex.” I’ve struggled with what to call him because legally of course he is my “ex” but the truth is our divorce was an invitation from Spirit. To go deep. To enter into divine dialogue. To open my soul to the messages stored there. It was an invitation that gave birth to Writing Down Your Soul. I am forever grateful for that invitation. So that means, I am forever grateful for my “ex-husband,” who from now on, I will call my husband. Because he was. And I know that my 2006 penny was a little thank you for acknowledging that.

That 2006 penny is precious to me. It now graces my altar. What’s on your altar? What messages have you received? How does heaven encourage you? Bless you? Comfort you?
I know your messengers are there. I know it. They are always there. We just have to open our eyes to see them, our minds to acknowledge them, our hands to receive them, and our hearts to be forever grateful.


Good Vibrations

Good vibrations image

You know that song. The second you read the title, you heard the Beach boys in your head: good good good, good vibrations! Hey, who doesn’t want THAT. Well, I was invited to be on the radio show, “Good Vibrations” in Monterey California with Solarzar and Kyralani. My job right now is to say YES so of course I said yes. And it was one of my best yesses. Solarzar and Kyralani epitomize for me the wise west. They are articulate, informed, curious, and willing to turn and look and consider and say, “hmmm, what’s that about?” In other words, they are alive. And they make me homesick for California. I’ve been on a dozen radio shows, but this is the first time a host played theta music and invited the listeners to write. If you’ve ever wondered what Writing Down Your Soul is about, really about, listen. I think you’ll love this.

Good Vibrations Radio

Then tell me, how was writing in theta for you?


Taking a soul-cation

No one is taking a vacation right now. Perhaps because they don’t have a job from which to take a break –or, even if they have a job, they don’t have enough money to leave town. Or they can’t walk away from the relentless list of all the things they should be doing.

Whatever the reason, people are either working through their “vacation,” or taking a “staycation”– the going term for the no-cost, no-go, stay-at-home one-week rest. One week at home — and we’re supposed to return refreshed and ready to plunge, once more, into the fray of business and profit.

Well, I can’t. On many, many levels, I simply can’t.

I can’t leave. I can’t spend nonexistent money for a nonexistent vacation. Yet in my own home, my own space, my own office, I can’t stop the relentless dance of research, email, twitter, and facebook. I can’t stop the necessary updates on book tour or my website or eventbrite or the newsletter. I can’t stop toying with my next book proposal or teleclass or product launch.

In a word, I can’t stop. But it’s only in stopping that I can refresh this frazzled soul.

And so I stop. Just stop. I say no. No to twitter, no to email, no to facebook, no to teaching. No to “let’s go here” or “let’s have lunch, ” or “can you talk.”

But I need so much more than just sitting home and pretending to be on vacation. From what? The job I don’t have? How silly.

So here I am in my home with the same view, the same morning paper, the same food in the frig, the same wine in the cupboard, the same books on the same shelves and the same relentless list of things to do.

But I refuse. I refuse to do the same things for the same reasons in the same schedule. OK, so I can’t travel. I can’t leave the house. So how do I take a break from the jaws of the necessary, the needful, the now?

It may not be the ideal answer. But this is the answer I’ve got. Stop. Stop and look the OTHER way.

The “other” for me is the functional, the ordinary, the necessary — like cleaning, laundry, gardening, pruning. And so, for the past 48 hrs, I’ve polished floors, pulled weeds, ironed napkins, and scrubbed the fountain.

Is this a vacation? I think so. Not in the go-to-europe sense or the pampered spa sense, but in the soul sense. At last, there are only two persons present in this house: me and my soul. I’m letting this honored guest sleep as long as she likes, read for hours on end, step outside even when it’s hot and miserable, and spend a day cooking for friends.

And she is grateful. What about you? Can you take a soul-cation? Will you?


What one poem will they read at your memorial?

The House of Belonging by David WhyteI went to a Celebration of Life memorial service for the Rev. Geri Glinski at Unity Church of Palm Harbor today. Geri was a light. And I don’t mean metaphorically. Geri glowed.

At the service, her daughter read Geri’s favorite poem, “The Road Less Travelled” by Robert Frost. Immediately I wondered, what would they be reading if this were my memorial? What poem would my family and friends instinctively know is my all-time favorite. Hafiz, of course. I’m forever reading and quoting the great Sufi mystic, Hafiz. But if they had to read just one poem, I think it would be David Whyte’s, “All the True Vows.”

When I read this poem in 1997, my marriage had disintegrated and I was desperately seeking a core, an essence, an answer that could make the chaos make sense. Reading this poem, I knew that my answer lay in writing my own “true vows.” I call it my Covenant with Spirit. And from the moment I wrote my seven vows, they began to magnetically rearrange my life. I still repeat my seven-line Covenant every day. It’s still true, and it would still kill me to break them.

All the True Vows
(from The House of Belonging)

All the true vows
are secret vows
the ones we speak out loud
are the ones we break.

There is only one life
you can call your own
and a thousand others
you can call by any name you want.

Hold to the truth you make
every day with your own body,
don’t turn your face away.

Hold to your own truth
at the center of the image
you were born with.

Those who do not understand
their destiny will never understand
the friends they have made
nor the work they have chosen

nor the one life that waits
beyond all the others.

By the lake in the wood
in the shadows
you can
whisper that truth
to the quiet reflection
you see in the water.

Whatever you hear from
the water, remember,
it wants to carry
the sound of its truth on your lips.

Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you

and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break,

that way, you’ll find
what is real and what is not.

I know what I am saying.
Time almost forsook me
and I looked again.

Seeing my reflection
I broke a promise
and spoke
for the first time
after all these years

in my own voice,

before it was too late
to turn my face again.

I, too, spoke in my own voice before it was too late. And that call, that voice, that new, personal, sacred promise created the life I now live. So, although I so want lots of mystical poetry at my celebration, lots of Rumi and Hafiz and Meister Eckhart, first and forever, there must be David Whyte.

How about you? What words have grabbed your attention, turned your head, and will not let you go? Whatever that poem or statement is, find it, print it, say it. Say it. Say it today.

And share it with us. What one poem do you want them to read at your memorial?


Even bugs are messengers

cockroach In Follow Up, the fourth step in Writing Down Your Soul, I talk about several ways to confirm or clarify your guidance. One of my favorites is to pay attention to the messages that come through animals. (p 183-185)

I was raised strict Catholic. Trust me, no nun or priest ever mentioned animals as vehicles for divine guidance. But in 1992, I took a Women’s Spiritual Empowerment class from Charlotte Starfire and my eyes were forever opened to the constant stream of messages in the air and on the land coming to me (and to everyone) in the form of animals.

Charlotte learned about the medicine, or healing messages, of animals from Sun Bear, the great Native American shaman and teacher. Since Charlotte’s class, I’ve kept my Medicine Cards close at hand and turned to them often to understand why a snake crossed my path or an osprey died a few feet from my door. I love my beautiful animal messengers and I welcome their messages.

But last night at 5:00 AM I got a new messenger and I didn’t love it at all. I was awakened by a cockroach crawling across my forehead. Instinctively, I threw it across the room and sat up in horror. I turned on the lights and pursued that thing for thirty minutes. I simply could not fall back asleep with a cockroach somewhere in my bedroom. This is Florida, and I know roaches are everywhere, but thanks to my pest control company, there’s never been a moving one in my bedroom before.

Well, this morning, when I did my deep soul writing, I asked, “What’s with the bug? If I perceive your divine messages in other more delightful animals, don’t I have to recognize the message this creature delivered, too?” It took me a few pages of writing to get the message. The bug had been on my forehead, my third eye, the seat of my knowing. So it was letting me know that I had bugs in my thinking, bugs in my programming.

And of course, it was right. I’ve been wracked with fear lately, fear about finances and fear about my son’s well-being. I desparately need to debug my programming.

“How do I do that?” I wrote. And the answer instantly appeared: “Ask the cards.” But this time, instead of going to the Medicine Cards, I went to a new deck my publicist, Jennifer Hill Robenalt, gave me when I met her in Austin: The Answer is Simple by Sonia Choquette. I love these cards. And they are, as the name implies, incredibly easy to use.
The Answer Is Simple cards
So I took a deep breath and prayerfully asked my question: “How do I debug my programming? How do I get the fear out?”

I drew three cards and laughed at the answer — and yes, it’s simple, clear and simple:

1. Say Thank You.
Suspend your fears long enough to recognize and appreciate those who are helping you. I recognized immediately that I’d been taking the small army of people who love me and my book for granted.

2. Reclaim Your Art
I didn’t even have to read this to know the answer: get back to my creativity, my writing, my love, my joy.

3. Say Yes
“The ego gets fearful…it waits until it’s absolutely sure that it will be safe before it acts. The trouble with this approach to life is the ego never feels safe, so it never acts, it reacts…. Don’t allow the ego to hold you back from the gorgeous opportunities in front of you. Take a chance and trust life as it unfolds.”

The cards perfectly diagnosed the fear “bugs” in my programming and showed me three simple steps to take to get de-bugged. I’m on it right now: I am grateful, I am writing, and I joyfully say YES! to my life’s purpose.

And so, I have to say once more to all my messengers, from the majestic birds to the creepy bugs, thank you for your words and your wisdom, your guidance and your grace. I see you. I hear you. And I learn from you. I am so blessed. And thank you to Sonia Choquette for her fabulous cards.

I am not special or unique. The animals are talking to all of us all the time. Consider this: What animal is delivering a message to you right now? What’s the animal? What’s the message? And what are you going to do with your message?


Guess we’re not journaling anymore!

Here is the third of four youtube videos produced by Bizz Buzz Video in conjunction with Jennifer Hill Robenalt of HooplaMedia when I was in Austin Texas. Man oh man, but they did a great job. Not only are the production values superb, but it was an effortless experience. When we were finished recording four of these, I said, “That’s it!?”

This video answers the question: What is the difference between journaling and writing down your soul? The answer in a nutshell: just about everything!

The chart I mention that compares traditional journaling and deep soul writing is on page 246 in Writing Down Your Soul. If you want it in color check out writingdownyoursoul.com.

The second question on this video is about the value of deep soul writing for professional writers. But it’s not just writers who love the flow that deep soul writing generates. All creatives love deep soul writing because the creative force of the universe is available in theta. I feel like a cheerleader for theta. Go theta!

How about you? What mysteries of the universe do you unlock in theta?


Writing Down Your Soul — The Painting!

Writing Down Your Soul by Nicole Raisin Stern

Writing Down Your Soul by Nicole Raisin Stern

Last fall, Maggie Stultz, a clay artist in Virginia, participated in a Writing Down Your Soul teleclass. We’ve stayed in touch ever since.

Today, Maggie sent an email with this sweet present attached–the first (and as far as I know, only) painting of Writing Down Your Soul.

Maggied loved the book so much she gave a copy to her friend and fellow artist, Nicole Raisin Stern.

Nicole is traveling cross country right now with her two favorite companions: this book and her kitten Bodhi.

I’m beyond tickled. When I look at this painting, all I can do is smile. Big smile. Outrageous smile. Oh my God, smile. Doesn’t it make you smile, too?

Nicole and her artwork are available at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tortugadeldesierto/
http://www.NicoleRaisinStern.etsy.com

Hey, I wonder how many other books have had their portrait painted? Do you know of any?