April 30th was brilliant and sunny and warm. I was, too. Because, I took a small chance. In the last year, I've only taken one other like it. Why? I'm scared now, sad. Sick from sorrow and grief. For the first time in weeks, my dreams before waking on May Day were thankfully not full of fear, but instead showed how connected I am. All the signs, symbols and synchronicities I've been experiencing are real...have real meaning. I was in the woods, watching the skies, walking with one of my angels. The dream conveyed that things are moving in the right direction. The trees agree. So do the clouds. And, the tall grass in the fields.
Angels prefer open fields. So do I. Not only can you feel the sunshine, but you can spread your wings. That's never a bad thing.
The moment I woke on May 1st, I smelled cigarettes. I could not only smell the brand, but also feel a burn in my throat and chest. Like now. Being connected isn't as magical as you might imagine....
Did you know that spitting on people you care about is a real thing? It's believed to ward off evil spirits. Another knock. By the way, I am the only human in the house. My dog is here, but she is sleeping on me. When the knock happened, her ears pricked up. But she's 14 and too old to "wake up" for a random noise. However, if sausage were happening, she'd act like a spry puppy again. It's interesting when my dog reacts to the knocks or "sees" things other humans can't. She also smells the cigarette smoke, often sniffing out through her nose loudly as if in disapproval. Can't blame her. I'm not a fan of smoking either.
One of the most brilliant women I've ever known was a life-long smoker. She was beautiful, too. In her sixties when I met her, we were at this swanky restaurant in New York when she drew out an elegantly long cigarette, starkly white against her cappuccino skin but bringing out the highlights in her steel-grey locks. She herself was steely. I think it's why she smoked. Agency. One of the few areas of her life where she could prove she had free will. Even if it killed her.
That's not why most folks smoke. They're compelled. Can't help it. And, it gets worse under stress of some kind. Having to smoke a cigarette in the morning when you get up, or at night before bed, is not using smoking as a coping mechanism. Or, to symbolize your free will in a chaotic world. It's a sign of addiction.
Addiction removes agency or choice. When you feel compelled to act a certain way, like with an addiction, that's an effect of limitations, or, negative energy. It's the same context when you walk away (and stay away) from a person you love. You don't do something like that because you're addicted to the love or to the person you left behind. Addiction is when you can't help yourself; it's the real reason you walked away. Whatever your addiction was, it called you home. But you stay away, not because of addiction, but because of guilt/shame. Wow. Loud knock to that!
Addictions cause you to make choices, not based on your happiness, but because you feel compelled, obligated. Regret, however, does not negate the initial choice, even if made for artificial or forced reasons. A choice one must remake each day. And, its a terrible choice indeed. If forced by vulnerability, it's the reason you still regret your decision. But there is always hope; you can make a new choice with each new day. The caveat is that until the compulsion that forced you to make such an awful decision in the first place is cleared from your system, you will never have true agency.
When you make a choice because it makes you happy, that's true agency. Decisions not based on vulnerability are real. Authentic. You're not vulnerable when you choose happiness. You're only vulnerable when you allow others agency over your life; this is typical with any kind of financial and/or chemical dependency. In order to choose happiness, you must be able to financially support yourself. You cannot rely on anyone else or you will be vulnerable to their limits. And, imposed limits never lead to happiness; such imposition destroys happiness. It destroys life, too. But that's a topic for another essay....
I made a big breakfast last weekend after waking from dreams of walking with angels...my gourmet cheese grits, scrambled eggs, fresh whipped cream made with Georgia honey, orange zest and bourbon, and piles of colorful fresh berries. Pineapple-mango bellinis garnished with blueberries were the perfect finish to an impromptu brunch. And, I even baked up a loaf of fresh bread! Nothing like pipping hot bread from the oven...the smell alone could make butter melt in your mouth. It was glorious. Tomorrow, even though I'm a mother, too, I'm making Mother's Day brunch: Tri-color tortellini salad with fresh mozzarella, basil and organic tomatoes, sliced cantaloupe, potato and ricotta pie, chicken Caesar salad with grated Parmesan, balsamic and olive oil, and, home-made croutons from bread I made myself, not to mention home-made focaccia pizza, all served with limoncello punch garnished with fresh raspberries, and, for dessert, tiered white cake decorated with piles of Georgia honey-glazed blackberries, blueberries and raspberries.
Don't you wish you were invited???
I used to cook like I describe above every day at my old house in Atlanta. That is, three meals a day, every day. And, I loved every second of it. But I'm more than just a gal who can cook; I'm also an international author and blogger, a CEO, and, a nationally-recognized pop culture expert quoted in print newspapers like the LA Times and USA Today. You can love to cook, keep a clean home, yet still be professionally-accomplished and still have a hot bikini body...even at 44. That's the beauty of being unlimited.
Being limitless means you can be everything you want to be: A blonde bombshell with boobs to match yet intelligent and, more importantly, have that intelligence recognized (and read) by people in 54 countries around the globe. You can be a good mom, great cook, and clean your own house, yet not be a frumpy home-maker...unless you think butt-hugging yoga pants and cleavage-loving tank tops are frumpy. And, when you're built like me, they're not. You can even be 44 and look 34 without ever getting a single shot of Botox or fillers, or, any kind of plastic surgery. You can survive cancer for 25 years, too, and still be a joyful, happy and positive person. Only people confined by limits believe otherwise.
Haters are who I mean when I refer to people confined by limits. Haters are gonna hate, y'all...but their limits are not your problem. It's theirs. When you're unlimited, your biggest problem is deciding what you're going to do next.
Being connected to the Universe (also known as being unlimited) also means you can forgive easily. You meet offensive behavior with compassion, not reaction. You live when others die. You stay when others go. You love when others leave. You rise when others fall. You're loyal when others betray. You're brave when others fear. You can be everything and anything. Because being unlimited--being connected--also means being positive. And last weekend, I practically glowed with positivity. It was as if the entire world could see it.
Find happiness and everything you could ever want will suddenly be possible. Because, happiness removes limits....
No matter who you are, where you're from, or what you've done, we are all unlimited, because we all have souls. It's easy to get caught up in the limits of the physical world. I cry about it on a daily basis. My losses. So many. So severe. So heartbreaking. And, it doesn't go away. Real love is like that. I guess I'm learning that it doesn't have to go away for me to be okay. Even if I still have a long way to go. But at least I now know that the imposed limits I've had to live with haven't changed my unlimited nature. I can have visible scars and flaws, but still be beautiful. In fact, it is those very scars and flaws that make me beautiful. Life-tattoos, I call them. Designed by the Universe. The marks of a life well lived.
Keep those unlimited, positive thoughts in mind...even on days like today, where the sky seems endlessly gray. I used to say that it didn't matter when it rained, because I walked between the rain drops. Now I know that getting wet when it's raining isn't a sign of failure...it's a sign of courage. A sign I'm actually living my life.
PS: Happy Mother's Day to all the strong women and mothers out there who teach children to be ethical adults, who support their kids' happiness, who encourage their sons and daughters to be independent, confident and strong, and, who protect their babies from harm...even if it means walking away from an abusive partner. You are not always appreciated, but you are loved! Sending #PositiveEnergy to each of you....