For several years now I have been working on my spirituality. I have a great spiritual leader, Ruby, who lets me know when I start to let go and stop my spiritual work. My life seems to fall apart a bit when I stop the work. (By the way you can find Ruby, at Ruby's Readings.)
I have also started following Jen Duchene who is a great numerologist. I have found that astrology and numerology provide similar information. One of the things that Jen was talking about today was letting go and being free. That is one thing that I have to work on. What is it I have to let go of? Control. Why do I have control? I am shackled by fear.
I was raised that you have to work, even if you are miserable in the job, you have to work and pay your bills. Well yes, you have to pay your bills, but you don't necessarily have to work a miserable job.
I have spent much of my adult life searching and looking for the one thing I enjoy. I enjoy writing and helping others. In my full time forty hour work week, half of my job is spent helping others in the community. Love fills me completely when I am doing this. The other half is spent in billing. Hate, anxiety, and other very negative emotions fill up in me when I am sitting in the office doing the billing.
Fear has shackled me from leaving my full time job and working on strictly blogging, my guest features, and writing novels and novellas. The fear is not being able to pay my bills and feed my kids. The fear of failing.
Here is a story. Now I love my grandpa, may he be resting in peace. God love this man. He had such a great heart, but fear of having nothing shackled him. I know this came from growing up in the depression.
Do you remember Hurricane Katrina? During that time, organizations were collecting sheets and blankets for the people affected by the hurricane. I had an over abundance of sheets. I told my grandpa I was going to donate all of my sheets except for two sets for my bed and two sets for my son's bed. He told me not to do that because I may need those sheets. I thought to myself, for what? Why do I need so many sheets? I went home and bagged up those sheets, two large trash bags full and donated them. Never did I come into a need for sheets.
I need to learn to let go of my fear like I let go of those sheets. I know my shackles break free a little more each time I put my trust into the Universe, but it is hard to fully let of the control and hand it over.
Does the shackles of fear affect you? If so, how?
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Monday, March 23, 2015
Grandma's Love of Romance
If you met my grandma, you wouldn't think she was a romantic person. I never thought of her as a romantic person, but now that I think about it, she had a love for romance. She read Harlequin Romance stories like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow.
When my uncle moved out and got married, I think she made his room into a Harlequin Romance and yarn room. Well and extra storage for her clothes. She had drawers of a large dresser and a book shelf full of Harlequin Romance. She never read any other type of book.
I got my love for reading from her, but I never could get into romance books. I want the drama and excitement. She used to get a box full of six or more books a month in the mail. She read them all before the month was out.
I remember when she was passing she had a few books still in the box behind her chair and one that was partially read. When she was passing, I read some of the book she had not completed to her. I knew even though she couldn't talk to me she could hear me. How do I know that? When I got called into the kitchen by my mom, I stopped reading. When I looked over at her, she was moving her shoulders in an angry way. I knew in my heart, she was upset that her reading got interrupted. I have to chuckle to myself when I see that in my mind and think about it.
I like to think that she is on the other side sitting in a comfortable recliner with her game shows and westerns on the television and a Harlequin Romance in her hands.
When my uncle moved out and got married, I think she made his room into a Harlequin Romance and yarn room. Well and extra storage for her clothes. She had drawers of a large dresser and a book shelf full of Harlequin Romance. She never read any other type of book.
I got my love for reading from her, but I never could get into romance books. I want the drama and excitement. She used to get a box full of six or more books a month in the mail. She read them all before the month was out.
I remember when she was passing she had a few books still in the box behind her chair and one that was partially read. When she was passing, I read some of the book she had not completed to her. I knew even though she couldn't talk to me she could hear me. How do I know that? When I got called into the kitchen by my mom, I stopped reading. When I looked over at her, she was moving her shoulders in an angry way. I knew in my heart, she was upset that her reading got interrupted. I have to chuckle to myself when I see that in my mind and think about it.
I like to think that she is on the other side sitting in a comfortable recliner with her game shows and westerns on the television and a Harlequin Romance in her hands.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Grandma's Dancing Shoes
Thursday night my cousin came over and we started talking about some memories of our grandparents. She is ten years younger than me, so I love to tell her some of the stories of my memories. One of them we talked about was grandma and her dancing shoes.
Now let me start by saying that my grandparents started taking dancing lessons when I was probably around seven, maybe younger. They practiced in the living room, in the kitchen, wherever they could. They loved dancing. Sometimes, I was grandpa's partner for practicing. I learned the box waltz, the polka, foxtrot, and any other country western dance you could imagine that they learned.
When the lessons were over they got a membership at the Moose Lodge, (which had the best steaks around) and Vinewood. I'm not sure if Vinewood required a membership. Anyhow, every weekend was spent dancing, whether it was a senior citizen dance out of town, or at one of the places above, they were dancing. Nothing stopped them. Plus if I was along, especially at the Moose Lodge, I got to feel like a big girl and drink with them. I looked forward to my Shirley Temple drink. (Cherry Coke with a cherry).
As the dancing got more serious, so did the shoes. Grandma would get a catalogue of shoes and she ordered pairs upon pairs of shoes for dancing. The ones that stick in my mind the most are the patent leather, tan ones, with a short square heal. I'm sure they are still in the closet. She would wait impatiently like a child for her dancing shoes to be delivered.
They were delivered in a brown shoe box, and they each had to be in that box when not being worn and were stacked neatly at the bottom of the closet.
Even though, today I smile about the dancing shoes, I wouldn't trade the memories of dancing with them for anything. I know they are in heaven dancing now, grandpa in his gray suit and grandma, in a beautiful dress with a pair of her dancing shoes.
Now let me start by saying that my grandparents started taking dancing lessons when I was probably around seven, maybe younger. They practiced in the living room, in the kitchen, wherever they could. They loved dancing. Sometimes, I was grandpa's partner for practicing. I learned the box waltz, the polka, foxtrot, and any other country western dance you could imagine that they learned.
When the lessons were over they got a membership at the Moose Lodge, (which had the best steaks around) and Vinewood. I'm not sure if Vinewood required a membership. Anyhow, every weekend was spent dancing, whether it was a senior citizen dance out of town, or at one of the places above, they were dancing. Nothing stopped them. Plus if I was along, especially at the Moose Lodge, I got to feel like a big girl and drink with them. I looked forward to my Shirley Temple drink. (Cherry Coke with a cherry).
As the dancing got more serious, so did the shoes. Grandma would get a catalogue of shoes and she ordered pairs upon pairs of shoes for dancing. The ones that stick in my mind the most are the patent leather, tan ones, with a short square heal. I'm sure they are still in the closet. She would wait impatiently like a child for her dancing shoes to be delivered.
They were delivered in a brown shoe box, and they each had to be in that box when not being worn and were stacked neatly at the bottom of the closet.
Even though, today I smile about the dancing shoes, I wouldn't trade the memories of dancing with them for anything. I know they are in heaven dancing now, grandpa in his gray suit and grandma, in a beautiful dress with a pair of her dancing shoes.
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