A Birthday to Remember

I had some trouble writing my blog this week. Had a few good ideas, but I couldn’t get anything to work. The flow just wasn’t there.

“What’s the trouble?” I said out loud to my cat. Then I remembered. This Friday, February 27th would have been Dad’s 90th birthday. Yep, there’s the issue. I miss my dad.

As a coach, I’m the first person to tell anyone who’ll listen that grief is individual and doesn’t have a specific “end date.” Everyone grieves in their own way. I help my clients honor their grief and explore healthy ways to move through extreme sadness while they continue with life. I had help with my own grief process, and thought I’d done very well with my dad’s long illness and eventual death in October 2013 at age 88. So why was his birthday getting to me? Think I figured it out.

For the rest of my life, February 27th will be Daddy’s birthday. A time to celebrate the man and remember the many ways he helped make me the woman I am today. Ninety is a milestone birthday, and he and I had actually talked about it nearly ten years ago. We’d planned what we’d do, where we’d go. Now the plan has changed, but I know what I’m going to do.

I’m going to celebrate how Dad shows up in my life now. I’ll appreciate the smiling photos on the wall of happy family trips. I’ll be sure to notice how Dad lives on through my children as I marvel at my daughter’s strategic mind and appreciate my son’s love of nature. I’ll see his eyes in my own reflection in the mirror. I’ll be aware of it all.

I’ll also remember how grateful I am that my parents were close to my kids and were an important part of their childhood. I’ll appreciate the fact that my dad was part of my life until my mid-fifties and that I was learning from him throughout his life, and beyond. And I’ll give myself a break and realize it’s OK for me to miss him. Because I do, every day. Happy 90th birthday, Dad. Love you….

If you have time to bitch, you have time to meditate. Really.

It kinda drives me crazy when people tell me they don’t have time to meditate. They have time to play Farmville for hours on Facebook, ramble on and on about everything in their life that isn’t working, and even report watching entire weekends of The Real Housewives marathons. They have time for those things, but not time to incorporate a life changing practice into their daily life. Interesting.

Everyone needs to “let off steam,” vent or get something off their chest from time to time. I understand that. I do find it interesting when people develop a habit of constantly complaining or “bitching” without ever trying to take any corrective action. Must be the life coach in me kicking in. I don’t get it. I do know, for some, bitching is a competitive sport. They seem to find pleasure in retelling the same woes for years. It’s a strategy, but one that usually keeps the person in victim mode. It’s all about informed choice.

So let me inform you. Meditation has been proven to be effective in releasing stress, improving health and even helped people put their finances back on track. I’ve heard as little as five minutes a day can make a positive difference in your life. Now really, you don’t have five minutes a day? If you believed meditating five minutes a day could change your life for the better, would you do it? Of course you would. Start at five minutes and work your way up to twenty minutes or more per sitting to see an incredible shift in your life. No kidding.

Check out the thousands of books, articles, cds and videos on the subject if you don’t believe me. You’ll not only find research supporting the positive effects of a consistent meditation practice, you’ll find many examples of the ways you can meditate. There is a simple meditation style to fit everyone.

I think meditation is so important it’s the subject of the first chapter of my book How to Choose Love When You Just Want to Slap Somebody. Read my book to see how it all fits in, but know for now that a daily meditation practice keeps me more balanced, happy and open to all the good life has to offer. Result? I don’t feel like slapping anyone.

Yes, I’m on Facebook, I’ll occasionally have my own tale of woe to tell my sister and have watched an episode or two of The Real Housewives (that NeNe cracks me up) but it’s all done after I’ve meditated at least once that day. Meditation comes first each morning and I work to include a second session between late afternoon and evening. Each day, every day. No exception.

Meditation is magic. It’s healing. It’s free. And you definitely have time for it.

OMG! I’m Looking at Greeting Cards ‘from the Cat!’ How Did THIS Happen?

So here I am, in the greeting card aisle, looking for a romantic card for my sweet husband and I spy the category (yes, it’s a category) “From the Cat.” I pick up a card. I read it. I love it. I buy it. WHAT?

I’ve always admired and been fascinated by animals but I’m not the type of person who has to have an animal as part of the family. I have had beautiful pets over the years and loved them but when they were gone, they were gone.

When I married my current husband in 2004 he actually came with an adult cat named Smokey. At the time my still-at-home teenage son and I thought it was a good selling point. We all loved, adored and spoiled dear Smokey until she took her last breath at age 17 in December 2010. We were truly devastated when she died and still miss her.

Over the next year after Smokey’s death, my adult kids tried to convince me that I “needed” another cat. Nope, not me. I’m fine thank you. I was busy with my intuitive coaching practice, taught weekend workshops and helped my siblings care for our elderly father. My schedule was chock full of “stuff” to do and I thought I needed “one more thing to care for” like I needed another ten pounds on my thighs.

As the months wore on, I saw my daughter married in October of 2011 and my son graduate from college in May 2012. By mid 2012 my dad had gone to live in an assisted living facility so the daily responsibilities for his care were over. Time to breathe a little…or so I thought.

The morning of Saturday, July 28, 2012 was a scorcher. Our area had suffered several 100 degree days and this was the same. As I sat comfortably in my family room watching a movie, I heard a weird little noise coming from the back deck. I looked up to see a tiny grey stripped kitten “knocking” on my glass door.

“Oh no,” I thought. ”You’re not going to get me with that cute little kitten face. Nope, not me, Sister!” I tried to turn back to watch my movie. I really tried. Really. I did. But it was soooo hot…

I got up and moved toward the door thinking the kitty would scamper away. That did not happen. I stared at the furry face through the glass muttering, “no, no, no…” all the while feeling my resolve start to melt. Damn.

To make a long story short, I have a cat. Or, I should say, a cat has ME, my husband, more toys than a typical spoiled two year old, a kitty pirate ship (yeah, a pirate ship), a cushy bed, organic food and a gallery of photos that have been texted to friends and family whether they wanted to see them or not.

Our house has a new sense of fun, play and love. Since we married a bit later in life, my husband and I never raised little kids together so Rory Grace is our first “child.” (We are learning to co-parent just in time for grandkids who we expect to arrive in the next few years.) Rory kisses us on the nose, jumps in bed to wake us each morning and gives us more unconditional love than I thought possible from an animal. And she’s just beautiful. I mean “model cat” beautiful. Check my Facebook page if you don’t believe me.

About the time Rory arrived, my dad started a painful decline and her loving presence made a difficult time a bit easier. After all, everything’s better with a nuzzle from a beautiful cat.

What a lesson Rory has taught me. I’ve come to understand the Universe offers the perfect gifts just when we need them. I was so afraid to have “one more thing to take care of” that I didn’t realize I was the one who needed a little extra love. And now I’m the woman buying greeting cards “from the cat.” I never saw that coming…

Harry and the Peach Seed

Harry is my dear friend and “adopted brother” who is a master storyteller. He has many tales of his beloved “Nannar,” his mother’s mother, who doted on him as her only grandchild. I especially love his peach seed story and I use it often with clients when I’m illustrating a point. It goes something like this…

One day when he was about eight years old, Harry was visiting Nannar in her rural Virginia home. As usual, visits to Nannar included time in her kitchen and on this day they were enjoying the juicy goodness of a fresh summer peach. As the seed started to emerge through the plump peach Harry was eating, he got an idea.

“Can we plant this peach seed?” young Harry asked.

“Of course,” Nannar replied. “We’ll plant it in the back yard where we can watch it grow through the kitchen window.”

A great plan Harry thought, so off they went to plant the seed. A suitable spot was found and under Nannar’s watchful gaze, Harry dug a hole, deposited the seed, covered it with dirt and added water. “Now we wait,” Nannar said.

Just a few days later, Harry asked his grandmother if they could dig the seed up and see how it was doing.

“You don’t want to do that,” Nannar cautioned.

“But why not?” Harry countered. He was an inquisitive lad and as an only child, was used to getting his requests quickly met.

“You planted the seed and watered it,” Nannar said. “Now you must wait and let it grow. It’s started to sprout under the dirt and when it’s ready, the plant will poke through the ground and you’ll see it grow into a beautiful tree. We’ll eat peaches from that tree one day,” she said.

“But I want to check on it now and make sure,” a stubborn Harry replied.

“OK, but if you disturb the seed, it’ll stop growing,” the wise Nannar said. “You have to trust the seed is doing what it needs to even if you can’t see the progress.”

“I want to dig it up,” Harry said.

“OK,” replied Nannar. They went into the back yard and she supervised as a determined Harry carefully dug up the seed to discover it had indeed sprouted.

“Look! It’s growing!” Harry said.

“It was,” his grandmother countered. “Now it has stopped growing,” she said.

“I’ll just put it back and it’ll be fine,” Harry said.

“You can put it back in the ground, but it’s too late for this seed to grow,” Nannar said. “When you plant a seed, you must be patient, wait and trust the seed is doing what it needs to even if you can’t see it.”

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said as he replanted the delicate sprout. “We’ll have a peach tree soon!”

For weeks afterwards, Harry would visit Nannar and run to the back yard to check on the progress of his peach tree. He’d water the spot if it looked dry.

Nannar would observe this ritual with a smile and say, “You have to trust the process Harry. You can’t dig up the seed and expect to grow a tree.”

Of course Nannar was right, and the seed never grew.

Harry told me that for years later, he would be sitting with his grandmother in the kitchen and she’d motion out the window into the back yard and say, “That’s where your tree would have been if you’d given the seed time to grow. That tree could have produced thousands of peaches by now and hundreds of new trees could have come from that single seed. When you plant something, Harry, you have to nurture it, be patient and trust in the natural process.”

WOW. Using a simple example from nature, Nannar beautifully explained a powerful life lesson. I love this story.

I’ve often wondered how many times in my own life I’ve planted a “seed” only to have been impatient with the process and “dug it up” before it had time to grow properly? I’ve done that with relationships, jobs and countless projects over my lifetime. Wish I’d had Nannar to advise me. But thanks to Harry, I do have her wisdom.

What “seed” have you planted lately? Do you know how to nurture it while you practice patience and trust it will grow?

That Dream You’ve Had for Years….is 2015 the Time to Do it?

What have you been talking about doing for years? What is that activity, event or action you’ve been dreaming about? Want to run a marathon? Write a book? Take a class? The start of a New Year is a great time to re-evaluate your goals and make plans to accomplish them. But how do you know if this is your dream or someone else’s dream for you? I get that question a lot in my coaching practice. Get out a journal and I’ll explain how you can use your own Divine Guidance to get the answers you need. Let’s start…

Shut your eyes, take a deep breath and imagine your dream is now a reality. Take another deep breath. Eyes still closed, concentrate on any feelings that come up. Do you feel excited? Proud? Scared? Or maybe depressed? Take a few minutes to explore this. Use your journal to jot down any feelings that emerge. Spend time really imagining how accomplishing this dream will make you feel, then ask yourself this question: does the thought of this make me happy? Ok, that’s your first clue.

Now try the reverse. Shut your eyes, take a breath and imagine that you are lying on your death bed at the end of a long life and you never realized this dream. Really feel into this. What comes up? Are you sad? Remorseful? Do you feel relief? Or is there no emotion at all around it? Note those feelings in your journal as well. That’s your second clue!

Now for the final test. Shut your eyes, take a couple deep breaths and imagine directing your consciousness to your heart. Some people like to place their hands on their heart for this part. Breathe into your heart space and ask yourself, “Is pursuing this dream for my highest and best good now?” Trust whatever answer first comes to you. Write it down.

Review your notes then relax and shut your eyes again. Breathe deep and ask for guidance. What was the first thought you had? Trust it. It’s Ok to feel this dream is no longer relevant to you. If that’s how you feel, let it go without guilt. You may feel this is the perfect time to proceed. Then get going! Take inspired action to move you forward. Baby steps toward your dream are fine, as long as you’re going forward. And remember sometimes you have to let go to move forward.

Nothing Is As It Appears

Have you ever heard the phrase “nothing is as it appears?” It reminds us that we only “see” through our own mental filters. We bring our opinions, learning and past experiences to everything we see, hear and think which colors our perspective.

When we were kids, my family traveled from our Virginia home to visit relatives in the mid-west. I remember we stopped in Michigan one year and my dad decided to treat us to a “nice” dinner. After a recommendation from the hotel staff, we were off. Dad negotiated the station wagon up and down the crowded city streets until we came to what appeared to be a run-down warehouse. A single metal door marked with the name of the restaurant was visible under a lone street light. The building had no windows, no decoration, no curb appeal. It was scary.

“This can’t be it,” my mom said. “It’s the right address,” Dad countered. “The guy said it looked rough, but for us to go in anyway.”

We entered through the stark doorway, through a small hall and into a dazzling dining room sparkling with beautiful tables, giant floral displays, elegant chandeliers and smartly dressed staff. “WOW,” I remember thinking. This wasn’t the Waldorf Astoria, but the restaurant was completely different than it appeared from the outside. This episode helped me understand the adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Great advice for us all, don’t you think?

I got an even deeper understanding of this principle just this past weekend. My husband’s oldest sister, Joann, passed away on New Year’s Eve after a short but aggressive bout with cancer. In the ten years since Joe and I’ve been married, I’d only spent time with Joann twice, and spoken to her on the phone a few times more. She lived eight hours south and we’d both been dealing with sick family members for several years. We were going to visit soon. They were coming up to see us soon. It never happened. And now we were heading to Charleston, South Carolina to put Joann to rest and be with her grieving husband, children and grandchildren.

Based on the time I’d spent with Joann and the stories I’d heard from Joe and other family still in Virginia, I was confident I knew all about her. I was wrong. As many of us do, I’d forgotten she’d continued to grow and change over the years as I had. It hadn’t occurred to me she was more than the wife, mother and school teacher I had spent time with. My memories of Joann held her tight in a specific box in my mind, complete with a few descriptive phrases I remembered when I thought of her. My little box proved woefully inadequate to describe the woman she was in this life. Where had I gone wrong?

I had neglected to see the beautiful Divine spirit that she truly was. I felt this spirit embrace us all as we gathered at the funeral home on Sunday to bid farewell. I saw it in the stunning portrait of Joann that had been painted only days before by her brother-in-law. Her spirit was there in the fragrance of the vibrant flowers as their scent wafted through the room. It was her spirit that shined through the eyes of her beautiful grandchildren, when I saw them laugh and cry.

As I sat through the service, I heard the pain in her son’s eulogy and I knew his great pain came from the great love he had for his mother. Her spirit was there again in the striking poem read by her adult granddaughter and the tearful words of her ten year old grandson. I began to understand the woman she was when, after the service, I saw two young men come to pay their respects to the family.

These two had been best friends since sixth grade when they were in Joann’s Language Arts class. She had truly inspired them and since that time, they had gotten “A’s” in every English class they took. They were now college seniors. Amazing. Two young men – at the end of a holiday weekend – took the time to let her family know how Joann had changed their lives all those years ago.

Back at the house, her husband David reminded me that he and Joann had gone back to college in their late 40’s to get teaching degrees. Joann had been a high school drop out as a kid. In her 20’s she was a mom to five children, then added several step children. Many years later, she got her GED and graduated from college when many people would think it was too late to reinvent themselves. But Joann did.

David also told me Joann had first worked as a teacher in a very poor, rural area of South Carolina where many children were raised by their grandparents. Many of the adults in the area were illiterate. At the first parent-teacher night that first year, Joann was shocked when only two parents in the entire school showed up. So she concocted a plan. She and David went to local grocery stores and got donations, then purchased supplies for a cookout and, on their own, threw a party at school inviting the kids, parents and grandparents. David smiled as he remembered nearly 150 people showed up for the cookout.

“Joann knew the adults were intimidated by the school, but she also knew everyone shows up for free food!” he remembered as his eyes sparkled with the memory. Brilliant. She figured out a way to meet the families and got them involved in school life.

Incredible. And I never knew. I never knew the spirit of this woman who was determined to help children in need and found a way to do just that.

Was Joann a saint? Not at all, as was apparent from the hilarious stories told around the table after the service. I bet you’re not either. I know I’m not.

I am thankful to have been a part of the family gathering to celebrate the life of this special lady. And I’m grateful to be reminded that nothing, and no one, is as they appear from our limited thinking.

Heed the Small Voice

To me, the week between Christmas and New Year’s is sort of a “bonus time” to play, connect with friends, even allow yourself to be just a little lazy (and read that new book for several hours instead of doing laundry). It’s a time to relax and enjoy yourself. It’s a time to reflect on the events of the last year, and prepare for the new. That’s exactly what I was doing last weekend when an interesting thing happened.

I woke up the Saturday after Christmas, still in bed, thinking my main goal would be to find the perfect robe at a fantastic “after holiday” price. Yep, that was my plan. My sister was busy, my daughter and son-in-law were visiting his family out of town, and my husband was working so the day was mine, and mine alone. “No problem,” I thought. “I’ll get in and get out of the stores quickly and be home to catch a SyFy movie and snuggle with the cat by the afternoon.”

Even before I got up, I had this thought, “Go to the garden center.” I didn’t need, or want, anything from there, so I quickly dismissed the thought like the fleeting shadow from a fading dream. As I fed the cat, took my shower and got ready to leave, the image of this specific garden center about 25 miles away kept appearing in my mind. “No robes there,” I laughed as I climbed in my car.

I listened to holiday music as I made my way to the shopping area where I was sure my soft and delightfully priced robe would be waiting for me. Still, I kept seeing the garden center and feeling as if it were calling to me. Now I’ve seen and heard some interesting stuff, but this intensity was new even to me. “Hmm, maybe I should swing by there before I go home,” I thought as I headed in that general direction. The center is just a couple miles past the shopping area I planned to visit.

“I’m right here at the store so I might as well stop here first,” I said out loud. My car didn’t stop. I drove right by and heard, “go to the garden center first.” OK, I can be a bit dense, but I know when I’m getting Divine direction. I eventually get it, at least.

Off to this huge garden center I went. I parked in front and walked in, curious to find the treasure I was sure must be waiting for me. After all, I’d been directed to come. I expected some unbelievable deal on a unique holiday ornament or maybe one of the table top water fountains I loved there. But I found nothing. I wandered every isle totally open to whatever Spirit was directing me to find. And then it happened.

“Diane!” I heard from behind me as a woman I know called my name. It was she who I needed to see. The details aren’t important. What is important is that I listened to the small voice inside that kept gently directing me to this meeting which we both benefited from. If I had stopped at the store first, I’d never have had this “chance” encounter. And this was a lovely way to connect with someone who lived out of the area who I didn’t usually see.

So who or what directed me? Angels? My guides? God? Source? I just know it was Divine. And when I look back at the last year, I can see how my life made miraculous turns when I heeded this small – but persistent – inner voice. I could also see how I struggled when I made choices that didn’t “feel right” or were opposite this guidance. For the coming year, I’ll be sure to pay more attention to this little voice and take the path that is presented to me. I’ll let this loving energy guide my actions. That’s the plan. I encourage you to find your own inner voice and notice the guidance you’re offered and see what happens. (Meditation is a quick and easy way to connect with this inner knowing!)

Oh, and I did find the perfect robe.