Month: March 2016

When It Comes To Meditation, My Body Has A Mind of Its Own

Dinner, some wine, TV on the couch in our pajamas, and that’s how Sir Husband and I spend most of our fairy tale evenings…until 10 p.m. when we head upstairs for the night. We get into bed, the room is dark and quiet, the cat snuggles herself in between our legs. And then it happens.

Without saying a word, we put on our headphones, open our iPads, and simultaneously hit play on the day’s meditation. It’s Oprah Chopra Meditation Experience time again, and every night we meditate together while holding hands. Yep, this is how it is when you are so compatible with your spouse that even meditating together is bliss.

shedding weightThis is our fourth “free experience” – 21 days in a row of guided meditations based on a particular theme. This one is about shedding the weight of mind, body and spirit, for a more light and enlightened you. Each day the meditation begins with a two-minute talk by Oprah, then Chopra offers a few minutes of soothing wisdom-filled zen, and bam. We’re off and meditating for the next 15 minutes with the day’s designated mantra, usually involving the word Om.

This is where the experience changes for Sir Husband and me, because in spite of listening to the same talks and music and silently chanting the same mantra, no two people have the same experience.

It took him a while to get into these, begrudgingly trying the first one last year, but by the third he was sold and now he’s so into the “results,” he looks forward to it. They have truly changed his mind-body mentality – meditation mysteriously soothes the nervous system and expands consciousness, it’s like this crazy magic medicine that supersedes any standard protocols.

That’s him. But I’m a different story. When they say that meditation is the key to the hidden power of the mind-body connection and cleans your inner house, for me they really mean it. Oh sure it’s like taking a mega-dose of muscle and mind relaxers, but like clockwork at the start of each free experience, my body decides to detox. The first two days I’m in the bathroom, and the next three days I have a killer headache. I find meditation quite soothing, except when I feel sick. It passes after the first few days, that’s my adjustment phase. The issues are in the tissues is my favorite Chopra phrase.

Who am I to question the crossover between science and spirituality? My psyche and body have minds of their own, I have always had a reactive body to my emotions. So from emotional stress which can make us sick, to a full body detox or cleanse, a free meditation experience is two bangs for my buck.

Thankfully according to this round’s theme of removing the burdened past, I am not the person I used to be, and can release my old self now. So I overachieved in that concept again with a detox cleanse. But the shift is set in motion for my restoration and healing. I’m my own ally in this process, along with my partner in Om. We can all find daily fulfillment, when we just get in the zone.

 

meditation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Learning to Trust is a Lifelong Endeavor

blue pathTake a little walk with me down the path of human evolution. Not the scientific evolution of apes to ancestors, but the growth of consciousness and capabilities.

I just read an article about global researchers in the field of human development recently discovering that humans are making a giant evolutionary leap in recognizing and cultivating their own potential.

I’m not sure how they measure that, but I’m going with my own theory that our experiences offer us an opportunity to expand or contract depending on our choosing. How do we quantify that in a short and simple blog post? One word. Trust.

Trust threads together every aspect of our own life’s web. From the moment we are born we learn to trust, relying on our parents to teach us how. That is a huge job, because the trust we form becomes the foundation for our interaction with the world.

Let’s just say I’m still working with that. Trust to me, seems complicated. We put our faith in people from our family and friends to employers and clinicians to the people who work on our car or house. And just when I think I can trust someone, something happens that shakes the frazzled foundation.

From my earliest experiences of others’ facades and destructive deceit, through the twists and turns of life rendering sinkholes instead of evolutionary leaps…who do you trust?

I do my part – I believe people, and believe in them, I trust in their ability and decency, and I trust with optimism and faith. But it often ends up with a shame on me.

Like when the guy who never finished installing our new floor ran off with our money even though he swore he’d be back. Or the person who set up a work project with me ended up completely changing careers. I won’t even get into the really tough stuff, I’ve got a lifetime list a mile long of let downs, abandonments and even betrayals.

But instead of when will I ever learn, I’m considering the global researchers in recognizing my own potential. Trust is an inside job, in spite of what appears to the contrary.

A wise woman I know once told me, “Don’t let anyone victimize you anymore. Take your life back.”

Those are fighting words. She’s right. Enough is enough. Trust is our birthright, and if we don’t learn that from others, we can consciously cultivate it in ourselves.

Expansion comes from believing we are inherently good, valuable and capable, no matter who or what makes us sad or frustrated, crazy or mad – the stuff that shakes our trust. The irony is, we have to trust ourselves in order to trust. That’s the evolutionary leap.

Thank you for taking the walk with me. Now I just need to learn to trust the path.

fairy path

Turns Out I’m A City Girl After All

goldilocks dismayed

While Goldilocks is not my favorite fairy tale, I am starting to see a resemblance to her with a threading theme. Girl goes out in search of something. Finds a house to call home. Tries it out with some discomfort, along with the food and atmosphere and eventually it all worked out. Or did it…because she fled. Question is, where did she go, and did she ever find herself “home”?

GoldilocksI’ve given it my best shot – three years and yes I’m counting – in the rural state we call home. But my authentic self is rising again, with a truth I cannot ignore. Life in ruralsville is not for me. Yes I’m glad we are coastal, the sea fills my heart. But a life surrounded by nature and countryside? No thank you, I’m out of my realm.

It took a little adjusting for both Sir Husband and me, but I’m not sure we ever will adjust here – local homegrown commercials for adventure stores and gear, news stories focus on moose hunting applications, maple syrup, fishing, and the best trails to hike this week – not to mention the anchors sport sweaters and hairdos right out of the early ‘80s.

Oh I’ve tried to embrace this lifestyle, but a country girl I am not. If I had the choice to walk five miles on a wooded trail or five miles through the city streets, give me the city, and fast. I’ve moved around a lot in my life, from the flatlands of Indiana, to the tourist land of Florida, three states in New England, and even upstate New York. Experience is good and should be embraced, because that is how we find out just what our heart desires.

3 bearsI’m not complaining, it’s an incredible place to vacation and even to retire – the landscape and small population of 1.3 million overall has its own sweet perks. There is unending natural beauty, picture-postcard scenery, heavenly seafood, delicious locavore, mountains and rivers and woods, trails, the ocean, boats…..intermittent internet for plenty of downtime, cell service sketchy at best, no commerce to get in the way of scenery or, well, working for a living, and a mindset that embraces the state’s culture lagging lightyears behind the norm. Never mind that is is highly probable that three real bears may just show up at my back door.

I actually find it comical, this personality mismatch that leaves me dreaming about my urban ties as I try to live life in the woods. The porridge, it’s too hot or too cold, the chair too big or too small, and the bed, well you get the idea. Sir Husband and I want our location to feel as right as our perfect bed.

And can we help who we are or what we like? Diversity is part of humanity, and where we live is far from diverse. Unless of course the countryside’s offerings are what makes your world go ‘round. Not judging at all – have at it – there is plenty of rural life here.

For now this is where I reside, but Goldilocks did not silence herself and there’s something to be said about speaking your truth…then letting it guide you home.

seeking home

 

My Broken Friend on the Phone, That’s Me In The Rear View Mirror

fairy mirrorIt’s wild how life can mirror back to you a clear image of yourself. I recently got a look in my own rear view mirror, and while I may not like the image, I not only recognize her, I admire her. She’s part of my former self, and I’m proud she emerged and healed.

I’ve been watching a good friend go through some tough times that feel way too familiar – long-term stress and abuse that sends you into a dark pit and changes you at the core. I hate to see her suffer, and watching her is both a blessing and a curse, because thanks to her, my hindsight lens is clear.

A while back she helped me through some extraordinary stuff that nearly killed me. A rock of strength and support, her kindness and objective matter-of-factness helped keep my life on the limb. But now she’s broken, and I’ve tried to return the favor, but she still struggles in the pit, seeking relief that never seems to come. I understand. I lived like that too.

Everybody goes through tough times, it’s just a matter to what degree. And even that is all relative, because we are unique in how we deal with our heavy stuff, and misery can distort everything. In daily turmoil we can easily lose sight of who we are, what we are doing, and where we are headed. It shifts us bit-by-bit, an erosion sets in. Upset turns to overwhelm and before we know it we feel consumed by our uncontrollable circumstances. It takes us away from ourselves and we have to find our way back.

With life ever-changing, we are always afforded the opportunity to choose how we want to proceed. There are many ways to work toward healing, and whether we take a shortcut or the long way around, it really only comes down to a couple of things:

What will we do to try to feel better, and are we willing to step outside of our comfort zone to do it?

It’s the comfort zone that trips us up, because habitual patterns are easy to maintain. We get stuck in the day-to-day hoping an end is in sight, and we try to survive, uncomfortable in the status quo. Maybe it will be better tomorrow, or, if only this or that will happen, we’ll feel better.

But when simply surviving isn’t changing our circumstances, and has even destroyed who we are, we have to see ourselves from a different vantage point to clear our internal lens, consciously going from debilitation to determination. We have to want to feel better, believe we can, and be willing to feel uncomfortable – really uncomfortable – to do it.

Everything has to change. The way we think about ourselves, our situation, the players, our life. What kind of life do we want, what are we willing to endure or sacrifice, including ourselves? Who comes first, ourselves or the people or circumstances keeping us from living the life we choose? What actions can we take to improve our circumstances, improve our thinking? What healthy tools can we use to help ourselves out of discomfort? What are we willing to think and do to heal? 

Saying it’s tough and tiring and heartbreaking to work through is an understatement. It’s sad to see my friend suffering, I know how hard it is. But a mirror is valuable too. Feel-better options are right there for us, when we are truly willing to see them.

window

 

Norman Rockwell Holidays On The Outside Looking In

whole foodsMid-afternoon on Easter eve and Whole Foods was a mob scene. The lines wove down the aisles half-way through the store and I was not even there to get anything for the next day’s holiday. I was only there for that night’s dinner. Like the Europeans, I often buy my food the day I’m going to cook it. But this particular day everyone on the planet was doing the same thing.

Holidays in any grocery store are relentless hours before the big day. People are preparing for their feasts with families, friends and those special in their lives. Not me. Holidays for us are kind of a buzzkill – not by desire, but by reality.

Growing up we celebrated holidays to the extreme – steeped in traditional flare, maxed out in both preparation and execution – we lacked for nothing, and our Norman Rockwell painting-type gatherings were worthy of the day. Packed around a table fully expanded by its removable leaves, Rat Pack records stacked high in the stereo console, whiskey sours and kiddie cocktails in hand – generations of people gathered on each holiday, ensuring a hearty celebration. Those were the days and they are since so long gone.

Now we are lucky to have just two or three of us. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles now mostly passed away, friends disappeared, family dispersed and busy with their own lives – gatherings for us do not exist. It’s hard for many reasons. Sir Husband’s family a mess of toxic crazy that we just are not a part, and what’s left of my extended family not acknowledging its ties beyond a text or phone call, we are left to share as much as we can long distance with our five kids. We wish we could all be together, but miles, finances and circumstances keep us apart on days that family matters.

So Sir Husband and I acknowledge the holiday with what sparks of glee we can. Happy to have each other, we wake up in the quiet morning, recognize the day in solace, say out loud we would like being part of the large family celebrations we see in pictures on social media, and then enjoy our own special day. In the great scheme of tradition, this has become our new norm.

This particular sunny Easter Sunday, we enjoyed our coffee together before heading to my mother’s with our teenager. She had braved the grocery-store masses and made enough food to feed an army – a tradition she continues in spite of minimal headcount. She always offers her Sunday best – dishes, decor, flowers and food – and works hard to make the occasion be all it can possibly be.

Aside from her festive spread for four, there’s something to be said for a no pomp and circumstance holiday. Minimal expectation is actually underrated. The freedom and flexibility of little pressure and massive unruliness is worth its weight in salt. We can do what we want without chaos or somebody else’s commands, and we focus on the peace of that.

When we returned home from our little brunch, it was like being in the grocery store parking lot the day before. Cars lined our cul-de-sac, we could barely get in the driveway. You could see through the big front windows of our neighbors’ homes and glimpse at their festive gatherings. There’s a beauty in simplicity, even on the outside looking in.

Easter’s Got A Story Beyond Bibles and Baskets – Who knew?

Myth or legend, truth or fiction, or maybe somewhere in between, come the stories of our national holidays. Easter weekend is upon us. For some that means baskets of candy and colorful eggs. For others, the faithful observation of religious beliefs.

As I perused the history of Easter to jot a relevant post while slurping a Cadbury egg, I came across some interesting information.

easter angelHold onto your Easter bonnets people – especially those who celebrate the Resurrection. Turns out that there isn’t really definitive “proof” of the observance of Easter in the Bible. Yes, I was shocked too. And since there are different versions of the Bible, the translations leave plenty of room for interpretation.

Like with any script, scripture, prose, or pondering, the meaning is in the eyes of the beholder. That’s not to say that what is sacredly celebrated isn’t real. I just found it surprising that one of the most recognized and celebrated Christian holidays is so loosely defined in the Good Book. When I really started digging, it was astounding how many “original” Easter stories there truly are – too many to even make sense of. But for the curious, here is the tip of the iceberg.

ostaraThe word Easter itself comes from roots going way, way back to the ancient pre-Mesopotamian goddess Ishtar, associated with fertility. There are other goddesses – Eastre or Eostre, a goddess as celebrated by medieval Christians during the spring equinox, and Ostara. Spring is a time of fertility in nature, and the cycles of crops supporting survival. The glory of spring after a desolate winter has been recognized since the beginning of time throughout the world.

As history unfolds, longstanding celebrations around the sunrise and change of seasons eventually (and allegedly) became the more traditional history we see of the Resurrection and what initiated the newer era of Jesus.

easter bunnyThe Easter bunny has its own place in this holiday’s history. First in pagan roots relating to the spring fertility and survival issue, then later by the Germans, who brought the hare to the United States in the 1700s much like Santa Claus, offering symbolic meaning for children. The eggs of course originally symbolized fertility and the egg celebration sprung from there.easter basekt

Easter, as a word and tradition, has shape-shifted through the ages, holding different meanings at different times in recorded history. While there are over two billion Christians in the world, one third in America, Easter is not globally celebrated on the same date.

And let’s not forget Passover – a sacred holiday celebration for Jews honoring when God and Moses took them out of slavery changing their lives and history forever. Although not related to Easter, it often coincides, depending on the calendar year.

This all certainly offers pause for thought, and shows there are many ways to view a national holiday. So I’ll leave you with a little poem as we embark on this enchanting time.

***

Twas the weekend of Easter and all through the house, I snuck some foil chocolates as quiet as a mouse. Although there were plenty in the baskets we had, I didn’t want my family to think I was bad. 

Raiding the stash of candy is fun, at any holiday not just one. Holidays are meant to be filled with joy, no matter what reasons we choose to employ. 

Easter is special for many I know, it goes beyond chocolate and colored-egg glow. For those who celebrate the occasion as such, we honor your faith’s personal touch. 

But whatever the reason you choose to engage, Happy Easter to all who read this whole page.

Basket filled with multi-coloured chocolate easter eggs.

My True Throwback Thursday Birthday Story

Little did I know that after a few decades, I would stumble upon an old childhood friend at her book reading some 600 miles from where we grew up, and her book included a story about me. I didn’t even know she was a writer, let alone a published author, and was reading at the college my middle son would soon attend. They were actually teaching one of her books in a literature class there – one of her many books! All shocking to say the least – yet not – as a BFF of the studious and talented prodigy in her youth, I knew she had what it takes.
dirty sugar cookies
Ironically the old gal wrote about my eighth birthday party in her book Dirty Sugar Cookies, one she less-than-gleefully attended much to my surprise several decades later. And since today is my birthday I thought I’d share a little Throwback Thursday eloquence from page 9, by my dear friend, Ayun Halliday.

In addition to her sequined tap-dancing costumes and the pink ostrich-plume pen she refused to share when we played school, Darla Kratt [can you believe she named me that?!] got to have the Enchanted Castle Cake from Betty Crocker’s New Boys and Girls Cookbook. Seeing that thing displayed under Kratt’s chandelier at Darla’s eighth birthday party filled me with such spite. I could have taken the Holly Hobbie doll I was to give her and rammed it down her throat. [I had no idea!] 

Situated on a vast lawn of shredded coconut dyed green, the Enchanted Castle boasted ice cream cone turrets and ramparts made of pillow mints. Hershey bar sections were embedded in the frosting like a drawbridge and windows. It was a dead ringer for the photograph on page 101, but better, since Mrs. Kratt had taken the liberty of adding some small plastic knights belonging to Darla’s younger brother, Crazy Craig.

enchanted castle cake

betty crocker cookbookI couldn’t have begun to imagine what such a gorgeous specimen would have run Darla’s parents in a bakery. Five hundred dollars maybe, a price only a movie star could afford. I had never imagined that I would actually see the Enchanted Castle cake in the flesh, that anyone’s mother would embark on such a structurally complex confection, that green coconut grass could be found outside the pages of Betty Crocker’s New Boys and Girls Cookbook. Every girl at Darla’s table owned that book; we all understood the significance of Mrs. Kratt having cooked the most impossibly special thing in it.

Not even the miniature bottles of pastel nail polish set out as party favors next to each guest’s nut cup could divert me from the inequity of this grail’s being bestowed upon someone who already had everything:  big-eyed Walter Keane paintings, a patio umbrella, one of those dolls whose voluminous crocheted skirts concealed an extra roll of toilet paper. I moped until Crazy Craig swiped one of the turrets, a breach of security that predictably caused the birthday girl to flee in tears. Now that was a spirit-lifter.

After a brief interval during which Craig was punished, Darla was consoled, and the rest of us nearly came to blows over who had been dealt the best color of nail polish, the cake was doled out onto princess-themed party paper plates. All it took was one mouthful for the Enchanted Castle to wholly disenchant. I couldn’t believe it. The white “walls” hummed with a chemical sweetness to rival that of those frosting roses we battled each other for under more standard refreshment circumstances. Please let there be ice cream, I bowed my head to pray. Even if it’s orange sherbet. 

How amusing.  

Thank you Ayun for bringing my birthday to life and showing me how special friends truly are. ♥

ayun

Self-Awareness Starts in Our Own Corner of the World

I had a whole post written but not yet published about self-awareness and hurtful people, just prior to the news about the terrorist attacks in Brussels. My words seemed irrelevant at first, as I watched the frightening images and flooding fear. We are all directly connected to this whether we want to be or not. And as our world continues on its horrific destructive path, I realized that what I wrote a day ahead of the surprise attacks was not only relevant, but necessary, even timely.

It began with a stark contradiction from one morning to the next.

The seasons changed and with spring came several inches of snow. Spring snow is different, with its big, fluffy flakes and a billowy softness like milkweed seeds wafting through the air with no rhyme or reason. As it landed it piled on the ground with such lightness you could almost blow it away with your breath. I didn’t mind its silent, peaceful fall and swift departure. It melted off the pavement when the sun peeked out a few hours later.

We are ready for a steady, warm spring in both temperature and bloom, although there isn’t much life poking up from the ground nor a change in the landscape yet. Even the ocean is still frosty grey, the shoreline wintery at best.

This prickly feel is like the mood and temperament of many people. I am not alone in the ongoing struggle dealing with difficult people – some of whom I don’t even know. I’m afraid to watch the news – disasters waiting to happen that get worse every day. Then there are those in our own circles whose antics leave us suffocating in a cloud of toxic vapor.

It’s safe to assume that people won’t change. This is especially hard when the people we want – or even need to change – are mandatorily part of our lives. The irony is we can’t change anyone, only ourselves. That’s the whole Jesus-Buddha love thing that the world really needs. But not everyone can be like Jesus…or Buddha…or even the Dalai Lama or the Pope.

I read a blog post by a good friend of mine who said although her thoughts were turning to planting spring flowers and vegetables and all things green, bitterness is prevalent in her life. She said the growing hatred and anger in our world not only makes her her feel grumpy, but these weeds of bitterness have spread into her own life. Yet she was clear in her awareness – especially of herself and her ability to feel peaceful in the face of upset, and reinstate her own joy. That’s the key. Self-awareness.

We go around and around trying to escape people in our lives who have no clue they are doing huge damage to others from a lack of self-awareness. We fight it, we try to shield ourselves from it, but it seeps in with such force there’s often no escape. One encounter can leave us overwhelmingly depleted, and as my friend describes, literally choked by the weeds. 

What do we do when we are surrounded by hurtful people and we can’t muster up some Godlike kind-of love to endure, or when we can’t get away? It’s hard to remember in the moment that people who outwardly hurt others, hurt inside themselves. They lash out from their own inner turmoil, which usually has nothing to do with us – although they willingly place blame.

So we are left to just breathe and turn up our own self-awareness. First we remind ourselves that we don’t deserve to be mistreated and then we become mindful of what we choose to plant. 

My friend said it best: “I can show love to those who spread hate. Stay calm in the face of anger. Sew seeds of hope to those who lost hope, joy to those who need a smile, and peace to those who need calm. I can’t change the world, but I can start in my corner. Most importantly, I can never let those seeds die within me.”

What else can we do when faced with terrorism on a world level, or even a personal one. As if by premonition, wisdom flows – through the voices of many.

All that Life asks is that you move through Life with a reverence for Life.   Yet this reverence for Life must be displayed in all things.   Even in the littlest things. Perhaps especially so.   How you treat other Life forms does matter.   It says something about how you want Life to be.  ~ Neale Donald Walsch 

 

Many thanks to my beautiful friend Nancy Predmore for sharing her thoughts and words.

heart change

If You Believe In Moons And Miracles, Read This.

 

full moon

 

It’s that time again when we can dive into full moon bliss, and with a lunar eclipse to boot.

On Wednesday March 23, at about 7:47 a.m., a special lunar eclipse will offer us an open door to decision-making and change…endings and beginnings…discovery and shifts. It’s like resolution time, only with sparkly cosmic power behind it. That’s a miracle in the making.

Here’s how  ~

Let go of what is not serving your authentic, true self, or supporting your soulful purpose. (Habits, routines, people, food, jobs, relationships, defeatist thinking.)

Be truthful with yourself – about your aspirations, about who or what you want in your life, about what your heart needs to move forward.

Pay attention to your dreams and believe that what stands in the way is now removed, and your seeds are sewn.

Embrace change, even the uncomfortable tough stuff. Push through with courage, tune in deeply to your awareness, your environment, your life, and focus only on what brings happiness.

Dream big –  ask for Divine support, then trust the signs and shifts.

Or, simply enjoy the moon.

Fun moon facts for the science-minded:

  • The moon is made of iron, rock, magnesium, silicon, and oxygen and other cool stuff 
  • There’s no such thing as the dark side of the moon 
  • The moon is 238,855 miles from Earth
  • Apollo astronauts discovered moonquakes while on the moon
  • The Earth blocks sunlight during a lunar eclipse
  • The moon moves away from the Earth 1.6 inches per year 
  • The moon’s origin came after a Mars-sized object hit the Earth
  • The Earth’s rotation makes the moon rise
  • Pockmarks on the moon come from the lack of weathering to erode them 
  • This particular eclipse is called penumbral, when moon moves through the outer part of the Earth’s shadow 

 

 

You Never Know What’s On The Other Side Of A Seven-Year Cycle, It Just May Be Good Luck

You know that feeling when we accidentally break a mirror or walk under a ladder and we cringe a little wondering if we are now embarking on seven years of bad luck? Call me superstitious but I believe in the seven-year cycle – of luck, of growth, of the economy, of life.

It may sound crazy, but there is element of truth in it. And if we really pay attention to some of the big shifts in our life – the ones both notice and feel – we would see that they are usually around some seven-year pattern. For real – even say doctors, scientists, and spiritualists.

The stages of growth are birth to age seven, to 14, 21, and so on. There are seven days in a week. We average seven hours of sleep each night. Major stock market crashes seem to occur seven years apart. Certain cells in our body, our energy chakras, lunar cycles and ocean tides – a lot centers on seven.

I just picked up a book that sat on my shelf for no lie – seven years – French Women Don’t Get Fat, looking for an answer to my uncomfortable menopause hormonal bloat – since the French are all quite thin.

As I read about their cultural paradox of eating pastries, butter and cream yet maintaining magazine svelte, I came across the seven-year cycle thing, even there. Like I said, it’s everywhere, we just don’t always pay attention.

But now seven is catching my eye. I unintentionally noticed when it had been exactly seven days since I was surprisingly featured on a national blog site, and it had been seven days since Sir Husband and I celebrated a wonderful anniversary – seven years back together.

I realized the last fourteen years for me have epitomized “the best and worst of times.” Seven years ago I ended seven final years of marital horror to enter into the absolute best reunion with the love of my lifetimes. But due to some crazy people in the mix, it took seven years to normalize our lives in spite of incredible love.

Then I noticed that we had seven good days in a row, which never happens. When we went to Time Warner to swap out a broken remote, they upgraded us to super-speed internet for free. I went to get highlights and my hair stylist charged me half-price. It got even better when the mailman handed me two birthday packages, one from a friend who blew me away with a gift I never, ever expected. Inside a small leather bag she put a big check, so I could get myself some new clothes. The next day I received a generous gift card for $75.00, I could not be more overjoyed. Do I dare say lucky seven?

Is it possible I’m coming out of that “seven years of bad luck” cycle, although I don’t recall breaking a mirror? I’m almost afraid to say it, but if those superstitions are real, then I welcome this shift in the tides. Now I just have to believe that good stuff can really happen without worrying that it won’t. Or at the very least, for another seven years.

Oh – the ingredients in a croissant? Flour, sugar, salt, yeast, milk, butter, eggs. Yep. That’s seven.

 

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