A few years back, I learned about the concept “Word of the Year”.  I always choose one.  Not a choice, really, if you do it right.  Sit quietly and it is given to you.  I thought my word was passion.  But part of the ritual of deciding on your word is to research it – find its meanings and etymology. So I couldn’t choose passion, because it comes from the Latin for pain.  And most of the definitions are related to pain.  Think Passion plays.

Words mean what we want them to mean, of course.  I love to play with both words and numbers, but there are different rules of play.  Numbers do become popular and are sometimes given meaning ,”twenty-one” for example, but  in general the rules of play are straightforward.  Words are more flexible.  “Find your Passion” has become a catch-phrase for those of us who are spiritual but not religious.  Or those who love Oprah and Chopra.  It’s that common 21st Century usage which brought me to the word.  The nagging feeling that if I could settle down and find a passion  I would be better.  I could follow my bliss and be of real use in the world.  Now I’m free!  Molly has let go of her futile search for her passion.  Passion means pain and I don’t have to eat kale.

So I came to enchantment.  ‘Twas a synonym of a synonym of a synonym of passion.  I wonder if there’s a word for “synonym of a synonym of a synonym” – trisynonym perhaps.  Enchantment has a dark side as well – think Snow White or Rapunzel.  But I settled there because enchantment implies magic.  Mystical Merriment is my game and enchantment is my aim. One definition of enchant on http://www.dictionary.com is: “to impart a magic quality or effect to”.  Enchantment is the art of enchanting.  I am a practitioner of the art of imparting a magic quality or effect.  My heart is laughing as I sit and ponder a year of imparting magical qualities to all in my path.  Watch me.

A 30-day journey to love my body

IMG_1062My body is amazing.  Strong legs, long wavy hair, cute toes, smiling eyes.  It does so much good stuff without any instructions from me!  It breathes, circulates blood, digests, thinks, laughs and loves.  It deserves my love and appreciation.  So, when I saw a social media post with photos of someone’s 30-day journey of diet and exercise, with photos, I thought…”Hey, Molly, why don’t you do a 30-day journey to love your body.  Yep, the fat tummy, the achy shoulder, the gray hair.  Every single bit of it.  It will be fun and easy.  And share this 30-day journey.  Document it.  See what happens.”

So, it is day 1.  Today I am loving my body by letting myself off the hook for caring what others think. Deep breath, and I just let go of that.  For a moment.  Guess what?  I am experiencing pretty strong emotion right now.  Maybe you have heard of the Emotional Guidance System.  I learned about it from the book Ask and It Is Given by Jerry and Esther Hicks. What I know is that my emotions guide me to think and act in ways that are best for me.  When negative emotions come up, that is a magic key to unlock a belief that is not serving me.

A belief that does serve me is the belief that Source Energy is loving, personally, towards me.  Source is beaming powerful loving energy to me at all times, and it is my choice whether to allow it in.  Source loves my body, so when I think loving thoughts about my body, that feels good.  But if I try to think things that I”m not ready to really believe, it feels bad.  So I think more general, less specific thoughts.  And the love can shine through again!

So, tomorrow I will let you know about my experiences with letting myself off the hook.  Day 1 begins…


An important lesson

Quantum physicists will tell you that everything is made of energy. So will the beggar on the corner wearing cut off jeans and torn tie-dyed T-shirt. That is why garage sales are so satisfying to me. Here’s what I mean. When you go to a store, (let’s say Wal-Mart), you are bombarded with waves of newly reformed energy. Stuff that used to be other stuff reformed into new stuff. Stuff that has never been touched with love screaming out energy waves of “pick me, pick me”. It’s draining.
Now, consider shopping at a garage sale. You walk around formerly well-loved stuff. It smiles patiently at you, it’s not anxious. Yes, it could end up at the local St. Vincent de Paul’s, or even in the landfill, but it has already lead a full, rich life and is ready to move on. It’s a thrilling shopping experience. You walk around pondering…how much should I offer for this talking frog?…does this stereo work?…who in their right mind would buy a replica of doggie doo-doo made of dark chocolate?…and how much do they want for it? No matter how foolishly ridiculous your purchase may seem to others, you have no reason to be ashamed. You are secure in the knowledge that at least one other person on the planet not only thought it was a good idea to buy that radio shaped like a penis, but they paid more for it than you did.
Perhaps you can tell that I am no stranger to shopping in strangers’ yards. That I can often be found on a Sunday afternoon digging through boxes of dead people’s office supplies. That I probably have more stuffed animals and chipped knickknacks than anyone needs. But there is one thing that, on a bad day, irks the crap out of me. A poorly constructed yard sale sign. So, listen up, people. What I am about to teach you could save your life. Because one day I could snap, dig out that sling shot I bought from the retired naval officer, and start shooting. There is a very simple but widely misunderstood fact. The most important part of your sign is the address. People want to know where you are. We are already out, driving around looking for off the beaten path sales. We DO NOT CARE that in your opinion it’s the “biggest sale ever”. We don’t care if you have decided to call it a yard sale, carport sale, estate sale or “GIANT” sale. You may write that part of your sign in small print. But please, for the love of God, write the address nice and big. That’s all. That’s it. Don’t be the reason that I knock over one more cyclist who gets in the way while I drive down the bike lane trying to read the address scrawled at the bottom of your neon poster board. If you don’t understand why I am so passionate about this, then please just don’t have a sale. Donate your stuff to the local methadone clinic and go see a movie. You are a danger to yourself and others with your lackadaisical sign creation and must be stopped. Thank you.

Laughter is better than medicine


Some people say that laughter is the best medicine.  I don’t agree.  Laughter is simply the best.  In my world, there is nothing better than sitting with friends, finding a funny notion and then running with it until we are figuratively peeing in our pants.  But I can also do this alone.  For example, I was sitting at Peet’s coffee last week, minding my own business (sort of) when I overheard a conversation about cemeteries.  OK, I know some of you are thinking, “what’s funny about cemeteries?”  Well, let me tell you.  Apparently they are filling up!  So much so that cemetery salesmen are urging a clever money making scheme.  Why in the world do you need two plots?  Just bury mom on top of dad and sell the other plot!  Genius.  I did not make this up; I simply overheard it at Peet’s.  Now, why stop there?  Dig deep.  Really deep.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Yolanda can squeeze in there.  A young, healthy person with a large enough family could start a side business.  So please, if you are out there, struggling in this economy, take heart.  Go to the cemetery.  Pay a visit to grandpa, and let him know company’s comin’!