love is a compass

The world laments hardship. It would be easy to indulge into it with a mere click and resign into its normalcy.

Certain days may happen and feel like demanding brats. But what kind of negativity slayer would I be to allow such days to spoil my world?

This year is a total turnaround from last. From a space of silence, noise that hid within the complex harmony of life exposed itself. Good friends sat with my silence and gave me stories of strength and visions of hope when I couldn’t write. I decided to study flamenco dance so that my love for art and expression can have a voice, rhythm and structure.

How to save a life? Therapy? I chose art. Reading music gave me blurring headaches, I was too broken for words and all color and design lost its click appeal. Dance was it; specifically flamenco. I immersed myself, learning new counts, words, how to hold my arms. I learned choreography to bulerias, tangos, sevillanas, guajiras, fandangos, siguiriyas. Dance pieced me back together along with a handful of dear people.

This year I began playing the piano again and the blurring headache is at bay. I’m studying flamenco at least 5 hours a week. I’m having friends over and feel like making new ones. I’ve returned to my Filipino dance group and we’re rehearsing at least 8 hours a week preparing to perform at the Getty in a couple of weeks….the Skirball and Hollywood Bowl later this summer. My truest friends shined during my darkest year and helped a silent artist find its way.

This negativity slayer learned that no battle is won alone. The sequoia tree does not stand alone. Below the ground level is a constellation of intertwining roots. And due to my roots, I was able to heal in silence, find music again through dance, feel comfortable to perform and find the words to say hello rugged angels. It is possible to love your life and live a life worth living even after the darkest and silent time.

JNET

SPEECH: Featherweights

My mother is the church lady; specifically, the Catholic.... church lady. And though I have had my respective rebellions with her, I adore her. She is a sweetheart and she will give you a rosary as a gift before saying goodbye.

And before our goodbyes are complete, she will remind me to pray to my guardian angel. To which, I reply,

"I don't have a guardian angel mom. I have a league of angels."

Good Evening, Madame President, Fellow Toastmasters and Honored Guests. Have you ever said hello to your league of angels? Tonight, I present project number five of the competent communicator manual, titled "Featherweights", sponsored by Gucci, Greyhound and Amtrak.

When I turned 16, my mother gave me a new watch. She has this thing about getting me timepieces at recognized milestones. I have a watch for my first day in kindergarten and a watch for college graduation. Aren't moms great? They come up with the best gift ideas.

So you can guess my reaction when I forgot my sweet 16 gift in the piano room and didn't remember it til after rehearsal... after several hours. I was a wreck.

I ran to the practice room. Nothing. I had taken it off to practice and had ran off to class without it and it was now gone.

Mind you, I had lost my physics book the day before and I have a mother that goes through the list. Your mother may have a similar list. The list of "things you have lost". I went through the motions of checking it with the music department head.

"Has anyone turned in a gold watch?"

"No."

This was duplicated at the school's security office and the lost and found department. I wrote out my details and returned to the piano room to cry. I was going to have to go home and tell my mother that I had lost my watch. I LOVED that watch more than my physics book, more than my senior class ring, more than the countless partners of earrings that are solo. It was gone and I was going to have to go through another speech. Those speeches didn't exactly engender closeness between my mom and I.

My mother and I are going to fight about stuff, I thought? Again? My thoughts were racing. I hate fighting. I'd rather die.

And that's when I woke up. It was a watch. A watch! And this list my mom had was choking me. I lost a watch my mother gave for my 16th birthday which I loved and I was going to have to tell her that I lost it. That's it. I had to tell my mom to drop the list because it was doing my head in. I didn't want "stuff" to affect our relationship. I didn't want to be afraid of gifts from there on.

And so I prayed and wrote my note to put up in the practice room hallway...

"LOST: Gold watch, if found, please return at Professor Russell's office."

I didn't have a chance to put it on the wall. While I was writing, someone wrote and posted a note in the hallway,

"FOUND: Gold watch, please go to the school office."

The last time I lost that watch it took a couple of months to find me. I lost it at the end of the D line.. the green line train to Newton which also doubles as the Greyhound station. By the time I had realized that I didn't have my watch on me, I was already in Cambridge to work for the day.

"You lost your gold watch at the train station? Forget it. You'll never see it again."

I got a lot of condolences and reality talks. That didn't stop me from posting up signs about my watch and talking to the desk person at Greyhound. Days passed and turned into weeks and further yet. I finally received a call on Thanksgiving morning.

"Yeah, I'm calling about your watch. I had found it sitting on top of the subway fare machine. I want to leave it for you but I don't want to leave it with anyone at the station. I'm going to put it in a blank package and leave it with the person at the desk. Can you be there within the half hour to pick it up?"

I retrieved my watch from a shocked desk clerk at the station. I came home with that watch for Thanksgiving.

It was a watch. That's why I got it. Right? Everyone has something they are sentimental over and if you put a sign up and say a prayer. You'll get it back.

Yes?

I recently was at the Amtrak station in Glendale on a Friday night. They don't sell tickets there. I bought my ticket to San Diego from Union Station a couple of days prior in planning a trip to my niece's birthday. Due to technical issues the trains were delayed and a group of us decided to take a cab to Union Station to catch the next train there.

In the scramble, I lost my ticket. The fellows who took the cab with me searched the path I walked from the taxi drop to the Amtrak desk and according to Amtrak policy, you have to produce a ticket to receive a refund. What a pain. I bought a second pair of business class tickets. That's another $100. I made peace with the inconvenience and figured that people have bigger losses in Vegas. Any bet placed on my niece is a winner.

You can imagine my surprise when stepping down from my return train hearing a voice call out my name. In what amounted to a blur of a moment, someone put my lost tickets into my hand and walked away.

So I have guardian angels... a league of them.

But I don't think angels are there to fix things. I think they are there to cheer you on to making decisions and confirm that things are perfect. My mother no longer gets wound up over lost things. The imaginary wedge between her and I over stuff was lifted when I made a decision to face her and tell her I didn't want material things to sit between us. Is there an angel of lost tickets and watches?

No, but I think there are some angels that teach goodness comes from nameless faces. Maybe you have similar stories.

Maybe it was you who was my featherweight champion? Hello :) then and thank you.

Thank you, Madame President, Fellow Toastmasters and Honored Guests.


JNET

SPEECH: Sleeper, Awake

[Open with Reveille]

Madam President, Fellow Toastmasters and Honored Guests. My name is JNET and this is my 4th speech which I have named "Sleeper, Awake".

Do you remember making forts out of bedsheets, climbing trees: exploring?

Maybe you can still remember fascinations with caterpillars and a once unwavering belief in fairy circles. Money paid from the tooth fairy, M&M's melting color into your hand, and a sky full of stars. And maybe it feels like a dream away.

Does growing up make the trees less green as we worry about rainforests or does aging make sunsets undazzling by the constant repetition of days followed by another day? Is life an overwhelming influx of color and information that either bogs or bores one's attentions from thoughts to smell flowers and feel happy.

You'd rather smell coffee... Now THAT'S peace of mind to you.

Your days of fireflies and butterflies are now mad blurs of work and holidays. Does that cup of coffee really wake you up? Do you feel like an eternal explorer and this moment an adventure? Or have we fallen asleep? Maybe suffering in the silence of a noisy life. Lulla-lies; lulla-byes.

Some sleepwalk. Maybe many of us and we have bruises we can't clearly explain.

How do we best name a word that speaks of the trance of indifference or distraction that we find ourselves woken from? What is it called to be returned to mindfulness from the challenging yet sometimes dulling drama of life? What is it called to figuratively pace around in a half sleep arms outstretched but not feeling the wakefulness of wonder?

What wonder is there worth being wakeful of beyond the bliss of childhood? The world has war, greed and injustice. But what if you can be captured by your imagination again and look at the world with refreshed eyes?

[play "sleeper, awake", cantata 140, 4th movement]

"Sleeper, Awake!" Specifically the 4th movement of Bach's Cantata 140. Familiar melody? Sometimes played at weddings... it is a processional piece. With the chorus, the tenors sing against an orchestral counterpoint. It is a joyous piece, the text is a call to mindfulness. The procession is approaching ... Are you prepared to join in? This is different from hearing Reveille.

Allow me to be a tenor here bearing a message in the procession of life. Allow me to also share that I understand the rigor of life can be both exhausting and exhilarating. Are you awake?

Am I awake? I keep in mind, Bach's joy.

What is it to suffer from sleepwalking? In its observed clinical sense, the subject does normal things that one does when awake; cleaning, walking. Their eyes are open but their minds are in a different place. Memory fails due to an unconsciousness of behavior. Sleepwalking is more commonly experienced in people dealing with high levels of stress, anxiety and it can affect people of any age.The disorder can go unnoticed unless brought to the attention by someone else..

Sleeper, Awake!

Who here has dealt with stress in unwise manners and yet has climbed a tall tree and came down safely? In one situation there is a perhaps regretful fall and in another situation, a happy return to the ground for a further adventure.

Are we sleepwalking? I pose the question to give you a perspective to play with and Bach's, Sleeper, Awake as a lens. Are you bumping against things and not exploring? I don't think you've outgrown yourself. I don't believe being a sensible adult is to leave wonder for small children. Perhaps, we doze off sometimes.

Reveille is not the call I bring to you. I wish to wake up the dreamer in you in this procession called life. I will close with a few lines I wrote in a poem named, "Awake, Dreamer."

POEM: Awake, Dreamer!

How many times will you look at the blue sky
before you forget to notice it?

At what point will you say you are satisfied
with seeing enough full moons?

You have an imagination
that has built castles in your childhood...
What do you build now, Dreamer?

From a cry you now speak...
What have you to say, Friend?
You are someone with a story
and you are the hero in every one of them.

Awake, Dreamer! Speak, Friend!

Sleeper, Awake.... Thank you Madam President, Fellow Toastmasters and Honored Guests.

JNET

I Care For No Opinion

It has been brought to my attention several times that I really ought to watch my thoughts and how I express them.

E: Why don't you ask R for his opinion?

JNET: If R has something important to share with me, I think he would've shared it by now. Perhaps he trusts my judgement.. And if I really cared for his opinion I would've asked by now.

HA: Stay with safe topics and be agreeable. Things will be easier for you, if you take my advice.

JNET: You're the only one that seems to have a conflict with my ideas. I don't think you really understand me.

HA: You are naive and idealistic. I think I speak for several of your friends. I don't want to mention names and its only for your own good. Get in step.

The above is a simple collage of a re-occuring theme. Expressing one's self... even out of compassion and truth doesn't always make perfect landings on everyone....

But what if the majority of the people who know me would've never made the conclusions that a slim minority does.... should I change the way I am so that I can attempt at winning 100% ? Should I have to second guess myself and wonder if I've made the acceptance line after I've met a goal that I am happy enough with?

It is one thing to make special arrangements... like making sure your vegetarian friends are happy guests by preparing something special for them. But in the party of life, I don't think anyone has the right to tell the host how to entertain.

Can a guest tell you what you should serve or how you ought to dress and what you ought to talk about?

How would life go if we lived all on the opinion of the loudest complainer of the crowd? Wouldn't you have to change everything with each different place you encountered?

In the end, it only seems to make sense to be myself. I care for no opinion. I don't mind listening and settling out misunderstandings. But to change myself simply due to an opposing opinion.... I see no sanity in that.

Would you change yourself if I told you...

I don't understand you. Be like me and I'll accept you and so will the rest...

Ahhh... how the "voice of friendship" sometimes speaks....

JNET

SPEECH: The Stillness Of Me

Good evening Madam President, Fellow Toastmasters and Honored Guests.

My name is JNET and I am presenting my first speech:

Seeing me in this dress, you would probably find it hard to believe that I am an introvert. I am someone who romances silence even though I am a musician and teacher. I am someone who appreciates stillness even though I am a dancer.

I'd rather hear about you but I have 10 boxes to fill. My ambition tonight is for you to learn a bit about myself by sharing a particular day in my life that occurred, a particular day of the week in my life and how my life is colored thusly. And to also to share in such a way that connects us despite respective cultures, ages, and experience....

Firstly, a favorite quote by a wise Jesuit priest...

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

We are NOT human beings have a spiritual experience. WE ARE SPIRITUAL beings HAVING a HUMAN experience...

And what is experience to me? It's an opportunity to wear a costume and be present on stage to play with the human experience.

I think my very first human experience was a very positive one.

My mother says that on the day I was born at a tiny military hospital in the Philippines, not a single baby girl had been borne there for at least a month. I can only imagine the greeting I received then. But I know a genuine hello today really stays with me. Those passing hellos from the hospital in the Philippines, to grade school teachers, college professors, and kind neighbors, now deliver me here to Toastmasters so that I may address you and ask you to wonder about your very first human experience.

Do you care that I've lived in Florida, Virginia, San Diego or Boston? Does it matter to you the things I've done along the way? How do I best give you a sense of who I am within six minutes? And how does an introvert get away with making her first speech in a ball gown anyway?

I think my friends here will agree with me that I am having a lot of fun with this thing called life. In many ways, Life is like a gala. Should I ever lose my shoe at a given moment, I am still the princess.

My family and friends are the jewels that adorn me. The education given me by professors, mentors and directors in my school of life has given me color and sound.

But I don't need this dress to explain the canvas of my life. Instead let me share with you my Sundays. This spiritual being out on a human experience has not been in church as much as she'd like these past several months. Instead, I've been at dance rehearsal at 10am every Sunday morning. My hair put up in a bun, dressed in a t-shirt or tank top with petticoats over yoga pants. My dance group is preparing to perform at the Ford this coming September 13th.

I will not deny that being able to dance in beautiful costumes thrills me. But I also get a thrill out of the arduous rehearsal. For 8 hours, we'll be taught basics to put 40 dancers into choreography about the stage. On a blank canvas of dancers in petticoats, Philipino culture, art, and history is put. We all look the same on Sunday.

We all come from busy lifestyles. We are all tired. We are all excited.

I go home by 6pm. Sometimes I'll go to a salsa dance class. Most times, I need to be home early so that I can broadcast my internet radio show.

"Good evening Los Angeles and beyond, Welcome to More Than a Headshot on blogtalkradio, and this is your host JNET, perpetual negativity slayer, bridge builder and lemonade maker, here with another episode for all you rugged angels out there.... "

Life has not been easy. Life is not easy. I've moved so much that I never kept a childhood friend. My father died while I was in grade school. I am not happy with my pirouettes. I wish I could be more focused in my writing. I wish I didn't know the thrive survive divide. My mom is about to have surgery and the challenge to take care of her between my brothers and myself ...

ahhh... that's the stage getting hot, I suppose.

Some ask in their heads... "what would Jesus do?".. I also ask... "what would Beethoven do" .. What would a perpetual negativity slayer do? How do I make something beautiful out of this?

pursue a mastered life, a masetro's life... compose beauty, passion, and possibility. i know many of you know that still place. that place where a moment to be content, sentimental, or thankful takes a peaceful stretch to heave a happy sigh before getting clobbered over the head a dozen sugar glass bottles.

From the still place of myself... I say hello and pleased to meet you... to meet you and speak to the still place of you.

JNET

SS: Composing a Symphony and Not a Jingle

E: "What are you looking for?"

JNET: "Truth... True Love"

I've never had a confidant; a someone to share my every day thoughts with. Ever....

Ever...ever... ever. And I never craved that type of audience. Being happy with my life never entailed a captured or captivated witness. A full life is difficult to unload every day plus the given divine moment is sacrificed.

Every person who's known me from birth knows that I am as happy catching up with a friend once a week as the person I catch up once a year and that I take no offense if time stretches longer than that. If I need to work out my thoughts, I rarely run to a friend.

I work out my thoughts alone, at the piano bench, at my yoga practice, in my writing. And then I go to my friends to let them know of my plans of how I intend to handle the situation. At that point I have rehearsed scenarios in my mind in how I would like my life to play out.

I am an introvert that finds fuel in the silence of life that practices understanding emotional noise. A musican interpreting myself through patterns of tempos and dynamics and writer who pens that path I walk.

Where in this life of mine is there need for a confidant? I work out things alone and trust things to be in their rightful place. I watch people try to possess one another, sharing secrets in serial official and un-official relationships only to have chunks of great memories and a lost friend archived to banished parts of their own soul.

That's what many people do to their lost loves. Losing pieces of their selves.

I couldn't deal with a piano bench full of unfinished music. Or pieces of songs where pages have gone missing. And a bench of one pager children's songs will drive me batty from boredom and being unchallenged.

So I am a bit surprised that Life has given me a confidant not because I need one but simply to have one. And I am a bit surprised because I have others who beg for a chance to know my daily thoughts (and then some) that inspire me to further seek solitude and give them theirs.

But, I have someone here who is actually listening to my silence and is not a muddle of propositions trying to mold me. And I am especially surprised that I am enjoying it despite the imperfections and awkwardness. He makes himself welcome to my world.

Last night, I had a moment where I just stared at him and didn't know what to say... And I felt better when I got that he didn't mind the silence and that he wasn't chasing to fill it with something. He was happy.

No matter how far I have gone to show him the door, told him I'd be happy to have him in the audience if he'd prefer to give up being first chair, he's insisted to that he can read my music. He keeps surprising me...

Can he take on the cadenza, I wonder?

JNET

Dizzying Freedom

"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom."

Soren Kierkegaard

Hmmm... a positive way to view anxiety.

It's way better than experiencing anxiety as a weighty burden to be saved from. I've had much on my plate lately and Anxiety has been riding shotgun on my rollercoaster. Among the many pieces of advice to "save myself from struggle" the worst one is that I ought to get married. Good God! How can anyone weigh in that Love is a factor when the motivation of Convenience breathes heavily on someone's head?

Fortunately my love supply from friends and family is abundant that I can't even begin looking at a guy in a savior light.

This past month, this past week has been FULL of DRAMA.

Yesterday, I spent the morning in court to give my two cents at a public hearing. Developers have been hungrily staring at my building and think it's perfect for tearing down and selling 900K condos. I did my civic duty. It was nice to be addressed at "Miss JNET, constituent".

The prior week, I learned of the hearing. What? My building is up for demolition?

I so NOT have the time for this.... It's enough just to worry about daily life... to have to worry about where to live and how... yadda yadda... puts my mind into outer space. But a tractor beam of sense came about and I found myself on the phone, knocking on doors and making new contacts.

I thought I had enough to think about. Life is running at a dizzying and sometimes nauseating speed. And yet, I can't say that Life is having a personal go at me. I have to forgive Life and find a way to say thank you. I'm up late writing to neighbors and council people. I'm up writing for my blog, my book, my radio show. I'm enjoying the students I have and I'm taking the extra time off in stride before my schedule goes crazy again.

Anxiety is not hopelessness to me... it is to experience the dizzyness of freedom.

Life does get better... Doesn't it? Such is the topic for tomorrow morning's blogradio show of Jnetsworld. Call in if you're free :)

JNET

Lessons From Beethoven

How to overcome misery....

Mulling over the topic for my show, I landed upon Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, "Ode to Joy"

Who knows better about putting OUT misery than the maestro himself. He never heard a note of his final symphony. Beethoven was deaf. He had given up playing the piano years and years before he composed the "Ode to Joy." Frustration at hearing sound fade away must've been profound...

And in the complete deep silence where only he could hear his thoughts did he write his Ninth Symphony.

What is Joy? Beethoven postulates... Is it power and dignity he poses through his first movement... Is it playfulness and cheer? The second movement is a blizzard of laughing notes. Is it peace and tranquility? The third movement celebrates like a sunset saying good evening.

No, Beethoven says to all these suggestions.

The fourth movement mows down the roses, the poises, the blizzard of baby's breath and a theme swells from a tiny low voice; perhaps the voice that Beethoven hears in the silence. The familiar theme that we all know as his Ninth grows and develops and dances finally from the choir.

Beethoven in his despairing deafness DEFIES to be a silent miserable soul. Instead, he creates a masterpiece.

What is joy? What is it that Beethoven teaches?

Joy breathes in consciousness... in the ability to think beyond the circumstance.. Beethoven created beyond his deafness, beyond the cruelties from a violent parent, beyond the limits of the common minute... and created himself in a way that eternity can sing his soul's frustrations, his struggles, and his hope and joy.

That.... is living life as an artform.

Listen to my blogtalkradio segment on Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" with special co-host Miss Diva of Dysfunctional Diatribe.

JNET

The Illusion of Cycles

"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending." Maria Robinson N: "JNET, I am stuck in a cycle." After some thought, something dawned on me. JNET: "N, is it possible to consider that the cycle does not exist. Perhaps the cycle is a superstition." A superstition? Those cycles of failures in life, one's shortcomings... a superstition? Why not? Some people follow superstitions for good luck, some create the opposite. It seems more expansive to take on a spiral paradigm, that one's slinky is either ascending or descending... depending on where one intends to move along... Whether one progresses on not is not a cycle... it's inertia. To believe in only seeing the recurring "cycle" of life's failures and mishaps sounds like a way to adopt superstitious notions and dropping one's power... and responsibility... SUPERSTITION: an irrational belief arising from ignorance or fear Some thoughts to play with. "do not bend the spoon, that is impossible" there is NO spoon

The UnHomogenized Human Being

To walk to one's own drumbeat.

I've spoken with some that romanticize it is the the freedom enjoyed by the poor. To live in a self-made house on a plot of land, able to grow one's food, free of big brother, big sister, mom, dad, wfie, husband, kids, a boss.... THE BOSS... the MAN... the GOVERNMENT.

Maybe one can find freedom in a commune? At least some will find company with like-minded kin folk. Is happiness found in the village life?

Many readily scoff that happiness can be found among the wealthy. There are countless anecdotes about the miserable millionaire. I don't think the answer lies within a certain social strata but learning within the different terrains is an educational opportunity that life provides.

So many classrooms... from the shelters to the country clubs... from countries to urban meccas. The beach teaches different lessons than the mountains... The intentional communites, alternative communities, artist colonies, temples and churches...

Boston's Wally's Jazz Club people, Bevery Hill's martini sippers at "The Club" at the Peninsula, Melrose Ave's goth and grunge, Haight-Ashbury, Harvard Square's students, drum circle hippies, the entrepreneurs, scientists, jazz people, rock people, classical people, so many flavors...

Can you keep your drumbeat and enter someone's song... just to visit and create a quiet background beat and see if you can make art? Do you kill your curiousity before questioning your motives for doing so? Do you know why you choose what you choose?

Do you know the signature of your voice and how powerful you really are as a unique, learning, and expanding human being?

Some things to think about while you trek upon your journey... to create your flavor, your sound, your voice.

JNET

Minding the Boundaries of My Piece of Heaven

I let go of a student today. She was also someone on my forgiveness "stage" during this past weekend's exercise. K had not shown up to her appointments with me for the last three consecutive weeks and during my brief calls with her all she could say..

"Let's reschedule, I'll call you later." Later came and passed. I sat in my teaching studio minus my student another week. I left a message on her phone.

"K, I am a bit confused here. I am at the studio and you are not here. Perhaps you are on your way. Please call me." She did not return that call until three weeks later.

She showed up at my home today wishing to resume her lessons and then she wanted to discuss paying me less since she wasn't going to meet me at the studio.

And that is when I got that I had to let her go and that I was giving her her final lesson.

"K, it is true that I must be compensated with money for my time teaching but there is something more valuable than dollars here that needs to be valued and that is time. I teach because I am committed to growth not money. I only want committed students who communicate well with me and want the best for their own life and making sure I have such types of students makes it a pleasure to do what I love and my teaching practice is financially stable and prosperous. You, on the other hand, had shown yourself as questionably committed. I usually refuse to take unstable students and if they want a new chance with me, I don't let them dictate how much my time is worth to me."

And then she told me that I was a bad business person though a very good teacher and that I ought take her money because it was money.

And that's when I showed her the door and told her that she didn't owe me a single cent..

I gave her some options to think about. I don't know if she understood about respecting time and being committed. Perhaps she'll get that lesson down the road when she studies with another. I wished her well as I closed the door.

Am I a bad business person? I think if any of my other students were to witness the exchange, they would be understand. If I had more students like K, I wouldn't have the energy or enthusiasm to continue doing what I love and I would live a life of instablity chasing money in exchange ... for what?

I happily and peaceably had my goodbye with K. I dicate my worth and not someone else and it is up to me to mind my own boundaries to mind my personal piece of heaven.

JNET

Struck Down By The Weight of A Feather

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."

Mark Twain

The weekend was full of interesting conversations. The most engaging ones happened alone in my head.

With the coaching of Christopher Howard leading a sea of souls through their individual journey, I docked front and center before the stage with my eyes closed like everyone else for the "Forgiveness Exercise."

Was it a visual meditation? I don't know how to label the experience. It was profound... and a refreshing break from intensive lectures on neurolinguistic programming, the UNconscious mind, imprinting, hypnosis and the history of personal development technologies, psychology, and psychoanalysis.

In the dark private space of my thoughts, I was asked to bring before my "stage" people I had known through-out my life. We began with childhood friends and then moved through the phases of life, recalling those that we felt we wanted to get complete with and be free of any energetic ties that brought up feelings of disappointment, sadness, hurt, anger, etc...

I was coached to ask these folks on my "stage" if they stood for my personal evolution and spiritual journey... if the answer was yes, they were excused, if not, they remained.

I "asked" each person the question and became present to the overwhelming truth of YES. Yes, they all were a stand for my growth and journey. YES, I was LOVED... for a finite time frame within the Infinite, LOVED POWERFULLY despite the flawed human interactions. And what got between our relationship was human fraility.. baggage... baggage that no one was born with but somehow found along the road. We all became connected due to common ties or common baggage between us but in the course could not or chose not to forge onward. And then we became attached for whatever selfish reasons, validation, security, wanting to avoid lonlines, change which made for very unhappy unattaching...

I got that there wasn't a single bad, hurtful person in my life. Just hurtful things happened and it was up to me how I wanted to enjoy them in my life and freely detach from past hurts.

The forgiveness exercise took me to many places in my mind and the most profound part was yet to come.

I was then asked to bring back everyone back "onstage" and to look at the web of connection between us. A lot of people had crossed my path and I looked at them floating above like in a dream.

And then I was told to sever the web and free everyone to move on to their own journey.

The stage emptied and the image of the severed web was dramatic... imagine a floor covered with cobwebs. It looked devastating.

As the web started to fade a feather floated down and surprised me.

One solitary feather, bright white, floated down to the empty stage that was now a black void.

And I got that everyone that crossed my life was really an angel (proverbially) and those moments that I attached disappointment and hurt to.... were really lessons.

From the void I was present to love and peacefully said my goodbyes so that I may freely again choose my hellos afresh.

I was struck down by the weight of a feather this weekend and I saw forgiveness with new eyes.


JNET

Making Suggestions Into My Subconscious

"There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living."

Nelson Mandela

I'm blowing a kiss into my mind...

What is your UNconscious mind and why the hell should you CARE???

Let's see, consciously, you get to choose what you want to wear, what to eat, what you want to think about at a given second...

Your unconscious mind meanwhile helps you with the stuff you don't want to spend every moment concentrating on DOING... when to beat your heart, move the cells around, where to store memories, process your food.

I learned this weekend that your conscious mind is dwarfed by the command system of your unconscious system... It's not a 50/50 deal. It's more like 95/5.

Well that's good to not have to worry about what to do with air, where to direct blood and neurons...

UNFORTUNATELY, the unconscious mind makes a lot of judgements from it's vast storage of memory that we may not be aware of at every given second.

I attended a breakthrough" weekend in order to GET REAL with myself and proactively take on inner conversations of 'life is a struggle", "success means working like you're climbing Mt. Everest"... These limiting ways of thinking don't make space for creating ease in my creativity and I want to be a kung fu master at my life.

It was worth my time and I will be sharing my thoughts. If Christopher Howard is in your nick of the woods, I recommend that you attend his event... I'll even leave you with a link to attend for free.

Know Thyself... An unloved unconscious mind is a terrible thing...

I'm blowing a kiss into my mind...

JNET

WORD UP: Behold, I Make All Things New

Rev. 21: 5

I can't seem to find a dictionary that gives justice to the word BEHOLD.

It doesn't merely mean a fancy way of saying "looky looky" and it is not a gloried way of say "tada!"

To "behold" for me means... to open one's awareness to that which is and has always been before one and to command one's attention to behold is to put aside distraction, breathe and become rigorously present to an unchanging truth.

To behold is to be in the space of an eternal now and be free of the imposition of past and the imposition of "future's" demands. To behold is to be still... and in the stillness be renewed by re-claiming or reconnecting to one's original design...

The one where God declared that all is good.

Happy Easter.

JNET

Stretching Lessons

I am tired and restless.

I wish I could lean upon someone and not have to be so strong and steely... Wearing pink and pigtails yet having to lead, or plan or delegate polarizes me. After hearing so many discouraging stories this week, I still choose to believe that water exists for this flower...

Overhead this week...

Girl on dating guy for five years: "I found a girl's necklace under his pillow. He said it's been there since he's moved in. How stupid is that!"

Girl on dating a guy for a year... has housekey and lives there part-time to a girl she found out was dating her guy also for the past year: "Didn't you see any of my clothes in the closet? Our pictures?

Girl 2: "No, there was nothing. And I had a key too."

Girl 1: "You must've seen my toothbrush..."

Girl 2: "Was it red?"

Girl 1: "Yes! That's my toothbrush! He gave that to me."

Girl 2: "Eww... He gave ME that toothbrush. We've been using the same toothbrush."

I don't know how their stories end but I do wonder about how they began and the dynamic that enabled deceit to thrive. How do smart and beautiful women, confident in many ways find themselves in such situations?

I almost got caught up in a drama of my own but was saved by my disdained pragmatic way of slicing and dicing up life. Miss Impossible just doesn't get emotional or attached to anything that doesn't add up to worthy. While my counterparts couple up to cover the ill-feeling of being alone, I grow great friendships, enjoy my solitude, and look forward to meeting someone who'll shine in kindness and grace above my dearest friends.

Someone who won't lie about "unexplained" items in their possession... someone who won't make me share a toothbrush with the other lover... someone who knows what they want and won't use fear or intimidation to gain it.

I should "lower my standards" I've been told. Shall I live in the state of fear that seems to create more madness into the human condition? Date anyone, someone breathing so that I don't need to spend Friday night with myself? Stop working on my piano, dance or yoga technique so that I can have a relationship to speak of even if for a brief stint? Chase someone, anyone or let anyone catch me so that I can have a story to gab with the girls?

He's great, he makes six figures, he doesn't know what to do with the current girlfriend... go for it!!! Love is scarce, get what you can when you can before it's too late....

What a way to live...

There are two ways to live; by one's fears on one's dreams.

Which way do you stretch?

JNET

Which Way To Take The Stairs?

Would you prefer going up to watch a spectacular sunset or go downhill where it is darker and colder?

It seems like an obvious choice but changing the "view" to a different dimension makes for some interesting hiking.

"JNET, I thought I was picky. You are pickier than me. Have you thought of lowering your expectations?"

If I want to enjoy a view or perspective of life, why should I sacrifice my own dreams and fulfill someone else's dreams at the expense of my own? Why should I take the stairs down a few notches so that I can have the almighty status symbol of a boyfriend? oooh ahhhh

It is the decade of my life where my mom, friends, and family are all sitting on the edge of their seats wondering when I'll jump on the marriage and children boat. It seems to be the ONLY topic that makes everyone excited. Though I have enthusiastic thoughts, I haven't met anyone worth sailing with. And the ones that have caught my interest are focused on their personal stairway. We say to each other... "see you at the top."

Love without the impulse to possess but rather to encourage "becoming" the fullness of one's possibility.... I suppose it's unconventional but it is not without a great deal of love and passion... the energy is simply transmuted.

If I am fulfilled and enjoying a certain sense of prosperity within the pleasure of my solitude, why would I want to inherit someone's certain shortcomings just to "be with someone"? If I work really hard at being the way I am and go through a great deal of discipline to create my life, why would I choose someone I couldn't admire?

I don't want to be "taken care of" by a sweetheart.... that's the mere frosting to a much more complex and exciting cake.

This evening, I had dinner with Mr. B who amused himself with my company. He finally got that though he is charmed with me and thinks I'm his perfect match, he hasn't revealed much that has inspired me to think that he qualifies a place in my heart beyond friendship.

Of course I love, I told him. I deeply love my friends.... ahh but what I'm looking for is another conversation and language. I don't put anyone "out". Friendship is a place where I listen and witness lives.

It is easy to enjoy sunsets and spectacular views... but most will retreat to their caves. I want to know what's at the top. Mr. B dreams of the top but retreats to a cave. In friendship, he admits this to me and is on his path. He leaves a lot for me to question as opposed to feel reassured over. At this junction, aligning myself beyond friendship would make me his cavegirl. I want someone braver. And knowing the risks or challenges that I sometimes take, my choices would be disagreeable to someone wishing to take a "safer route". I need someone who dreams of the top AND dreams at the top and overcomes challenges with grace and fortitude. That is loving life with freedom.

This is how I see life... I don't want to dream of it from a cave or be someone's cavegirl. I love my life and follow the light that delights me.

JNET

Commanding the Mood

I was greeted with a mixed bag of bittersweets for Valentine's Day yesterday. Ambivalent "Happy Single Awareness Day" greetings from "singles" as well as sweet Happy Heart Day greetings from my students and their parents.

I do have my crush (sigh... the mathematician) but I don't have any official papers on him. My crushy feelings seem to suspend in time as he completes his studies. I haven't seen him in like FOREVER. AND I don't think there is anything WRONG or BAD with that. Isn't it a good thing to enjoy solo thoughts and living? I've been living a pretty full life without a boyfriend in constant tow.

Once I finally nest and set up house, my solo thoughts will be on a new routine. I have yet to grow (up) HA! blossom and be inspired to that next phase of life.

Yesterday, I listened to a few singles complain and rant about V day.

"It's just another day. Who cares?"

They are jaded over the holiday before having fallen in love.

Where OH where....is that simple innocence of just being happy over the promise and romantic notion that love exists and appreciating the different shades of love that Life blesses one is already amazing?

Last night, I had a champagne evening with friends. We toasted to our futures of great promise and enjoyed an evening of gratitude. Where other singles might have chosen to poop on the promise of love, my friends toasted to a future of more love and had a great night to not boo hoo our single life away in self-pity.

To those that were filled with bitterness and loneliness, I have to wonder how does one somehow believe that happiness is dependent on someone else and not one's own self?

How can one finally celebrate and enjoy love when one does not believe life has so much promise and already there are things to be grateful for? If you think cynically about love, what will you create in your future versus if you thought otherwise?

I command my mood and enjoy my life and look forward to it further unfolding. My friends and I celebrated a happy night, being single, and aware...

AWARE: informed; alert; knowledgeable; sophisticated

It's a good thing to be a sophisticated happy single.... YES? I think it's SEXY!!!

JNET

Miss Valentine

I am splashing along.

"Why don't you JUST PICK SOMEONE!?!" Is a question occasionally put to me.

It's a funny and curious demand. But like this picture above, I am simply enjoying the delightful ride of life. The valentine vise grip of expection is approaching and I've already planned for an evening at home with friends thus escaping fulfilling pretentious airs over romance.

I'm going to be everyone's Miss Valentine, giving everyone a pretty card and treat just like third grade in Mrs. Comiak's class.

OHHH PICK, PICK, PICKLES!!!

Pick is an awful word. Let Mr. Webster elaborate why I'll not PICK...

PICK:

1) to choose or select from among a group
2) to seek and find occasion for; provoke
3) to steal the contents of
4) to open (a lock) with a device other than the key, as a sharp instrument or wire, esp. for the purpose of burglary.
5) to detach or remove piece by piece with the fingers
6) to pierce, indent, dig into, or break up (something) with a pointed instrument

You get the idea. PICK is not a pretty word in JNETSWORLD. The nuances around the word are manipulative.

For this coming Valentine's Day, I have a choice valentine who I've been crushing on for awhile (the mathematician). But our ships have not crossed. Therefore, I will delight in my own journey, making a splash with life, enjoying the possibilities.

Come over if you want to celebrate Valentine's Day like you did in third grade when V Day was a day of friendship, innocence and promise. Everyone felt loved because everyone just loved everyone (by those cute tiny cards with sweet endearments by Strawberry Shortcake or Sponge Bob)

If you've been fortunate to be chosen and feel chosen or have the confidence and good fortune to have found someone to choose then Valentine's Day is just a day with frosting on top of your cake of life.

I'm baking a cake for now.

JNET

The Wheel of Power and Control

Isolation

Intimidation

Male Privilege

Threats

Using Children

Emotional, Economic, Sexual Abuse

He had the eyes of a teddy bear and the heart of vadar.

I was busy as usual in my whirlwind of life, enjoying independence at college. He showed up to be my protector when a conflict came up at school. The world was too dangerous for me and he wanted to be my only safe place.... . ISOLATION

I wasn't used to being afraid or feeling insecure. I wanted to rebel against these new phantoms and tear them out like weeds in a garden. He gave me "space" and then told me that I was afraid of love saying that it was my own rebellious spirit that was causing problems... that I was a destroyer of love and a fearful creature in the safest place in the world. INTIMIDATION

I needed to "learn to trust" he said. Wasn't I willing to grow as partners? He asked that I trust him with handling our financial affairs and I wanted to be able to trust him. MALE PRIVILEGE

Life was challenging. Mistakes were made and details fell through the cracks. Things weren't set up for success and he didn't have the patience to talk things over. Gone was the patience he had in declaring himself as my safe space. Life was too overwhelming for a conversation. He was angry and tired. The slow driver, the barking dog, the noisy neighbor angered him. The last thing he needed was my complaints and concerns to rock the boat. I woke up one evening thinking I was dreaming... He was on top of me, squeezing my arms til his fingers left marks, demanding at a whisper that I had better fall in line or watch out. THREATS

"When we have children, I will make sure that your mother and family never sees them." USING THE CHILDREN

He told me what my thoughts were because he disagreed with them. He used to make me feel beautiful but as life began to be more frustrating to him, everything was ugly til eventually, even I was ugly. He told my mother that I was acting crazy and telling stories. Our finances weren't being handled. I began saving my own money. EMOTIONAL, ECONOMIC, SEXUAL ABUSE

"I never taught my daughter to lie." she told him. It was good to know I still had a safe place... my original safe place was still mine.

Once a best friend who said he would go to the ends of the earth to win me. Flowers every Friday. I was doted on lavishly that if anyone told me that the future would be a nightmare, I wouldn't believe it.

This power and control wheel states the different behaviors that those who abuse power and control take... What I wanted to share was the tiny spiral where the appetite was first fed. ISOLATION didn't feel like isolation while we created our own little world.... all the shadows were a much lighter shade before they became frightening.

I grew up in sunshine and therefore had no skills negotiating with shadows. I could not save my love from the darkness after it took over his heart and his eyes no longer shined for me. If I stayed I might have lost my heart as well. I was dying too. I had lost my words for living and I sat with silence, very sad and shocked. How can my dreams be possible if I no longer had a voice and my mind was numb?

And so I walked away. I did not wonder and hope til I lost hope in myself. I left when I knew I was the only thing I had left to save. I didn't care about money, security or love.

It is you that must always save yourself. Your mother, your friends, your co-workers can hope the best for you. But it is YOU that has to save yourself.

JNET

I Am The Message in the Bottle

I've caught glimpses of my dreams between the bobs and waves. I'm the message in the bottle. I've thrown myself to trust the unknown - to take the uncommon journey. I'm the message in the bottle.

Sustained and protected, cast unto the sea of my intention for something extrodinary. I am the message in the bottle.

JNET

"If I were to wish for anything,
I should not wish for wealth and power,
but for the passionate sense of potential --
for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible.
Pleasure disappoints; possibility never."

Soren Kierkegaard