There seems no “conducting” about one, to me. It seems to simply unroll in front of me – a memory of an experience, a thought of years past, word of an old friend who represented an era for me. Thoughts that bring me into others which I better understand now.

The items to review (come under review?) seem to crowd up with the mistakes, errors, etc. of just about everything in the known world I could be accused of, with more than a few in the queue.

But now I can be bolder & call forth (call into review?) the goodies – the shy ones in the back, the collage of goodness I keep tossing stuff into. I do good in this world. I see you as a force for Good in this world.

Only know my mind seems fixed on selective memory, but wanders in other vineyards all the time… The memory right on replay, not even having to push a button. Which is a fancy way to say I remember every detail.

Re-member. Putting it all together again. Re-view. Seeing with new eyes.

In the blogstreams I follow, this word appears often, preceded by so many others: abundance consciousness, gratitude consciousness, unity consciousness…I could go on & I’m sure you could add your own words there as well. Yes, these all work for people in their ways.

My vote is on regular old consciousness – the one that the nuns drilled into me as 2×2=4. three branches of functioning government, Alaska not being connected to the contiguous USA.

I went to Walmart yesterday & now will Go There No More. The entire place is third world mercado. I asked ten people about where to find pie shells. I was directed (silently as none spoke English & after deep consultation with cell phones – one clerk handing the unit to me indicating the “search” box) to yogurt, walked to breakfast meats with a flourish, taken to the bakery, to frozen pizza & to the pasta shelves. My single English-speaking helper (#11) said “no place but the ice cream freezer.”

After awhile, even tho it was the end of the day & “my dogs were barkin,'” & I was pushing a cart the size of a VW, it became a kind of Where’s Waldo Quest: how many people does it take to find a pie shell to make quiche? Walmart is now officially not the place to go if you need to ask a question, unless you’re collecting answers for grins & giggles & willing to go walkabout for goods.

I stopped at Publix across the street & got a couple. Come by later for a slice.

Hello my loyal readers, my new readers, my online world… Hello!

I guess I have to get in line to echo “What a year!” with all of you – an echo heard round our worlds. My first blog of 2024 was titled “Decisions”. It ends with the line “Am I there yet?” Well, guess not even yet a whole year later.

What happened to 2024? I “lost” my job in the midst of a great shuffle from semi-organized to the Witch from Miami’s takeover of the church & driving out most of the congregation I started the year with. It may have been Biblical, but only in the sense that she enacted that driving the moneylenders out of the temple part… only they weren’t such.

But I was lucky – I at least got a luncheon with friends & supporters before walking out of my own accord – unlike earlier & later employees, one of whom was threatened with a police escort by the Board President. What lies heavier on a church…financial or spiritual debt?

I got a new car & we tiptoe around town still discovering conversation. I settled more into the apartment where I live. I made many resolutions & kept about 65% of ’em. I burned candles, sage, poems, bridges… I moved heaven & earth only to find the same under the Big Blue Marble as atop it. Where once I approached change eagerly, I now drag my sore feet, tucking in my head like a turtle to survey the lay of the land before venturing forward. I learned there are no safe spaces needed; I am in the hands of Universe all & every. Just need to make sure the shoelaces are tied.

For the last day of this year, I pulled out all my oracles. They pretty much say the same thing. All the arrows point in the same directions: health, self-care-taking, some stargazing, much release, more adventure. I got the words: Confidence, Kindness, Evolving, Radical (rootedness), Generous. I got the angels of abundance, adventure, release, vision, strength. I drew the cards for contemplation, huge change, vision, strength. I drew from the Motherpeace deck: vision, self-solidity, wariness/awareness, contemplation, [again] change. My Southwest Oracle deck rendered tortoise, starry skies, yucca, mullein, tumbleweed, desert moon – all indicators of what is listed just above. Louise Hay advised centering, new life to be whole, release, being part of Everything by just being me.

I can’t decide if the message is repetitive or insistent. Actually, it’s both!

I start as I ended & vice-versa, no?

What did I learn this year? I learned my heart is more resilient than my brain. I learned my liver & spleen can renew & change their emotional charges more easily than my feet which drag when they should dance. I learned living up to my promises is hard only when they’re made to myself. I keep the outer ones way more easily. I learned I am often the last in my own line to learn & to love. There’s no emotion tied to it all – just learning.

I learned all of this in many renditions, each situation earning another notch on the climbing ladder, each rung bringing a loftier view into range. I learned perhaps more than I wanted about teeth, betrayal, sanctions, the effects of change & the need for peaceful acceptance. All’s I can really do is straighten the tablecloth the cards are dealt on.

Outside, the first firecrackers pop in the distance. Night blankets the land. I run the usual questions: did I lock the car (go push the remote til it honks), did I remember to do everything I wanted to do today? Yeh, pretty much I did. I changed the cat litter, brought out the trash & recycle. I vacuumed & washed down my favorite chair. I checked the brand-new phone for messages as I now check my head for the same. I’m out of books to read – the library was closed at 2 when I popped by. All I have left are the books I promised to read at the beginning of 2024 & now, the time to read these.

I wish for you whatever it is you most wish for yourself! It won’t get any better than that.

More later.

Love now.

Carol

So when my friend could not make breakfast, I took myself to The Breakfast Cottage in Venice. I gazed at the awning next door thinking how little one hears of ukuleles & how interesting a word it is, not often used in conversation.

The Breakfast Cottage had no Hawaiian motif, more Bee Gee oldies playing. There’s always something to write about, tho. This tiny journal alone starts in 2015 with a riff on moving to the Delaware beach, wet towels slung over railings, single flipflops on the beach, sandpiper races along the tidal edge. I am ten years older than when I started it.

Time capsules litter my landscape, an upended medicine bottle of life. Years of massage now packed into one. Office work reopened & spilled out, granular fear playing a whack-a-mole with Rescue Remedy & Hyland’s Calm along the way. Invisibility revisited: I hang my cape in an old phone booth & walk on. I lost my taste buds to Covid, my Volt to an attack of acute metrics, my eyes to the 2-fer $89 glasses special, my hair to diminished vanity & so much more. I gained faith, trust, health, friends & a cool new restaurant as of today.

I get my new teeth next Tuesday!

I’ve written a lot of that which delights me. Today I am accosted by sadness, by all the projects undone or not started, by the way my foot hurts from being stepped on in the dance.

Obtaining a job online – it’s like computer dating – the chances of finding tall dark n handsome offset by the stupids: list every job you ever had, dates & times, titles, locations & reasons for leaving. Well, my job history is pretty long. I might could tell you my first job was as a dishwasher was with Fitzgerald’s Drugstore in Wildwood & I left in September 1962 for high school. Best of luck getting a reference.

They want too much information & not enough of the right stuff, like I enjoy working. I am good at it. I get stuff done. I’m good with people. I’m a problem-solver.

Unity is the second job I voluntarily quit in my life & I have worked since getting my “papers” & my social security number at 16. But today I feel as though I will never be worthy to work again. It’s like love, I’ll never be worthy again. Just to show you how twisted I am, work was my choice over love my whole life.

Today is a loss day. I’m walking the dripping woods with a hobgoblin on my shoulder whispering what a loser I turned out to be.

I hear that work is now a “hurricane” since I left. I get cryptic texts about “what is/where is/how do I” on my phone. I see the place upended like the butt end of the Titanic going down in all those old movies. The band members have already slid into the sea. One friend cries as she tells me I need to be there. Except I don’t anymore.

I cannot work with a narcissist extraordinaire who makes accusation her #1 motivator & who insists on privacy while discussing my errors with peeps at lunch. She had a month to possibly rectify the situation, but chose instead to bring in a contractor (at twice my hourly rate) for 25 hours per week. She did this five days before my departure & told me to teach her everything she needed to know. That’s how little the “boss” – a card-carrying Unity Minister – thought of my work.

There’s a little girl inside boo-hooing & snotty-nosed. She’s getting loose. Time to get the plunger & stuff her back. Or time to let her out & heal? My choice.

My self-image has always been tied up with my work ethic. It didn’t matter if I’d forgotten to bleach my moustache if I got the report done on time. Or if I had an unnoticed stain on my blouse if I showed up & answered every question anyone asked me with a solid solution. I chose my work over my daughter, over my husbands & relationships.

I’m worn out with stuffing things back. I have found it comes out in other ways.

This time alone, not working, is to heal. It is time to allow the sadness of “failure” to out itself. Time now to root out fault-finding, to leave things behind, to understand that no one’s future, let alone mine, is assured or geared to success as all the markers have changed. The life I lived is no longer available for review or notation. Only the feelings remain – like all the self-help books say. “How does that make you feel?”

No snack food will help here, no rubbing my eyes, no self-examination which seems to turn up scars when I cannot recall the wounds that left them.

Today I stick my hand out from the pile of rubble. The other one is holding onto that child.