e•phem•er•a 1. something that is transitory and without lasting significance  2. a range of collectable items that were originally designated to be short-lived

I have a secret, long-time love affair with ephemera.

If you traveled back in time with me and rummaged through one of the bedroom closets from my childhood, we would find shoe boxes (neatly stacked, of course) filled with cast-offs and found objects.

Plastic flower pieces. (Yes, I grew up in the plastic flower era.) Broken bits of jewelry. Belt buckles. Assorted rocks and seashells. Coins from mysterious foreign lands. (Okay, Canadian coins from across the river.) Bits of lace and embroidery thread. Odd buttons. Aluminum foil scraps and colored tissue paper. And a clothespin or two.

If we fast-forward to one of my bedroom closets, say around the age of sixteen, we would find bigger boxes with cast off clothing.

Grandma Doll’s crocheted aprons. (Waiting to be converted to vests and halter-tops.) Mom’s 50’s pearl-buttoned sweaters and jackets. (Waiting to be worn with my favorite hip-hugger bell bottom jeans – the pair with the chessboard appliqué on the butt stitched by yours truly.) Grandma Smith’s Greta Garbo-esque satin wedding dress. (Too precious to cut up but a definite inspiration.) An older  cousin’s 40’s taffeta and organdy party dress. Gloves in assorted shades of white to ivory. A black Cossack-style coat. And a velvet hand-beaded by somebody in the family purse.

If we fast-forward just a little more, we’d find a freshly married Bernadette merging with life in the fast lane – a life that left her no time for the magical meanderings ephemera encouraged.

•  •  •  •  •

“The creation story portrays the love of a creative God lifting beauty and order out of the chaos.” – Sr. Macrina Weiderkehr O.S.B.

Now, lets visit one more Bernadette. The one who, when swept to the curb, scrambled to salvage bits of her broken dreams before they washed into the storm drain as her life and marriage shattered into the unrecognizable rubble that some might consider ephemera.

What a beautiful mess – to accept the invitation to see my life as ephemera through the eyes and spirit of the little girl who gathered treasures and placed them in shoe boxes to be re-purposed at a later time. She didn’t worry about deadlines (or speed limits) or what someone else thought about her little fascinations. She kept and categorized them so she could find them when their purpose was revealed.

So, Mr. Webster’s New World Dictionary, here’s two things I know about ephemera that you didn’t touch:

• That which the world casts off as something transitory and without lasting significance the artist picks up to give significance.

• Sometimes that which we cast off as transitory and without lasting significance God picks back up to give US lasting significance.

So, today, I’m full-circle it seems. When Ray left, I was a struggling artist trying to find my way back to that magical place of possibility and expression. When he returned, we found a re-purposed marriage and I, a new path working with people in their homes. Now, 16 years after my scramble at the curb, I find myself with shoe boxes (they’re clear plastic now) filled with ephemera as I embark into the world of mixed media and altered book art.

The difference today? My shoe boxes are out of the closet and I share my ephemera (inside and out) in this messy room and in Bernadette’s Pages.

So, of course I have to ask, any other ephemera enthusiasts out there? Where are you with ephemera in YOUR life and what are you doing with it?

Or, perhaps you would like to share as an artist-writer-musician-creative. What do you do with your bits and pieces?

If you like this, you might also enjoy: Awareness: Shoe Boxes & Found Objects

If you entered through the art gallery: Click here to go back.

And if you like our Messy Room, LIKE this and share it with a friend!

Do you get lost in a blur of expectations? Life does not stop for the Kodak moments of the past to catch up with the present.

One of the stressful aspects of holidays is when traditions collide with life circumstances. Add to that the expectations exalted by the media for a ho-ho-holiday and you have the recipe for stress and the ho-hum-holiday blues.

If your life looks anything like mine, you find the picture shifts – not so predictably – from one year to the next. All sorts of transitions can occur in a year’s time. Re-locations. Job changes. Children leaving home. Children moving back in. (Yipes!) Aging parents. You name it. Life does not stop for the Kodak moments of the past to catch up with the present.

With all that in mind, I want to share a little secret that has maneuvered me through many holidays with low to no stress.

Ritual-making. The kind of ritual-making that supports tradition but does not need tradition for its power. Add a dash of creativity to the mix and you will uncover alternatives that answer to who you are and where you are.

What do I mean?

A creative ritual is chosen and executed with mindful intention. And a creative ritual allows you to be the greater part of the equation, empowering your life and relationships in the best of ways.

Need an example?

Here’s a personal favorite: In particularly hectic years, Ray and I don’t exchange Christmas gifts with each other. We go on a special artist’s date instead. After the seasonal dust settles, we plot our course based on what spikes our creative juices in that year. We start with a brunch, browse and meander from destination point to point gathering our treasures, and usually round out the date with music, art, books and a stout cup of French Roast somewhere. Our day is complete with breakfast at IHOP in the wee hours of the morning. This ritual focuses us and sets the tone for how we wish to see ourselves in the coming year.

Have some great rituals that empower you and keep down the stress? Share them!

Forgive it Forward: Follow Those Footprints

Sometimes it helps to follow in someone’s footsteps – even if only for a short while. For that reason, Ray and I have started this series; a virtual footprint forum for muses with stories, ideas and tips that we think worth sharing. We hope your ‘walk’ with them makes your day a little lighter and brighter –and that you leave with something that inspires you to forgive it forward, backward, upward and downward!

This story is being shared under the category of forgiveness as a reminder. In the flurry of day-to-day living, it is moments like these, shared between a young boy and his mother, that capture the heart and are worthy of our capacity for memory – not the ones that disappoint. And when someone we love loses their ability to remember, these are the ones that we hold for them as well as ourselves. Which is why we found “A Fortune in Dough” by Ray Harwell priceless. So, sit back and pour yourself a cup of coffee, or tea if you prefer, and travel back in time with us as we share a precious memory in the making.

GUEST MUSINGS BY: Ray Harwell, Agricultural Research Assistant

 “Tell me the story, Momma.” It had been a while since the last time I had asked and I knew that if I asked too often she would say no. She acted as though she hadn’t heard a word I had said. I stood behind her, over near the fireplace, watching as she prepared her work on the breakfast meal. I stuck a thumb in my mouth and contemplated whether or not she had, in fact, heard me. This was somewhat dangerous ground. One false move here and there would be no story this morning. Why, it may even be days if I pushed too hard. In a flurry of action she had turned on the stove eyes and the oven, gotten stuff out of the fridgedair and had made several trips to and from the sink. I had to act soon. Making my way around the table (it was an extremely large table where all members of the family had a designated seat) I saddled up close to her right side. She looked down at me and in those big beautiful brown eyes I could actually see the love pour out and down on me.

“Oh, not this morning!” she said turning once again to her work. “Your daddy will be in from the barn soon and I need to have things ready.” It was time for a bold move. Removing the thumb from my mouth and wiping it on my shirt, I started tugging on one of the many straight-backed chairs that surrounded that grandest of all tables. I pulled and pushed and pushed and pulled until I had it right up against the cabinet to Momma’s right.  A quick glance assured me this had not caused her to stray from her task. The chair was in place with its back pushed tight against the cabinet and after a brief struggle I found myself in the most perfect place in the whole wide world.

Momma was still acting as if I was nowhere around and this was good. She pulled open the cabinet door that was directly in front of her and below. From there she retrieved the dough board and sifter. In one action she loaded the sifter with the right number of handfuls of flour (White Lily if you please) and placed it on the cabinet in front of her. I was amazed at how fast she could sift that flour and never let it spill over the sides but land perfectly in the dough board making a mound. Once again she stooped into the lower cabinet and came back up with just the right amount of pure hog lard in her right hand. Those hands of hers were a great mystery to me. With those same hands she had rendered the lard that she now rubbed onto flat pans and mixed into the flour. Those hands, that wiped with all tenderness the tears from my eyes, had picked cotton and hoed rows and rows. The little finger on her right hand was bent at the second joint and was stiff. I had asked her many times why that was but she would only say she hurt it as a child. I still can not rightly say. Even with that stiff pinky she worked that lard into the flour until it was exactly like she wanted it. She made a valley in the middle and poured in the fresh milk a little at a time with her left hand while mixing steady with her right.

My thumb had once again found my mouth and I leaned in close to her, my head against her hip. Even now when I think of this moment in my life, repeated so often before so many meals, I can still feel her warmth beneath a faded dress. Her smell fills my senses and I find, if only for an instant, that feeling of greatest love and security that can only be that of mother and son, the way it was intended to be.

The moment of truth had arrived. If Momma were going to tell me the story it would be now. She had kneaded the dough until it suited her and with a pat she pinched off the first biscuit.

“This is Ray on the day he was born.” she said as she rolled the tiny bit of dough in her hands and, patting it flat, laid it onto the greased pan.  “It was one of the hottest days in July.”  The story had begun.

Pinching off a slightly larger piece and rolling and patting it flat she said, “And this is Ray when he turned one year old.” She placed it in the pan next to the first one and I could see that I had grown in size. “This is Ray when he will start first grade and he will learn how to read and write.” Momma said, as she placed this even larger biscuit next in line. “You’ll have lots of fun there and you will be so smart!” she would say. “Who will my teacher be?” I would ask. “Will I like her?” “Maybe you will have Miss Thornton or you might have Miss Fleming.” she would reply. As she answered my questions she was preparing the next biscuit. In like manner, she took me through grammar school and into high school. I noticed the biscuits were now much the same size as her regular ones and she told me that I would continue to grow but not as fast and I wouldn’t notice it as much. Sometimes she would tell me of girlfriends I would have, of learning to drive and working on the dairy with Dad. She would usually take me through high school graduation and tell me how proud she was of me for getting through school. Then she would add a slightly smaller pinch of dough and place it on the pan really close to the last in line. “And this is the lucky girl that Ray will marry and he will love her very much and she will love him too!” she would say.  “What’s her name?” I would ask.  “That’s for YOU to find out!  You’ll know her when you see her.” was all she would ever say.

On a daily basis Momma made many pan-fulls of biscuits. Usually two, sometimes three, every meal for a long time. I only asked for the story at breakfast and have often wondered why. It may be that after the sun was up there were too many other things to hold my attention. It may well have been because that was the routine and like the cows, from which we gained our living, I was merely a creature of habit. For me, however, it was because that was MY time with Momma. My sister was still asleep; Dad and what brothers were still at home were at the barn milking. There was only the two of us in that small country kitchen as Momma told my fortune in dough and with it gave me insight into phases of life and love and even the heartbreak that would forever be part of me and of us all.

Many years have come and gone and in their goings have taken away many of the memories created so long ago.

 Several years ago, as Momma was struggling so valiantly against one of the worst diseases of this world, Alzheimer’s, I was watching her make biscuits. She was eighty-two, I was forty-six. She could still do pretty well. I eased up against her and said, “Tell me the story, Momma.” She stopped immediately with her preparation and after a brief moment she looked up at me with those same clear brown eyes of so long ago and smiled at me with a smile that could only have been sent from God. I swear that it warmed me like the sun breaking from behind the clouds on a cool day.  She did not attempt to tell me the story nor was I expecting her to. The moment was just that – a moment.

But in that fleeting moment we connected again on that level that was the love of mother and son, the way it was intended to be. Time nor disease will ever take away nor change this memory of mine. I will not let it.

My wife and sons and daughter (by the way, all foretold in long ago dough) have heard this story. My sister, Faye, has heard this story.  And now you can hear it, too. And with each telling or reading or remembrance time is rendered impotent in its abilities to steal.

I miss her. I miss her a lot. Writing this has been difficult for me but necessary. Not to share this great gift – so freely given to me by my mother so long ago that started me on my life’s journey and provided the ground for a connection years later – would be the most selfish of action.

So, that is the story. As I sit here in front of the computer screen and read it over with wet red eyes and tears on cheek, I think of how much I loved her – how I love her still.

Ray is a retired Agricultural Research Assistant with the University of Georgia.  He lives in Madison with his wife of 36 years. Their three children are grown and gone with five children of their own.  He is now occupied with the care of an old friend, 93 years young, and making wind chimes from glass and recycled materials. He is also finding the path from which he strayed in days gone by and is learning to reframe, forgive forward and reconnect with that inner artist abandoned so long ago.

Did you miss the Forgive it Forward video? Click here to see the 3-minute video!

Curious how it ALL started?  CLICK HERE to see the 2-minute video book trailer that started it all!

©2010 Enlightened Ink – If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share us with it. If this is a guest post, permission will be needed from the writer as well. Together we grow.  

Did this make your day a little brighter? (Then “LIKE” this or SHARE this!) And feel free to comment or share a story of your own!

Photo – Courtesy of Casa Dresden

When I posted this article back in 2008, little did I know where THAT little forgiveness project would lead. The concept of Forgive it Forward could not have been further from my mind! I am re-posting this to share how important it is to pay attention to those little nudges we get along the path … including those to forgive. You never know where they will lead or, in this case, WHEN they will take seed and lead.

This Year, International Forgiveness Day is August 8, 2010

This original article was posted: August 1, 2008

Sunday, August 3, 2008 is International Forgiveness Day. An article by Michael E. McCullough, entitled Vengeance 101 in the July/August issue of Spirituality & Health lists projects that can be implemented in the spirit of encouraging the world to be a more forgiving place. Those of you who know Ray and me know this is a big topic for us. Neither of us would be here today were it not for our willingness to forgive and our willingness to accept forgiveness.

So, we cannot let this day go by without support. We are picking Project #4 on the list – with our own twist, of course. It states, “Promote a climate of apology and compensation in your family, neighborhood, congregation, or place of work.” We wish to promote a climate for consideration, contemplation, and conversation – if you care to join in – as to where our lives would be without the willingness to forgive and accept forgiveness.

When we say forgiveness, we are not talking about the “pardoning” kind. (The kind that says, “You’ve done me wrong. You’ve hurt me bad. You’ve altered me. I will suffer with this pain forever but I will forgive you.”) Yes, pardoning is a starting point. But pardoning, at best, offers a compromised peace. A peace that teeters atop past offenses, stashed yet never forgotten. Throw a few more offenses on top of the pile and this version of forgiveness crumbles rapidly. Pardoning would never have gotten Ray and I around the block after our reconciliation.

When we say forgiveness, we are talking about the kind that erases the “offense” forever; the kind that shifts our perception, converts the offense to a classroom, the offender to a teacher, the experience to an opportunity for growth. A growth that allows us to say, ” I forgive you.” with the subtext being, “I see this differently. I was mistaken when I thought you harmed me. Look at what I have learned. Look who I have grown to be. Look who I have uncovered. I’m okay. There is nothing to forgive here.” This kind of forgiveness does not crumble.

Yeah. Yeah. Easier said than done. You’re right. But it is doable. It took Ray and I eighteen years, nine months, and a betrayal to give birth to that kind of forgiveness between us. (It’s all in B’s Pages.) We signed up for the class, became teacher to each other, and grew up in spite of ourselves. We wouldn’t change a thing in the way it happened. We needed every bit of that classroom to receive – and share – our gift. (Including the additional fourteen-plus years of practice that have come afterward.)

So, in the spirit of encouraging the world to be a more forgiving place, Ray and I invite you to consider where you are with (or without) forgiveness in your own backyard.

• If you find yourself looking back on a moment where you truly forgave and are reaping its benefits today, extend gratitude. (And share it. The world needs gratitude, too!)

• If you are struggling to find the willingness to forgive, what purpose is your pain serving? (There’s a hidden “payoff” somewhere. Find the payoff and you’ve taken your first step to freedom.)

• Imagine for a moment, waking tomorrow morning with no memory of past hurts, slights, or failures. Do you feel relief? Or anxiety and fear?

Forgiveness is not just an ideal to strive for. It is a tool that radically changes lives – always for the better. Ask anyone who has given it. Ask anyone who has received it.

We are not limiting our forgiveness project to August 3. We welcome your comments and any experiences you would like to share on the topic. Every thought for forgiveness is a prayer for a more forgiving world.

“Let us start our process of reawakening with just a few simple concepts: Thoughts increase by being given away. – The more who believe in them the stronger they become.”

Did you miss the Forgive it Forward video? CLICK HERE to see the 3-minute video!

Curious how it ALL started? CLICK HERE to see the 2-minute video book trailer

©2010 Enlightened Ink – If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share The Messy Room with it. Together we grow.

Did this make your day a little brighter? (Then “LIKE” this or SHARE this!) And feel free to add to the conversation below!

Irene Rose.
Seen through the eyes of a seven-color palette.
Alizarin crimson and
ultramarine blue compete for starring roles
while bristle brushes encounter the terrain of a prepared canvas.
Piercing blue eyes of subject and artist
mother and son
struggle to make peace with 96 years
while filberts #4 and #6 solicit to capture a wordless truth.
Each application of paint renders layers of
Guilt. Innocence.
Disappointment. Hope.
Expectation. Acceptance.
Until the last piece of paint pronounces
Forgiveness
and
Irene Rose.
Seen.

“My preference, in doing portraits, is about the relationship I develop with the subject I paint. When I ask myself the RIGHT questions, they give me the answer. Uncovering that abstract story … emotion … beauty … THAT is the joy of creativity.” – Ray

When Ray told me that he wanted to try his hand at portraiture in oils, I was curious.

When he told me his mother would be his first subject, I was surprised. When he said he needed to start and complete the portrait before the summer was through – well, he had my full attention. (Oddly, she fell and broke her hip about a month after the piece was completed.)

A portrait can capture a likeness or an essence.

What Ray captured in ‘Irene Rose’ is an essence not often seen in our day-to-day life with Irene – and that is what I love about this piece. He was able to rise above all the negative conditioning that often presents itself in this relationship with his 96-year-old mother to see and paint the woman without the fears that have driven her to drive others. (Anyone in a challenged relationship with a parent knows what I’m saying here.)

That an artist can accomplish this feat in portraiture is maybe not so amazing. But when that artist is the son of the subject and the painting is a first attempt, it is. (Just my opinion.) And it makes me want to stick around and see what else he captures as he continues to explore his fascination for painting people in the chiaroscuro style of the masters.

So, when Ray told me his next portrait is to be a self-portrait, I smiled. THAT subject might be even tougher than the last!

Entered through the Art Gallery? Click here to go back.

To see another “Ray step-by-step” post click: Art in the Making: A Confession

To see what other creatives have to say about their process click: Muses Among Us

©2010 Enlightened Ink – If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share The Messy Room with it. Together we grow.

“When most people think of forgiveness they look to the past. Past events. Past people. Past gripes. Forgiving the PAST is a lot of work. Tedious work. Painful work. So, it’s easy to see why we tend to push it to the back of the closet to be sorted and dealt with another time.”

When I think about issues of forgiveness, I think about clutter clearing and closet counseling sessions with clients. For those of you who don’t know, closet counseling is what happens after we unearth a challenge from a closet, attic, garage or basement. A deer-frozen-in-the-headlights gaze generally announces this challenge, at which point clutter clearing shifts to counseling with  “tell me about this” followed by  “how is this serving you?” and ending with  “are you ready to release or reactivate this?”

We can pack a lot into the darkened recesses of closets – and memories. Stuff attached to hopes, dreams, disappointments, frustrations, judgments, resentments, guilt, fear … That entails a lot of work and why many people cannot do it alone. It’s overwhelming.

So, I’m stepping out of the closet now. Lets talk about forgiveness.

What if we gave forgiveness a break from being the clean-up crew? If we let forgiveness scout the future for a change to trouble-shoot and clear our path – and avoided the pile-up? Sounds radical, but what if we could forgive it forward?

What would that look like, if we agreed to forgive the next someone or something that gets under our skin – right now – BEFORE it happens? The very next thing?

Just PLAY with this idea.

It’s okay if you need to qualify it with the very next SMALL thing. Just try it and see how you feel when you get “there,” to that moment you already forgave. Maybe a rude store clerk or waitress will be the recipient when the thought “I forgave you forward” hits. Maybe they’ll wonder why you’re smiling. Maybe you’ll make their day and yours – in ways that you cannot even imagine now.

It’s no secret that Ray and I are where we are today because we forgave. And, if you’ve read Bernadette’s Pages, you know about all the forgiveness work that he and I had to do to get here. What you may not know is that we also had to forgive it forward!

Did you miss the Forgive it Forward video? Click here to see the 3-minute video!

Curious how it ALL started? CLICK HERE to see the 2-minute video book trailer!

©2010 Enlightened Ink – If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share us with it. Together we grow.

• Then & Now Project: The journey from “I do” to “I don’t” to “What now” is complicated. This project shares snippets from my book (taken from my journal) that reveal pieces of that journey in a “that was then, this is now” format. My posting days match with journal entry days (sort of a time-fusion) and focus on what I hope will offer food for thought in your own life – whether you do, don’t, or might. Enjoy!

Now that I’ve officially fallen flat on my blogging b!?#@! I will confess to what I can only identify as spring fever rebellion. (So much for the idea of matching posting days with journal entry days.)

How to proceed from here? I could “catch up” by fudging the posting dates. If you just got here you’d never know. Then I could shrug my absence off to a mysterious Internet snafu for those of you who get this on feed. Or – I could just offer short snippets to get us current and ask for your forgiveness.

Hmmm. Guess which one? (You get to practice forgiveness!) In the interest of saving time, I am not posting any 2010 comments. Instead, I have selected a progression of short journal entries and spirit dialogs that will hopefully tell the story and share the “classroom” in a self-explanatory way. If you have questions, just ask.

HERE WE GO!

Journal, April 8, 1994 • “… When these racing hormones kick in, the idea of finding comfort or distraction in another man is tempting. But then I think, I have never taken this kind of time just for me and I like what I’m discovering. Am I not worth my own attention? Why get lost in a quick fix?”

Spirit Dialog, April 9, 1994 • “The real work is not in the struggle, but in the careful observation of and accepted responsibility for your creations … It is not a spell you cast, nor magic. It is like what you call intervention. Divine intervention is, in part, your own, as you are of the Divine. You choose to be aware of this now in the work that you do and so, in a way, are setting the pace as [Ray] must keep up with your growth …”

Journal, April 9, 1994 • “It’s time to get back to that young gal who used to dig through trunks to find vintage clothes she could wear to high school! The one who wore her grandmother’s costume jewelry and her mother’s ‘50s jackets and blouses! The one who wore black nail polish that smelled like cherry and pale pink lipstick as eye shadow because the cosmetic companies had not yet invented it!”

Journal, April 10, 1994 • “What is best for me? … there’s a difference between my way, based in fear and control, and me first, based in love and concern … So much of what I do is still within the context of the relationship. What I believe I need to do, to “keep the door open” and not jeopardize the relationship further … Is it really in my best interest to continue to hope for Ray’s return, and thus keep the ground fertile and tilled for that possibility? Is it in my best interest to be keeper of the field when my other half is out “fertilizing” another field?”

Spirit Dialog, April 11, 1994 • “… good practice for you, as you are correct in that you still put the relationship first. This is not bad, as the whole is important. However, this is part of your dynamics because its base is upon a feeling of unworthiness to come before the relationship, rather than love for the whole … You have feared to love yourself, as you have set yourself up to earn your own love by doing and giving … This is why you have difficulty being.”

“You must then consider what best suits your temperament and do so with an attitude of “being” you and not “doing” Ray … Watch what you give power to or you will fall in line with Ray’s abstractions and prolong this period… This is why your motives must be clear in taking care of yourself. You do deserve better treatment, but from yourself. A self that is not focusing on him!”

Photo – Courtesy of Casa Dresden

Spirit Dialog, April 12, 1994 • “Your fear is that this is a calculated risk, which is why you must do your part. Not just for you, but for [Ray]. He is counting on you to remember your part … his fear [is] that he might get lost in this … Trust this! You prayed together. You did this together … Ray must remain blinded to accelerate the correction so you will secure the understanding you need … There has to be a degree of doubt to make you do the work. But there has to be a degree of “knowing” while it is occurring, as the knowing is part of your opening up. This is a lucid dream. What you do for yourself, you will do for Ray.”

Journal, April 13, 1994 • “It appears that both my negative and positive [core beliefs] are being challenged by this separation. I say I believe in love. In love’s ultimate goodness. If I really believe that, why am I so afraid now that Ray has left? When he was with me, I believed that love, our love, could overcome anything. But now I see his love as withdrawn and limited. Maybe if I could still see love in him, I wouldn’t be so fearful … God, I am placing all love outside myself! No wonder I’m afraid. Can I forgive myself for seeing love as fickle and unattainable? For identifying love only with a body?”

Spirit Dialog, April 15, 1994 • “When you seek truth, why do you think you will find only lies? … You can get lost in the signs and not do the work. You have been told. Believe that it is true … There is still much in your past to heal …”

Journal, April 16, 1994 • “Mom should be here soon. I’m so glad she’s coming up. How odd. Just a few months back, I thought Ray and I would be in Florida this very weekend, celebrating Mom and Dad’s fortieth anniversary … I know this is hard for her. She loves Ray and won’t condemn him. And I don’t want her to … Damn this is tough.”

Journal, April 18, 1994 • “Mom is helping me anchor in my little house …  She found fabric that matched some throw pillows I’d bought with Lea a few weeks ago and made valances for the living room windows while I was at work today … but they didn’t turn out the way she wanted. When I got home she seemed frustrated and upset. I could tell that she had been crying but was trying to hide it. The look on her face shot straight to my heart. I knew it wasn’t about the valances not turning out. It was the whole thing – my life, my marriage – and her wanting to make it all better, all right for me … How odd to be in such pain and feel so much gratitude at the same time. I look around and see Mom encouraging me to come out in my home …”

Photo courtesy of Linda Pavlick

Journal, April 22, 1994 • “Ray, Shelly is not the betrayal. Not now. Not even six years ago. The betrayal is that you saw me slipping away, and all you could do was stand in judgment and deem me hopeless. How is it you stopped believing in me? You were burying me alive with every mental thought of leaving … You saw me in my weakest, most fearful moments … I trusted you not to abuse me with that. I do not have one friend today who would judge me as hopeless and see leaving me as the solution … This is where I feel betrayed. You withheld love, when love could have healed.”

• Post Number Twenty-One: This is an a la carte post. But everything on the menu is about love. Every one of these excerpts suggests a thought to nurture your spirit. Loving self. Loving others. Loving unions. Me. You. Us. Betrayal comes whenever we withhold love so consider this: Where have you “withheld love, when love could have healed.” When you looked at yourself in the mirror? When you looked across the table at another? When you looked out at the world?

• A Funny Thought: I abandoned the Bernadette of 1994 the past few weeks but am grateful she did her work and did not abandon me. Because she did what she did, I can do what I do.

• About This Post: I’m attempting to merge the nine months recorded in Bernadette’s Pages with the present here – but still can’t figure out how to format it in a neat and tidy way. So, it’s probably going to be raw and choppy in places. I’ll throw in some quotes and bullets to guide you along. If I lose you somewhere, let me know. I’ll come back to get you.

• If you landed in the middle of this project: Click here to start at the beginning!

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

Excerpts ©2006 from Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad

Photo Courtesy of Karla Zdroik

• Then & Now Project: The journey from “I do” to “I don’t” to “What now” is complicated. This project shares snippets from my book (taken from my journal) that reveal pieces of that journey in a “that was then, this is now” format. My posting days match with journal entry days (sort of a time-fusion) and focus on what I hope will offer food for thought in your own life – whether you do, don’t, or might. Enjoy!

CREATING A NEW REALITY WITHOUT GETTING OFF YOUR COUCH.

If memory is all you have of the past, and what you base your present choices on, why not give yourself a different “memory” to choose from?

Journal, April 5, 1994 • “It’s time to wake up and be conscious of what I’ve been doing. It’s time to change the script. To look in my own mirror. This separation was probably the only thing that would have caught and held my attention so I would stop and look at this victim mentality I support … “

2010:  Starting with a spirit dialog and ending with a vision, there are six entries in my book for April 5th and that presents me with a dilemma. How do I maintain a storyline and support growth without wearing you out?  Because March was such a big month (52 journal entries) there was a lot that I didn’t include in my March posts, some of which I now realize laid the foundation for today’s insights about how we create our reality. (I told you this “out of context” stuff could get messy.)

Today, I’m ditching my concerns about the storyline progression and inviting you to leap with me into some pretty heady stuff about how we use – and abuse – our relationship with time to create our life experiences. (If you are wondering how I got from there to here in just a month, buy the book. And no, that is not a thinly veiled marketing attempt. Just saving a few steps.)

Journal, April 5, 1994 • “… I trapped myself in a ‘present’ past [with Ray]. God, it is so clear! I gave my power to the past. In doing that, I recreated the past I wanted to avoid. What a loop! … How different that present moment [with Ray] might have been, and how different this present moment might be, had I made another choice. It still can be, because now I am rewriting that past into a better present.

Every memory that causes me pain can be re-scripted in my visualizations by asking one simple question. “How would that have played out if I had chosen love?”

2010:  Hit the pause button on your remote and reread that last line. (Hey, I said you could do this from your couch didn’t I?) When it comes to the stuff that makes any relationship miserable – expectations, disappointments, resentments, frustrations, compulsions, addictions, anger, betrayal – what does it mean to choose LOVE?  The real deal, not some victimized, codependent version. Pull up a memory and play with that idea for just a moment.

Journal, April 5, 1994 • “If I can accept that my power is in the present, I can rewrite these events in meditation as if they are now, and know the correction is made.

If memory is all I have of the past, and what I base my present choices on, why not give myself a different “memory” to choose from?”

2010:  I know. It sounds like the Bernadette of 1994 is getting a little delusional here but just stay with me on this. You will start to see that she is in the process of discovering a valuable tool to freedom.

Journal, April 5, 1994 • “With all I’ve read about how to use visualization and affirmation, how to focus on the future I want, how to imagine it as now and extend gratitude as if it has already happened, it never occurred to me that I might be creating this future out of a past based in fear. I struggle in my efforts to create the future experiences I desire when I place so much more credence on my experiences in the past. When I am looking to the future, how can I trust that I am not really trying to prove a selective past?

I know that my memory of the past is not always accurate, making it no more “real’ than a future I have yet to live! So, if I recreate a past memory that allows me to forgive, to let go of guilt, to feel differently about myself, have I not improved my present choices – and so my future? How much more effective to bring future and past to the present in my visualizations. It’s all happening right here, in this moment.

Rewrite the past to experience a more joyful present. Without the expression of fear based in memory, the future can better take care of itself because it will evolve from a series of inspired present moments.”

2010:  Okay. Grab that remote again and hit pause. Ever found yourself in a miserable state – maybe after an argument – proclaiming that there HAS to be a better way? That you’ve had enough? Where’d you go after that? In your head, I mean. Were you, by chance, visualizing your new and improved future while rummaging around in the pieces of the past that didn’t work?

If I don’t write another post for the rest of April and YOU GET JUST THIS …

Our point of power is always in the present.

… I’ll be happy!

Crazy as it seems, this form of visualization that I engaged in changed everything. It showed me how my fears masqueraded as love and how to invite a very present, very real love into my experience – from any vantage point of time. In giving myself permission to be “delusional” and accept my rewrites as the true memories, a door opened and I found freedom on the other side.

So, I’m going to challenge you – just a little – to go back to a moderately painful memory and try it. And when you finish your visualization, proclaim that “It is done” and let God’s messengers take care of the rest.

• Post Number Twenty: Eckhart Tolle wrote a whole book on the power of now. Abraham-Hicks have written volumes on the law of attraction. They weren’t around in 1994 but other teachers were. For me, the missing link was in my relationship with my memories and how I used them to support my fear of lack, limitation, unworthiness, betrayal – you name it. (I’m sure you can come up with a list of your own.) As far as I’m concerned, a rewrite through the eyes of love beats out a recitation through the eyes of fear any day.

• A Funny Thought: If I could go back to 1994, right now? I would say, “April 5 was a heck of a day, kiddo. You forced me into writing two blog posts. But keep up the good work.”

• About This Post: I’m attempting to merge the nine months recorded in Bernadette’s Pages with the present here – but still can’t figure out how to format it in a neat and tidy way. So, it’s probably going to be raw and choppy in places. I’ll throw in some quotes and bullets to guide you along. If I lose you somewhere, let me know. I’ll come back to get you.

• If you landed in the middle of this project: Click here to start at the beginning!

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

Excerpts ©2006 from Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad

Photo – Courtesy of Casa Dresden

• Then & Now Project: The journey from “I do” to “I don’t” to “What now” is complicated. This project shares snippets from my book (taken from my journal) that reveal pieces of that journey in a “that was then, this is now” format. My posting days match with journal entry days (sort of a time-fusion) and focus on what I hope will offer food for thought in your own life – whether you do, don’t, or might. Enjoy!

THE STAND-IN

Journal, April 4, 1994 • “The weirdest thing happened today. Lea and I went shopping so I could pick up some things for the house. We wound up at the new home store. We were hungry, so we stopped in their deli … While I was standing at the counter waiting for my food, this gal caught my eye. I felt drawn to her and, for some strange reason, the idea came into my head that she was Shelly. I started discretely checking her out … She was pretty. Trim in an athletic sort of way, with clear, radiant skin. It was quite unnerving. As I sat down to eat with Lea, I confessed my “obsession.” When we got up to leave, this gal did also. She directed a question about the store to me, making conversation. She was very pleasant and sweet. I thought, if this is Shelly, does she know who I am? I hadn’t found any pictures of her when I went through Ray’s stuff, so I was at a disadvantage. Real crazy thinking. I knew it couldn’t be her but the thought stuck with me. Lea started teasing me as we wandered through the store, trying to lighten me up. It did get rather funny because wherever I went, there was this gal. Like a puppy that follows you home.

I think this gal, and the thought that took root, was a face-to-face orchestrated by my angels – an entertaining way to encourage me to see Shelly not as an enemy, but as a friend.”

2010:  The angels were just getting warmed up with this one. Obsessions came easy for me so planting this idea didn’t require much effort on their part. God knows, I’m sure they were tired of my whining pleas for help and decided on a little comic relief while they passed down my lesson for the day. And they couldn’t have had a better “partner in crime” than Lea. Laughter is her middle name!

I got it. (And still believe it today.) Shelly was not the enemy. What was happening in my marriage was between God and me, first. Ray and me, second. Shelly and me – not at all. What a relief not to have to lug around that kind of resentment – and fear of drawing in or stumbling over any other “other woman.”

I chose this snippet because it cannot be emphasized enough. (Whether you believe in angels or not.) When you ask for help …

1. PAY ATTENTION.
2. Don’t Limit the Answer’s Form and …
3. Develop a Sense of Humor!

• Post Number Nineteen: I love the way the angels reframed Shelly for me. If you want to read more about the benefits of reframing while working through a bad situation, check out this link for my Companion Guide to Bernadette’s Pages.

• A Funny Thought: If I could go back to 1994, right now? I would say, “Bernadette, when it comes to your angels, you haven’t seen the half of it. The best is yet to come!”

• About This Post: I’m attempting to merge the nine months recorded in Bernadette’s Pages with the present here – but still can’t figure out how to format it in a neat and tidy way. So, it’s probably going to be raw and choppy in places. I’ll throw in some quotes and bullets to guide you along. If I lose you somewhere, let me know. I’ll come back to get you.

• If you landed in the middle of this project: Click here to start at the beginning!

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

Excerpts ©2006 from Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad

If you like this then “LIKE” it and SHARE it with your friends! Together we grow!

Photo – Courtesy of Casa Dresden

• Then & Now Project: The journey from “I do” to “I don’t” to “What now” is complicated. This project shares snippets from my book (taken from my journal) that reveal pieces of that journey in a “that was then, this is now” format. My posting days match with journal entry days (sort of a time-fusion) and focus on what I hope will offer food for thought in your own life – whether you do, don’t, or might. Enjoy!

DREAM LOGS

Dream, April 1, 1994 • “Eric and I are going out for dinner … he gives me flowers … he presents me with a white silk kimono. There is a hand-painted symbol on the front. Broad yet delicate brush strokes form a red circle, and deep blue strokes run vertically through the circle. Very oriental in character … custom made for me … he kisses me … I don’t resist … he’s trying to give me what he feels I need … I am grateful …”

Dream, April 2, 1994 • “Ray and I are sleeping on a mattress, on the floor in the back bedroom. We start to make love … It surprises me that he would want to do this … I awaken (in the dream) and realize I was dreaming … and see him sleeping in a fetal position … I try to wake him but he is in a deep sleep … Then I really wake up.”

Dream, April 3 • “Ray is moving his stuff out. I find razor blades scattered on our bed … I show them to him …“

2010:  If you asked me to list five things that had an impact on me as a child, dreams would be on that list. Voices. Visions. Nightmares. The line between the waking world and dreaming world was often fuzzy.

I always had vivid dreams. As I grew older I got comfortable with them and gradually learned to welcome their wisdom. Dreams offered another view – another way to look at and process things that were going on in my life. (Take away the psychology and I had a front row seat at the movies every night!)

I don’t think there is a one of us who isn’t a little bit curious about our dreams. Ever notice how your dream time gets more active when you’re going through a challenge or trying to make a decision? Venting dreams. Message dreams. Ever stop to listen and discern?

Well get ready for what that looks like. Where March roared in like a lion with its “real-world” pain, April entered like a lamb and gently opened the door to a world of dreams, angel signs, synchronicities, Spirit dialogs, visions and insights.

• Post Number Eighteen: There were 52 entries in my book for the month of March – more in my original journal! I can see where they were all necessary to clear the way for April, a month with a very different tempo. (Writing under fire pays off!)

• A Funny Thought: If I could go back to 1994, right now? I would say, “Bernadette, it’s a gorgeous day outside and you have me in here at this keyboard? Oh. And hold onto your hat. That dream time line is about to get fuzzy again!

• About This Post: I’m attempting to merge the nine months recorded in Bernadette’s Pages with the present here – but still can’t figure out how to format it in a neat and tidy way. So, it’s probably going to be raw and choppy in places. I’ll throw in some quotes and bullets to guide you along. If I lose you somewhere, let me know. I’ll come back to get you.

• If you landed in the middle of this project: Click here to start at the beginning!

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

Excerpts ©2006 from Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad