the illusion

I am going to drill down into last weeks topic into the core of what this blog LIFE....and this human existence is really all about...at least in my bubble. Chez moi, cable TV and the news is purposely omitted. It makes it easier to dedicate my linear mind to align with Gratitude and the Universal Heart. Knowing full well, however, the suffering that exists, I'd like to offer a couple observations that may ease you into a different yet enhanced cloud of perception.

I will confess that I have a library of romance movies and books. It has been a life-long quest of mine to marinate in the thought of lofty love songs, flix and cozy 18th century reads. The amount of money that has been spent on attaining this library is quite impressive and doesn't even take into account the outflow to Blockbuster and Netflix. If there was ever a romance junkie I was it. The Western culture has been conditioned from birth to conform to the idea that we can only be happy and complete when we have met our true love. I felt entitled to this experience and it presented itself to me. I have learned however, that romance and love are two separate things.
Very unexpectedly (and very iinconveniently I must also add)16 years ago, my future husband strolled into my place of employment and filled the roll of Prince. He swept me off my romantic feet and we rode into the romantic sunset. Through the 14 years of our marriage though, I think we'd both agree, it hasn't been a total cake walk. It has taken a fair amount of conflict resolution, ego relinquishment, patience and ...love. 

Not the love you think I am going to talk about. Not the undying love you declare at the altar...not the love and devotion that you swear in blood to commit to...but the love you foster for yourself to stay in your own power and truth while negotiating a sense of identity theft.  Invariably, the challenges that you face as a married couple morph and shift. If you decide to have children this process continues even more acutely. What remains constant is the dwindling notion of romantic love. At some point along the way I started fantasizing about little remote cabin hide-aways and how far I can get with one cent in my pocket...the sand had funneled to the bottom of the hourglass ...and then it broke. So, here is my observation...

Romance is illusory. There. I said it.

Granted, if this concept was understood by the masses it would warp the face of commerce. The sale of diamonds and greeting cards would plunge while wedding planners, D.J's, photographers and divorce attorneys would all be filing Wal-Mart applications. A new category of books would have to be coined called "Romance Fiction" or "Romady". Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant and the like would need to hustle a deck of Tarot cards at Venice Beach. You can fill in the blanks. My point is that as much as the concept of romance has entertained and delighted us for centuries it has a very blunt back swing that, if not approached with realism, will have you hanging in the stretcher next to Humpty-Dumpty.

The most crucial element in this warning statement is that you must seek your own divinity without relying on others to provide you with a sense of self-worth and belonging. Do yourself a favor by "tuning in" to the pure resonance of love for loves sake alone. Learn to love the Universal heart to which we are all connected by experiencing your own love and then choosing to share it through your eyes and soul. By recognizing yourself in another you have the power to transform the world.

On a base level we all seek the same thing: to be understood, acknowleged and loved. By turning over the hourglass with an intention to serve through compassion you will find a richer life's texture and meaning.  If you have found yourself installed in the vestiges of a romantic void, shift your thoughts to take a look into the condition with a lens of gratitude. Gratitude (minus the romantic Ego) combined with the perspective of the Universal Heart are the magic ingredients to healing the human condition.

Our only purpose here on Earth is to love.

So, my question for you is:

Who is the most important person to love?

Visit http://www.jeweltreeoflife.com/ for more details on how Holistic Life & Soul coaching can shift your perspective and illuminate your Soul. Email or call Julie today to schedule your sample coaching session. Inquiries@Jeweltreellc.com or call 203.240.4397

tune in

I grew up thinking my dad's name was Dearheart 1. because it was true and 2. this is what my mom called him when I was little...before my sister and I became...well...annoying  demanding. It was when we started taking up too much bandwidth that I stopped hearing that term of endearment. I liked that name. It made me feel that I was living amidst a frequency of love.

If you have ever found yourself subsisting on sweet elation for weeks and gazing starry-eyed at a new boyfriend you know the feeling; That insular sensation that noone but the two of you exist in this plush haze of omnicontentment. From your head to your toes you are one with the Universe and feel comfortable enough to make up pet names for each other like "schmoopie" or "sweet thing" or "baby doll" or "honey" or "dearheart" or as my husband calls me "Mamma Cat". It's a long story but suffice to say I believe it to have originated out of jealousy that I am the "go-to" for all the household pets. Before I reach seven Mississippi there is an animal at my feet or on my lap. Really...you too can become a animal whisperer if you learn the magic inherent in a can opener.

I call him Pappa. I like saying it. It is a name that is never used in anger and serves as a double syllabic vehicle of relief. Pahhhhhh - pahhhhh. Awww. Love that sound. Same thing with the name of my dog, Kola...Ahhhhh. Which by the way, didn't know this at the time the name chose us, but I have been told that Kola means "Friend" in Sioux. Perfect. He is every bit of that.

How often do we tune in to Love?  I mean that loopy insanity where nothing can shake you from your sweet, feathered nest? I believe it is possible to achieve this state by oneself. It requires noone but yourself. In fact it is even better that relying on someone else to provide it because it would be stupid to self-disappoint. Right?

Just like a transistor radio you have the ability to receive your desired frequency. You wish to listen to the weather on one station, talk radio that's further down the line, classical...way up at the neck. You must deliberately scroll the dial on the radio to pick up your station of preference.  Presumably you avoid the fields of static and choose something that you enjoy. Right?

How great is it to hear of people falling in love or watching two people walking hand-in-hand down the aisle at the supermarket reluctant to be out of each others physical range! That total heady intoxication that you have felt in your past can simmer in your soul now! At frequent intervals it draws symbols of love to you by way of heart shaped chips, puffy heart shaped clouds, painted hearts on the bottom of tin cans in the middle of the appalachian trail, centercuts of wood, surprise hugs, necco wafers in your folded clothes, boston baked beans in your overnight bag...love as a random act of kindness. It feels good to love...just to love...just because. The more you embody love, the more love embodies you.

You can love another, yes. You can love an animal, yes. You can love a vista, yes. Have you ever tried to capture the feeling of love for love sake alone? To allow yourself to love yourself better that you have loved another? To allow it to stream through your body by just knowing that this frequency exists? Relax into the possibility and let your mind, body and soul tune in.

So my random question to you is:
What are the conditions that ilicit your highest frequency of love?

Hurricane I Clean

There is nothing like throwing a party...or expecting a hurricane...to get me to clean. As witnessed in this recent bluster it wasn't a question IF we were going to loose power but WHEN. All cylinders where activated into tub cleaning/filling, round the clock laundry, preparing the basement as a hurricane shelter and refrigerator purge/consolidation. Hurricane Irene was my Hurricane I clean.

The day before the storm we experienced "a happening". As my husband was cleaning the gutters and securing all the downspouts, barricading the front door for the purported 115 mph winds I was consolidating and cleaning one of the refrigerators. If this doesn't sound like a big deal to you let me just explain. (For all those who have eaten anything other than Take-Out at my house within the last seven years don't read this next sentence.) In the eight years of our ownership a sponge has never paid it a visit.

I know.

I'm lazy. Not that this task is difficult. Apparently, I need hurricanes for motivation. The job took less than an hour. Seven years of resistance. What's that all about? It was a fridge colonic.

Amidst all the uber-hype of hurricane preparedness we did, in fact, loose power for six days. We were totally prepared. It was nice. The kids even remarked at how much better my cooking was on an open flame while re-living my past life as a Pioneer. Some of the highlights would be Cowgirl coffee strong enough to bolster the faint at heart, warm outdoor solar showers, kids in bed relatively early once the darkness sent them into fits of petrification and, of course, the hypnotic glaze of candlelight. The power was allowed to remain dormant until the laundry baskets breached max capacity. I wasn't going to beat my clothes stream side against no rock. However, it does need to be noted that I am left feeling insanely gypped that the roof didn't blow off the house.

Don't tell my insurance company.

What I have to report for the aftermath of this Hurricane is a set of more resilient children, gratitude for how the community pulled together particularly the weary CL&P technicians who work tirelessly into the night to restore power, appreciation for the conveniences of modern day life, a cleaner than usual house, a roof that still needs to be replaced and... a sparkling refrigerator. The entire experience, with emphasis on the fridge thing, has left me feeling lighter and joyous with an ever so slight twinge of kookie irrelevance.

So, in this spirit I ask you in my Hurricane Haiku:

Hurricane I Clean
What long overdue project
Needs a  colonic?

Dharma

The word Dharma exited my husband's lips today. This is a word that had only heretofore been uttered in conjunction with "& Greg" in our days of Thursday night TV. However, today after lunch in combination with his unprecedented purchase of the eight dollar Sports Illustrated Boston Bruins Stanley Cup edition he proclaimed his Dharma. Jeff has decided that he wants to be the private pilot for the Bruins. Not a far stretch really. Just last week he had the privilege of flying the Mets to Los Angeles.

I told him I didn't think he'd be able to do it. His tears of joy would eclipse his view of the controls...totally unsafe. He smiled. I would love it if he could combine his passions of flying and Bruins hockey.

My Dharma? In as much as my position of SuperMom is concerned I have found peace in making school lunches, never ending laundry, kissing boo-boos, ever ready supply of Band-Aids, clean sweeping toys off of the kitchen counter into the trash, mowing, walking the dog, etc. My pure dharma is in finding the symbolism, the now, the love in everything.

Making dinner still has not made the list.

My morning walks with the dog are nice. It is time to reflect, listen and enjoy the silence. It is 80/20 ratio of joy to guilt. Those sad puppy eyes are too much for me to bear. As I set out on my morning trek I decide what type of walk I desire. Is it going to be the walk up onto the finely manicured, sunny lawns of Crawford lane or the wise canopy of the Appalachian Trail? More often than not I am drawn to tree hugging and stream wading on the trail. I love the peace I find in the forest.

Once in a while I pass a through-hiker going the other direction on their way to Maine as I make my way clockwise on my circuit. Without impeding their progress I offer a smile and a passing inquiry as to how many days they have spent on their journey. They keep walking, return the smile and issue their accomplishment to date. You feel a skip in their stride with the knowledge that they are half way there. There is no turning back. They are All In.

I spotted "All In" (trail name) as I descended Hoyt Road just entering my trail head. The decision to enter and walk with him or alter my course was determined effortlessly. Greetings of a "good morning" fell on his ears before we surprised  him with a wet dog nose. His open smile, eyes and heart revealed the seeker status that is so enchanting on this path of life. You can find it on a subway or the supermarket but not nearly as often. This seems to be a enduring quality of the through-hiker; The Universe is coursing through their veins.

All In and I shared 30 minutes of philosophy, metaphysics and life stories. A six month severance package propelled him into a clearly defined life-opportunity to hike the AT. Carefully segmented days will deliver him in Maine by September 15th. Kola walked without tugging on his leash knowing that this divinely orchestrated meeting needed to be savored. The several day's prior All In had been questioning his purpose. I believe we found him a better feeling space at the end of our 30 minute hike. His subsequent blogs on trailjournals.com, appreciative email from his sister Connie and thank-you voice mail have been the most blessed highlight of my days; My Dharma of Holistic Life & Soul Coaching so clearly acknowledged by the brief encounter with a new friend on the path of life.

It was like meeting God on the Trail.

So my question to you is, What is your Dharma? Find it, Love it, Live it, Breathe it, DO IT!

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive." Howard Thurman

Interested in a sample coaching session? Visit http://www.jeweltreeoflife.com/ or call 203.240.4397 to schedule an appointment.

drift drive

There is a speed boat that sits in the midst of poison ivy forlorn and lost in the woods. Its engineless transom sits exposed and vulnerable to host the myriad of creatures looking for shelter during the storms. How did it conjure such demise? What did it do to deserve the destiny of a underutilized life? My husband and I have named this boat "drift drive". In boat lingo the drive is the type of engine that is factory installed in each vessel. Without an engine, a purpose, this boat has run aground...hard.



I reflect on this boat nearly every day as I walk past it during my morning dog walk. Is it more difficult for a the soul of a boat to be abandoned in the woods or parked in a marina overlooking the bay, still shrink wrapped on the trailer long past the fourth of July?


In contrast, the boat that I look at every time I open my front door smiles. It is so loved. It reminds me of one of the charter vessels I used to work on out of Camden, Maine named "Mistress". The love my husband has for this boat is very apparent by the amount of hours invested in polishing the hull, replacing the steering cable, sound proofing the engine hatches, recovering the cockpit seats and hiding in the cabin cozied up with satellite radio. In his eyes there is no end to the finessing. He calls the boat "Spin". I call it "Mistress". The roof of our house has leaked for five years but our boat is guaranteed watertight and hermetically sealed. Incidentally, it has a Mercruiser Bravo 3 drive. (Can't you just hear it purr?)

This past spring we ran out of fingers and toes on which to count the amount of rainy days we endured. It was the first time that I was actually relieved there was a boat in my driveway. It makes him happy though. And his happiness is my happiness particularly when we are all enjoying a day on the water.

So, getting back to "drift drive"...here is this boat that has lost all hope. Is it drowning in despair or seething with anger at being left high and dry? Is it some kind of Karmic destiny that maneuvered itself into this condition? Out of curiosity I venture deep into the woods to take a closer look. Quite unremarkably, the name of this boat that is painted front and center on the bow is "Bad Attitude".

There is no better analogy to life.  Keep a good positive frame on the engine of your mind and you will find your truth and your path lined with brilliance. Foster a bad attitude and you will land yourself amidst squadrons of mosquitoes in the poison ivy of despair.

So, my question to you is:
If you were a boat, what name would you christen yourself? Where would you go? Who would you bring?

It's a short, glorious life. Tune your engine. Take it for a Spin.

Be The Tree Philosophy

Be The Tree Philosophy

Be still.

Worry not.

Know your truth.
Grow deep roots.
Bend in the wind.
Weather the storms.
Observe much.
Act little.
Speak gently.
Host graciously.
Drink water.
Shed your leaves when they no longer serve you.
Rest in periods of dormancy.
Grow tall.
Outstretch your arms in gratitude.
Allow.

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park
 Santa Cruz California 2009

expectation vs. reality

I, as a first generation German, and my friend, as a first generation Norwegian, carry vague experiences of what life was like in the Motherland. We believe that both being raised by European parents is the crux of our similar perspective on life. I enjoy spending time with her mom.

Anna Wetlesen spent her summers camping with her three daughters, all still in cloth diapers, while her Viking husband tended his lines as a Merchant Mariner. In short, Norwegians are a hearty bunch. Attempts to genetically modify my gene structure, through high doses of Jarlesburg cheese, could never make me as strong as the stories Anna recounts.

Recently, Anna responded to a question posed by her daughter that I had never even thought to ask my mother while she was alive. "Mom? Did you like being a mother?"

Her practical, honest and succinct Norwegian answer?

 "Sometimes."

Recognizing how often I reflected back on that response indicated that there was still a sequence of reconciliation occurring within me that put my current state of motherhood more into alignment with reality. Light has been shone on the disparity between expectation vs. reality. Seeing things as they are as an adult and a parent and not how I think they should be from the dream state of childhood recollection (or Disney storyboards) has brought me greater clarity and ease.

"Sometimes" sets the stage for cautious optimism grounded in the belief that parenthood is first and foremost a responsibility. Second, that parenthood is a platform through which we, as parents, stretch and grow beyond that which we thought we were capable. Third, that parenthood is where the "sometimes" sneaks in with surprise hugs, "I love yous" in pig Latin and the gentle effervescent breaths of sleeping children. Fourth, that  only after we recognize the glitter of "sometimes" can we embrace parenthood as a privilege. It's the "sometimes" that make the whole deal worthwhile. That is powerful stuff wrapped up one word that teeters on the edge of a Fjord.

So, my question to you, regardless of whether you are a parent is this...

What in your life needs a practical Norwegian nudge to recalibrate your expectation vs. reality? What needs to shift in order for you recognize that you have been duped into the sense of entitlement of what you believed should be always to move into a state of pragmatic gratitude, that brings into focus the glitter of "Sometimes"?