I feel fierce. I feel fiercely passionate about being me and helping others find their “me”.  My passion is to light up some dark corner that holds the magic key to self discovery. I have found that key, though I am not sure I can assuredly say I know the key for any other being. Until someone asks me a question.

I know I have hit upon something that is truth when I see the light in that person’s eyes. It goes on. There is a sparkle. I live for the sparkle. I pray that I say something that will help this person before me feel the river of love. That is my desire. That is my life’s work.

The life I stand in now feels so very familiar, though I can’t say that I have allowed it to surface clearly until recently. There was a fear that being this me that I was getting to know again would be rejected as I perceived it to be when I was quite young and since. However, that fear no longer keeps me quiet. I acknowledge it and move ahead anyway. With fierce grace.

And now back to the move. Here I am writing when shouldn’t I be packing? And why am I not all panicky? Isn’t that what I did in the past? Isn’t that part of moving, stressing? I’m not. I feel fine and know that all will happen as it will with my guidance finely attuned.
This house is big enough for two. Does that mean that I will have a housemate? Perhaps. Though not right away. Let the kids get settled in, have the time to get the rest of their things out of the lower level and then he moves in. I want my housemate to be a man. I like living with a man. I like the energy of a boy-man. Playful, adventurous, calm, funny, likes to watch movies with a bowl of popcorn and me and Molly and Chloe..
He must be neat and tidy, though not a neat freak. Comfortably neat and tidy. Takes care of himself and his things and has them all in perspective. He’s got a good job, a consistent job that gives me extra time to hang out now and then. He has some interest in my work and offers suggestions from time to time. He listens. He is open to exchange with me and likes it. Seeks it out.
He has his own world of which he invites me in. I invite him into mine. He is someone I trust hanging out with my grandchildren. Though probably won’t let that happen. Not unless there is a group of them. I just want to know that I can run an errand and trust him with my dogs and my grandkids.
It’d be great if he likes to garden and is good at it. And cook too. Food I like. And a bike. He should have a bike. We occasionally bike to the movies. Bookstore.

So I put out the call. I am looking for a housemate of impeccable spirit. Starting when? I don’t know right now. Maybe after the holidays? Or before would be fine. Maybe he moves in after the holidays or right before new years eve…hmm. That sounds right. Starting the year off with a housemate. That sounds right.
And now I must really get back to the move. I spent an hour talking to my youngest daughter who is making some big plans for her life. She is a courageous woman and she is beginning to look at herself differently, like of course she can do it, because she is.
All three of my children are courageous and smart and intuitive. I admire all very much and learn from at least one of them daily.
Now. I go. Pack boxes full of stuff.
Take care of you…Breah

We are all connected thru all time with the love we share in our hearts. The only thing that separates us is fear. Why are we so afraid of each other? Instead of looking at each other as though one of us is out to inflict pain on the other, how about looking at each other innocently, expectant of receiving kindness, justice, honesty, love?

Over the weekend I had an “altercation” with a man who seemed determined to blame other people for his misery. It was the second weekend in a row that a man has flung his anger toward me for no reason I was aware of participating in. Last weekend was as simple as a mean comment because he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted as quickly as he wanted it…probably. Which probably came from some other belief…

I was working at my family’s café, Beans and Berries, and was called behind the register to take care of a void. I looked up as I saw the man walk to the register, smiled and continued doing what needed to be done in order to take his order. He made a comment that sounded like a teasing, happy thing and I looked up again, all open to what he said. Instead of being nice, as all of our customers have been, he spit out a few words letting me know he felt ignored. The words were laced with attack. I was shocked and the words went into my heart like someone hit my chest with a baseball bat. I hadn’t anticipated his anger and I didn’t know what to do other than apologize and begin to take his order, which I was then ready to do, though I truly wanted to tell him my reaction to his being mean. And I didn’t.

This weekend, on the way to the grocery store to pick up some yogurt for Beans and Berries, a man stopped short and quickly in the lane just a couple car lengths in front of me. He apparently felt the need to chastise someone for dipping the front of his car over the curb coming out of a fast food parking lot. As he was expressing his anger I was quickly averting rear-ending his car. Relieved that I had successfully managed to clear his bumper, I continued up the road feeling gratitude for paying attention at that moment.

A few seconds later, I heard the roar of the man’s car passing me and looked over in time to see him aggressively waving his middle finger at me. Again, shock. I made an agreement with myself that if he turned into the grocery store lot, I would make sure he knew his behavior was unacceptable. Sure enough he pulled in, I pulled in, and we met near the door. I informed him of what had occurred with an intention of being a teacher. Instead of listening, he told me to shut up and get out of his face. A fire ignited in my belly and I reacted with my own anger, albeit hushed. I turned to him and said “And do NOT give me the finger” and continued my very fast walk back to the dairy case. But he was not done. He muttered something that sounded even nastier and I turned again and told him he needed to go home. And I meant it. He was spilling his nasty feeling everywhere and even though I knew better I caught it and spun it back around. Out of the corner of my eye I saw people turn to see what was happening.
Behaving with random anger, from this level to walking in with a gun, is a way of blaming other people for what is perceived as injustice. Somebody has to pay and so we find someone or a group of someones to take responsibility because we won’t. It builds until it explodes all over the place. The answer is to take responsibility for our own life. We are the ones who create our world by our perception. We must take responsibility to change the things we can change within ourselves and accept the things we cannot change as the gift of opportunity for growth or just plain the experience of living in this world at this time. That is why I believe these men showed up in my life, to give me an opportunity to stretch my muscle of compassionate understanding and boundary setting. I imagine someone else will show up with their anger to give me another chance to move through such with sustained grace.

I hope that I am ready. It is my intention to lead with love.

For me the answer is yoga and even more clearly so today as I realize that my practice has fallen way off and that must be the reason why my mind is working its way around itself, going over and over similar thoughts. The yoga studio where I’d been practicing 3-4 times a week has closed for more reasons than the economic outlook. I’ve found a new studio that is not nearly so convenient distance or class time-wise. I’m having to create a new habit amidst the chaos, find my peaceful road while my mind jumps from one thought to another. My routine has been upset and my way to getting a new one seems unclear.

What I know is this feeling and situation is temporary. Been here many times and done this many times. And it is not so bad. I mean after all, I’ve got my health, my work, my family and friends, my barking companions (part of the chaos at any time) and a fairly positive outlook. So what to do? Write for one thing. Doing this is helpful. Having some one or two of you reading this is incentive. Who are you? Write to me and the others (more than one or two) reading this Verbal Remedies blog and talk about your own way of getting into a peaceful place and still participate in your life.

Another thing I will do is pull out my yoga mat and create my own practice here at home. I haven’t even been so good at that lately. I’ve kind of slumped away from all that holds me up strongly while I’ve been taking care of biznis. A dear friend who is studying astrology has told me that all of this is “in the stars” and planets. That is a relief and so is listening to the stories of other people who are experiencing their version of my story.

Ultimately, there is a deep trust that resides in me that all is just fine and somehow-someway there is a plan and a reason for all of it. I’ve seen pretty good results in my life from that line of thinking and belief. As Dorey says with her big fish smile, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” Now go clean the toilet.

“You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour. Now you must go back and tell the people that this is The Hour.

And there are things to be considered:

* Where are you living?
* What are you doing?
* What are your relationships?
* Are you in right relation?
* Where is your water?
* Know your garden.
* It is time to speak your Truth.
* Create your community.
* Be good to each other. And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water. See who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

—The Elders Oraibi
Arizona Hopi Nation

Tune in next time to see if shift happens and Breah can really let go…dum de dum dum dahhhhhhh! Cut to commercial.

My relationship with my mother is the latest gift. A few weeks ago I answered her Skype call to the sound of her saying loudly and with conviction “Oh my God, you look like hell!” I was stunned. I was on my way out the door, ready to face my world, feeling just fine with myself. She said it again. “You do. You look like hell!” To add insult to injury, there was a computer technician sitting at her desk. I said “Well, I guess my mother thinks I look like hell. I’m gonna go now.” And I clicked off-line.

Phew. I sat there breathing, knowing she did not or could not have meant to hurt me. She loves me, right? Within a short time Mom began Skyping me, calling my cell. I let them all ring for a couple days until I knew what to do. I wrote her an email and let her know without animosity that was not appropriate for me. Within hours, she left a voicemail and wrote an email profusely apologizing for what she said. That may not seem like much to you but to me that was a gift of my entire lifetime. I don’t remember a single time my mother ever said she was sorry to me for anything…and in my mind there’s been a ton of stuff she could’ve and should’ve apologized for. I said a prayer of amazed thanks to whatever it was that supported that to happen because it has changed my life and my relationship with my mother.

Immediately afterward I spent 5 days with her at my brother’s house in Austin. We flew together from Atlanta and returned together to Atlanta. I enjoyed every minute I had with her. I particularly enjoyed her girlish happiness at the thought of being in love and engaged to be married. She had called this year her “swan song” and I truly think she believed she would die this year. The only thing about her that died is that wall she had built up around her heart that kept her safe from loving and being loved. Hooray!

I Skyped with her today and saw this woman who is so very happy and I cried. I fill up with tears at the thought right now. My mother is deliciously happy and in love. The man she loves decided she was his “the one” last December and up until 3 weeks ago Mom considered Russ “too nice”. Today she described him as differently. She described him with the love that is growing inside her for him. I feel so much gratitude that my mother is now looking at life through very different eyes. She is looking with eyes of love.

Ahhhhmen.