Category Archives: Fun & Philosophy

Dropping the Wait…

As I write this, I must confess that I am over my ideal weight.  I suppose I could take Garfield’s stance on the subject and say I am not overweight, just undertall.

The notion is not an entirely new one for me, that of one’s weight being somehow linked to waiting, but something hit me with some weight some months back.

I was coming clean with myself. You see, along with an abundance of good humor, joy,  charm, (and modesty), I have, nonetheless, also been afraid, sad or angry at times in my life, and have, therefore, spent too much of my life waiting.  Waiting to begin something, waiting to complete something, waiting for the right person to love and love me, waiting for something to go wrong, for that which I fear to come upon me, for my own good to appear, for someone to ride in on a valiant white steed and rescue me and love me unconditionally, waiting for someone to recognize my talent and guide me toward success as a best-selling author. Been there, done that?  I suppose we all play a waiting game to some extent in some area of our lives.

All I know is all that waiting weighed me down. The literal weight didn’t come upon me until I was thirty-five years old. It was, I suppose, a self-fulfilling prophecy, based on my dear late mother’s Sicilian curse. (Said only slightly tongue-in-cheek.) Even as a young girl, I had a good appetite, and my mother would caution me, “You know, Camille, you won’t always be able to eat like that. One day you’ll start gaining weight, and it’s a shame because you have such a pretty face.” (Don’t you hate it when people say that?)

I find it fascinating that the words weight and wait are linked. Perhaps for some people it doesn’t express in literal poundage, but we all get weighed down in some way when we wait. And I’m not talking here about having healthy patience and resolve. I’m talking about what happens to our soul when we wait to follow our bliss, to go after the promotion, to take the risk, to do whatever it is in our heart to do. We’re masters at coming up with excuses. We tell ourselves we’re waiting until we are better prepared, or the time is right, we find a loving relationship, make the proper connection, have lost weight, have more money. Sometimes we wait with anticipation, (which is often fear disguised as hope), sometimes with conscious dread (which is bald-faced FEAR or False Evidence Appearing Real).  No matter the reason, the waiting conspires to erect roadblocks to our good, add pounds to our form, and create the illusion that we are irreparably stuck.

All that w a i t i n g….postponing, procrastinating, pleading, praying, pondering, posing, parlaying….paralyzes us.

 I know it has kept me in bondage, zapped my energy, and created excuses for my inertia. I grew fat on second helpings of if-onlys, chocolate-covered I can’ts, fried I should’ve dones, sugar-coated could’ve dones, and watered-down would’ve dones. Oh, I suppose nibbling from that bag of Poor Me Potato Chips didn’t help any either.

And while diets of all kinds surround us and confound us — Low fat – high carb; high fat – low carb; high protein – low fat, low carb, none of that matters nearly as much as how we nourish our souls by the choices we make every day in all areas of our lives. Every step we take, every choice we make, puts us either one step forward, one step back, or keeps us in place; and to quote Will Rogers, “Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.”

Spiritually, I know I’m always on the right path, with a detour taken here and there, usually through the land of self-doubt.  For so long the time would come when no matter how much good I was doing, I would give in to the fear and allow myself to feel unworthy again. Then I read what Marianne Williamson said about lacking the courage of our own greatness, and it rang a bell. She said that most of us are not afraid we are not good enough, we are afraid of our own greatness. I love that!

So, I’m going to step into my gifts, and, perhaps, while I drop the WAIT, I’ll also continue to drop WEIGHT.  I have already let go of almost twenty pounds.  In any event, I vow to let go of the fear and embrace my GREATNESS, even the “greatness” of my waist line for the time being, because in order to conquer it, I must love myself through it.

Here’s to dropping the WAIT…and the weight!

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Acting as if…without feeling like a fraud.

I suppose we have  all come upon the not-so-new age theory of acting as if a thing is true in order to attract it. I have given seminars on the subject;  one was called quite simply and to the point:  Create Your Own Reality.

No, it was not a support group for psychotics.  I read once, somewhere, that a neurotic is someone who builds castles in the air,  and a psychotic is someone who lives in them.  Creating our own reality,  however, in this sense, is altogether different.

Nonetheless, this acting as if  stuff can ring hollow for a lot of us, at least some of the time, and when that happens, our resolve weakens and we continue to push away our good.  I have  had participants in my workshops come up to me afterward,  inquiring about this acting as if,  claiming that they feel dishonest saying positive affirmations in current time because it is simply not the truth of their experience.   In other words,  I,  and others who encourage affirmations,  suggest you not say I am going to be happy, healthy, wealthy and wise, but, instead,  say I am happy, healthy, wealthy and wise.   My workshop attendees wanted to know how they could possibly say that when they were feeling anything but those things.  My suggestion was and is that if what you are affirming is what you truly desire to be your life experience, you must commit to saying it, believing it, and thinking of it as saying the truth in advance.

My father died at home under Hospice care in 1995.  Even with the morphine drops under his tongue, he was in pain, yet he lingered.  He just wouldn’t let go.  I thought, perhaps, he was hanging on because, even though the three of us, (my brother, sister and I), were grown, he felt he had not done right by us because he was not leaving us any money. He was always talking about that, how he was going to hit it big and leave us all enough money so we would never have to worry about money again.  He had played the lottery for years,  sometimes, we later learned,  spending as much as $50 a week.

So, I suggested to my mother that she tell him we had won the Florida lottery. At first she objected, saying she didn’t feel comfortable telling him such a lie, but I told her it was not a lie, that we could possibly win one day, so she was just telling him the truth in advance.  My father was pretty much out of it by then.  He wasn’t speaking, and only responded with grunts to certain questions.  My mother finally relented and as she leaned over the hospital bed, with a smile in her voice, she said, “Hon, we won the lottery.”  Then, with a little more verve to her voice, she said, “The big one! Seventeen million dollars!”  I laughed to myself, thinking she didn’t want to lie to him, but once she got into the spirit of the thing,  she obviously figured she might as well think BIG.  Way to go, Mom!

When my mother repeated to my father what she had said, the rest of us in the room corroborated it by high-fiving each other, and making all kinds of happy sounds.  Suddenly and very obviously, his face  softened, and the tightness in his expression evaporated.   A small smile even appeared on his lips.  He passed peacefully that evening.

My mother passed in 1998.  OK, Mom, so we have never  won the lottery.   At least, NOT YET.

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Garfield got me thinking…

I love the comic strip Garfield. For those who may somehow be unfamiliar with Garfield, he is, literally, a fat cat who gets into all kinds of mischief and who is, as one might imagine a cat to be, completely and delightfully irreverent.

Here is a description of one of my favorites: The strip was in three frames. (As Sophia from “Golden Girls” would say: “Picture it!”)

First frame: Garfield is sitting in a sofa chair directly in front of the TV. A caption bubble coming from the TV says: “I love hosting this show…”

Second frame: Same setting. TV bubble says: “Absolutely love it!”

Third & last frame: TV bubble: “It means I don’t have to watch it!”

Caption bubble above Garfield shows he is thinking: “I wish I hosted it.”

Our take on it, of course, is that Garfield agrees with the host, that he, too, would rather be hosting than watching what, apparently, seems to be neither a funny nor interesting show.  

What it brought up for me, however, was this question: How many of us host our own lives? How many of us merely watch it from some out-of-body—out-of-mind perspective, as mere observers?

And to what kind of show would we liken our lives anyway? A little more convoluted than Barbara Walters asking, “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would be?”  A question which Ms. Walters claims she never directly asked anyone, but I wish someone would answer that question one day with: “The kind of tree on which dogs are not inspired to release themselves.” In a more serious vein, I would answer: “One that bears magical fruit, produces lovely flowers, and provides some shade.”

But I digress…back to my Garfield-inspired premise: If your life were a TV show, what kind of TV show would it be? A drama…. a serial killer of dreams on the rampage? A soap opera? One calamity after another? A Lifetime movie, more prone to induce tears than laughter? Would you say it would be a sit-com where laughter is sometimes canned, sometimes real, or is it just a comedy—of errors?

Perhaps your life is more like a game show? If so, are you the host, the one who asks all the questions, the one who likes to be in charge, but never participates? Or are you the on-edge contestant, always trying to figure out the way to play the game, always hoping you come up with the right answer in time, always suspecting the other contestants somehow have an advantage, that maybe someone fed them the answers? Perhaps you are, instead, the confident contestant, sure of the way the game is played, sure of your responses? Or are you just someone in the audience, getting vicarious thrills and chills, afraid to play the game for fear you’d make a fool of yourself?

Or…dare I ask it, is your life more like a reality show? A Reality show? How’s that for a misnomer? The only thing real about them is that they are cheap to produce. No actors to pay, no script writers to pay because there is no script, per se, just some banal, repeated lines for not-so-clever hosts to say while introducing stunts. Of course, for our purposes, you might want to think of God as the host, (Let’s give a hand to the Host more clever than most!), and Your Life,  as The Reality Show. The events of your life would be the stunts God sets up for you, or that you co-created with God while still on the other side; that is, if you believe that’s the way the universe works.

What kind of TV show would my life be? Thanks for asking. (You did ask, didn’t you?) My life would not be a TV show as much as a movie, for wide release, of course, (no pun on my weight intended. Yeah, right). It would be part fantasy, part science non-fiction, starring a woman who is on the verge of discovering, or remembering, who she really is: a spiritual being having an earthly experience. It would be more of psychological filler than action thriller because most of what goes on would be underneath the surface. The events of my life would be played out as a combination of drama, comedy, and game show (as I’m always asking and posing questions), with a little bit country…a little bit rock and roll…(Hey, how did Donny and Marie Osmond get in here?). And there would be the perfunctory soap opera scene or two. (Come on, how can I be Sicilian and not have some melodrama in my life?) The second half of the movie would follow a final Aha moment, where I would get it. I would truly get it—namely, that thought really is creative, and that all I have to do to manifest anything I desire is to think it, see it  happening without a shadow of a doubt, (therein lies the rub), and know that it already exists on some plane of existence, and Poof….it would come into being.

Well, not quite Poof–not yet. Initially, it would come into being via earth-time manifestations; you know, making the right connections, showing up at the right time in the right place, but soon enough, the thing would simply manifest instantaneously, as if I had been transported to a time in the future when I would have already taken the steps to create it. Ultimately, having everything I desire, I might, of course, decide GAME OVER, choosing to move on to the next level and transition out of this existence, or I might choose to appear as though I haven’t yet gotten it, and linger on earth a while longer in order to teach others what I have learned. Hmmm…..could it be that’s what I’m doing now and don’t know it yet? Perhaps that’s what we’re all doing. God, do we operate in some pretty spectacular disguises or what?

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