In April 2009 as the plane crossed the Cascade mountain range to land in Seattle, Washington, I was overcome by the beauty of the mountains below me.  My heart swelled up into my throat and tears spilled down my face.  "I don't want to die in Ohio," was the thought that ran through my mind.  Later a friend helped me find clarity on that thought.  When I shared it with her, she said, "You mean you don't want to live in Ohio."

My story is that I came to Seattle drawn by the mountains, the water and the trees.  The attraction of the energy here was too much for me to resist.  That combined with the fact that I was spiritually dying just a little more each day in my situation in Ohio, Seattle is where I wanted to be.  Some say I was running away from something.  I was running to safety.  Little did I know what was to come.


I did not know that there was a large Asian population in Seattle.  As you can see from the graph on the right that Lancaster, Ohio, which is where I spent most of my life has very few minorities, let alone Asians.  Seattle's population, the graph on the left, is 12.1% Asian.  For me that provides the unusual experience of being able to walk down the street and see other faces like mine.
 
The additional gift in this experience is that in working at InSpa at Factoria Mall, I spend five days a week with other Asian women - Vietnamese, Chinese, and most importantly for me, Korean.  One of the nail technicians is Kim.  She was born in Korea and is five years older than I am. 

When Kim heard my story of being adopted from an orphanage in Seoul, raised in Ohio, and miraculously landing in Seattle, she asked, "Have you ever gone back to 'our country?'"  Kim took the time to share her experience and memories of post-war Korea.  She kept saying, "Our country was so poor.  There were no jobs for the men.  No jobs for the women . . . . You really should go back to our country some day."

That is the first time in my life that someone has drawn me in, included me in a race, a nation, a culture.

Kim has also encouraged me to see if I can locate any of my Korean family.  The farthest I've gotten with that is to contact the Holt International to confirm that I was indeed adopted from their orphanage.  Kim told me to listen to the Korean Broadcasting System.  Where families have been reconnected.  She says, "You never know.  Miracles happen all the time."

As my friend, Larry, says, "There's more to be revealed."

Have you had miracles, synchronous events happen in your life that led to the next wonderful thing and the next wonderful thing?


Space Needle photo from Flickr.com.

Forgive me if I write crap.  I've been stuck, stalled, plagued by self-doubt, the voices of a not so distant past and fear of speaking my truth even if my voice shakes.  I'm just going to forge ahead, dishing out crap when that's all I have until I find my voice again.

I'm also returning to what I know best - helping people feel better in mind, body & spirit.  That is not social media marketing.  My interlude into social media marketing came about in the ever changing tap dance of trying to make money and make someone else happy.  I've learned since then that I cannot make anyone happy.  I can only be true to myself.


For days I have been asking for inspiration, wisdom and guidance as divorce papers sit in the red, white & blue priority mail envelope on the table.  It's the only thing I know to do when I don't know what to do.  My saving grace is that I believe in not only asking but also in receiving.  Miracles for me are not huge earth shaking events.  They are subtle signs, symbols, people who come into my life, or Cosmic Postcards that create a shift in my consciousness.


This morning I took Dharma for her morning constitutional.  Carrying around baggies of dog poo is not my favorite thing to do so as we walked back toward our apartment, I stopped at the trash station to throw away a bag.  Sitting beside the dumpster, out in the open was a blue box that said, "Autobiography of a Yogi.  52 Cards & Booklet." 


I'm not normally a trash picker but I opened the box and the first card which read:

Always remember that you belong to no one, and no one belongs to you.  Reflect that some day you will suddenly have to leave everything in this world - so make the acquaintanceship of God now.

The true test of the effectiveness of our meditation is how we walk it out into our lives.

Yesterday, I had the most stimulating conversations with two gentleman about focusing and finding balance in jobs that demanded up to 16 - 20 hours a day.

Each time a 20 hour day was mentioned, I asked, "Does it really take 20 hours a day to do your job?"  At first the answer was always a firm "yes" followed by a litany of rationalizations.  Eventually, we reached, "Well, maybe not.  Maybe not if I could focus my energy more efficiently.  Maybe not if I could stop projecting my energy into the future.  Maybe not if I could become more efficient and effective with my time."

Maybe not. 

Maybe your job doesn't take all the energy and stress you invest in it.  Maybe stress has become your default and you feel more than a little bored and unimportant if you're not busy, busy, busy . . .

For me, morning meditation is the most important time of the day.  It allows me to be in a space of balance - even if just for those few moments.  The effect is that throughout the day, when life throws challenges my way, it's easier to come back to center if I started there in the first place.

When asked,  "How should I meditate?  How should I pray?  I asked, "What were you taught in your childhood?  Do that.  Allow that simple practice to be the starting point from which to expand."

However, meditation and prayer are not rituals to be left on the mat as we charge out the door to conquer the world.  They are tools that we can carry with us into the car, onto the freeway, through the door of the office, into the conference room, onto the plane . . . And very often, we do not pick up those tools until we have lost our temper, our job, our spouse, our balance - until we face a situation of chaos that causes us to yearn for balance one more.

The true test of our meditation is how we take it into the market place of our daily lives.

Photo by H.Kloppdelaney on Flickr.com

Why do I ask so many questions the first time you have a massage therapy appointment with me?
 

• Are you on any medication?
• If so, what is it for?
• Have you had any injuries or accidents?
• Do you have any chronic diseases?
• Have you recently been sick?
• What kind of physical activity do you do all day?
• Do you exercise or play sports?
• Are there any specific places where you hold muscle tension?
• How do you feel today?

Lots of questions, huh?  Your answers are my clues that lead me to what is really stressing your body.  If you sit in an office all day at a computer, I know that your neck, shoulders and the middle of your back are probably tense.  You may have a stabbing pain right between your shoulder blades.
 
If you're an athlete, all I need to know is what kind of sports you play.  If you're a runner, I KNOW what it feels like to have tight, quads & hams and an IT band that you could bounce a quarter on.  If you're a weight lifter and you can't turn your neck, chances are that you strained one of the muscles when you were lowering the weight.  If you're a soccer player, you don't have to explain very much about your muscle tension - I feel your pain.

If you're a full-time mom, I understand what it feels like to spend most of your day standing with one hip jutted out of alignment to create a stable shelf on which to sit a toddler.  If you have a newborn, you spend a lot of time with your thoracic spine leaning backward and a newborn baby on your chest. 

See why I ask all those questions at our first session?  Don't worry, you don't have to answer every question every time.  During the following sessions, I usually just ask:

How's your body today?

The one thing I've learned working at White House|Black Market is that almost no woman (at least none that I've met yet) likes her body.  Somewhere in life every woman compares her figure to another woman's figure and finds herself lacking.  Or at some time in life, some jerk has given her a label or made fun of her in some way and that image is indelibly planted in her mind's eye for the rest of her life.

Over the weekend, I worked with a customer who was looking for a special dress for an event.  She wanted a short dress.  She looked good in almost every style I brought her.  Yet every time she tried on a dress, she complained about her "skinny legs".  Finally, after an hour of listening to her complain about her legs, I asked, "Did someone TELL you that you had skinny legs?  Do you know what I would give for skinny legs?"  The answer, of course, was "yes" - someone told her she had "skinny legs".  Her brain translated that into "ugly legs".  Throughout the session, She also complained about having a scar on her knee.  I laughed and showed her my left leg which has various scars from ankle to knee from surgeries to repair sports injuries.  Can you imagine two women in a store comparing scars?



When I was about 8 or 9 years old, my brother-in-law told me that I was built like a football player- short and stocky.  I heard, "you're short and fat."  No matter what I saw in the mirror or what anyone else told me, that was the image in my mind. 

To add injury to insult, I hit puberty and adolescence in a small Ohio town when the Brady Bunch was all the rage.  When being attractive to boys was of supreme importance, I could not meet the blonde, blue-eyed standard set by Marsha Brady nor did I have the requisite blossoming bust that acts like a magnet to teenage boys.  I had big legs and small breasts.  Once again, all the messages filtered through my mind and the image created there was that I was "short, fat, ugly."


It wasn't until I started playing soccer (European football) that I started making some kind of peace with my body.  While I was sitting on the ground, all hot & sweaty, taking off my cleats, a man approached me to invite me to play on a 7 v. 7 team.  I felt like a kid on a playground that finally got picked to play ball.  You know the kid - the kid no one wants on their team.  It was that invitation that made me grateful for "small breasts and big legs."  Over 10 years later, I've realized that I'm built for speed, short sprints, small moves . . .

Now I can see myself as I am; not as someone else tells me I am. 

One of the things I love about working in a clothing store and being a professional life coach is that I have the opportunity to work with many, many women on their body image.  Some women have lost large amounts of weight and still choose clothes for a larger body because in their minds, they're still large.  Some women are slender and cannot see themselves honestly.  Sometimes it just take a different size or a little cheer leading to help a woman feel better about herself.  Sometimes I just ask a woman to believe that I believe she can look good, and feel good in her own body.

How do you feel in your body?  What does your mind's eye tell you?  Did someone make fun of you as a kid?

Photo by Will Plant on Flickr.com

Soccer came to me here in Seattle.  All I really did was start thinking about it and talking about it.  A woman showed up one day at White House|Black Market looking for a dress to wear to a wedding.  By the time she left the store, we had connected on the soccer level and she walked away with my name and phone number.  Little did I know that I was living in soccer heaven.

Tonight I played my third game after ACL reconstructive surgery on my left knee last August.  The knee has held up well.  I've recovered my stamina if not my speed which is a big deal when playing 45 minute halves.  As luck would have it, I've joined a team that always plays short with no subs.  We lost tonight but we had some nice "give & goes".

Tonight we played at Starfire Sports in Tukwila, Washington.  It felt like soccer heaven.  Eleven outdoor fields surround a huge athletic center with two indoor fields, a pro shop, weight room and more.

It's such a luxury to play on artificial turf under lights in an outdoor league.  The surface is so smooth compared to the grass fields that are prone to potholes, bare spots and other challenges to a player's ankles and knees.

One of my favorite things tonight was the women's locker room where there were showers.  The last time I played, I wiped my legs down with baby wipes.  Tonight I took a hot shower in the women's locker room. 

It was a good night.

 

Dear Customer Service Rep:

Yes, you can have my account number and my name.

I'm sorry.  What was your name again.  You were talking so fast, I didn't catch it.

Yes, you can help me.  As soon as you take a deep breath or pause in your pitch, I'll let you know what I need.

No, I don't need all that auxiliary information.  I have already taken those steps.  If you STOP TALKING long enough to let me tell you what I need, you can help me.

What do I need to do now?

Yes, I understand what you just said but what do you need from me?

What's my next step?

Do you need anything else from me?

I repeat:  Do you need anything else from me?

I'm sorry, perhaps you didn't hear me the first time because YOU ARE NOT LISTENING:  what do I need to do next?  Not 14 days from now.  Not six months from now.  RIGHT NOW!  WHAT DO I NEED TO DO?

No, customer service rep, you can't help me any further.  You have helped me more than I can bear.  Have a nice day.

Warmly,
Pixie

Photo by Desiree Delgado on Flickr.com.

Have you ever felt yourself weeping at an opera? 

Does the theme from the movie, Jaws, strike fear in your heart? 

Have you ever thought about intentionally choosing music to help inspire you or energize you?

In June 2009, the feelings of fear, anxiety and grief weighed heavy on my heart.  My energy was being sucked away by those feelings.  All action on my coaching and massage practice stopped.  I was consumed. 

In July 2009, I decided to do something about it by creating a play list on iTunes called "Happy" with the intention of allowing the energy of the music to build my energy.  The list included songs like:

• We Will Rock You, Queen
• I'm Coming Out, Diana Ross
• Anticipation, Carly Simon
• Respect, Aretha Franklin
• I'm so Excited, The Pointer Sisters

Later I added:

• We Are All Connected, Symphony of Science
• Glorious Dawn, Colorpulse
• Live Like You Were Dying, Tim McGraw
  
• Coming Around Again, Carly Simon
  
• Never Been Gone, Carly Simon
• Reach, Gloria Estafan

For the first few months of 2010, my theme song was Have a Heart by Bonnie Raitt.  "Hey, shut up.  Don't lie to me . . . couldn't handle the little bit of love you took . . . . little by little you fade while I fall apart . . . . "

It just ran through my mind without my conscious intention.  Subconsciously it was planted like the unwanted jingle from the radio.

Then it changed.

It changed to Reach by Gloria Estafan.  "Some dreams live on in time forever. Those dreams we want with all our heart . . . . "  It changed to We Are All Connected by Symphony of Science.  "We're all connected to each other biologically, to the earth chemically, to the rest of the Universe . . . the Cosmos is within in us.  We are made of star stuff!"

Did the music change because I changed or did I change because the music changed?

So I invite you to intentionally use music.  If you want to feel sad, listen to sad music.  If you want to feel angry, listen to angry music.  If you want to feel broken hearted . . . Get the idea?

Photo by Denise A. Wells on Flickr.com.

Do you have great expectations?  Or have you heard that expectations are premeditated resentments?  Do you have high hopes?  Or are you afraid to get your hopes up too high?

Too many times I've listened to someone start sharing her vision of a dream with me and say, "I don't want to get my hopes up."  Or that same person says, "I don't want to jinx it by talking about it."  Then I heard, "expectations are just premeditated resentments."

Would it be nice to be free of all those fearful cliches?

It's not the hopes or talking about our dreams that jinx us; it is the lack of self-awareness and trusting our conscious brain (the one that says 300-1000 words to us a minute) that leads to our disappointment.  It is whatever you believe in your heart that calls your life to you.

Do you have great expectations in your heart?  Are high hopes radiating from your highest mind?