Universe, Thanks For The New Talent. Yick.

My mom is empathic, but it's in a way that I've always been able to accept, because she's my mom. Like when I was in Woodstock on vacation a few years ago and got a sudden toothache, and called her two days later and mentioned I'd had a tooth pulled and her response was "The second tooth from the back on the lower left?" Yes, Mom. .

My mom has been doing stuff like that my whole life, and because it's my mom and we're very connected anyway, and also because it's a little annoying in that way only your mom can be because she seems to know EVERYTHING, it never struck me as all that strange.

Except now. Athena is ill and I went to see her a few days ago. It was a bit like that scene in "Be Kind, Rewind," where every time Jack Black walks by the television the static goes in waves because he's magnetized. I went near her, I felt sick, she felt better. I walked away, I felt better, she felt worse. I'm assuming she got her appetite back yesterday afternoon, because I was ravenously hungry for no good reason.

If nothing else, it's an eye-opener about how 'one' we all really are. And Mom, I'll never make fun of you again. This kind of sucks, in the coolest possible way. Love you, Mom.

Peace,

Jen

Tiny little miracles

1) My computer rose from the dead this morning, bowed low at the waist and tap danced around the room. While it was making me some tea in an elaborate ceremony, the doorbell rang and the new battery for it came. The computer clicked its heels in glee. After two hours on the phone with (remarkably nice and helpful) Dell tech support people on Friday, who had me do everything short of attaching jumper cables to the laptop and starting it off the engine of my car, I'm in genuine shock that flipping the on switch this morning actually worked.

2) I may have an opportunity to periodically go to London for work, neatly and shockingly solving the problem of how I am ever going to see my best friend from childhood who lives two hours from London by train. Even the possibility of this blows my mind. Who ever actually gets what they want? Me?

3) In the debacle following the computer's three days on the slab (I guess it's Happy Easter for the computer), my fabulous Andrea offered me the use of her home office, which I am going to take her up on starting this week. This is another one of those unbelievably lucky and generous happenstances -- I really need to work somewhere other than my house with the working husband next to me at least some of the time, and I would not be able to afford an office space on my own.

4) We loaned a friend of ours a chunk of money several months ago when they couldn't make their rent. We later told the friend they didn't need to pay us back. Genuinely felt that way. Said friend has since gotten lucrative work and not only wants to pay us back but offered to help us start a college fund for our son and make sure our investments line up. Said friend is in finance industry. Said friend rocks.

5) I stopped drinking coffee this weekend after having food poisoning Friday night and figuring that it might be a good time to clean the slate of abusing my body, mainly with caffeine and sugar. The miracle part of this is by taking vitamin supplements and sleeping when I needed to, I somehow never turned into the Jabberwocky nor ate my friends and family whole in one big gulp.

Til later.

I petitioned the universe the other day (for more on this, go read Eat, Pray, Love , in fact, go get it right now and read it ten times. I've almost finished it and when I'm done I'm just going to read it again).

There's an old emotional injury of mine that's sort of like a psychotic teacup poodle -- it gnashes it teeth and snarls at me and I still carry it everywhere and clean up its poop. Rather than work through the issue or pray to have it removed from me, I just stated my case. I asked to be free of the problem so that I could be happier and have a more fulfilled life, and be a better contributor to the planet.

And regarding the other person involved, the one who poisoned my poodle and made it nuts in the first place, I asked that s/he be free of this pain as well, that s/he is a marvelous person who can do great things with his/her life, but they need this cloud removed from their sky as well.

And don't you know, I didn't get some miraculous phone call the next day with tearful apologies, but that's good because that would just be continuing the drama for all involved, which isn't what I want.

However, the weird thing I did get is that my posture visibly improved. It's like I got new shoulders. Which I needed, because the old ones were carrying around this old wound like it was this season's oversized "it" bag.

Oh, so that's how it works

Over the weekend, I saw my dear friend R, she of the divine serendipity and the hatred of John Donne. We were walking across Houston Street at a busy and bright 6:15 on Saturday to catch a cab to a restaurant and meet some friends for dinner. We'd just spent an hour and a half getting makeovers, and hadn't really spoken much beyond rhapsodies over eachother's sparkling eyelids.

She asked how I was doing, and I blurted out:

"I'm okay, I just wish all these little physical problems I'm having would clear up."

"Like what? What's wrong?"

"Oh, stupid little things. My hand was hurting for awhile but then it stopped but now the pinkie on that hand is hurting again. My knees ache. I have headaches, but just once in a great while. Doesn't seem worth going to doctor, but I do need to get all these things cleared up."

The next day I got this message on my voicemail that said I'd won a prize in a raffle that benefits children's programming at our local playground. I won a free hour of acupuncture.

At first I was disappointed, despite the faint shimmer of the thrill of winning something, anything, by chance. But acupuncture didn't seem too glamourous, not like dinner at a restaurant or a manicure at the local day spa.

But acupuncture might help fix my pinkie, my knees and my headaches. Duh.

I slapped my achey head with my gimpy little hand.

#25: Let Everyone Find Their Bliss

I know there's only about 20 of you reading this regularly -- and to those 20 of you, I say hail the tastemakers! I've been too tired to write anything substantive -- and by tired, for a change, I don't mean lazy. I'm literally exhausted and working to find out if there is a root cause.

Having spent nearly a week going through periods where I can't really move, I've gotten a little desperate, and a little whacked out, so I started asking the universe point blank for what I need the most last night as I lay in bed.

Please let me have my energy back so I can accomplish the things I need to.

Please let my son feel better (he has a cold)

Please let my friend K find the love of his life, cause I'm pretty sure he needs outside assistance.

Where the hell did that come from?

Next thing I know I'm asking for everything, for everyone I can think of.

And here's the thing. I've come to believe that we can all achieve what we need to in this lifetime. Joseph Campbell, Mr. Find Your Bliss himself, believed that reincarnation was a metaphor for continuing to die and be reborn in this lifetime until you achieve enlightenment.

I worry sometimes that this blog is just so much navel gazing. But I also think that as a society we have a responsibility to get ourselves in order. To be positive, to treat others with kindness, to be conscious of why we do the things we do.

So, here's what I want. For you to find your bliss, and for me to find mine. Let me know what I can do to help.

Tomorrow, I'll start to go beyond that.

#4: Help me to keep my eyes open to the gifts i'm being given, or, Duh.

I reviewed the last entry and mentally smacked myself in the forehead, which by the way still smarted just a bit.

I'm overweight. I'm just overweight enough to not be clinically obese, but I'm too damn overweight. I've made several attempts to lose it. Methods have ranged from by burning calories by complaining to smaller portions of dinner without changing much else.

This time I'm on an actual diet and actually exercising and by exercising I don't mean the ten sun salutations I slog through every so often. I mean running.

Encouragement from my best friend to go to the gym has helped as has general advice from my husband, a former college track runner whose primary nicknames were 'Legs' and 'Tiger'. Both of which are hot, and both of which I must start calling him again immediately, come to think of it.

The thing that tipped the scales for me was my son's pediatrician. Who by the way is tiny and cute and a wonderful doctor and if he would let me I'd put him in my pocket and have him live there.

When my son was first born I was scared I'd pass on some of my lesser traits to him (depression, asthma, addicition to Molly Ringwald movies). The asthma was the big fear, because having it as a kid terrified me. On any given day, you just suddenly can't breathe.

When I talked to Pocket Doctor about it he gave me some nutritonal advice and things to look for but the best thing he said to me personally was this: There's really no such thing as exercise induced asthma. You get that when you've never been toned or trained properly to be active (hmm, that's me), and then are forced to be too active (my high school gym teachers, who addressed everything from your period to a broken leg with "Stick a FIST in it! Walk it OFF!").

So, in the last couple of weeks I've determined that the time is at hand to get in control of my health and weight. The biggest motivator is honestly that my son is quite the climber, and I don't want to be the parent watching him be active from the sidelines and wishing I had the strength to do it myself. Cause that's lame.

And also so, I spoke to a total stranger yesterday who told me several ways that he works out dilligently and takes care of himself that he does so because he wants to live and is lucky to have had the chance to live.

Duh.

And so last night, I went out for a run. And I laughed the entire time.

Until tomorrow.