to everyone I know. This signifies my official coming out as a God-is-Love-la-la-la-hippie to some people in my life -- I'm sure they suspected anyhow. What's written below applies to you all, too. I'm getting on the bullhorn and asking for requests.
----
Hey Folks,
As you may know, I started a blog back in August 2007, called Are You There God, It's Me, Blogging (http://areyoutheregoditsmeblogging.blogspot.com/). And yes, I do have plans to get in touch with Judy Blume. You can get a good idea of what it's about from the opening entry: http://areyoutheregoditsmeblogging.blogspot.com/2007/08/question-1-universe-please-help-me.html .
The basic idea is that every day (that's in Jen time, so it's more like every so often) I ask the Universe for something, and blog the results. It's been a really interesting tool for getting me to write every day, and to consider those pesky little questions like The Meaning of Life.
I'm writing you now because frankly, I need material, and I'm also very interested in having this blog go beyond me and whether I need need the line at the bank to be short on a given day. I'd like you, or your friends, or your friends of friends, and eventually total strangers, to write in their requests for me to query the Universe on their behalf. I will repost this email as today's entry, and requests can be made to the comments section.
I don't believe I have any kind of super powers. I do have some hippie leanings toward the power of collective thought and prayer. At minimum, it will be interesting to see what happens, which is what this blog has been about from the beginning.
Thanks for your help!
Love,
Jen
Showing posts with label DIY redemption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DIY redemption. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Universe, Help Us Help Eachother
Two things.
One.
In the last post I mentioned being the change you want to see in the world. A friend of mine is on the verge of falling in love, and the lucky gentleman is coming to visit her. Her apartment is in an interesting state of flux. She has new sheets, but they're still in the box. Framed paintings, but they're sitting on the floor. I felt with great certainty that her home should be beautiful and finished, now. It was hard to tell her that, because I felt like it was none of my business. I offered to paint, then to put together a party where all her friends got together and finished her apartment in one day. She said it was the nicest thing ever. I said, no, it's not. It's friendship. And she said, no, it's love. So of course I'll do it. People have done these things for me, and of course I'll do these things for them. It will be wonderful. It will be unusual. It will be joyful. It will be people painting a house and putting up shelves so our friend can open the door, perhaps, to the love of her life, and be ready. And who knows what will come next as a result. It is worth mentioning that this is the same friend who has given me free office space, and put me in touch with the company that gave me my new and fabulous job. So of course I'll do it, and so happily.
Two.
I get very frustrated by Hollywood and the media (and sometimes by blogs) because it can feel like I have no control over whose personality I have to deal with every day, even though I don't know these people. If Britney Spears had keys to my apartment, I'd have my locks changed and call the cops. I'd also call her mother and delicately suggest rehab and a psych consult, because to my relatively uniformed eye, she looks like a drug addict self-medicating for any number of psychological conditions.
So now Heath Ledger is dead. Talented, young, and apparently a drug addict. That really sucks. What sucks more, and sucks every time I hear about a young and talented person injecting themselves into the hereafter, is that they died before they got the help they needed. And what sucks when I hear about musicians in their 50s who did drugs for 30 years suddenly dying of cancer or heart failure or what have you, nobody actually says, hmmm, maybe the drugs wore out your body and your ability to fight off disease.
I have great sympathy for anyone with a drug or alcohol problem, whether they are able to help themselves or not. I have deep problems with the media for publicizing the 'wacky' or 'car-wreck' behavior of people who are clearly addicts and need help. And I have deep problems with partiers and sychophants who create and maintain a sick environment, who don't do everything they can to help a known addict.
May you all be surrounded by friends who want the best for you and will do what they can to make your life the best. May you all be those kind of friends. May you help me, and may I help you.
One.
In the last post I mentioned being the change you want to see in the world. A friend of mine is on the verge of falling in love, and the lucky gentleman is coming to visit her. Her apartment is in an interesting state of flux. She has new sheets, but they're still in the box. Framed paintings, but they're sitting on the floor. I felt with great certainty that her home should be beautiful and finished, now. It was hard to tell her that, because I felt like it was none of my business. I offered to paint, then to put together a party where all her friends got together and finished her apartment in one day. She said it was the nicest thing ever. I said, no, it's not. It's friendship. And she said, no, it's love. So of course I'll do it. People have done these things for me, and of course I'll do these things for them. It will be wonderful. It will be unusual. It will be joyful. It will be people painting a house and putting up shelves so our friend can open the door, perhaps, to the love of her life, and be ready. And who knows what will come next as a result. It is worth mentioning that this is the same friend who has given me free office space, and put me in touch with the company that gave me my new and fabulous job. So of course I'll do it, and so happily.
Two.
I get very frustrated by Hollywood and the media (and sometimes by blogs) because it can feel like I have no control over whose personality I have to deal with every day, even though I don't know these people. If Britney Spears had keys to my apartment, I'd have my locks changed and call the cops. I'd also call her mother and delicately suggest rehab and a psych consult, because to my relatively uniformed eye, she looks like a drug addict self-medicating for any number of psychological conditions.
So now Heath Ledger is dead. Talented, young, and apparently a drug addict. That really sucks. What sucks more, and sucks every time I hear about a young and talented person injecting themselves into the hereafter, is that they died before they got the help they needed. And what sucks when I hear about musicians in their 50s who did drugs for 30 years suddenly dying of cancer or heart failure or what have you, nobody actually says, hmmm, maybe the drugs wore out your body and your ability to fight off disease.
I have great sympathy for anyone with a drug or alcohol problem, whether they are able to help themselves or not. I have deep problems with the media for publicizing the 'wacky' or 'car-wreck' behavior of people who are clearly addicts and need help. And I have deep problems with partiers and sychophants who create and maintain a sick environment, who don't do everything they can to help a known addict.
May you all be surrounded by friends who want the best for you and will do what they can to make your life the best. May you all be those kind of friends. May you help me, and may I help you.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Be The Change You Want to See in the World
I believe that one is Mahatma Ghandi. Another wonderful quote is right on this site -- "My life is my message." So what is the message of your life?
Life is getting very hectic -- job changes, work environment changes, all of which I'll be able to talk about more in the New Year. I also have an idea for a new blog that I'm very excited about, but don't know if I'll be able to sustain both. I am officially taking myself out of the pressure situation of blogging here every day, although I do want to write here as often as possible.
Little proofs of the good that comes from connecting and asking for what you need have been everywhere in my life lately. It makes me wonder, who is asking for what I need? And is it working?
More soon.
Life is getting very hectic -- job changes, work environment changes, all of which I'll be able to talk about more in the New Year. I also have an idea for a new blog that I'm very excited about, but don't know if I'll be able to sustain both. I am officially taking myself out of the pressure situation of blogging here every day, although I do want to write here as often as possible.
Little proofs of the good that comes from connecting and asking for what you need have been everywhere in my life lately. It makes me wonder, who is asking for what I need? And is it working?
More soon.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The (Overwrought, Overdiscussed) Butterfly Effect
Since we're nearing the end of the year I thought I'd go back over these posts and see how things have transpired since I picked up the megaphone of this blog and started shouting into the dark heavens.
I took another look at post#1, Universe Please Help Me Find A Name for This Blog (with apologies to RG who made it very clear he never again wants to read about just what Judy Blume helped me find. I owe him a nice, calming post about baseball.)
What struck me most is that I had totally forgotten the incident in the bar that had led me to start blogging in the first place. Some strangers told me a couple of small stories and nudged me in another direction, one I wanted to go in but just didn't have the map to. And if it hadn't been recorded here, I'd have forgotten all about it.
A good friend of mine recently went through a bad breakup. She said a story I'd told her ten years ago about my breakup with my first love helped her, as did other stories she'd heard about breakups. This was her first real breakup with a longtime love. She said having no experience at this, all these stories prepared her, and she leaned on them, thinking about how her friends had felt and how they'd gotten though it, and it helped her follow a path that others had already walked.
I guess what I'm learning is that life is not a series of big dramatic moments. It's a constant weaving of thousands of threads. You're weaving other people's lives without even knowing it.
The love I have for Owen, my friend who died years ago, still reverberates even though he's not here to tease me about it. After a very bad recent day, when I only saw my badness and all the reasons why the couple of people I know are angry with me right now absolutely should be, and I said "I don't think I can handle this pain anymore," well, there he was. I came home from my evening class and sitting in the lobby of my building were a few true-crime novels. (One of the things I've come to love about my building is the neighbors leave books and magazines for eachother). At the top was Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Owen's favorite contemporary book and one I've never read. I'm reading it. And all the things I loved about him -- his humor, his warmth, his sense of the absurd and of the good -- are still right here in the world and even in this book with its strange blend of lurid and lovable. And of course I can take any pain there is to be doled out.
I took another look at post#1, Universe Please Help Me Find A Name for This Blog (with apologies to RG who made it very clear he never again wants to read about just what Judy Blume helped me find. I owe him a nice, calming post about baseball.)
What struck me most is that I had totally forgotten the incident in the bar that had led me to start blogging in the first place. Some strangers told me a couple of small stories and nudged me in another direction, one I wanted to go in but just didn't have the map to. And if it hadn't been recorded here, I'd have forgotten all about it.
A good friend of mine recently went through a bad breakup. She said a story I'd told her ten years ago about my breakup with my first love helped her, as did other stories she'd heard about breakups. This was her first real breakup with a longtime love. She said having no experience at this, all these stories prepared her, and she leaned on them, thinking about how her friends had felt and how they'd gotten though it, and it helped her follow a path that others had already walked.
I guess what I'm learning is that life is not a series of big dramatic moments. It's a constant weaving of thousands of threads. You're weaving other people's lives without even knowing it.
The love I have for Owen, my friend who died years ago, still reverberates even though he's not here to tease me about it. After a very bad recent day, when I only saw my badness and all the reasons why the couple of people I know are angry with me right now absolutely should be, and I said "I don't think I can handle this pain anymore," well, there he was. I came home from my evening class and sitting in the lobby of my building were a few true-crime novels. (One of the things I've come to love about my building is the neighbors leave books and magazines for eachother). At the top was Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Owen's favorite contemporary book and one I've never read. I'm reading it. And all the things I loved about him -- his humor, his warmth, his sense of the absurd and of the good -- are still right here in the world and even in this book with its strange blend of lurid and lovable. And of course I can take any pain there is to be doled out.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Newsflash -- God Hates Knowledge!
Or, when you look into the atheist, the atheist looks also into you.
Obviously this website does not reflect the beliefs of most Christians or even Evangelicals. And obviously I have to stop reading it. Like now. But I can't, Yahweh-dammit, I can't.
From www.needgod.com (which, by the way, you wind up at with the same types of web searches that seem to lead people here, poor souls.) Italics are mine. Here's how to read them. Picture me screeching with laughter whenever you see italics.
<< 10.If you know the Lord, nothing will shake your faith. It is true that the man with an experience is not at the mercy of a man with an argument. Take for example a little boy who is looking at a heater. His father warns him that it's hot. The child says, "O.K. I believe it's hot." At that point, he has an intellectual belief that the heater is hot. When his Dad leaves the room, he says, "I wonder if it really is hot?" He then reaches out his little hand and grabs the heater bar with his fingers. The second his flesh burns he stops believing the heater is hot. (Note -- No shit! He also stops believing he's the best judge of what's hot and starts thinking he should have listened to his dad.) He now knows it's hot! He has moved out of the realm of "faith" into the realm of "experience."
As for the atheists, I love this logic. It means that not only do I regularly speak to people who don't exist -- including, paradoxically, my son's godfather, love that -- but that the few atheists I can't stand never existed in the first place, and if they do ever want to exist, they'll have to promptly go burn the crap out of their hands on some of God's love.
Obviously this website does not reflect the beliefs of most Christians or even Evangelicals. And obviously I have to stop reading it. Like now. But I can't, Yahweh-dammit, I can't.
From www.needgod.com (which, by the way, you wind up at with the same types of web searches that seem to lead people here, poor souls.) Italics are mine. Here's how to read them. Picture me screeching with laughter whenever you see italics.
<< 10.If you know the Lord, nothing will shake your faith. It is true that the man with an experience is not at the mercy of a man with an argument. Take for example a little boy who is looking at a heater. His father warns him that it's hot. The child says, "O.K. I believe it's hot." At that point, he has an intellectual belief that the heater is hot. When his Dad leaves the room, he says, "I wonder if it really is hot?" He then reaches out his little hand and grabs the heater bar with his fingers. The second his flesh burns he stops believing the heater is hot. (Note -- No shit! He also stops believing he's the best judge of what's hot and starts thinking he should have listened to his dad.) He now knows it's hot! He has moved out of the realm of "faith" into the realm of "experience."
In comes a heater expert and says, "Son, I have a B.A. in the study of heat. The heater is definitely not hot. I can prove it to you." The child would probably say, "Mr Expert, I don't care how many B.A.'s you have. I know that heater is hot -- I touched it! I'm not in the realm of belief, I'm in the realm of experience. (Note -- Don't kids just say the darndest things?) Goodbye."
If you have touched the heater bar of God's love and forgiveness, if the Holy Spirit has "born witness" that you are a child of God (Romans 8:16), if you have received the Gospel with "power, the Holy Ghost and much assurance" (1 Thessalonians 1:5), you will never be shaken by a skeptic.
When cults tell you that you must acknowledge God's name to be saved, that you must worship on a certain day that you must be baptized by an elder of their church, don't panic. Merely go back to the Instruction Manual. The Bible has all the answers, and searching them out, will make you grow.
If you feel intimidated by atheists -- if you think they are "intellectuals," read the book, God Doesn't Believe in Atheists. It will show you that they are the opposite. It will also instruct you on how you can prove God's existence, and also prove that the "atheist" doesn't exist.>>
I'd much rather eat the pasta of God's love and forgiveness, or maybe knock back the sidecar on the rocks of God's love and forgiveness. I don't want to BURN THE CRAP OUT OF MY HANDS on God's love and forgiveness.As for the atheists, I love this logic. It means that not only do I regularly speak to people who don't exist -- including, paradoxically, my son's godfather, love that -- but that the few atheists I can't stand never existed in the first place, and if they do ever want to exist, they'll have to promptly go burn the crap out of their hands on some of God's love.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Last Minute Save
At this very moment, as I was about to say I had nothing to write about, our friend who has been waiting for her green card for 6 YEARS just called to say it was in the mail as of yesterday. She is now legal.
We've been asking the universe for this for a good long time now, so many thanks to the universe for helping a very deserving person take the next steps toward a productive and wonderful life.
Strangely, my husband just called her yesterday, and there has been a long-standing tradition of her getting some news on the progress of her green card within minutes or hours of speaking to us. She says we're her good luck charm. I'm very happy to be that for someone.
We've been asking the universe for this for a good long time now, so many thanks to the universe for helping a very deserving person take the next steps toward a productive and wonderful life.
Strangely, my husband just called her yesterday, and there has been a long-standing tradition of her getting some news on the progress of her green card within minutes or hours of speaking to us. She says we're her good luck charm. I'm very happy to be that for someone.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
File Under -- Please help the people of New Orleans
And I'm sure most people reading this have asked for that over the last three years.
I've been struggling with the idea of holiday gifts this year, for myself and for others. My kid doesn't really need the metric ton of toys he is going to get and the people I work with really don't need another -- MILKFAT SPOILER ALERT -- Junior's Cheesecake .
We finally finshed our lists last night, but what I really want is to get someone in New Orleans a hot water heater. And it looks like I can.
This awesome-seeming organization, Make It Right NOLA, (hat tip to the New York Times)spearheaded by Hottie McHottie Pants -- er, Brad Pitt, which means Hottie McHottie pants in at least 8 languages -- and a group of eco-conscious architects, is working to help rebuild the Ninth Ward with 150 sustainable homes. You can apparently pick something specific to donate, like a hot water heater or a tree.
So, Mom, because I know you read this, let's talk about making small donations to eachother's charities of choice, along with the 707 stuffed with Muppet paraphenalia that I know is due your grandson, or He Who Flies Around The Room On Golden Angel Wings, and Never Does Anything Irksome At All, at least, Not In Front of Grandma. It would be a nice lesson in giving for He Who Flies, and it might be a nice new family tradition.
And by the way, Brad Pitt, well played, but you are totally stealing my husband's look. Knock it off.
I've been struggling with the idea of holiday gifts this year, for myself and for others. My kid doesn't really need the metric ton of toys he is going to get and the people I work with really don't need another -- MILKFAT SPOILER ALERT -- Junior's Cheesecake .
We finally finshed our lists last night, but what I really want is to get someone in New Orleans a hot water heater. And it looks like I can.
This awesome-seeming organization, Make It Right NOLA, (hat tip to the New York Times)spearheaded by Hottie McHottie Pants -- er, Brad Pitt, which means Hottie McHottie pants in at least 8 languages -- and a group of eco-conscious architects, is working to help rebuild the Ninth Ward with 150 sustainable homes. You can apparently pick something specific to donate, like a hot water heater or a tree.
So, Mom, because I know you read this, let's talk about making small donations to eachother's charities of choice, along with the 707 stuffed with Muppet paraphenalia that I know is due your grandson, or He Who Flies Around The Room On Golden Angel Wings, and Never Does Anything Irksome At All, at least, Not In Front of Grandma. It would be a nice lesson in giving for He Who Flies, and it might be a nice new family tradition.
And by the way, Brad Pitt, well played, but you are totally stealing my husband's look. Knock it off.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
God, Me, Same Diff
On the way home on the train yesterday afternoon I saw a little girl get the absolute crap slapped out of her by her mother. I went to tell a cop and the train pulled away. I found myself praying to the universe, actually, to God-- stop being so stupid, get off your ass, God, and help that little girl.
God, me, same difference.
When I get back from vacation, I'm going to start here and find out how I can best volunteer. Nothing upsets me more than children being harmed by the people who are supposed to be taking care of them. Freud and tribal myths agree -- 0-5 is what forms the self, and 0-5 is where so much damage is done.
God, me, same difference.
When I get back from vacation, I'm going to start here and find out how I can best volunteer. Nothing upsets me more than children being harmed by the people who are supposed to be taking care of them. Freud and tribal myths agree -- 0-5 is what forms the self, and 0-5 is where so much damage is done.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The URL for God
Apparently quite a few people stumble across this site by typing "God, please help me" into a search engine. I work in the tech industry, so I can't help but wonder if this is one area where vertical search of domain names owned and operated by actual gods might be helpful. Google just sends these poor people to a snarky woman from Brooklyn, that being me.
I tried it last night myself to see what other snarky people came up, and lo and behold, God has a website. And one of the many faces of God, as I've suspected ALL ALONG, is former Smiths frontman and the godfather of shoegazing pop, if not the patent holder of teenage angst, Morrissey. You can also pray to Oprah, as most of America already does.
http://www.deargodpleasehelpme.com/
You can click on a web interface button to pray for these people. God has disabled comments. That's SO like him.
I tried it last night myself to see what other snarky people came up, and lo and behold, God has a website. And one of the many faces of God, as I've suspected ALL ALONG, is former Smiths frontman and the godfather of shoegazing pop, if not the patent holder of teenage angst, Morrissey. You can also pray to Oprah, as most of America already does.
http://www.deargodpleasehelpme.com/
You can click on a web interface button to pray for these people. God has disabled comments. That's SO like him.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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.
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.
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