About the Oneness of Mankind

Full moon be damned, here I am planning and building on active visions… while I fold laundry, have coffee and train the pups at my feet to feel free to go, but welcome to stay.

In my last published post, I mentioned being in the market for a digital camera after tossing my iphone in the wash w/ the towels. Coincidentally, I am writing this post on my laptop on top of a stack of folded hoodies on top of the washing machine in which the towels are ready to move on in their cycle to the dryer. Pleased to say I do not believe any electronics will come up in the wash.

The room is warm, it is raining outside and I have chosen this moment to baseline myself in Frozen Spaghetti.

sidenote: If you search Frozen Spaghetti, do you get a page or two of recipes, questions about freezing spaghetti, etc?

The idea of being a human in this world, as I understand it, is to be recognized as a specific gift because you have the ability to be spiritual, have a consciousness. The more I have worked at this idea, I realize the grass is greener. I look at the spirituality of waves and or consciousness of trees and roots and I get a little smile… that sure does look nice.

At the present moment, I am planning a little open house for my sister’s birthday which is this Thursday. The home feels good, been doing about 20 – 30 minutes of wipe down, dishes, touch ups as I move through it. The whiteboards are clean and updated. There is a fresh batch of lentil chowder in the fridge and ingredients for hummus in the cabinet… soon to be on the counter…

My experience of being home and my experience of being “a Martha” (to be Christian about it) really brings out my deep motivation to belong and to please / welcome / create to invite others to belong. My core wants you to be safe and comfortable near me so that I can be by you.

And, that is where my life comes together. I retired from corporate life because I was no longer safe where I was. I did not like my humor, my ego’s active protective self. I did not like how I was becoming critical, suspicious, etc of others. I was somewhere, for a long time, and I had not grown in 4 years.. almost 5… no real markers of my creativity in flight, making the world a better place. The reason I stayed for all that time was the platform: that company was access to make the world a better place for hundreds… thousands… millions of people. The suppliers, the riders, the drivers, the people – the world around me was changing and requiring new things with COVID and I was absolutely ready to go.

Let’s make the world better.

And – trust me – I was shocked when the cruise ship of my life actually called my purpose forward. A 7th grader failing science… a 15 year old learning to drive… three new child souls in the household… two new cats… one husband, my marriage. Me.

In the change I have undergone in the past year, I am so confident. Not only in that it is never really necessary to try and explain these things.

Not only in my creativity, ability to listen, and my genuine ideas for humanity.

But in my present moments… as they come… because my actions are lining up to my intentions… my awareness of myself is making my each choice OK with me. I am trusting myself more, these days – even in the things I thought were failures, mistakes or shameful parts of myself in the past.

Maybe this will come out in a Netflix series, my sitcom, or my screenplay. My fiction may tell this story or my children’s rhymes.

But – no matter what – it will come out because it has to as living true to my self and all there forementioned is in fact a purpose. A simple one to follow, at minimum. Anything else requires more answers to questions that don’t matter to my laundry.. to my coffee.. to my dogs.

And to these here towels…

these are the days of my life. :)

<cue Imagine by John Lennon>

happy tuesday, ya’ll. erin

Opening Up About 16 Years

My box from Enterprise came today. The little pieces of my years at work collected in one pretty heavy cube shaped box. Acquisitions, certifications, jobs thrown for, people managed, gifts received, business cards saved, nail polish once loved but probably not good anymore.

Fun little boxes with pictures of my daughters speckled along my favorites of all the notebooks: my dreams, my ideal jobs, my pitches, my love for people – customers – my hopes to be an adopted Taylor.

Somewhere in that box is a review or two from Kristi… beloved mentor, manager and friend.

I think one of the things that hurts is the outpouring of support and recognition I received for being “one of the brightest” and yet seeing the notes and business plans for two… three of those “bigger jobs” I threw for. Business Plans that stole time from my 4 year old, 6 year old then 8 year old, 10 year old to go for it, to demonstrate it: be a boss, get on that path to the VP gig. Bringing my family to work parties where there are rides, BBQs, fountains and sunshine.

For the ball games and hockey games with work people who are your people; adorned with family-esque loyalty and trust.

Needless to say: I did not get those jobs.

I evolved in my role, I out performed it, I grew tired… a little bored… then I got married and, with that, got a vision of a garden and family. The corporate ideas once had felt minor compared to the ideas for the house in the Pacific Northwest, the Webster studio, the music… the music… the music. Winning a Grammy more obtainable than a Director level job. “Let’s get this one life”, David and I thought.

Back to this morning. I continued through the box and came across my portfolio and feel this immense pride.

…in my Visio skills… in my practical way of laying things out… in my ability to communicate what matters.

As I manage this household and balance ideas of task orientation (dishes / laundry), personal progress and performance (teens / sports / school), communication and administration of feedback (all of our emotional / social growth) with this idea of compassionate rebounding (the spiritual unfolding), team work (blending family) and ongoing support and love (because hashtag you got one life. love your neighbor) I realize – should I ever return to the corporate world – my resume will be stocked with more than sufficient quality personnel leadership experience.

5 Human Beings.

Under jurisdiction in which I am a main influencer.

How much more satisfying will my thriving other worldly bubble be than a realized daydream of afternoon sunlight pouring into an executive office on Corporate Park drive? We will see.

With the right song and mindset I think maybe I could have it all, you know? But – right now I guess I just want the one next, best thing:

an established rhythm so I can work on my book(s).

Okay. That felt good to write. Love you all.

“from the help” @ study, saint louis, foggy day

Parents traditionally delight in their children taking their first steps, demolishing their baby size birthday cakes, dressed up in a costume… a bow… a little baby tux.

As a mother, I know the feeling of delight when I am delighting in my children. I have actively stayed still in present moments to strictly observe whatever they are doing – watching the game they came into on their own, watching their slow waking moments, watching them watching something all on their own.

Matter of fact, this ties into an early intention I set for things like outings to the zoo: let them sit as long as they wish. It doesn’t matter to me how much ground we cover, we can sit in front of the hippos, we can camp out in the birdhouse. Dwell. Delight.

This made for many childhood younger year memories but also, last year, when my 13 year old stepdaughter came to live in St. Louis for 6 weeks in the fall. Prior to the official move, the marriage; David and I let her give it a shot. I took her to the zoo and was mesmerized by how long she could sit, watching… observing. So I, too, sat… watched… observed.

I remember one time I delighted in Ellen; a time so uniquely unconventional for typical delighting that it was formative to my way of parenting. I was sitting on the couch, she was playing on the floor – maybe 2 1/2 or 3 years old. She got up from where she was playing, walked to the end table, grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose.

I cocked my head, squinted and smiled. Did she just get up from playing, aware of a tickle in her nose, know to get a tissue, get one and care for herself? Did she help herself become more comfortable? Surely, she was aware of herself.

Fast forward five years later, she is 7 or 8 and her parents are divorced. I moved out into a small apartment and – though I was experiencing a tremendous amount of relief and freedom in my life – I was naturally processing grief, specifically in relationship to the loss my children took in the break up and the definitions that were shifting for them.

There was one night I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was a peachy-pink tiled bathroom with a big deep tub, stained glass window and warm lighting over a big huge vanity mirror. On the counter was my toothbrush, resting on a fold of toilet paper with toothpaste on it. Next to it was a note, “From the help of Ellen”.

From the help of Ellen.

My heart, to this day, flutters when I think about this – this concept of each of us having a reservoir of help. Bounty of help, reserves of help, to offer ourselves and to offer others in this world; specifically those we are doing life with.

I think about her early demonstration of helping herself with her runny nose. I imagine a tank of help, swirling with awareness, from which she took a small withdrawal and then the experience of being cared for depositing more back in. Likewise, that night, kissing her sleeping soft cheeks – I deposited back into her tank.

I wonder about this concept a lot. That we have help (noun) instead of we help (verb). When we live in a way where giving is the action and the helping, the hoping stop and instead we have help to give, we have hope to give – does this shift the way we feel? Does it impact the way we consider ourselves able?

It’s a foggy grey day today and I have a few things to button up before starting up some work at 1p. I am curious if this thinking feels different to anybody out there. That’s all for now :) namaste…. erin