What We See

 

 

                      "What we see depends mainly on what we look for." ~ John Lubbock

I use this Lubbock quote often, and I wholeheartedly believe it is at the root of all manifestation. What are you giving your attention to? Do you expect miracles, or do you assume they happen to everyone else, never you?

I seek love, not the romantic kind, rather the kind that is found in grocery store lines, on the highways, daily on Facebook and in social media. I do not watch the news, I do not seek out the gore and desperate tidings online or in the newspapers. I will scroll right past your post if you're whining again about your cheating husband. I am not blind either; I know such miseries exist. I simply choose to focus on the things, the experiences, the happenings, that I wish to see more of. Generosity. Abundance. Kindness. 

I once dated (literally, once) a man who kept a machete under the seat on the passenger's side of his truck. I'd been groping around for my misplaced cellphone when I came upon it.

"Why do you have a machete in your truck?" I asked.
"Just in case," he answered.
"In case of what?" I pressed.
"In case someone tries to mess with me," he countered.

I had just returned from my first solo cross country road trip---9000 miles in 30 days---and not once did anyone mess with me, not at the pumps, not checking into my rooms for the night, not on the long, sometimes barren and desolate highways. I went out into the world expecting safety, seeking connection, deliriously in love with life, and not once did calamity visit me. Perhaps there are two types of people in the world: people who look for, and generally find, trouble, and people who have faith and hail mankind as benevolent.

Maybe one day, someone, something, will prove my theory wrong, but in the meantime, I'll go on believing in love because when I lead with that, all things are possible. 

Check out: https://tinybuddha.com/blog/look-for-the-good-and-you-will-find-it/

It's Your Life

"It's your life. Stop waiting for someone else to show up with the key." ~Carol Mossa

A few years ago, it occurred to me, in a stunning and humbling moment of clarity, that I was waiting for someone else to show up with the key to my life.

As a single woman, I was seeking a partner with a big life. In my mind, big life was not necessarily synonymous with big money, big house, or big car. Big life meant that I wanted a partner whose life was filled with passion, purpose, meaning, and depth. I wanted to be transformed, and carried from my own so-so life, into someone else's purpose-driven life. What the Universe provided me with, however, was an opportunity to experience, and utilize, my own sense of lack as a vehicle for transformation. In short, so long as I sought, outside of myself, that for which I desired, I would continue to attract that missing piece in others. And while I never thought of myself as a woman seeking rescue, that moment of clarity was a game changer. I discovered that in order to find people who led deeply passionate and purposeful lives, I had to become a vibrational match.

The Universe wasted no time delivering direction. Almost instantly, I was given an opportunity to attend a class at the Rhode Island School of Design, aptly called, "Become the Art Director of Your Own Life." From the first class, I began a process that continues to this day, of creating my own big, rich, passionate, purposeful, meaningful life. And lo and behold, now that I have taken responsibility for that creation, now that I am an energetic match to all that I seek, I no longer have to look outside of myself for the key.

Check out: https://bit.ly/3LOYu0L

Meditation: Simply Notice

“Meditation is not about feeling a certain way. It's about feeling the way you feel.” ~Dan Harris

Volumes have been written trumpeting the practical benefits of meditation, yet all too often I hear, "I can't do it. I can't quiet my mind. It doesn't work for me." As a certified meditation teacher, I believe that somewhere along the spiritual continuum, a lot of folks missed the point.

I don't practice to relax. I don't practice to quiet my mind. I don't practice to become a better meditator. I practice to notice. I practice to let go, without attachment, without judgement. If you're waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect mood, the perfect cushion, clothing, music, incense, CD, you are cheating yourself out of one of the most useful tools in our wellness arsenal. 

Try this. Find a spot to sit undisturbed for a few minutes---start slow. Get comfortable. Set your timer. Close your eyes. Breathe. When the siren outside screams past, notice (don't curse), the sound. When the cat jumps into your lap, notice the sensation. When your mind revisits the argument you had with your partner last night, notice the thought. Don't judge sounds, sensations, thoughts. Don't get mad at your mind for dragging you into the past, racing you into the future. Notice, then let go, detach. Stay. Breathe. Repeat, and then repeat the process again tomorrow, and the day after that.

You can't do this wrong. You can only not do it, and in not meditating, you are depriving yourself of learning to coexist peacefully with the world around you. Practically speaking, this means, the next time another driver cuts you off in traffic, notice, do not attach, do not react. Instead of railing against a co-worker's procrastination to complete a needed task, notice your resistance, your frustration, and in that moment of noticing, choose, without malice, without judgement, the higher thought. 

Notice. Simply notice.

Check out: https://psychcentral.com/health/meditation-for-beginners#health-benefits

Dance

 

“She remembered who she was and the game changed.”―Lalah Delia

As the weather here in southern Rhode Island warms up, I find myself in a position to attend those events where my tribe routinely gathers. Recently that place was a lovely picnic spot overlooking the East Bay. I stopped at the market, picked up a few dozen pieces of sushi to take along, and away I went. Alone. It never occurred to me to seek out another to go to the picnic with. However, while I was navigating the crowd, making small talk, answering questions about my work, I overheard some women talking about being happy to have another to go with because left to their own devices, they never would have attended alone. 

I understand the need to show up with a friend in tow, someone to break the ice with, but take it from someone who has walked into plenty of rooms full of strangers alone over the years---it's a worthy pursuit. Cast aside your fear. Hold your head up and walk bravely into that gathering. Smile. Find a friendly person or group of people and walk up and put your hand out. Say your name. Listen when others give you theirs. Ask questions. Recognize that it's human nature to feel awkward, maybe even a little intimidated, but lots of folks feel that way initially. You are not alone.

I was listening to my favorite songwriter/musician, Jackson Browne, earlier. In For a Dancer, Browne sings, "Just do the steps that you've been shown, by everyone you've ever known, until the dance becomes your very own, no matter how close to yours another's steps have grown. In the end there is one dance you'll do alone." Let's all stop hiding behind our partners, friends, family, and move bravely into the world. I can't get to know you if you're sitting home afraid to come out and play. Quite frankly, if I waited for a mate or a fellow traveler to experience life with, I'd be missing out on a whole lot of cool people, places, and things. I don't know about you, but life is way too short to sit this dance out. When I hear the music, the chorus, I am going to dance, with or without a partner in tow.

Enjoy some vintage Jackson Browne! https://bit.ly/3p4mB3Q

Treasure

"The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek." ~Joseph Campbell

What frightens you? What thoughts keep you awake at night? If the earth is our schoolroom, and mastering love and banishing fear is the curriculum, what grade would you give yourself? 

Over the last decade, I have done the hard work on myself. I have excavated buried trauma and come to terms with my part in the painful memories. In short, I have become the best version of myself thus far, but make no mistake, I still have a cave to enter, explore, to make peace with. For me that cave represents financial insecurity, but why? I own my own mortgage-free home, drive a car without monthly payments, live debt-free, and have safe, long-term investments and holdings. Those family-of-origin tapes are difficult to silence, to mute. I was born into a lower middle-class Connecticut family. My father, a roofer all his life, went off to work every day, but at quitting time could be found throwing beers back at my uncle's bar across town. My mom often worked a factory night job to fill the gap left by my father's alcoholism. While we always had clean clothes and food on the table, I recall an ever-present sense of lack, an undulating fear. 

When I left home for a state college (financed by my own student loans because my parents failed to plan for my higher education), my head and heart were filled with a fierce determination to do better than my parents, and I did. I got great jobs, married, bought luxury property, and I often sent money and gifts home to my mom. When my marriage ended, I made the decision to navigate life solo, and I have remained single-by-choice. It's just me, and I am wholly responsible for my own financial health and well-being. I long ago rejected a 9-5 existence, choosing instead the life and path of a solopreneur. 

That cave of financial insecurity is an illusion. Financially, I have nothing to fear. It's when those demons come knocking in the middle of the night, whispering that I will run out of money before I run out of time on this planet, that my tender heart wants to seize. Instead of hiding, I can look those demons squarely in the eye, throw my head back, laugh, and say, "not today, fear!" 

Check out: https://www.realsimple.com/work-life/money/signs-of-financial-trauma

Gifted

 

Everyone is gifted, but some people never open their package. ~Wolfgang Riebe

My 90-year-old mother told me that I attended creative writing classes after school when I was a young girl. I have no recollection of such classes, instructions, or assignments. I do know that writing has always come second nature to me. Whether a term paper for school, a thesis for graduate school, a short story, a poem, or a marketing piece, I was in my element if wordsmithing was involved.

I became an English major in college because I liked to read and I could write, and I had no interest in nursing. Where I came from, those were the two career options most young women pursued. I was an art minor in college with a concentration in photography. I penned two books of informational nonfiction during the ten years I was not drinking alcohol (between 1989 and 1999), was a columnist for a national trade magazine for two years, earned a Master of Fine Arts degree, and did all kinds of creative things. The minute I picked up a drink in 2000, I ceased to write another word, and the camera got buried behind some cardboard boxes in a closet under the stairs. Once I got sober, it took five years to remember that I was an artist and had God-given talents.

One fall, I got to spend a month in Arizona in this blue chair with the light streaming in, writing, and crafting another book. I don't know many of you who are reading this today, but I will tell you one thing: I am not unique. You, too, have been given gifts, talents, and skills that the world needs. What are they? What's holding you back from following your heart's desire? Fear? Of what? Failure? That you're not good enough? Trust me when I tell you, you are brilliant. You are a beacon. How dare you not shine?

Check out: https://www.roamandgolightly.com/blog/we-are-all-creative

Begin. Now.

There is no beginning too small. ~Henry David Thoreau

In The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness, Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron, tells us to, "Come as you are." Often, I resist stepping out of my comfort zone unless I can be sure I have it right, until I can be confident that I'll be a master at whatever new endeavor I am attempting. But I've learned in recovery to just show up and start wherever I am. The magic is in the moment, and in that moment, I can choose to be fully alive and present. Fear holds me back from experiencing all that this life has to offer. Fear of failure. Fear of imperfection. Fear that you won't like me if you find out how truly inept I am.

Nowhere has that fear had a bigger hold on me than in my personal relationships. I never knew how to make friends. I was so sure you weren't going to like me that I went out of my way to make sure you didn't. Once I became willing to remove the chip on my shoulder, and practice being friendly, I gained a boatload of friends. If I hadn't been willing to bring my imperfect, often socially immature self to the table, I would have missed out completely on experiencing the fellowship of the spirit.

If I'm waiting, busily preparing my mind, my body, and my skill set, then those golden opportunities to be present in the world as the imperfect person I am, pass by. Last year, a good friend of mine helped me develop my Instagram account. She noticed my reluctance to commit to various suggested action steps in the process. Speaking from experience, she encouraged me to "Just do it. Do something. You can always change it." Essentially, she told me to just "Come as you are." Start somewhere. Take this blog, for example. Upon launching it a year ago, I didn't understand all the nuances, but the point is, today, I am willing to come to the page just as I am. Today, it's not about being perfect, it's about being present.  

Check out “Nine Joys of Being Imperfect” at http://bit.ly/3zMPGTr

Good News

Tired Arguments From Congress After Rampage.

Israel in Turmoil Over Controversial Netanyahu Move.

Fear Pervades Trans Community Amid Focus on Nashville Shooter's Gender Identity.

These were the headlines I read when I signed on to receive my email on the last Friday in March. If those messages weren't enough to sink my tender, open heart, a pop-up warning appeared, uninvited, on my laptop screen.

Every 2 seconds someone new becomes a victim of identity theft. Don't be next.

Fear. Destruction. Chaos. Geez, Louise, the whole world has, indeed, gone mad. I have a split second to respond to the toxicity of today's headlines, and so do you. Be honest, do you devour the blow-by-blow details? Do you bristle at my implication? If you are giving extended attention to these headlines, you are participating in the darkness, the madness. News is a big industry; it can't exist without your participation.

I get it. Good people become victims of random violence, but do you really need to read about, and watch, another vehicle, in the same week, plow into innocent bystanders? Here's what I fervently believe. We invite, absorb, and become what we put our attention on, and every minute counts. Do not waste a single one of your life's precise moments focusing on negativity. Have you ever had a strand of hair land on an exposed layer of your skin? You can feel it, right? A thin, lightweight piece of hair. Imagine that. Imagine then what dark and negative thoughts can do to you at a cellular level. Food for thought. (Check out medical intuitive, Caroline Myss, if you don't believe me. https://www.myss.com/about-caroline-myss/) What images, messages, and thoughts do you want your body, your cells, to absorb?

Choose the newsmakers who are genuinely making a difference. GoodNewsNetwork.org shared these headlines this morning.

Americans Are Taking More Small Steps to Create Positive Societal Change.

New Brain Implant Device Could Restore Function in Paralyzed Limbs.

Researchers Develop Water Treatment that Zaps ‘Forever Chemicals’ for Good.

These are some of the people and issues worthy of making headlines, and the more you focus on them, the more of them you will see. Dig deeper. Your body and world will thank you.

Check out: https://bit.ly/3JXBFH4

Authenticity: Your Superpower

Authenticity means to be the author of your own life. ~Tom Shadyac

There was a time, not that long ago, when my outside---those external things that the world recognized me for---my marriage, my residence, and my job, looked pretty impressive indeed. Successful, handsome, entrepreneurial husband. An award-winning, historically-restored homestead with a center chimney for Santa to slide down every December. A circular drive with a new luxury vehicle parked in it every year. Exotic vacations to faraway lands. Boxes of designer clothing that would arrive weekly on the backs of rumbling UPS trucks. Shoes. Lots and lots of shoes. (Ironic, considering that I've been a barefoot/sandal kinda girl all along.) A freeform, in-ground pool. Professionally landscaped and manicured acres. A potting shed with a wood stove hook-up. A second home in the mountains. Horses, barns, pastures, and a riding ring to rival any Olympic arena. All the trappings of an upper-middle-class, successful married life.

To any outsider looking in on the charmed world I actively built and inhabited, it looked like a modern-day fairy tale. But like the alcohol I used daily to self-medicate, self-will had run riot, and in reality, the stuff just created a bigger wall between me and God. My inside suffered mightily. My family imploded. My marriage failed. No amount of home improvement, world travel, and fancy parties was ever going to fill that God-shaped hole deep within my heart. Alcoholics Anonymous literature refers to us this way: "The alcoholic is like a tornado roaring his way through the lives of others. Hearts are broken. Sweet relationships are dead. Affections have been uprooted." For me, recovery didn't come because of the things I lost. Recovery came because I could no longer deny that my inside and outside worlds did not match.

Today, I bring my imperfect, spiritually evolving, and authentic self to every part of my life. What you see is what you get, folks. That smile on my face? The way I am willing to look you in the eye? My eagerness to engage with you, grab a coffee, and share heart-to-heart? Yup. It's the same honesty and openness I extend to newcomers, trusted friends, family members, clients, and here on the page. If you are willing to bring your authentic self to the table, I promise to bring mine. And if you can't, or won't, don't be surprised if I see through your outside to the inside waiting to be released and recognized.

Check out: https://positivepsychology.com/authentic-living/

Less is More

"Clutter forces the brain to consume energy. Create uncluttered environments instead." ~Carmine Gallo

I took my artist date on Wednesday this week. The IKEA store in Stoughton, Massachusetts is always a source of inspiration, and it's been a year since I visited. A friend and I used to drive up every few months to browse and feast on their famous Swedish meatballs. I felt drawn to immerse myself in a lifestyle I am passionate about---minimalism. If you know me, even virtually, then you know my mantra is, less is more. Less baggage, less stress, less attachment. More freedom, more connection, more memories. 

I've had the big house. I've had all the stuff. Over the years, I've lived in a 3,800-square-foot reproduction Colonial with four other family members, and I've enjoyed a second home in the White Mountains. Now, I live in a 750-square-foot vintage cottage with my sweet cat, Carla. My happiness could be due to several factors. I am single-by-choice (that means I'm not waiting for someone to show up with the key). I live debt-free. My three adult children lead lovely lives of their own and they often welcome me into their worlds. In short, I live an uncluttered life. Only the people, places, and things that I love occupy my time, my home, my life, and my world. 

I experienced a convergence of thoughts on my drive back to Rhode Island on Wednesday. With several IKEA room dimensions dancing around in my head (all under 500 square feet), I caught the tail-end of an NPR segment about the boom Amazon experienced during the global pandemic, as more and more people sought to fill their homes and empty hours. Finally, I drove by one of those metal storage facilities that people rent to store the stuff they don't have room for, and I flashed on our landfills chock full of waste. 

As a woman in long-term recovery, I have a pretty good understanding of addictions and the compulsions that drive them. My drug of choice was alcohol, but make no mistake, alcohol and drugs are just one distraction. People also use food, shopping, sex, gambling, and relationships to fill their despair, longing, and dissatisfaction. But the stuff just adds another layer between you and your higher self. 

I used to provide in-home massage therapy to a 90-year-old artist in her assisted living apartment. It was warm, cozy, and inviting. Upon moving in, Alice had selected memorabilia and furnishings that she loved most to decorate her new home. When she passed away I thought about her adult children dutifully cleaning out her apartment. She only left what she loved, and I hope that made her children's tasks easier and more poignant. 

The next time you feel you can't live without that new pair of shoes, plush home good, or fancy kitchen gadget, consider some quiet contemplation instead. Consider the possibility that now, and in the long run, less just might be more. 

http://bit.ly/3yQEjJw

Spiritual Deadheading

"Happiness does not come from the things that we have but the abandoning of things that we cling to, by letting go of the attachments to things we don't want." ~Kevin Griffin

My best friend in high school, Nancy, had a green thumb. Her house, and later her college apartments, were resplendent with all manner of hanging and potted plants. I particularly admired her ability to grow coleus---especially the big, bold, eye-catching, serrated varieties. Back in the 1970s, my alcoholism was gathering momentum, and I was more preoccupied with where my next drink was coming from than watering and maintaining houseplants. Nancy, on the other hand, had a knack for nurturing green things, and under her care, they flourished. Routinely, Nancy pinched off the purple buds protruding from the centers of the leaves. "What are you doing?" I wanted to know, fascinated and puzzled at the same time. She patiently explained deadheading to me. By definition, to deadhead means to remove a plant's spent flowers. To do so channels the energy away from seed production into further flower production.

Decades later, deadheading has become a metaphor for an important tool in my spiritual arsenal. I have learned (the hard way) that holding on to anything out of fear blocks wisdom and spiritual growth.  To grow I must be willing to relinquish the fear of "what if." If I quit this job, will I find another? If I end this relationship, will I find another?  If I move to a new community, will I make new friends? Being fearless today, I don't lament dead flowers. I don't mourn the people, places, and/or things that have had their glory and weren't meant to last. Like the coleus and other greenery flourishing in the windows of my cottage today, I must be willing to discard the old and await the new. Experience has taught me that with faith and courage, I can channel my energy into spiritual production instead of atrophy. What/who are you clinging to today? What seeds can you channel into flowers?

Check out: http://bit.ly/3FhTJud

When My Time Comes

 

What will you do today so tomorrow becomes the legacy you wanted to leave? ~Bill Jensen

As I write this week's column, my adult children are gathered in central Massachusetts for the funeral of my former husband's sister, their beloved aunt Laurie. One of my daughters and her husband have flown up from Florida. My son and his partner arrived yesterday from Missouri, and my oldest daughter, her husband, and three kids drove up from Rhode Island this morning. I'm home watching the rain pelt down, thinking about the requiem Mass, graveside service, and the bread family and friends will break later. At 61 years, gone too soon, is a woefully inadequate expression.

I'm on the outside looking in and thinking about the circle of life and death. Laurie and Gary married young and stayed that way for 45 years. Their teen marriage survived the test of time. They were rooted in the same community they were born into and there they remained to raise their own family of two boys and one girl. 

Today, I honor her commitment to her husband, family, and community. 

Fifteen years ago, I made a decision to address the alcoholism that had taken my heart hostage and was indeed pointing me toward an early grave. As a result of my recovery, each day intoxicates me, and I want more. I've made peace with the past, broken hearts, and lost opportunities. 

When my time comes, raise a glass, lift up your voices, and say simply, "Regrets, she had a few, but then again, too few to mention."Let’s all shift our gaze, and in the words of late musician Wayne Shorter, think of human death as a “time to go get a new body and come back to continue on this immense journey into the unknown.” 

Regrets? http://bit.ly/3ZIEO40http://bit.ly/3ZIEO40

Start Where You Are

"Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” ~Arthur Ashe

A long time ago, in what seems like another lifetime, I decided to start a clothing company. Aptly named after my firstborn daughter, Katherine's of Kingston, was supposed to be a custom collection of simple, whimsical, colorful dresses for toddlers and little girls designed and manufactured by me and a handful of University of Rhode Island textile majors.  Slam dunk, right?  Could of, should of, been.  What derailed my business plan was my inability to start. More specifically, my inability to start where I was. Married to a custom home builder at the time, I convinced him that I needed a bonafide sewing room, and he was only too happy to oblige. Needs were assessed. Measurements were taken. Blueprints were drawn up. Trim was fabricated. Colors were selected.

By the time dozens of cones of serger sewing machine threads were systematically color-coded and arranged in a custom built-in cabinet, I had already moved on to painting floorcloths, and the bolts of fabric I had stockpiled grew dusty and faded. Distractions diverted me from my primary purpose. Today, I know better.  Whether it's taking up a running practice, yoga, or photography, I can just show up as is. I don't need fancy shoes, mats, or the newest equipment.  All I truly need is an open heart and the willingness to be a beginner every day.

http://bit.ly/3kpgepB

Let's Talk About the "D" Word

“Death is not the opposite of life, it is a part of life. A part we’ve not yet explored and thus do not understand and it is only natural to fear what we do not understand. But with the right attitude, we can make life beautiful. With this same attitude, can death not be the same?” ~Unknown

Several sorrowful and inexplicable developments have occupied my mind this week. The seeming randomness and brevity of the human condition have pulled me up short and begged me to examine death. After a routine pediatrician visit, a classmate of my four-year-old granddaughter was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer; a sweet young mother in my circle discovered, after experiencing a series of seizures, that she has three inoperable brain tumors; and my former husband's baby sister entered hospice after a courageous years-long battle with esophageal cancer. And sitting here at my local coffee shop penning this column this morning, I am watching a middle-aged woman lean heavily on the arm of a gentleman as they make their way haltingly to the counter, surely in the advanced stages of some neurological disorder.

My heart is heavy, dear readers. 

But why? We’ll all transition. In grieving these tragedies, do I set myself somehow above and apart from the inevitability of my own demise, thinking, “Whew, glad it’s not me or my kids?”

Not yet.

At 68 years old, I have far less time in front of me than behind me. Have I made peace, come to terms with my mortality? I have a belief; I’m not sure I’d call it faith, but I have a view of the afterlife that sustains me. I’ve taken care of the business of drawing up a final will and testament, establishing health directives, and downsizing my home and belongings.

Still, all these maneuvers are cerebral, they’ve been undertaken at arm’s length, without the full embodiment, the complete readiness and acceptance of death. Let’s address the elephant in the room; let’s stop whispering about others’ dying and death and have full-bodied conversations about our own misgivings while we can. How I wish I’d had end-of-life discussions with my mom before she left us suddenly in 2016.

What would it take to view death through a lens of curiosity, to see it as a great adventure, the final frontier? When my time comes, I hope I can show up aware and prepared, with eyes wide open in wonder.

I’ve asked my Reiki master and dear friend, Caroline, to be part of the care team should I be lucky (?) enough to spend my final days on hospice. What’s something you can do today to reduce the discomfort, the fear, around death? Perhaps start here: http://bit.ly/3IytWQm

Here’s how some do it in Australia: http://bit.ly/3k8uG5g

 

Another Open Letter to Women Who Stalk

stalk: pursue or approach stealthily, shadow, track down, creep up on, go after

~Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Back on October 28, I wrote An Open Letter to a Woman Who Fawns (https://carolmossa.substack.com/p/an-open-letter-to-a-woman-who-fawns-fe9), calling out the insecurity so many women have around their relationships with men and their not so subtle messaging. On December 16, I wrote An Open Letter to Men Who Co-opt and Women Who Let Them (https://carolmossa.substack.com/p/an-open-letter-to-men-ceb), admonishing men for their tendencies to barrel into relationships without working on themselves first, thereby bringing us their unfinished emotional baggage.

Here I am again, calling out women, this time for their craven and opportunistic stalking of men. Perhaps stalk is too strong, too loaded, a word for the behavior I'm about to describe. You, dear readers, can replace it with something more to your liking, but based on the suggestions in the definition above, I'd say, I'm pretty on point. In today's current digital world, it's easy to pursue stealthily, shadow, track down, creep up on, and/or go after a romantic fantasy. I have watched in amusement, now revulsion, as several such fantasies have unfolded on social media. 

One woman I am acquainted with has patiently stalked her prey for several years. On Valentine’s Day, she showed up in my newsfeed, leaning in for a staged hug, having taken herself on a West Coast vacation that just happened to be within driving distance of this man's hometown. Subtle? Not very. Creepy? Yes. What kind of woman plans a vacation with the intention of surprising a man she's come to know casually on social media, popping in on him at his place of business? What would you say about that same man, if after a few years of digital messaging, he just happened to show up on your doorstep?

I was sixteen in 1970, and the only time it was socially acceptable to ask a boy out on a date was when the annual Sadie Hawkins dance rolled around. So maybe I'm biased, maybe I'm old-fashioned, but that's not what this aversion is about because, after all, what's good for the goose is good for the gander, right? But there is something entirely untoward and downright creepy about women who cozy up on social media with men they've friended---liking, loving, and commenting on their every post. It's because I am a feminist and believe in the rights of women, the strength of women and their right (and responsibility) to stand on their own two feet, to make their way in the world, that I cringe when I see women throwing themselves at men's feet. 

Why should I care? As a woman who has made her way in the world with no strings attached, I'm telling you that this behavior makes you—-women who stalk—-look pitifully weak, disempowered, desperate, and conniving. It's not cunning. It's not cute. It's creepy. Again, imagine if this man, or any man, pulled the same stunt. 

"Never go in search of love, go in search of life, and life will find you the love you seek." ~Atticus

There's a difference between being a woman who is in the flow, outgoing, free-spirited, and in love with life, and a woman who is a flagrant and obvious self-seeker. 

Ladies, stop, just stop! 

Food for thought: https://backtolovedoc.com/should-women-pursue-men-in-dating/

Fall in Love

“If you want love and abundance in your life, give it away.” — Mark Twain

I learned a lot about love last year. I learned that my love of self has to come first, that in order to find love, I have to give love. I learned that my love can't save anyone. No matter how much I love other sick and suffering people, I can't want their wellness more than they do.

I fell in love over and over again last year. I took several domestic road trips, and each time I checked in to a new room for the night, I fell in love. I fell in love with my hosts, their families; I fell in love with the people at meetings in halls, and church basements; I fell in love with the hills, valleys, mountains, oceans, and lakes of this great country.

And I fell even more deeply in love with myself, with my courage, my strength, my laugh, my heart, my mind, my God.

So, it matters little that I don't have one person in my life to love. I have three grown children and their partners, children and pups to love. I have hundreds of men and women all over the country to love, and they, blessedly, love me back. If you are in a relationship, love deeper. Dig in. Let go of your petty resentments. Something missing? Try providing it instead of waiting for it.

This Valentine's weekend, instead of sitting home, feeling sorry for yourself that a relationship ended or  crashed and burned on take-off,  pick up some carnations and greeting cards and donate them to the residents at a nursing home in your town.

Want love? Begin by giving it away. 

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Check out: http://bit.ly/3JEkxaW

Leading with Love

 

"What we see depends mainly on what we look for." ~ John Lubbock

I use this Lubbock quote often, and I wholeheartedly believe it is at the root of all manifestation. (Law of Attraction 101, if you will.) What are you giving your attention to? Do you expect miracles, or do you assume they happen to everyone else, never you?

I seek love, not the romantic kind, rather the kind that is found in grocery store lines, on the highways, daily on Facebook and in social media. I do not watch the news, I do not seek out the gore and desperate tidings online or in the newspapers. I will scroll right past your post if you're whining again about your cheating husband. I do not fixate on the latest virus or plague sweeping the county. I am not blind either; I know such horrors exist. I simply choose to focus on the things, the experiences, the happenings, that I wish to see more of. Generosity. Abundance. Kindness. It's probably why Halloween is my least favorite holiday. Given the headlines, it's disconcerting to see youngsters, and even grown men and women, carrying knife props, fake blood smeared across themselves. And please don't tell me I lack a sense of humor. 

I once dated (literally, once) a man who kept a machete under the seat on the passenger's side of his truck. I'd been groping around for my misplaced cellphone when I came upon it.

"Why do you have a machete in your truck?" I asked.
"Just in case," he answered.
"In case of what?" I pressed.
"In case someone tries to mess with me," he countered.

I had just returned from my first solo cross country road trip---9000 miles in 30 days---and not once did anyone mess with me, not at the pumps, not checking into my rooms for the night, not on the long, sometimes barren and desolate highways. I went out into the world expecting safety, seeking connection, deliriously in love with life, and not once did calamity visit me. Perhaps there are two types of people in the world: people who look for, and generally find, trouble, and people who have faith and hail mankind as benevolent.

Maybe one day, someone, something, will prove my theory wrong, but in the meantime, I'll go on believing in love because when I lead with that, all things are possible. Try it. If I'm wrong, I'll refund your misery.

Great article on this topic here: http://bit.ly/3RfaYB4

Regrets? I've Had a Few

My dad passed away peacefully in his sleep, in a nursing home, back in 2004.  Mr. Mossa's two favorite songs were "Sweet Caroline," by Neil Diamond, and "My Way," by Frank Sinatra. They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and I was my dad's daughter, through and through. I followed in his footsteps in oh, so many ways. Alcohol ravaged my father's early years and the missteps he made as a young man would haunt him into adulthood. As a child and young girl growing up in a dysfunctional home, I vowed I would never drink like my father. I didn't know what I didn't know, and in fact, my life mirrored my father's in myriad ways. The one difference, however, is that I found a solution. I discovered a spiritual remedy for what ailed me before it was too late. As a result, at 68 years of age, an age when many people are contemplating retirement and are slowing down, I am just getting started. I found purpose and passion in work that I love. I have connected with like-minded individuals around the globe, and together we are making a difference though our creative energies. I may not have it all, but I have my freedom, and I wouldn't trade it for the house on the hill, the luxury car in the driveway, or a five-star hotel.

Regrets? I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention. Check out this great article:

 https://bestlifeonline.com/most-common-regrets/

Are You a Renaissance Soul?

For many years, I beat myself up because I couldn't seem to concentrate, zero in on, be content with just one career path. I have, at various times been (and in some cases, continue to be) a teacher, a published author, a small business owner, a public speaker, a photographer, a floorcloth artist, a fashion designer, and a massage therapist. Whew! I used to experience great shame when my then-husband would lament, "Jeez, why can't you pick ONE?"

Why, indeed?

One day a few years ago, I picked up a book at the bookstore, The Renaissance Soul: Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One, by Margaret Lobenstine (see links below). Reading that book, I came to understand that I was not a lost cause. Far from it. I was a Renaissance woman with diverse interests, keen intelligence, wit, wisdom, vision, and more importantly, a zest for life! All of those interests, passions, and pursuits have brought me to the place where I am today. As founder of The Footloose Muse in Charlestown, RI, I am able to use all of these gifts to bring health and wellness to a community of people seeking a chance to explore, in safety, ALL of their interests, their passions. Through educational workshops, energy work, meditation, and other holistic alternatives, more and more people are discovering their own uniqueness, authenticity, and power.  

Everyone of us is gifted. Don't be afraid to unwrap your package.

https://renaissancesouls.com/about-us/

https://www.mindfueldaily.com/livewell/are-you-a-renaissance-soul/

https://www.writersdigest.com/general/are-you-a-renaissance-soul-use-it-to-your-advantage

Am I Your Cup of Tea?

It's time to balance the scale.

Since April 2022, I've been writing a Friday column here on Substack. Without fail and often within minutes of my weekly post, I receive messages from readers who willingly share their impressions with me. A community has grown up around these exchanges, and I am grateful for the engagement. Simultaneously, I can always count on a flurry of email disableds, readers who, for whatever reason have chosen this moment as an opportunity to opt out of my musings.

I'm not delusional; I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea. I know that I can sometimes shine too bright a light on the unhealed regions of your heart, and/or you think you're too young, too old, too smart, too whatever to relate. I get it, and frankly, my goal is to build a community of spiritual ninjas who can relate. When someone unsubscribes from my email list, I know I am drawing closer to that sweet spot.

So I'm presenting a challenge this week. I am actually inviting you, gentle reader, to unsubscribe if, after all these months, my words lack punch, lack meaning, lack a place of relevance in your life. Let's not waste each other's precious time and bandwidth.

But if, as author Donna Ashworth writes, I can be your first sip of a cold drink on a sunny day, or a warming hot chocolate when you come in from the rain, or the pop of a long-awaited champagne cork, or a stiff shot of tequila when things go awry, then come love me hard. Engage. Tap the heart. Leave a comment. Become a paid subscriber. Become a Mighty Muse. It's hard to ask people to start paying for a product or service that they've been getting free for so long, but perhaps think of it as having had time to try things out, a complimentary period. If you decide to leave, thanks for coming along for the ride; you'll be missed. If, however, you've come to value the weekly content, and the work I'm doing in the world as a creative midwife, then for God's sake, throw some money in the hat.

Now here's the full piece by Donna Ashworth. 

YOU CAN’T BE EVERYONE’S CUP OF TEA by Donna Ashworth

There will always be someone in this life who just doesn’t like you, no matter how hard you try to please them.

There will always be something that you say, or do, which causes offense or division. 

Whether you meant to or not.

There will always be someone who finds fault in you, your life or your words.

You may never find out why, please don’t waste your precious time trying to.

You can’t be everyone’s cup of tea.

Then there will be those who like you on impact. 

A little fizz of energy that passes between you. 

Silently, unseen, bonding.

Those people will not only like you but they will like you fiercely. 

They are your people. 

Whatever spare time you have, spend it on them.

You can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but you can be someone’s first sip of a cold drink on a sunny day…

Or a warming hot chocolate when you come in from the rain

or the pop of a long-awaited champagne cork

or a stiff shot of tequila when things go awry

Find your people, 

love them hard.

Review. Reflect. Rejoice.

 

                  

   Image by Victoria Model from Pixabay 

I sat down this week and made a list of the photography workshops I attended last year. I included the excursions that I took myself on--alone--without other photographers. While I went on fewer excursions in 2022, the work culminated in a solo show at a local gallery and the promise of future ones. I managed to photograph nearly two dozen locations, from a return to Ellis Island, an abandoned opera house in Connecticut, to San Francisco and the iconic Alcatraz, to country barns and winding back roads in Tennessee. Why am I telling you this? The Covid years brought great isolation for many of us. Some of us have lost loved ones, jobs, health, and friendships. Our hearts are heavy. In short, it's been a time of great transition. The one thing that has held and kept me steady is my art. The one thing I have been uncompromising on is getting out (sometimes just in my own backyard), with my camera, and doing the one thing I can control: my creative life. 

So I am asking you, I am imploring you to consider this question: what do you love to do? (Not who do you love; there's a big difference.)  What is the one pursuit, the one passion, that without, you simply wouldn't feel whole? Perhaps it's writing poetry, songwriting, painting, photography, design, or culinary arts. If you don't know the answer, take out a piece of paper, or your journal, and allow the answers to come. We are all gifted, but some of us never open our packages.

(Consider joining me in 2023 for one of my creativity courses. See the link below.) 

As we tiptoe lightly into 2023, I am grateful for the opportunity to review, reflect, and rejoice in my God-given talents. 

https://www.carolmossa.com/on-the-road