Blessed

A couple returns to their block after Hurricane Katrina has done its devastating turn. The man asks the woman if she's ready for what they might find. They forge ahead to find the home her father built. It has been destroyed.

The woman finds a decorative item intact here and there in the massive debris. They're absolutely floored by the scene as they continue to survey it. Then she says, "A house is not a home. Family is home. My father and my husband survived. We're blessed."

I admire her perspective so.

Head games

Woke up this morning at 5:15 with the sinus headache from hell. Throbbing pain behind my right eye. Popped two Excedrin. Was still lying there awake and miserable at 6 o'clock, so I turned on Howard Stern.

Between 6 and 9 a.m., Stern's "best of" segments intermingled with my dreams as I went in and out of sleep. I dreamt of Fred Durst talking about having sex with Britney Spears in scorching detail. Of course that was what was really coming out of my radio. It was bizarre, surreal.

Woe to my humidity-induced headache.

New attitude

I'm undergoing an attitude adjustment. Not easy for me. I'm a stubborn soul.

I once told a friend to focus on what a situation (friendship, job, etc.) is rather than what it isn't. I'm taking my own advice.

Stay tuned.

Vogue dreams

I bought the 800-page September issue of Vogue to check out the fall fashions. It was a bonus to read the article and see the great photos of cover girl Sarah Jessica Parker.

The story tells of Parker's post-Sex and the City life. Yes, she has acting projects, but what really has her jazzed is the fragrance she created. It's a dream of hers coming true. It seems she's been creating her own scent for years and now has undergone the process with a team of experts. Plus, picking the dress she'd wear in the ads was another whole process (they decided on a pink de la Renta).

I love when people succeed at something and then find another dream to conquer. They keep moving, like sharks in the water. One thing, then the next. What a treat to read.

And the surrounding pages are nothing to sneeze at. The latest Pucci coat. Or Tiffany bracelets shown with jeans, a crisp white shirt and a blue sash belt tied in a bow. Or ... drumroll, please ... the show-stopping brown croc boots (Dior by John Galliano) on the last page. Oh my God. Nearly flat. Knee-high. Sleek. They're a work of art. Drool-worthy.

All kinds of dreams in this book.

Saturday

I went to a fabulous store today. Took the bus to Fort Lee to meet a friend and saw her workplace. It is filled with frames and lamps and mirrors and clocks and more stuff then I could take in. There was one floor lamp in particular that will haunt me now for weeks. The velvet shade has a cool geometric design in bold colors that would do wondrous things for my living room. Hmmmmm.

Then my friend and I came back to Hoboken to do dinner and catch up. What a wonderful touchstone. She introduced me to The Artist's Way five years ago. She understands synchronicity and alignment and psychology. A precious gift.

A good day.

The flow

I'm ready to get back in a flow. I feel it.

Time for bravado. Risks.

Time to dig deep. Have faith.

There's a shift happening beneath my feet. All the emotional, spiritual, physical work is being tested.

My view of the Universe is expanding. My vision around it more peripheral. I see so much. I sense so much.

I'm going with it.

Ahhhhhhhhh ...

Live strong

I'm watching Lance Armstrong on Larry King Live and wondering why we can't just leave champions alone. God, how I despise when people feel the need to taint triumph.

What frustrates me more is the media's role in this little "scandal." So often I defend the media, having worked in it for years, but what is this? Investigative journalism? Dredging up information from 1999? To what end?

As for the role of the French, look, I was the first one to say the whole Freedom Fries thing was for jackasses. I don't paint the whole country with a broad brush. I can't wait to visit there sometime soon. But, geez, the French media needs to grow up and get over it. An American won their freakin' race seven years in a row. Shit happens.

It blows my mind that after battling cancer and pedaling his heart out on winding roads in high altitudes, Lance Armstrong has to deal with this.

Come on, people. Be happy.

Write stuff

I love to help writers and would-be writers. It seems I am reminded of that in droves lately.

-- One of my current life coaching clients is hoping to make a living as a writer after 20-plus years in another career.

-- A former client, well on her way to a completed novel, wants some "check-in" sessions in the fall.

-- A relative has been asking for guidance on how to get a career in writing started.

-- A former client just sent me an email about a book her young daughter is writing "just for fun" and wants to know if it has a shot at being published.

-- I attended a retirement party for a former boss last weekend and a young woman I used to work with -- currently in a new career -- told me she's still writing and it's largely because of me.

All of this gets me thinking about how much I love combining my two passions -- writing and life coaching. It's an incredible rush when they intersect. And while I have been formally coaching for over three years, I was reminded at the retirement party that I have truly been coaching for a long time. It's all very rewarding.

In another conversation at the party last weekend, I met a young woman who had the same journalism professor I did. She was telling me he is retiring soon. Then she asked if I knew he uses some of my articles to teach journalism. That just knocked me out.

Writing, writing, writing. I'm being hit over the head. I've been finding feathers at my feet at least once a day.

Write, Nancy, write.

Retreat

I was supposed to have a retreat day with a group of other life coaches today, but it was cancelled at the last minute. So I spent much of today in introspection instead, hoping to at least stay true to the spirit of a "retreat" day.

I sat on a bench at the waterfront this morning, took out my notebook to write my morning pages and realized I had forgotten a pen. That meant writing them in my head, so to speak. It was soothing.

Late in the afternoon I took a long walk and had to quiet my racing mind. I settled into a more meditative state. It was soothing.

I spent time relaxing and reading. Also soothing.

Mission accomplished.

Girls' night

Had dinner with three smart, funny women tonight. We all live in the same building and I feel blessed to be surrounded by their positive energy and generosity.

The weather cooperated, so we dined at a sidewalk table at a local Italian restaurant and ate fabulous food. The conversation turned to dating and we all had stories to tell about prior experiences, protocol, what we like in guys, what we dislike.

I enjoyed myself so thoroughly.

Special response

Last week I wrote a post about the wonderful responses I got to my recently published Beliefnet article -- http://www.beliefnet.com/story/172/story_17207_1.html.

Well, it's only fair that I give equal time to the not-so-wonderful responses because boy are they doozies! It seems in addition to the posts on the article itself, I've been discussed on some personal blogs out there in cyberspace. I absolutely love it, and in some cases I laughed out loud at the absurdity and intolerance. See for yourself.

No. 1 comes courtesy of the St. Ignatius of Loyola website:
"I'm into spirituality, not religion!"
I wish I had $5.00 and an aspirin everytime I hear something along those lines — which is fairly common in Eugene, Oregon. As I point out when I give talks about The Coded Craziness, this is the line of "thinking" that an enormous amount of people are spouting. A perfect example can be found in this Beliefnet.com article, "I Shopped for a Church...and Found Spirituality Instead." The author, Nancy Colasurdo ("a life coach and a facilitator of goal-setting and creativity workshops..."), unleashes nearly every known clíche in the "I'm spiritual, not religious" handbook, following a familiar pattern:

• Discontentment: "I decided three years ago it was time to divorce Catholicism."
• Desire for effortless answers: "I vowed to do some church 'shopping.' I concentrated on visiting churches, rather than get bogged down reading mind-numbing comparisons and explanations of religions."
• Desire to be affirmed: " I wanted a faith that is culturally diverse, guilt-free and non-judgmental."
• Dipping into Eastern (usually Buddhism) thought/practice: "... I read the book Buddhism Plain & Simple by Steve Hagen. As I read it, I suddenly found the Eastern approach illuminating..."
• Discarding structure for "spirituality": " Somewhere in this swirl, the journey had shifted from shopping for a church to shopping for spirituality."
• Discovering pantheistic divinity!: "We are all divine."
• Develop customized, subjective beliefs: "New Thought doesn't ask me to discriminate, feel guilty, dwell on suffering, judge, worship a punishing God or be anyone I'm not."

She concludes: "I guess you could say that I set out merely window-shopping for a church and have emerged instead carrying a shopping bag filled with deeper spirituality. Assuredly, shopping for cashmere never felt this good." And there, I think, is the sad crux of the matter for folks such as Colasurdo: how does it make me feel? Some may call it "spirituality," but I call it spiritual hedonism.

No. 1A is a response to the previous post on his blog:

Let's face it, this is just the intellectual laziness of someone who believes in God but doesn't want to do more than that, however that person is social and likes to join stuff. Without being charged or frisked before admission.

No. 1B is another response to his blog:

I think it's b/c it's easier to live life these days, less demand on the person to deal w/ suffering and death, and using yourself as the final arbiter of what is true and ethical, and changing it whenever desired. Question: How do people utilize these 'spiritual' belief(s) when they have to deal with substantial suffering or death of close loved ones? How does 'being spiritual' get them through seriously tough times?

No. 1C, yet another response to first:

I believe this line of thinking started with the incredible influx of people entering 12th Step programs in the 1980's. The term "Higher Power" is utilized rather than God. I have the highest respect and admiration for that program. As with all egotistical individuals, they find something that "works" and feel compelled to put their spin on an accomplished feat and claim it to be their own. Those people usually wound up back behind the eight ball in short order.

No. 2 is from Bereans Blog:

... [W]hile I sympathize with the desire to worship with like-minded people, there comes a time when we start looking for a religion that we feel completely comfortable in. It is the great trap for church shoppers: How do we find a community that we like while still preserving the integrity of our faith?

The woman in Olson's post seems to have traded away much of Christianity for an amalgamation of (as Rush Limbaugh likes to say) phoney-baloney plastic-banana good-time rock and roll. A "punishing" God is too unpalatable for her. She desires to be "divine". She wants to be "guilt-free".

Christianity is many things, but among them, it is humbling and harshly bright. It reminds us that we are weak, that we do what we hate and neglect what we love. It shows us our impurities and it demands that we respond. When we pray in those dark wee hours of the morning, we are naked before our God and we can feel the tragic love he has for us, imploring us not to continue to reject him. By replacing that with a church that claims we are guilt-free gods, one loses the bulk of what makes Christianity worthwhile.

And really, if we are gods, why even go to church? Is not your home your own House of God? Why not worship yourself over doughnuts and TiVo and not bother wasting the gas? I believe it is because deep down, Colasurdo knows she is chasing a mirage. We all know we aren't gods, we all know we have sinned against the real God. I sincerely doubt that Colasurdo ever truly and completely forgets that she is flawed and needing forgiveness. I think she has merely found a place to go that tells her she's okay, tells her she's divine, and let's her believe, if only for a moment, that she has it all squared away. The same way a few shots of whiskey can help us forget our troubles, a self-centered church of self can help us forget that we have glaring flaws that require the mercy of an all-powerful God.

Stay tuned. More for another day ...

Gina's birthday

I had so much fun shopping for my 2-year-old niece's birthday present this morning that it should have been outlawed.

I began at KayBee Toys in Manhattan Mall. After I talked myself out of the Prince Charming Ken complete with white horse (I can still dream, can't I?), I came upon a sweet little vanity with mirror and stool. I called my mother, who thought it might be cute for Gina, but something told me to keep looking. Then came that famous board game, Candyland, only it was the Dora the Explorer version. That would surely go over well.

But something pushed me onward. Maybe clothing was the answer. I headed to H&M and found myself laughing out loud like a loon. I can see me in a light pink corduroy blazer this fall, but a 2-year-old? So I was off to Macy's. I went from one designer to the next -- Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren, Donna Karan -- but wound up drawn to a light pink ultra suede set for a steal. My sister will be so delighted that I've introduced her daughter to ultra suede.

There's a McDonald's on the children's floor at Macy's, so I dashed in for a rest and a Diet Coke. When I sat down I noticed two little toys sitting on the table. They looked like the prizes from a Happy Meal that someone had opted not to take. They were Barbie branded bracelets in their own little dome boxes -- one for me, one for Gina.

Yeeha.

The Soul of Money

Someone recently handed me a book called The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist. I'm enjoying it, mostly because it is filled with wonderful anecdotes that illustrate its larger points. I learn best that way, find it much more palatable than pages upon pages of theory. Especially if the topic is money (so much potential for boredom!).

Chapter 1 begins with this quote:

Money is like an iron ring we put through our nose. It is now leading us around wherever it wants. We just forgot that we are the ones who designed it.
-- Mark Kinney

Later in the book, she talks about the concept of sufficiency and the power that resides in that mindset:

In our relationship with money, it is using money in a way that expresses our integrity; using it in a way that expresses value rather than determines value.

And I'm not even halfway through the book yet.

Detachment

Sometimes things happen and I hear about them in the news and I shudder to the point where I ultimately need to detach. This plane that crashed in Greece falls into that category.

If there is a nightmare way to die in my view, it is circling around and around in mid-air waiting for the plane I'm in to crash. Oh my God. Not just crashing, but knowing it was inevitable because the pilot and co-pilot have passed out and turned blue. A few people managed to send good-bye messages via phone or text messaging. There were so many kids on board, athletes heading to a tournament. And vacationers. Oh my God.

I can't fathom it. So I'm not going to.

Spirit

My spirit was fed so beautifully today. I felt enlightened, proud, open, and perhaps most importantly, free. So free.

I had a vivid dream that made me wake with a start this morning. It was like a rebirth. I have never experienced anything like it before. All week I had asked the Universe -- after some advice from a friend -- for an answer to my most pressing life questions. This dream offered stunning direction.

It set the tone for a pleasant day, one where I took a deep breath, a long walk (in the humidity!) and relaxed into a nice get-acquainted brunch. The eventual thunder storm only added to the serenity, with the beat-beat-beat of raindrops against my windows.

Wow.

T-shirt

There is a homeless woman I see every so often here in Hoboken. She is older, quiet, dark-haired, always carrying things. Her face is softly harsh, if that is possible.

Yesterday I saw her wearing what appeared to be a brand new t-shirt. Black with white lettering. It said:

If mean people suck, nice people swallow.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Simple pleasure

Had my first Jersey tomatoes this year. Didn't know whether to frame them or eat them, such was my joy. Made tomato salad almost as good as my mother's (yes, Mom, I used fresh basil and a dash of balsamic vinegar). A nice, crusty roll for dipping. Man, was that good.

Make way

My clogged head -- yes, in more ways than one -- is giving way to blessed clarity. There is an important transformation happening in my thinking, my perception. My power is returning.

From humble to cocky. The swagger is returning. Make way. Could be scary.

Touching people

I am heartened and overwhelmed by the responses to my recently published article about my spiritual journey on www.beliefnet.com. A sampling:

From California: Your article was very illuminating as your journey to find spiritual fullfillment has given me more incentive to do the same ... I wish that you were in our area ... If you are out here, please let me know. I would also be interested in any books you have read that have enlightened you. Finally, I hope to hear from you as through your article, I feel more confident in searching for the God that lives with us, in us and calls us by name.

From Texas: I just read your article on beliefnet and felt that you have found what I have been looking for ... I am very much interested in starting a "church" such as th one you describe in your article and I definitely would like to receive your life coaching newsletter.

From Tennessee: God speed with your spiritual walk.

From ?????: I wanted to say that I felt as though I wrote parts of this article as it described exactly the situation I was going through.

From Oregon: I enjoyed and identified with Nancy Colasurdo's story and appreciate that Beliefnet included it. I hope I can find a New Thought group in my area. Being raised very conservative baptist, by very strict, harsh parents, it seems like the first half of my life was spent finding out what I don't believe. Now I am free to find out what I do believe. New Thought sounds like a good place to explore. Thanks to Nancy and Beliefnet for sharing.

From ?????: This wonderful article speaks to me of others on the same path as I, making similar stops along the way, reaching similar conclusions. The joy for me is finding I am not alone in the place my journey takes me. I have been hunting for a community of folks that feel this way in my city, and haven't found them yet.

From ?????: I am amazed at similarity of this story and the journey I am on. I was born anglican and confirmed and never went to church again for 35 years, spiritually dead. 35 years later I have found a minister similar to what I read here, a church full of giving, non judgemental people, a minister preaching light and love, openness for gays, women as priests, giving to the poor and hurting. I go in tired and come out refreshed and peaceful.

From ?????: What a fascinating article! Now I better understand what the term Spiritual means, and it also pinpoints problems in the Christian churches that should be addressed. If there are churches are focusing on guilt, judging, and suffering, they are missing the mark and not serving the people.

From ?????: Nice read made me smile!

From ?????: What a wonderful article.

From Toronto: I really love hearing about another's journey. What makes this stroy so wonderful is that it isn't too different than mine.

From Alabama: As a member of a New Thought church, I was happily amazed that this made the headlines of Bnet.

What more can I add?

And so it is.

Ordeal

About eight years ago, a prominent law professor at the University of Michigan gave me a book to read. It has been sitting on my shelf since then, unopened. Not an imposingly large book or difficult book. Not even a scholarly book.

It's a paperback called Ordeal and it was written by Linda Lovelace. I just finished reading it. Knew nothing about her or it except that she was a porn star. Now I know plenty. Her story is about victimhood and how her entire porn career developed against her will. Everything seemed to snowball. Her fear. Her submission. Her degradation. Others' willingness to cooperate in her victimhood. Eventually she came to find her own power after several attempts at "escape" from the man who controlled her for years.

So I was just talking to a wise, spiritual friend who posed this: Why read it now? Were there any synchronicities?

HaHa. Like, you mean, maybe feeling life spinning out of control? Like everyone is controlling my fate but me? Like I'm not steering the ship anymore? Nah.

What makes you ask that?

Wild Kingdom

I just came from a weekend at my parents' home in Leisure Village. I find it a nice haven, a place with people who love me unconditionally who just happen to have central air conditioning. A winning combo in this humidity.

So shortly after I arrive -- with my siblings, their spouses and children in the house -- I inquire about the squirrel issue my brother mentioned in passing on the phone. "How is it possible our mother hasn't told you one squirrel story yet? Nan, it's easy to see where you get your pathological fear of mice."

And so it is.

As it happens, my parents' home has wooden posts holding up the roof over their main entrance walkway. If you look out the living room window, you can see a gaping hole at the top of the post. Apparently, a very strong-willed squirrel has decided it's a great place to house her babies until they're ready to enter the world. A moody little critter, she can often be found hanging off the top of the post. In the meantime, my mother is afraid to enter her home via the front door.

So she called the maintenance folks of the retirement community. They informed her that if they remove the squirrel babies now and the mother comes back and finds them missing, she will terrorize the place like nothing you can believe. Tear it up. The works. Welcome to Leisure Village.

Adding insult to injury, my brother comes in last night and mentions the bird taking up residence in another post. "This place is like Wild Kingdom," he says. We laugh hard at this. Even my mother.

Methinks she will be coming and going through the garage for a very long time.

Appeasement

I'm catching a train soon. The time is contingent upon the arrival of the exterminator, who is expected between the hours of 8 a.m. and noon. Well, it's 10:08 and counting.

My neighbor upstairs has a mouse. A few weeks ago, I had a mouse. The exterminator is coming a week early for his monthly visit at the request of the landlord. The exterminator and I will have our usual conversation about the level of "activity" in the building, which up until now has been quiet. But I will also have him be extra vigilant around vulnerable areas and appease me a bit.

It's all good. But come on, dude, I want to get on the road ...

The blahs

I'm out of sorts. As a self-professed control freak, I hate that feeling. It's got to be the oppressive humidity, my stuffed head, my overall uncertainty about things happening in my life.

Yikes. I am ready for a breakthrough, stark clarity, a vacation.

Bring it on.

Another byline

Always, always a rush to get a byline. I've had hundreds of them, yet each new one gives me a special high. As of this writing, an essay I wrote about my spiritual journey leads www.beliefnet.com.

This one is personal and dear to my heart. After my first draft was submitted, an insightful editor sent it back with probing questions. Once the initial shock wore off, a dear friend pushed me to dig deep and answer those questions from a soul level.

I'm proud of the result.

Weak point

I have a teensy little cold. Mild congestion. Scratchy throat. Merely annoying.

Toss in the extreme humidity outside and I find that I feel lethargic and weak. Weak! Now that I despise.

Vitamins, chicken soup, determination and ultimately... strength.

Sightings

Saw Ted from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy on 7th Avenue today. Actually I heard him first. He was walking behind me and I recognized his voice.

Love all the little sightings in New York. I remember someone saying being here is like being on a TV show instead of just watching it. Makes you feel like you're living where it's all happening.

In the last few weeks alone, saw Matthew Broderick on roller blades in the West Village and former New Jersey Governor Jim McGreevey in the PATH station at the World Trade Center.

Past run-ins have included Bill Clinton, Hilary Swank, Carson Kressley, Isaac Mizrahi, Tim Robbins, Tony Curtis.

What a rush.

Big on Babs

I've been listening to a lot of Streisand lately. Man, I dig her. What the woman can do with a song ... amazing.

While I enjoy The Way We Were and Evergreen and some of her great hits, I am particularly motivated by Don't Rain On My Parade. It's one of those rare songs I actually act out while I sing. I love its strong defiance. It puts me in the mood when I need to be resilient and dig deep.

Don't tell me not to fly
I've simply got to
If someone takes a spill it's me and not you
Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?

Nothing like it ...