Is this really going to be a book?

Hello, Dear Reader. Just thought I'd continue my accountability and post an update about the book.

Partly because it's been awhile since I've posted something, partly so I'll keep talking about it, and partly because I've been doing an excellent job writing 30 minutes a day and it's all definitely truth of the moment, expressing my ideas about specific subjects. And while the first two chapters are narrative in style, the rest are just meanderings about my philosophy.

And I just finished babbling on about being unique, and I am staring at the multiple subjects and thinking - this can never be a GOOD book.

Yeah, I probably need to start a chapter on judgment, to remind myself that I don't believe in that either. And that GOOD & BAD are perspectives, opinions, based on comparisons.

So, what would I tell anyone else? This is just the rough draft. Not even that, this is the gathering of ideas. The stream of consciousness. This is the beginning. Keep going. If you want to make a book, you need all of your materials. And this is not about anyone else. This is about me, and my thoughts, and my work, and my commitments. Of the Lila, for the Lila, by the Lila.

And I know how I work. I get it out of my head, onto the paper/screen, THEN i form it into a work of art.

This time (today) I am not going to let my fear or my judgments or my presentiments of other people's possible opinions stop me from working on this book. Today, I am going to be proud of what I have done, and look forward to what else I will do.

Beauty.

Thank you so much for being part of my process. I hope you're having an excellent Day!

-Lila

The Book - Aaaargh! Where do I start?

Okay, I have blithely promised myself and the Universe that I will work on the happiness book.

I have even made a commitment to work on it for 30 minutes most nights.

Great. Now what?

"Just start writing!"

Yes, yes. I understand. I totally know that part. Writing for 30 minutes is the goal, and I can edit later, it doesn't matter what I put down right now, it doesn't even have to make sense yet, not even to me.

It is not a dearth of ideas that blocks my writing... it is the abundance of them!

Do I write about perspective or equality first? Value or uniqueness? Spiritual growth, mental growth, physical growth? Family (mwahahahaha) or plans for the future? Friends or past travel? Education or choices?

Do I write the exercises? The meditations? The formulas? The possibilities?

Or do I write the seminars and the classes and the thought process?

Or do I write the stories?

Do I start with my inspirations or my aspirations?

Aaaaaaaagh!

To mess with an old favorite song:
"Too many options
Too little time!"

Which, yes, is not true. I have as much time as I need. And obviously a plethora of material. And the beauty of the computer and the variety of writing programs I have is, I can start one idea today (if I'm feeling really strongly about equality) and work on another tomorrow (because I'll be pondering past travel.)

And, ha ha, because of this post, I will probably start with an exercise - perhaps on figuring out where to start? Because it is just another form of "What do I want?" which is a part of "What is my truth today?"

Well, actually, the exercise will be more generic, because other than this quandary about the book, my brain and my truth are really exploring fixing things today - a post I'm still working on.

But they actually do kind of dovetail anyway, don't they? Hmm.

(vague hand wave in general direction of reader as she wanders off to another word program...)

I hope you have a great day!
-Lila

Can one be sad in Happiness Practice?

video version

Yes, it turns out one can.

                                                                                                                   

But it takes others to tell you.

Or it takes others to tell me, anyway.

Because when one is a Happiness Practitioner (say it with importance,) one KNOWS one has the tools. Therefore one should use them, right? (Physician, Heal thyself!)

But sometimes -- and when things get really full and frantic, sometimes one can't see the trees for the forest --  sometimes, one misses things.

 I think I'm whizzing along, practicing all my steps, or at least aware of what I'm not practicing, and I can feel there's something missing, but I just can't tell what it is, and I write and I read and I search and I play and sing and drink and eat (and stop eating and stop drinking) and I grasp at possibilities, but there's still no forward movement and I'm searching and I'm believing, and I can't find the comfy blanket!

And I totally deny being sad, because of course I'm not sad. Working through things, yes; introspective, sure; choosing between two equally looming and potentially positive possibilities, definitely.

Feeling a hole in the center of my heart and I really don't know why? Yes.

I'll be honest. I thought it was because a book had broken my heart. (Teen books can be devastating.)

But actually, I'd forgotten that there were more than two possibilities. There are ALWAYS more possibilities.

Happily, I have been getting better and better at listening to myself and asking for help, so I had already set up a reading with Lois from Spellbound. (Yes, the woman who makes my hair feel special. She rocks. I highly recommend her.)

And also happily, my best friend Sheri has been yanking me back from the Bog of Eternal Stench (I smell nothing!) and reminding me that "We don't play the limitation game, anymore."

And through Lois, the Universe reminded me, very nicely, very gently, but in no uncertain terms, that I am a writer.

Which, as I look back, I realize I had been trying to tell myself for the last week. Or two. Or ten. Or two years. Or…

But Oh! The resistance!

I feel like I've locked myself in that dark room I've been fumbling around in - oh, wait, I never posted that piece.

I can't see how this can work, when it hasn't worked before. And yes, I have finished and submitted and self-published three other books.

But. Happiness isn't about knowing HOW it can work.

Happiness is about knowing that it CAN work.

This is where faith comes in, Lila.  The hard faith. The deep faith. The "take a deep breath and step off the cliff" faith.

Because, for me, believing in Glorious Omnipotent Divine (GOD) is easy. So easy. I've been talking to Him, Her, Them, Us, All since I heard the song "I have a friend in Jesus." And I have felt the connection to Spirit since I learned the song "Eagle's Wings." I once wanted to be a nun.

Even as I worked my way through pantheons and belief systems and associated music, I have never been Spiritually alone.

No, the hard faith, believe it or not (ha, ha) is in myself. Here. Alone. In this room. With my best friend asleep so many miles away, and my peeps each in their own houses living their own lives, and my husband asleep in the next room - heck, even the cat is asleep right over there.

It's just me. Here. No music.  Not helping others or listening to others or writing about others. Sometimes remembering to breathe. Me.

Asking not what I can do for the world, but what I can do for myself.

So here's what I can do for me today - and believe me, once my eyes were open and focused and the heart filled and the unacknowledged sadness dissipated, so many signs and omens and doors and possibilities have been crowding into my mind that I almost can't think straight enough to type, but I'm sure going to commemorate my metaphorical grasping of the pen once more with words -

So, today…

Well, actually, today Lois the Universe asked me if I would work on my book about Happiness and get it out there - anywhere and everywhere. And I said yes. (yay me!)

And since I'd brought all my guides and guardians, unicorns and elements in with me, I kind of have to do it.

Anyway, today another friend said, of a creative project she is working on, (and I paraphrase): "I am going to talk about it and talk about it. And the good energy of so many people focusing on it will help it grow strong."

So I am going to practice talking about it - the writing. My writing. My book. I'm going to talk about my book. And I'm going to allow the good energy of the people who believe in me to help me manifest my heart's desire.

It must be the right choice. I am so fucking scared right now.

And so blessedly relieved.

Yes, there is sadness in the Happiness practice.

Happily, there is also shouting and arm waving and friends who provide assistance before our dreams drift away to join the "Big black horse and the cherry tree" that KT Tunstall sings about.

Thank you.

And I hope you have a great day!

-L

Why fuck hate?

I don't understand.

Isn't the whole idea to undo hate? To create a world where hate has no place?

How is fucking the haters a healing thing?

After all, fucking really has little to do with love. And in this context it evokes violence, anger, and fear. And more hate.

Which is just feeding the beast we want to starve to death.

Further, it is a mirror of the beings we despise.

Are we not judging as we feel judged?

Are we not striking as we feel struck?

Are we not raping, restricting, striving to trod down those who by looks or beliefs or deeds are aligned with those who have trespassed against us?

Self-defense is admirable.

Standing up for ourselves, our beliefs, our cultures is laudable.

But when we fuck hate, we become the haters.

And we have created the dance that never ends.

So, no. I will not fuck hate. Or H8TE. (heightte?)

I will give it no earth to root nor wall to smash against.

I will let it pass over and away.

I will dissolve it with love.

Surely love is the greatest weapon against hate.

For hate is a void, a lack of love and acceptance.

And I would fill the world with love.

I will not fuck hate.

I will love.

Are you with me?

How old am I?

How old am I?

My mother gave birth to this body approx 50 years ago.

I died and was resuscitated approximately 10 years ago.

I lived 40 years before my death, so my median age is 50/2= 25.

Family tradition dictates that women stop having birthdays at 30, so I am 30.
Except I'm two years older than my sister who is also 30, so that makes me 32.
And I'm older than my brother, who didn't stop having birthdays, which puts me back to 48.
So  familially, I'm (30+32+48)/3 = 36.


Of course, there are also the components of myself, the many facets, the myriad personalities, talents, hats, skills - all the different shapes into which I shift in response to desire or need or the attitude of the person I'm conversing with. But it's difficult to give actual "age" or even number to all those Lilas, so we won't even try.

However, I know I am the accumulation of all my experiences, and so every moment a new me is created, birthed from the experiences of all the mes before.
Which means I am one moment old.
And I am two moments old.
And I am three moments old.
etc. Therefore:

* If we postulate that a moment equals one breath (inhaled and exhaled);
* and for the sake of easy math we'll say that one breath is 10 seconds in length
* then the calculated number of moments in a day would 6 (per minute) x 60 (minutes per hour) x 24 (hours per day) which equals 8640 moments.

Therefore our age would be 1 multiplied exponentially by 50 (years) x 365 (days) x 8640 (moments).

And our average age would be THAT total divided by 157,680,000 of course.

And we mustn't forget all of the births and deaths and moments that happened to "me" in all of the previous lifetimes of my/our existence. And/or those moments which have yet to happen, if time is not actually linear.

And then of course there is the question of how old I feel - which changes based on who I am speaking with. But again, that's too flexible for me to calculate.

So.
and I am 10.
and I am 25.
and I am 30.
and I am 32.
and I am 48.
and I am 50 (approximately).
and I am (1!157,680,000)/157,680,000.
and I am 1!157,680,000

And I am (all of that)  x (an unknown number of lives and experiences before and after)
                + all of those variations based on activity and company.

How old am I?

I am eternal.

How old are you?