The Secret Is Wags

Tim and I have made a pact. For one week, starting today, we are not going to complain about anything, not one single solitary tiny thing. Not out loud and not in our heads.

Complaints are, of course, negative energy. Complaints aren’t vibrationally aligned with anything we really want.

Abraham-Hicks says:

“You have in your vibrational escrow all those things you want, and you could pick any one thing on the planet that’s going wrong or in your life and give it your undivided attention, and you could keep all of those things that you want from happening because you’ve activated such a vibration of lack over this one thing. Isn’t that interesting? Because whatever it is that you use as your excuse to offer your vibration, sets the tone for your point of attraction.

“Haven’t you noticed that the the worse it gets, the worse it gets for awhile, until you come to your senses? And the better it gets, the better it gets, until you fall back into your old habits? In other words, haven’t you noticed that you can get on a run where you’re feeling really good and things just get better and better and better and then some old person shows up in your life or something happens and you get re-focused or you watch CNN or you go to the movie on Global Warming and you have sort of a Resistance Relapse?”

In other words, every time we turn our attention to complaining, we activate resistance that keeps us from moving toward what we desire.

But we spend a lot of time complaining … about really silly stuff, generally.

I find it funny, actually, how someone like me and others I know can talk about the law of attraction and how like attracts like and how we create our reality and then two seconds later complain about something.

It’s like my friend and I are looking at a fire. I say, “If I stick my hand in that fire, I will burn my skin, and it will hurt.” My friend nods sagely and says, “That is so true. We must keep our hands out of the fire.” Then we both put our hands in the fire.

Well, this week, my hands are staying out of the fire.

Complaints don’t serve me. If I see something I don’t like, I will use the contrast to help me determine what I do like. Then I’ll think about and talk about what I like.

If others are complaining, I am no longer going to stick to the social convention of, “Oh, yes, I know what you mean,” which is generally followed by another story of complaint.

I will listen and then find a positive aspect and mention that.

So if you are someone who plans to talk to me this week or communicate with me this week, be forewarned. I’m off the complain-chain.

This is the week for comMENDing, not comPLAINing.

Let’s applaud life instead of jeering at it.

Want to join me in a complain-free week? Leave a comment and state your intention to join us in our pact. Let’s see what we can create together by commending instead of complaining.

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Yesterday, we were fortunate to get feel-good help from a Schnoodle.

Ducky’s best friend, Jake, the Schnoodle, stayed with us for a couple hours. So my parents could enjoy the pleasure of watching Ducky and Jake play, we walked the dogs down the street to their house and turned the dogs loose in the backyard.

Ducky and Jake had a blast playing with each other. And we had a blast watching. If you can watch two happy dogs playing and not smile, you have some BIG work to do to get yourself into alignment.

When you see Ducky and Jake together, you’d think they’ve been buddies forever.

They haven’t.

In fact, their first meeting didn’t go well at all.

Ducky was three months old when we brought her home with us. Kathy and Lyn brought Jake to our home to meet Ducky the day after we got her.

We all expected Jake and Ducky to hit it off immediately. Jake is three years old. He loves to play. He gets along with all manner of animals, from other dogs, to cats, to rabbits and birds. He was always gentle with our old 17-year old Springer before she passed.

But Ducky didn’t know anything about Jake. So when he came through our front door with Lyn and Kathy for the first time, Ducky squealed as if she was being tortured to death. If there was an audio dictionary for sound clichés and you looked up, “scream bloody murder,” you’d hear the sound Ducky made.

It was our fault. We didn’t consider that Ducky was so new to our house. Of course a dog charging through the front door enthusiastically would freak her out.

No matter what we did that day, Ducky would have nothing to do with Jake.

Not an auspicious beginning.

If we’d taken that beginning and used it to predict the future, Ducky and Jake wouldn’t have had any more play dates.

But we tried again. This time, we changed the dynamic. We put both dogs on leashes and had them meet out on the street, figuring that Ducky wouldn’t feel like her home was being invaded.

It worked.

Ducky fell in love with Jake. Now they’re crazy about each other.

Dogs teach us so much. Muggins was the best teacher I’ve ever had. Ducky, though young, is doing a pretty good job too.

Every time she gets together with Jake, she reminds me that I can’t look at how things are now and project how they’re going to be in the future. What’s bad now could be great later on.

Abraham-Hicks says that when it seems like you’re stuck, you’re not. Energy is always in motion. You’re never stuck. You just keep recreating the same thing over and over. To move on to something better, you need to change the dynamic, i.e, the thoughts you’re thinking.

I need to keep returning to this truth.

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In my virtual reality, this is how I spent my day.

I woke up just before 8.  Ducky and her sister, Dandy, lay against me in the bed, their eyes open, waiting for me to wake up.  When I pushed the button on my nightstand to open our black-out shades, both dogs turned into wiggle-waggle-squeaking machines.  We exchanged exuberant oh-my-god-it’s-been-forever-since-we’ve-seen-you greetings while I looked out the window at the sun’s glitter on the surface of the ocean.

Tim had already left to go play golf.  So I threw on my clothes, made a quick fruit smoothie, and the dogs and I set off for our walk on our acreage.  We have four mile-plus long trails, and we did all of them today.  Sun shining.  Cool breeze.  It was a wonderful walk.

I returned home, rinsed their feet in the Springer room (where we groom them), then went downstairs to the work-out room.  I spent 4 minutes on the ROM and another 20 minutes practicing a dance routine I’m working on.  The dogs watched me and rated my performance at a 7 out of 10—needs work.  We all went back upstairs and I got into the Bath Cave (Tim’s name for our large stone shower).  After my shower, I ate a small bowl of cereal.

I had have no writing deadlines right now, so after I ate, I went (with dogs at my side, of course) up to my art studio.  I’ve been taking watercolor lessons, and I’m working on a landscape of the view from our home.  From the expressions on Ducky’s and Dandy’s faces, I think they rate it even lower than my dance routine; but I’m having fun with it.

When Tim came home about 12:30, he found me at my easel.  He and the dogs exchanged their wild greetings.  He smelled all “golfy”—a mixture of grass and sweat and satisfaction.  He said he was getting in the hot tub and wanted company.  That was fine by me.

We spent the next 45 minutes in the hot tub while the dogs snoozed nearby (they ran like crazy on their walk and were still worn out).  I love the hot tub—it never fails to put Tim and I in a great mood, if you know what I mean. I’m surprised he has so much energy after golfing, but he does, which is great.

Tim took a shower.  I threw on some clothes and went down to the music room to practice piano and singing the harmony part I’m learning for a song Tim and I are working on together.  Ducky and Dandy got their second wind and wrestled on the exercise mat outside the music room.

After my practice, I went to my office and updated my Joyful Springer blog.  Tim was in his shop.  He’s working on a table for some friends of ours.  He’s been learning so much from our neighbor, who’s been wordworking for years.

I went back up to my studio to do some cartoon drawing and was surprised when Tim came in and told me it was almost 7.  I really got lost in what I was doing.

Tim and I made burritos for dinner with fresh guacamole for me.  He’s cleaning up the kitchen while I make this post, and then we’re going up to the SPAP (Scrabble, Ping pong And Pool) room to play some pool.  We’ll probably watch a movie in bed later.  The dogs love it when we do that because they can curl up with us.

It’s been a wonderful day in the Waggery, which means it’s been a normal day.  I’m so blessed.

…and this was me telling the story of what I want, not what is.

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A friend told me she was making a list of things she loved.  What a great idea!  What better way to feel good than to deliberately think of all the things you love?

Abraham-Hicks say that the vibration of appreciation is one of the most powerfully positive vibrations you can experience.  When you’re appreciating, you’re aligned with source, with your nonphysical self, and when you’re aligned, you’re a vibrational match to what you want.

So that’s what I just did; I made a list of things I love and appreciate.

Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

1. Tim
2. Ducky
3. Muggins
4. Me
5. My house
6. All the trees in my yard
7. Trees in general
8. Privacy
9. Living near the ocean
10. The constant sound of the ocean
11. Rain
12. More rain
13. Even more rain
14. Blustery days
15. Laughing
16. Winnie the Pooh
17. Tigger
18. My memory foam/latex king-sized mattress …. Ahhhhh
19. My memory foam pillow
20. Ducky sleeping against me
21. Watching Ducky sleep
22. Watching Ducky play
23. Watching Ducky watch TV (she likes dog shows)
24. Watching Ducky do pretty much anything … (yes, even peeing)
25. Walking in the woods
26. Walking by the ocean
27. Finding agates
28. Finding shells
29. Finding glass floats
30. The glass floats I’ve already found
31. The big driftwood logs Muggins once carried that I saved and Tim sanded and sealed and that are in my bedroom reminding me of how wondrous Muggins was and still is (in nonphysical form)
32. Long, hot jacuzzi baths
33. Reading in bed
34. My gas fireplace
35. Funny movies (not stupid, just funny)
36. The Joyful Springer blog
37. Bubbles
38. Teddy bears
39. Puppies
40. Dogs
41. Elephants
42. Deer
43. Rabbits
44. Raccoons
45. Squirrels
46. Pizza
47. Red wine
48. Riesling wine
49. Chocolate
50. Especially brownies
51. And chocolate chip cookies
52. Lemon meringue pie
53. Cheesecake
54. Crab cakes
55. The Ocean Crest Resort Restaurant
56. The Oregon Coast
57. Cannon Beach, Oregon
58. Jan
59. Nancy
60. Kathy
61. Paz
62. Drawing
63. Singing
64. Sex (with my husband)
65. Dancing
66. Sleeping in
67. Waking up naturally (no alarm)
68. Puppy Days
69. Writing
70. Selling a book
71. Seeing my books in book stores
72. Money, specifically, money that’s mine
73. Playing Scrabble
74. Playing cards
75. Having friends over to play games
76. Playing Pictionary
77. Supportive friends
78. Purple
79. Vibrant blue
80. Bright red
81. A good action thriller movie
82. Anne Rivers Siddons books
83. The Corrs
84. Enya
85. Sarah McLachlan
86. Candlelight dinners
87. Foot massages
88. Full body massages
89. Using my chi machine
90. Hot tubs
91. Having my day free to do whatever the heck I want to do
92. Sweetheart roses
93. Taking pictures
94. Taking pictures of dogs
95. My laptop computer
96. My ability to type quickly
97. My ability to read quickly
98. My ability to think quickly
99. Being able to walk
100. The fact that Tim tells me he loves me several times a day
101. Having a husband who thinks I’m beautiful no matter what
102. Ducky’s exuberant greetings (when we’ve been apart for 5 minutes)
103. Petting Ducky
104. Watching House Hunters International on HGTV
105. Baking
106. Going out for dinner
107. Going out for breakfast
108. Going out for lunch
109. Miniature golf
110. Air hockey
111. Shooting arcade games
112. Racing arcade games
113. Celtic knots
114. My bedroom furniture
115. The hutch that Tim built
116. The mountains
117. Mount Rainier
118. Sunsets
119. Sunrises
120. Rainbows
121. Eagles
122. Mystery novels
123. Piano music
124. Listening to Tim sing
125. Singing with Tim
126. Watching Tim direct a choir
127. Long talks with close friends
128. Coffee with hazelnut cream
129. Dreaming about Muggins
130. My 22-year old 4runner, which keeps on truckin’
131. The Weatherwax, the forest where we walk Ducky
132. Good water pressure
133. Gas cook stove
134. Garbage disposals
135. My ceiling fan
136. My washer/dryer
137. The fact that Tim does laundry
138. The fact that Tim helps me clean the house
139. Having the house clean and neat
140. Clean sheets
141. Flannel sheets
142. Fuzzy navels (the drink, not lint in a portion of the anatomy)
143. Peaches
144. Raspberries
145. Crusty French bread
146. Manicotti
147. Mexican food
148. Mu shu chicken
149. Vegetable egg rolls
150. Simple gold jewelry
151. My celtic wedding band
152. My Muggins necklace (her picture in 24k gold)
153. Abraham-Hicks
154. The law of attraction
155. My peaceful neighborhood
156. Quiet evenings at home
157. The movie, Love Actually
158. The movie, Notting Hill
159. Interior design
160. Shopping for décor stuff
161. Sewing teddy bears
162. Snow
163. Having a nice ex-husband
164. Being married to a very sweet man
165. Having my hair washed
166. Thinking about the Waggery
167. Thinking about traveling in an RV with Tim and Ducky
168. Being slender (I can vaguely remember what that felt like)
169. My covered back deck
170. My small town
171. Being 1 minute from a grocery store
172. Being less than that from a beach
173. Getting a pedicure
174. Massage chairs
175. Writing a novel
176. Finishing a novel
177. Buying presents for friends and family
178. Wrapping presents
179. The yuletide
180. Decorating for the yule
181. Opening presents
182. Holy Clothing (it’s a brand, not something spiritual)
183. Ebay
184. Getting unexpected money
185. Winning
186. Success
187. Pancakes on Sunday mornings
188. Being able to see, hear, smell, feel, and taste
189. Cobb salad (without the bacon)
190. Avocados
191. Artichokes
192. Picnics
193. Bev Doolittle art
194. Strawberry/banana smoothies made with soy milk
195. Submarine sandwiches (with turkey, cheese and all the fixings, especially with vinegar … but NOT from Subway—they’re okay, but not my fave)
196. Training Ducky—especially when she GET’S IT!
197. The Pacific Northwest
198. The Olympic Mountains
199. Fort Warden in Port Townsend, WA
200. Costco
201. Lazing in a hammock
202. Hummingbirds
203. Butterflies
204. Ladybugs
205. Fuzzy caterpillars
206. Chipmunks (especially feeding them)
207. Feeding apples to the deer across the street from our house
208. Day trips

I’m making it a goal to continue to think of things to add to this list.  How can I be thinking of things I don’t like if I’m scouring my head for things I love?

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On that rocky beach where Tim and I walked on Tuesday, a rain shower shoved aside the sun and left behind its colorful signature.

Only moments before, we had walked right through the place where that rainbow touched down.  I’d never seen a rainbow’s end so clearly before … and one I’d just walked past.

Was there a pot of gold that I missed?

Am I missing one in my life now?

Tim told me on Tuesday that our pot of gold was waiting for us at home (he said he was going to win the lottery that night).

Maybe it’s someplace close by.  But I don’t see it yet (he didn’t win).

So maybe the joy is in the rainbow, not what’s at the end of it.

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We think of law of attraction as being something that brings things or experiences to us.  But the law of attraction brings thoughts to us too.  Like vibration attracts like vibration.  So if you’re thinking an angry thought, that vibration will bring you more angry thoughts.

This is how we think ourselves into a tizzy.  Ever noticed how you get angry at someone you love for some little thing and suddenly all the anger you’ve ever had about them has bubbled up?  Thank the law of attraction for that.

Noticing the thoughts coming to you can tell you what kind of alignment you have going.  Having trouble finding happy thoughts?  You’re not in alignment.  You’re thinking thoughts that will bring you things you don’t want.

When you’re thinking happy thoughts, you’re thinking about things that are in vibrational alignment with things you want, which means good things are coming.

I’ve spent the majority of my life with a mind full of thoughts that vary from feel bad thoughts to feel neutral thoughts.  Yes, of course, I’ve had a lot of feel good thoughts, but the balance of my thought has been lousy.  I used to struggle mightily with depression—which, though the medical community and most people would disagree with me, I’ve come to believe is, to a great extent, a choice.  I was under psychiatric care and took medication for bipolar disorder for six years a decade ago.  I thought the depression was out of my control.  I’ve learned since then that it’s just the law of attraction in action.  Fall into a depressive thought pattern and more and more such thoughts will come to you; pretty soon, you’ll be so out of alignment with nonphysical you that you’ll be completely depleted of energy and in total despair.

Most people in my current financial and obese-body circumstances would feel depressed.  And I DID feel depressed a couple weeks ago.  Now, I don’t.  I didn’t take a pill or see a counselor.  I deliberately started choosing thoughts that made me feel good.

It was tough at first—like finding the one ingredient you like in a stew pot mostly filled with ingredients you hate.  But now that I’ve been doing it for a week, it’s getting pretty easy.  I’m finding so many things to appreciate.

I haven’t experienced any grand manifestations of things or experiences (big ones) since I started my feel good experiment, but I have been noticing that more feel good thoughts are coming my way.  And I’m noticing more feel good things too.

My parents gave me a gift subscription to Reader’s Digest. Except for the jokes, Reader’s Digest could be called Negative Digest. The magazine is full of dire warnings, complaints, advice on how to AVOID things, and stories of injury and pain.

I’d almost decided to toss the next issue I got, but this time, I decided to check it out.  And guess what the law of attraction brought me?

An article about a family who set up a program that throws birthday parties for homeless children.

Now that’s a feel good thought!

The more I appreciate, the more law of attraction is bringing me things to appreciate.

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Last night, Tim was checking a couple stations on the TV to see if the show he wanted to tape was on or whether it had been preempted by George Clooney’s benefit for the people of Haiti (way to go, George).  Tim had the TV muted while he did this.  As he flipped through the channels that broadcasted the benefit, I watched a woman (didn’t recognize her) singing.

She looked really stupid.  Opening and closing her mouth, contorting her face, closing her eyes, wrinkling her nose, clenching her fists—without sound, she was indistinguishable from a mental patient having a severe fit.

“You know,” I said to Tim, “singers look really weird when they sing, but you don’t notice it when you can hear what they’re singing.”

“Uh huh,” he said, completely uninterested in my banal comment.

Well, he may not have cared, but the observation helped me.

You see, I have trouble accepting.  When things seem to be going in ways I don’t want, I get impatient, frustrated, disappointed, and discouraged.  These, obviously, are NOT feel good emotions.

Even though I used to write a regular column about looking at life in an upbeat way, it’s not my natural set-point for processing my world.  So I make judgments about how things are going.  Of course, this is not a vibrational match to the things I want.

So seeing those singers made me stop and think.  They look just plain wrong without the sound that goes with all those facial contortions.

So imagine this extraterrestrial who has no physical apparatus that processes sound (he and his fellow little purple men use telepathy to communicate and have vibrational sensors that make them aware of what’s around them).  He comes to earth and sees someone singing.  He’s observed humans enough to know what normal facial expressions look like.  He thinks there must be something very wrong with this person singing.

See his erroneous conclusion?  Where does it come from?  It comes from the missing pieces in his observation.  He doesn’t hear the sound.

That’s what happens when I decide that something is going wrong.  I can’t see the missing pieces.  I don’t know how this situation will be impacted by people and circumstances I can’t yet see.  It looks bad to me now because I don’t have all the information.

This may seem like a “duh, OBVIOUSLY” thing to you, but it’s helping me.  I’m finding it easier to be easy about whatever’s going on around me.  I’m just watching it without judgment, reminding myself that I don’t have all the pieces yet.  The pieces I want are in my vibrational escrow.  All I need to do is feel good about what’s here now.

I was able to do that today, even though I was cleaning the house, and that’s not my favorite thing to do.

I’m not in a perfect feel good place, yet, but I’m making progress.

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I had to get something from Tim’s desk.  Tim has a sign on his desk that says, “I’m too busy to be neat.”  Need I say more about the state of his workspace?  I usually have to dig if I want to find anything.

So I was digging, and unfortunately, my excavation unearthed some rejection letters from agents to whom I’ve been submitting screenplays and other projects.  Tim, bless him, checks our P.O. box and keeps track of my submissions.  He doesn’t take them personally; I do.  I saw those letters, and I felt my energy plummet.  I felt bad, and I knew it.

What was I feeling?  Anger?  Disappointment?  Sadness?  Probably all of the above and other gems like shame and fear.

In the past, I would have wallowed in these feelings for a bit.  But I’m in the first week of my feel good experiment, so I wasn’t going to indulge in that crud.

Find something to feel good about, I commanded myself.  Convincing myself I’m a great writer at that moment wasn’t exactly within my reach.  Telling myself that my work will find the right home didn’t work either.  I needed to get off the topic of writing and selling completely.

I spotted Ducky sprawled on the sofa.  She looked up at me and wagged her stub of a tail.  I approached her, and her whole body wiggled.  I sat down and hugged her.  Ahh.  That felt better.

Abraham says we don’t have to go from feeling bad to perfect joy; all we have to do is feel relief.  Pet my dog—feel relief.  Works every time.

Thank the universe for Ducky!  She’s my fastest access to feeling good most of the time.  This morning, I grinned nonstop for 45 minutes while I watched her play with her friend in the woods.  That’s some seriously great alignment there!

Dogs are poster beings for great vibrations.  Such joy!

If you don’t have a dog, find something that lights you up.  We all need something to flip the switch from sad to glad.  The life we want to live depends on it.

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Yesterday, a friend sent me an e-mail telling me to check out her Facebook page.  She’d added a bunch of pictures to it.

I don’t do Facebook.  So I asked her how to do that.  She sent me an invitation to be her friend on Facebook.

Turns out I have an account.  I’d totally forgotten that I signed up about 2 ½ years ago when I was doing everything I could think of to promote websites.  I never finished setting it up.  Never wrote a profile or added pictures.  Truth was my heart wasn’t in it.

I don’t like Facebook.

There, I said it.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI comes knocking on my door.  I think it might be anti-American to dislike Facebook.  Even more radical to refuse to look at anyone’s Twitters.

I just don’t like people that much.

Well, okay, that’s not true.  I mean, I like people, but I don’t want to know what everyone else is doing.  It messes with my head.

Too many people are doing negative things.  Or they’re doing positive things I think I should be doing and I’m not so I feel guilty that I’m not.  Or they’re doing things I just plain don’t care about one way or the other.

Facebook is too exposed for me.

Yeah, me.  A book author who has been on national TV to promote her book.

Or maybe it’s not that.  Maybe it’s the group-think involved with it.  The sheep aspect of it.  Everyone’s doing it.  I prefer to do things that not everyone is doing.

So I went to Facebook and accepted my friend’s request.  I discovered one of my dear friends had made a friend request months ago.  I accepted it then sent her an e-mail that said I hadn’t been ignoring her—I’d just not been following up with Facebook.

All authors should be on Facebook, the experts say.   That thought makes my stomach clench up.  I don’t like it.

A few days ago, this was Abraham’s daily quote:

“We would never do anything that didn’t make our heart sing! … And so you say, ‘But that choice doesn’t seem to be there. There’s this choice that doesn’t make my heart sing, or sort of staying where I am. So what should I do?’ And we say, we’d hang around and wait for something that makes our heart sing—and then we’d jump in with all four feet.”

I have SO much evidence that doing what other people say is a good idea doesn’t often work out.  I want to do what makes my heart sing.

I’m working on a book proposal right now for a book about my 17-year relationship with Muggins, my dog that died in October last year.  THAT makes my heart sing.

Facebook doesn’t make me sing.  So my page is going to stay the mess it is.  Thirty unanswered friend requests.  No pictures.  No information about me.

I don’t want to join that crowd.

And since I’m choosing to make feeling good my top priority, I don’t have to.

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I woke up this morning in a lousy mood.  Not a good thing when you’re only on day four of a feel good experiment.

Mornings and the middle of the night—these are the toughest times for me.  It’s like my default button is set on “oh my God, we’re going to run out of money!”

You know how answering machines have that basic message that plays if you don’t record your own?:  “Please record your message,” a serious voice demands.  Not an upper.  Tim and I have our own, far more upbeat, humorous outgoing message.  However, when the power goes out, the machine returns to “Please record your message.”

This is like my emotional recording system.  Only my basic message has this high-pitched, anxious mouse-being-chased-by-a-big cat tone that squeaks variations of “no money.”

No wonder I’m financially depleted.

I want to wake up feeling good.  I want to wake up feeling secure about my finances, feeling free about my life, feeling enthusiastic about what’s coming.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve woken up feeling that way.

What I usually have to do is scramble my way to a feel good spot.

Leash my out-of-control mind.  Reel it in.  Find thoughts that make me feel good:   My bed is comfortable.  I love living in such a quiet neighborhood.  I’m in pretty good health.  All my parts are working.  When I open my shade, I see beautiful trees.  My husband loves me very much.  My dog loves very much.  Etc. etc.

Once I warm up the thought engine, sometimes I can move on to visualizing the life I want to wake up to.  I can see the bedroom in the house we want to build.  I imagine waking up in the slender body I used to have and want to have again.  I stretch on my comfortable bed, push a button to open shades.  Stand and look at my ocean view and do a graceful yoga sun salutation.  (I used to be able to bend over and put my nose between my knees—I want to do that again.)

This morning, I had to scrape and claw for happy thoughts.  My dreams were disturbing last night.  In each one, I was frustrated, angry, or both.  Abraham says that your dreams are an indicator of your alignment.  Bad dreams—no alignment.  Good dreams—alignment.  Hmm.

So I dragged myself from bed, dressed, and Tim, Ducky and I got in the car.  Gorgeous day.  Reasonably calm.  Pale blue sky with skittering frothy, unthreatening clouds.  I thought about the work I wanted to get done today.  Then I thought about how nice it would be to walk by the bay (20 minutes from our house)—when we do that, it takes more time.  I shouldn’t waste the time, I thought.

But then … For five years, I’ve been busting my butt doing things to try and get to a place where I think I’ll be happy.  What has it gotten me?

Today’s Abraham quote (they have daily quotes you can subscribe to) was:

“Everything that I think that I need to do is all only in order to propel me to some place that when I get there, I think I will be happier. So, everything that I am doing, no matter what it is, all of my lists of rights and wrongs… are all about me getting to a manifestation that I believe I will then be happier… So, why don’t I take a short cut and just go get happy?”

Why don’t I?

We went to the bay.  We walked for an hour and a half.

And oh what a glorious time we had.  The day was clear enough that we could see Mount Rainier in the distance—the top of it, jutting in its winter white, toward a soft, layered sky.  The ocean unfolded itself in an accordion succession of waves that left trails of spray glistening in their wake under the morning sun.  Ducky discovered the joy of chasing crows and seagulls.  I found several agates.  We encountered few people, so Ducky was free to explore.

I was happy.  I forgot my dreams.

The long walk rerecorded my emotional message—all is well.  Life is good.

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