Earlier this week, I wrote in A blank slate, happy for no reason that I’ve been in a great mind space the past week, where my internal dialogue has slowed to almost a halt.  When I wake up, when I’m just sitting, when I’m relaxing: a nice, serene, happy blank slate.  Happy for no specific reason. I’m always glad when I come into that space, as I do for a spell every few months.  It always comes during a time when things are going exceedingly well.  It lets me know that what I’m doing is working for me.  It lets me know that, as Abraham-Hicks says, I’m in the vortex. My last week’s posts have been repostings of the James Arthur Ray Sedona Sweat Lodge matter since I am getting a lot of emails asking for info about that.  Cassandra Yorgey is doing such a great job of covering the story that I’ve been sharing her findings here in my blog.  I will keep updating the page entitled Updated Links for info about the James Ray Matter.

That also keeps me from having to purposely think up thoughts and find something to blog about, during a time that I am having a welcome relief from thoughts.  Reposting Cassandra Yorgey‘s great articles lets me still give my daily readers something new that I am personally interested in, and it lets me stay in my happy, mindless, thought-free state.  When I would have days like this back when I worked for other people, I simply took off work.  Now that I work for myself, I do the same.

I woke up yesterday morning determined to not jump on the computer right away, but to get dressed and go to church for the first time in a couple of months.  I typically sit down to check email about dawn and then hours later am so engrossed in what I am doing that I don’t want to stop.  I’ve been gung ho with my work lately and working Sundays as well, and now am wanting to get back to my more relaxed routine of Sundays off.  So I get to church just after all the hugging and helloing is finishing up, and I got to say hello to lots of friends.  The music was nice and I enjoyed the meditation.  But almost as soon as I got there, I wanted to be back home.  WTF?

When I get like that, I don’t question myself, I simply go with my impulse.  I snuck my offering into the bag and split out the side door.  I got in my car and took the long drive home: east on Eau Gallie Causeway then south down AIA and west across the Wabasso causeway and north up US 1.  It’s a favorite drive of mine, especially when I’ve been working as much as I have been lately, glued to the computer and phone 18 hours a day, 7 days a week.  An ocean drive goes a long way in dispelling cabin fever.

I thought that although I’ve been posting a lot about the James Ray incident, and reading a lot about it, I’ve not really given it much thought beyond filing it under “sh*t happens.”  None of it outrages me, since I know people from all walks of life do all sorts of things.  Having worked as a criminal defense paralegal for 22 years, I know anybody can be capable of anything, given the circumstances.  I know anyone can goof up.  I know things are not always what they seem.

I am never surprised when the milquetoast next door neighbor is really a Hannibal Lechter.  Anyone can practice a facade and get good at it. None of that surprises me.  And it doesn’t surprise me when I get in that observer mode, where I observe things that are going on in the world, and find none of them bother me.  No matter how horrific they can seem to friends.  They all seem just like another turn of the wheel, some “good”, some “bad”, but of no particular import worth discussing or theorizing over.

I could never be a journalistic reporter.  One that has to gather and check information on deadline, getting it to the presses before anyone else.  That’s a lot of work and a gazillion pages to go through. I figure, what I write, I write for me and for anyone who wants to read me.  Lots of my friends are like me, and we all have similar thoughts and realizations and we each appreciate reading what the others have to say about our personal lives.  It’s usually relevant on some level to each of us as well.

I am glad that I’m able to just sit in my beautiful setting, on my own schedule, and read the things I want to read, and write about what interests me, and somehow it all turns into dollars that keeps it all going.  I am glad I do not have to run out to lousy assignments, like Lois Lane sometimes had to do for The Daily Planet.  How she did all that running around and in heels, too – wow.  No wonder Superman dug her.  But that life’s not for me.

Hmmm, did I just talk myself out of a Superman?

In case the FTC is wondering, I am not endorsing anyone.

Andrea

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