Messages from the universe can appear anywhere, including a hospital gift shop.
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Messages from the universe can also appear on Twitter.
Do you see any messages from the universe in my other images for today?
Maybe you should hydrate more. It’s a brand new day. There is art everywhere. There’s more than one way to commute to work. I should really visit the Kennedy Library one of these days. There are dangers and protections everywhere. What the hell is happening to the United States? Is it strong enough to endure? And, it sure is windy around here.Maybe I should stop captioning these images and let you see your own messages from the universe.
Messages from the universe are encouraging me to visit a beach, be aware of my grief for those I loved and lost, and remember all those delicious toasted marshmallows.
Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “messages from the universe.”
Many people I work with in therapy have trouble forgiving themselves for past mistakes and transgressions. Yesterday, I gave somebody this assignment: to look themselves in the face (in a mirror, any other reflective surface, or, yesterday, during our ZOOM call) and say, “I forgive you.” We practiced that many times during the therapy session, with this person adding their name at the end of the self-forgiving statement.
I’ve been practicing that also, and it really helps. I forgive you, Ann, for
being irritable with lots of people lately,
your lapses in memory,
repeating yourself,
unintentionally hurting other people’s feelings,
your internalized sexism, ageism, racism, and other isms,
not being good at everything,
not understanding everything,
doing less walking yesterday because of the heat,
taking only one photo outside yesterday,
not getting a better shot of those ducks,
eating meat in a restaurant last night,
buying way too much Ferrero Rocher gelato,
being a daily bitch,
seeing monsters where they don’t exist,
being a monster at times,
having trust issues,
scaring Harley just by moving too quickly,
comparing Harley to your late, lamented kitty Oscar,
repeating yourself, and
spending too much time on Twitter.
I forgive you, Ann, for sharing this song for the umpteenth time.
I forgive you, Ann, for asking people to comment on your blog about their own experience with self-forgiveness.
I forgive you, Ann, for ending each blog in the same way, day after day.
I don’t know about you, but I definitely need tips to stay sane in the final days of the campaign for the U.S. November election. Here are some words I’ve been using about my mental state (and the mental states of others I’m encountering):
I’m writing this post (which will probably reach just beneath the surface) in the back seat of a car traveling on the surface of the highway to a group therapy conference in New York City. Earlier tonight, when a fierce snowstorm surfaced and obliterated any view of the road surface, the slippery surfaces almost caused us to give up the trip. Just as we were about to seek shelter from the storm at a motel (which on the surface seemed depressing and suspiciously overpriced), we decided to try navigating the road surfaces one more time. Amazingly, the surface of the roads suddenly changed from snow to rain.
When the snow was covering all the surfaces, we stopped and this surfaced beneath a slice of pizza:
Since we are now going to make it to the conference, I know we’ll be going far beneath the surface in the groups there.
Earlier in the day, I facilitated two groups where many topics came to the surface.
The topics of “gifts” and “self-forgiveness” rose to the surface in those groups.
This is what it looked like on the surface in Boston when we started our trip:
What’s going on for you, just beneath the surface?
For me, gratitude is always just beneath the surface, so thanks to all who helped me create all the surfaces of this post and — of course — YOU.
No offense, but do cats — modern or otherwise — really need a lifestyle magazine?
I don’t want to be judgmental, but people who say “No Offense” are often offensive.
I don’t want to listen to music, but I will anyway.
I don’t want to set the world on fire, but we could all use a little warmth.
I don’t want to end this post without expressing my sincere thanks to the Ink Spots, to everyone else who helped me write this post, and — of course! — to YOU.
I have a peaceful way of choosing my post titles: I look at my pictures from the day before.
Yesterday, I facilitated a therapy group, listened, talked, walked, observed, and settled in to our new home. As always, there were ways to peace in every moment.
Somebody in last night’s therapy group suggested that the way to peace was “forgiving self first.”
If somebody asked you to write, draw, or otherwise express your thoughts, feelings, and associations about “Life as a work of art,” what work of art might you create?
Last night, in a therapy group — after we discussed many topics including life, death, school, work, parents, what other people think, music, painting, injury, healing, routines, miracles, safety, self-care, imperfection, immortality, wishes, Alan Rickman, and David Bowie — I asked people to do just that.
Now, I shall attempt to turn my thoughts, feeling, associations, and other aspects of my life into a blogging work of art. Here are some artless and artful photos I took at work, yesterday:
How do you judge or create works of art?
Yes, thou art being asked to work your responses into a comment, bringing more life and art into this post.
Lifetime-work-in-progress thanks to all who helped me create today’s work of art and special thanks to you — of course! — for the living art you practice, every day.
I wonder how many more times I’ll write one of these?
Every time I have a thought like that last one, above, I think of time running out.
The time between my finishing that last sentence and starting this one = approximately two minutes.
Swarn Gill, who has commented on this blog many times and who has not visited for some time (I think the last time was here), often thinks and writes about time. I haven’t visited his blog for some time, either, but I just took the time to do that.
I wish I had more time to visit Swarn’s excellent blog and other ones here, too.
In the time I spend as an individual and group therapist, I invite people to give less time to guilt and shame. Many times, I’ve told people “You’re doing the best you can.” However, I continue to spend time having those feelings (although less time than I used to).
This reminds me that when I spent time yesterday writing a blog post, I did not include any time for music. I’m making up for that, today, times two.
(“No Absolute Time” by Jean-Luc Ponty is absolutely here on YouTube now.)
Is there time for you to comment, perhaps telling me your favorite song about time?
Today, I won’t have time to walk to and from work, listening to music, because I need to get to parent-teacher conferences at my son’s high school, on time. The first meeting starts, according to them, at
12:10:00
I wonder what that says about my son Aaron’s school’s concept of time?
Last year, around this time, I spent a lot of time thinking, feeling, and writing about November 22, 1963, the exact time when
John F. Kennedy was assassinated and
I got my first heart surgery and cardiac pacemaker, at age 10.
This year, that time will not be out of mind for me. However, I know my experience will be different, this time around.
Each time we go around and over old experiences, we do it differently.
Absolutely, I invite you to take the time to read this post, about that. People tell me, all the time, that “The Ascending Coil” a/k/a “The Spiral” helps them heal and grow. (The last time I heard that was yesterday.)
Yesterday, I was not thinking about writing a post about time, until I heard both “Time Out of Mind” and “No Absolute Time” during the time it took me to walk away from work. Nevertheless, before that time, I took the time to take these photos:
I took the time to snap that last picture when I thought that beloved time-keeper was broken, because that was NOT the correct time. It was the third time, since the time change this month, that clock had stopped.
Not for the first time, I felt fear: was my time with that wonderful clock over and done?
When I got some down time, I was able to make some changes to that clock.
I wonder what time I’ll see on its face when I walk into my office today?
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 