Ho’oponopono, “I love you, I am sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you.”
Always in search of finding new ways to heal myself and others, this is the latest method I’ve uncovered. Reciting these simple phrases stimulates the “Beam me up, Scotty” ride to the Divine in me; my spiritual energy on steroids. When experiencing negative emotion, repeating them brings me back to peace immediately. Ho’oponopono originated in Hawaii, which is on my destination bucket list because it seems like a beautiful sacred nature space. I see a visit in my future.
Raising my glass this week to publishers of writing journals, my fetish. I could be a featured star on one of those hoarder shows for all of the notebooks I have. My journals have taken on many forms from diaries to notebooks to bound volumes closed with snaps, magnets and ribbons. When the writing bug bites you as a toddler, there is no escape from what gets injected into your bloodstream, and you are forever destined to being drawn to paper writing vehicles. I try to avoid stores that have stationery aisles. It’s like bringing an alcoholic into a liquor store. The other day I was in The Christmas Tree Store and I was passing the card section silently demanding, “I will not buy a notecard set.” What I didn’t know was there was also an aisle full of journals. I investigated this “just to browse.” One minute later I was headed to the checkout with a perfect specimen. The cover, “Tropical Vibes” was surrounded by bright tropical flowers, perfect for my beach girl thoughts. Besides, I had a gift card. Two days later I’m in an art gallery gift shop (one would think this to be harmless for a journal addict) when I spot a book entitled, “I Need to Unplug.” My Myfi eye notices, and I pick it up, only to discover that it is a journal. On the left side of each entry is a quote related to unplugging. On the right, blank lines to write in. I grab it and run to the cashier. Part of me was ashamed that I did not resist temptation, yet I felt vindicated when my daughter later spotted the unplugging journal on the kitchen table and inquired, “Did you write that?” This will accompany me at sunset to record my moments of gratitude. Sunsets, by the way are also things I collect obsessively, yet they don’t take up room on my library shelves. I’m not sorry for my impulsive quirks. After all, I am a documentarian of written memories, and these journals are merely the physical ways of preserving them. Whether we accumulate money, shoes, purses, cars, magazines, whatever, we each have our ways to hold onto this physical life and we should enjoy them.
FROM THE SANCTUARY
I’m writing outside again in nature (bundled in layers). Warmer days are alternating with April showers, grass is greening and buds are appearing. Crocuses are out and the birds are pairing. The other day two robins were unashamedly getting real friendly on my front lawn. Frankie the foster dog curiously tormented a gorgeous garter snake (today’s blog photo) until I put her (the dog) inside. An upcoming call this week with the director of community wildlife habitats at the National Wildlife Federation will bring my home one step closer to a nature/mental health/writer sanctuary for public use as I prepare my Florida plans. So excited for this new development!
I also received the highest honor of my writing life so far. My memoir, Reconciliation of the Heart, will be featured on the Erma Bombeck’s Writers Workshop website. Erma was one of my greatest writing inspirations growing up, so this is an incredible privilege! She was a great lady, always with a joyful message. Check her out if you don’t recognize her name.
Just for fun: In my community education catalog offerings for the summer: “Straight Answers to Cremation.” They describe that as an interactive session. Can’t say that I’m dying to sign up for that class just yet!
To All, “I love you, I am sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you!” Be kind to all you encounter today.