More Ellen Moore

Moon, You are Huge! My Favorite Inspirational Moments

2011-10-13T11:35:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if y’all are noticing this, but it seems like life just keeps speeding up and getting stranger and stranger, more and more connected, more and more intensely entangled. Perhaps it’s simply the centrifugal force of the paradigm shift of 2012 picking up energy and sucking us in to the inevitable Something Else. To the end of the world, or to the beginning of what some visionaries call The Great Turning. Being a bit of an intuitive retard, I’m not sure what’s going on. But I can feel something happening.

Or perhaps it’s a personal experience that I, with the charming narcissism so prevalent in my generation, am assuming has global resonance. Whatevs, as my Generation Y roommate would say. I’m just really excited to tell you guys about one of my recent Top Favorite Spiritual Moments, cause it was so so awesome and I think, if I tell it right, you are gonna dig it.

It’s a beautiful evening in early fall. Just past midnight or so. Earlier, an unfairly huge juicy orange moon has risen up through the sky, threatening to take all of Colorado prisoner with its mysterious looming beauty. Now, although slightly less mysterious, it’s still hanging out, basking in its own perfection, like, “Hey. Yeah. I’m the Freakin’ MOON, fool. What you lookin’ at?”

The air is crisp, clean, cool but not cold. I’m sitting on the balcony of my townhouse, looking out onto the mellifluous night and the quiet street below, free of cars for the moment. The night is hushed, waiting, lurking with hidden potential, and I am one with this night. I am in an unusual state of mind, or rather, occupying an unusual state of being—one that comes to me every now and then.

This state has something to do with meditation, something to do with clearing my consciousness of the Business as Usual Ellen Nonsense that tends to go on. For a moment, sometimes many moments in a row, I am free of my story. True, I have done terrible things. I have also done good things. I have made horrendous mistakes and probably am making more as I speak. (Did I mention that earlier I blew off writing my class syllabus so I could watch VH-1’s 100 Greatest Songs of the 00’s? Yeah, I know. But look, does my class really need to know what we’re going to do in this workshop as much as I need to know the back story behind Kellis’s 2003 “My Milkshake Brings All the Boys to the Yard”?)

But somehow, in this particular state of being, none of this matters.

Nature, we are told, abhors a vacuum. Into the temporary vacuum of my non-judgment, all kinds of strong emotion pour in. I feel myself filling up with something huge, warm, and spacious, something that runs through the center of my chest like bourbon, only better. I look at the moon with awe, and remember another Giant Moon: Athens, Greece, 1987. I am on a European vacation with my art class and Bob, who is from Germany, looks up at the spectacular moon looming immediately over our heads and lifts his drink to it, “Moon! You are Yoooge! (translation: “Huge!”) For those of us present, this becomes a favorite toast for years.

As I sit on my balcony, here, in 2011, I am filled with love for that moon of 1987, for the people who were there with me, people who tonight are grownups scattered all over the world, grownups writing checks for mortgages and begging their children to do their homework. I am full of love for their houses and their children and for this moon, the moon that floats gently above us all.

Actually, to tell the truth, I am full of love in general. Wow. Where did all this come from? For just this moment I can look on everything around me with astonishment and wonder—all surrounding objects have dropped their ordinary pretense of “hey, yeah, so I’m a tree—big deal.” Instead, they shimmer with clarity and possibility and intention, with the power of something ELSE no longer hidden. I look and feel more love. Then more love. My love rises up to meet that love and becomes more than that. I am overwhelmed with love, and I must tell someone.

“I love you!” I whisper to the trees, to the moon. “Oh, I love you! I love you!” I whisper to the night, to the planet, to the Universe. I feel all of us—me, the trees, the moon, the night, my old friends, Bob, the children and their homework—all of us pulsing together as one fluid heartbeat: “I love you! I love you! I love you!”

At this exact moment, a lone car shoots past on the street below. A man is yelling at someone on a cell phone, his window open. “I hate you, you f*****g bitch!”

I love this. It is perfect. I love this man for providing the perfect point of contrast to all this love—and for allowing me to observe that this love is large enough to include the man and his anger and obscenities. I love that the Universe brought us together at this precise intersection of each of our emotional lives. “I love you too, you f*****g a**hole!” I say to the man, now long gone down the street. “I love you! I love you! Thank you! I hope you and your girl make up!”

I’m pretty sure they made up. After all, there’s a lot of love available, some of it from sources you would not expect.

Summertime, Spirituality, and Tanorexia

2011-07-02T12:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Superfriends! How is this beautiful summertime treating you?

I want to apologize for my long absence from this blog. Terrible things have come into my life since last we were together. There’s nothing worse than when you make a bunch of plans to create things and have success and get people excited and then THOSE THINGS COME TRUE. I’m just saying, I had WAAAY more time to blog when the only other competition for my attention was my next spiritual webinar(love you Vishen Lakhiani!) or MTV’s Jersey Shore.

And speaking of Jersey Shore, it’s probably just as well that I don’t have too much time to watch it because it really exacerbates my condition. As those of you who have known me since high school or college are aware, summer is tough for me because I suffer from extreme Tanorexia.

For those of you not familiar with this condition, let me explain. We who suffer from this debilitating disease report being swept by frequent feelings of “not tan enough.” This condition affects its victims on spiritual as well as emotional and physical levels, and is especially dangerous for those of us who came of age during the heyday of Baywatch.

Oh, sure, for a while, you can distract yourself with new clothes or adorable fuzzy animals or addressing your friend’s latest obsessive outrage (I have a friend who has an infinite capacity for outrage and she really keeps me busy). You can even choose to meditate on the Divine Love whose purple velvety majesty keeps this Universe expanding into ever greater dimensions.

And it works. For a while. And then you see Pauly and Vinny and Snookie and you look down at your slightly graying white legs poking out of your slightly graying white shorts and the compulsion rears its ugly head: “GTL! GTL! GTL!” (that’s “Gym, Tan, Laundry” for those uninitiated in the pleasures of Jersey Shore).

I have another friend who pointed out that I am forty-one years old and maybe it’s time I moved on to more mature obsessive compulsions. And I do my best. The reason I haven’t been writing for this blog for such a long time is that I am now writing for three others which actually have something to do with my getting paid and thus being able to support myself. I am actually becoming somewhat obsessed with supporting myself, which, believe me, is not an obsession that’s troubled me too much in this lifetime.

Mostly I like to be supported by others. First it was my family. Then it was my universities and the Ridiculously Generous Souls of the student loan system (three college degrees can buy a LOT of Nordstrom, Anthropologie, and DSW!). Then it was my former husband. Then I turned to Law of Attraction and learned that God and the Universe wanted to support me. So I decided to let God do that by allowing me to win the lottery. God told me to get a job and He/She would let me know about the lottery real soon.

Sigh.

Oh Well, as my dad would say.

My dad Matthew Melko Jr. died last summer at about this time. He was the ultimate Jersey Shore boy, having grown up spending his summers in Seaside Heights, where the show is filmed. I asked him once whether the Jersey Shore had changed much since his heyday in the fifties. And he said that although cultural norms had changed (back then you didn’t, for example, have sex with people in dance clubs as a matter of course), he was glad to see that Seaside and Jersey were just as tacky and pointless and strangely beautiful as ever.

Whether you are tan or not tan, whether you are on speaking terms with God and the Universe or not, whether you love the beach or the mountains or the mall, I salute you and wish you an amazing summer. It’s good to be back.

Outsource My Worry

2010-10-09T13:01:00.000-07:00

So, I’m reading this great book by a simmering wunderkind genius named Timothy Ferris. It’s called The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich.

I know. Right. Right? But doesn’t that title kinda make you salivate, just a little bit? Or, perhaps, depending on your current relationship with your work and your finances, it kinda makes you long to collapse in your recliner with annoyance and a bag of Skittles. Or maybe, if you’re feeling extra discouraged, it awakens a desire to go ahead and get your medical marijuana card. After all, you’ve put at least four hours of work into avoiding your work already this week. Must there be more? These damn kids today. . .

A provocative disclaimer shouts from the top of the back jacket cover: “WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS BOOK UNLESS YOU WANT TO QUIT YOUR JOB”

As my friend Olga would say, “Indeed.”

I won’t go into all the surprisingly wise and practical suggestions this book offers right now. Because that would require my doing the actual work of analyzing and condensing for you. And frankly, well, I think there’s a new episode of Family Guy available online. Also, I have to consider the best possible giant fuzzy boots for fall.

But I do want to touch on a brilliant concept from Ferris’s chapter on “Outsourcing Life: Off-Loading the Rest and a Taste of Geoarbitrage.” (I’m afraid I simply do not have the resources at the present time to explain this last term, else I get lost down a rabbit hole of my own giant fuzzy economic ignorance).

Ferris, a passionate advocate of personal outsourcing, cleverly outsources this chapter itself to another writer, AJ Jacobs, editor-at-large at Esquire magazine. Jacobs, in turn, explains how he was influenced by another Outsourcing Opus, the best-selling The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman, to outsource low-end tasks of his own life. Paying bills, changing wireless services, finding his son a Tickle Me Elmo, apologizing to his wife, that sort of thing.

Delighted by his new Bangalore virtual personal assistant (pleasingly named Honey K. Balani), Jacobs decides to outsource his worry:

“For the last few weeks I’ve been tearing my hair out because a business deal is taking far too long to close. I asked Honey if she would be interested in tearing her hair out in my stead. Just for a few minutes a day. She thought it was a wonderful idea. ‘I will worry about this every day,’ she wrote. ‘Do not worry.’

“This outsourcing of my neuroses was one of the most successful experiments of the month. Every time I started to ruminate, I’d remind myself that Honey was already on the case, and I’d relax. No joke—this alone was worth it.” (Ferris, p.118)

AJ Jacobs you mad genius. I love this idea. More than anything else in life, I would vastly enjoy having Less Worry.

Seriously. I mean, sure, I want more money, more love, more freedom, more harmonious relationships, more shoes, more praise, more approval, more flowers flung by adoring fans as I walk, more of you admitting I am right and you are less right. . .

Yeah, pretty much more of everything.

And I’m a recovering junkie, so this is normal. We addicts definitely love our “More.” We love our More more than just about anything. But I don’t think we’re alone in this feeling. . . I think most of us desire. . .more. I think that’s just part of our design, part of how life evolves and unfolds, and “More,” while not necessarily “better,” isn’t necessarily bad.

But less?

Oh, in this case. Yes Oh Yes Oh Yes Oh Yes. Give me less worry. I am dying to outsource my worry! I am so excited to try this. But I don’t yet have a virtual assistant, in Bangalore or anywhere else?

Who should I ask?

Should I ask different people to worry about different aspects of my life? It doesn’t seem fair to load any one person down with all my shit. I am a skilled and gifted worrier—in fact, worrying is one of my most spectacular character assets.

I am also a very quiet worrier—don’t tend to share my worries out loud—so others, in general, don’t have to be disturbed by my worry until I begin to act out in totally unexpected and psychotic ways. Which is lots of fun for everyone involved.

Maybe I should offer to exchange worries with someone? If any of you would like to swap brooding obsessions, please let me know. One thing about my worries is that while the item in question may change, the general subject matter stays tediously consistent.

I have to worry about this a little more and then I’ll let you know. See you next week.

Much Love to All,

Ellen

2010-09-22T17:04:00.000-07:00

Spiritual Paths, or My Friend Marcus Likes Porn

The occupational hazards of being me. So freaking stressful. Here’s a warning to anyone out there who’s considering becoming one of those super-positive people. Or a guru. Or a life coach. Or any of that crap. Let me tell you, from my own experience, that once you start telling people they can be, do, or have anything they want, those people will start to bug the shit out of you about how to do it.

Now, that’s not really how I get down. I know that you can, in fact, be, do, or have. Isn’t that enough for you? Now I’m supposed to explain how that’s going to happen? As my virtual friend Allie (author of the greatest blog in the world, hyperboleandahalf.com) would say, “What am I, some kind of wizard?”

So I’m talking to my friend Marcus about how we are completely unlimited in our choices. Life in this realm, I have discovered—well, it’s pretty much just one big expanding holodeck. And if you don’t know what a holodeck is, then shame on you for neglecting your responsibilities—why didn’t you spend your youth smoking pot and watching Star Trek Next Generation?

In essence, we live in a world that is continually shaped by our beliefs. You may not believe this, in which case, your experiences will confirm that belief too. The universe really doesn’t mind if you choose to believe that your thoughts have absolutely nothing to do with the world that takes shape around you.

That’s why you gotta love the universe. It’s always like, “No problem. We can do that. Here’s your completely random grab bag of mixed unrelated events. Have a nice day!”

One of my core beliefs is that I have to work hard in order to make money. Somehow, money doesn’t seem very acceptable to me unless I am, on some level, earning it (usually in pitiful quantities) through my patient suffering. As it happens, I am an excellent patient sufferer. No one can suffer quietly as loudly and elegantly as I can.

So I’m talking to my friend Marcus about how I’m done with this nonsense. “From now on,” I tell him, “I want to lie in a hammock and make money.”

“How are you going to make money in a hammock?” He asks.

“The people will come to me.” I say. “I will lie in my hammock and the people will come. They will ask questions. I will dispense wisdom. Then they will weep with heartfelt gratitude, shower me with golden coins, and leave to go make improvements in their lives. Meanwhile, I will remain in my hammock.”

“I want to make money in a hammock,” Marcus says.

“You will lie next to me. In your own hammock. You can help me dispense wisdom.”

“I really want a flat screen television,” Marcus says, “If I’m going to be lying around in a hammock. And probably a lot of porn. Is that going to interfere with your dispensing of wisdom?”

“Ummm, no. I guess that’s okay. Can it just be mostly mainstream porn? I feel that the people might be distracted by a lot of transvestites. Or anal.”

“How much money do you think I can earn each day lying in a hammock watching porn?”

I think about this for a moment. “Hmmmm. I honestly don’t know. Will you be masturbating?” He gives me a look. “Okay, so that’s a yes. Well, I will pay you one thousand dollars a day to lie in a hammock next to mine, watching porn on your flat screen t.v. and, doing, you know, what feels right to you. This will be good for the people. You’ll be helping them out spiritually, big time.”

“How’s that?”

“I will tell the people: ‘Behold, look upon this man and see how free you truly are. For he imagined a life in which he watched pornography from a hammock, and got paid to enjoy it, and lo, it has come to pass. Think of this man when next you complain of your limited options, your meager talents. For who among you dared to dream like this man—this man of no discernible skills or abilities whatsoever—and still, he is nurtured by Divine Source. Still, he gets to live his dream.’ And the people will look upon you and realize that it is true.”

I’ll let you guys know once me and Marcus get our set-up. In the meantime, feel free to imagine and claim your own freaky goodness—even if it in no way resembles what other people perceive as good. I used to have a roommate who collected porcelain baby angel naked cupid dolls. I believe she even belonged to a club that sent a new one every month. This did not make sense to me. But it made sense to her.

The Source of All Things delights in our differences. So really, it is your spiritual responsibility to get out there and get started watching porn. Or Star Trek. Or baby angel naked cupid dolls. I can’t tell you what to choose. But I can tell you that your perfect unique choice makes the universe expand. . .

Thanks for all the kind emails. I'm glad to be back. See y'all soon.

Spiritual Challenges (aka "Other People")

2010-03-27T12:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, You Guys.

It's so amazing to write stuff, put it out there, and then have people WRITE BACK.

So, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Got some great questions/comments coming in from you folks. I will do my best to reply.

Jen from Colorado writes:

"Dear Ellen,

I believe it's important to love everyone, and I'm working hard on approaching people and interacting with them with love (rather than judgment, or sarcasm, say, like I usually do). But what about when the person is a dick? Or a soul-sucker? Or passive-aggressive? Or just boring? What is my spiritual and moral obligation there?"

Dear Jen,

Ohhhhh, good question. I am dying to find out what I'm going to come up with, cause frankly, my initial answer is "Jen, hell if I know."

This is one that trips me up quite a bit. When I'm by myself, I can often get into a pretty good Ninja Zen Master Zone. . . an emotional energy field of love, acceptance, and curious, pleasure appreciation and anticipation.

Left alone to stew in my own meditational juices, I occasionally hit a plateau where it feels like nothing anybody says or does will ever bother me again.

I can feel how funny it is that I ever thought it mattered.

And this blissful state will last forever, because it is the truth, and I am ringing with it, gently, like a deep and happy bell. It will last into all realms of eternity, all reaches of time and space. . .

Except for the convergence of time and space where my boyfriend calls me up to tell me about the latest computer software he's coveting at Best Buy. . . but he really can't afford it. But he really wants it. But he can't really afford it. But what if he were to budget for it? Do I know how amazing this new technology is? Do I realize what he could do if he just went ahead and bought it anyway? Should he buy it anyway? Maybe he'll buy it and try it and then maybe take it back later.

I love him, but I am also longing to kick him to death.

What is my moral/spiritual obligation here?

What is the appropriate spiritual response to my neighbor, Carl, who's always coming over to chat in the middle of the day? He's a nice man, actually, basically a good guy.

But he also drinks with admirable dedication. He's got a beer in his hand pretty much every second he's conscious. And he's got a gift for long, surprisingly detailed (yet curiously vague) stories that take a lot of plot and character exposition. About things that happened thirty years ago, back when he was a hell-raisin' high-school youth. These kids today, it seems, don't know shit from shine-ola. I haven't told him yet that I would be hard-pressed to identify shine-ola myself. But, in any event, the important point is that things were different back then, back when people knew their ass from their elbow.

I get in this weird cycle of listening because I feel tuned in to his essential goodness, and also to his profound loneliness, but underneath my apparent empathy I'm starting to become quietly, deeply insane with boredom. I would rather be doing something else.

I wish I could say that that "something else" is my work, or meditating on the Divine, or actively engaging my creativity, but honestly, listening to Carl talk makes me long violently to be reading Us Weekly, or to be experimenting with parting my hair on the left side instead of the right.

I mean, spiritually speaking, how does this scenario fit in with offering love at all times?

And these are people I basically like.

What about people I don't like at all?

Reading Emmet Fox's The Sermon on the Mount, and came across this bit:

"People. . . have been under the erroneous impression that to forgive a person means you have to compel yourself to like him. Happily, this is by no means the case--we are not called to like anyone whom we do not find ourselves liking spontaneously, and, indeed it is quite impossible to like people to order. You can more like to order than you can hold the winds in your fist, and if you endeavor to coerce yourself into doing so, you will finish by disliking or hating the offender more than ever."

Thus speaketh Emmet, and I think he has a good point here. But is it truly possible to "love" someone that you don't really like? What does that feel like?

If anyone out there has direct experience of this phenomenon, please, please post a comment or email me at moreellen888@gmail.com.

Jen, I gotta think about this one some more. I'll check back with you guys next week.

Namaste. Or, as my friend Toby says, "Narcisste." Which means, "The narcissist in me judges and rejects the narcissist in you." Give it a try!

Conversation with My Passion, Part Deux

2010-03-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

Greetings, My Interweb Brethren.

Got a lot of interesting comments from you guys about the conversation between me and My Passion.

For those of you who have not the pleasure of knowing of what I'm speaking, in an earlier post I wrote about initiating a conversation with my Creative Passion, based on a recommendation from metaphysical guru Wayne Dyer.

Dr. Dyer advises that we think of our passion as the Source of Creative Energy within us, that we visualize talking to It, asking It questions, taking It for walks while we hold hands. I followed this advice and found my Passion extremely (almost maniacally) enthusiastic and chatty.

Many of you reported that you also have been speaking with Your Creative Passion, and that strangely, Your Creative Passion and My Creative Passion sound a lot alike.

Which, frankly, is making me kinda suspicious. Do you think all of our Creative Passions get together for Motivational Seminars? Maybe they call the Most Persuasive Creative Passions to the stage and give them Inspirational Gift Baskets?

Oh, that would just be so typical of My Creative Passion to get involved in some shit like that. My Passion is probably involved in a Multi Level Marketing pyramid to make money on the energy of other people's Creative Passions.

Which I guess is. . . good, now that I think about it. But on the other hand, I'm the one hosting My Passion. This is my house! And there are rules. Well, okay, I'll admit we're not too organized yet, but I could call in one of those organizational experts, or Supernanny, or somebody, and then--well, I don't know. Yet.

All I'm saying is that if My Creative Passion is racking up the power points in vibrational reality, I just want a cut. And I don't think I should settle for extra cell phone minutes or 10% off a Vegas vacation.

Oh, and by the way: Did you know that Vegas is like a ghost town these days? Apparently President Obama advised Americans to stay away from gambling in these tough times. From what I've heard the mayor of Las Vegas is maaaaaaaad.

But back to the topic at hand: spiritual vs. physical manifestation. You know, if I've learned one thing from all these spiritual self-help books I read, it's that the most important question in life is "Where's my stuff?" (Eckhart Tolle just called and he wants his Power of Now flash cards back).

All right. I'm getting to the bottom of this right now. I'm calling My Passion, that sneaky bugger, and we'll find out what's really up:

ME: Hey. You. Creative Passion. You there?

MY PASSION: Heyyyy! It's you! Are you ready to create? Do you want to go for another walk? Do you want to hold hands again?

ME: Can it, Twinkles. I want to know what's going on over there in Non-Physical Energy World. I've been talking to my friends and I'm starting to think you're cheating on me.

MY PASSION: Oh really?

ME: Yeah. You know, you're all super-sweet when it comes to me being your favorite person and all, but how come all you're telling all my friends the same thing? Your milkshake bring all the boys to the yard? Is that what it's all about for you?

MY PASSION: You really need to get a grip. Seriously. I think it's time to cut back on Tool Academy and Charm School. In fact, you might want to take a little break from all of VH-1 for a while.

ME: Nice deflection, Toots. Fess up. I can take it. Are you out there inspiring other people when I'm not paying attention?

MY PASSION: No way. I am your One and Only PERSONAL Creative Passion. Everybody gets his or her own. No Take-backs, No Sharesies. It is true, however, that we all share a common mission.

ME: Oh yeah? What's that?

MY PASSION: We want you to love yourselves so much that you can't help communicating that love exactly as you are specifically designed to do.

ME: Oh. Well. Okay.

MY PASSION: You, for some reason, were designed occasionally to express your love through an incredibly inappropriate sense of humor. Like how you met Oprah Winfrey and did that riff on how gigantic her head is. Wasn't that fun?

ME: Oh yeah, she loved that.

MY PASSION: And what about that time you wrote your boyfriend that song about his cat getting feline leukemia? Now, that was creative.

ME: And hilarious! But only cause he worries so much.

MY PASSION: See? That's how it is. That's how the Universe expands, because of creations like that.

ME: The Universe expands because of feline leukemia?

MY PASSION: No, because of your unique perspective on each and every event. You chose to concentrate your attention into this physical form, and now here you are, having life experiences. And every life experience you have enriches the Universe, because the Universe expands through you! Which is awesome! And we all appreciate you soooo much! And don't worry because that's exactly what Every Single Person is doing here! And they all have personal Creative Passions to help them! And I'm probably not supposed to tell you but sometimes we DO get together and just brag and brag and brag about you guys. You all are so amazing! All of you, but especially you, Ellen, especially you. Do you remember that time you wanted to create a line of Spiritually Incorrect Affirmation Cards? Now THAT was a hoot. Or what about the time you wanted to--

(Here, again, I had to hang up on My Passion. Because I was afraid it was about to say something really embarrassing. But you get the general idea.)

Me and My Passion: What Would Wayne Dyer Say?

2010-02-17T17:59:00.000-08:00

Hey Y'all.

So, I'm reading Wayne Dyer's Excuses Begone! (that Wayne, I'm telling you. I totally want to hook up with that Magic Publishing Water he and Deepak Chopra appear to be swilling. You could build entire structures with just one copy of each of their many books. Probably be a pretty solid structure, too).

In the chapter on "Passion," Wayne says:

"It may be helpful to think of your passion as the presence of the creative Source inside you. Talk to this invisible yet tangible presence within and thank it for never abandoning you. Go for walks with it and imagine holding hands with it. Ask it questions and listen to what it has to say, making mental notes of how it is directing you. Feel enormous gratitude for the reality of this presence, and allow it to guide you in any way it wishes."

Fair 'nuff. I decided to sit down and have a chat with My Passion and see what's on Its mind.

ME: Hey. What's going on?

MY PASSION: Dude, not a whole lot. How come you're not doing any writing? What about your book? What about your blog?

ME: Ahhhhh, I dunno. Don't really feel like it. Gotta lot of stuff to do, you know, the whole work thing.

MY PASSION: I see. So, work. And searching for the perfect skinny jeans. And keeping up with Kim Kardashian and the Brangelina thing is really taking it out of you, I guess.

ME: Okay, now, see, when you put it like that it just seems lame. I'll have you know I lead a very complex and rich and rewarding life, and I do lots of cool stuff. I do lots of stuff for other people, too.

MY PASSION: Yes. Other people are nice, aren't they? I really admire you and all you do for others.

ME: Thank you. Finally. You see, that wasn't too hard, was it? Just a little bit of validation now and then.

MY PASSION: Indeed. But I, for one, have been really missing you. I'm getting kinda restless just hanging out in here all full of wonderful energy, incredible ideas, magnificent blessings, all these delicious, desirable, delirious vibrations! I'm psyched you want to hang out!

ME: Oh, I do, I do. I'd sorta forgotten how inspiring you can be. I like the inspiration a lot. It's really awesome. But could you maybe think about arranging it so I don't have to do any actual work? Writing is a lot of hard work. I mean, maybe not for you. But for me, well, it's cool and all, but it's kinda tiring. Right now I'm already feeling like eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and taking a nap.

MY PASSION: Go ahead! I'm just glad you're talking to me! And when you wake up I have so many amazing thoughts for you to write about! I'll help you every step of the way! I am Your Muse, baby, your one and only Personal Muse, and we are going to have so much fun! We came into this particular Life Experience PRECISELY to create these specific things together! It's Our Destiny! The Source Within Us is simply panting with anticipation of Our Magnificence! You are my favorite person in the whole world! Let's go out and--

ME: Wow, you are pretty darn perky, aren't you? Anybody ever tell you that you're a little, you know, a little much? I appreciate your enthusiasm, but could you maybe take it down just a notch?

MY PASSION: (silence)

ME: Yeah, that's what I thought. Listen, don't take it too hard. I do appreciate you. I really do. And we will talk again. Soon.

MY PASSION: Yes! That's going to be so great! And we're going to go for a walk, right? Wayne Dyer said you should take me for a walk! That will be so, so, so fun! We can go look at leaves and dogs and snow and people's houses and the geese at the park! Oooo, can we go look at the geese at the park?

ME: Real soon, buddy. Real soon.

MY PASSION: YEAAAA! Can we go after your nap?

ME: Mos def, my friend. After my nap. Or real soon, maybe tomorrow. And we'll get crackin' on that whole book thing. And write some more blog posts.

MY PASSION: OMG! I just can't wait!!

ME: Talk to you soon, friend. Be good to yourself.

MY PASSION: Oh, I will! And I'll be good to you too! You are going to be so fired up! Just wait til you see what we can do! Remember that one time you wanted to write that book making fun of yourself and all the spiritual Self Help books you read? It's going to be soooooo funny and people are going to laugh sooooo much. But also be inspired, you know, laughing but not in a mean way. And you know that we can start with--

(At this point, I had to hang up on My Passion, because I was afraid It was never going to shut up. But I must admit, Wayne did have a point. I'll let you know how this relationship goes. I guess I'm going to have to, because now that I'm talking to My Passion again, looks like I'm going to blog. But you spiritual bastards better write back so I don't have to talk to It all the time. I'm telling you; I'm flat worn out from that exchange. Until next time, Be Well and Be Easy on yourselves, people. Over and out.)

Expand Into Your Joy, Grasshopper!

2009-10-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

As my friend Tammie says, going on a spiritual journey should come with a warning label. Perhaps a Surgeon General of the Universe ought to put a label on our earthly packs of mental cigarettes.

WARNING: THE DIVINE SURGEON GENERAL HAS DETERMINED THAT SPIRITUAL AWAKENING CAN BE DANGEROUS TO YOUR FRAGILE SENSE OF IDENTITY AND YOUR FIRM CONCEPTION OF REALITY. ALSO, ONCE YOU START ON THIS PATH YOU CANNOT GO BACKWARDS. OH, YOU'LL WANT TO GO BACK, FROM TIME TO TIME. BUT YOU CAN'T. HAVE A NICE DAY!

It's kind of like The Matrix. Once you meet Morpheus and he gives you the blue pill (or is it the red pill?) you start to see the crazy insane huge expansive dynamic energy field that's holding us all together. And once you've seen it, you can't just NOT see it. Oh, I agree, you can try. You can try all you want, but you're going to KNOW differently. And that, my friends, is what waking up to True Reality is all about.

The interesting thing is that it doesn't really seem to matter what handle you grab ahold of. You can awaken within a scientific tradition just as beautifully as within a spiritual tradition. I can run all over the place talkin' smack about Getting Right With Jesus, and you can scamper around babbling about finding your true self with Myers-Briggs, and eventually, if our hearts and minds get cracked open just the tiniest bit, we will both expand into more joyful beings.

Choose whatever concept, whatever label, whatever metaphor makes your heart feel bigger and your mind feel energized. I love what Elizabeth Gilbert says about this in her amazing spiritual-journey memoir Eat, Pray, Love. She's at an ashram, in India, meditating and judging her meditation something fierce. She's trying to find her Authentic Center and simultaneously feeling horribly inadequate that her Assigned Mantra is making her crazy, crazy, crazy. And then all of a sudden the famous line from Jaws pops up in her consciousness, and she can't help cracking a goofy smile. "We're going to need a bigger boat."

So go ahead. Get yourself a bigger boat. There's a big freakin shark out there. Or rather, in here. If your shark is anything like mine, it's hungry, relentless, and pissed. It's the shark of Ego, munching away at your giant, juicy soul. It's the shark of Fear and Judgment, crunching down on your happy little hopes. You can keep feeding it fingers and toes and other non-essentials if you want, but believe me, it's going to keep circling back whenever there's chum in the water.

We are born to be the joyous creators of our own wonderful experience. And we are all creating, all the time. And then, for most of us, we look at our creations and say "Crap! I don't want that! Get that thing away from me!"

Fair enough. Choose something new, something crisp and fresh and tantalizing to chew upon with your own magnificent jaws. There's always this perfect present moment in which you can step into a new boat of consciousness. Oh, the Great White Ego will come swimming after you, its menacing fin piercing through the shining waters of your Being, but it's best not to take it too seriously. Just keep building your boat and let that poor bastard tire itself out.

Overwhelmed by Blog Money Making Info

2009-10-16T13:47:00.000-07:00

Holy Freakin Cripes Batman!

How do you people do this? I've just spent the last several hours researching "Blogging for Fun and Money," and I feel like my brain is slowly collapsing in upon itself.

The internet is truly the most prolific, glorious, festering haystack that our species has ever dreamed up--and let's be honest, we've dreamed up a lot of haystacks (also known as "clusterfucks") in our brief time on earth. Meanwhile, my own little needle is feeling lost, lost, lost.

In the past couple of days I have explored the deep recesses of Hubpages, Squidoo, Isnare, Ebay, Ebooks, Ejunkies, Amazon, Paypal, Adsense, Ezinearticles, and once, by accident, Charles Bronson, but that's a whole different story.

My mission is fairly simple: I just want to write and make people laugh. Oh, and force people to be happy. Oh, and get paid for forcing people to be happy.

How hard can it be?

According to my friends Abraham and Buddha and Jesus and Wayne Dyer and Bob Proctor (and also my surrogate mom Carol and next-door neighbor Sharon) it ISN'T that hard. It isn't hard at all for the Universe to shower me with joy, success, and abundant creativity. It's just hard for me to accept, because I don't believe I deserve these things.

I don't think I'm good enough. And until I do, well, I will, in effect, prove myself right. One way or the other.

The Universe is so agreeable that it will support me either way. If I'm saying, "This is wonderful! There's so much good information here! It's going to be easy for me to start making money with my unique gifts!" The Universe replies, "Rock on, Babe! Here, let me give you some more stuff to confirm that feeling!" If I'm saying, "This is too much for me; I'm overwhelmed; I'm not good enough or smart enough to do this." The Universe says, "Hey, no problem! I can totally provide situations, people, and experiences that will add to that belief!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what being Cut Off from Divine Reality feels like. Call it God, call it your Higher Power, call it Intuition, call it Fate, call it Ayn Rand--the All Being of Everything doesn't mind. It likes you anyway, and all it asks for is this one little thing in return:

"See yourself as I see you, and be happy."

Oh, and for anyone curious about The Way of Mastery, you can get more information at www.thewayofmastery.org.

The Way of Mastery

2009-10-15T13:34:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Spiritual Bunnies of the Cosmos.

Wow. I gotta tell you, weird stuff starts to happen when you open yourself up to the Divine in All Its Forms. I'm pretty open these days. In fact, I'm kind of a Cheap Easy Date when it comes to anything wrapped in a "spiritual" package. This occasionally has its downsides. For example, I really don't want to talk about the multi-level marketing spiritual transformation system I purchased for only $1,595 plus tax. But mostly, it just makes life more and more fascinating.

Granted, I am fairly easily fascinated. I really enjoy restaurants that have large selections of sugar packets and liquid creamers waiting on the table so I can make condiment sculptures. We all have our personal muse, do we not?

I met a new friend through the internet who invited me to a Mastery Group. I accepted the invitation eagerly because I thought it was a Master Mind Group. My vague impression is that Master Mind Groups are where people get together for the purpose of communing with other like-minded, goal-oriented souls who want to achieve stuff. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe they're just groups for like-minded, goal-oriented people to get together and play that game with the little multi-colored pegs where you get ten tries to guess right. Oooo, I love that game! But I digress.

When I arrived, I discovered that this particular gathering is actually a "Way of the Mastery" study group. The Way of Mastery is, among other things, a book, and the group is, among other things, a book group that studies this book. Here's what the book has to say about itself:

"A Guide to Awakening in Christ Mind: This volume contains the extraordinary teachings of Jesua ben Joseph (Jesus) as given over a three-year period through Jon Marc Hammer. These teachings were originally published in 1997 and known only to a small number of people. For the first time, The Way of Mastery is available as one volume, beautifully presented, to be read and cherished for a lifetime as that "way home" taught to Jesua Himself and now offered to the world."

Indeed. Well now. At this point I hadn't started to read the book, and I don't know anything about Jon Marc Hammer, but I am already burning with low-grade envy. Oh, and skepticism, let's not forget that. Really? REALLY?? You're just sitting around, Jon Marc, and JESUS shows up to tell you a thing or to? Of course, Neale Donald Walsh has a whole series called Conversations With God, where he, you know, converses with the Big Kahuna, but somehow that's easier for me to swallow. Even a very brief look at world religions will tell you that there seems to be quite a few different versions of God. In effect, you could say that everybody's got his or her own version. Like God is one of those ceramic lawn geese you see in the American midwest. People dress their lawn goose up in all different kinds of costumes, depending on season and holiday, but underneath, it's pretty much the same goose all the time. Jesus, though, somehow he seems more personal. More specific.

I am amused to observe that my first reaction is vague Puritan outrage. What happened to the good old days when we could just send these jokers to the Dunking Stool? I am even more amused to observe the secondary reaction of envy. I am so positive that IF I am ever chosen to receive the teachings of a non-physical energy, it's not going to be anyone like Jesus. I would probably get someone like. . .like. . . I don't know, what's that Mormon dude's name? I'm not bagging on the Mormons, mind you, but it would suck for me because I am very fond of my fully caffeinated Diet Coke each morning.

Okay. So, this isn't my first time at the Self Awakening Circus. So I know that those two emotions--envy and outrage--are the dubious gifts of Ego. And while my ego-self feels momentarily threatened by this book, this group, my True Self just sits back and crosses its legs in the shade, laughing at me. "Well, what are you going to do now?"

I sit with the group, and for two hours I participate in one of the best philosophical discussions I have ever experienced. And it's not just the verbal wordplay that's ringing my bells. There's an (Oh God, how I have grown tired of this word, but still!) ENERGY that's whipping round the room like a. . . like a. . . shit, I don't have the right metaphor handy. But it's powerful, this feeling. I'm watching the faces around me in the dusky light, and as these people read aloud and talk and laugh, they are starting to glow.

Someone reads a passage from the book's first chapter, and I feel strange things happening inside my chest. I feel like the plates in my brain are shifting. Until next time, I leave you with this passage. And no matter who you think it's from, I hope it does weird and wonderful things to you, too.

"Take a deep breath into the body and let it go. As the breath leaves the body, hold the thought that there is nothing worth holding onto any longer that keeps your peace and happiness at arm's length. Become committed--fully committed--to the experience of happiness, even as you have been fully committed to unhappiness, limitation, and lack. Give your Creator full permission to sweep the basement clean. There really is not anything down there worth defending or protecting."

Me and Abraham Hicks, Part 2

2009-10-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

Hey All You Freaky Seekers Out There, This One's for You!

The phrase above just whisked me back to the television of my childhood, old Budweiser commercials from the late seventies to early eighties. "Here's to you/For all you do/This Bud's for you!" It was a catchy little song, and then you got to see a lot of cowboys and construction workers and other aspirational archetypes working up a sweat and then bonding with beer away from their womenfolk, happy as clams. (By the way, what's up with that expression? Why is the clam reputed to be so happy?)

Boy, I am REALLY tempted right now to go off on some more appropriate images to go with that song for a new Budweiser campaign (Man drunkenly beats Baby Mama, gets DUI, discovers Inner Child through 12 step meetings) but that is not what I promised you for today. No, for today I promised you "Abraham and Your Feelings." And that's what you're going to get, so quit your whining, you tangential little buggers. Remember, there's no crying in baseball, and there's no crying in Spiritual Awakening, either. Wellllll. . . okay, there IS some crying, from time to time, but as long as you're truly ashamed of yourself, God will look the other way.

As I was sharing with you the other day, Abraham is a non-physical collective of vibrational beings who choose to vibrate together for the purpose of communicating with us. Mostly they do this through their self-titled collection of books presented by Esther and Jerry Hicks, which you can find on Amazon or at www.abraham-hicks.com. (No, I am not receiving kickbacks from Abraham or the Hickses--yet--but I am certainly open to any and all offers to sell my soul, so please email if interested) So, apparently, some of us made a deal with Abraham to get together in this lifetime, so they could remind us of stuff that we had forgotten, but they remember. And we knew we might forget, so before we came we made this deal so we'd be reminded about forgetting, something something something, we are all extension of God, reality-creating machines. Something like that.

In their series of books, talks, and seminars on the Law of Attraction, the group of folks who make up Abraham keep harping on two points. The first is the absolute absoluteness of the Law of Attraction, Like can only get together with Like. And the second is the absolute reliability of our perfect guidance system, our emotional GPS. We each come with this Onstar-type GPS system built into our mainframe, and hence we can always tell, moment to moment, what type of reality we are manufacturing. When we feel good, we are attracting good things--and more specifically, good things according to our PERSONAL definition of what is good. So, for example, you might feel good when you are are attracting a solution for putting shoes on Argentinian orphans, and I might feel good when I am attracting a supersale at Designer Shoe Warehouse. That's one thing about the Law of Attraction that I really appreciate. It's not all preachy and judgmental.

According to Abraham, when we feel bad, it's because feeling bad is SUPPOSED to feel bad. We feel bad because we are giving our attention to something that is not the Truth of Our Being. Specifically, we are giving our attention to an aspect of something that does not please us. And we can tell the difference; we can FEEL the difference. "Little kids in Argentina without shoes." That feels bad. "TOM's Shoes gives a free pair to a little kid in Argentina every time I buy a pair of shoes!" This feels good. See? Now you can start practicing for yourself!

And once you do, boy, things get interesting. This whole very weird shift starts to happen. You start to realize that it's ALL you, it's ALL your perspective. And you can't help noticing when you are looking at something or someone, and thinking, "I don't like you. I would like you to be different so that I can enjoy observing you." You start to look for things you do like. You start to look like your life depends on it. Which, in fact, it does.

How ya like them apples?

Awakened Masters Agree: All is Well, So Just Accept Goodness, Damnit!

Me and Abraham Hicks, Part 1

2009-10-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Fellow Travelers.

So. It's time I reveal the shameful truth lurking at the heart of my current "spiritual" mindset. Are you ready? OK, here it is: I base the majority of my decisions on the teachings of a "collective" of "non-physical entities" channeled by a housewife from Phoenix. Yes, that's what I said. Wanna fight about it?

Well, even if you don't, I kinda do. If you had told me a couple of years ago that my most beloved teacher would be a fuzzy group named Abraham whose big obsession is Vibrational Fequencies, I would have guessed that one or both of us was in serious need of psychological help. And yet, here we both are. Me, totally psyched about Abraham, and you, totally forced to read my blogging love. Doesn't quite seem fair, does it? And yet. And yet. As much as my critical analytical mind is saying, "Who the f**k are you and what have you done with Ellen?" My heart, that capricious whimsical beast, is soooo grateful that Abraham and I have found each other.

We've got a lot of terrific inspirational teachers, gurus, and avatars to choose from these days, and I'm a huge fan of their work--I love Eckhart Tolle, and Byron Katie, and Wayne Dyer, and Elizabeth Gilbert, and even Deepak Chopra (Dude, I'm so sorry I insulted you with that flying carpet comment when you came to speak at Mile High Church, but you and I both know that's a story for another day). But there's nobody I love quite like I love Abraham.

Abraham's perspective is made possible by a lovely couple named Jerry and Esther Hicks. Here's the back story on these crazy kids: Jerry, the husband, always a seeker, one of life's troublemakers always wanting to know how and why things worked. Interested in spirituality, mysticism, ouija boards, psychics, Napoleon Hill and Thinking and Growing Rich, etc., etc. Esther, the wife, much more of a natural born happy person, was freaked out by many of Jerry's interests, especially paranormal phenomena, had vague feelings that all this stuff was evil and not to be messed with. Then the two of them had a wonderful experience with a medium named Jane Roberts (the Seth Books gal)--the stuff this person brought to them came from a place of such love and wisdom that Esther realized it couldn't be anyone or anything bad. Shortly after this, much to her great surprise, Esther began receiving communication from her own spiritual guide, an extremely helpful and encouraging group of beings who call themselves Abraham. For the past 20-something years, Jerry and Ester have been pimping Abraham out to the world through a series of seminars and books, God bless their bold little souls.

You can get the full story on Abraham and all their multi-media offerings at www.abraham-hicks.com. But for now, let me tell you that what they have to say about the nature of our reality, about the Law of Attraction, about the Art of Allowing, is truly kind of amazing. In fact, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and cheer. If your neck hair isn't into that sort of thing I'm sure it's just a personal hygiene choice, so no big deal. Anyway, Abraham is pretty persuasive on the absolute nature of the Law of Attraction. According to them, we live in a vibrational universe; everything is made out of an energy that vibrates at a cetain frequency. Like is always getting together with Like, while at the same time keeping apart from Unlike. Our thoughts have a frequency that acts like a magnet. We attract the essence of our predominant thought "signature," if you will. For those of us who are thinking love and wealth and creativity and success and happiness, this is good. For those of us thinking accidents and migraines and arguments and endless lines at Wal Mart, this is not so good.

Or, in other words, we create our lives by the stories we are telling, so it just might be in our best interests to start telling better stories about our potential experience.

So, Law of Attraction is absolute governing principle of Universe, yadda yadda yadda, have a nice day, have nice thoughts, or go ahead and burn in hell of your own twisted mind, whatever works for you. Abraham wants us to know that all this is, in fact, the truth, but their big thing is that we all come with a perfect customized GPS system. Our emotions, it turns out, are the really significant thing about everything. Or, as Obi Won Kenobi (is that how you spell his name?) was always saying, "Luuuuuke, Trust Your Feelingssss." I have to go back to my alleged real job right now, so tune in tomorrow to learn about Why You Feel Bad and Why You Should Feel Bad About This. It's going to be so fun! I promise!

Highly Evolved People Agree: It's Completely Your Fault That I Watched 10 Hours of VH-1 Yesterday.

The Divinity Within Me Goes on Vacation to a Cooler Person

2009-10-01T16:48:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about my friend Kira who used to have a father-in-law named Terry. Terry was apparently a "glass half-broken" kind of fellow who frequently expressed his frustration that Life Does Not Appear to be Fair. He was a persistent asker of the question, "Why, why, why does this ALWAYS happen to me?" I used to wet my pants laughing at Kira's representation of Terry's dramatically outraged angst, but I feel kinda bad about that today. Today, Terry, wherever you are, I feel ya, babe. I, too, would like an answer to this question, slightly revised. My question would be: "Why, why, why do I always do this to myself?"

So I've been truckin' along, trying to put my little life back together. A life that (in my previous incarnation) was fairly happy and successful and full of Pottery Barn accessories. Then, all of a sudden, I took a brief four-year detour to the grim village of Absolutely Crushing Depression and all its folksy tourist attractions--Despair, Divorce, Self-Loathing, Better Life Through Pharmaceuticals, those types of rides. Then something very bizarre and unexpected happened. I woke up one day and realized, oh well, screw it, I want to live anyway. I wonder if there's anything to this whole God rumor? I started meditating, and, much to my surprise and retroactive annoyance, God showed up. And He/She/It arrived with some very disturbing information: I am the creator of my reality. Always have been. Always will be. World Without End, Have a Nice Freakin' Day.

As the possessor of a fine and expensive Liberal Arts education, I have enjoyed extensive training in the art of being skeptical. It's kind of a requirement for the whole critical intellectual endeavor. So now I pester the God of My Understanding with questions pretty much every minute I'm awake. I bet Divine Source is totally psyched to add me to the roster. But no matter how I ask, God is pretty clear on the whole Thoughts Create Reality thing. This is a fundamental principle that some of you may know as the Law of Attraction. If you're not familiar with this delightful creative genesis, I recommend the movie The Secret for those of you on the spiritual-yet-materially greedy side of the fence. For those of you more tempted by the crazed incantations of quantum physics, check out the mind-altering What the Bleep Do We Know? But the short story is this. Everything that shows up in your life comes knocking on the door because you have invited it over. With your thoughts. Did you know that your thoughts were calling up dubious friends like Poverty and Psoriasis and Falling Anvils? Personally, I had no idea. But now, for better or worse, I do know. So now I know it's my responsibility to think some better thoughts. Crap.

Which makes it all the more frustrating when I manage a week like this last one. My car insurance expires painfully from lack of payment. The next night I hit a parked car pulling into the space next to it. What the hell? I've been driving for 23 years and never hit anything, and now I hit a parked car? And oh, the absolute potpourri of negative thoughts that come pouring out of that dented left rear quarter panel! I've been working so hard to put my life back together, "Why, why, why does this ALWAYS happen to me?" Why am I such a loser? Why can't I just get it together and lead a functional life? Why couldn't I create a new $5,000 client instead of a smashed Ford Windstar? I know this whole reality thing is just a wacky plastic holodeck, so why did I choose this? This, in the spirituality business, is known as an affirmation. The affirmation in this case being, "I use the Law of Attraction to Bludgeon Myself With."

Well friends, I should probably bring this post to a close so I don't wind up working myself into a frenzy of Bad Things Happen energy. But I could use your help. What thoughts work for you to help turn that frown upside down?

My Mega-Spiritual Thought of the Day: I Honor the Divinity Within Me Who Has Gone on Vacation to a Cooler Person! Y'all come back now, ya hear?

2009-09-16T21:23:00.001-07:00

Greetings, Fellow Travelers.

So today was a really good spiritual day for me, because I got to indulge in one of my favorite forms of spiritual enlightenment: Enlightening Others. That's how you can tell that you're just chock full of the good stuff--when you feel called upon to point out to other people where they are going wrong. Especially people you don't know, especially when they're just minding their own business, but you can tell that they're really asking for your help. Secretly. With their minds. You can just hear them crying out for your special guidance, and so you go ahead and gently correct the error of their ways. Now I want to make clear that this is nothing like going around knocking on the doors of complete strangers and asking them if they've heard the Good News about Jesus. No, in my case, today for example, it's like knocking on the heads of complete strangers and forcing them to confront the Good News about Buddha.

I'm sitting at Barnes and Noble reading a copy of Wayne Dyer's The Power of Intention. I like reading Wayne Dyer because he's so knowledgeable about so many different religions, and so good at pointing out the elements they have in common. It gives me the illusion that I actually know pretty much the same amount as Wayne, so I don't have to go to the trouble of learning about all those different religions. I'm sitting in one of those quartets of chairs around a small wooden table, and an elderly man and woman in two of the other chairs begin a conversation about being elderly. "It's hard getting older, harder than you might think," the woman says. "Well, that's what life is about, like the Buddhism says," replies the man. "Life is suffering, that's what they said, and so it's best for us to just accept it." The woman smiles back at him happily. "Is that right?"

Here's my chance! I come up from my book and beam a benevolent smile at them both. "Actually, that's not quite right. The Buddha said that it's our THOUGHTS that cause suffering, not life itself." The woman raises her eyebrows in my direction, politely acknowledging my helpful contribution. The man glares at me. "No, that's not right, it's our desires that cause all the trouble. That's what the Buddha realized. It is wrong to desire." He turns hopefully desiring eyes to the woman's face. "Oh, well, that explains a lot!" she giggles. Pulsing with the power of my spiritual conviction, I decide to offer another nugget of Ultimate Truth. "No, desire isn't wrong. It only feels bad if we believe that we cannot have what we desire!" The man and woman exchange a glance of patient mutual suffering solidarity. "That's a good point, dear." the woman says. "Hrrrmmph!" the man says, and returns to his stack of magazines.

Ah well. They may not be ready for the Good News. Not today. But the good news for me is that I am totally and completely ready to spread my half-baked feel-good gospel to all who cross my path! Hmmmm, maybe this is going to be a little harder than I thought.

My SuperSpiritual Awakened Avatar Thought for the Day: Accept All the Wonderful Teachers Life Sends Your Way--treat yourself to some wisdom, kiddos!

Ellen

To Blog or Not to Blog?

2009-09-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

Good Day, Friends.

How are you?

Thanks for coming to visit me when you feel like it. I surely do appreciate your support. I've been torturing myself for a few months now, trying to answer that Fateful Eternal Question: To Blog or not to Blog? Yes, my friends, it's a question we must each confront at one time or another. We may try to run from it; we may seek to evade it; we may try to deny it, yet still, it lingers on the doorstep of our Frantically Overloaded minds. For within this question lurks the Greatest Queries inherent in our existence. Who Am I? What Am I doing here? Does anybody else besides me CARE what I'm doing here? How can I get more people to care what I am doing? How can I get my own reality show based on my absolutely fascinating experiences?

How many people are blogging their little hearts out today? I do not know, but I would imagine it's probably like, maybe, 35 or 36 people. It seems presumptuous to ask that you choose to follow my version of reality over theirs, but I ask all the same. For in this blog I will chronicle the Adventures of Ellen (subheading: "My Lukewarm Attempts to Live a Spiritual Life"), and, in so doing, I plan to set all of humanity free from the chains of Limited Thinking. If this is not possible I am at least going to get y'all a really nice book of coupons for stuff you use every day. So stick with me, and one way or another I'm going to add some serious value to your life.

My Incredibly Self-Actualized Super-Spiritual Thought for the Day: Be Good and Do Good Things for Other People if You Happen to Think About it. Ciao!