The long way home is sometimes better than the easy way

The weather that was threatening to come never came until late in the night, early this morning. At first making me question why I had travelled halfway across the country with multiple delays to get back home when if I had stayed with my original travel plans, I would have gotten home without all the hassle I went through.

Questioned why my instincts did not tell me I should stay where I was rather than fleeing and getting myself so exhausted from delayed flights and missed sleep. Questioned why I did not hear from the Universe that changing my plans was not the right thing to do. Beating myself up for being so worried about getting home that I probably did not listen to my gut telling me everything was going to be okay. Berating myself for reacting too quickly to news of bad weather from others rather that trusting myself to do what I had to do.

But then in the middle of the night when the thunder crashed and the lightning flashed and the rain beat down on my window panes, I finally understood why I went through what I had gone through to get home. Like the fierce lightning flashes outside, a bolt of inspiration and understanding flashed through me.

I knew the reason why I took the route I had to get home was because I was feeling really guilty about missing my children doing their events. Missing my son getting ready for his expedition this weekend. Missing my family. Well when I got off the airplane fully expecting to take a taxi home, there waiting for me outside and the first face I was was my husband. Lifting my spirits in ways he could not imagine.

I had been so tired when I got off the flight that the last thing I wanted was to have to make small talk with a taxi driver. All I wanted was the comfort of my home and my husband delivered that by being there waiting for me. Gave me my first reason for abandoning the easy way home to take the more difficult road home.

And then as we drove home, we spotted our son in the midst of his friends, loaded down with his backpack taking a break on a hill. Allowing me to roll down the window and shout out, “Hello son,” Waves of relief flooding through me to see he was okay and had done what he needed to do without me. Seeing his face filled with confusion as to how his parents were able to drive by him. At first too perplexed and embarrassed by our drive by to comprehend how we had managed to do pass him before the relief I was back home hit him allowing him to snap out of his confusion in time to shout back at me, “How was your trip?” Always the considerate son he is deep down inside. The experience of seeing my son when I was not expecting to see him until this afternoon was reason enough for me to take the long road home rather the short one.

And then I got home with the house to myself as my husband went back to work allowing me the time and space without feeling guilty about spending time with anyone to fall into a deep, deep sleep. My whole being telling me I needed to rest. Giving myself the permission to rest without feeling guilty because there was no one at home that I needed to talk to just me and rest. I slept for hours recharging myself.

My husband going to pick up our daughter from school so I could rest some more. And then when she came home, she came into the bed with me, resting her head full of curls in the nape of my neck. Her warmth and love spreading through me. Her pleased face that I was home enough to make the long journey home worth all the effort I had gone through. Worth giving up the easy way home for the more difficult way.

And so in the middle of the thunderstorm, high winds and the pounding rain that did not come when I thought it would but came much later on, I realized though I could have taken the easy path home, the more direct route, had I done so I would have missed out on all the wonderful surprises and treats that were waiting for me back home.  Allowing me to understand my gut had been right all along to take the long route home so that I could receive the gifts I received yesterday that were waiting for me to make the decision I had.

Telling me that sometimes the long and most difficult path home is the best path to take because at the end of it we appreciate more and open ourselves to receive more than when we always take the easy and most expected path. So happy to be home. So happy to have chosen the long and arduous route home rather than the easy one. Because I realized more than anything, we are always where we are meant to be. Always. Namaste.

A roundabout journey home teaches me about life

What an epic journey I have been on to try to beat the weather coming to Bermuda. To try to get home so I can spend some of the weekend with my children and my husband.
I decided to change my flight to get home early only to have spent the majority of the day yesterday in airports and on cancelled flights one after the other. I left Houston, Texas at 1.55 pm only to arrive in NYC at 1 am in the morning. More than twelve hours of travel. With each flight being so turbulent that there was silence on each flight. People silently waiting for the flights to end.
Me praying that I could get a flight, any flight that would get me into NYC on time to get my early morning flight to get back to Bermuda. I really started to panic when we sat at the gate for nearly two hours because there were no working toilets, hearing from the stewardess that the FAA requires there to be working toilets before an airplane can depart. Listening to her telling other passengers that if the plane did not take off soon,  it would have to be cancelled because LaGuardia has curfews on when flights can land. Me praying that something would happen to let me get to NYC.
Then after two hours of sitting they told us we would have to change airplanes because they could not fix the toilets and they did not know when there would be a substitute plane. I panicked even more, texted home to let everyone know what was going on. Telling my husband to record Scandal for me because I was going to miss it. After all I had to make sure that I didn't miss out on my indulgence because of airplane incidents. Thank goodness for modern technology. Not daring to tell him that part of the reason why I had chosen the route I had was because it would get me to NYC in time to see my favourite show. Once I knew it was not going to happen, I had to let my angst go.
We got off the airplane as they were announcing that the gate for the flight to JFK was being changed to a new gate. JFK when I was flying to LaGuardia to fly out of JFK this morning. I felt like I had been spoken to by my angels. I went to the gate agent and in the sweetest and most charming way as possible asked her if I could change form the LaGuardia flight to the JFK flight. She looked at me and told me no at first but I kept talking to her, telling her I had flown all the way from Houston, had been switched from one airplane to the next to sit on the runway for two hours and all I wanted was to get home to my children. I didn't shout or blame, I just asked. She looked at me again and switched me without question, She even bumped me up to the Premier seats. I thanked her profusely. Something in my journey finally working out.
After another bumpy flight, with no service from the stewardess because of how turbulent it was, we finally landed in JFK at about 12.30 in the morning, a whole 4 hours later than I was meant to get there but I was so grateful that I made it to NYC that the time did not matter. And I was even able to accept I had missed Scandal - just wasn't meant to be and hopefully my husband remembered to DVR it for me.
I eventually fell asleep for 2 hours to jump up to get to the airport for my 7.30 departure. Leaving early to beat the crowds only to find myself in the long security Jet Blue lines for nearly 40 minutes, watching people panicking because they had not allowed enough time for the lines. Having been thought what I had, I decided to let the stress go and accept I was where I was meant to be. Closer to home than I was the day before.
An epic journey that took me on a roundabout route with many delays and bumps but eventually got me to where I needed to be. The angst I felt, the anger I felt, the panic I felt giving way to calm because I knew I was learning an invaluable lesson about life - sometimes we will be rerouted, bumped here and there, encounter turbulence but when we have faith and do not lose patience, life always takes us where we are meant to be. Though I was 4 hours late, I ended up landing at the airport I wanted to land in the first place.
Now here's to hoping life intends for me to get home early today so I can pick my daughter up from school. Praying and asking you to pray with me too.

I am the light of my soul

This morning I woke up full of dark thoughts and that scarcity mentality that was pulling me down into the abyss. Making me feel like life is pulling me down. I had no inspiration to write because I was feeling so false, so inadequate. I mediated but the music somehow did not transport me to that place of release I needed so I got grumpier. Wallowing in my place of pity.

And then I searched for one of my favourite songs, Ave Maria and found it on You! Tube but when I clicked to play the song, I instead clicked on the song, I am the light of my soul by mistake. And these words came to be, I am the light of my soul. I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am bliss. I am. I am. I am. I am.

When I heard those beautiful and lilting words. Truly heard them and felt them, I knew I did not click on that song by mistake, I was led there by my angels, my guides to focus me, to help me, to guide me because my soul was immediately lifted as my whole being began to cry in relief. 

Relief to to know that though there are several obstacles and trials that have come before me, the words to this simple but beautiful song grounded me. Reminded me that I am all that I am because of what I tell myself.

Yes there are people that are challenging me right now. Challenging me to question whether I am where I am able to accept that I am the light of my soul. Forcing me to question whether I truly believe that I am bountiful. To question whether I am bliss. Whether I am deserving of my beauty and the beauty that surrounds me.

So when I listened to this song particularly because I was feeling like I am standing still while everyone else around me seems to be moving at top speed, I closed my eyes and let those words fill me up. Helping me to see I am all that I am because I am. Letting me know there is nothing outside me that can control me unless I give my power, my soul, my beauty, my bountifulness, and my bliss away to them.

There is no one else that can be the light of my soul except for me therefore it is up to me to accept that I am the light of my soul particularly on those days when everyone around me is trying to make me believe that I have no control over that light. Particularly when they are trying to steal the light that I carry naturally within. I inhaled deeply those words allowing them to travel through every cell of my body. Letting each word ignite the light that resides within me. Allowing me to exhale fully and appreciatively. Until the light of my soul felt fuelled and ready to grow some more.Accepting of the challenges as means for growth. My growth.

Next I allowed the words that I am beautiful to flow through me. To allow me to see the beauty that resides within me so that I can see and feel the beauty in all things. Recognising that when I do I am released from feeling like I am not good enough. Allowing me to know that beauty comes from within. To know it is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder because only the beholder can see true beauty by embracing beauty from within.The most beautiful comes from a place deep within us because it is us.

Allowing me to accept that I am bountiful. That I create either my bountifulness or my scarcity by what I believe about myself. Because what I believe about myself is what I bring into the room with me wherever I go. Even on those days when it feels like everyone around me is hoarding for themselves. Taking from me to have more. But when I tell myself I am bountiful I know I am deserving of the bountifulness and then something shifts. I no longer feel that I need to hoard to have more. I realise I have enough to share and in doing so more comes to me. When we trick ourselves into believing we deserve more than someone else we always end up with less. But when we know that we are bountiful, regardless of what anyone else has, we attract more.

Taking me to that place of bliss that lets me know that I am bliss. Bliss because I am so full of life. So full of all that is full of light, beauty and love allowing my being to resonate at a vibration that allows bliss to flow into my soul, my heart, my being lifting me up even when all around me seems dull and dark. Bliss is having the ability to accept everything and everyone comes to us to help us to reach our state of bliss. Accepting that bliss may not be readily available when we search for it but when we are accepting of where we are, we allow space for bliss to come in because I realise I am, I am. I  am.

So today because I am being seriously tested right now to see what it is that I really want, my mantra is:

I am the light of my soul

I am beautiful

I am bountiful

I am bliss

I am

I am

I am

I am

And already I feel myself floating, drifting, and totally being present in this flow of life. In this dance called my life journey with all its ups and downs. Letting go of expectation when I can to allow for all that I am to come to the surface with acceptance, peace, and gratitude because I am. I am. I am. I am.

I am who I believe I am. I am what I believe I am worthy of. And when I shift from telling myself what I am not to what I am, I become what and who I am capable of becoming because I am the light of my soul. I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am bliss. I am. I am. I am…

Does a mother's guilt ever go away?

Does a mother’s guilt ever go away? Does a mother ever feel that she can detach from her children? A woman from her family?

I have said this many times before but it always comes back to me when I am ridden with guilt as I am this week, my mother-in-law always says she does not envy this generation because we have far too many choices. That life was much simpler for her generation because they did not have a lot of choices. They did what they had to do. What was expected of them and did not question or doubt. They just did.

Whereas my generation is the first to have a myriad of choices particularly for us women. Women suffered before me to give me the right to vote. Women marched and demanded equal treatment in the workplace, opening doors for the likes of me to hold senior positions in companies. Women fought against the stereotypical image of the woman’s place being at the kitchen sink barefoot and pregnant allowing women to have the ability to lean in as Sheryl Sandberg likes to say.

Yet somewhere along the line, I feel like we missed something or at least I missed something. Sure it is glamorous to travel to many different places. To meet many interesting people. To push myself to the limit in terms of my internal fears. To put myself in situations where I know no one and have to establish who I am. And I do all these things yet at the same time sometimes I feel like something is missing.

I am travelling for business again this week so I missed my daughter’s sports yesterday. All day long I did the things I was meant to do here but my heart was with my daughter. Envisioning her running her little heart out looking for her mommy in the crowd only for her mommy not to be there. Me envying all those mothers who were there for their children. Cheering them on. With me cynically thinking but we call me being away from my children progress because we are so successful as women that we miss our children’s sports. Miss seeing them doing the best they can.

And then I started piling more quilt on myself, sinking myself deeper into the pity game when I thought about how my son will be leaving on Friday to do an expedition and I will miss helping him pack his stuff. Miss making sure he has everything with him. Miss kissing him and wishing him well face to face. Miss his sarcastic responses to me that I have grown to expect and because I am far away from him right now realise how much I will miss.

All in the name of progress, equality and success. But what is progress? What is equality? What is success? Did the women who knew their place, who were there for their families have it better than we do today? Than I do today? Or would those women be looking at my lifestyle and envying me because I do have a seat at the table, because I do get to travel, because I do get to have choices?

Are we ever satisfied with where we are or are we always thinking the grass is greener on the other side. Right now I am torn because I am a mother first but I am missing milestones in my children’s lives that I did not expect I would because I traded that aspect of myself to be this career woman too.

Believe me I am grateful for all that I have but I am also torn about the guilt that I feel when I miss the milestones in my children’s lives. And I also know it is through choice that I am where I am instead of where I would have liked to have been with my children this week. Leading me back to my mother-in-law’s statement and questioning whether she is right, is it much harder when we have choices than it is when we don’t?

Not sure but I do know the guilt is eating away at me this week because I am far from my children and their milestones but grateful at the same time that I have a husband that is there with them. At least they are not totally alone. Still it does not ease my guilt. Does not erase my feelings of being torn.

Taking me back to where I started from is a mother ever free of guilt? Ever free of trying to be all things to all people at her expense? Not sure but I do feel better for putting my feelings out there and hoping that others will understand my quandary as well and maybe by expressing how I feel I can help another woman feeling the same to know she is not alone.

That we are human beings try to live the best lives we can and doing the best we can with the choices we make every single day. That I am a woman, a wife, a mother, a sister and a friend doing the best I can and sometimes that means I will be ridden with guilt and that's okay too as long as I don't let it consume me and allow that to become the story of my life. 

I'm not even sure how to end this blog today because I am not sure what the answer is so I will end without ending today. Accepting that sometimes there are more questions than answers and sometimes that's okay too. Signed a woman searching for balance amongst a myriad of choices.

Allowing space for breakthroughs

Breakthroughs come through when we are helping others because in helping others we are helping ourselves.

Breakthroughs never come through when we are hindering others because in hindering them we are hindering ourselves.

Breakthroughs break us when we are trying to obstruct others, destroy others because breakthroughs can only come through when we share and create not destroy and hate.

Breakthroughs only come through when we are confident enough to accept and be who we are. Never being ashamed of our faults and our insecurities because they are part of what makes us who we are and what we are. Understanding our imperfections are our greatest strengths because they make us human. Relatable. Empathetic because we understand there is no perfect being that walks this Earth.

Breakthroughs come through when we share our stories. Our histories. Our truths from deep within because when we do we allow ourselves to come to terms with our own struggles, our own imperfections and in doing so we help others by letting them know they are not alone in their struggles. 

Every one of us came here with a story. A story we chose to tell. A story we chose to live. A story to grow us and mould us. And every time we let that story out, with truth and without holding back, we allow ourselves to breakthrough. To move to the next level of understanding because in doing so we open our eyes and the eyes of others to the interconnectedness of us all. Because we realize our stories are universal stories. We understand just how interconnected we all are.

I love telling my story. My story of adversity and breakthroughs because in doing so I see the light come on in someone else’s eyes because they thought they were alone.  Thought they were the only ones struggling to find the light. And when they see there is someone else that knows their pain and has come out on the other side, they feel lighter, freer. I feel such power in helping to liberate others from the bondage of their own thoughts because I know in doing so I have liberated myself as well.

And it is because I share my story over and over again , I realise why I encounter struggle and pain, it is to grow me, to heal me, to move me on so that when I tell my story I tell it from a place of truth, a place of compassion, empathy, authenticity and wholeheartedness, allowing me to touch someone else. And I   understand this story telling allows me breakthroughs that fill me up and make me over flow because I have done the same for someone else.

I know for sure that breakthroughs come through when we are helping others because in helping others we are helping ourselves. Because breakthroughs only come through when we are seeing and feeling our stories through the eyes of others. When we recognize we do not walk this path alone. That we are all here to help each other, not destroy. Not hinder. Not hurt. But to help. But to love. To love freely and openly because when we do we open our hearts to compassion, to a love so deep it makes us vibrate. Allowing space for breakthroughs to come through. Taking us to a whole new level of understanding, living and loving. Namaste 

Moved by beautiful music

There is something magical about beautiful music. Music that is written and is expressed from the soul because it is the soul. This music touches me on a much deeper level than I knew music could. It lifts my spirits and carries me on the eternal rhythmic journey that connects us all to us all. It leaves me feeling inspired, breathless and full of joy because I feel like I  have been shown a piece of heaven, Nirvana, Bliss, Sacred space or whatever name of the eternal resonates with us.

Beautiful music sometimes fills me with tears - both joyful and sad tears because it brings to the surface all that I am. All that I asked to come here to be then drops me back off into reality. Leaving me reaching grasping for more. Knowing that when I surrender I am in a place of magic, surrender and love.

 I love to start my day listening to beautiful music. Allowing it to permeate every cell, pore of my body. Relaxing into it. Allowing myself to float on the waves of sound. The blissfulness of the nothingness that is the all.

I close my eyes and surrender to each note. Giving each note permission to embrace me. Entrance me. Wake me up while at the same time putting me to sleep. Easing any worry. Any pain, any apprehension or fear that may be threatening to pull me down into the abyss. Allowing it to lift me, carry me, to that place – that place we only glimpse when we let go of everything accepting it is the same as nothing.

I love beautiful music. Closing my eyes, Inhaling the smell of surrender. Breathing in the breath of life. Swaying inside and out to the sound - to wonderful sound of life – beginning and ending, awakening and sleeping. Every pore on my body on edge as I reach the ecstasy of surrender.  Allowing me to feel totally and utterly alive. Prickles of anticipation and surrender mingling. Feeling my cheeks move as a smile from deep within rises and spreads across my face.

I love listening to beautiful music. To soulful music. Ethereal nusic like the voice of angels. Written from the heart, Written from that place of total surrender. That place that does not question. Does not need answers. That place that understands we are all here for a reason. Good or bad. That place that knows no bounds yet has bounds of its own. That place that when I find it, I feel like a little girl being born again. Awakening to the joy of all that is available to me and for me.

Seeing all the possibility that exists. All the good that is. And I want to hold on to the feeling for as long as I can. Until I remember to just be where I am. Listening to the sound of life – the silence and the noise all combined. Taking me. Holding me. Freeing me. To be all that I came here to be. Returning to the beginning at the ending of this physical space knowing it for the first time to begin all over again.

Music beautiful music. Love. Thank you. Namaste

March truly makes its entrance as a lion

Woke up this morning to everything banging and crashing around outside. The wind howling. Rain lashing against the windowpanes.  The sound of a winter storm. Thinking what a great day to stay indoors. To vegetate. To be cocooned from the storm brewing outside.  

I got up to check outside – to see that was causing the haunting howling sound as the wind found its way through my windows - like the sound of a crying lady lost at sea. And that’s when I saw just how stormy it was outside. Leaves burnt from being whipped by the wind flying across the lawn. Some on the ground sodden from the rain that was beating down.

Seeing yet another rainy day and this time mixed with high winds we have not seen in a while, at first my spirits dropped as I thought when will this rain ever end? When will we have some sun to dry out the dampness that seems to be a permanent feature of my home? To dry out the mud that is becoming more present than the grass. To lift my spirits because there is no sun. I wasn’t born to be a troglodyte. I was born to be outside basking in the sun was my lament to the Silence.

The silence answered me by having me glimpse my calendar showing me that today is the first of March. The first day of the month that will bring in spring and I realized it is March coming in like the lion it can be. This time angry that its season of winter was not allowed to show its force, dampened by the rain and the high humidity that cheated it of its ability to be chilly and windy. Letting us know how fierce our winter could have been and how we have been fortunate enough to have been spared.

My mood shifted from one of doom and gloom to one of gratitude, gratitude that yes the day may be stormy and the outside is dark and gray but we have been spared all winter from the cold that we could have had. That I live in a place where there are no snowstorms that keep us marooned indoors. No ice storms that keep us bundled up so our faces don’t crack from the cold. In a place where yes we  have storms from time to time but in general we are surrounded by the bluest of oceans and landscape that looks like a continuous garden.

So I surrendered to the first of March accepting it is doing its thing. Blowing in like a lion. Allowing winter to have its last hurrah before it makes way for Spring. Allowing me the presence of mind to exhale.  Accepting with gratitude the weather as stormy as it is, could have been a whole lot worse. Welcome March 1. Welcome with all your force. Truly making your entrance as the lion you can be. Blowing away the remnants of winter before you usher in spring. Namaste