BBaddict’s Evening with Gus Fring

Fifty-seven channels and nothing on. . . yeah, that’s what turned the Spiritual Adventuress into a BBaddict. Scrolling past “Breaking Bad,” she thought why watch a show about a meth lab. . . even if it is filmed in Albuquerque. But there’s nothing else on, maybe I’ll just check it out. Two days and twenty-one episodes later, she was as addicted to the story as drug lords are to power, as addicts are to meth – so addicted, that she hooked a friend in California. “Well,” she consoled her now bleary-eyed co-addict, “At least we’re not as bad as they are! Unbelievable!!” Then she shared breaking news about Connecticut viewers so outraged by an ill-timed cable outage during Sunday night’s episode that they called 911, unable to connect with the fix for their habit (fact).*

“We are receiving numerous 911 calls regarding the [Cablevision] outage,” a representative wrote on the [Fairfield Police] Department’s Facebook page. “This is neither an emergency, nor a police-related concern. Please direct your inquiries to Cablevision.” The rep also warned that “misuse of the 911 system may result in arrest.” “Clearly Fairfield PD doesn’t watch Breaking Bad,” one Facebook user replied to the department’s post. Ahhh. Vindication.

Where your attention goes, your energy flows and the result shows. Divine Flow took over in an amazing, synchronistic way with delightful results. You knew this would connect to spiritual practice and principles, didn’t you? But isn’t it an adventure each week to see how? It’s like six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Reading Albuquerque’s weekly independent Alibi on Saturday afternoon, the Spiritual Adventuress noticed a special event that evening at the Kimo Theatre. The very same magical location where, last fall, Zia Pueblo Indians sang “Happy Birthday” to her in their tribal language on the sidewalk in front of the theatre. Presentation of the Robert and Sibylle Redford Creative Achievement Award to Giancarlo Esposito would follow a showing of “The Usual Suspects,” a film in which Esposito portrays a policeman. Giancarlo’s current role is Gus Fring, ruthless drug lord in “Breaking Bad.” The final season, the last eight episodes of a five-year run, would begin the following evening. I went.

A long line of people clutching $21 computer-printout tickets snaked around the corner and down the street. As I approached an event staff person to ask questions, a man on the street asked me, “Do you have a ticket?” “No,” I replied. “Here,” he said, handing me a computer printout. “A friend couldn’t make it.” As I reached for my purse to pay him, he said, “No, he told me to just give it away.” It was second row, center, at a sold-out event. I was literally ten feet away from Robert Redford and his wife and Giancarlo Esposito. But that wasn’t the miracle. The miracle was Giancarlo Esposito, who he is as a person.

In the Q & A following the film, Giancarlo described his thirty-year career and the thinking which informed it. He began on stage, singing and dancing, taught by his African-American, opera-singer mother how to use his voice. He knew he did not want to be limited to being a theater entertainer, so he left to explore other art forms with the clear intention of expressing all creative aspects of himself. Film clips from about twenty of his fifty-eight films disclose very diverse roles. Esposito, whose father was Italian, grew up European. He had “to learn how to be black” for parts in six Spike Lee films. He hung out on the streets of Philadelphia to learn both language and body language. Pursuit of excellence in his craft extended not only to learning to speak Spanish to play Gus, but also to hiring a coach to teach him Spanish with a Chilean accent since the character was from Chile.

Giancarlo shared not only his outer expression, but also his inner expression, woven naturally into the conversation, revealing his beliefs about energy, intention, meditation. Referring to his daily meditation practice, he said, “I listen to the mountains.” It is in meditation he receives guidance. His commitment to doing what he loves with passion and at least one thing each day to move his life vision forward has served him well. He urged audience members to do the same. The description of his first meeting with Robert Redford at Sundance sixteen years ago reveals a great deal about both of them. They were drawn together by, and resonated with, each other’s energy. Seeing beneath the surface of outer appearance into deeply connected spiritual lives was both uplifting and inspirational. Comfortable with themselves, they allowed the essential truth within us all to be revealed.

With great joy and delight, I couldn’t wait to get home to call my California co-addict to say, “Guess where I was? I spent the evening with Gus Fring.” Only another BBaddict can appreciate what that means.

*As reported by Ethan Sacks, NEW YORK DAILY NEWS, Monday, August 19, 2013.

Mirror, Mirror. . .

Today is the day. Today we receive PET scan results. Today, after three years of being symptom-free and in remission, my son faces the recurrence of melanoma. A meeting with his primary care physician last week revealed “activity spots” in three locations. A meeting today with his oncologist will provide details, and, hopefully, information about a treatment plan. “At least it’s not in my liver – that would pretty much be it,” Grant informs me on the phone. “Once it’s in the liver or the lungs, it’s untreatable. I’d talk with you longer, but I’m baking. I’m making cornbread for our office picnic tomorrow, and Natalia is coming over to take me out to dinner. I love you, Mom.” Life goes on. Thankfully.

I have been living with the recurrence information for several weeks, trying to adjust to it, but having a hard time. Although I know there's a center of strength and peace within me, I've had trouble finding it, trouble residing there. Waves of sadness wash over me. I feel helpless, powerless, out of control. Negative thoughts keep flitting through my mind like the pestering plague of Albuquerque flies now torturing residents. Ideal weather conditions of drought and downpour have provided an endless supply.   

The Spiritual Adventuress is currently participating in the 21-Day Meditation Challenge, "Miraculous Relationships," offered by Deepak Chopra and Oprah Winfrey. Yesterday, I decided to return to blogging after a hiatus and began writing a post about relationships as mirrors. Today’s centering thought is “The world is my mirror.” Chopra says when we recognize we can see ourselves in others, every relationship becomes a tool for the evolution of our consciousness. The synchronicity reminds me I am not alone. I am in the divine flow. 

It has long been my spiritual practice to ask, whenever I make a statement about another person, "How is that true about me?" I don't always like what I see. This week, when I sent property information to a real estate contact, a reply came back that it looked pretty good "if it's not a scam." My reaction, definitely not a response, was "Don't even go there. What you think about, you bring about." Negative thinking brings about negative experiences. It didn't take long for me to see my reflection in the mirror, swatting away pesky flies. “In order to transform that which no longer serves us into what we truly desire in our hearts, we must embrace both the dark and the light of who we are,” says Chopra. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? That would be you. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the least fair of them all? That would also be you. I am grateful the mirror's reflection gave me a chance to choose again. It really served me.

Masaru Emoto's scientific experiments photographing water crystals were mentioned in another day's meditation. When positive thoughts and emotions, such as love, appreciation, happiness and truth were focused on samples of distilled water, the molecules formed delicate, symmetrical, crystalline shapes. Water samples exposed to negative thoughts filled with hatred and hostility displayed chaotic, fragmented structures. It is startling to think of this in relation to the fact that 60-70% of the human body consists of water. Meditation suggested I send Grant my copy of Emoto's book, The Hidden Messages in Water, which I read several years ago. When I went to my bookshelf to find the book, the first book I touched was Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, in which he says our ultimate freedom, which can never be taken away, is our freedom to choose how we will respond to the situation in which we find ourselves. Again, the synchronicity reminds me I am not alone. I am in the divine flow. The universe is communicating with me.

Looking into the mirror of my son, I see someone freely and powerfully choosing his response to a challenging situation. I see someone pragmatic with courage and equanimity. I see someone living his life fully, baking cornbread for a picnic, going to dinner with a friend. “I admire your great attitude and appreciate your being a role model for me,” I tell him. “Thank you,” he says. He is my teacher and my student. I am his teacher and his student. We are reflections of each other in the mirror of relationships.

"We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are."  -The Talmud

Courage Is My Word

“Courage has no guarantees, or certain outcomes.

 It is a risk taken on an unknown path.

 Courage brings about change. Growth is dependent on courage.

 I procrastinate out of fear of failure. Have I enough courage to examine that fear?”   

                                                                                                         – For Today

This week, prompted by the above quotation in a support group, the Spiritual Adventuress had an opportunity to write about courage and the fears she is encountering at her growing edge – body, relationship, writing. Beginning sentences with “I’m afraid I won’t know how…” or “I’m afraid I won’t be successful at…” revealed the path of growth, reminding her of where she needed to go, reminding her what spiritual teachers told her a long time ago.

“Where don’t you want to go? Go there. What don’t you want to do? Do that.”  By asking those questions, Val Jon Faris, co-facilitator of The Mastery, an in-depth, personal growth seminar, was shining light on the path which would require courage and bring about change. The last place I wanted to go was to sit next to Val Jon, so I did. The last thing I wanted to do was to ask for help, so I did. For me, feeling as helpless, powerless and out of control as I did in my family of origin was to be avoided at all cost, so I asked Val Jon and Cynthia if they would help me through the workshop process. Going where I didn’t want to go, and doing what I didn’t want to do, transformed my life. Now, twenty-two years later, whenever I face a difficult decision, I still ask myself those questions. The answers show me what to do next.

At the completion of The Mastery, participants were invited to choose a word to guide them, a word they would be and become. “Truth,” I said, soon adding “with compassion.” Two years later, I changed it to “Courage.” Cynthia said, “I think that will really serve you, Terranda.” It was a huge understatement. Courage accompanied me through my son’s life-threatening illness. It moved me from California to New Mexico where I had no friends, no family, no job, no place to live – but where I discovered my writing group and teachers. It joined me on a spiritual pilgrimage to Peru where it helped make decisions about participation in a shamanic journey.

Courage is still my word. Now, I am calling on courage to help me surrender in areas where I want to grow. To surrender, as in give up, old ideas, thoughts, beliefs and behaviors that are comfortable friends, life-long companions who cannot accompany me to the Promised Land, the unknown terrain of fulfilled dreams ahead. Like Moses, they have brought me this far, but they cannot take me where I want to go. To do that I must rely on an obsolete meaning of courage: “The heart, as the source of emotion,” in addition to the traditional meanings of courage: having the confidence to act in accordance with one’s beliefs; the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain. The French word coeur, or heart, is the root word of courage, the terrain of intuition and feeling. The Mastery gave me access to my feelings, my emotions. Before then, I lived in my head. It took more than ten years to integrate what I learned so I could not only identify what I was feeling, in the moment, but also express it.

At aquacise today, I experienced Mastery’s precious gift. A friend asked about my recent trip to California. I told her about the magical experience my son Grant and I had seeing thousands and thousands of dolphins on a whale watching trip for his birthday. Migrating humpback whales breached, rolled over, showing us their pectoral fins, their tails. They swam under our boat, literally five feet away. I told her how happy I was to meet Grant’s girlfriend of six months, to learn they are enjoying each other. Tears came when I shared my concerns that his past treatment for melanoma might keep someone from taking the risk of being in relationship with him, loving him, marrying him, having children with him because of the possibility of losing him. She immediately hugged me. "What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” two other women asked, swimming over. Hearing the story, they both hugged me too. “Thank you for sharing that,” said one. Courage, the heart as source of emotion, gives me access to my feelings in the moment, connecting me authentically with others in relationship. I know courage will take me the rest of the way, guiding me through the unknown. Courage will help me surrender. Courage will manifest my dreams.

Someone

Someone

Tacked

to the corner

telephone pole,

someone

left a single-word sign.

On gold cardstock,

red calligraphy proclaims

Poetry

Slippery sheet protectors

shield Emily Dickinson,

Jackson Holly, Basho  

from sizzling summer sun,

wind, monsoon rains.

Filling

a cornflower blue
 ceramic glazed pot 

with Veronica spicata,

magenta Petunias, gold Celosia,

I set it

on the adobe ledge

in front of my home.

                                 ©2013 Terranda King

Fastened with binder clips to two clipboards are six poems. On the bottom clipboard, the page reads “KIDS” parallel to its left-hand edge and includes a poem about “a snail upon the wall.” No poet is named. I wonder if “Someone” wrote it.

The sign and poems have been there for months. I meant to stop. Before I did, they disappeared, and I was disappointed. Perhaps they announced a local poetry reading/writing group I could attend. Recently, the sign and poems reappeared. Today, I stopped and received the gift I'd already been given, the gift waiting for me. How many gifts await our receptivity? What difference will their contribution make? There’s no way to know who stops, how many read the poems or how they respond. The act of leaving them there seems whimsical, generously free of attachment. 

  

Almost all the poems are about nature, the night, a flowering tree, a snake and a snail, appropriate since they are posted on the street leading to the Rio Grande Nature Center. Familiar with Basho and Emily Dickinson, I had not heard of Jackson Holly. A little internet research to find his two poems led to music videos of a Jackson Holly playing guitar and singing a blues version of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” He could be the “Someone,” I’m just not sure. If so, in these days of social media platforms, poems posted on telephone poles really are “stealth marketing.” How many people are curious enough to spend time tracking him down? Looking in his mirror, I wonder how difficult I make it for others to experience the essence of me.

The experience inspired me to express my own creativity. Since I haven’t written poetry for a long time, it was a real treat to do that. The experience made me wonder if I give anonymous (more or less!) gifts of love to unknown strangers. It made me wonder what those gifts might be. It made me wonder how I can give them more consciously, more often. It made me wonder what the world would be like if more of us did. I think we all give gifts of love to unknown strangers. I think we do it every day by showing up as who we are. Sometimes we don’t recognize how just being ourselves makes a difference, how it is a gift to others.

During my recent trip to California, dear friends in real estate had me stay at their home. They organized a Sunday afternoon BBQ, inviting people I worked with 15 - 20 years ago. It was a unique experience for me. For the first time in my life, I felt an intangible sense of perspective in time – it must come with age. I could feel the relationship I had with each person, the contributions we made to each other. It was a warm, soft, expansive feeling in my chest. One man has had extraordinary success in real estate over the years. Last year, he sold 250 short-sale and foreclosure homes. He told me that when he was new in the business, a bright young man with an MBA from Northwestern University, but a stranger to me, I was his mentor without knowing it. He told me he followed me around the office, listening to what I said, watching what I did. His telling me about the difference I made in his life was his contribution to me. Aware consciously of our contributions or not, we can be confident we make them, and that we have a choice about making them consciously.

Beloved

Beloved. We are the Beloved. In so many ways the Universe is letting us know how much we are loved. It custom tailors its messages to us so we cannot doubt they are ours. All we have to do is pay attention. In a mystical experience at Costco this week, yes, Costco, the temple of discount consumption, I received my most recent notification that I am the Beloved. I don't really care where I am when Spirit tells me that I am loved. I experience delight wherever it is and whatever form it takes.

Wow. One. There is one copy of Leila Meacham’s paperback at Costco, on top of one of two tables of books on display. Just to be sure, I circle then circle again, both tables, Doubting Thomas that I am, looking for another copy. Nope. None. Nada. Just checking. . . There’s only one, the one that is a love message of support from Spirit to me. It’s near the front, right by the aisle as I pass, unmistakable. The title, Roses, embossed in gold letters, is surrounded by a profusion of pink and red roses.              

        

How do I know it’s a love letter from Spirit? There are no accidents. It is a symbolic synchronicity, or “coincidence.” I encountered the author and book two weeks ago in person at the University of New Mexico (UNM) Writers Conference. Leila Meacham was the keynote speaker, her appearance another love letter from Spirit to me. She and I have so many things in common we could be twins. Both of us are retired teachers of similar age with first books who consider writing their job and follow spiritual practices.

Spirit told me, several times, starting with a bumper sticker, “Move forward confidently in the direction of your dreams.” At the regular, monthly meeting of SouthWest Writers, Spirit let me know about the UNM Writers Conference. Brochures were distributed and an announcement made that early registrants would receive a free, 10-minute “book pitch” with an agent or editor of their choice from New York. My book pitch was scheduled at the same exact time my writing teachers were presenting a workshop on their new book, Find Your Story – Write Your Memoir. My book is a self-help memoir. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink. Spirit keeps saying, “You are loved and supported." Keep moving forward.

Now, about that book pitch. As a spiritual mentor likes to say, “There’s one thing I am perfectly clear about. I don’t have the foggiest notion how to do that. But I didn’t know how to do puberty either. . . . .did you?” No. Fortunately, Spirit loves me through a fabulous, retired reference librarian friend who, without being asked, emails me thirty pages of the best information available on how to prepare a book pitch. It is totally relevant. Try selecting that sometime from 549,237,091 google hits on the topic. I email her a copy of the two-page pitch I labor on for seven hours. “I love it, outstanding,” she pronounces. This is high praise from someone who, for years, read book synopses and purchased books for her library. Spirit does indeed love me.  

Leila Meacham is a delightful keynote speaker - authentic, unassuming, charming and inspirational. She tells us it's her first writers conference and first keynote address. She tells us her story. She shares how the multigenerational family saga manuscript she worked on for twenty years almost ended up in the trash, rescued at the last moment by her husband when they moved. When the book is finally finished, a friend asks to share a few pages with someone. The someone “just happens” to be a very successful literary agent. The literary agent “just happens” to obtain a book contract two weeks later. The book “just happens” to make the best-seller list within eighteen days of publication. I’ll bet she didn’t know how to do puberty either.

After Leila’s talk, people of all ages thank her for being such an inspiration. Now Spirit has presented me with her book at Costco. For 624 pages, I can immerse myself in the consciousness of the 70-year-old, retired schoolteacher from East Texas, whose first published book easily and effortlessly reaches The New York Times Best Sellers list. For hours and hours, I can enjoy reading a dream come true. “If it can happen for her, it can happen for you,” Spirit says. “Here. Hold it in your hands as a tangible reality. You are my Beloved.”

Not Choosing Is Choosing

In a miraculous universe with an unlimited capacity to orchestrate events, how are we to make sense of bombings, shootings, mayhem, death, disease? What is it that seeks expression as violence, destruction, infliction of pain on innocents? How do we live in such a world? Do we want to live in such a world? Accept it? Transform it? How? 

What times we live in. How grippingly, compellingly real the appearances. Terry Cole Whittaker said, "Things fall apart before they fall together." We certainly are witness to that. Today, in Boston. Last week, in Connecticut, where the President said, "We must change." And yet, such resistance to change. "Be the change," said Gandhi. Is that enough? What is "enough?" Who determines "enough?" In the face of horrendous personal loss, their grief still palpable, eyes still wet with tears, but without rancor, Newtown parents lobby Congress, in the face of what seem to be insurmountable odds, for change. "Newtown chooses love," town banners proclaimed. How many of us must choose love, and for how long, before change can come? It is coming. Slowly. Painfully. At a price. Is our heart big enough to love one another? To create together a world that works for all, or is the task too big to try? 

In some way, individually and collectively, these questions are ours. We are here now. They are ours to address or deny, to contemplate or ignore, but both they, and we, are here now. Regardless of which we choose, we are choosing.

What I know to be true, from personal experience, is we are powerful beyond measure, whether we know it or not, acknowledge it or not, use it or not. I watched my son, Grant, do the "impossible" in the intensive care unit at UCLA while being treated for stage-four melanoma. He experienced all the side effects of his immunotherapy drug without taking the drug. The chills, fever, convulsive shaking, increased heart rate, vomiting and diarrhea were all compellingly "real." He did not want to be there. He was worried about his Dad, who was in another hospital nearby with a large blood clot in his heart. When the resident physician made her rounds the next morning, she asked Grant how he managed to have all the side effects of the drug without taking the drug. "I created that," he said simply, and she responded, "Wow. That's powerful." They released him from the hospital. That's how powerful we all are. We are the creators of our experience. What will we do with that power? What will we choose? Will we address or deny it? Contemplate or ignore it? Regardless of what we choose to do with it, we are choosing. Will we choose to believe in love, act from love, create from love, despite appearances, and continue to do so until we have a world that works for all? Will we let ourselves out of the hospital?

So Hum

So Hum is a cat.

So Hum is a mantra.

“So Hum” is I Am.

So Hum is a synchronicity.

So Hum is new to the neighborhood. He moved in with his human companion, Claire (“light”), a yoga practitioner, a couple of months ago. He is a Garfield-shaped, grey, short-haired embodiment of the divine. He roams the neighborhood, lumbers across my front yard and hurdles himself, more or less, over the morning-glory-planter fence between my garden guru’s yard and mine. Unsure of our relationship, as was I (Does he consider my flower beds a litter box?), he did not tarry in my yard. Gradually, we’ve come to know one other.

It goes without saying (until now!), Claire is a metaphysical thinker, or she would not have named So Hum “So Hum.” So hum is a Sanscrit mantra. It means “I am.” It is the name God reveals to Moses at the burning bush when asked his name. Ehyeh asher ehyeh (Exodus 3:12) literally translates as "I Will Be What I Will Be," however, most English translations render it as “I am that I am” (Exodus 3:14), in one of the most famous verses in the Torah, or first five books of the Bible.  

So Hum, the Sanscrit mantra, plays a large role in the Oprah/Chopra 21-day Meditation Challenge for Perfect Health the Spiritual Adventuress completed this week. The words “I Am” contain the mystical power of creation because whatever follows those two words. . . I am tired, I am sick, I am healthy, I am prosperous, describes a state of being that manifests, or takes physical form. Therefore, Deepak Chopra chose the words following “I am” with clarity and intention in these daily centering thoughts:

I am perfection. I am healthy. I am strong.

I am one with the breath of life.      

I am flexible, powerful, and balanced.

I am an exquisite expression of nature.

I am ageless and timeless.

I am absolute existence. I am a field of all possibilities.

Over the years, a great spiritual practice for me has been listening to myself speak and think, paying attention to what follows after I say, “I am.” I am claiming my experience, creating my life by speaking my word. Sometimes immediate editing is necessary! It can also be very revealing to listen to others speak themselves into existence. And, taken to the next level, to know you and they are one. “I Will Be What I Will Be” is whatever we state, whatever we create.

Creation does not take form from mindless repetition of positive statements, which leads some people to conclude affirmations don’t work. It’s much more complex than simple repetition. To manifest, or take form, the process must include not only embodying the thought, but also the feeling, that the statement is already accomplished. Creating from a consciousness of wholeness (as God,* or “I am”), everything does already exist. Repetition is necessary until the feeling is present and any subconscious counter-intentions are dissolved.  

So, So Hum as a cat, So Hum as a mantra, So Hum as “I am,” and So Hum as synchronicity. The dog chases its tale. Everything comes full circle in synchronicity. In the 4T class this week, heart coherence and the work of the Heart Math Institute were discussed. When the lub-dub sound of the beating heart was translated into “so-hum, so-hum, so-hum” or “I am, I am, I am,” the insight came that God’s name, the “I am” of the beating heart, is love. Metaphysically, your name is your nature. God’s nature is love. Every beat of our heart is announcing, “I am, I am, I am. . . love.” Sychronistically, the class assignment for the week was to make a treasure map, or vision board using magazine photos, to depict what we are creating in our lives. Alternatively, we could construct an “I am” board representing the qualities of consciousness we are focused on expressing. Mine included the 21-day meditation mantra So Hum.

Slowly crunching my way over the gravel driveway as I entered our community, I noticed So Hum sitting on his haunches outside his home. Stopping the car, I rolled down my window and greeted him by name, “So Hum, So Hum, So Hum,” now deeply aware of its meaning. He seemed attentive though unresponsive. Once I parked the car, he walked over, and, for the first time, rubbed up against my legs and let me pet him. I had seen his true nature, and mine, as expressions of the beating heart of the Universe. In loving recognition, we acknowledged one another, ourSelf.

“Notice the coincidences in your life. Coincidences are messages. They are clues from God or spirit or nonlocal reality, urging you to break out of. . . your familiar patterns of thinking. They are offering you an opportunity to enter a domain of awareness where you feel loved and cared for by the infinite intelligence that is your source. Spiritual traditions call this the state of grace,” says Dr. Deepak Chopra in his book Synchrodestiny: Harnessing the Infinite Power of Coincidence to Create Miracles. Coincidentally, I’m reading it this week.

*Interchangeable with Spirit, Energy, Universal Mind, Unity Consciousness, Field of All Possibilities, Allah, Buddha. . .