Mumbai & Putting Grit in Your Gratitude

As I sat down to write a blog post on gratitude a few days before the US Thanksgiving day holiday, I was troubled by a feeling of hesitation. I couldn't write a thing. I thought maybe the day had to unfold for the muse to strike. But the day came and went and I felt as dry in the inspiration department as a dry stick. What was up with me? I had plenty to feel grateful for! Why couldn't I write? I trust my intuition and something kept telling me to delay. Delay. Do not write. Do not write about gratitude. I felt sick to my stomach. Nauseous. Agitated. I ended up pushing through my resistance and writing something. I didn't like it. It felt forced. I took it down.

When I picked up The Guardian the next morning at my favorite Starbucks in Earl's Court, the anxiety and stomach churning of the last few days suddenly made sense. There it was in black and white - the Mumbai tragedy. I read the story backwards and forwards and then glued myself to the TV. If I'd had trouble writing about gratitude before this, it was impossible for me to write about it now. The events in Mumbai had taken the wind out of my sails.

I spent the entire next day on a kind of inner pause....in numb speechlessness. My brother's Indian nanny called home and spoke to many friends in Mumbai. A friend of mine in the United States told me about a friend of his who was a member of the group that lost the man from Virginia and his daughter.

When my little niece asked me what was wrong, I mumbled something about terrorists. My younger nephew looked at me and said, 'What is a tehwwowist?' I looked at his thoughtful, innocent face and paused. What could I say? He could see me struggling to find an appropriate answer. I thought of all the things I could say. But nothing I could say felt right. Everything I would have said would have been said from judgment and fear. And what would have been the good of adding more of that to the world? I couldn't muster an inspired answer. Within a few moments, my nephew was on to other things. But I was in search of an answer.

When I turned on CNN, I was mesmerized by two different interviews with hostages who had escaped. They said they wanted to return to Mumbai to let the people of Mumbai know they are loved and that they did not deserve this tragedy. It was an extraordinary expression of gratitude and appreciation at a time when anger, resentment, fear and outrage would have been entirely understandable.

Listening to these two men I realized that their gratitude had grit in it and love - the grit of having faced death and survived and love for life, their life, all life.

I realized if my nephew asked me now, I would have an answer for him. The terrorists I would tell him are just an extreme example of people who have forgotten that love and gratitude are the most powerful forces on earth. I would tell him there are days when I forget it too.

Why Getting Lost is Sometimes A Divine Delivery

When Claudia and I boarded the tube (English for 'subway'), we boarded the wrong one. Quel surprise! We were looking for 'Westminster' so that we could make a second visit to Westminster Abbey ( the first time we arrived at closing time). But we couldn't find the location anywhere on the map. We were lost, again. Getting lost is a genius way of discovering a city. I get lost all the time in L.A. and I live there. The genius is that I always seem to need to be in the very place the following week that I got lost in the week before. Getting lost is never lost on me.

Once we got our bearings, and got back on the right tube, Claudia looked at me cheekily, as the tube glided to a stop at Notting Hill Gate, and said, 'We could go to the Portobello Market." With that, we jumped off the train and headed on an entirely different adventure.

Portobello Market is famous for its fabulous boutiques and shops of vintage this and vintage that, as well as its restaurants and bakeries and pubs. One of our stops at the end of our day, was a store filled with Indonesian, Tibetan and Indian masks, beads and Buddha sculptures as well as other religious icons. The shopkeeper buzzed us in the door and within seconds, the man asked us where we were from. Soon, it was clear that this entire day had been divinely orchestrated to deliver us to this shop. The shopkeeper turned out to be best friends with a man Claudia met 32 years ago at a party in Malibu, California, a man she knew had later moved to England. For the next 15 minutes they shared stories of friends and experiences. Then he picked up the phone and called their mutual friend. Claudia spoke with him and he invited her out to dinner.

Claudia called me moments ago to say that they had driven around in his car through the streets of London. He pointed out Sting's favorite pub, a place he often hangs out, and some of his favorite haunts. They went to dinner at a low key little joint and had a great meal. They talked of the past, of their children -- and they talked about where they were now. I cannot help but feel that something in that conversation was waiting 32 years to happen. For me, the meeting was confirmation of the magic and utter serendipity of life. Life can be exquisite if you let the Divine run the show.

The London Economy, A Bathroom Misadventure and a Lesson in humility and gratitude

I had dinner Saturday night in London, at my brother's home, with a bevy of family and friends. It was set to be an informal, casual affair. And it would have been a delightful evening -- though I expect utterly forgettable in the scheme of things had it not been for an unexpected bathroom misadventure.

The economy was on everyone's mind that night and we chatted back and forth comparing tales from the UK, US and Canada. There were two UK lawyers at the table, and one Canadian real estate entrepreneur and his girlfriend and their stories, Claudia, an American artist, myself and the children. The talk was about the hundreds upon hundreds of layoffs and all the other losses big and small. Everything was doom and gloomier. I got up to go to the bathroom - as much for a change of scene as anything. The nearest bathroom near our dinner table was a small 'powder room' . Once in, I had trouble locking the door. Once I tried to get out, I couldn't. I jiggled the lock but it would not budge. I tried pushing and pulling on the door - to no avail. I waited, tried again. Nothing. Tried again, no luck. The door was shut tight like a clam.

I stared at the door a while weighing my options. It struck me that this was exactly what people were feeling in the current economy -- faint, clausterphobic, even a bit panicky. I'd gotten off the London tube earlier that day because it felt like a narrow and confining sausage. Now I was facing another experience in confinement. I started rapping gently on the door - politely calling out for help. My cries for help fell on deaf ears. Nobody came. The irony of the experience did not escape me. The talk at the table was about the near-calamity of the economy and how there was no easy exit and there I was trapped in the bathroom.

After a few seconds, my generally optimistic and appreciative state of mind dissolved into abject panic. I began to shout - 'Hey! Hello! ' and my rapping took on the tenor of insistent open-handed hammering. My oldest nephew came running and said, 'Christiane, are you locked in?' Within a few seconds, he got me out of there with a little jiggling on the outside handle.

Just as we returned to the table and sat down, Jim, the Canadia real estate developer and entrepreneur left the table and headed for the bathroom. I thought about warning Jim but then decided I didn't know him well enough and that his vast accomplishments made him perfectly capable of mastering the loo.

Moments passed and I heard the sound of a jiggling door. The other guests at the table were deep in conversation, talking loudly, laughing, generally oblivious and unconcerned. I was the only adult - having suffered the recent indignity of being stuck in the bathroom - with her ear tuned to the happenings down the hall. The jiggling did not sound promising.

My niece and nephew jumped to their feet first and ran down the hall. "Jim, are you okay? Are you locked in?" I could hear the children peppering the closed door with their concern. And I could hear nothing of Jim. Concerned, I got up from the table and headed out to help.

When I got to the bathroom door, the children were jiggling the door handle.I pressed my face to the door and spoke loudly. 'Jim, do you need help? Are you trying to get out?'

There was silence from inside the loo. I thought back to Jim's conversation earlier in the evening and how he had told us that Canadians were faring better than their UK and US counterparts because Canadians were always a tad more conservative or boring in their financial dealings. Everyone chimed in at once about how lovely boring suddenly sounded.

After a few more moments of silence, there came a calm squeek of curious bewilderment and then a polite stream of words as if Jim had been calmly assembling his chosen words from a box of scrabble letters . 'Ahhh....Nooooo, I am not... trying.... to get out and I ...don't... think(!) I need any help.' The children and I looked at each other in shock realizing the error of our ways. He wasn't locked in at all! We had just disturbed an unsuspecting Canadian in the bathroom.

Seconds later, Jim returned to the table. I leaned into him trying to explain that I had been locked in the bathroom moments before and was afraid he had suffered the same fate. As he looked at me unable to disguise a wide grin, dinner conversation ceased. Everyone turned to look at Jim. The air was pregnant with glee -- everyone could feel it.

"I thought I could steal away discreetly....unnoticed," said Jim, enjoying his sudden non-boring notoriety. ".... then I hear children's voices asking if I'm okay in there... then an adult's voice," Jim throws an eyebrow-askew look my way and continues on, ".... asking if I need help getting out of the bathroom and if I was trying to get out. No, I said, I don't need any help..and I am not trying to get out!"

Hysterical laughter and folly ensued. My youngest nephew piped up with one more question. "Were you caught with your pants ....or your underpants...down?" The room exploded in windy gails of laughter.

Jim, the Canadian entrepreneur, had taught us all a good lesson in how to get out of the bathroom -- or out of the perception that you can't get out of the bathroom, especially when it is not locked and everyone else thinks it is. Adopt calm, boring, certainty that you will get out. And have a sense of humour about it. Jim seemed to know what the rest of us at the table had forgotten. If you think you're trapped, you are. If you think you're not, you're not. Getting caught with your proverbial pants down - whatever the cause - doesn't have to be the disaster we think it is. It can become an opportunity to practice humility, adopt humor, and count your blessings.

It's Komo not Komodo

8:30pm. My little nephew, is up. I can hear him - way past his bedtime. I lumber up the stairs to see what's what. There he is in his pyjamas, one leg lifted in a yogic pose like his father taught him. 'Christi-ahne', he says pronouncing my name in that delightful British manner he has. "I am hung-ahry." Well come with me, then. And down we go hand in hand to the kitchen. What do you want to eat? He spins circles around the open island and table and chairs. I dunno, he says. How 'bout a yogurt, I say, as I open the fridge. No, he says shaking his head. How 'bout some toast? A sandwich, he says. I think a sandwich is too much for him at this time of night, so we compromise. He asks for a bagel. 'Komo, can I have this with your special recipe?' My special recipe? He looks up at me and smiles, 'Butta. I like the way you butta the bagel!' Oh, I laugh.

Komo is Korean for 'father's sister' and thus is the word for 'auntie'. Since landing here, I have learned a few things about my status as 'auntie'. First of all it is 'Komo' not Komodo. He reminds me when I stumble on the word that I am an 'auntie' not a dragon. Secondly, when announcing my new name, my nephew stands erect, places his hands together in prayer and bows gracefully...while winking at me cheekily. Third, I am a 'nicey' not a 'meanie'. That's a good thing. I haven't been here a long time, and he has already figured that out.

As he spins around the kitchen tonight, chewing his bagel in great speedy mouthfuls, I suggest to him that he slowwww his chewing. He looks at me and chews faster. Something comes over me and I say to him, 'Let's do the chewing ballet!' He stops and stares at me as my arms shoot out in front and behind me and I launch into a particularly silly pas de deux, all the while chewing outrageously slowly. My nephew finds this utterly amusing as he creates his own version of a chewing ballet -- exaggerated slow chewing and lots of leaping and bounding. I tell him the 'chewing ballet' can be done any time day or night -- and is especially good after eating and before swimming or sleeping. You know, I tell him, if you eat before swimming and don't digest your food properly, you can drop like a stone to the bottom of the pool. He looks at me as if he's heard it all before, hands me the last of his bagel, and yawns. He's heard it all before and he's had enough. "Go to sleep, Komo," he says, taking my hand.

Optimism a world away...in an English pub....

Thursday night, Nov 20th, Earl's Court, London, England.

Do English pubs offer a good sampling of the mood of the times? I am in London, England for a number of weeks for holiday and work, and my friend, Claudia, who decided to travel to Europe at the same time, is joining me in an English pub. She is staying in the Earl's Court district, in London, England, and we find ourselves drawn into the warmth and bustle of an English pub. After looking over the menu, we decide to share a plate of good 'ol fish n' chips. A man sitting at the bar takes a seat near us and strikes up a conversation about the fish n'chips. 'This is 'bout the last good fish 'nchips in London. Used to be you could grab some hot in a newspaper. Newspaper soaked up the grease and kept it warm. It was the best. But not any more...with the goddamn health regulations....' he says, trailing off.


Claudia gobbles up the fish. I find the fish a tad fishy and greasy for my palate. I eat a few of the large lukewarm fries, dipped in Heinz' ketchup and wash them down with a Corona. Claudia boldly drinks a dark ale. I taste it....and wince, once, twice. The man looks at me and smiles. 'Don't have the temper for it, do ya?' I shake my head. Yugh-uck. He tells us he is from Rhodesia originally and has a house in California but moved to London to be with his ailing sister. I ask him how he was feeling right now about the economy. He had worse things to say about the weather. A young man with a hoarse voice standing behind him said the economy was just fine. 'It can rattle you if you let it, ' he said, smiling at me, 'but I don't let it.'

As we are leaving, two men sit down, both as it turned out from New Zealand. One man, an owner of a Subway franchise strikes up a conversation with Claudia. The other began talking to me. We never got around to exchanging names before we dove into a conversation about President-Elect Barack Obama, the economy, and the necessity of looking at everything as an opportunity. 'Seems we could talk all night and save the world by the end of it, ' he said, laughing. It was only 6pm -- and by that time, jet lag had set in for Claudia. We left the pub feeling joyful -- happy to have met some like-minded souls -- and happy to be embarking on a new adventure.

Oh boy...is this true!

“When you put out the intention that you want to break out of the stranglehold on your infinity, then you will attract to you what is necessary to do that...all hell will break loose....when you ask to be freed. You will attract to you what will break down barriers between our incarnate selves and our infinite selves.” David Icke

Oh boy...is this true!!

FLOW, GROW, CREATE -- A mantra for evolutionary times!

I AM CLEAR.....We are ALL being called to FLOW with change, to GROW beyond our ego-based comfort zones, to let go, to render fear irrelevant,and to CREATE from a spirit of service, truth, freedom, joy, vision, integrity, inclusion - and love, appreciation and gratitude, the highest vibrations in the universe. (Never before -- has it been so important to adopt a consciousness of love, appreciation and gratitude - the vibratory frequency of the Divine, the vibratory frequency that transmutes and transforms all lesser vibrations (lack, fear,greed, worry, doubt, anger, resentment, guilt..you get the picture.) )

ONE FOR ALL ALL FOR ONE. This is true abundance. President Elect Barack Obama embodies this — and all of us – all of us — paved the way with our own work (years and years) of self-transformation to allow for and support this historic event. President-Elect Barack Obama galvanized us all — because we are ready for a new world of true abundance, a world where unity, balance, vision, heart prevails -- we are ready and and we chose it! It was not only a POLITICS of change we were seeking with the election of Barack Obama, it is a CONSCIOUSNESS OF CHANGE.

I have lived in the United States for 11 years, and I have never been more excited to be here.
It is extraordinary - renders me speechless - to watch the elegant, eloquent, visionary majesty of Barack Obama stride through the halls of the White House as he has done recently with President Bush next to him. To see these two men -- so vastly different -- sitting together, speaking together and one handing the mantle over to the other in a few short weeks....Oh my God, how TIMES HAVE CHANGED. We did this! We all did this!! THANK YOU GOD! And then to see his beautiful family -- the generations of his family -- all of them - young, old, and the Bidens -- all of us, all of our unique ancestries and colors, and genders...all of us together!!!

Amen ! Amen! Amen! OBAMAhhhhh! is the EVOLUTIONARY CHOICE...the most natural EVOLUTIONARY CHOICE for these profoundly, overwhelmingly EVOLUTIONARY times. I say this...as I have been chanting the deep ah sound of creation embodied in Obama's name(!) for weeks now ...Obamahhh! Obamahhhh! Obamahhhh! (Since I could not vote, I had to vote with my voice!)

As the Elders of the Hopi Indians – and President-Elect Barack Obama - said - ‘We are the ones we have been waiting for.’ “

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OBAMAH !!! OBAMAH!!! OBAMAH!!!


whoooooooooooooo hooooooooooooooooooooooooo


REJOICE REJOICE REJOICE!!!!!!!!

I AM!!!!!!!!!

The Universe Meets You Where You Are!

LIVE LARGER proclaimed a billboard as I drove up La Cienega blvd the other day.

On Santa Monica Blvd, on an oatmeal colored awning, the name of a hair salon: TRUST!

***
We are on a need to know basis with the universe. Anything we need to learn, we will learn as we need to learn it. Like learning to grow past an old habit--sometimes it is the little things in daily life that show us just what shape that growth must take. This afternoon as I was driving to Marina del Rey, the nose of an orange hot-rod lurched into traffic, narrowly missing my car. I gestured at the driver angrily. He shot me a dazzling smile, his bulging tattoed arm gesturing for my understanding. He was so happy, having such a great day -- and there I was scowling at him for pulling into my lane without properly announcing himself. Then another car pulled ahead of me and the bumper sticker said everything: Honk, if you are a dummkopff! I laughed out loud.

My German music teacher in high school (a loooong time ago) used to use words like dummkopff to remind us that we were taking ourselves way too seriously. Why did I want to waste even one more second scowling and sending any negative energy outward? What a dummkopff I was, indeed! My scowling raised my heart rate and made me rush with adrenaline and perpetuated an old habit -- my mind worked overtime with judgments when I wasn't present to the moment, and when I was triggered by fear! How fascinating!

If I had been more in the moment, more in my heart, I might have slowed to meet him. I might have even been gentle, forgiving, understanding, sweet. I might have even matched his dazzling smile. But I wasn't 'there' -- I was off in thinking-worry land. That guy actually probably did me a favor -- and it is only now that I can see it. He got me to be present, present to the perfection of the moment where all abundance is - and I could be grateful to him for that! I could also be grateful that nothing happened. Our cars were safe, we were safe, others were safe. The day continued to unfold like a bolt of brilliant shining cloth.

The universe always meets us where we are. If we spend our time grumbling in judgment about the way something happened, the universe will keep our world as small and contracted as the fear to which we are wedded. If we drop the judgment and give others (and ourselves) the benefit of the doubt, we will find bigger miracles await. Like the driver in the limo a couple of hours later who gave me the right of way -- stopped in the middle of the road, kept other traffic waiting and let my car in. I had nosed out into traffic after getting gas and had not really signalled (ah hem..what orange hot rod had I judged earlier for the same behavior!) and the driver of the limo smiled at me and generously let me in. Grace in the little things is Grace in the big things.

Everything is the way it is for a reason. Everything that happens has a destiny to it. It is part of our unfolding growth. When we are willing to grow, to look kindly at something we do and be willing to soften, open, feed the meter of the realm with coins of appreciation, love, kindness, gentleness, forgiveness, generosity rather than fear, doubt, judgment, anger and worry, the universe meets us there...with bells on.