CONNECTEDNESS

Connectedness is the energy we feel when we have joined the dance.It is what “happens” when we realize, when we acknowledge with gratitude, that we and our world are one. It is what “happens” when we know there is no separation between ourselves and a blossoming tree-ourselves and a blade of grass-ourselves and the infinite Universe.

I have been trying to write a story. I have been trying to put everything that happened on Saturday into words. Until now, the right words have eluded me, but I’m beginning to understand why. I was so focused on the details that I missed the message. I didn’t see the big picture Spirit was showing me. I couldn’t see it, because I was standing in the way.
And just now, my message found me:

CONNECTEDNESS ISN’T SOMETHING THAT HAPPENS, IT IS SOMETHING THAT ALREADY IS.

I awoke Friday morning to an interview in progress. The clock-radio went on; an author was speaking. She was talking about angels, how she had written over twenty books about them. Then she paused and the interviewer spoke. “I’m sure everyone would love to hear how your first publisher found you,” he said. She was about to tell her story, when I lost the station. Suddenly, all I could hear was static.

Ordinarily, I would have tried to fix the reception. But something told me not to try. Something said, “stay where you are.” “Don’t move.” So, I listened to the whisper.

Eventually, silence broke the static and then the reception returned. The author was speaking. She was talking about a conversation she had had with God. She wanted to know why there had been so many delays, so many disappointments. She wanted to understand why it had taken so long for her dream to happen.

Shortly after this Divine conversation, her “big break” came. “I was in the right place at the perfect time,” she said. “God made it happen.”

I held onto her story. Over and over again, I replayed her words in my head.

The next day, my husband and I were attending a funeral for his uncle. We were late getting to the church; the mass was half-over. So we sat in the back row. As I scanned the room for familiar faces, I was immediately struck by something: I didn’t recognize anyone. I turned to my husband and whispered to him. “I know it’s been a long time, but no one looks familar to me,” I said. “Do you know any of these people?

Looking around, he realized we were in the wrong place.

As discreetly as possible and without saying a word, we both stood up and turned around. In that exact moment, someone I knew walked through the door. It was a friend I hadn’t seen in over a year. I had been thinking about her; she had been thinking about me. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said.

“Is this the Miller funeral,” I asked as we hugged.

“No,” she said, “This is the Arena family.”

“We’re at the wrong funeral,” I whispered.

“I’ll call you,” she said.

Eventually, we made it to the right church.

After a lovely mass, John and I joined his family for lunch. A woman I never met before sat directly across from me and introduced herself. I noticed the vest she was wearing. It had an applique of a piano on it.Earlier in the week, at the suggestion of a friend, I had enrolled Thomas in a piano class.

“Are you a pianist,” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m a piano teacher.”

“I just signed my son up for piano lessons,” I said.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she replied. “You know studies are showing how important music is to children- how it stimulates intellectual and creative growth,” she continued.

We had a wonderful conversation. She told me what qualities to look for in a teacher. She said I needed to make sure their teaching style matched my son’s learning style. She reiterated information a dear friend had recently shared with me- a dear friend who is also a piano teacher.
We said our goodbyes and I thanked her for all the helpful information. At the same time, an elderly man made his way across the room and sat in her chair. “So Robin, tell me, how is your book going,” he said.

I didn’t know this man. I had never seen him before. But my husband had met him at the wake. John told me about him, that he had published his first book and was writing another one. He had told John to have me call him. He wanted to tell me how he had found a publisher.

I noticed that this man was wearing two hearing aids.

He was a sweet and gentle soul who wanted to tell me his story. So, I smiled at him and listened. He was a retired teacher, who had devised a method of learning through touch and wrote a book about it. He told me that, although he had received many testimonials from his students, publishers were not impressed.

Then, pulling his chair closer to mine, he said, “But, listen to what happened next.”

He told me had been researching publishers and found one that sounded like a good prospect. He had sent out a query, but received a rejection letter in return. It was one of the kindest, most thoughtful leters he had ever received, he said. The publisher liked his idea, but wasn’t sure it was marketable.

A few months later, the author attended an out of town dinner party. He was visiting friends who lived hundreds of miles from his home. Knowing no one, he decided to strike up a conversation with the man who was seated next to him. The author asked the man what he did for a living. The man told the author he was a publisher.

Not only was he a publisher, but the same publisher who had kindly rejected the author’s work. As it turned out, they became best friends.And the publisher published the book he had originally rejected.

Hugging him, I thanked the author for sharing his story and wished him well. He pointed to his ears and shook his head; he couldn’t hear me. I hugged him again and smiled. By then, everyone was getting ready to leave. So John and I walked outside to say our goodbyes.
As I opened the door, I felt the warmth of the sun. I winked at the sky. Filled with gratitude, I thanked Spirit for a most magical afternoon- for the invitation to dance.

BELIEVE

Thomas taught me a life lesson over the weekend. But before I tell you about it, I need to set things up for you. It happened on the heels of a conversation I had just had with my fifteen-year- old son, JP. He needed to buy a straightening iron for his hair. His old one broke, and he needed a new one. In other words, he needed me to buy him a new one. So, I made a suggestion. I told him to get a job and pay for it himself.

"Maybe you could do odd jobs for people in the neighborhood," I said.

"Mom there's no way I could come up with that much money that fast," he said. "How am I supposed to make twenty dollars in one day?"

"JP, you're a smart kid," I said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"I doubt it," he said, as he walked out the door.

A few minutes later, my six-year- old, Thomas, appeared beside me.

"Mom, can I use the computer?," he asked. "I need to type some poems."

"Sure, but why do you need to type them," I asked.

"Oh, I'm going to sell them," he said. "That reminds me, could you please print them out for me when I'm done?"

"OK," I said, grateful he had found something constructive to do, not thinking he was really serious.

Following through on his request, I looked at the poems I had printed.

"Honey, these are someone else's poems," I said gently.

"I know, Mom." "Remember, I told you I was going to sell them," he said.

"But I didn't know you were planning on selling poems that belonged to someone else," I said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Well, it isn't OK to sell someone else's work," I explained. "That would be stealing."

After his short lesson on plagiarism, Thomas ripped up the pages I had printed.

"Great," he said. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

It was then that I came up with an idea. I suggested that he write his own poem. At first he didn't think he knew how. So I told him to look out his window into the backyard. I encouraged him to describe what he saw. As the words flowed, I typed them into the computer.

"I'll need ten copies," Thomas said.

"That's a lot of copies," I replied.

"Actually, I think I'll need more," he answered.

Knowing not to question him further, I honored his request.

Grabbing his papers, his dad, and an empty oatmeal container, he raced out of the house. About an hour later, I heard the front door slam. Then Thomas ran upstairs to give me the good news.

"Mom, I sold all my poems!" "Look," he said, dumping a pile of money on his bed. "I MADE TWELVE DOLLARS!"

Thrilled and beyond amazed, I hugged and congratulated him. It was time for dinner, so I told him to get ready. He told me he wasn't hungry-he wanted to sell more poems. Then, he asked me to walk around the rest of the block with him.

"It's dinner time, Thomas," I said. "People are eating."

"Can we go after dinner," he asked.

"I don't know, Honey," I said.

I was about to offer many excuses when he interrrupted me.

"Nevermind, Mom." "I'll ask Dad to take me," he said.

After dinner, I printed more poems out for Thomas. Then he and his dad went for a walk together. An hour later, they came home. This time JP was with me.

" Mom, I made more money!" Thomas said. "And a teenager gave me six dollars!" "Look, JP," he screamed, showing his big brother everything he had earned. "I MADE TWENTY DOLLARS TODAY!"

I looked at JP without saying one word.

The next day, I asked Thomas how he knew he could sell his poem. His answer is a lesson for us all.

"I just believed that I could," he said.

WHAT IS DIFFERENT

THE FLOWERS ARE BLOOMING
AND THE GRASS IS GREENER
THE TREES ARE STARTING TO BLOSSOM AND THERE IS NO SNOW
AND MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED AND THE TREES ARE GETTING THEIR LEAVES BACK
THE END
BY THOMAS VELLA

LIVING INTENTIONALLY

I was taking a shower when an arrangement of words took center stage in my head. They came from nowhere. They found me when I was thinking of nothing. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with them.

Later that day, while I was mopping the floor, I unraveled the mystery. For a split-second, I saw those same words in my mind. Then, I remembered a dream I had had the night before. I was strapped to a hospital bed. A doctor was injecting me with sodium pentathol. "It will help you sleep better", he whispered. As I continued mopping, I remembered that sodium pentathol was truth serum. Moments later, two quotes I hadn't thought about in years made themselves known: "To thine own self be true" and "The truth shall set you free."

As it turned out, the words that were whispered to me held a profound purpose. Eventually, I wrote a book around them. I wrote and ,little by little, I learned the truth. I began to understand the meaning behind the words that came through me to teach me. Now, twelve years later, I understand why they were given to me.

The book is finished. I'm in the process of finding a publisher. In the meantime, this is my intention- to share with you the life-changing lessons I have learned. So, I'll tell you some incredible stories as we walk this road together. I'm the one with the lantern in one hand and your hand in the other.

HOW DOES A CHANNEL, CHANNEL?

It has taken me fifteen years to answer a question: how does a channel, channel? How do I do what I do? And now I have an answer, because I am beginning to understand the process. It’s very simple, actually. First, I get quiet. Then, I listen. Then, I get out of the way and let Spirit write.

In other words, I do nothing.

That means I cannot even wonder whether I should use a comma or a dash. If I do, the information stops flowing. I stop the flow, because I am questioning the process. How do I know this is true? I’ve had it happen many, many times over the years. Any time I try to edit Spirit’s words in any way, I get edited out of the process. Spirit stops speaking, until I am quiet again.

So, how do I get quiet? I wish I could tell you that I turn off the lights, light candles and sit cross-legged on the floor. But that’s not the way it works for me. I can tell you what does work, though. My definition of meditation is lying in the grass and looking up at the sky, driving through the park at sunset, fishing in the rain…I have also had some very profound moments while sorting socks and mopping the kitchen floor. Truly, any time my mind is quiet, insights and revelations find me. Spirit doesn’t care how it happens.

We are all channels of Truth. We all hold the light of Divine Intelligence within us.Each and every one of us hears Spirit’s voice and interprets it in unique and special ways. We write. We paint. We sculpt. We sing. We walk. We run. We dance.

We get quiet. We listen. We get out of the way. We make room for our own light to find us.

IT'S ALL PART OF "THE PLAN"

I'm getting better at this. I'm learning how to embrace the adventure. I'm not waiting for things to happen anymore, because I know they are happening. The Universe is putting the plan into place. So, now, when something unexpected happens, instead of forgetting to breathe, I am remembering to take a breath. I take a breath and I hold it. And I say to myself, "OK, Robin, this must be part of the plan."Then I exhale; I let go of the fear. In other words, instead of letting something unexpected knock me off my feet, I am learning how to stay grounded.

Sometimes, it takes more than one breath to remind me to remember. Sometimes, I get sidetracked because I'm exhausted or frustrated or angry- because I'm trying so hard to understand what I don't understand. But, eventually, I remember the truth. Eventually it finds me when I come back HERE to my Higher Self -when I realize I have been holding my breath.

We all go THERE. For half-a second, or half- a day, for month or a year, or ten years...we forget there is a plan. We second-guess ourselves. We start thinking about the "what ifs", the whys, the wheres , the whens and the hows. We wonder when "it" is ever going to happen. We forget that limitless possibilites abound. We forget where our answers are and how to reach for them.
We hold onto the fear because, for a moment, we forget we know the truth.

Then, we take a breath and we remember.

We don't have to understand Spirit's plan. We don't have to know what it is- all the steps involved that will ultimately make "it" happen. We don't have to understand the process- what is happening, or why. All we need to do is trust that "IT" is in the process of finding us.
All we need to do is: take a breath, hold it and say to ourselves, "OK, this must be part of the plan."

p.s. I just went to the basement to take my clothes out of the dryer and discovered it isn't working. I had planned to do laundry. I had planned to get caught up on all the housework I need to do. But I just remembered something my son, Thomas, said to me this morning. I told him I had hurt my back. I told him maybe I should just keep moving around and it will feel better. And he said, "Mom, maybe you just need to relax."

THE SILENT CONVERSATION

I remember the silent conversation. It was very clear and to the point. And, at the time, I was sure that someone had made a mistake.

"You are going to write a book, and we are going to help you," they said.

When I say that those words came from out of nowhere, I am not exaggerating. They not only took me by surprise, they nearly made me drop my coffee cup. Still, I listened. I waited to hear the details. I sat in silence, waiting for more words, until I realized that they were waiting for me to "say" something.

"You must have the wrong person", I said. "I haven't written anything in years".

Looking back, I may have said that outloud (twelve years is a long time; the details are little hazy). But, back to the conversation.

"And there's something else you should know"(as if they didn't)." I'm a terrible procrastinator, my follow-through skills are worse, and I'm really, really hard on myself", I said, thinking I had just let myself off the hook.But it wasn't going to be that easy.

"Perfect", they said. And that was all they said. That was the end of the conversation.

That was a long time ago, and we did write that book together. Actually, they wrote the book. They whispered nine chapters worth of spiritual lessons to me., while I took dictation. And when I wasn't learning from them, I was experiencing those lessons in "real life". In fact, every circumstance of my life was teaching me the same lessons. Sometimes I recognized my "teacher". Sometimes I felt like I had wandered into the wrong classroom.Sometimes I wondered what, exactly, had I signed myself up for.

But that was then; and this is now. And now, I'm a different person. Now, I don't have to wonder anymore.

THE MAKING OF SOMETHING FROM NOTHING

When it comes to materializing thoughts into things, when it comes to creating some thing from no thing, we must be clear about what we truly desire to create. Not only must our creative intention be passionate and heartfelt, but the energies behind it must be pure as well. In other words, our soul must be peaceful, and our mind must be calm ,in order for LIGHT to find us.

That means, once we have made our “creation statement” to Spirit, we must step back and let our Higher Self figure out the details. We must let go of needing to control our circumstances, and place the order we have carefully crafted into the most capable hands we know. And then, we must turn around, walk away, close the door and allow Spirit to come up with the perfect plan.

Spirit is our ever-present, creative partner. Every moment of every day, it is creating a reality according to our specific instructions. Spirit knows how to create the reality we have requested. Now, we have to do our part. We have to let go of needing to know the details- the hows and the whens and the whys. We have to surrender all creative control to the Highest part of ourselves. We have to give Spirit time and space to bring the reality we have requested into our physical world.

We have to trust. We have to be patient. We have to know that the reality we desire to create is on its way to us- that, in fact, it is already here.