The Holy Cafe

Imagine that Life is one big cafe.
You come in, sit down, and look at the menu.
What are you hungry for?
Hmmm.
There are so many distractions. The jukebox is playing, and you didn't choose the tune. You get up, fumbling with the change in your pocket, and examine the choices. There are SO many, it's overwhelming and, besides, other people have put in their quarters already, and chosen a lifetime of songs. What's the use? You sit down again, discouraged, figuring you'll handle the problem later. In the meantime, you'll just have to listen to other people's music.
The waitress comes over, pen and pad in hand. "What'll it be?" she asks, popping her gum.
Decisions, decisions. You look at the menu again. Marriage. Children. A career. This house or that house. This car, or that car. This city or that city. This church, that church, or no church at all.
Yeesh.
You ask her to come back later.
She sighs and goes away.
You peer at the menu again. You check your watch. Time is passing.
You'd really like to order that special--the great marriage, with a good career on the side, but do you deserve it? Do you have the wherewithal to pay for it? Maybe you should settle for something less. You count the change in your pocket. Yes, maybe you should settle for less.
The waitress comes back. She's getting impatient. "I don't have all day," she mutters.
Neither do you, as it happens. If there's one thing you're conscious of, it's the passage of time. You're starting not to recognize the songs on the jukebox. The scenery outside the window is changing, season to season. Furthermore, you're getting really hungry. What if you choose the wrong thing? What if, when the bill comes, you don't have enough to pay? Will they let you wash dishes, or have you arrested?
Pressure, pressure.
DECIDE, says the Universe. But kindly. The Universe isn't tapping its foot. The Universe is--well, the Universe--and it has, literally, all the time there is.
You are getting older and wiser, and suddenly you look around the cafe and you realize you're the only one there. How did that happen? The jukebox is playing the songs you didn't choose. You call the waitress over and ask why. She answers that if you don't choose, the thing operates by default. Plays whatever songs, at random. Frankly, she wishes you'd make a decision, because she's tired of all those sad ballads. How about a little Reggae? How about some John Phillip Sousa? How about some good ole rock n roll??
"I don't have much money," you confide, ashamed, even though you don't think this waitress is especially friendly.
That's when she hits you with the truth.
This is your cafe.
You choose the songs.
You choose the food.
And, best of all, there isn't any bill, because you own the place.
NOW what will you ask for?
Added caveat: The cafe scenario was inspired by my friend Chellie Campbell's wonderful book, "The Wealthy Spirit." I simply embellished it.

Thoughts on homes and hearts

I came to a great realization today, in my journaling, as I often do. (Are you doing your morning pages? I am a mother, and thus very skilled at nagging. I won't let you off the hook on this one!)

We pass through stages in our lives. As women, we are Diana, goddess of the hunt, early in our lives. We are looking for the things and people that will complete us. Searching, seeking, striving and pushing. Oh, it's exhausting! But it IS a natural part of the life cycle, and all women must pass through it on the way to wholeness, on the path to discovering what was there all the time: the true self. Then there is Athena, the warrior goddess. She fights for what she wants. She's strong and vital. Some of us stay way too long in the Athena stage. And there is poor Demeter, searching for her lost child. Some of us have to pass that way, and most likely, no woman ever faces a greater ordeal. That child might not literally be lost, as in abducted, or taken from us at a too-early age. Sometimes, that child is wandering in dark and dangerous forests. What can we do? Keep the Home Fires burning. Pray and wait. Open your heart, and let it be a warm place to come home to.

I am 56 years old, and I have come, at long last, to a very peaceful and rewarding place. I am Hestia, keeper of the hearth. I have made a home of my own heart, and I am committed to keeping the floors swept, the cupboards full, and the fire burning. My books reflect this. They are way-stations for the weary, distracted heart and mind.

So come in. Sit a while. Rest your mind, body and spirit. You are welcome here. Welcome at the McKettricks' kitchen table. Welcome on the trail ride, and under the broad sweep of stars gracing the night sky. Even welcome, in NEVER LOOK BACK, to share in Clare's quest for justice and truth. (She is definitely Athena!)

Don't worry. Don't fret. You are in exactly the right place, and if the journey seems long and difficult at times, don't despair. You are following an ancient path. In time, you will come home to your own heart. You will settle comfortably into your own skin.

In the meantime, wherever you are on your journey, know that others have traveled this way before. It's a hard road, but beautiful. Oh, breathtakingly beautiful. It's a scary, too, some of the time. But it leads to a wonderful place.

YOU.

The British spirit

The British are brave. When they talk about keeping a stiff upper lip, they mean it.
And they are back in the game--after One Day. That's typical of them, you know. They faced down the Spanish Armada. They went to the cliffs of Dover in rowboats and saved countless Allied soldiers, stranded on the beach. They've slept in subways to avoid Nazi bombs and done without the most basic necessities without a whimper. They've seen whole neighborhoods leveled--imagine September 11, day after day, year after year. That's what happened, during the Second World War. And even that didn't keep them down, because they truly believe, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." A people who will not surrender to fear can never really be conquered.

The terrorists, meanwhile, huddle in their little dirty little hidy-holes, incomprehensibly proud of their cowardice. What spineless wonders they are.

By definition, terrorists seek to inspire terror. They want to undermine the British and American ways of life. The best way to fight them is to go right on being who we are, and doing what we do.

No matter what is going on in the outside world, fear is a choice, and so is courage.

Today, kiss your children. Play with your dogs. Revel in your good work. Be happy.

Oh, how the terrorists hate that we're happy.

So let's all get a little happier, and then happier still.

London

For several years, London was my second home. I kept a flat in Hans Place, behind Harrod's, and spent many happy times there. I came to love the humor and bravery of the British people.

It breaks my heart that London has been attacked. But if there is one thing I know, it is how courageous the British really are. The Blitz could not defeat their spirit, and neither will the terrorists, however unconscionable their acts.

May God bless and keep my beloved Brits.

The story you star in

Okay, so we've gotten it, that writing our own "movies" doesn't work very well. The cast is unruly. The sets change constantly. It rains when sunshine would suit our plot-line better, etc.

Etc. Etc. Etc.!

But there IS a story, and it stars you. It's your own, authentic life. The little you, becoming the big, true you. To some extent, it's an autobiography--nothing lets us off the hook for making responsible, day-to-day choices. That's our part.

It came to me in my journaling this morning that our lives are really biographies, and the Author is God. We can kick and struggle and resist, and generally raise a lot of dust--which we will promptly choke on. And when it all settles, we will look around and ask ourselves, yet again, "What have I done?"

OR we can trust the Author. We can live this page of the story with joy and acceptance and love, and no matter what twists and turns the plot might take, we can believe the Author has only good things in mind for us.

Let's just live, with courage and trust in the Master Storyteller, and see what happens.
Personally, I think it's going to turn out GREAT.