The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein

Here is one of my favorite stories that illustrates the point made in my sister’s blog so beautifully!

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Mirror Work

Body Image

Recovering!

I woke up later than what I had set as much challenge, but despite it all I took my cold shower.

Last night I thought: “Tomorrow I’ll take a warm shower to relax”, but this morning, I just felt like a cold shower was needed. so after I jump right under, It felt cleansed, in a spiritual way. My mind started to quite. I felt so calm and relaxed, like a load was taken off my shoulders.

I always make up songs under the cold shower, and today, Inspired by Ibeyi’s River

(not the same beat) I sang “I come to you water” ” I give you this load” “take it all away” “wash me with love”. It felt so nurturing, which is what I needed after yesterday’s frustration.

I also forgot to share the video blog inspired by my morning pages from the day before so here it is..

Transcending Suffering:

I have realized that I just need to be.. doing has it’s place, but being is so important for sanity!

Today I will heal myself.

Man…today makes me want to just give up!

Unlike yesterday, which was a day of epiphany, today was horrific. There is a jewelry piece I have been working on forever. First I melted a part of it twice, then after remaking the melted piece for the third time, I decided to change the way I was connecting them. Then after all the pieces were connected I proceeded to set the stones, this is after days of work, and 10 hours of work just today. Bad idea!!  I should have just went home while I was ahead.

Well I set the stone but the bezel cups were soldered together, so I thought why not just saw them apart… hahahaha.. wow.. I mean genius!! so after all the trials and errors and mistakes and finally raising the fine silver to set the stones in it, I fucked up the bezel setting.

At this point I had spent 12 hours in my studio, on this stupid piece which wasn’t going to work, at least not today!

I just feel exhausted, and helpless. Why couldn’t just work? Why? I worked so many hours on it..

I was being a perfectionist.. I wanted to use a thin wire with balled up ends to connect the bezel cups together, well the problems was that the the wire would ball up, but would not ball up all the way, it left a gap between the bezel cups, but I wanted them snug to each other. I was doing this to two pairs of bezel cups that were going to all be worn together. Well the wire balled up snug for one pair but would not work on the other pair..

I thought the gap looked unintentional, and it would be weird if this pair had a different connection. So after literally trying to ball up the end 30 times or more, (the balled up end would sometimes just fall off), I decided to connect them by just soldering them together.

However, when you are soldering bezel cups, you have to make sure the top part of the bezel doesn’t get soldered to the other piece, otherwise you can’t set the stones properly, well, since at this point I was frustrated, and “just wanted to get done!” i rushed, and did not take the cautionary measures, and hence the bad connection of the bezel cups and the fucked up setting.

I just wanted to be done!!! that’s all!! I was so tired of working on the damn thing! I had made my own super fucking high step bezels.. made a piece with a hinge and a bezel, and these four pieces were just waiting to connect…

makes me want to quite…

That’s the thing though… I shouldn’t have pushed it, I had planned to start a new piece, but got too caught up on the end result and didn’t enjoy the process anymore! I hated every minute of it.. and that is sad because I have been really enjoying going to my studio..

When my goal becomes about selling the piece, I want it to look perfect, and when that becomes my focus, it usually never comes out perfect, and I hate the whole process, but then when I don’t make it to sell it, I think “what’s the point?”

What is the point?

To enjoy myself.. express myself.. learn..

What kept happening today was that I kept imagining my piece at the crits at school. Crits were just shitty.. You would spend hours and days on a piece, and people would tear it to pieces in the matter of a few minutes.. The better you were at looking “intentional” the more of a chance of survival..

Sure constructive criticism can be useful but crits are only constructive when you learn to love yourself and your work first.. you have to have self love, and confidence in your work before you can take a crit as constructive.. I certainly did not have that back in school, and clearly still need to work on it today..

This is the piece in it’s planning stage:

stupid piece

I was making something similar to number one.

Anyway. Not sure what to do now.. Need a break..

I am going to do something nice for myself.. and move on!

Peonies are magical!

I haven’t talked about Eckhart Tolle yet, but I have to say that his book “A New Earth” was transformational in our family and my life.

The reason I mention him is that I read a wonderful blog post written by Geneen Roth on the Eckart Tolle page, that I find inspiring. It found its way to my life at just the perfect time. So here it is:

When Life Gets Hard

I bought thirty-six peonies yesterday at Trader Joe’s. They were having a sale, six stems for $6.99 and although my grandmother would have disapproved—she wouldn’t buy flowers because “they always die”—I decided that staggering beauty was at least as important as Greek yogurt. As the cashier—a twenty-something woman with pink hair, three silver nose rings and a rainbow-serpent tattoo twining around her left arm—was ringing up one double-ruffled bunch after the other, she said, “forty-two dollars and worth every penny!” I nodded and thought of the lines from the Mary Oliver poem about peonies and their “eagerness/to be wild and perfect for a moment before they are nothing, forever.” (I like the wild and perfect part, but I’m not so sure about being nothing forever).

As I was arranging the flowers in a vase, my friend Sabine called. “My brother had another brain aneurysm,” she blurted. “He is in critical condition, they don’t know whether he will survive the night.” After another minute she said, “I don’t want to be the only one left in my nuclear family.” When I hung up the phone, I thought once again how difficult it is to be in a human body. How everything is taken away, either quickly as in having a brain aneurysm or slowly, as in getting old and losing one function after another. (Note to self: if there is reincarnation, and if anyone is listening, I’m not coming back. Besides avoiding brain aneurysms and dementia, not having to go through high school again is at the top of the list.)

A spiritual teacher once told me that “what’s real never dies.” That whatever you can lose in a shipwreck (clothes, money, people, your life) wasn’t yours to begin with. And that you might as well spend your life paying attention to what can never die otherwise you get to the end, and you can’t believe you are actually dying and are about to lose everything you love: your cat, your iPad, your body.

Since I didn’t want to be hanging on to my pink angora sweater when I took my last breath, I attended dozens of meditation retreats, took trips to India, practiced presence. But, no matter how much I sensed, practiced, and meditated, I was haunted by the feeling of not enough–not enough success, not enough money, not enough love—and the attendant belief that having enough meant having more. I was absolutely convinced that enough was a quantity, and that once I reached that magical amount—which was a moving target, and always more than I had at any given moment—I could relax, be at peace, be comfortable in my own skin.

Then, six years ago, my husband and I lost every dime of our combined thirty-year life savings in a Ponzi scheme. I was already well practiced in disasters and catastrophes— I’d almost died from a drug reaction, had suffered with a long-term debilitating illness, and had been in three near-fatal car accidents, one of which landed me in a wheelchair for a few months. After each event, the day-to-day experience of being alive, of looking and listening, of touching and tasting felt magically luminous in even the most ordinary situations. But within a short time, my familiar self reconstituted and I was back to seeing through haunted and hungry eyes. When we lost our money, however, I felt as if a fire roared through my life as I knew it, and burned it to the ground.

And although I’ve written about this event and its many repercussions in my book Lost and Found, it occurred to me last month—I’m a slow learner—that nothing has been the same since. Eckhart might call it “a shift.” Carlos Castaneda in the Don Juan books might refer to it as “moving the assemblage point.” And what I would call it is an ongoing recognition of beauty and sufficiency. Because living with the terror and shame following the loss was like running on broken glass, I needed to be fierce about redirecting my attention, moment to moment, on what really mattered. Sensing my hands, my legs, my inner body was no longer a luxury, it was a necessity—and the only place in which I could rest.

Before we lost our money, I wrote and taught about the inner life, about what it takes to be at peace in earth school—while secretly harboring the belief that true fulfillment was still to be found in the world and in the future. But after we lost our money, and because wandering one millimeter away from this exact moment (where nothing was wrong or lacking) felt like going insane with grief and terror, I realized that what I had been looking for (in relationships and in success, in chocolate and in wealth but mostly in more of anything or everything) was here the whole time. In the smoothness of the cup in my hand, in the click of my heel on the pavement, in the sound of the hummingbird’s wings. In the fact that water came out of a faucet when I turned it. It was as if I’d been blind and half-dead for sixty years and was suddenly sprung into a life brimming with color and double-ruffle peonies.

When you’ve lost your money and think you might be living with your dog and your husband in a friend’s trailer and you feel—for the first time—indescribably unbelievably stunningly rich, you realize there is nothing to find or have or get that you don’t already have. You realize that for every doubt, for every fear, for every question you’ve ever had, there is only one answer, and it is now.

Geneen is the best-selling author of Women Food and God and Lost and Found, and her supportive retreats for women in the inspiring Santa Cruz mountains of California explore how our relationship to food is an exact microcosm of our relationship to life itself. Join Geneen and Eckhart as they discuss her teachings on Eckhart Tolle TV.

What’s Stopping You From Achieving Your Resolution List?

Happy Holidays!! Wanted to share this little epiphany I had a few days ago about a key element that is stopping me from achieving my dream of reaching financial success through doing what I love, it’s the same thing that stops anyone from taking action towards achieving their wishes and goals. You’ll see what I mean….