My Rhapsody Playlist for times when I need help feeling good about feeling bad.  Enjoy … or something.  Click here to listen to the songs

Melody Beattie

I’ve been talking a lot lately about the latest unexpected turn in my life story.  It’s healing to tell our story, especially whenit involves grief.  It’s how we process the unthinkable and integrate it into our life. We make the unthinkable at least somewhat acceptable.

We surrender. 

The first morning we wake up after a tragedy, the experience washes over us like a tsunami.  Waking up hurts.  It continues to hurt for however long it takes to heal, which always takes longer than we think it should, and it takes four times as long as other people think it should.

“Aren’t you over that yet?” people say, verbalizing what we ask ourselves. 

While those closest to us tire of hearing our story — and who can blame them — we don’t tire of telling it.  Hi.  My name is _____________ and _______________ just happened to me.  The first words out of our mouth describe the incident that’s turning us into a new person, someone we didn’t want to become – didn’t choose to be. But as annoying as it can be to the people who hear us talking about it day after day, we still can’t stop ourselves from telling our story to please them. 

The time comes, though, when we can take our communication a step further.

“I believe in God,” I told a friend.  “I know God’s real.  That just makes it worse, because I know how powerful God is.”

To another friend I said, “I don’t know what to say to God.  I’m at a loss for words.”

Just the awareness that I’d fallen away from prayer ignited a change.  I realized I’d been talking sometimes to the right people, sometimes to anyone who would listen, and sometimes to the wrong people – the ones who had snide remarks as a reply — but I hadn’t been talking to my Higher Power, God as I understand God.

I’d walk by the temple in the middle of my home, briefly acknowledge its presence, then keep on walking and keep on talking – to everyone but God.  My indifference to the temple symbolized the indifference I felt toward God. With this awareness that I hadn’t been communicating with my Higher Power, I found myself organically, without much effort, making prayer a priority again. 

Why do I forget to do that which will help the most? Why do I systematically ignore those simple acts, behaviors that take so little time, that have such enormous payoff?  I do it over and over again. 

Oops. 

Over the past years, I’ve learned that my day goes better if I start it with a good breakfast.  I’ve also learned that my day goes better if I begin it with prayer.  I have the greatest respect for all religions and spiritual paths. Agnostics and atheists can believe what they will, but I know what’s true for me:  prayer works.

Even if I just say, “I’m at a loss for words, God,” or recite a pre-written prayer,  paying attention to the meaning of each phrase, it helps.

Prayer changes things.  It changes me.

When I go through a loss, what I miss most is that sense of being led by my Higher Power.  The easiest way to get back that sense of guidance is to ask for it, and ask for it by going directly to the Source.  At a loss for words? Sometimes, “Help” is all we need to say. How hard is that?When it comes to prayer, a little bit goes a long way.

Amen. 

Melody Beattie

Some of you have asked me to let you know before instead of after-the-fact when and where I’m going to make an appearance.  Thought I’d  let you know that next week  — Wednesday, October 12  at 4:00 o’clock pm Eastern Time; 1:00 pm Pacific —  (add two hours to Pacific if you’re in Minnesota), I’ll be visiting with Dr. Jennifer Howard on her radio show, “A Conscious Life.”  Her show’s goal is to help  listeners take charge of their lives.  It holds the promise of being a good interview as Dr. Howard is a real pro and cares about what she does — and I’m raw as all get out.  Never can tell what might happen.

It would also give me the opportunity to connect with you using our voices for a change.  If you have time, tune in.  Just click here to to join us: www.drjenniferhoward.tv/radio.  Doesn’t get much easier than that.

Besides, it will help  make up for all the blogs I’ve missed lately.  Thinking about doing some on boundaries and more on standing up for ourselves.  Have you seen what one woman did by speaking up?  She has a Petition ready for Bank of America stating how customers feel about the threatened extra charge for using a debit card.  Crazy.  The bank will make millions off from this one small charge — one small charge that means a lot when the budget is tight.  Bank of America may or may not pay attention, but it (the Petition) sends a message to the other banks that are considering it too.  If this keeps up, we’ll need quarters to use the restrooms on airplanes before long.  It’s time for the buck to stop here.  Literally.  With each of us.   Okay — back to the paperwork, but join us next week if you can.

Melody Beattie

Faith is knowing there’s a light at the end of the tunnel — even if it’s turned off.

Be back soon blogging away; for now, I’m crushed by paperwork.

Meanwhile, could someone turn on that light? Please?

Oh, I see. No, I don’t see the light. I see that nobody can do it for me, and that walking in the darkness when I don’t know where each step will land or where I’m headed is what I’m meant to do. Each step I take is like the light you turn on by clapping your hands. Only this light we turn on by taking that next step.

Okay, but I’m not happy about it. Oh. Nobody said I had to be (happy). That’s my choice. How about this — I let myself feel whatever I feel. That’s a novel concept. No, I didn’t invent it.

With all the pain, anger, frustration, sadness, I wouldn’t eliminate feelings from life if someone gave me the choice. It would take all the color and passion away. No, thank you. I’ll pass on the anti-depressants. Not because they’re bad or wrong; just because my body doesn’t like them. Dang thing wants to feel whatever is there. Can you beat that?

I’m raw. I cry. I plug away at this thing — this reconstruction of my life after “allegedly being embezzled out of almost half a million dollars” — especially when you count the added costs. Then it’s more like, well, six or seven hundred thousand dollars. What’s the price of a year of  life?

I’ve heard there’s a purpose for this. Doesn’t help me to hear that. I’ve heard God will find a way to pay me back. Then, why didn’t He just let me keep it to begin with? Ha! Got you there.

Maybe, just maybe, this rawness will spice my creativity, help me tell good stories, help you relate to me. Oh, I see. I don’t get to know what the value is until later, in retrospect. Remember what? I can’t hear you. Oh, the Language of Letting Go.

That’s what I’m talking, and that’s what I’m talking about. We don’t let go in an instant, a moment. We don’t let go without going through all our emotions. It can be an awkward and ugly process.

But it gets us where we need to go. This time, you get to see me go through it in real time. Not five years later, when it’s all cleaned up and tidy — packed away in the basement in a box.

Hey! I see that light…or is it a firefly? Guess it doesn’t matter. Light is light.

Love you all. Thanks for the suport, prayers and kind thoughts. You hold me up. Seriously. Every positive and loving thought is like someone taking my hand, energizing me, and helping me walk my path.

I’m grateful. I’m just not sure what for yet.

Plod. Plod. Plod. Sometimes that’s what we’ve got to do. It’s not forever. It’s just for right now.

Best,
Melody

I’m back blogging again after not being allowed to talk about what was going on in my life while the police put together the case against the “alleged embezzler.”

It sounds strange to refer to someone I knew as “the alleged embezzler.”Those are cold words.

At first I thought the hardest part was the shock of discovering that someone I cared about had allegedly embezzled almost half a million dollars from me — a big hit for a small business. I kept spinng through the cycles of grief, over and over.

Then as a friend and I prepared the documents for the bank and I had to look at all the allegedly forged checks: Seventeen hundred, nineteen hundred, seven hundred – and that was only one afternoon’s worth of alleged forgery and fraud, the crying started again and this time it wouldn’t stop.

A friend said it best when I interviewed her for The Grief Club.She worked with people with AIDS . When she showed me pictures of friends who had passed, I asked if she ever got used to it — the loss.

“There’s a room in my heart,” she explained.“In that room is the pain from everyone I’ve lost. Now when someone dies, I don’t just feel the pain from losing that person. I go into that room and feel the pain from losing all the others, too.”

What she was saying was that as time passed it didn’t hurt less; it hurt more.

For almost five months, I lived in that room she talked about.I cried when I woke up, in the afternoon, and at night. I wasn’t sure what hurt most, the betrayal or losing the money. It depends on when you ask me. Both losses are huge. Both hurt.

After finishing the paperwork, I thought for sure the hardest part was over but instead I kept crying. Finally I decided to take my own advice, and did the 40-day Make Miracles activity again.I didn’t notice when or how it happened.But it’s like the hand of God reached in and turned my heart right-side up. I could see the positives and possibilities in Life again.

Then on day 39 or 40, when my friend and I were body-boarding in the ocean and I caught a big wave, I smiled. A big smile that came all the way from my heart. Right before my back surgery, body boarding or surfing was my next dream. I thought the surgery sent that dream packing forever — until day 39. My friend noticed it first.

I was happy again.

Today, the alleged embezzler’s name crossed my mind.

“God bless her,” I said.Then I immediately turned on myself.Why am I doing that?I’m the one who could use some blessings now.Bank of America might value their customers, but they don’t value their customer’s claims, at least not when the allegedly forged checks amount to almost half a million dollars.Even when the Bank of America employee assured me that B of A would make every single forged checked good so I wouldn’t have to take the financial loss, I knew the bank would find a loophole, a tech, and some way out — which they did.

It looks like I’ll have to start blessing the bank, too.

Many years ago, when I first started recovery, people taught me not to harbor resentments against people, places, or institutions. When I asked how to let go of these resentments, people told me to ask God to bless anyone I resented until the resentment disappeared. It might take months or years, but that simple activity always worked.Now, when the alleged embezzler’s name or the words “Bank of America” come to mind, instead of focusing on the negative emotions I feel, I ask God to please the person or institution.

The day will come when the alleged embezzler’s name or Bank of America will pass through my mind and I won’t feel the negativity. It will be replaced by true peace.

The hardest part of having so much money embezzled has just begun.It will be over when my pain and resentments have turned into forgiveness.

I don’t have to hire the alleged embezzler ever again. I don’t have to let her legally off the hook (I couldn’t anyway as it’s a criminal case now).I don’t have to speak to her again.But the pain from eight years of alleged lies and betrayal, of her looking at me and saying how much I mean to her (yeah, half a million dollar’s worth), the resentments and hurt all need to be gone.

There’s an old song about not letting the circle be broken. The only thing that can break it is a heart closed to love. Until the circle becomes mended, my work isn’t done.The other parts of this experience were easy compared to this.

“She won,” I told my friend.

“What are you talking about?” he said.“She’s charged with ten felony counts of swindling.You didn’t lose.”

I shook my head.“I wave the white flag.This was like a rape. Just like rapes aren’t about sex — they’re about anger — this wasn’t just about the money.It was about the power.And yes, she won.It knocked me down, took away my belief in myself and Life, and I’m not up off the ground yet.”

My friend turned on his computer and found a segment from Rocky Six. Rocky One, Two and Three helped me start my writing career decades ago.I didn’t know a Rocky Four or Five existed, much less Six. My friend fumbled until finding the right quote.Then he cranked up the volume to make sure I heard.

I’m just paraphrasing, and probably not doing the scene justice.But in it, Sylvester Stallone –as Rocky — lectured his son.He said it wasn’t about how hard he got hit. It was about how hard he could get hit and still get back up again, and stop blaming others.

I’m grateful for friends who care and for Sylvester Stallone. I’m grateful for smiles that come from deep inside. I’m grateful because I’m not alone.

I’ll see you soon here in the mystery where Life can be black, but it’s still a gift.

It’s good to be back.

Melody Beattie

Last night, I ordered my office supplies online (late at night) from the store where I always order them:  Office Depot (www.OfficeDepot.com).  Let me preface this story by saying Office Depot isn’t an advertiser, nor am I one of their advertising affiliates.  I receive absolutely nothing from what I say about them:  good or bad. 

I like doing business with them because I love ordering office supplies, and I enjoy ordering them from Office Depot online. The supplies arrive within a day or so and get this — usually in the catalogue I order from, there’s a “free gift” for ordering online. 

I’m not someone who takes anything I can get if it’s for free.  I only take that which I want, like and need.  I also know there’s no such thing as a free lunch (an old therapy slogan meaning for every behavior there’s a consequence). 

Because of my travels, because my mailbox in Malibu sits on the street open to any passers-by hands, and because one of my concerns is identity theft, I don’t have mail come to my address.  The problem with this is, I don’t receive the catalogues that have the “free prize” and the prize changes every month.  Plus, to receive the free bonus gift,  I need the promotional code.  I have to enter it when I  make my order.

Office Depot won’t tell you over the phone or even on their site what the prize is, which makes it a “surprise” and that makes it even better.  But not if I can’t get it, which I haven’t been able to since I stopped mail delivery to this address to stop identify theft. 

An aside  guys and gals, I really thought I had myself and my assets locked up tightly.  I thought I was secure and my assets safe.  My sense of security? Totally an illusion.  What makes this scary is I had taken deliberate steps to protect myself from exactly what happened.

Back to the blog at hand.  I placed my order, but there wasn’t any way to find out what the surprise is, much less enter the promotional code for it.  I’m SOL (so out of luck) as some might say.  There’s a prize, but not one coming for me.

Today, I went online to Office Depot and initiated an online “chat.”  I wanted to clarify another detail about my last night’s online order. But those details aren’t important.  Once the Office Depot customer service representative and I resolved that issue, she asked the following question (which became the merchant’s proverbial kiss of death):  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” the rep asked.

“Not unless you can help me get the prize I should have received with last night’s order.  And given the annual amount of office supplies I purchase from Office Depot, I’d very much like to get it and I deserve it.” (I didn’t say I wanted to know what it was before I could say if I wanted it; it was a general statement that given my history with other merchants, I didn’t plan on this line of conversation going much further.)

My buddy Chip, sitting next to me working on his computer, began heckling me, something about  not in a million years would I get my prize and stop annoying the person online.

A few minutes later, the customer service rep typed something else to me, about needing to enter the promotional code at the time of ordering, to which I replied I couldn’t enter it, because I didn’t have it and didn’t even know what this month’s free prize is.

Chip laughed louder, and again suggested I stop annoying the woman (or man) helping me online.

I ignored him, my usual response to  anyone or thing that gets between me and the object of my obsession.

Moments later, the woman came back on the online chat.  She gave me my choice of three separate prizes.  The third one she described?  Exactly what I wanted.  I had tried to purchase it the night before, but they didn’t have it.

Excited, surprised, happy?  Understatements for the way that interaction this morning made me feel when the rep confirmed that the prize I wanted would soon be mine. 

No, I don’t have the prize in my hands yet.  But according to Office Depot’s customer service representative,  soon I’ll  hold the spoils of victory in my hands.

Now, that’s customer service.  On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, Office Depot’s online score for excellent customer services gets rated ten by me.  Thank you for showing me the true customer service isn’t gone, Office Depot.

After everything else going on, I’ll take the gift with gratitude bordering on elation.

Later,

Melody Beattie

PS:  Chip, I told you so — and that makes twice.

PPS:  Whether we’re talking about a relationship with a business, friend, relative, pet or lover, it’s not wise to tell them only what they do wrong, or what they do that displeases us.  When someone does something right, something nice — especially when the person goes out of his or her way to do something special for us — it’s important to take time to notice it and say how much it means to us. In the case of a blog that’s mentioning when businesses don’t act up to code, it’s just as or more important to mention businesses that go out of their way to provide superior customer service.  People respond best to criticism if they know their best efforts will  be rewarded with praise.

Again, thanks and many kudos to you, www.OfficeDepot.com.

I strive to avoid dualities – good and bad, right and wrong — those judgments many of us make.  Most of the time even emotions fall into one category.  We don’t feel good or bad.  Joy and pain are the same thing.

Before I get into the heart of this blog, it’s important to give praise where it belongs.  You may recall my diatribes about the new washer that came with a dryer that didn’t work.  I became frustrated with General Electric, the manufacturer who wouldn’t honor their warranty and Best Buy – the retail store where I purchased it along with extended service agreements.

Guess who won?  Guess who stood up and spoke up when everyone wanted me to sit down. I did.  I’m holding in my hands the Best Buy confirmation number that will get me another new dryer (for free) to replace the other one. In the end, Best Buy came through like champs (after a few blogs and many phone calls). Best Buy stepped up to the plate.  General Electric didn’t. General Electric failed me.  Best Buy decided that replacing the defective dryer – whether it was GE’s fault or theirs, was the way they want to treat their customers. 

Best Buy did the right thing.

There’s that word “right” again.  Maybe everything isn’t non-dualistic after all.

The older I get, the less I know – that much I know.  Teenagers growing up don’t monopolize the process of learning how much we don’t know.

But in that lovely little way that Life has, right before I hit a home run with Best Buy, I got stabbed.  In the back.   Right in the heart. 

A friend (I thought) and someone who worked with me – not just for a couple years but going on a decade – gently but with malice of forethought inserted the knife into my heart.  I understand my melodrama sounds disgusting.  But at this moment it hurts so much that I can hardly type.

The person embezzled (allegedly and according to that person’s own words) over $63,000.00 from me while calling me a beloved friend.

I used to trust this person.  Not enough to allow ability to sign checks.  Ever.  Under any circumstances.  Learned that a long time ago.  I’ve got to give it to this person.  He or she devised an extraordinarily clever plan to get through the tight wall surrounding my money.  They found one small crack, got a finger in it, and then busted it open. Take the checks.  Run them through a small account, not even a business account – which is where all my receivables are supposed to go (my business account).  Then convince the bank that it’s okay to change the address, city, and state on that checking account – a small account with a specific purpose – to pay exterior condo bills at the condo where I’m the unofficial manager.

What’s worse, the other people who live there weren’t assessed, as they should be, for their share of exterior expenses.  The ex-friend gave the financial burden of all those to me, too.

Then they laundered the checks by putting them through a bank account in another state.  I’m waiting for my documents, but already I know the amount far exceeds the amount reported to me in the confession.  It’s like when an addict (active) tells the truth about how much he or she uses:  multiply it by at least three, and you may be somewhat close to the truth.

I’ve known something’s been wrong between us for a while.  I kept asking, digging, looking.  Couldn’t find it.  You want to know what really ticks me off?  I can’t even order and get my business checks – and I’m me – from the bank (Bank of America, in case you want to know), without going through a lie detector test, having dna run, then going to the bank and showing fourteen forms of id.   I may be exaggerating a little – but they will not let me change the address (even though it’s me) – nor will they mail them to me anywhere except to a mailbox sitting way out on the street.

Here I worried about identity theft by a stranger and the enemy stood right next to me performing more than identity theft.  Instead, while I’m on the phone talking to Bank of America’s fraud department, the bank simultaneously approves one more forged check.

I’ve done everything I should and can.  I doubt if the bank will give any money back.  They’ve already told me they only go back three months, and they highly doubt they’ll even do that.

Oh, by the way, I also contacted the bank that’s cashing the extremely high pile of forged checks.  They refused to stop cashing them, even though the person signing my name could in no way identify themselves as me.

So, now the next business I’m taking on in my How to Stand Up For Yourself When Everyone Wants You to Sit Down and Be Quiet?  A bank I used to admire – Bank of America. I should be reimbursed for every forged check they honored.  They allowed someone (not me) to call in from another state and change the address not only on the checks but where they send them and my statements.

The other time someone embezzled from me, the authorities told me:  don’t let people sign checks.  I didn’t.  Have a clear purpose and that purpose alone for each account, so any other use of it stands out.  I did.  I did everything the authorities told me.  However, now people are denying telling that to me.  “It wasn’t my fault,” is what I hear. Again.  It’s that old familiar song:  passing the buck.  The sad part is, these are mostly medical reimbursement checks for my chronic illness that have been stolen.

My accountant will have to re-file my taxes for however many years this has taken place (that will cost a pretty penny).  I no longer like or trust Bank of America and I’ve stood up for them for years.  They didn’t stand up for me.  They’ve been great as long as I didn’t need them to step up to the plate.

This person currently holds all my business records hostage.  I had to drop the screenplay writing in favor of dealing with this. Get this. Because the bank laundering the money, a Minnesota bank and later on, I will release their name, won’t stop cashing these checks, even though they’ve been informed they’re stolen and forged. But when these checks begin to bounce, guess whose credit record will be affected?  That’s when I’ll say their name. Over and over again.

Overwhelmed.  Angry.  But most of all hurt.  That’s how I feel.  Big deal.  That’s money I’ve worked hard to save.  I kept wondering, why aren’t my savings growing. 

As soon as I pick this sharp blade out of my heart, I’ll let you know. 

Life isn’t either or – we get the good with the bad.  Now listen up.  I want you to remember this, because I’m going to need you to remind me.  According to an article in the New York Times, 88 percent of the people who get close to us will eventually steal from or betray us.  At least in ancient times (according to the Bible) the statistics read one out of twelve.

People’s values have changed for the worse.

This is what I want you to remember even more:  the more someone claims to be your true friend, likely the more they aren’t.  Actions speak louder than words.  The people who genuinely care don’t have to keep talking about it. Like this person said after saying they were sorry and I said no, you’re only sorry you’re caught, and then followed it with “but what hurt the most was thinking you truly were my friend and then that person said, “I am” and I said, “No you’re not because friends don’t treat you like that.”

When we think something’s wrong, when a relationship turns (friendship, business, or otherwise), don’t walk.  Run. 

That includes banks who claim to be your partner and friend in building a life.  If I went out and stole $10.00 from someone tonight, well first of all I don’t want to but secondly, if I did – I would get caught and at least spend one night in the slammer.

This is living in the mystery.  I can’t figure out why they call “white crime” white.                                        

Sure feels black to me.

Tomorrow (already today for some of you) – Thursday, March 31, Year of our Lord 2011, is officially “C Day with GE and BB.”  Before you turn away, stay with me a while longer.  Some  guarantees don’t mean much.  I promise this blog takes a twist and has a different theme than the last. I’m done whining for now.

For readers unsure of what I’m writing about, GE stands for “General Electric,” BB means Best Buy.  C Day will be the day I see what’s going to happen next. This is the deal, although it’s not a good one. A new GE dryer I bought from Best Buy seven months ago worked  one and one-half times. Then it went pouf and hasn’t worked since. 

Between the two businesses, I’ve now had more service calls than months I’ve had the dryer.  One thing I haven’t had is dry clothes – at least not dried in that dryer. Because the dryer doesn’t work.

By now almost all parts have been replaced.  We may be replacing one the second time around but I cannot say for sure.  For the record, I have an extended warranty besides the dryer being under the original factory guarantee. 

But will the dryer work come sunset tomorrow?  Will the dryer, as I requested, be replaced by a brand new one? If so, will that new one work or will I go through this ordeal all over again?  Will C Day be F Day – the day the dryer finally gets fixed? Or will it be one more day when I’m told, “Just one more part, and we should have this baby working in no time, Ma’am.”

I could have dried all my laundry faster by pointing my hair dryer at my wet laundry. There’s no place to hang clothes to dry where I live. 

Anyone up for predictions?  Let me know. I predict that “C Day” will be “L Day” – Lemon Day. It will be one more service call that ends in the dryer not getting fixed, and me not receiving another dryer from General Electric, a dryer that works.  Maybe it will be  “E Day” – Excuse Day, the day I hear another BS reason for the new dryer not working.  It might be PTB Day (Pass the Buck Day), the day GE blames someone else because the dryer they manufactured, sold to Best Buy, and then Best Buy sold to me doesn’t work.

Or it may be HDDSTIA  Day, the day I act on the recommendation from the supervisor at GE who suggested I buy another new dryer from them and  I’d get a discount from GE if I did. HDDSTIA stands for how dumb does she think I am.

I’m not holding my breath.  I’m getting better at living in the present moment.  Tomorrow isn’t here yet.  It never comes.  It’s always today.  I am curious though, a curiosity tempered with low expectations about results.

Before I go any further, it’s time to clarify things.  See, everything is relative and now’s the time to put the non-working dryer issue in perspective.  With all the hurting people in Japan, all the grieving people in our own country, our state, city, block and maybe our home, this problem goes in the category of “mildly annoying incidents that happen or haven’t yet been solved.”

I feel ripped off, had, lied to, blown off and dismissed.  So what?  In the scheme of things, that’s not much.  Doesn’t compare to losing my son.  Doesn’t compare to the couple I recently heard about where the husband, instead of receiving his promised retirement plan, got hosed when he retired after thirty devoted years.  His wife then became ill.  After both of them working hard all their lives, they lost their home, she lost her health, and they left town with six hundred bucks.  It was cold that evening, even for California in the desert.  The woman had sold most of her belongings to raise money for food and necessities.  She wore nylon stockings under shorts to keep her legs warm. She didn’t have a jacket to put on her arms.

Now that’s a problem. My heart goes out to them. I wish I’d known before the situation passed the point of no return.  I could have blogged about them instead of myself and the dryer that doesn’t work.

It’s not just the recession, although that’s made things worse.  Bad things happen to people, happen all the time – things people don’t deserve.  Most of the time it’s not that we don’t see it coming.  We can feel it coming at us at one hundred miles an hour, but don’t know what to do.  Or like a deer, we’re frozen in the headlights.  Paralyzed, can’t move.

Judging other people who get slammed with serious problems can be easy to do.  It can give us a false sense of security and immunity about life.  If the other people did something wrong and that’s why the bad thing happened to them, then we know how to keep ourselves safe.  We won’t do the bad thing they did.  But that’s not how it works. If it can happen to him, her or them, it can happen to us. We aren’t immune.

Radical faith is when we can know this – know how vulnerable we are – and still walk around, in the moment, feeling at peace and trusting Life and our Higher Power.

I don’t want to hear about being tested, or about what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.  When we’re in crushing emotional pain, some of us would prefer it if Life killed us instead of giving us more strength. Listen carefully. That’s not permission for anyone to hurt themselves or anyone else.  All I’m doing is talking about the things we think and how we can feel.

In the overall scheme of things my dryer problem becomes a mere irritation, less than a flat tire when I’m covered by Triple A.  I’m not discounting the issue.  I will, with Life’s help, eventually resolve it.  But it’s not killing me.  I’m not doubled over with pain.

Many people are being hurt, harmed, killed or crumpled up with pain.  May blessings and good things pour down in abundance on each of you.  May tomorrow be the best day – tomorrow March 31, 2011 – you’ve ever had.  May gifts come from nowhere.  May you feel cared for and loved, your heart be at peace, and your clothes dry and warm.

I’ll let you know what happens on C Day with GE and BB.  Meanwhile, maybe we could all devote C Day to a world-wide meditation day, focusing on blessings, getting needs met, abundance, healing, miracles, and relief from pain for the masses of hurting people and sentient beings in our world.

My best,

Melody Beattie

Stayed tuned – tuned in with each other for good things and love for our neighbor, wherever he or she lives.  We can’t change other people but maybe for one day if we join together in unison we can change the world.  That would be even better than warm, dry clothes.  C Day could be, if we wanted it to be, Care About Our Neighbor Day and that would be good.