Link to my new Peace Talk podcast right HERE.
I’d love your review in Itunes (check 3 minute video on my website to see how to submit a review if you’ve never done it before, by clickingHERE).
Meanwhile….long long ago (yesterday afternoon)….
….I forgot all about podcasts, emails, anything-computer.
There was a knock on the door.
I was sitting in my yoga pants and slippers. Dishes were on the counter. Laundry was half way finished so the laundry basket was in the middle of the kitchen floor full of dirty clothes. The carpet had pine needles all over it. The kitchen table had piles of sheet music, school forms, unopened mail and overdue library books. My headphones from skype sessions were lying piled on top of a dish cloth. Through an open door, the bed was unmade and a package of recently opened toilet paper rolls was leaning on a chair.
The two guys are here to do an energy audit of our little cottage, analyzing the “holes” in the house and why there may be so much heat being used for such a tiny little place.
They would need to go into every room.
EMERGENCY! I NEED TO CLEAN UP!
This is embarrassing!
Smile anyway. Welcome official-looking men! No problem, come right in!
(Can I stand in front of the laundry basket and they might not see it? Maybe they won’t notice that I look like I’m wearing what I slept in last night. Since I am.)
They are thinking I don’t care about my house. They are wondering why would someone like ME of all people request an energy analysis of my home?
I obviously have no pride.
One of the men notes there is a standing electric radiator heater in the garage.
“Its perfectly fine you have this kind of heater, all the low income housing uses these kinds of heaters because they are safer.”
He thinks I’m low income housing. I’ve chosen this tiny house to live in. It’s messy and trashy.
He shouldn’t think I’m poor!!!!!
I could feel the heat rising in my torso. I wanted a do-over. Not be surprised by their knock on the door. Firm, prepared, powerful, in control.
So they wouldn’t assume I’m in poverty.
Who would I be without the thought that they shouldn’t think I’m poor? Who would I be without the belief that I AM poor?
Without the thought that being in this cute little cottage means I don’t have much money, and not having much money means being “poor” and being poor means I must not be trying or caring, and not trying or caring is something to be ashamed of?
Who would I be without this crazy story swarming in all in a split second?
Laughing at the insanity of the mind.
Who would I be without fearing judgment, in that moment?
I’d be having a blast talking with these two interesting characters who have arrived with lots of equipment, questions, pencils and graph paper to have a look at a structure called “my house” (which really isn’t).
How fun that they’re here! How curious, fascinating, even helpful!
I turn the story around: these men with calculators and ladders arriving, and their comments, do NOT mean I am poor. Being messy does not mean I am poor. Wearing pj’s doesn’t mean I’m poor. I am not poor. I don’t even know what “poor” is exactly, or what’s wrong with it.
I am abundant, wealthy, proud, generous, unafraid, willing, welcoming, as I am.
“The power for creating a better future is contained in the present moment: You create a good future by creating a good present…..Discontent, blaming, complaining, self-pity cannot serve as a foundation for a good future, no matter how much effort you make.” ~ Eckhart Tolle
I am nothing, not poor, not rich, not anything static or defined.
Now that’s a bit lighter.
Who would you be without the belief that your home, your bank account, the number in it, your job or unemployment, means “you’re x”?