The good news about the rain and watching “nothing” happen and all plans blown away

Yesterday and the day before, it rained so hard the drops looked like streaks of light, with a flurry of churning foam swirling where it hit hard pavement.

A puddle formed so huge next to my car, I had to climb into the driver’s seat from the passenger side. At night, the inch of open window letting in fresh air to the bedroom was blasting a cool breeze the room like a fan.

Then in the morning, when everything seemed calm, dark and quiet, with what appeared to be a soft steady rain….

….moments before First Friday call was cued, ready to press “go” for all the inquirers coming to do The Work for 90 minutes together on our open online inquiry session….

….thunk.

You could literally hear a thunk coming from somewhere in the atmosphere, and all the lights went out.

Power outage.

It was dawn-ish dark. An autumn morning, the day before the time change in the US, with light barely in the sky at 7:30 am.

I lit candles and pondered what to do, knowing people were dialing in to do The Work in moments.

I could quick put on clothes, take my lap top, and try to find public internet as close by as possible? I’ve done this before. I’ve held teleclasses in hotel parking lots, hospital lobbies, my car, or outside the Starbucks. The trouble with my options was that it was raining, and rush hour. So I’d need to bundle up and find someplace covered, and reasonably quiet.

I still would likely be late to my own call, and everyone would have hung up by the time I connected. IF I even got connected.

So if it was a national emergency, believe me….I would have been driving somewhere in my slippers trying to find a connection so we could all do The Work together.

But it was not an emergency.

What a funny day, of unexpected plans and changes.

After awhile, I packed up my gym bag with a change of clothes and towel so I could go shower there, and I stopped at the Starbucks for a coffee which was full of happy people talking, waiting, standing in line (and bright lights)! At the gym they had lights, but no working internet there, either.

I answered a few emails using my phone, especially all the emails where someone wrote “am I doing something wrong?” about the call!

Then, reading at the library that the electricity probably wouldn’t be restored in my area for at least a few hours, I began to drive north to meet my son who had texted me the night before, in the middle of the stormiest part of the evening when the wind had been churned up.

He had said he was coming for a meeting to the city north of me called Everett. “I’ll let you know tomorrow where we can meet for lunch, mom!”

I hadn’t heard from him yet on this strangely quiet morning, which was now almost afternoon. I sent out a text letting him know we had no power, so I’m going ahead and hitting the road to the north and moseying up towards the city he was in.

No response.

I remembered as I drove, this was an area where a specialty dance store lives. I used to drive all the way out here to buy my daughter special tap shoes or leotards. Why not stop and see if they have some comfy dance pants or sweats I’ve been needing for awhile?

Success.

But still no text from my son.

I wound up driving to the bus station where my daughter would be arriving in another 90 minutes, to wait. I got myself a cup of tea and sat in my car, staring out the window. And thinking about what an odd day it was of non-doing or random floaty-type doing because I’m waiting and I have the time. Which is rare.

My son’s phone, it turned out, had died….(there seems to be a theme). He had no charger so he had driven all the way to our house only to find a dark cottage without electricity, so he went to the same Starbucks I had been to earlier, borrowing my charger–at which point he was able to text me.

My daughter arrived on the bus, jumped in my car, and we drove home. Still no electrical power. No hot water. No heat. No lights. No battery charging.

We all went to a movie together for the 4 o’clock matinee. That never happens.

I joked a few times that I would need to do The Work on disappointing the First Friday participants and being a flake, or not getting much done for a Friday when I always work on my business.

But it does seem like things just moved as they did and I followed along. There were moments of thinking, and noticing the idea it was “sad” to not accomplish anything today.

I also noticed “anxiousness” when remembering Sunday (that’s tomorrow!) I’m starting a free, open facebook live 7 day course on eating peace and believing I should be preparing more for it. By the way, no opt-in required, all you need to do is request membership in the private eating peace facebook group and all the daily live videos will happen there.

Also in my wanderings and waitings of the day away from home, “grief” came through from the beautiful and very bittersweet visit I was still digesting after visiting my dear friend Carl’s gravesite. I was there just 2 days ago on Dia De Los Muertos, November 1st.

And then, surprisingly at the end of that day, I watched the computer open, the lights on, and tap tapping of fingers sharing with you my day, in all its unexpected and fascinating strangeness.

So, we’ll have a new inquiry jam session: First Monday, November 5th 5:30-7:00 pm Pacific Time. A day and time that’s completely different, I know. Next month in December it will be First Friday again at 7:45 am PT.

This is a time to dial in for open inquiry doing The Work from start to finish. Simply connect here a few minutes before we start. No experience or prep necessary, just come and question a stressful thought or two, listen, share if you want. A time for undoing thinking, and being.

Who would I be without my thoughts about how a day is supposed to go? Or what should not happen? Or what should?

Wow. Jeez. I might notice I’ve been wanting to go even slower. I’ve been meditating just a bit longer when I do meditate. I’ve been interested in turning to quiet, simple, non-working space. Even fewer plans than ever.

Noticing the friendliness of this past day, reality, and how very supportive it is. Even without lights.

Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ~ Langston Hughes

Much love,
Grace
P.S. I received quite a few requests for the recording of the eating peace webinar I recently offered for the first time. If you want to address any compulsion, not just eating, maybe it will help (I’d love your feedback). I was so plagued by compulsion, in many ways more than eating, it means so much to share in community the healing around compulsive behavior of any kind. You can watch it here.