I walked out of the gym one morning into a cold, dreary New Jersey rain.
After my challenging workout, I gingerly lowered myself into the driver’s seat. Taking stock, I felt cold, damp, and hungry. My butt muscles hurt and I didn’t think my packed lunch of edamame, turkey, and pineapple was sufficient to fuel my entire work day.
A warm cup of turkey chili from Panera seemed like a nice addition to my little lunch.
I pulled over, opened the Panera app, ordered my chili. I appreciated the convenience as it would be ready for me when I arrived. I chose the option to pick it up myself in the cafe. Of course. I’m a considerate human. I don’t need a server to have to run through the rain while I stay dry in my comfy car.
Arriving, I figured I’d run in real fast and grab that chili.
With only my umbrella and keys, I left my purse behind as I made a beeline for the pick up shelf. As I spotted my little brown bag sitting all alone, I heard my name called.
Turns out, the ice tea was suggestive selling. “Kathy, take me home. I’m delicious.”
Yum. A large cup of ice, tea sweetened with stevia, and a hint of caffeine enticed me to grab a cup. Just what the doctor ordered. As I waited behind a woman filling her cup with ice, I realized I had no purse or phone to pay for my drink. Uh oh.
I was in a quandary.
My head was on swivel between that alluring ice tea machine and my car parked far, far away in the cold drizzle. I might have looked lost, but there was no one around to notice me except for the woman slowly topping off her soda.
Undisturbed, I had the freedom to swivel my thoughts back and forth as I debated the choices before me.
I want an ice tea. I don’t have money. My desire is in front of me. My purse is far away. I’m dry and kinda warm. I don’t wanna be cold and damp again (and again and again). The cup is in reach and I could just take one without paying for it.
Which, in case you haven’t caught on, would be stealing.
That was interesting. Here I was, an adult woman with a purse full of money, contemplating how to get my iced tea without the discomfort of two extra trips in the cold drizzle. My body joined the conversation and suggested I limit extra travel time given how sore my butt and legs were in the moment.
Which was interesting ‘cause my feet would’t move. There was no way I was stealing from Panera.
I really wanted that ice tea and I really wanted to stay dry. It seemed a long time that this debate went on, but I think that’s just proof that I was a bit foggy and required caffeine in the moment.
When the woman moved away from the drink machine, it hit me. Eureka!
I had ordered my chili online. I could take the drink, go to my car (in one trip), and order a drink. I’d be warm and cozy. Panera and I would be square. And my angel would’ve earned her halo. That’s a win, win, win.
I left Panera feeling proud, soon to be satiated, and righteously moral.
Before heading to my office, I opened that app and paid for my small drink. I sweetened my ice tea, blasted the heat, and took a sip. Sweet success. I didn’t give it another thought until an hour later when I reached for my drink.
I looked at my big cup in confusion. How did my small ice tea get so large?
Then it dawned on me. I grabbed a large to go cup, as usual. So here I was drinking a large ice tea after paying for a small drink.
So, I guess I stole from Panera after all. 1 point to that tricky devil.
Guess where I headed the next day? I figured I could explain to the manager that I stole the difference between a small and large ice tea. Maybe together we could do the math and I’d hand over my dollar and change. But I decided to just pull up the app and order a large drink. Then I sauntered into Panera (with my purse) and grabbed my tiny cup of ice tea.
My angel was happy with that decision. My devil just called me a wimp.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
I remember walking into Westminster Cathedral in London, looking up, and being struck still by the vast beauty and scale of the architecture. People milled around me, some even bumping into me, yet my face remained turned heavenward. I could not move. Eventually I noticed my body returning to its normal sense of size, as if I had taken a journey within that vastness without realizing it.
I’ve always had a distant relationship with horses.
I once rode the pony a friend cared for at a local barn when I was a pre-teen. I’ve done a few trail rides, including what felt like a few death-defying adventures in the Colorado Rockies. I even calmly steered my horse back onto the trail after she reared and raced down a small forest hill. It was a natural instinct. After all, I’ve watched enough television to witness experienced equestrians deftly managing rearing horses.
I have been reading a series of novels set in the late nineteenth century that portray the social structures women were expected to live within. Hardships were often hidden behind social niceties, beautiful homes, fashionable clothing, and the polite manner considered fitting for a lady of society. A woman’s ability to enjoy simple pleasures such as reading freely, choosing her friendships, or expressing her opinions was often restricted by her husband.
ia Sophia has arrived. This “Way of Wisdom” offers an invitation to step upon a Living Spiral Path and discover a new understanding of what it means to embody the Mystical Feminine.
For the past fifteen years I have lived and taught within the Mystical Feminine. I have sat within many circles and immersions with women as we explored how to practically and powerfully engage Feminine wisdom in everyday life.
Driving into Soul Sanctuary last weekend, I noticed the trees were engaged in a wild dance.
I should have paid closer attention as I got out of the car, because the wind nearly took me with it. Walking to the door, I had to lean in and brace myself for a moment just to stay upright. The cold whipped through my clothes and found every uncovered space, sharing its bone-numbing chill.
We recently had a big snow in my neck of the woods.
Everyone was hunkered down. The fridge was full, chicken soup was bubbling on the stove, and my book pile sat patiently on the coffee table. As the snow covered the neighborhood and the plows dumped fresh mounds over our carefully shoveled walk, we took turns peeking outside.
As a kid, snowstorms were pure joy.
