There’s No Place Like Home

Day 21: Home 2 by Hilton

This excursion is neither business nor pleasure. It’s in the gray area in between.

As a brand new extended-stay, pet friendly hotel, it’s adequate.  I enjoy the affable staff and free yogurt in the morning, but I assure you this sojourn was not on my agenda — particularly this 2.0 adventure. But the plumbing gods have spoken, and I am compelled to listen. Sometimes, that’s just how the Universe rolls, as my college-attending son, Ian, says. He’s very Zen that way. So, perhaps, that’s the lesson. We control nothing.

However, this scene is dramatic, because it’s the second plumbing expulsion I have endured since Dec. 31, 2017. Yes, unbelievable. I have insurance, but as it often turns out, that feels more like a curse than a blessing in the reality of it.  Wrangling a second water damage claim in the space of ninety days tends has made my adjuster quite testy.

Indeed, it’s complicated.  This time, my neighbor, with whom I share a wall in my deteriorating “Grey Gardens” town home community, recently discovered several slab leaks that summarily seeped downhill into my dining room and kitchen. I made the grim discovery when I hopped off the last step of my staircase into my dining room one morning about three weeks ago, and . . . it splashed. This was a red flag.

As the saga unfolded, my neighbors’ plumber dug a massive trench under their slab — only to discover they went in the wrong direction.  Then, absolute mayhem ensued when the befuddled plumber used the wrong material for the pressure-line repair and had to redo all the work to pass city inspection. It has been like a bad dream — one thing after another. They repaired one leak, and another pipe broke. They fixed that. Then, another one went. Even the monster jet-engine-style drying fans in my moist ground-floor rooms could not keep up.  Once again, I am in the thick of replacing brand new wood floors, boxing up my belongings, rebuilding kitchen cabinets and living on takeout. Disconnected appliances and the stench of raw mildew send me, Izzy and Patches to our modest hotel each eve on a wave of bittersweet gratitude.

But the most disconcerting part is the suspended animation — navigating an untethered existence between hotel and home, saturation and reconstruction, a rock and a hard place — the Scylla and Charybdis. It’s that disorienting purgatory that’s kind of like camping all the time in your regular life — except without the natural beauty and peace. This mode makes you a special kind of crazy. You must deliberately think about every basic task and issue — like what day is it? Or, where am I? You may remember you need those black pumps for a grownup client meeting, and all you have at the hotel is a pair of magenta Sketchers.

I’m herding contractors and my animals simultaneously — as I engage in a daily tango with my aloof, out-of-town adjuster. I’m trying to configure meal options that fit a mini frig and microwave oven — and also save all my receipts.  I’m asking myself deep, probing questions like, “Is there really any good place for the litter box in a hotel room?” And, “Lord, how did I forget my laptop charger?!”

Though there is a simplicity about the hotel life, my unrelenting obsession with logistics  eclipses it. How will I get all this crap fixed and still make a living? This is a time I miss a companion or partner — someone to take Izzy’s leash,  carry the bag of dirty laundry or just grab my hand and say, “Elaine, it’s going to be OK.”

Planning anything is a trick, too — enough time for social medianot having any idea how long I will be existing somewhere between the pit of my fears and summit of my knowledge.  Wait . . . isn’t that the Twilight Zone? But here’s the real epiphany – ironic for the Easter season, I know. I think this might be more than an annoying series of pipe repairs. It has to be.

Both plumbing leaks have been stealth offenders — obscured by walls and foundations. They required deep excavation to shine a light on the hidden damage. That’s what’s needed for effective repair and lasting healing. Like these projects, I am a work in progress — revealing more hidden damage with each passing day, repairing it and continuously evolving.

Clearly, I deceived myself when I purchased this place several years ago. There was so much to do to make it even remotely livable. That should have been a major warning sign, but it’s probably what hooked me. Fixing things can give us a superficial, yet fleeting, sense of worth and purpose — whether it’s about plumbing, people or projects.  Now, if I consider an opportunity or relationship and think, “Ugh, I can make this work,” I know to walk away — quickly. At least, I’m getting better at that. More and more, I am valuing myself enough to make better decisions — and set healthier boundaries.

I have learned from my study of the Law of Attraction and quantum truths that everything is energy and vibration. We manifest the realities that are in sync with our vibrations. I think it’s time for a radical vibe check, dahlink. Time to level up!

So, Dorothy, what have you learned?

  1. True stability is an inside job that starts with true self-worth
  2. Sometimes, a disaster is a potent teacher — it’s all about maintaining healthy boundaries
  3. Constantly attracting and fighting frustrating battles is exhausting and a no-win
  4. “No one can deny you anything. Only you deny it through your vibrational contradiction,” Abraham Hicks
  5.  It doesn’t have to be this hard — to be me

And of course, breathe.

Present Imperfect: 5 Intentions for 2018

Instead of resolutions, I am focusing on intentions this year. I like this nuance, because it conveys a sense of positive expectation and possibility, as opposed “revision”― or eliminating unsavory behavior, condition or circumstance. In fact, we have little control over conditions or circumstances ― such as the stealth leak I discovered in the wall of my home on Dec. 28, 2017. What I do have control over is how I think about this event and how I choose to respond to its unfolding impact.

Intention.

I learned about the power of intention from the late, remarkable Wayne Dyer. The concept has served as a strong springboard for my journey to my authentic self. However, today’s guru is Pema Chodron, the revered Buddhist teacher, author, nun and mother. She is a purveyor of peace in these turbulent times ― a soothing salve for troubled spirits.

This week, I bought her calendar to hang over my desk ― a constant visualization to support my path to presence and focus. January’s quote is profound:

“The more you practice not escaping into the fantasy world of your thoughts and instead practicing the felt sense of groundlessness, the more accustomed you’ll become to experiencing emotions as simply sensations ― free of concept, free of story line, free of fixed ideas of bad and good.”

I love this way of looking at emotions ― actively embracing and experiencing them in a healthy way as part of my ongoing practice to master my own thoughts and eliminate limiting beliefs. My work is to notice what I am feeling. For most of my life, I have avoided my emotions and masked them with doing ― rather than feeling. This year is different. I intend to:

  1. Become a student of my own emotions. Honor and value them ― learn from and use them as essential data to become more energetically aligned. As Esther Hicks suggests, I seek to dissolve the “wobble” between my intentions and what I unconsciously believe about myself.
  2. Consistently connect to my inner divine power to discover the Love and Light in every moment ― accessing the ability to lift, support and propel my greatest possibility. Daily meditation is a key component of this one.
  3. Use my gifts as a writer, coach, actor and producer to express authentically and create work that shifts hearts, feeds minds and awakens souls.
  4. Mindfully use more words in my daily communication that accurately describe my feelings. And, find enormous value in this exercise as a writer. Emotional neglect therapist Dr Jonice Webb recommends, “Using words like dismayed, despondent, incensed, blissful, elated, morose, bland, raw, depleted, wary, strained, deflated, perky, free, quiet, devoted or feisty adds dimension and realness to your life.” What simple and astonishing truth.
  5. Notice at least one moment of joy in every day. This is another dimension of cultivating gratitude, I think. Seeing and feeling joy trains my unconscious mind to create more if it. The more you notice, the more you have.

I definitely find joy in viewing my son Ian’s incredible talent in this drawing. And what a wonderful metaphor ― the gentle warrior. Here’s to an abundant, joyful, peaceful and expansive 2018.