Day 6 of Miracle Week

Well, day 5 was not so great. Scratch that, it had some pretty great possibility. I mean some things are in the works, seeds planted…but me being me, I don’t count my chickens before they hatch. But what DID happen yesterday is my miracle kid got the stomach flu. And my grandbaby is running a high fever. And I got another rejection letter from a pretty major agent. She said my life story was really interesting and she enjoyed reading it, but it would be too hard to try to sell the book of a person with no platform. ( If I wear platform shoes....does that count? hmmm...) Meanwhile, as Amy pointed out, Christine O Donnell got a book deal. Whatever.

Amy wrote to me “Welcome to the rejection club, Hollye Dexter”. And for some reason that made me smile, because I know I’m in some pretty good company here.

I’ve actually been a card-carrying member for quite a while now, being a singer/songwriter for twenty years. This is not much different than the music business. Some of the most talented musicians and singers I know are out there pounding the pavement in obscurity, while Paris Hilton and Heidi Montag have record deals. Who ever said life was fair. For some reason I seem to be drawn to the professions with the highest rejection rates: acting, music, and writing. Yes, I am insane. But I’m not alone! In fact, here is a short story on same famous authors rejection letters. Sorry Jack Kerouac, Sylvia Plath…you just have no platform- your book will never sell.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=14453550

Aaaanyhoo…My son kept his toast down this morning, and the baby smiled for the first time in 24 hours, so I will continue declaring my heart’s intent, praying away the bad Juju of the past year, and believing that miracles are at work under the surface. Since it’s the holiday season, I’m summoning the spirit of George Bailey in my favorite movie It’s a Wonderful Life. I’ve thought of him a lot in this Mr. Potter year. Just as George learned to do, I’m keeping my chin up, trusting that everything is happening for a reason, that things unfold in their own time, and that every single one of us is here for a reason and the world needs us.

And like Natalie Wood says at the end of Miracle on 34^th Street, after her hope has been dashed…I believe, I believe…

A Miracle Story

Six years ago I had the worst birthday ever. Worst. It was December 2004. I was estranged from both of my parents. My mother had exiled me for speaking out against something awful that had happened in our family. My father was struggling with addiction again, and had let our relationship go. Neither of my parents called or acknowledged my birthday. In fact not one person in my extended family acknowledged it.

As if being estranged from my parents wasn’t bad enough, the nonprofit foundation I’d co-founded was in the middle of a hostile takeover by some ambitious board members. Power and greed overcame altruism. The musical instruments that had been donated to my students (kids in foster care) were taken away. The grant money was pulled from my arts programs so they could use it for advertising and self promotion. They were attempting to oust me and run the organization themselves. It was the year of the Grinch, for sure.

On top of that, my daughter was away at college, and I was missing her. My son was a teenager, busy with his own life and his rock band. All I wanted for my birthday was a couple of my close friends over for dinner. But even that didn’t work out. Two of them only stopped by briefly on their way to another event, one got drunk to the point of puking, and the other’s car broke down on the side of the road. So while my husband went to rescue her, I went to bed alone. Happy birthday to me….

The day after my birthday, I crawled into my bed like a wounded animal and cried a year’s worth of tears. I went through an entire box of Kleenex. But I did something else too. For the holidays, I had made a mix CD of songs about angels. I played this CD all day while I cried. And I prayed - not just any prayer- I remember this prayer specifically because I chanted it over and over for hours.

Please send me an angel to help me believe in the goodness of people again.

Over and over and over…crying, praying, crying some more. I spent the whole day doing this.

Often times, miracles are already budding just beneath the surface of your life, but you can’t yet feel it. Never in a million years did I imagine what would come next, and it wasn’t until late January that I found out. That Christmas morning, completely oblivious, I already had the gift nestled inside me. Just weeks after I sent that prayer out into space, I had become pregnant at forty-one years old (and using birth control).

After the initial shock (and boy oh boy…what a SHOCK) we figured out it must have happened right before Christmas, maybe even on Christmas Eve. I knew then my prayers (or my intent) had been heard and answered. Certainly not in the way I expected - but rarely are prayers answered the way we expect.

On the September night I went into labor, there was a freak electrical storm. Thunder and lightning, unseasonal for California, announced Evan's entrance into the world. I always tell him he rode into town on a lightning bolt.

Every birthday since, I’ve had this little angel-boy to spend my day with, running around the house, raising a ruckus like he always does, testing my patience, teaching me to love on the deepest level.

All three of my children were miracles that I hoped and prayed for. Each of them came to me in a different miraculous way, and each has taught me so much about the true nature of love.

As I was writing this, my son Evan, five years old, came into the room and asked what I was doing.

“I’m writing about how you – and how you came to me like a miracle.”

“What’s a miracle, mommy?”

Hmmm…had to think about how to define that to a five year old.

“It’s when…something really good happens to you right at the time you need it.”

“Oh. Like ice cream?”

“Yes honey, like ice cream.”

“Can I have ice cream after school?”

“Yes.” I smiled and held his little face in my hands.

“I love you,” he said.

And that, my friends, is the miracle.

Living In Possibility

It’s day four of my personally declared miracle week. So far, so good. I managed to fight off getting sick (with good thoughts and prayers) and have had a few "possibilities" come up, which have yet to materialize, but I have faith. Yes I do.

Yesterday I read a short article on Cheryl Richardson’s website about manifesting the desires of your heart. She told a story about taking a walk on the beach with a friend, and she declared, “I’m going to find a perfect sand dollar today.” She’d only found a few in her whole life, but that day- she would find one. An hour later, sure enough she did. Her friend was quite impressed. She then declared she’d find another for her friend, and…she did. The point of the story was – decide what it is you really want, and then set your intent on it.

Reading this, I smiled to myself, remembering how a girlfriend and I used to do something similar. We had this favorite thrift store we’d frequent in a busy part of L.A. where the parking was impossible. Every time we’d drive to the shop, we’d spend the whole twenty minute ride chanting PARKING SPACE, PARKING SPACE…and sure enough, we’d always get one right in front of the store. We didn’t think much of it. It was just our silly ritual, a superstition at best. But now I’m really pondering. Why would I put so much intent and energy into something little like that, but not put that same attention onto the things I really want in life - things I want much, much more than a parking space?

Am I afraid of asking for too much? Am I afraid that maybe the Universe is a limited place and there’s only so much goodness to go around (even though I absolutely know that’s not true)? Is there something in me that feels I don’t deserve abundance and rewarding work?

Maybe I don’t want to bother God with my petty requests when there are so many others who need help more than me. But I’m struggling this year. Really struggling on every level, and I want to be happy again. I want to be happy, peaceful, healthy and free from financial worry. I want to make a good living with the writing and music that I do.

So maybe I need to reinstate the PARKING SPACE chant, but this time redirect my intent.

HEALTH

FINANCIAL ABUNDANCE

PEACE IN MY HEART

PEACE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD

HARMONY WITH ALL THOSE AROUND ME

ABUNDANT WORK AND OPPORTUNITY

But, unlike the parking chant, maybe I need to say it for more than twenty minutes. Maybe I need to say it, and pray it, every single day. Every single day. And see what happens…

What Is Your Heart’s Deepest Desire?

When I taught arts programs for at-risk teens, I’d have them start our 10-week course by writing what they wanted from life. When language was difficult for them, I’d have them collage or paint it. Later they would visualize then write about their lives in ten years. Where would they be living? Who would they share their lives with? What kind of work would they be doing? Then the specifics - describe the favorite room in their future home, the people who surround them, how it felt to do the work they did. For some of them this exercise was near impossible. Some of them simply said, “I hope to be alive”. Some said they hoped to be off probation. Some said maybe they could imagine working at a store. And my question always was – How can you expect anything of life if you don’t know what it is you want? You’ve got to search your heart for your deepest true desires, and then don’t be afraid to ask for it. Otherwise you are just drifting through life, going wherever the wind blows you.

Hello self. Are you listening?

Obviously I often forget to do this. Here I am in this awful year, financially and emotionally stretched to the limit and all I’m doing is dog-paddling to keep my head above water….just going wherever the current takes me. I can’t imagine my future. All I know is that I want to be out of this stress. That’s not much of a dream.

So this week is all about reclaiming my stake in life. I’m excavating the treasures of my heart, sweeping the cobwebs out of the corners, dusting off my ambitions and starting again.

Amy Ferris and I had a long talk about it, and decided this is our power week. She’ll be blogging about it as well. We’re going to do an experiment- First we get clear on what it is we really want. Self doubt, fear, shame will be swept away with the broom of truth. Then, every day this week, we will claim our heart’s desires with pure, clear intent. And watch what happens…

Yesterday was day one. I stated that I was manifesting money and miracles. I received a check in the mail for $166 dollars. Well, it’s a start, but perhaps I need to be a bit more specific.

So this week I’ll be asking myself these questions:

What does my heart want?

Where do I want to be in ten years?

What does it look like, feel like, taste like, sound like?

What (in me) is stopping me from claiming my stake in life?

We are all here for a reason. Every one of us has a purpose. Are we living our purpose, or just surviving? Will you join Amy and I for a week of miracles? We’ll start with a week, then who knows? Maybe we’ll stretch it out to a year, or maybe a lifetime? But for today…baby steps.

What does your heart yearn for?

( * Follow Amy's journey: http://marryinggeorgeclooney.com/blog/)

Miracles Are Everywhere

Have you ever experienced a miracle in your life…something you just couldn’t explain? Did you try to rationalize it away? Did you push it to the back of your mind as if it never happened? Yeah, me too. I wonder why we do that. Maybe we want to feel as though we control everything, and it’s a little too scary to admit there are forces much bigger than us in the universe.

I’ve written about several of my personal miracles on my blog ( if you want to read them, here are a few : http://hollyedexter.blogspot.com/2010/07/feathers.html,

http://hollyedexter.blogspot.com/2010/04/stepping-into-unknown.html)

I still forget about them, especially when I’m in crisis, as I have been for the better part of this year.

But lately I started praying again, and small miracles have already begun to happen. Miracles of the heart, of forgiveness, of kindness. Miracles of faith. I asked for help in believing again and suddenly there were articles in magazines, TV shows, emails, phone calls, books that showed up that made me feel the tingling all over, that “knowing” feeling that there was something bigger at work here. My Oprah magazine showed up today, and voila - it is all about miracles! There are some mind-blowing articles in there; Rocks that move on their own across the desert, a baby being stillborn only to come to life two hours later in his mother’s arms, a man who has healed thousands of people around the world with nothing but his mind and heart…

Miracles happen every day but we don’t talk about them. They aren’t reported on the news. People don’t discuss them at cocktail parties. Oh but we talk about Hollywood gossip and fashion and political mudslinging. Why don’t we talk about our miracles? What are we afraid of? Would people think we were crazy if we shared them?

Okay then. I’ll start it off. I’m crazy because I believe in miracles, and I’m going to start talking about it. A lot. I hope you’ll join me. In these troubling times, we need something positive to anchor ourselves to.

Will you share a miracle with me today?

Gratitude from the Dexter brood

Well it’s Thanksgiving again, a wonderful time to gather my own growing family around one table (a miracle in itself) and appreciate one another.

And wow, I am thankful. Truly thankful, even though this year has drained us of every last cent in our “emergency cushion” fund, and we’re now sitting on just box springs. Borrowed, financed box springs, at that. But hey…I’m not begging on the streets in Calcutta. I’m not living in a cave in Afghanistan. I’m not a prisoner of war. For as broke-ass-broke as this year has made us, I know that come tomorrow morning we’ll be like the Who’s down in Who-ville. We’ll hold hands and sing, and nobody – no Grinchy year, no cockroaches, no attacking pitbulls nor threatening neighbors, nor lawsuits, nor sewage spills, nor exploding appliances, cars and plumbing, no depression or loss, will be able to stop us. Because as cheesy as it may sound, what this family is rich in is love.

Big time L O V E.

Love and mess and chaos, but love overriding all.

I’m so thankful for my beautiful daughter Cristen, who is healthy and thriving in life, my newly married son Taylor who is balancing work with being a husband and father, a beautiful daughter-in-law Aya and our new angel Ayumu, and my little firecracker Evan who keeps me on my toes. Above all, I thank god every day for my husband Troy, who has weathered every storm with me so brilliantly. With him by my side I know I can get through anything (but please, Universe, let’s not test that theory).

But it’s when I take my friends into assessment that I realize - the year that brought us to our knees financially has given us something much more valuable. We got to see the true beauty in people. We have been surrounded by love and support, held up by kindness and empathy, bolstered by generosity of spirit. Our friends have given so much to us…so much. As much as I look forward to slamming the screen door on 2010’s ass next month, I will always cherish the gifts of love and friendship it brought me. (Not to mention it forced me to write a lot more just to maintain my sanity.)

Today is a day for giving thanks (because tomorrow I’ll be cooking all day.) You know how they have the acknowledgements page in a book? This is my acknowledgements page for this year. I couldn’t have survived the MOTHER OF ALL BAD YEARS without all of you. So cheers….I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow when I raise a glass. (Hell, what am I saying? I’m not waiting until tomorrow!)

THANK YOU:

Thank you Erin and Beth….for oh my god… everything. All the time. Every day. Life is unimaginable without you.

Thank you Dani and Hayden and Carly, for being my family, for loving us, for loving Evan and Mu so much, and so well. And thank you Joy for being Joy, and Cindy for brilliance and kindness and patience and dependability and endless support. And AMY for generosity and lifting my spirit, showing me how to be brave more times this year than I could possibly count. And Julie and Mary, OY! - where to even begin? And Monica for laughter, tears, hand-holding and margaritas…and Linda for the same! And my miracle brother Ted and sister Heather and all my family in Texas, you are my heart. Beverlee and Laura for your hearts and connection to my childhood. Joe for soulful music and deep friendship. Wayne Foster Entertainment for fun, glamorous work- and Dean De Lorenzo and Matt Sedoti and Rob for booking us all year. Lifelong friends Kelly and Keri, and Diane C for 23 years of constant belief and encouragement and burden-sharing. And all my beautiful writers/artist friends who encourage and support not only me but one another : Maxee and Barb and Madge and Richard (best poetic emails!) and Melody and Joyce M. and Diane L and all my Pam’s and Cheryl and Kathleen and Laurenne and Hope and Zoe and all my Amy’s and Cathy and Kristine and Molly and Denise and Christina and Stacy and Stacey and Sharon and Anita and Barbara and wow- I could spend all day writing names….there are so many people I am grateful for. So many of you mommy-friends ( Karla and Manuela and Aneesa) and facebook friends and childhood friends who wrote kind, supportive things all year long- Karen, Maria, Metris, Stacey, Scott, Laura, Mary, Rob for renewed friendship and Dennis- for saving my butt this Summer. Thank you both Mark C and Denise for guiding us through some scary police/legal challenges. Thanks to my awesome neighbors (all the others are GOOD ones) and all the wonderful people who keep Troy composing and ABCMouse.com and Troy’s friends (Tamara and Lori- love you girls!) and family for keeping him upright through the storm…and Cristen’s great bosses at Live Nation for making her so happy and all the people who employ Taylor- Big Moves and Emily Osment and GLEE and White Lights and …Evan’s amazing school and great teachers.

There is so much to be grateful for it’s starting to feel like a gratitude avalanche so please forgive me if I’ve forgotten to include your name, I am tearfully overwhelmed and they are starting to play the “get off the stage” music…..

Counting my blessings today, I feel not just rich, but uber-rich. Crazy rich. Gold plated engine parts and diamond encrusted teeth rich. If only MTV had a show for “Inner” cribs…I’d be showing Jay-Z what rich means.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I am grateful for YOU, every one of you, more than you will ever know.

Truly.

Lions and Tigers and Bears...oh my!

Lions and Tigers and Bears - Ha! They're nothing compared to roaches and black widows and centipedes, which is my disaster du jour. At least lions and tigers and bears can’t infiltrate your home right before Thanksgiving.

It’s as though the Halloween fairy paid a special visit. Or maybe the Wicked Witch. Or perhaps it’s Mother Nature letting me know my crappy year isn’t quite over yet- and this is her grand finale.

After having killed three black widows inside my house in the span of a week, and finding several three-inch long centipedes INSIDE MY HOUSE, the other night I was taking a cup out to make tea, and a cockroach skittled up my arm, causing me to scream and drop the cup. I didn’t know whether to call an exterminator or an exorcist.

We bought this house eleven years ago, and although it’s in a wilderness area, we have never had any trouble with insects or pest of any kind. But then again, this is 2010, the mother of all bad years. The (organic) exterminator told me that because California has basically had Spring for the past six months, perfect weather also helps insects to thrive and populate.

Anyhow, my husband and I spent all day Saturday moving our appliances out and scrubbing and sanitizing every square inch of this house. But what those bastard insects didn’t know was that Troy and I had snuggled in bed watching Avatar that morning (yes, we actually were the last people on Earth to see it). I was inspired. I was ready. I pictured Troy and I as the Navee, fighting the evil ones who sought to infiltrate our land. Except I did not look like Zoe Saldana flying on an alien pterodactyl’s back, wielding my bow. Here’s what I looked like: hair in a knot on my head, wearing pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, a man’s extra large t-shirt, black industrial cleaning gloves, holding a mop and boric acid. I blew myself a kiss in the mirror, Oh yeaaaah girl, you’re bringing sexy back.

This is just the way it is right now. My life is not glamorous. What I’ve learned in my years on this planet is that it is a waste of energy to rail against what is.

Like everything else that’s happened this year, we had to come up with a formula for dealing with disaster. These are our FIVE As for handling a Dexterocious catastrophe.

1) Assessment: Stop saying oh my god and try to wrap your brain around the situation.

2) Acceptance: Pull your head out of your butt and accept that this is your new reality.

3) Action: Take your emotions out of it and do something rational.

4) Accounting: Get another loan to pay for most recent disaster.

5) Act: Act as if you believe everything is going to be okay, then pray like crazy.

So we’re employing our usual method to this one…and meanwhile I have construction guys here pounding on my walls, sealing up all the holes they left this Summer when they tore my house apart trying to find the solution to my plumbing/septic problems, which we're still having, and I’ll be spending all of today clearing out all my cupboards and drawers for the exterminator who comes tomorrow…

Honestly, with all the ridiculous disasters we’ve wrangled this year, I could write a book!

Hmmmmm.....