COUNTING OUR BLESSINGS
By Marcia Singer
On my way to work this morning, it occurred to me that I have never felt more prosperous. In the play of a conscious moment, I noticed I was feeling blessed, and that my sense of being “prosperous” had absolutely nothing to do with what I owned, and certainly not with the pay I would be receiving for my efforts. No, my experience of plentitude had to do with a feeling, an experience of having enough, being enough, even more: a sense of overflowing with gratitude for the fact of my big little life.
I was on my way to a senior living community where I go Thursday mornings to teach my “Happy Medicine” class. Its purpose is to discover any and all the ways those of us present can shift from “oy” to “joy” in our lives and to experience happiness now, in this moment. As chief instigator, I conduct play-and-sing-alongs, take trips down memory lane, act the silly shaman, comfort, wax prophetic, do psychic body readings — whatever I am invited to share, or can get away with. While the pay is modest, the rewards are huge.
My students — pals and teachers in disguise — are as young as early seventies, and as old as 101. My heart is full in their presence. I stretch my comfort zone in loving and in feeling lovable. What’s more, I am getting to do this at an increasing number of facilities. It makes me feel so very good.
Perhaps it’s obvious to say that “prosperity” is about feeling good, but a few years ago, I thought of it more in terms of what and how much I owned, how much money was in the bank, what ‘security’ I could buy, what piece of the rock assured me a spot in heaven one day. “Abundance” was a word being bandied about, as was its opposing concept of “scarcity.”
We took the words apart and “danced” with the former, and labored in “scare city” with the latter. Now years later, I am getting old enough to glimpse the truth: it is only Love in any and all of its Guises that can bestow the blessing of prosperity, for being prosperous is not a thing, it’s a sense-ability, an experience.
To help me have the experience of being prosperous, even “affluent” more often, I have enlisted the support of two friends. Alisa and Janice and I meet twice a month at one of our homes and have a “master mind” meeting (a la Napoleon Hill) on prosperity. We include information from seminars, books and tapes on finances and investing, and share tips. We do rituals, collages — lots of creative stuff, and share a meal. But mostly what I’m finding we do together is appreciate, support and “love” one another’s uniqueness.
We nurture each other to blossom into our fullest capabilities, marvel at our differences and our similarities, and let Spirit guide us into any wisdom that might prevail. When I am with my friends, regardless of how much money I have (or don’t have, as the case happens to be right now) — I know that I am rich. I feel prosperous: I am blessed to have the opportunities I have, to be cared about, to be able to share who and what I am with a reasonable amount of comfort and trust, to have the World as my Oyster.
That attitude is delivering me many unexpected pearls. Recently I was invited to come and sing to patients in a “subacute” hospital ward of a local assisted living home. This was new for me, and I was a bit unsure of myself, what to do or not to do, how to be a positive, non-invasive influence. I strapped on my guitar and timidly moved from room to room. Perhaps we could say I was a little in “scare city.” Receiving smiles, nods, hopeful tears or deep, undisturbable sleeping as I made my way down the halls, I relaxed a bit. Small miracles were coming into play.
I will forever remember singing Irving Berlin’s popular love song, “I’ll Be Loving You, Always” to an old man massaging the hand of his comotose wife, standing patiently, even adoringly by her bedside. I couldn’t believe my fortune to have been granted entry to the private world of their devotion, to have stumbled into their undying love affair, to bear witness to the timeless truth of loving. I left their bedside weepily, humbly, grateful.
I now have a month of Monday mornings with these patients. I find that I lullaby myself as I sing favorite love songs, soothed by the quiet power of simply loving someone just as they are, especially in states that society finds not so lovable: sick, drooling, unable to move, wipe yourself — dying. I am astonished to discover how their acceptance of me turns me into a vehicle for heavenly sounds, for healing touches that simply say, “How precious you are,” and “How lucky I am” just to Be Here Now to catch a glimpse of the mystery of living. Of Loving.
I will return for “Happy Medicine” hour next week. We’ll “chair dance” together, reminisce, and wax prophetic. I will probably spend a lot of hours between now and then fretting over my finances and other “problems” in my life. But in the midst of it, I count myself extremely fortunate to know that I can and will trust Life and Self to conjur up lots of chances to remember blessings. I will increasingly be glad for my circumstances — all of them — and to be able to praise them for their Divine Origins. And to include myself in my praising.
This is Prosperity: to Know that I am Blessed, that you are Blessed, that Life is Safe, that Love is ever Present. As I learn to trust saying, “I love you,” and to find all the ways to be loved in return, I believe my life will become affluent, and I will be playing my biggest game.
In conclusion, I imagine a time when “prosperity” will be synonymous with my experience of living, when I feel wholly supported and sustained to freely give the gift I alone can be to life around me.
I invite you all to count your blessings, trust life, Be the Gift and prosper with me.
Marcia Singer, MSW, CHT is creator of the Foundation For Intimacy programs in SoCal. With a Master’s from U.C. Berkeley, this former international performing artist combines expressive and intuitive healing arts, “body-centered” Hypnotherapy (ABH#1703) and Tantric Shamanism into new possibilities. She’s writing a book, “The Tao of Play.” (818) 623-6434, (877) ART-WILD.
Return to the September/October Index page