Don't Worry ... Be Happy!

I worry. It's true. I do. I learned this useless skill as a child, and I have practiced it until it has become a way of being at times. I'm rather good at it. And I recognize that it is not only not useful, but that it is a detriment to creating what I want to create in my life.

Sometimes, when I go to bed at night and I have a hard time falling asleep, I find my mind thinking thoughts that it has no logical reason to think. When I catch myself doing it, I can usually say "Stop it, Anne! Look at what you're doing. Think something happier!" But sometimes it takes me a while to realize that I'm doing it. I'm having conversations in my head with someone I am upset with, or I am creating scenarios I really don't want to experience!

It's not pretty, and it's not much fun.

In "The Secret," we are reminded that everything we think has energy or vibration, and when we add feelings to what we think, we give those thoughts power. Both fear and joy have power. Now fortunately, we live in a physical world where we do not experience instant manifestation - where if we were to think of an elephant then suddenly the elephant stands before us. Rather, we have time between the thought and the manifestation of that thought - for the most part.

For me, I am really grateful for that, because I really don't want everything I think to be manifested immediately.

Although there are times...

So, what is worry?

Well, like I said, for me, it is a practiced way of being - at times. And I am grateful for the "at times" part of that sentence. I used to worry far more than I do now. This is a good thing. It is a good thing that I used to worry about a lot more things, with more intensity, and with far more frequency than I do now.

Since studying the Law of Attraction, I now realize that the reason my life is so much better than it used to be is that I have really worked hard on nipping the worry habit in the bud. You see, when I used to worry more (and let's add complain more into that mix, shall we?), I used to be creating with the very energy I am now using to create joy and abundance and love with.

Peter Williams wrote a book entitled "You Can't Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought." He was right! We can't. Because those thoughts have power. They have energy, and they have their very own life force, which, if practiced frequently and often enough and with enough intensity, can wreak some real havoc in our lives.

Ok, so while I get that in my head, the issue I have is how to apply that in my life?

Abraham of Abraham-Hicks fame says we are "sloppy thinkers." I think they are right. I know I am. And while I have really worked on cleaning up my way of thinking, I still get seduced by worry and fear.

I remember Wayne Dyer using this example in one of his talks. He said "Think of something that upsets you, like a beautiful animal that has just been hit by the side of the road. It is laying there, bleeding and dying, in pain."

And then he said "Now think of something that brings you joy and delight, like the smile of your child when they were a baby, or a beautiful garden, or your beloved pet doing something funny."

See how easy it is to think of upsetting - and happy - thoughts? Just choose.

Jesus said "Choose ye this day whom ye shall serve: love or fear." It's the same thing. And this wisdom and advice has been handed down for centuries for a very good reason. It works! Just choose.

So the more I choose joyful, happy thoughts, the more I feel joyful and happy. And the more I feel joyful and happy, the more joyful and happy experiences show up in my life.

It really is that simple.

I didn't say it was easy.

Regardless of its ease or simplicity, I am a living example of the power of choice in choosing happy over sad, of choosing love over fear, of choosing joy over worry.

Well, usually.

I still have some work to do. But what else am I here for except to learn this and to be it (which, by the way, equals sharing it)?

Don't worry ... Be happy!

Oh, That Was Just Beautiful!

I sing. Some say I sing very well. Sometimes I think I sing very well. Sometimes I think I sound horrible. Some who have heard me sing might be surprised at this. But it's not because I always sing so beautifully, but rather because when they have heard me sing, I have practiced and practiced and my voice is warmed up and I am ready to actually perform the song, therefore my voice sounds good.

When I haven't sung for some time, however, I can hear how my breath is shorter than usual (meaning I can't hold the note as long as I can when my voice is more elastic and warmed up), how the note isn't quite on fully, especially in faster movements of the song, or how I just can't quite get that high note, and the notes themselves sometimes just don't have the purity of sound they have when my voice is warmer. And each time I get in that place, I have a little bit of panic inside. "Oh, no, what if this is all I can ever do from now on?" The anxious conversations begin to get activated inside. Beautiful? Not even close.

Then I practice and it begins to sound better. Whew.

Most times I sing, I sing at churches. Most recently, Francisco and I had been attending a Unity church in Hollywood, Florida, and for a little while, I sang somewhat frequently (about once every couple of months). Then it stretched to six months. Not enough for me. A singer needs someone to sing to, doncha know.

Odd, it seemed to me, that I wasn't doing more. Except that I understood the concept that diverse music is being offered to the church. I'm not terribly diverse; I have my style, my loves of form and method of singing, and I like to stick to it. I'm not a jazz singer, nor am I a gospel singer. I like slower, gentle, loving songs - songs with feeling and quiet, sacred heart. Songs like "The Lord's Prayer," and "Here I Am, Lord," and "You'll Never Walk Alone." And that can sound like one-note-Johnny after a while. I understand.

Before moving to Florida, Francisco and I lived in Charlottesville, Virginia. We were attending a lovely Presbyterian church, and both of us sang in the choir. I sang lots of solos there. People always were saying how wonderful it was; how beautifully I sang. (Sometimes I would wonder if they were just being nice, especially if I had heard some notes go flat or sharp.) Nonetheless, I love to sing and people kept encouraging me, so I kept singing.

Since moving here, we've been searching for a church. Like I said, for a while, we attended the Unity church. And it was lovely. The people are delightful. But we've been a little split between the Unity church and another lovely Presbyterian church we discovered, and so we are now connecting to the First Presbyterian Church in Hollywood.

It's nice to connect in different places.

This brings me back to singing. The Presbyterian church has more of the kinds of songs I like to sing. I love singing from a hymnal, and I love the types of solos I have heard. "Pie Jesu" was just beautiful, as was "He Shall Feed His Flock" from the Messiah at Christmas. The choir is lovely and active and sings beautiful classical songs. This gives me hope that I can sing frequently again and offer my voice, my heart, my soul. Musically, it feels like a fit.

And this brings me back to the other night. I was fixing dinner and decided to sing. It's one of my favorite times to sing, when I'm working in the kitchen. I was singing along with "Memories," from the Broadway play, "Cats," and as I finished the song, I could hear the ducks outside quacking.

Let me fill you in. We live on a lake. It is small and man-made, but it is a lake nonetheless. And at this lake live numerous fishing birds and ducks and turtles. Francisco and I delight in watching and feeding the ducks and the birds (not the fishing birds, other birds like Blue Jays, and the wonderful noisy Parrots) every day. Last year, one of the ducks had 10 ducklings, all of whom survived. As they grew, they got used to my voice, because I talk to them when I feed them. And they talk to me. So, imagine my surprise when I heard them quacking as I finished singing. (It's January, so my windows are open, wide open!)

I felt like St. Francis who gave his sermons to the birds!

It was the most delightful experience. I could almost hear them saying, "Oh, that was beautiful, do more!"

This makes me think that even though I didn't think it soundeds so great, maybe they heard something else. Maybe they heard the heart behind the song, the love and the passion. Maybe they heard me.

And maybe that's what people hear when I sing: my truth, my heart, my love, my connection to God. And maybe that's what they're talking about when they say "Oh, that was just beautiful!"