When the Boston Herald "suspended" my blog a few months ago because I wrote about a student who had a terrible experience with a toxic birth control (recommended by her doc - gasp), with the intention of spreading the word to all the other Sisters so they will not do the same, I cried for 30 minutes. I love my editor and was surprised and disheartened by his reaction and all of the disgraceful baggage behind it. Then I got up, dusted myself off, and continued to write -- for my own website only. I haven't missed it one bit. Meant to be.
When I lost "our house" in Barrington, Rhode Island after going back and forth for 2 excruciating weeks with the sellers in what can only be described as an odd and painful real estate experience, I cried for 30 minutes (with my kids surrounding me and hugging me), and then I got up, dusted myself off, taught a free yoga class for our new global health and wellness company, and moved on. I found our actual house the very next day, put a bid in the next time we looked at it and the deal was done about a day or two later. A purely joyful experience. Meant to be.
Yesterday we biked past the first house that I (erroneously) thought was ours, and Phoenix, age 9, declared, "If we had bought that house, I would've slept outside every single night!" He believes it is haunted. ;) ;)
Good news? Bad news? Who knows . . . there's an old Chinese proverb that tells a tale like this about a farmer whose stallion runs away.
Ya never know, so ask, trust, believe, and keep your heart open because the Universe is sending you exactly what you asked for -- but actually, even better.