From June 19th – The Wunderbar Falls

On June 16^th, I wrote in my journal: “I am angry! I want more! I need different! I want to feel juicy and alive! I want to discover the fracking meaning of my life! I need change! I need to be shook up! I want to put on my backpack and go! I’m going to take care of me and let everything else take care of itself for a while. I just want to live a meaningful life. I want pleasure. I want to sparkle. I need to take care of this most important relationship with myself. “

Strong stuff, written in red ink.  But I got up the next morning and went to work, made some more phone calls, blah. And then a few days later, the Wunderbar fell.

I’d been eyeing that Wunderbar each time I went into the kitchen at work for a coffee. It was there, in the candy machine, calling to me like a chocolately siren, from behind the Crunchie Bar, who was not sexy to me at all. So I’d look at all the goodies, see that the Crunchie bar was still blocking my heart’s desire, and go back to my desk. But Monday, Monday when I went into the kitchen, well, I wanted that Wunderbar. That Wunderbar and I were destined to be together. So I marched back to my desk, opened my purse, and took out enough money to buy the Wunderbar AND that damn Crunchie. (at this point, I found myself wondering why I didn’t just cross the street to the Esso station and buy myself a damn Wunderbar weeks ago, but anyway…) I put the first few coins in, pressed D-1, and didn’t the Crunchie Bar get stuck, and there was my darling Wundebar, delivered into my waiting hands.

Ten minutes later, as I sat at my desk, licking the last of that caramelly-chocolate-deliciousness off my fingers, I said to myself, “That was easy. If only I could remember this feeling, and use it to manifest bigger things, more important things.” And then, coffee break over, I made some more phone calls.

Tuesday morning when I woke up, somewhere around 4am, I knew that I was going to do something different, that I was not going to spend my summer making phone calls, and that something was going to happen. I was going to make something happen. And a week later I was sitting in the airport waiting to board a plane to London, heading for two weeks of sacred dance and song at Findhorn, and a plane ticket home dated September 4^th. 

Where will I go? What will I do? Who will I become? What answers will I find, and what questions? My mind is enquiring, and I want to know.