August marks the beginning of my transition to living in a new locale Following are highlights from the road with my daughter, Kate:

• Kate’s very last ortho appt, one last photo of Kate doing the penguin pose in her room, and one last stop at Sahr’s for a big bear hug from Ron and we were on the road.
• Buddha (cat) went on a hunger strike all day and cried incessantly at our first stop in Montana, so after having dinner with my college roommate, we moved on to Bozeman staying with another college buddy. He had to remind us to take the cat with us in the morning – almost forgot.
• Bozeman to Las Vegas in good time until a little east vs. west discrepancy had us driving around Vegas for over an hour showing Kate all the illegal driving maneuvers known to man she is NEVER to repeat.
• Plush guest house accommodations in Vegas eases Buddha’s nerves and he makes a new friend, Stripes.
• Vegas to Phoenix IKEA, about 125 degrees in the car, so Buddha had his first IKEA experience in a cart with Kate’s stuffed animal, Guster. A very traumatized cat, however stilled adored by fans and employees. After inconveniencing my cousin’s wife for over an hour, the stuff didn’t fit in her car anyway and had to be shipped. Oops. Ran into someone I know in IKEA, though, so still a beautiful, small world.
• Had plans to relax and enjoy family birthday celebrations, but the movers were scheduled to arrive between 10-11 am, and Jake was starting his new job, so we were back on the road by 8 am.
• Kate and I sat in an empty hot house watching the air conditioner do its thing dropping from 99 degrees to 80 by almost 3 pm when the movers finally arrived. Insisting on being paid in cash or money order at 3 pm on a Saturday afternoon brought to my awareness how out of practice I am in swearing and being an intimidating bad-ass. Wow, who knew you could lose your talent for effectively throwing f-bombs around? Felt like a sissy, a grateful sissy, but a sissy none-the-less.
• Discovered my body chemistry changes to emitting a garlicy odor when under prolonged excessive stress – must be the Italian wannabe in me.
• World’s greatest events and life coordinator, realtor and friend, Sue Brooks, to the rescue, I now have a new account with my friend, Michael at Wells Fargo, who understood my need for speed having left my daughter alone in the house with 3 foreign men. Returned, paid them off (by the way, the deposit has nothing to do with them – ???whatever) and now have a garage full of furniture I question even wanting. Next move is only what fits in my pockets.
• Waiting for the flooring to go in, we have come full-circle living with the Bellefeuille’s, only this time we are unable to line up our infants and toddlers on the floor and take photos of them. I remember thinking how cute our kids were;  it is nothing compared to how beautiful they have become. Life is good.

I spent the weekend in Minneapolis at the home of my dear friends, Wes & Lori. Wes loves to ask provocative and challenging questions at precisely the right moments; I think he makes a sport of it. Admittedly, all questions challenge me lately as my fairy articulate self has taken a detour onto the bumbling and blubbering road less traveled.

Wes’s provocative question  came as I was complaining about my loss of articulation and ability to respond, and sadly with that, the loss of my quick wit. He simply asked, “That’s a normal part of this, Darcy. So, how do you feel as you go through this transition?” (For those of you who may not know, I have chosen after years of contemplation, to separate from my husband). You know a good friend when they can look you directly in the eye, speak the simplest words, and cause you to find an answer, not that originates in your vocal cords, but from a place deep within, buried carefully under protective layers of , “Oh, it feels OK most of the time, ya know,” and “It isn’t always easy but I think I have made the right decision,” and the ultimate placating response, “I’m great!” No, not with my good buddy, Wes. He looked deep into my soul when he asked, and so he received a response from the same place, “I feel like caterpillar soup.”

Caterpillar soup? Yes. For those of you who aren’t entomologists, or who didn’t have the privileged of raising three critter-crazy little boys, I will give you a the laymom’s brief and completely unscientific overview of the life and times of a caterpillar: They creep around eating whatever edible they slither across, gaining strength and storing the nutrition necessary to assist them in masterfully creating a cocoon or chrysalis within which to hide as they breakdown utterly and completely until they resemble caterpillar soup. (Us moms can speak that in one big breath while chopping onion with one hand and stirring the evening’s stew with the other…stew, that for some reason, the kids decide they aren’t hungry for come dinnertime).

So, my truth spewed forth, all over Wes. I have crept through this abundant and beautiful life, enjoying the fruits of my labors, ducking sharp beaks and raindrops the size of my head, gathering the spiritual food necessary to finally begin the process of becoming all that I am. But to get there, I must (as I am in the process of) utterly and completely dissolve old pattern and ideas, ways of being that were useful while I was bound to the ground by the weight of myself, and stop resisting the final, difficult and necessary phase: the dissolution of my self. I can’t even say, “my former self” because I am still me up until the one metamorphic moment when I am transformed into my potential.

It is interesting to me that the butterfly receives so much attention and adoration, yet it is the diligence, the fortitude, the immense courage of the caterpillar that even makes her possible. As I stew in my chrysalis of change, trying to hold onto aspects of my self that I hope make it through the transition, and I gladly pound the breath out of what I hope doesn’t stick, I appreciate the caterpillar. I admire her, and hold her dear; I thank her for her tremendous courage in the face of outcomes she can only imagine; I wrap my loving wings around her and encourage her process…wait, did I say wings? Is it possible…I am on my way…

I am in the process of becoming a certified Hypnotherapist, taking the “long course”, over a period of four months, so that I can fully digest and thus feel properly prepared to serve clients needs. I was driving home from Minneapolis and my fist class session yesterday mulling over life, as I do so often.  I was thinking about a question asked by a student something to the effect of: “do babies come into this world as empty slates, ready to suck up whatever conditioning they are subject to?”

I don’t believe this to be the case at all, but the question did get me to muse about my own childhood and the inner guidance I have received from the point of my earliest recollection.  What did I know as a child? I knew that I wanted to be an artist; I knew that creating cards as a way of expressing my love was meaningful to me; I knew that I was a good listener and that people were attracted to me for calm, caring, wise presence…even as a child; I knew that I my way out of my darkness was to find the light within, and so I was very introspective; I knew that writing was imperative to my emotional wellbeing. I knew that beauty was absolutely essential to feeling good, and so I sought to create it in my surroundings, where there was little.

I then mused about my journey into the person I have become. I took several detours along the way, including changing my major in college three times ending in a field unrelated to what I knew as a child was my destiny. But life always found a way to steer my back to the truth of who I came into the world as. I knew then, as a little child, who I was and how I could best serve the world and myself. It was only when I gave more credence to my logical mind than to my creative, spiritual mind that I would find myself walking down the wrong road. But, life is benevolent, and eventually would steer me back on course through circumstances and opportunities.

As a child, art was my passion and channel for expression of love:  Today, I create whimsical, love-oriented art for The Grateful Goddess and for sale.

I knew I had a gift for helping others: Today I am or am well on the road to becoming a Hypnotherapist, a motivational coach, a Grateful Goddess inspirational leader, a teacher, a loving mother, friend and sister.

I am a constant student, seeking for truth, which I was even as a young woman.

And I write, because it feels so good!

Look back on your childhood. What did your young heart know? What inspired you? Your wise and wonderful  child, who came into this world with full knowledge of your greatness and remembrance of your Source origin, knew the path to your joy and fulfillment.  The path is always there waiting to be tread upon, and at the end of the road, you will come home to yourself.

A man is known by his deeds, not by his religion.
Love one another. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Fear nothing for God walks beside you, always. There is but one God. Forgive. Judge not. Be grateful. Man is created in God’s Image.

The Grateful Goddess consciously chooses not to affiliate with any one particular religion, but strives to live by the basic principles shared by all religions. I think you would agree, it would be difficult to dispute any of these aforementioned principles. We believe we are all one, that we all come from the same source. Our beliefs lie in the core messages we believe God was trying to impart with us, therefore we welcome all denominations as we believe they all started with these core beliefs. From there, many other thoughts were added to these beliefs. That we are all sinners. That we are not worthy. That we will be judged and crucified for our sins. This is where religions break off and people see themselves as separate rather than one. Personally, I am still growing and evolving and aspiring to live a life of non-judgment and oneness, but each day I choose only love, I grow happier and more grateful. Today as I sang along with the church congregation, ‘Who am I that God would even remember my name’ my inner voice cried out ‘I am a child of God, that is who! Would we forget our child’s name? We have only love, hopes, dreams and desires for our children, and God, with infinitely more love than I, would surely have no less than the greatest desires for me.’ Whenever I hear that we should be shameful, fearful and that we are unworthy, I pause and think, “Is that what God would really want me to think?” Can I achieve my greatest potential and shine my God-given talents and beacon of light on mankind if I feel unworthy or unqualified?” Why does man interpret God’s messages as anything but pure love and asking us to follow in his path and be pure love?

To Thine Own Self Be True

I have been contemplating the upcoming Goddess Gathering and our topic, Rewriting Yuor Story. It is such and important message and I so love to share insights and experiences others may, or may not, grow from. As I was thinking back to my life and the stories I have created, I had a realization:

In spent my childhhod hiding

I spent my teens rebelling

I spent my twenties exploring

I spent my thirties conforming

I am spending my forties becoming

Think about the decades in your life. Where have you been, and who consequently are you becoming?

I spent the weekend in Denver, Co. at a PSYCH K training, in hopes of releasing my own negative subconscious messaging, and learning to help others do the same. I spent my lunch hour alone to digest information, and because I felt I needed a bit of time to find clarity about what it is I really want for my life. A sentence from my list stated: I want more exotic and adventurous travel.

The first day of the workshop ended after sundown, and I proceeded to hop into my sister, Angie’s, red Cadillac, follow a fellow student to I-25N, and head for Angie’s home in Fort Collins, and hour north of the city. As luck would have it, a sporting event ended at the same time, and I was swept up in five lanes of traffic going 70 MPH in a city I had never driven in; I unknowingly veered onto I-70 and miles off course, realizing my mistake when I passed the airport. I remembered my sister stating when she picked me up that morning from the airport that I wouldn’t be on this stretch of highway again, so no need to pay attention to the landmarks. It was not the way to Fort Collins. I took the first turn off the highway and made a panic call her that went something like, “Help! I don’t know where the #*6% I am.” At that point I was experiencing confusion, but after looking around at a string of battered industrial-looking buildings and run-down bars, confusion quickly turned to fear, which ultimately lead to tears. I felt like a sitting duck in a shiny red Cadillac as I sat on the edge of a seedy dark road attempting to figure out Angie’s GPS system.

I have lived long enough to realize that with a little faith and the right tools one can get in and out of most any situation, so with the GPS engaged, I began following directions (not my usual mode of operation). It took another forty minutes of driving in circles and vexating dead ends, but eventually I was on the right path and an hour later, unwinding in Angie’s living room with a shot of tequila and a sympathetic crowd waiting to hear all about my big “adventure”. Adventure, huh? Isn’t that what I had asked for earlier that day?

The next day, I wandered off the beaten path again, this time on foot, in search of a new lunch spot. Realizing I’d walked too far to and had better get into a restaurant soon, I ventured into a place called The Bump & Grind Coffee Shop. Odd name, I thought, but surely they’d have a muffin or something quick to offer. I took a seat near the window, and caught a glimpse of the most unattractive waitress. I scolded myself for making such a judgment, forgave myself, and stuck my nose back into the menu. Suddenly, a gruff voiced, hairy chinned waitress in size 12 five-inch pumps, a very short red cocktail dress, false eyelashes and a quart of greasy foundation straddled my legs with (hers?) and asked me what looked good. I almost choked on the irony of it; nothing looked good, but I’ll take the Buttafuco, thank you. Soon, a plate of white cheese-coated mushroom heads on a toasted bun appeared. It was appropriately named, I thought, and surprisingly delicious. I grossly over-tipped the waitress (she need a facial), and walked in a dreamy daze back to the workshop.

I shared my experience with fellow students, still wondering if I had dreamt the whole thing. Denver residents laughed, telling me that Sunday’s are drag day the Bump and Grind, but the two words they spoke between giggles that stood out were “exotic” and “adventure”. Those word struck my with such force, I just had to join the giggle fest. Exotic adventure? Is this what I asked for? Verbatim; it just looked a bit different than I had imagined it would. The Universe always delivers.

I found a large heart-shaped rock while walking the sand hills of ND today. My nephew, Chris, his mother and I frequently exchange heart rocks, so I am always on the lookout for one to gift. “I think Chris needs a happy, energetic artwork and this rock is large enough to draw upon,” I thought. Chris has been experiencing a lot of pain lately, as his mother and her long-time partner, who he calls “dad”, face a break-up. We have been talking by phone (as he’s living in the wilds of Alaska), where love is sent in high voltage via telephone lines…and soon in rock form via postal service.

Tonight, not long after my rock-hunting outing, I received a phone call from Chris. He had a good day…finally. I told him about the rock and he said, “Are you still doing art, Darcy? I’ve been thinking I’d like a painting. Will you paint it for me?” Although we never have marked upon the rocks we’ve exchanged, somehow we both knew this one needed a little something extra. He in Alaska, and me in North Dakota, both sharing the same thought, on the same day.  We are never far apart from those we love. Our energy touches everything we think about, and today, through the rock, loving thoughts, and Chris’ phone call, I again received affirmation of this truth.

The things I said I’d never do, like pick my nails the way mother does, or laugh at my own jokes like dad, or cring when my son returns home from his summer job on the way back to his university half a country away and says, “Mom, I think I’m gonna change my major to music”.

As I write this I look into the room where he sits, guitar in hand, bangs hanging in an easy mass of curls as he examines a song on the computer screen. He is very good at the guitar, and not by accident; he plays hours each day. He has aspirations of joining a band this year, and not just any band, but a “really good one.” Who am I to squash his dreams? Who am I to say, “and how do you expect to feed my grandchildren one day?” or “how many great musicians make a bonifide living?”  I bit my tongue, but a few words managed to slip around the edge of my lip and drip a word of caution, “Maybe you could double major, Ben.” Then, upon seeing the torment on his face at the idea of that, “Well, could you pick up a few music classes and see how it goes before you decide to declare a new major?” Gratefully, this seemed to stick and I could pull my canines out of my ragged tongue.

Interestingly, TGG’s last gathering was “Awakening Dreams” and unless I slept through my own “lecture”, I would naturally and whole heartedly encourage Ben’s dream to be a musical artist. What is the alternative? Perhaps it’s best to simply sit back and watch, and remember that whatever he decides to do he is on the right path. Now, I know I put that bite plate somewhere…

Upon discovering that I had an unusually empty space in my typically packed summer calendar, I spontaneously loaded my two youngest sons and foot-loose mother into the Murrano for a week-long trip over the Bear Tooth Pass into Yellowstone National Park. During the drive I made a few discoveries: I can drive hours on end; I have a low tolerance for bickering in the car; my mother has developed far more patience and better humor than I ever remember her having in my youth. Soon, the thrill of dropping out of the Bear Tooths into Yellowstone’s Lamar Valley had the passengers making a few discoveries of their own, including bear, bison and impressive landscapes.

As the boy’s eyes darted from sight to sight and my mother lamented having lived her sixty-five years in eastern North Dakota when she much preferred the mountains, I dove deeply into my pool of memories created twenty-seven years ago during my two year stint in Yellowstone. I mused the entire drive to Canyon Village, our first stop in the park, and my first location of employment there as a naive and adventurous nineteen year old college freshman.

(more…)

Somewhat addicted to self-improvement and personal development classes, books and workshops, I attended Bigger Small Talk in Fargo this week, an open communications forum created and led by Jodee Bock. I was having a conversation with a cherished friend and mutual masterminder, Cari Luchau, and she was talking about making it a priority to do the top 6 tasks on your to-do list that will bring you closer to your number one goal in life. Included in that list is at least one energy recharger, which for her was running or some type of physical activity AND at least one task that is considered an energy drainer. These are all the little bothersome things that we do not believe are in our way as we are capable of ignoring them. What we fail to realize, however, is that every time we see it, it reminds us that we still haven’t dealt with it, and thereby zaps us of energy over and over again. She stated that the average person has between 60-100 energy drainers. Some of mine include the pile of dry cleaning which was waiting for more companions or the special occasion making it a priority before it was worth my attention. Or the broken window and shredded screen that I see several times a day and causes a great big sigh. One I recently completed was the leaking toilet brought to light when Tracy Green reviewed my house for Feng Shui improvements. It was by no means the only problem child I had been ignoring, yet it was the largest one screaming for attention and yet I managed to ignore for years. The funny thing about these energy drainers is that they take much less time to deal with then not and having it constantly weigh on your mind (not heavily, but it is there, occupying space.) The next morning I called the dry cleaner. Hmm, that wasn’t hard at all, why did I wait so long? (more…)

I began reading The Disappearance of the Universe by Gary Renard a few years ago, in conjuction with a study in A Course in Miracles. Funny how just when I get to a pivotal point in a self-discovery book ( I prefer that to “self-help”, and I am pretty sure my ego has something to do with that) I close it. I grabbed the book, without thinking  or caring much about which book it was, while running out the door to catch the family van headed toward Ontario for a fishing trip; I can do four hours in a boat, but after that I knew I’d find myself wanting a book in my hand instead of a fishing rod.

I glanced over what I had read a few years back, then proceeded to journey deeper into the pages of this mind-bending book. I cannot begin to describe Disappearance of the Universe, but suffice it to say, Iam beginning to watch the disappearance of my ego, my drama, my problems, my judgement, my guilt, my my my my my my! As you can see, self-absorbtion takes a while to disapear…and a ton of dedication and committment. But the return to what is real is well worth it, as is the time (its an illusion anyways) it takes to read the book, in my case two years. If you have read The Disappearance of the Universe, please share your thoughts and experiences. I’d love to hear them.

This prayer comes from Will Bowen, author of A Complaint-Free
World, who said it was the greatest consciousness
conditioner available to attract prosperity into your life.
Here it is…

Prosperity Affirmation

(Read Aloud Every Day for 30 days)

I am the source of all wealth. I am rich with creative
ideas. My mind abounds with new, original, inspired
thoughts. What I have to offer is unique, and the world
desires it.

My value is beyond reckoning. What the world needs
and desires, I am ready to produce and give. What the
world needs and desires, I recognize and fulfill. The
bounty of my mind is without hindrance or limit. Nothing
can stand in the way of my inspired creativeness.

The overflowing power of God life energy overcomes
every obstacle, & pours out into the world, blessing & prospering everyone, & everything through me.

I radiate blessings, I radiate creativity, I radiate prosperity, I radiate
loving service. I radiate Joy, Beauty, Peace,Wisdom & Power. Humanity seeks me and rewards me. I am beloved of the world. I am wanted wherever I go.

I am appreciated. What I have to offer is greatly desired. What I have to offer brings a rich reward. Through my vision the world is blessed. Through my clear thinking & steadfast purpose, wonderful new values come into expression.

My vision is as the vision of the mighty ones. My faith is as the faith of the undefeatable. My power to accomplish is unlimited. I, in my uttermost God Source, am all wealth, all power, all productivity. I hereby declare my financial freedom, NOW and
henceforth forever!

Today may there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are.
Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

Much like the monarch butterflies in the Dakota autumn, my Simonson family matriarchs have left in search of a warmer, gentler place. And, like the butterflies, their journey’s were filled with perils and near misses as they attempted to duck the claws of predatory cancer, dodge oncoming obstacles, and persevere to see the trip through until there was evidence that loved ones had embraced the cycle of physical life and could rest assured that the women were prepared for their final metamorphosis out of weak and ravaged bodies to a place where they can spread their wings and let their spirits soar.
The butterfly has been a significant symbol during my forth decade. Besides the more obvious message of transtion it is a reminder to me that although people may appear to have little power, with trust and courage, the reality is much greater than that. I have experienced periods of challenging and somewhat painful growth, in which I feel as if I am pushing through a chrysalis, struggling to see my vision, my spirit, my mission through to its full potential. I see through the transitions of my matriarchs, that these periods, though extremely important and relevant to my spiritual growth, are only a glimpse of the final transition we must all experience as we set ourselves free of physical constraints. (more…)

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I laughed when I read Theodore I Rubin, MD’s quote, “I must learn to love the fool in me—the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me from that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of my human aliveness, humility, and dignity, but for my fool.”

When I read this, I felt a weight lift from my heart. The “masterful tyrant” within me had held my fool hostage, locked behind bars of propriety and guilt. The little girl who longed to dance with the wind, only to be told that when she raised her arms in the air her underwear showed; the young woman with dreams of attending Boston University to become an attorney, lobbyist, writer and artist, but ended up with a Mass Communication degree from a local college because it was impractical and unrealistic to believe she could afford to attend school out of state; the mother who wanted to pursue her passion but for a decade diligently played out her domestic role for fear that her children or family would somehow suffer; the woman, now in her forties, who knows what she wants but wonders still if she is capable of accomplishing it, as the tyrant reminds her that she may yet fail and should therefore play it safe and learn to be satisfied with what she has…all of these, me, imprisoned by the masterful tyrant.

My fool is powerful, however, and eventually seems always to conquer the tyrant. When she does, my light grows a little bit stronger. I don’t wish to imply that to be the fool is always easier, or even more fun (although most of the time it is), but without that brave, selfish, adventurous, sexy, crazed fool I would not have grown into myself. I may never have laughed until my ears hurt, cried until my heart broke, or felt all the joy or sadness that life would invite me to feel. I do love the fool in me, and when I get a glimpse of yours, I love her, too.

When we named the business The Grateful Goddess, we didn’t consider all the ramifications that may come about with such a title. Since then, it is interesting some of the responses you get from others once you have declared yourself a goddess (which we all are.) I do, however, appreciate the constant reminder the name is to me to stay grateful in seemingly ungrateful circumstances. But the real test has come in when people think you are claiming goddess beauty. As goddess attributes embody so many wonderful qualities such as gratitude, knowingness, compassion, oneness, joy, forgiveness, peace, mindfulness, and so much more… my first thought doesn’t necessarily go there, but yes, goddesses also imbue beauty. As we all know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And a real goddess knows that one’s inner beauty radiates much brighter than her outer beauty.

Or at least that is what I tell myself when I think about the day I was trying to be all things to all people and yet still carve out a little time for personal maintenance and dye those gray hairs that were now a full inch of my part. With my head fully covered in dye, my daughter begged me to give her a ride to her friend’s house. Certainly, once I am finished, I would be more than happy to take her anywhere she wished. That just wouldn’t do for a teen with a very hectic social calendar. Caving in, I wrapped a plastic bag around my hair, covered it in a hat and away we went. Knowing about the laws of attraction, I did my best to rid myself of the image of getting in a car accident and being seen by hundreds, maybe even thousands as I am plastered all over the evening news where they can’t help but go off topic of the accident, to – “do you really think she is a goddess?” “She doesn’t look like one.” “Well, she claims to be.” “The audacity!” So you can image my relief as I successfully arrive back home from my adventure and pull into the garage without incident. I am almost giddy as I run into the house, up the stairs and remove the hat and bag from my head. Unfortunately, the euphoria lasted only briefly as I came to discover the plastic bag had slipped down and I had just painted my forehead a lovely dark, espresso brown.