I've been digging for precious resources lately. For some reason I’ve been obsessed with finding people from my past; people who profoundly touched my life. I’m super blessed to have met many incredible people, and to have had so many amazing experiences in my 61 year journey on earth. Because my family was heavily involved in music and the arts, I was exposed to an eclectic body of people. Swami Parampanthi was a dear friend of our family for many years, and I learned much from his wisdom and palm readings. I met teenage heartthrob, Bobby Sherman, when we performed music for a group of VIPs.
I stood in wide-eyed wonderment in the lounge of the Magic Castle in Hollywood, CA, an exclusive and amazing club that celebrates magic and magicians. My friend's dad, George, was a member, and was taking me and my family there as his guests for my 14th birthday. The paintings on the walls had eyes that eerily followed me as I walked across the room. There was a piano, played by a "ghost" named Irma who would take special requests. I watched in awe as the keys of her piano magically went up and down as she played. I was utterly convinced she was real.
I recently read that July 16 is official "Wear Shorts Day." Really? I need an official day, as a reminder to wear shorts? How ridiculous! I wear shorts every day, year round (when I'm at home, which is most of the time). But, then I remembered how, a year or so ago, I realized one day that I needed to put a reminder on my calendar to remind myself of something very, very important. Way more important than wearing shorts at least once a year, but actually kind of similar.
I am always amazed when I look out my office window and suddenly realize that a “leaf” in the tree is actually a tiny bird blending in with its surroundings, or what appears to be a patch of brown grass is actually the beloved neighborhood coyote, named Fairway, stretched out flat, sleeping in the sun on the golf course.
That’s how God is; blended into our lives, everywhere, in every thought, in every action, in every person, in every thing; seemingly invisible, but actually visible to those who are willing to see.
“So, wait. What? Who is that guy, and why is doing that?” I asked my daughters who were watching a movie, comfortably draped over the couch in positions that only a 12 year old and 15 year old could manage, and many a yoga master would envy. (I always wondered how my youngest could watch movies upside down for hours, with her legs draped over the back of the couch, her head dangling off of the seat, sometimes even eating popcorn.) They sighed, and patiently explained the scene to me, knowing full well I’d be asking them for further clarification fifteen minutes later.
It was one of those days when I was filled with self doubt and a lot of questions. Would life ever change? Will we ever be free to move about the world again? I was feeling stuck, bored, and unmotivated. It felt like my life was not only at a standstill, but that maybe I was even going backward in my life.
I remember meeting my Grandpa Weeks for the first time when I was around five years old. My grandparents lived in Mantua, Ohio, and my family lived in Los Angeles, so I only saw them a few times over the course of their lifetimes.
It was 1982, and I was standing in the hallway of my family’s 24-track recording studio. The beautiful hallway had a 30 foot long fabric mural with a rolling rainbow design. The walls were paneled with beautiful wood, interspersed with dozens of floor to ceiling panels of mirror which created a really cool effect in the dim studio lights
As I recall, I was about 4 years old, and my brother was 6-1/2 years old, and we were precariously perched on our kitchen stools, waving our arms excitedly as we explained to my Mom where we came from. She was the instigator of this moment, as she had just asked us, “Do you remember where you came from?”