Unexpected Sparkles
Priming
This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.
My friend George has been in town for the past week and we’ve both been so busy, we haven’t met up once. Two days before he flies out, we stake out plans for dinner. He insists on treating because when he was in town last summer, I lasso’d him into joining me for lunch in the garden more than once.
I prime this morning for a dinner that surprises me, light and fun in every way. I lay in bed for several minutes, enjoying the feels of wonder and delight as they lift my heart. I trust in connection and ease. I’m twinkly in the moment, and that’s the point of priming. Nothing has to happen in the future at all. My brain and body are living the joy. I get the endorphin hit by thought alone, tapping into that creative and joyful place within. I’m making the most of my brain’s slow rhythm to both experience and program myself for an open mind and heart. The deed is done.
I’m happy to know that on the other side of town, my friend George is doing something similar. He’s one of a few dear friends I met and have kept up with from an Abraham Hicks event I attended two years back. It’s fun to share an overlap in world view and practice.
Priming is primarily valuable in the moment, and it also helps us open up to possibility in the future. It’s practice in taking the “feel good” neural pathways in relation to an event, and practice makes it more likely that we will find a feel-good path when the event arrives. I’ve picked two restaurant options, and George has signed off on both. Two hours before we meet, I call to find they are closed.
Here’s the gift of priming: I’ve been in a joyful roll-along all day for the most part, because I practiced attuning my neural pathways to the best possible feels in the morning. The fact that I do it every morning makes the benefits exponential, and this carries me a bit when the disappointing news comes in. While flummoxed initially that the restaurants aren’t open, within about eight minutes, I find the trust that something even better is waiting in the wings. And “better” doesn’t have to mean more fun or pleasurable. It could just be the best fit for both George and I in our personal evolutions and for our friendship. Sometimes bad news becomes best ever over time.
I hold the closure of restaurants lightly. I open myself to possibility. And while it took me an hour to research and decide on the two restaurants that didn’t work out, two more now come to light in a hurry. Tadpoles sprout legs faster when the pond dries up. The universe is right there to help me out in a pinch. Only problem is, the new restaurants are more upscale, and I worry about requesting that. It begs another quick conversation on whether I can contribute (he still insists on treating), a slightly vulnerable chat that brings us closer as friends.
The event now calls for more thought in what I’m wearing. I opt for a vintage jacket I’ve not yet debuted and a string of pearls that haven’t seen the light of day for decades. They go great together! Black jeans make the whole thing not TOO dressy. Now, I’m getting excited. In Oregon, playing dress-up is a rare treat.
The only reservation available is an hour after the time I’d planned to pick George up, but neither of us suggests a delay. Again, I hold the unexpected gap lightly, trusting there will be a gift in it. I had primed for an open mind and heart, and I’m happily experiencing that. As George and I chat on the road going who-knows-where an hour early, he asks about the book I’m writing. It occurs to me that we can drive to the top of the butte, where I can share the first chapter. He’s game! The view up there is sparkly. And it’s so much fun to connect around the big project that I’ve finished just that day.
An hour later, we walk into a dimly lit French restaurant that smells divine. Tastefully decorated with rich earthy tones and vintage prints, the atmosphere buzzes in a way both lively and intimate. George and I settle ourselves then to catch up with that bubbly flow that exists between kindred spirits. I’m excited to hear all about the family celebrations that have filled his past week. We order and eat slowly, appreciating every bite and every word.
Our mocktails are a fascinating blend of citrus, botanical bitters, and something brightly sweet. The beet salad with fresh herbs, fromage blanc, and sherry gastrique leaves us shaking our heads with wonder. The shellfish assortment balances nicely with garlicky umami and a lemon zing. Every single dish is out-of-this-world delicious.
I had primed for surprise, an open mind, and an open heart, but the reservations I’d first made were for restaurants I’d been to before. The universe delivered according to my feels, not to according to my original plans. I can’t complain. Who knows how long it will be before I see George again? The event was worthy of our long awaited connection and joyful friendship.
When have you been gifted the wonder you’d least expected after your best laid plans went awry? Did the hiccup support your growth personally and in relationship?
Priming is one of the practices in the Core Alignment with Joy series, now available as an At-Your-Pace online recorded class. See below for details.