Of course I do! Big brag coming up.

On Duolingo I have a streak of 2332 days. That’s over six years.

I used to play a game on my phone called Knot Words. I had a huge streak going until I realized the only reason I played the game was to maintain my streak.

That’s how they get you. Almost everything is gamified these days. And, in most ways, that’s a good thing. Establishing a streak is a low-pressure way to create pride and self-respect around things you’re already doing or would like to do in everyday life. Once you’re on a roll, each day you add feels like a prize.

Floss your teeth. Stretch. Do the New York Times crossword puzzle. Keep that streak going. We hate to break the streak because of what’s called loss aversion.

So, maybe it’s time to add spirituality to your list of streaks. What appeals to you? Yoga? Meditation? Walking in nature? Saying an affirmation? Keeping a journal? Setting aside two minutes to feel gratitude? Pulling a tarot or oracle card for reflection?

Choose one. Put a reminder where you’ll see it. I have Duo written on each day of my planner. Or you can set an alert on your phone until you establish a habit.

Spirituality encompasses a sense of connection, meaning, and purpose, which can significantly enhance wellbeing and life satisfaction.

And streaks are really just rituals dressed up in different language. A meditation streak is the same thing as a meditation practice, just framed differently.

Whether we call it a streak, a practice, a ritual, or a ceremony, it serves the same purpose: adding structure, predictability, and meaning to our days. And who doesn’t need more of those?

We’ve all seen the affirmations and Facebook posts that say I am enough.

You may see that sentence and think, Am I? Or you think, Who wants to be enough? I want to be extra! Maybe you don’t give it any thought at all.

I turned sixty-five recently and, as I looked at my high school graduating class’s Facebook page, I saw that there are a few doctors. There’s a woman who has a PhD in microbiology, who is the president of a college, and who has her own Wikipedia page. There’s a guy, a basketball photographer, who has over ten thousand Instagram followers.

When I did my annual life review, all I heard was a sad trombone. Wah-whaaa.

Fortunately, I was able to tell myself to knock it off before I fell too far down into despair.

Get a grip, Toni.

I pass out at the sight of blood. Being a doctor would have been a terrible career choice. I never liked studying science, so a PhD in microbiology was not going to happen. And, while I like basketball, I don’t think anything sports related would have suited me.

There will always be someone who makes more money, who has a higher-profile job, or who has a greater impact on the world.

What there will never be is another me. There will never be another you.

The Universe needs us to be exactly who we are. The light we shine is unique. Our contribution matters. We might not believe it’s great, and that sort of false belief keeps us small. It keeps us from shining brightly.

Have I accomplished what I set out to do? Yes. As a young child, I set the goal of learning seven languages. Check. As a teenager, I wanted to help people connect with Spirit. Check. As a young adult, I decided I wanted children and grandchildren. Check. And now I can enjoy the things I have achieved as well as set new goals.

And, when I feel down, when I feel I’m not contributing enough to society, I can remember that in the immortal words of Queen, fat-bottomed girls make the rocking world go ‘round, and know I’m doing my part.

Why would Antigone come up twice in one hour?

Or Chaucer, for that matter.

Yesterday, I was relaxing, reading Lauren Groff’s Fates and Furies. The main character decided to write an opera about Oedipus’s daughter Antigone. While reading, one of my brothers sent me a text about Chaucer (as brothers tend to do, am I right? No? Just mine?). I replied and then decided I needed to see Conan O’Brien’s turn on “Hot Ones” because I had heard that it was insane (it was). Conan mentioned Chaucer. Then I went to watch my favorite detective show from New Zealand and there was a character named Antigone James.

So, I googled all of that.

“Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde and Antigone, while not directly related, share a similar thematic focus on the role of women and their influence in shaping men’s destinies.”

Huh? Color me curious.

We tend to oversimplify curiosity. If we want to know something, we can immediately look it up. But don’t let Google’s answer satisfy you.

Curiosity is complex, mutating, unpredictable, and transformational. It’s not about finding an answer as much as it is about finding connections between ourselves, others, and the world. Curiosity wants that kernel of truth along with everything you encounter along the way.

I love synchronicities. I even keep a journal of them. I have at least one entry every day. Some of them make me laugh. Most of them make me think.

We may look to spiritual leaders (or Google) for answers, but meaning only comes from our digging deep, by our staying curious.

Should I read some Chaucer? Or some Greek tragedies? Should I explore women’s role in shaping men’s destinies? Maybe. Or maybe I should stay curious and see what the next synchronicity is and add that to the mix.

What I get out of a string of coincidences and what you discover from the same string will be vastly different.

But when we stay curious and follow the thread all the way to the end, we’ll uncover depths of truth and meaning that can lead us to spiritual growth.

My grandma and her sister, Cecilia, got into a huge fight when their father died and never spoke to each another again. It was a shame for them to hold a grudge for so long and I was sad that I never saw my Aunt Seal again. People have lists of what they want to do or see or accomplish before they die, and I’m always interested to hear what’s on those bucket lists. But let me ask you this: Who do you want to see again before you die? It’s a question that requires some thought. It might be someone who you lost touch with, perhaps your best friend from school. Or your first love. Maybe an old co-worker. Or, like my Aunt Seal, it might be someone who you weren’t allowed to see because of a feud. Maybe a child you let someone else adopt. A sibling who left the family and never returned. Now here’s the question that interests me the most: Why? Why do you want to see those people again? Curiosity? (I’d love to see what my high school boyfriend looks like now.) To make amends, apologize for something you did to hurt them? (I should probably apologize to my dormmate for stealing her boyfriend, but that’s probably best done in a letter so I don’t get a fat lip.) To tell them you still love them? Or because holding a grudge feels like you’re drinking poison hoping they’ll die, and it’s time to put down that vial of venom? Maybe there are people you’d like to see without them seeing you. Of course, there are people who you never want to see again. People who are abusive or bring excessive drama to your life. Some people make us feel bad. Others we outgrow. And, despite how contradictory it feels, we can want nothing to do with them and yet wonder. This week, give those two questions some thought. Who would you like to see again before you die and why? Your answers might surprise you. And remember, we never know when we (or they) will die. You might want to find whoever it is while you still have the chance.

My sister and I recently took our mother out for tea at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee to celebrate her birthday. I’m not sure how we got on the subject, but my mother said that no matter who you ask, everyone has a story about a time a stranger helped them when they needed it.

I thought about all the times that has happened to me.

Like the time I was in line at the credit union. This was back before ATMs were everywhere and you had to wait in line to deposit or withdraw money. I suddenly felt faint and wasn’t sure what to do. I turned to the woman behind me and told her I was about to pass out. “Don’t worry,” she told me. “I’ll save your place in line.” (I am not kidding.)

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, and someone was trying to get me to have a sip from a can of Coke. All I could think was how much I hated Coke and I wondered why it was so important to her. She thought I was in a diabetic coma and wondered why I was refusing to drink it.

Let me tell you, that’s the fastest way to get to the head of a long line! A teller processed my transaction while I sat in a chair someone had brought over. Then the woman trying to force the cola on me kindly drove me home.

How about you? When was the time when someone was an angel in disguise for you I’ll bet you have more than one story. I know I do.

Likewise, there are times when you helped someone without giving it a second thought, a time when you were an angel in disguise.

I do believe there are actual angels who appear when we need help. But there are also times when Spirit puts us right where we’re needed most, a time when we’re the angel.

When you think about it, it’s truly beautiful.

What’s your story? Hit reply and tell me about it.

Years ago, my husband and I were on a cruise with his coworkers. All of them. And their families.

Being an introvert, I tried to find quiet places away from everyone else. Why didn’t I simply sit on the balcony outside our cabin?

Because I was afraid I’d jump off.

I wasn’t depressed or suicidal. Still, the ocean’s depths called me.

It turns out most people feel this way when faced with the edge of a cliff or a ship’s balcony. There’s even a name for it, the call of the void. Existential philosophers like Søren Kierkegaard and Jean-Paul Sartre used the term the vertigo of possibility to describe the anxiety that arises when we become aware of our freedom and the endless possibilities before us. My mind was blown (like most people’s) when I realized at that moment, I had the freedom to live or die.

I didn’t know this was common until I read Liane Moriarty’s Here One Moment (it’s a rather good book, by the way). I thought if I mentioned my fear to anyone, they’d think I was crazy. Or keep a constant eye on me. Or suggest in-patient psychiatric treatment.

What is one of your biggest insecurities? What experience do you tell very few, if any, people because you worry about how they’ll react?

Now, imagine you tell someone you hold in high regard. Imagine they react in a way that makes you feel seen and understood instead of judged. Imagine your fear is met instead with acceptance and validation rather than rejection or derision.

We can’t change how others react to us, unfortunately. But we can change our reaction to others.

If we like, we can make acceptance and validation our superpower.

You. Are. Magic.

You matter. You have had an impact on people. There are the obvious examples—your friends, your children (if you have any), your siblings (again, if you have any), coworkers. Probably neighbors. Maybe strangers.

But you have also touched the lives of people you’ve never met.

When I get there, she’s got intertwining candles… My husband was singing Rick James’s “Super Freak” the other day.

Intertwining candles? Learn the words! I yelled at him from across the house.

Learn the words is something we’ve been saying to each other for almost thirty years. He and an ex-girlfriend used to say it because the ex’s friend’s fiancé yelled it at her once when she sang some mangled lyric. I never met the ex, let alone her friend or the friend’s fiancé. And yet learn the words is a part of our daily lives.

I have a handkerchief from the father of the concierge of the small hotel I stayed at in Istanbul. My father gave me a piano that I’m guessing gave someone joy many years ago—but I have no idea who. I collect crazy things on my walks, like a pair of dice, an angel-wing pendant, a business card for someone named Jim May who bills himself as a storyteller. All these people who have touched my life and who have no idea.

Maybe someone makes your mincemeat pie recipe. Or uses your birthday as their PIN because you were best friends in grade school. Or an ex still has a shirt you left at his house.

Our lives are made up of so many people and their significance can live on long after they leave.

And in the same way, it’s a comfort to know that there are so many lives you’re still a part of that you have no idea about.

It’s a comfort to know that you matter. And the fact that you matter is in no small way a part of your magic.

So, there I was, driving through a beautiful spring morning, fuming over something my practice husband said over thirty years ago. I shook my head to clear it and tried to backtrack over my thoughts to see how I had ended up replaying that particular movie.

The fact is, our brains are playing movies all day, every day. Back when we were cave people, these simulations (as they’re called in scientific circles) were beneficial. They kept us alive. But now? We don’t need to vividly remember what happened to Dratzog when he got too close to that big thing with the tusks.

Simulations pull us out of the present. There we are, sitting through a presentation at work or running errands, and suddenly we’re a thousand miles (or thirty years) away, caught up in a mini movie.

We can only find happiness, love and fulfillment in the present, and being miles and years away keeps us out of the present.

Similarly, we can do this for future events. If I say X, of course she’ll say Y. That’s just like her. I can’t stand that. Or her, for that matter. It hasn’t even happened yet and we’re already incensed. Most of the scenarios we envision never happen. And if they do, they’re rarely as painful as we imagined.

Unfortunately, the more often we allow these mini movies to play, the stronger the neural associations between an event and its painful associations become. This brings us pain in the present when we could enjoy whatever pleasant things are actually happening.

One way to pull yourself back to the present is to remind yourself that in this moment, everything is perfect (or wonderful, or fine). It’s an affirmation I use frequently. The more I use it, the more I see the truth of it. In this moment, everything is perfect.

If your brain rejects that affirmation, try this one: Everything is unfolding beautifully.

Stay present. Because in this moment, everything is perfect and everything is unfolding beautifully. 

Last week, I promised to show you how to create your own sigil (find last week’s post on sigils here).

What’s a sigil? It’s a magical symbol used for attraction, manifestation, or protection. It’s a way to bypass your logical brain and get to the mystical.

First, decide what you want to attract or manifest and write it down. Use positive verbs in the present tense. So, I am deeply loved rather than I don’t want to be alone. Avoid using want because you might create more wanting instead of the thing you want. Be as concise and specific as possible.

Now it’s time to decide how artistic you’re going to be. If you’re feeling creative, use some symbols to represent what you want: a heart for love, a diamond for wealth, an arrow for forward motion, a sun for happiness… you get the picture.

Above is an example of a sigil for good luck. Can you spot the symbols used and what they mean? If not, that’s ok. This is supposed to be highly personal.
If you’re not feeling artistic, look at the phrase or sentence you wrote for what you want. Cross out the vowels and any repeating letters. Now, arrange the letters into a unique pattern.

Here’s an example. What I’d like to manifest is health, so my sentence is

            I AM HEALTHY

Taking out the vowels and repeating letters, I’m left with

            H L T Y M

I arranged them like this

And then added some flair with dots, lines, crescents, and a star.

Keep your sigil where you can see it. Or draw it on your body with scented oil. Or carve it into a candle with a pin and let the candle burn out (safely, please). Or write it in the sand with a stick and let the waves take it to the Universe. Write it in chalk and let the rain carry it away. Do whatever feels right for getting your intention out where it can become reality.

If you could be any animal, what would it be? A bright cardinal gliding on the breeze? A dolphin collaborating with its pod mates? An elephant breaking down barriers?

Some days, I’d rather be an animal because their nervous systems aren’t complex enough to allow worries to become distress.

I’m reading Buddha’s Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love & Wisdom by Rick Hanson. In it, he says,

“…our vastly more developed brain is fertile ground for a harvest of suffering. Only we humans worry about the future, regret the past, and blame ourselves for the present. We get frustrated when we can’t have what we want, and disappointed when we what we like ends. We suffer that we suffer. We get upset about being in pain, angry about dying, sad about waking up sad yet another day.”

The author talks about mindfulness, that skillful use of attention to both our inner and outer worlds.

He also talks about wisdom, which is applied common sense. In other words, understanding what hurts us and what helps us. And once we understand that, we let go of what hurts and do more of what helps.

As a result, over time, we feel more connected with everything. We’re more serene about how things change and eventually end. We can meet pleasure and pain without grasping at one and struggling with the other.

Kate Bast (who I recently did the Alpha Female retreat with) and I will be offering four workshops at Three Waters Reserve to help with mindfulness, wisdom, and connection. The first is happening on May 24^th, 10:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.

It’s called Let It Go: The Art of Finding Physical, Emotional, and Spiritual Space. Just as a garden grows lushly when it has room to spread out, so do our psyches. By decluttering and getting rid of objects, memories, and limiting beliefs that no longer serve us, we can expand and grow.

We will explore journaling techniques and energy clearing indoors before we head out to experience the benefits of forest bathing (click here for more information on forest bathing).

Mark your calendar. I’ll let you know when registration opens.

And P.S. I’d choose to be a seal. They’re so playful and always look like they’re having a blast.