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“Confidence doesn’t come from believing nothing will
go wrong, it comes from knowing what you’ll do when it does.”--Arnold
Schwarzenegger Well Arnold, that gives me fuel for thought.
It rather flies in the face of the belief that
thoughts create, doesn’t it?
Yet it enters the human condition into
the equation. And think of it this way, if thoughts attract or create as some say, enter Confidence into the act. We
can’t think of everything, and some events come
unexpectedly. There are happenings we see but don’t want, events that
surprise us, pipes break, people get sick, loved ones die. We can’t
anticipate it all. Yet according to Schwarzenegger’s idea, when if we
can develop the Confidence that we can handle it, we have security.
A wise thought.
This comes at an important time for me, for last
night my husband informed me that he got a call from the hospital that we owe
a humongous bill. He had an operation quite a few months ago, and I had an
altercation that put me in the hospital.
Months went by—no bill.
I thought the Health Insurance had handled it.
Only part of it.
“Life happens while you are making other
plans.”
Welcome to 2026:
I also mentioned in the last blog, which was less
than a week ago, and still in the year 2025, that I ended my long
procrastination about taking my Real Estate Continuing Education course and
began it.
After bolstering myself up to take that 30-hour
course. Today, I found that the four hours I had put into it had evaporated.
The 2025 course is obsolete. I must take
the new revised 2026 course.
I wanted to cry.
I do get my fee transferred to the new course, though.
Ah ha! I see their issue. It’s the
new Timeshare Bill. The new course hit us right out of
the gate with the notice that starting January 1, 2026, Time-share agents are
limited only to The Promotion of Time-share Interests.
Only the principal broker can quote
prices, provide advice, and draft contracts. Basically, timeshare agents (a
14-hour study) must concentrate on schmoozing customers.
More than you wanted to know?
But maybe I saved you from an unscrupulous timeshare
salesperson for now you know the rules. But what about their present honest agents?
Their duties were diminished, and they must take a course. That must come as
a shock.
I’m over wanting to cry.
I only spent 4 hours on the previous course. What if
I had reached 29 hours and all my data went away? Now that would be a reason
to cry.
There must be something in my future I need to say
about Real Estate, for here I am studying a course, but not selling houses.
The Book:
Also, in the last blog, I mentioned that I have been
editing a book I wrote ages ago. Now I figure it is time to clean it up and
do something with it.
Ages ago, I was interested in Cosmology, that is,
the origin of things, and much involved mythology. I took notes, then
wondered what to do with them.
Well, of course, put them into a novel.
Sixty-five thousand words later, Children of
the Sun was born.
Here is an excerpt:
11,500
YEARS BEFORE PRESENT
1
On a day warm as kitten’s breath, I sat on the
temple wall and stared down into the streets of Anu', watching a thin line of
students—minuscule as spiders from my perspective—waiting to be admitted into
the temple. "Grandmother," I asked, "what do students learn in
the temple?"
"Guess it's time you knew," she said,
putting aside the flowers she was hanging to dry, and began to walk with long
strides across the courtyard.
"Come,"
she said, looking back, motioning for me to come. I was
dumbfounded, for I had often asked why students came to the temple, only to
receive quick answers, "To learn about the great creative force,"
she would say. "How to create their destiny. How to heal." This time, she
was ready to show me. I jumped off the wall and ran to follow her. We strode down a
long corridor open to the sky, across a brick-paved grotto, and through an
arched passageway. Already, I had waited years to learn what the initiatives
knew. I expected to see students going to class. Perhaps I would see a ritual
or hear a lecture from a learned hierophant. As we walked, I let my mind
wander back over the past three years—how I had stopped going to the hills
after the attack in the marketplace. And how, in that self-imposed captivity,
a loneliness was born. Childhood play no longer attracted me. Deep thought
did. It has been many
moons since the day grandmother released me from the temple to the hills
beyond. That day I
bounded out of bed, pulled off my night garment, and jumped naked into the
fountain. I figured this day would be like most others: one of study and
play, meditation and exploration. However, sitting in the water, watching
Grandmother unfold a crudely woven brown cloth, I asked, "What is it,
Grandmother?" She smiled and
held out my towel, a soft linen one, brushed to a downy finish, and I stepped
from the fountain and rolled into the towel. After I dried,
she handed me the brown cloth. “Put this on,” she said.
Strange. This
was not my usual robe. It was not linen. It was coarse wool, crudely woven.
"What does this mean?” I asked, pushing my arms into the sleeves. Grandmother
smiled as she tied a belt around her waist and pulled out folds of her robe,
a twin of mine, to make pockets. "We're going to the hills," she
said. "It's time for you to see what lies beyond these walls.” “Grandmother!
Today?” She smiled.
“Yes, Love, today.” After all these
years, I had come to the conclusion that my life would be forever confined to
the temple. Grandmother and I were oddities, having escaped the motherland on
the day it sank. Grandmother's knowledge was guarded, too, her being a
physician and a keeper of the sacred word. Yet, I knew others held the
mysteries, the hierophants of the temple, for example, those who guarded
their knowledge with their lives, giving it only to those willing and
courageous enough to undergo the initiations. I watched as a
dog watches its master, my heart pounding, anxious. Had I been a dog, I might
have catapulted myself into the air, a mass of wiggles, but I sat quietly and
watched as Grandmother pulled the familiar golden cord laced with lapis
lazuli from her hair. "Most
people outside the temple wear robes such as these,” she said as hair, black
as a moonless night, tumbled to her shoulders. "Wear these too.” She
held out a pair of sandals. ---
End
of excerpt.
P.S. As the
young man, Ma’at, underwent the trials to become an initiate, Alli, through a
psychic connection was him. She experienced what he learned, became lost in
the labyrinth as he did, experienced the tunnels, the aqueduct, and found a
puppy snarled in the threads of an old tapestry, the same as he. Both decided independently
that they were become a priest and a priestess. And then they
met. A connection, a love
story, and a journey. With the help of
the pilot of their ship, an engineer and a navigator, Alli and Ma’at set off
on a dangerous, enlightening journey to find the motherland again.
In the last blog I issued a Woo Woo 💥💥💥Warning.
So, here is a comment from Ernest
Holmes: “Nature attends and is always ready to serve.” Nothing is forced upon
the individual. And, when you believe the Universal Creative process believes
with you, that way, your belief will demonstrate itself in a tangible form as
changed conditions.
May your new year indeed be a NEW one filled with the stuff dreams
are made of.
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