Allensbach, Germany

If you have lost your sense of wonder, take a deep breath, close your eyes and remember the last time you had it. You might have to dig deeply to a place you haven’t visited in a while. It might span miles and years and acres of memory. But you had it once. It is still there,  slumbering in the eeves of your being.

Call it up within yourself. Rekindle its fire. Feel how it crawls through your body. Where do you feel it most intensely? In your arms? Your legs? Your back?

I keep my sense of wonder close to my heart, calling on it in times of sadness or remorse. It is my road map to inner peace and regained equilibrium. In troubled times, that source of creative power can be your saving grace.

When was the last time you danced in the sky to beat of your boundless heart? Don’t you want to go there?

And you can. Any time. Any place. Through the breathtaking beauty you keep inside. When you do, you will meet others who are doing the same. Your heart and soul will shift to attract the very people who have been waiting for this moment. You will touch them in unspeakable ways. And they will do the same for you.

When you regain that sense of wonder, your life becomes one big celebration of the divine that is you, that is me, that is everyone.

Blessings to you all.

Life is not a plan. It’s a journey.

This is something my mom knows well. So it was fitting that, as we journeyed NYC-bound on the Acela Express, we would soon learn not only people can travel, but things can, too.

You see my mom lives in the belief that life is a God trip; God only knows where you’ll end up. As we zipped up the East Coast toward Manhattan, I helped her set up her blog, aptly named Life is a God Trip to celebrate her philosophy in an online space. Snapping a photo of her, I wanted to capture her joy. But little did I know that that photo would be the key to the camera itself.

We got settled in our hotel room, had a nice meal and retired early as we knew the next day would be long. Up at dawn, we breakfasted, then took a taxi to the harbor for a boat tour of Lower Manhattan. It was then that I realized my beloved camera, the holder of so many memories during my mammoth five-state five-week trip, was gone.

I should have known the camera had its own ideas. It had slipped from my lap and into my bag on the train. Little did I know it was practicing its escape!

Later that day, I half-heartedly asked the hotel security if they had seen the camera. They had not. Saddened, but steeped in my God trip knowledge, I sensed the camera had decided to take its own journey.

And so it had.

Yesterday a woman left a comment on my mom’s blog, explaining she lived in Venezuela and that her mother had found a hot pink camera in a NYC taxi. She scanned the pictures to find a clue as to the owner’s identity. That’s when she came upon my mom’s photo of joy in front of her newly birthed blog. She must have read the URL, then matched her picture to the one on the camera. She was writing to ask for the address so that she may return it on her trip to Florida, where my own God trip in April began.

No, my friends. Life is not a plan. It is indeed a journey, one of joy and grace and miracles.

For this I am forever grateful. Thank you, Alexandra, of Venezuela. Your kindness will live on in all that I do.

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