A spoonful of spiritual sugar

Hi bloggity friends!
This has been a very interesting and trying week for many of us out here on the ol' ROA tour.  Strange things are afoot in Cincinnati, and we can all feel it.  We've had phantom fleeting injuries, silly onstage snafus (slipping, tripping, and dropping things), and even a tornado warning.  Not to mention, the eight women in the cast are slowly being pulled to the same cycle, and this week has many of us howling at the moon, just in time for Halloween.   Our hotel has been taken over by hundreds- I mean HUNDREDS- of card carrying members of the Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers, who fisheye our black-and-fuschia colored nails in fascination in the elevator (One guy actually said, "You're in ROCK OF AGES, aren't you?").    Audiences are cheering unusually loud and long for the "Reagan Era" joke.  We don't know what's happening. 

For me, this has been a strange week in which I have had a difficult time maintaining perspective.  Due to unforseen circumstances, My swing costumes have not yet arrived from the NYC costume shop, and my onstage debut as Young Groupie is now almost a week overdue as a result.   I am clearly very eager to get onstage for many reasons, but I have spent way too much energy this week in my head: complaining, stomping my feet, sighing audibly, and trying to assign blame.  It is exhausting, and incredibly unflattering.

Being away from home and my network of spiritual peeps makes it easy for me to lapse on my spiritual practice.  Oneness, meditation, manifesting, etc.  This morning, however, while killing time before my massage appointment, I came across a recent entry in my favorite blog, Oneness In The City, penned by one of my besties, a sassy, savvy, goddess who I regard so highly that Brian and I asked her to perform our marriage ceremony (which she did, and beautifully).  Her entry, smartly entitled "the bitch of bliss," woke me up like a venti redeye.  Her entry made me feel many things about how I've been thinking and acting- childish, spoiled, and temporarily checked out.  But it also made me feel a LOT better.  It brought me back to "reality" (what is that, anyway) and reminded me that it's all good.  We are tested occasionally and how we deal is everything.  I want to be like her.  I want to float above the drama and know in my heart that things work out.  So this is what I choose.

The truth of the matter is, and the part that I so easily forget, is that it is all unfolding in its perfect time. I will get onstage.  This is not life or death. It's just a rock musical. All of these seeming setbacks are just tiny little bumps in the road of (tour) life.  I don't perform open heart surgery, and no one is going to die if I don't don my blonde wig and swing on a pole tonight. It's all good. For realz. 

So I'm off to my massage.  2 hours ago I was afraid I wouldn't be able to relax, as I'm expecting a call to let me know if my costumes arrive.  Now, the phone is going off, I'm not going to worry about it, and my only thoughts will be of the present.  What a present.  Thanks Mags.