The Universal Flow

From my Morning Pages:

by Nancy Colasurdo on March 5, 2013

Love. Light. Come in. Sit down. Shine. I’ll bask. Just bask. And bask some more.


Musings from my morning

by Nancy Colasurdo on September 11, 2011

Ten years. A decade.

At 8:30 this morning I go to the Hudson River a block from my Hoboken home, heading for Pier A Park, which juts out in the water and makes you feel like you can touch downtown Manhattan. I am greeted by barricades at the entrance of the park.

Must be the danged NFL, which is broadcasting from there later. That decision had to have been made with safety and efficiency in mind because it was completely lacking in common sense from an emotional standpoint. Geography, proximity. They’re important. The connection felt from Pier A to downtown is palpable. Shut out on this day.

I shift uneasily for a moment, coffee in hand, and think of all those who are accustomed to going there for solace and connection. Like a tradition. Poof. Not today.

I shuffle to a bench along the promenade. On one side, a man weeps into a woman’s lap. On the other, a homeless woman with her possessions piled high in her cart just stares. I sit and stare, too. I linger.

And then our new park, Pier C, beckons. The laughter of children hits me as I approach, as there is a playground on the side that faces land. The river side is quiet. People are scattered, some with dogs and strollers. I marvel at how dogs sense the mood and relax into their owners. Most are staring at downtown Manhattan.

The Freedom Tower is starting to emerge into the skyline now. For a moment I take note that all the people sitting around me in quiet reflection are strangers that I feel connected to, much like that day. I don’t know how they vote and I don’t give a shit.

One woman and her exuberant little boy stop when I wave to him and smile. She says she didn’t expect to be affected this way this year. I say, “Me neither.”

I am purposely sitting in what feels like a direct line from the sun to its reflection on the river. Bring me your light. The hell that was happening on that island 10 years ago comes in flashes, but mostly I am thinking about what has changed. Every damn thing in my life that has changed has been for the better, whether it felt that way at first or not. Growth has been steady, even facilitated, and I am acutely aware of everything.

Amidst it all, four tourists from Texas — three clad in Dallas Cowboys jerseys — pose for pictures on the pier. They’re loud and it’s marked because no one else is speaking. Strikes me as theatre. They are carrying loaded Carlo’s Bakery bags. Posing with the Empire State Building in the background, then with Lower Manhattan. I keep wondering if they get it and don’t care or just don’t get it. And then I think about the “move on” theme of Charles Evered’s play, Ten, and I take them more in stride.

We are all doing what we feel. It’s that simple.

Somewhere in the background I hear “Taps.” I wonder if the sound is from across the river where two presidents of the United States are or if it is from somewhere in Hoboken.

No matter. It’s 10 years later. We’ve survived to talk about it, build on it and we’ve forged on in spite of it.

OK then.

I walk to the grocery store and they have five boxes of Barilla whole wheat pasta for $5 and it makes me happy. The cashier gives me a little American flag on my way out.

OK then.



by Nancy Colasurdo on September 10, 2011

Instead of fending [pain] off and hiding from it, we could open our hearts and allow ourselves to feel that pain, feel it as something that will soften and purify us and make us far more loving and kind.
–Pema Chodron from When Things Fall Apart



by Nancy Colasurdo on September 6, 2011

I left my home in Hoboken, N.J. on August 26. The idea was to spend a night at my parents’ home and then head to the Jersey Shore for our annual family beach vacation through Labor Day.

What actually happened was Hurricane Irene warnings that prompted the mayor of Hoboken to evacuate first-floor apartments because of the severe flooding probability. Since I was already leaving Hoboken, that was a no-brainer. I actually had a place to go — a beach house.

But lo and behold, the town of Lavallette was also evacuated by order of the governor with the rest of the Jersey Shore so I wound up spending the weekend at my parents’ retirement community in Central Jersey.

Here’s what transpired during and after the storm. Their community had no power outage, no flooding, almost no damage while those just a few miles away were without power. In Hoboken, my building incurred no damage while those just blocks away were flooded and some had no power. And to boot, our rented beach house was in a town that had only big puddles and some sand on the boardwalk to show for its encounter with Irene. We moved in the day after the storm and enjoyed glorious weather right through Labor Day. Meanwhile, the pictures on the news of the storm’s wrath were unbearable.

I feel like I dodged three bullets. So blessed to have come away from such a vicious storm relatively unscathed.

So blessed.


Dream on

by Nancy Colasurdo on August 22, 2011

Had a vivid dream last night that I was in a restaurant bar (I think) socializing and decided to leave my handbag on a bench next to a guy who looked trustworthy. I happily mingled. When I went back to retrieve my purse, the guy smiled and we said hello. I put the bag on my arm and started to leave.

When I went into the front pocket for my phone, it had been replaced by an older phone that wasn’t even working. I went back and asked what happened to my phone, but the guy just shrugged. There was no resolution before I woke up.

Oddly enough, I know exactly what this dream is telling me (as opposed to almost every other dream I have): Open your eyes fully, sister. Trust, but maybe not so blindly. Lift up those rose-colored glasses every so often and stare things down straight on.

Yep. Dreamy.


You talkin’ to me?

by Nancy Colasurdo on August 18, 2011

Can’t help but notice in a week where I’ve been caught up in doing and determinedly making things happen that I’m getting little messages to remind me to chill and let some things unfold naturally.

While there are tons of people benefitting from the sweet wisdom of each day, it still rocks me on a personal level sometimes. Perhaps it’s those days when I’m feeling most “awake” and attentive. The last two days went like this:

The world is filled with many colorful characters, Nancy, one or many of whom would be absolutely thrilled to play along in any drama you’d care to create – romantically, socially, financially, comically – any.

You just have to let me do the casting – have to.

Truly thrilled,
The Universe

You decide what you want, Nancy, physically move in its direction and I’ll “send in the clowns.”

AND this:

The questions you have to answer, Nancy, pertain to what, where, when, and why.

Mine pertain to how and with whom.

The Universe

When you know the end result, Nancy, I always know the fastest way.

In addition, my reading from Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening this morning put in its two cents:

Perhaps the greatest challenge, once fully awake, is to drop all reaching and simply open like a clam waiting in the deep until life in all its guises floods through the half-closed center that is us. Then God enters us like a brilliant stone falling in a lake, and the past ripples behind us, and the future ripples before us, and we are breathing in eternity.

And in a moment of levity, there was this Tweet this morning from an account my friend turned me on to. It’s called @LifeCoachers and it’s a, shall we say, sarcastic take on the profession. Try to convince me it wasn’t written for me today:

Here’s hoping you’re someday man enough to turn that grapefruit into a western omelet, Nancy.

How about right now? ;)


Oh, that Universe

by Nancy Colasurdo on August 8, 2011

Today’s message delivered to my mailbox from The Universe a.k.a.

Never regret love, Nancy. No matter how blind, it improved your world view. No matter how foolish, it made you wiser. And no matter how generous, it made you more.

Hubba, hubba,
The Universe



by Nancy Colasurdo on August 7, 2011



by Nancy Colasurdo on August 2, 2011

Two quotes from my reading in The Lessons of St. Francis by John Michael Talbot spoke to me today. Both are inserted into the text by the author, but are attributed to others:

I’ve realized it’s possible to fall into the trap of thinking a life of carefully limited emotions, a life without emotional highs and lows, is a life that pleases God most. But that often results in a tragic loss of vigor in individuals and in the family of God. Too many people spend too much time in the emotional land of bland.
–Bill Hybels

Jesus said not: thou shalt no be troubled, thou shalt not be tempted, thou shalt not be distressed. But he said: thou shalt not be overcome.
–Julian of Norwich



by Nancy Colasurdo on August 1, 2011

According to A Course in Miracles, relationships are “assignments,” in which people are brought together for maximal and mutual growth opportunity. Our relationships can be trips to heaven or trips to hell, depending on how we ourselves choose to interact with another person. Knowing the principles of loving relationship— recognizing the spiritual lessons afforded us by each encounter — gives us skill and even mastery at this basic human experience … It is through relationships that we either rise to our most creative possibilities in life, or fall into the patterns of fear that would consistently hold us back.
–Marianne Williamson