How to Grow New Feet

"My feet are killing me!" "I'm dead on my feet." "Have you got cold feet?" "Don't drag your feet!" "Are you back on your feet?"

We bipeds depend on our locomotive appendages a LOT. So it's only natural that our feet might get weary from all the wear and tear and decide to take a vacation. Not our actual physical feet, perhaps, but the ones belonging to our digital appendages. Such as my laptop.

After replacing the little hard plastic "feet" that keep the machine positioned just slightly off the desk, allowing airflow, I soon noticed that all but one had again gone AWOL. I assumed they were gone forever, like one half of a pair of socks after a wash cycle. But while mischievous socks seem to time travel, never to return, laptop feet apparently visit an alternate universe for a while and then magically reappear.

It might be akin to what happens at puberty: kids have a growth spurt and "grow a foot" seemingly overnight. But even the most ambitious teen has yet to grow three feet in a matter of weeks. That's what my tiny plastic computer feet did.

After at least a year, they began reappearing on the carpet — where they absolutely had not resided before. I don't have pets or children; no one else could have moved them or replaced them. Yet here they were, one by one over the course of several weeks, mutely calling, "I'm home!" (None of them sported a tan or souvenirs, so I can't verify where they'd been.)

I'm waiting to see whether the fourth will arrive, though I'm delighted to welcome the trio home. I discovered each returning foot accidentally, either by stepping on it, thinking I'd tracked in a pebble, or noticing what I thought was a chocolate chip. Amazing and amusing, because of course I was completely unattached to something as negligible as laptop feet. Yet here they are.

It's easy to manifest what we have no attachment to in our lives. I've proven this in my own life time and again with items similar to laptop feet, which can appear as soon as we envision the request. Yet this complete faith that the universe is always answering is the great challenge most of us are still aiming to master — myself included. We believe the grander requests will take a long(er) time to show up, so they usually do.

This is a fulcrum moment to grow new feet — or kilometers, if you choose — so we can leap into parallel realities and timelines and return with alacrity. Stand up for the true magnificent YOU. That's the feat we can all grow into, now.

What To Do When You're Dying Inside

The operating system on my older Mac suddenly quit on Tuesday. Over the next few days it quit about 20 times, and I watched myself freeze in anxiety each time the screen overwrote my work with a message saying I needed to retart my computer. My browsers, Mail program and Word all took turns capriciously joining in the fun. One browser even sent me to a PayPal site in South Africa! I wondered if I had a virus (Macs are much less prone to them than PCs). This morning I was waiting at the door when my tech opened for business, hoping he could reinstall the OS and that would resolve the issue.

With practiced fingers he explored Mac's settings and said, "I think your hard drive is failing; that happens on computers that are about this age. I can replace it with a refurbished hard drive that will be like a mirror image of your existing drive." He wrote up the work order, I left my machine and went home to rest. Immediately the metaphor for now clarified:

Our operating system ~ the old way of being in the world ~ is failing. But simply reinstalling it won't solve the problem, because the real issue is larger than that: the entire hard drive (culture) needs an overhaul. We can replace what now exists with a "mirror image": we look in the mirror, reverse who and how we've been, and with refurbished awareness, can continue in the same "body" ~ we needn't actually die, but undergo a symbolic death/rebirth. Caroline Casey refers to this as "the ongoing death and resurrection show."

Much more in-depth info on this and related aspects of our creative evolutionary quest in the July What Shines, out next week (when I have my refurbished laptop back!).

The Motherboard of Invention, or "That's Not Logical, Captain!"

My laptop underwent a crucifixion and resurrection this past holiday season. Since technology often serves as metaphor and muse in my life, I knew this would be another fabulous learning opportunity…

On December 30th, my nearly 6-year-old machine (computers being like dog years, I know this is nearing old age), which had intermittent problems with the charging system as well as the screen suddenly going black, decided it was time for a long winter's rest.


Having worked perfectly the day before, it wouldn't hold a charge at all that Friday, and as my battery slowly drained to zero, I wondered how I would upload my January newsletter. I was on the phone with a friend who's a hardware engineer, describing the problem, and said with conviction, "I just need two more hours to get the newsletter uploaded!" This has been my most enduring commitment to the collective for the past decade; it was more distressing to me not to be able to get the newsletter out (especially for January 2012, the beginning of the year that's been the subject of so much prophecy and paranoia!) than not having a functioning laptop.

I showered, ate breakfast, and decided to go for a walk. December 31st was an absolutely stunning day, and I was housesitting out in the country. Before I left, I put my hand over the power cord's charge box from habit; it had been cool for over a day, despite the little orange charge light being on. Now the box was warm. I got tingles all over, and went out for a long walk.

When I returned 90 minutes later, the little light that signals charge completion was green. I opened the lid extremely cautiously so as not to activate whatever was causing the machine to suddenly turn itself off. Several techs I'd spoken with casually in recent months had said sagely, "It's the Motherboard!" (The principal circuit board that pilots the machine.) And when that goes, it's bye-bye laptop.

Sure enough, the battery charge read 100%. Joyfully, I left it plugged in and began feverishly uploading the newsletter. I sent it out, and started to check email. Just about two hours had gone by. Still plugged in, the charging light now turned orange and began to drop: 99%, 98%, 97%...

I received the two hours I asked for in order to complete my task. Whenever I've stepped out in high faith, I am answered. A wise man once taught that we are all capable of this kind of trust walk, and that when we live from here, manifestation is instantaneous. It's happened three or four times in my life, so I know the power. Consistency is the rub.

On January 2nd, I took the now non-functional laptop to a Mac tech who'd been recommended; he's been repairing Mac computers for a living for many years. The power jack issue was obvious. In terms of the intermittent shutdown, my machine obligingly did so as soon as he opened the case. Not worth repairing, he reported. It would be too expensive; buy a new one, or a refurb. Since even a refurbished Mac is quite a bit pricier than a PC, I despaired.

The first week of 2012 was not a joyous affair. I wondered if this portended what the year would be like.

But after the crucifixion comes the resurrection. Note that the first term is pronounced, cruci-FICTION.

I'd also discovered that the back-up hard drive I'd thought contained all my data, did not. That's when something approaching panic set in. I had the brainstorm to contact the Computer Recycling Center (CRC), which repairs donated machines, then sells them for an affordable price. I got my first laptop there in 2003, and it was still going strong when I upgraded to a new one three years later.


I wondered if I might borrow a compatible battery in order to give my machine enough juice to back-up my data to the external hard drive. Their Mac tech said, "Sure, come on in." When I arrived and explained the problem, he harrumphed, "I don't see any evidence of a Logicboard problem." (On Macs, Motherboards are known as Logicboards). To me, he sounded just like Spock: "It is not logical, Captain." I explained how the issue was intermittent, but he maintained that the burned out power jack was causing the electrical signal to "arc," creating the outage. It made sense, and was similar to what the professional I'd seen on Monday had told me. The difference was, Derrick didn't think the Logicboard was bad. I left the machine with him for diagnosis, since it wasn't useable until the power jack was replaced.

The next day my phone rang. "Your computer is ready," said the wise young voice at the other end. Derrick resurrected my laptop for a third of the cost I was originally quoted — just for the power jack, not the Logicboard — and I have been good to go ever since.

In this era of intuition, logic was neither the problem nor the solution — but it certainly was the Motherboard of Invention when it came to looking for the "second right answer" — or the third, or the 29th.

The gifts from this episode are many, and continue to unfold. Since all of my work is virtual, I have about 15 years of material on my hard drive; I've often said, of how precious my laptop is to me, "It's my life!" But that's not true; my life is in me; my laptop plays an important role in assisting my planetary service, but the stress I put myself through last week wasn't worth the cost to my body/mind/spirit. In fact, once I had the laptop back in fine fettle, I checked in and could hear Spirit laughing, "OK? Lighten up now!"

As Louise Hay, one of my great teachers, has often affirmed: "All is well. Everything is working out for my highest good. Out of this situation, only good will come. I am safe."

And as Bryan de Flores shared during his annual New Year's Eve telecall: when we have a challenge, say "God Blast!" and watch it dissolve.

God Blast! Yee-hah! All is well!

Happy Knew Year, Beloveds!