Even our vacuum cleaner is showing signs of depression, lately. As I move it around the first floor, the balls of bunched-up dog hair become stuck in the hose and the vacuum’s breathing is slower and “wheezier.” The fifties renovated vacuum doesn’t want to move and I need to coax it; as a renovated fifties girly, I can relate.

At the post office, ever notice how the government employees work as though they are moving through molasses? Usually it’s mostly when I am there, standing at the rear of a block-long line. In the Course in Miracles, the book reads, “Choose again.” So instead of letting my blood pressure shoot toward the heavens, I choose again, breathe and am able to smile at the clerk when I finally am helped so that she says to me, “Thank you for being so patient.” Yet really I am not and being an Aries, I tell her so. “What makes you think I am patient?” She alludes to my smile at her and it makes me glad that my popping veins don’t give me away. Of course, my words always do, to most strangers’ chagrin.

Life is challenging.

In the car, I suspect electrical issues because every time the passenger side hits any bumps in the road, my tunes mute themselves. So here’s mwah: actually aiming for the potholes, so that I can hear my music, again. So what if it ruins my wheels, at least I have music. Life is too short.

Yet sometimes it doesn’t feel so short, in fact it feels deep and dirty and I find myself gripping the car wheel like the kiddie ride, when I was just a child. Back then, at the tender age of five, I thought that if I didn’t steer it perfectly (think: death grip), it would ride right off the track; I took this very seriously. My mother laughed as she related the story to her friends. Lately I’ve loosened my fingers because if I’m meant to be killed, I’ll die and that’ll be the end of my story. Life isn’t meant to be taken that seriously, for goddsakes—it’s meant to be playful and joyful. Only lately I’m feeling glum and full of fear. (When will this feeling of fear end? I long to mostly see clear, sparkling sunny skies—at least metaphorically speaking—and I wait for the wisdom, the deep understanding, the epiphanies outweighing the fathomless black holes.)

At one point life becomes clearer: if I am slowly yet consistently able to organize my office desk, to look at my paper piles including inside my tiny purse, to get rid of what is not working and only to keep what is; then not only will life seem simpler, my vision will be seen with clarity and everything will flow. Creating continual movement around us is like breathing: in, out, in, out. Our bodies are constantly moving, so why not the surrounding air?

I have clients that I dog/housesit for. Every time I go to their home, things have been moved, furniture rearranged. The air and energy in their home entices me, makes me want to return and I feel as if it’s my home away from home. And it hits me, that the reason it feels so good is because movement is their thing (they are also avid travelers, which is why I end up staying there so often) and they don’t let the air become stagnant. The air is always dancing with molecules. And isn’t that what life is all about?

And I remember that dancing is my life’s love—more than anything else on earth. I am here to dance—to be playful in my movements and to teach others to let go in their own dance of life. So I dance while I am revering god, dance in my seat while I am driving, celebrate as I grocery shop. Sometimes I dance in the living room, in-between bouts of cleaning. And I realize, that not only will I only keep what works in my life and gladly toss out what doesn’t (including relationships with friends), moving is the key, here. And if I keep moving, continue to glorify life, not just going along half-dead—I will magically see change and choose to see differently. Because there is an element of change in every single moment.

Even my vacuum cleaner begins to breathe easier for I only hear and see its functionality and its working parts. As I promise to change its bag more often, upon overhearing me, my vacuum cleaner puts it all out there and suddenly it is sucking the wind out of our living room rug. Just amaaazing what we can manifest—once again, our vacuum cleaner is movin’, groovin’ and creating a clean home...and I can breathe easier once again, as well. Too simple? Think again. It’s the simple things that are the most profound. And when it comes to our dog-haired wooden floors, I simply prefer them to be clean and the profundity of that leaves me speechless.