I work at a radio syndication company where we produce public affairs programs. We receive many books from publicists for author interviews. Whether they are featured or passed over, we employees can take any books we like home. Six years ago I picked out a book with an intriguing title: The Soul of Money: Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Life, by Lynne Twist. I had never heard of the author, but thought it could be a useful book. I could probably learn a thing or two about investing and such. So I took it home where it sat on the bookshelf for two years.

         Then one day I was looking for a few good beach books for vacation, when I spotted The Soul of Money and figured it was time to give it a try. We usually visit my mom every summer at Dewey Beach in Delaware, so with the Atlantic Ocean before me, I settled into my beach chair and opened the book for the first time.

         I was hooked and in a zone for the next few days. It wasn’t what I had expected at all. Twist tells many wonderful and inspiring stories; her basic message is that there is enough food and enough money in this world for everyone and that the Earth sustains us if we take care of her and one another. It's a matter of choice and committment. When I turned the final page I closed the book and looked out over the ocean knowing the world was a better place because Lynne Twist was in it. I said to myself, “I’m going to meet her someday.”

         I came home from vacation inspired to do good. I raised money for a local women’s shelter, I organized a peace vigil in my hometown, I spent a weekend at a fair trade convention in Chicago talking with and interviewing fair trade manufacturers, producers and organizers.

         I began questioning my career path. I wanted to contribute money to more organizations but didn’t have enough money on my part-time journalist’s salary and free-lance musician's income to do it. So, I thought, why don’t I become a fundraiser like Lynne Twist? That way I can give other people’s money away to all kinds of projects.

         One day I received a marketing e-mail from Lynne Twist for a workshop she was giving in February 2006 in Charleston, South Carolina, called The Soul of Money, Taking a Stand.  At the bottom were two little words, which, for me, felt like a personal invitation: “please come.”

         I gulped and sent in my reservation.        

         Other attendees included fundraisers, financial planners, accountants, even a politician. I was the only journalist/free-lance musician there. Lynne led us through many different exercises throughout the weekend. The first was to chose a partner and tell that person how we’d been damaged by money. Surprisingly upsetting. Lots of sobbing, the tissue box being scooted around the room. You get the picture.

         Next, she invited us to tell our life story. Really ham it up, she said, wail and moan, give me tear your hair out dramatics. Needless to say, it was very noisy for the space of five minutes. Amazingly, that’s all the time she gave us for each exercise, and just as amazingly, that’s really all the time we needed.

         I did my best, pleading with my partner to take pity on poor pitiful me. And then Lynne said a very shocking thing.

“I want you to commit to never boring anyone with your sob story ever again.”

         I was stunned. What? My story boring? And then I realized, yes, it is boring, even I was bored with it after all these years, hashing it over and over again. And I felt a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders. I thought, Yes! Yes! I’ll make that commitment. I’ll never bore anyone with it again. I spent that evening in my hotel room feeling the wonderful freedom of that commitment.

         The next morning Lynne invited us to partner up again, and this time she told us to tell our life story, but from a perspective of gratefulness. Now this was startling. Gratefulness? For all I’d been through? Gratefulness, yes…for strength, fortitude, perseverance, intelligence, creativity, wisdom gained, lessons learned, compassion, insight, all of it gratefully acknowledged. And I felt a new perception of myself as towering, capable, grateful, and not a victim.

         The next exercise, the last one of the weekend, was to state for what do we take a stand. Not a position, not like, “I’m against the war or against poverty.” The way Lynn described it was that, by taking a stand you are neither for nor against something. You are who you are and taking a stand means stating what you will do to make a change in this world.

         My partner during this exercise talked about literacy and how in her retirement years she had volunteered to teach children to read, and even as a young mother teaching was important to her and reading to her children was important, and every time she said those two words, mother and children, it was as if all sound in the room had been muffled and those two words mother and children boomed out at me. The glimmer of a thought burst in my heart and I thought, no that’s impossible, and I tried to push it aside. I told my partner, “I don’t know what I stand for.”

         When each pair was done with the exercise, we returned to our large circle and Lynne invited whoever wanted to, to stand and make a statement, “I stand for….” The commitments were many and varied, teaching literacy, teaching empowerment to women in Africa, giving good financial care and guidance, saving the rain forest. There was a pause, and then I felt a surge of energy pushing me up out of my chair. Shaking, I stood facing the circle and uttered these words, tears streaming down my face.

         “I stand for mothers and children. I stand for mothers who have hurt their children and who have made horrible mistakes. I stand for telling these women that they are not monsters and that they can heal themselves and that they can heal their relationships with their children.”

         There was silence as Lynne gazed at me. Then she looked around the room. “Does anyone doubt that this is what this woman must do?” People shook their heads. She looked at me.

 “You know it won’t be easy.”

And I said, “Yes, I know, but I don’t have a choice.”

She nodded.

I believe what happened was this. I believe that through gratefulness, we open our hearts to a power within, which is then manifested in the form of true purpose and meaning. My life since then has been an odyssey pushing me, leading me, guiding me towards this purpose. It has been bewildering and frightening, full of doubt and terror, and at the same time full of blissful meaningfulness and courage.

Women, not many, but a few have reached out to me with thanks, have said that my mission has changed the way they feel about themselves, about their kids, has allowed them to be more aware, more present as mothers, has helped to open a dialogue with older children now adults that they may have hurt in the past. Every now and then a woman will say to me, thank you, and I know then that I can’t quit.

I feel that perhaps Open Salon isn’t the place to do this, but I had to get a sense on a more public scale whether there was an audience for my work. I’ve tried blogging on some of the mommy blogs out there, but they’re too nice for what I have to say. OS is great for that, for being honest.

But I got what I came for here at OS, even though I didn’t know it when I started…the correct spelling of a name, so now I can continue on my journey. I’m like Alice who finds the little golden key at last. I’m only hoping it opens the door into the lovely garden I seek. If so, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ve got to see if I can make this dream of mine happen, but I can't if I'm spending all my time distracted by this lovely, intriguing and fascinating neighborhood.

It’s wonderful here. People move in and out and there are the longtime residents who’ve seen them all come and go. I thought I’d like to make a one-year anniversary; if I do it won’t be like you real owners of this place.

But I must get on with my mission. Hope that doesn’t sound overblown and full of myself. Probably does, but that’s okay. I know what I have to do. I’ll stick with it until I can actually reach the women I need to reach, or I may finally give up and say forget it, I was deluded. But until that time I’m a broken record and I can’t help myself; I just can’t.

I wish I had something else to say here on OS, but I have to remain true to myself. I’ve got to keep sending out queries and looking into different venues and sources and talking to people, which I can’t do if I remain so totally addicted to the wonderful people and writers here on OS.

So, thank you. I wish I could afford to continue spending hours and hours everyday reading posts and leaving comments. I can't.

I had intended to quit OS altogether, but I find I cannot. You're all just too enticing. Instead, I must establish a balance. I hope to pop in once in a while to say hello, if that's allowed. I feel it may be a bit rude, like crashing a party for the dip and bailing before cleanup time. I don't want to be that, I don't want to be a bad guest. But I can't musn't won't be addicted to you all. Sorry.

I’ve had a fantastic time. Be well, stay safe, (sorry John B., not an order, just a hopeful sentiment), and I hope you all continue to take good care of one another, as you so obviously do. (Well, for the most part.) All the best.

P.S. Most of you missed a great analysis about why Cat and some other writers here are so good. Well, you already know she is, and she wouldn't toot her own horn. Much too modest, right Cat? But you really ought to check out Ken Honeywell's terrific post if you missed it. Cat won't give herself a tiara, but she deserves one, and I think you clever people who know how to jiggle around images should give her one. I think she'd be swell in it. http://open.salon.com/blog/ken_honeywell/2009/11/08/the_year_of_will_someone_feed_the_cat