The Power of Words

Okay, so this is no longer funny. I still cannot speak. What was a croak yesterday afternoon was reduced to a complete whisper last night.

This is not fun for a Gemini - ruled by the planet Mercury: the Messenger, the Communicator. Taking the power of speech from a Gemini is like taking the wings from a bird. Yesterday afternoon I was reading 'Training for Dummies', which is ironic. Whoever heard of a mute Trainer?

So, the Universe wants to teach me a lesson, and the sooner I learn it, the sooner my words will return. And I don't think they will be the same words as before.

The Tree of Life reality works on the premise of positive actions reaping positive outcomes - you reap what you sow. Plant an apple seed, and you don't expect an orange tree to grow. Plant a bad seed, don't water it and what, you want nice fruit? Anything physical in the universe starts with something metaphysical. Everything created in this world was conceived by thought.

Thought. Word. Deed. Take away the Words and what am I left with? My thoughts.

I am a quick learner. I am quick to observe. I am also quick to open my mouth and dominate a conversation, chip in my two-pen'orth, verbalise everything that runs through my mind, make myself feel better by having something to say. My Ego considers that everything that churns out of my mouth is something of value and worth hearing, but after being forced to listen to others without the ability to respond, I am changing my mind.

I am meeting them all - from the people who compensate for their own insecurities with dramatic and snippy statements to those who have to provide a running commentary of every action. But like I said, without the physical ability to react or respond, I am forced to listen to my thoughts - my own Ego, chattering away.

"Oh that's terrible - you have to leave at one thirty? I can tell you, darling, you will miss lunch. They are running so late. I have been here since half nine and they've only just really started. What will you do?" (like I am going to die if I miss the lunch, or something? Like I've made a tragic error by assuming that they would start on time? Have you not thought that considering I have been coming here for twice as long as you have that I haven't worked out that most connections here start late? Chill, lady, my spiritual completion isn't going to hinge around a single lunch). Hey, so probably you can't speak because you talk too much anyway. (Gee, thanks. I'll take that on board.)

"I think the strudel is cooked now. I think it needed longer in the oven (well, that figures) Oh but I don't know how I didn't see that the ice-cream was mint. I didn't notice in the shop and I didn't notice when I put in the freezer. I don't like the mint. (You've said this already, twice).... So, we will take this from here.... and put on here..... I think you will like this. Yes, I think you will. Good to have something warm. Maybe you have the pasta tomorrow.....Still, we will have the dessert. ............... It's not so bad because they have the white ice-cream on the top............(yes, it's nice) and the chocolate is good. You think the chocolate is good? (is a nod good enough for you?) but still all the same I like the vanilla.... It has raisins inside (You don't say. It's an apple strudel, it should have raisins inside, and yes, I noticed there were raisins. Actually, they are sultanas, not raisins. Oh and apple too. Are you going to point out the apple too? Or maybe the pastry?) I think it's warm enough. Do you think it's cooked? (of course it's cooked, can you not tell for yourself?) I think so............ You should have some more - please finish it. I am full. I am not hungry today. (I have just eaten the equivalent of 2000 calories in pastry, apples and ice-cream, and you think I should be eating more? I bet this serves 6 people minimum. There are two of us. If I eat any more, I will be sick). Painfully I croak "Seriously, I am full - thank you. It's really delicious" ............................ Really I think you should finish it. (*sigh* oh please don't force me to speak again). I am not hungry today. I had big lunch. It was so cold..... and they say that the weather is going to get a little bit colder...... So much rain........... *sigh* ...so much rain. Too much for the birds, I think".

Too much for me, I think.

Listening to other people makes me realise how dull some of my own verbal ramblings can be, and how much of what I say isn't necessary at all.

The only amusing part in all of this is watching other people's reactions when the only response that you can continually give is a smile. Not being able to converse and fill in the gaps and agree or disagree has a remarkable effect. Because whilst I am left with my thoughts, they are left with the sound of their own voices.

A learning experience for us all.

The Silence is Deafening - but only for me...

So - my second Pesach last night. A LOT of fun. Lots of singing, lots of downing glasses of wine, lots of clapping, lots of getting confused with the Seder plate.

The first challenge was to move outside my comfort zone - my friends were in San Diego and I hadn't arranged to meet anyone there. It's a funny thing, because last year I went to most events as a 'stranger' and I felt quite used to turning up on my own. And now as I have formed my own friendships, I feel a little bit lost when they are not there.

The loneliness lasted all of five minutes - as soon as I sat down I got chatting to a couple of people, and the rest, as they say, was history.

And after 40 minutes, so was my voice. I'm not sure at which point my voice disappeared, but by the time I reached the dinner table it was no longer there. The best I can managed is a hoarse croak (or should that be a husky murmur?)

This meant that much of the time I spent listening rather than talking. Perhaps that was my challenge. Perhaps the 'Light' wanted me to hear certain things that I wouldn't have been able to capture with my mouth open (which I did). Or perhaps God is saying 'Oh for goodness sakes woman, just give everyone else's ears a rest for a change'. Either way, I had little choice. And apart from driving each person nuts at least twice by explaining I had lost my voice, which due to my broken dulcet tones was entirely unnecessary (hey, I did drink four glasses of wine, down in one, three of them on an empty stomach) I think most people appreciated that unless we were singing (or drinking wine), my jaw was clamped firmly shut.

And my voice is still absent this morning - a blessed relief for all concerned.

There is just one teensy problem. The woman who interviewed me last week said that she would get back to me on Friday. She didn't. So I lasted out the weekend and decided that she would get in touch yesterday. She didn't.

I have to admit, all manner of thoughts have been going through my head, from 'she's busy' to 'do I smell, or something?' to 'well, how incredibly rude. The least that she could do is let me know either way' to 'maybe they are interviewing other people and lining me up for another role' to 'maybe they are interviewing other people and have decided not to touch me with a barge pole'

Whatever their decision, you have to admit, it doesn't look promising. I mean, they're not exactly snapping my hand off, are they? So here I am with my pride a tad dented - feeling rather buoyant after the interview, that I could not fail in getting the job, that they would ring me first thing in the morning and say 'Yes, you would add enormous value to our company. when can you start?' - wondering now which bit of me they didn't like, if any.

So I should call. It's the grown up thing to do. Touch base with them, remind them of my interest in working for their company. Except that I have no voice. So I can't.

Silence all round.

Naff and cowardly as it seems, I'm going to have to send an email instead. And then crack on with re-writing my CV. In silence.

Preparing for Pesach

Tonight's the night. From sunset tonight we get the opportunity to change: to remove our negative traits forever. Well, it clearly didn't work last year, not for me anyway. But this year I have attempted a little more preparation.

For the past couple of weeks I have been consumed with the task of completing an 'Ego Workshop', identifying my Ego: when and how do I react?

I could go on forever with all of my negative traits, but I was given a list of 12 to put in to order: which do I identify with the most, and which do I identify with the least. Only 12? Is that all? Well, that's a tough call, but not wanting to turn in something produced with half effort (PRIDE), I did my best and completed the sheets in my neatest handwriting.

Judgement came out on tops. I judge all of the time. I compare. I wondered whether anyone else was being as open as me with their answers. Because it's not easy to go this deep. And if you think it is, well, I'm not even going to say what I think of you. Oops, there I go again...

So, how to choose from the rest? Looking for Comfort: check. Distances from people: check. Depression: *sigh* I guess I can see those in myself. Others I couldn't really see as being me, but on reading the descriptions on how these traits show up in your thoughts, it was hard to choose between them (and no, indecisiveness was not on the list, and given that I filled out the sheets at the last minute, I was disappointed to see that procrastination wasn't there either. I mean, what kind of silly test is this? (Oh wait, Judgement again?)

The trait that I least identified with was "Abrasive" (which sat just above Anger and Rage). The description for 'Abrasive' was "Cynical, Rude and Agressive, Criticism and Tactless, Ignores"

I met with my teacher, after he had changed the time of our meeting twice at the last minute. He had forgotten all about the Ego Workshop. I mean, for heaven's sakes, what kind of treatment is this? Do I have to do all of the running here? (Oo, hello Entitlement)
I dug the carefully folded sheets out of my oversized handbag and winced as he glanced at the sheets and said "I cannot read your handwriting - read through it and explain what you have said"
Cannot read my handwriting? Cannot read my handwriting? MY lovely neat handwriting? (Hey, Pride! Good to see you again, thanks for popping by! And who's that you brought with you.. Oh Hi Anger! My, my, you move quickly!)

"So" he said after looking at my numbered list "Abrasive not something you see in yourself"
"No" I replied, not at all abrasively.
"The ones that you see the least are the ones that are harder to remove. They are there at the bottom of the layers of the Ego. When you react in your usual way, you should be looking for traces of the concealed Ego - the root of the Ego - so that it can be exposed".

I mean, for goodness sakes, what kind of exercise is this? You ask for the obvious and then spin it all around on me. I give you my best answers and then you tell me that I should be trying to remove something that I don't even see? Ha. Well I doubt that will work. I'm not sure you've even thought it through. I thought all of this was based on wisdom 4,000 years old? And I'm not even being given credit for all of the hard work that I am doing. I think you are just making all of this stuff up.

Hmm... perhaps I need to re-order my list....

Anyhow, armed with my Big List of Things To Remove, I am heading in for the Seder dinner tonight, full of prayers, connections and meaning. And what is the one thing consuming my thoughts? Whether I will eat a larger spoonful of Maror (Horseradish - excruciatingly painful to chew, but as you keep chewing it turns sweet) than last year, and whether I will be able to eat a bigger spoonful than some of the other students.

I can only pray that tonight will be the last night that I carry quite so much Judgement and Pride.

Entering with an Army, leaving with a smile

Yes, I've been a bit quiet on the blogging front for the past couple of days. And despite someone throwing a petrol bomb at the front of the flats I live in (hence the police cordon) I am still in one piece. All is quiet on the western front.

Or maybe I just haven't noticed, due to being completely absorbed with preparing for an interview.

I had a brief phone interview last week where I was given details of the job, which involves supporting SQL Based applications. Yeah, I can do that, I thought. I used to run queries all of the time, generating reports. Okay, so not actually in SQL, but on a relational database. Okay, so not actually building queries that join tables, but I understand the concept and the technical knowledge - oh, that just comes so naturally to me. If you looked at my DNA under a microscope, instead of ADGT, you would see little building blocks of TSQL.

"Excellent" said my potential interviewer "We'd love you to come in for an interview, and we'll also give you a SQL Syntax test to see what you know"

"Great", I replied "and who knows, I might even surprise myself on that one"

And so I was feeling fairly confident, verging on cocky. Until I started reading through the online training manuals, that is.

Crap - I don't remember any of this stuff.

So I studied. And I pored. And I took notes. And I invented queries to test myself. And every time I thought I had mastered a subject and returned to it to test my knowledge, I went blank. Not only that, but I was also trying to prepare for the interview itself.

I like interviews like a cat loves a hot bath. After practising a few standard responses (strengths, weakness (who, me?), why I want to work for them, etc) I looked at the competency based questions, (Tell me about a time where you had to solve a really difficult problem. What steps did you take and what was the outcome?) and turned pale because I had gone totally blank once again. I decided that ignorance was bliss and that I would have to trust that on the day everything would turn out for the best.

And today was the day. And it was a nice day. Until half an hour before I had to leave the house, when it starting raining cats and dogs - which was fine until I realised that I had left my umbrella elsewhere. I prayed for the rain to stop. It didn't. I left the house wearing a scarf over my hat and coat, and my nice leather 'business wallet' in a Sainsbury's carrier bag. Cute.

I arrived fifteen minutes early and rang my teacher, as arranged. Now, you may think that this is a strange thing to do when your mind should be set on the immediate task at hand, but I trust in the benefits. My teacher read a portion of the Zohar to me over the phone. "We want you to go in there with an Army." He said. Luckily for me, listening to the Aramaic is enough to receive a download. Suitably charged, I went in to battle.

I was introduced to one of my interviewers and taken in to a small room to sit the SQL Test.

"I have to say, we are still working on this and it's not quite right" he said. "I find some of the questions really hard and I'm a programmer. So just write like fury and do what you can."

Oh, fab.

There were 15 questions. I answered 3 of them partially, and one of them fully. Then I had a stab at writing a few notes on how I would answer question 6. Oddly enough, rather than turning pale and panicking, I laughed. Even the bits of syntax that I was sure that I knew I forgot - so, like, whatever. What I knew was that in the Real World, I would be able to pull all of this together without a hitch. In the Real World, there is something miraculous called 'Online Help', and I am rather good at knowing where to look.

The interview itself went well. The people are nice, the company is very authentic - I would enjoy working there. (Two people after the interview have asked me how many others they were seeing for the role. You know what? That's irrelevant - either I am the best person for the job, or I am not. Either I am meant to be there, or something else is coming).

I was asked multiple competency based questions and again, rather than panic at my total lack of preparation, I simply paused and waited for the words to come. And come they did. I had a lot of help on my side - a pretty good set of troops were at hand. I also had the opportunity to demonstrate my actual knowledge of SQL, by covering the questions on the test and explaining the parts that I couldn't complete. They seemed happy enough.

Anyhow, I will discover the outcome tomorrow. Have I convinced them? I don't know - but I am very happy with how it went. I left feeling light, and with a smile on my face.

In the subway entrance to the tube station, I saw a shabby man sitting cross-legged on the stairs, begging. My instant reaction was "oh I can't be done with this... With all of the build up and what I have done today, I just want to get the train home and eat. I'm not going to dig around in my purse and give him money"and I crossed to the other side of the rail and walked past him.

And as I walked past, I noticed that he was shivering deeply, and huddled over a sign which read "no home or job. Please help me if you can"

An argument started in my head - one voice telling me that I shouldn't be a muppet and give money to beggars, and that it was too late to turn back now - people would think I was mad, or stupid, or both. But the other voice was saying 'How can you just walk past this man? He is a human being, and however he got here, he has feelings too. You might be feeling like your life is on the up - but how can you forget how you were feeling a couple of weeks ago?'

So, halfway down the next set of steps, I stopped and turned back. I was homeless for a while, but I always had a roof over my head. I always knew where my next meal was coming from. Where is his next meal coming from?

I crouched in front of him, amidst the busy commuters, all dying to get home and make dinner, and asked him whether he wanted a coffee. He did. White with sugar. And I bought him a sandwich and a brownie to go with it. His gratitude was genuine and touching - reward enough to me in itself. It put my day in to perspective, my so-called hardships in the shade.

"You're an angel" he said, "an absolute angel."

No, I'm no angel. But I had my army with me.

In the thick of it

Life is becoming more interesting by the day. I'm not sure whether the 'hood is going through a bad patch at the moment, or whether it was going through a good patch when I first moved in.

Or perhaps the Universe is just providing me with too many distractions, given that I am procrastinating over two seemingly vital tasks at the moment.

The first is preparing for an interview due at some point this week. I have spent the last six months 'trying' to set up my own business purely to avoid having to justify myself in an interview. I cannot bear the rotten things. "Tell me a time when you solved a difficult problem that required the input of others. How did you go about this and how did you measure the results?" Oh, I don't know, it was all so long ago now.

So I'm reading the questions and thinking 'oh yes, I could probably answer that one' but when I try to practice an answer out loud, some little gremlin comes in and wipes my memory. The mouth moves but not a lot comes out save for 'Uhhm' Not very impressive.

Secondly, the interview involves a test on SQL code. Even in my last role performing relational database queries, I was not using SQL. Luckily I have an online manual to hand. If only any of the syntax would stick. Just when I think I can write a particular function, I look back on something simple like selecting from a table and find that I can recall diddley-squat.

I find myself flipping between tasks and getting nowhere.

Then, of course, as I have been working hard over the past few months on Letting Go of the past, I also appear to have let go of quite a few pounds. So much so, that the trousers for my suit no longer fit. I have to buy a new suit, which means leaving the interview prep for a few hours. Valuable time that although I am clearly not using, I cannot afford to waste.

As if I am not throwing enough rocks in my path, my neighbourhood has decided to add to the distraction.

Last Sunday when I hired a van and moved my stuff in, the street was deserted and quiet. Whereas yesterday was mayhem. What sounded like gangs of kids patrolled the streets, chanting in unison, playing team games which were verging on riots. Somewhere down the road a party was going on. Or maybe someone just fancied blaring out their music loud enough to be heard at the stadium on the other side of White Hart Lane station.

Either it simply wasn't my kind of music, or I am getting old. Oh this modern music - it's just noise to me. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM WAIL WAIL BOOM. Repeated over and over and over.

In addition to this, given the number of air horns honking for long periods late afternoon, I think there was a football match this weekend. Add that to the regular bursts of police sirens, and it's quite the place to be.

Whatever my excuse, I didn't get an awful lot done.

And so the plan for this morning was to catch up. To focus. To feel more confident at the end of the day. To have my suit in the wardrobe ready to transform me in to a modern professional at a moment's notice.

And again, my focus has wained, and I have found myself flitting between tasks out of fear, when really, it's all so simple: I'm fabulous, give me a job.

The street has been relatively quiet compared to yesterday, with the exception of what sounded like a crazed drug addict screaming his head off and smashing lots of glass outside at around 11am.

So I have no excuse for my lack of progress, but still think that I will feel better once I have bought my new suit. So I start to get ready and glance outside on to the street 4 floors below... and find that leaving the front door is going to be slightly tricky, mainly for the reason that the front door is in the middle of a crime scene, cordoned off with 'POLICE CRIME SCENE DO NOT ENTER' tape.

Oo-kay. So, where was I? Oh yes...

"Tell me about yourself"

"My name is Kabbalah Rookie and I have over six years experience in an IT Service Support environment....."

Spring is Springin', innit.

Apart from the obvious increase in temperature from bitter to mild, every year I can always tell when spring is starting to spring when the skin on my face goes to pot.

Every morning for the past week, I have woken with puffy bags under my eyes and small spots surfacing around my chin. And every year it takes a while for me to remember that the same thing happened last year. Every year I closely examine my unusually dull complexion and think "What the f-?" and every year I prod around my sinuses as though I can manually shove the excess fluid back to where it is meant to be.

This year the change in the weather has coincided with moving to a new area, and my symptoms were so severe that I wondered whether I needed any suitcases - the bags under my eyes were pretty extreme. I also wondered whether I was allergic to my new home, or simply just the area.

I wasn't expecting to move to this area. I am living in Tottenham, within a stone's throw of White Hart Lane overground station. The address might state 'Haringey', but it's definitely Tottenham. I was aiming for a more upmarket area, like Muswell Hill or Highgate or Crouch End. Instead, I am in da ghetto, innit.

If there is a good way to learn unconditional love, this has to be it. It is a poor area. The flat I live in is surrounded by Turkish families, unable to speak English, with children who are out on the streets at all hours. Everyone else is black. Or Polish. Or something else. Basically speaking, as a Single White Female, I am the ethnic minority. I am it. I am She. I stand out like a sore thumb. And it scared me at first.

The road to the station - Pretoria Road - is littered with small piles of glass from the side windows of cars, foolishly parked with something potentially removable on view. Young black men saunter up and down, their jeans hanging somewhere around their knees. The first couple of times I walked from the station late at night, I found myself in a rush to get through the front door, uncomfortable with following or being followed, trying rather impossibly to look invisible in my bright purple winter coat.

After the initial culture shock, I opened up. People are people. Everyone has their own story. Despite external appearances and behaviours, we are all human. I decided not to judge - to be friendly to everyone I met. To have no fear.

My first challenge was at the post office, at the front of the queue waiting for two young people to finish their individual transactions at the counter after a riveting conversation on chewing gum ("Yeah, I wanna pay my rent, a'ight? You can take eleven fifty from dis, yeah? Ana haf one pahnd fifty to pay in cash, innit. Oh, an den I want sum cash back, innit. You do dat, right?" Believe me dahlings when I tell you that this is such an education for me). A young (white) guy wearing a dodgy tracksuit was two behind me in the queue. And as the young couple sorted their finances, he got increasingly agitated.

Oo 'eck, I thought, it's all about to kick off. He was hopping from one foot to the other, looking at his watch and grumbling to himself. I opened my mind to the possibility that he had a medical issue which was best not revealed in public. But no. He pushed forwards and tapped me on the arm (RAPE!!! RAPE!!!) "Excuse me, sweet'art, can I go in front of you in the queue? Only I've got one of these" he lifted a trouser leg to reveal an electronic tag "and I need to get home really quick. I'm really sorry, but is that okay?"

Oh. I am mingling with common criminals now. Being in no rush myself, and given that he asked so politely, I allowed him to go first. He thanked me profusely as he left. Whatever he had done to earn the tag, he hadn't lost his manners. The old man behind me in the queue, instead of judging my posh, white, middle-classed (oh if only they knew) ass with a disapproving stare, smiled and raised his eyebrows: The youth of today.

And so I have found I have a choice, and that my attitude affects my experience. Smile, and they smile instantly back. It's not so hard to fit in.

All da same, when ah walk back from da station late at night, yeah, ah fink it's a good fing to be a bit more street - ya know wot ahm sayin'? Coz dey ain't gonna mess wiv me, innit, when ah looks like dis is ma patch, a'ight?

I betcha wondering what happened to me, huh?

Hello! It's Me!! I'm still here!

Wow, there's nothing like living out of a bag for 10 days to hamper one's blogging activities!

I'll be brief (because this is a rare opportunity to have a nice cup of tea whilst I am in one spot) and summarise.

Tuesday - 5 days before moving:

• Had arranged to see a bedsit which sounded ideal, but was pipped to the post by the girl before me, who was given first refusal. Felt strangely un-bothered by this.

Wednesday - 4 days before moving:

• Went from feeling strangely un-bothered, to extreme panic and had an enormous meltdown. Realised that I was completely in denial about moving. Hadn't packed a single box, nor found a place to stay. Could not decide whether to invest time on packing or looking, so did nothing. Very nearly broke down in tears to my teacher (my goodness me, I nearly cried?! who, me?!), who advised that 4 days was more than enough time for something to happen, and that I should start packing.
• Bumped in to a friend who immediately offered to help me load the van on Sunday.
• Stayed up until 4am.

Thursday - 3 days before moving:

• Up at 8am and starting to pack. Uh-oh. This is taking longer than I thought.
• 22 listings ended on eBay: needed to arrange collection on 4 items of furniture, and post 10 parcels. And box up the rest.

Friday - 2 days before moving.

• Early start again, starting to see through time.
• Posted eBay items.
• Toyed with the idea of sorting out my clothes and the airing cupboard, which resulted in 2 huge bin liners for Charity, and 4 for the dump. And I couldn't put them outside, because it was pouring with rain.
• Had a chat with a man in the garden next door and discovered that his wife worked for a charity, and would be happy to take various items of furniture and pots and utensils from the kitchen. He also promised that he would come round on Monday to pick up my enormous bookcases, a couple of tables, and that any small electrical items that I didn't want to keep he would happily run down to the dump. An Angel, surely, out of thin air?
• Started to post items on FreeCycle - a website where you can offer things you no longer want and take things that other people no longer want, all for free. Was then tied to the laptop arranging for people to collect these items too...
• My friend, Hen Lady, arrived to help me clear out the kitchen and said that she was concerned that I still had so much left to pack. 'Honestly, it's fine', I assured her, then stayed up again until 4am.

Saturday - 1 day before moving.

• Up early again.
• Most items from FreeCycle and eBay collected by this time, including the sofa, which meant I had nowhere to sit.
• Still no idea what to do with the wardrobes. Rats.
• Packed 'the office' and separated my clothes in to ones that I could store and ones that I would need for the next couple of weeks. Dismantled the wardrobe at 2am. Went to bed at 4am, feeling a teensy bit tired.

Sunday - Move Day.

• Woke up at 8am to the sound of pouring rain. Realised that I had left my umbrella at the Kabbalah Centre. Reminded myself that things could be worse.
• Picked up the van at 9am and then continued to pack boxes. The van looked a tad small.
• My friend arrived at 11:30, with enthusiasm but little direction, and a bad back. We carried the furniture downstairs, where I received a call from Hen Lady, asking whether I still needed her help. She sounded rather disappointed when I said that we had only just started loading.
• 1pm, Hen Lady arrives with enthusiasm, focus, and the authority of a Sargent Major. She decided that I should do two trips with the van. Beyond the ability to think for myself, I just nodded.
• 11pm - two trips to my Dad's workshop (traipsing across a flooded mud-bath of a lawn) I arrived home, exhausted.

Monday - the day of the charity collection.

• Or maybe not. I swear I only went out for an hour, and I left a note on the door. And the man didn't come to take away the bookcases, tables or kitchen items. Hmmmm... Never mind, maybe he'll show up tomorrow.
• In any event, I am too tired to take action. I was meant to be cleaning the house, but was motionless with exhaustion until 5pm. Started to clean the house and carried on until 4am.

Tuesday - final day of tenancy.

• I'm screwed. I have a small van load of items to be collected and no transport. I have an entire house to clean. I'm knackered.
• 10:30am - Dad rings out of the blue to tell me that he is coming over to help. Between us both we take the items to the dump and clean the house, finishing at 7:30pm. My hands are raw from cleaning.
• Dad is the real Angel - what a star.

So here's the thing, I was told that once I let go of my past, big things would start to come in. In the last few days I was giving things away to lighten the load - there is nothing like watching your sofa go down the street on top of a car roof rack 5 minutes after you've been sitting on it to make you realise what you take for granted in life. I was giving so much stuff away that I wasn't really sure what I had left. My life as I knew it simply disappeared.

And for several days I was lost. From the kindness of friends and family (thank you Lulu) I haven't been turfed out on to the street, but with most of my belongings and paperwork being stored in my Dad's workshop, I had a slight panic going on.

And still I wouldn't cry. Still I kept up a front. Still I listened to everyone else telling me that everything would be fine and it would all work out. But deep inside was a voice screaming "YOU HAVE NO JOB, YOU HAVE NOWHERE TO LIVE, YOU ARE NEARLY 40 YEARS OLD AND SINGLE, YOU ARE LIVING OUT OF A FUCKING BAG, FOR GOODNESS SAKES! - HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU LET IT GET TO THIS?!?!" The reality hit me and all at once I was baffled. How did I let it get to this? Okay, so maybe then I cried a little.

Now let me tell you the good part. The part that teaches me to trust and be patient that the Universe is unfolding as it should. In the past 48 hours I have found a place to stay - for free in the immediate future - until I find the room I am looking for in the area that I live in. This was a chance introduction on Shabbat morning. I will move some of my stuff in this weekend.

On Friday evening, again at Shabbat, I sat next to a woman who said that she knew a guy who ran a company providing IT solutions for not-for-profit companies and charities, and when I was ready, she would have a word with him and mention my name.

Yesterday morning, I received a call out of the blue from the MD of the motivational training company, saying that he had a permanent position open if I was interested. Just like that. No action on my part.

This morning the woman from Friday night rang me to say that she had spoken to her friend and he has a couple of vacancies, and that I should give him a call immediately. Not believing in the remote chance that the vacancy would fit my skills, I casually called him, expecting a short conversation. And guess what... it was a rather longer conversation.

So it may take a little while for the story to truly unfold and things to manifest, but that's not such a bad turnaround, is it?

And if this can happen in ten days, imagine where I will be next year....

The possibilities are endless.