I’ve been working through some meditations for abundance, and this one particular meditation brings you through the layers of the cosmos all the way to your higher power. The person I always envision at these times is my dad. Not that I think that he’s God, but I do tend to hold on to his words as if they were the holy scripture. 

My dad knew about survival. He grew up poor in the 40s with an alcoholic father whose full-time job was as a park bench bum – classic, just as you’re picturing it – and a single mom who took the job as the apartment building superintendent in exchange for free rent. Although she was a skinny 4’ 11” and bought shoes for her size 4 feet at Buster Brown, everyone knew that no one fucked with Annie. 

My Dad, a man of his word, told stories about stabbing his brother Eddie in the hand with a steak knife when Eddie kept reaching for his food. 

“Do it again and I’m gonna stab you, Eddie.”

I can see my dad, making direct eye contact, speaking in that low, Jack-Nicholson-in-The-Shining voice. Eddie calls his bluff. You know what happened.

He also spoke of how, on Christmas when there was no money, my grandmother would hide some of their toys for a few weeks, wrap them and give them as gifts so they would have something to open.

So my dad was utterly grateful to land himself a job as a Long Island Railroad conductor. Still drinking at the time, he had the willpower to be sober for work so that he could provide for his family.

I heard a lot about gratitude growing up. Gratitude for having a job. For having a house, a car and food on the table. Gratitude for eating take out and money to buy tickets to the circus and the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. In my father’s book, this wasn’t enough, it was more than enough. In fact more than he ever thought he was capable of providing. 

But there were times when I was in my late teens and early twenties when I would talk big, about things like traveling or taking singing lessons. Goals and dreams I was willing to work for. My dad would say nothing, which said everything. 

We had everything we needed, which was luxurious compared to his upbringing. And we had some of the wants. In his eyes, there was no need to want anything else. Stay below the radar, be grateful for what you have. If you start wanting more, you could lose it all.

So, back to Glenda the Good Witch. 

I was really struggling to get through this one meditation that helps to release blocks to abundance. My mind would wander, thoughts would take over, and I just couldn’t lose myself in the words of the meditation. And I realized that when I was asked to envision a higher power and I would see my Dad, I couldn’t connect to the abundance.

I could see the rebellious victory of rising from poverty and a GED into the security of the consistent and reliable working-class arena. I could feel that feisty energy from the reward of working like a dog then sitting down to a home-cooked meal of T-bone steak fresh off the grill, with a loaded baked potato and brand-name, canned asparagus because when you worked over-time your wife could buy Green Giant even when it wasn’t on sale.

But this was my Dad’s reality, not mine. He achieved his goals, and I plan to do the same. The problem was, I needed a new higher power when it came to abundance. Although I might have consciously chosen Beyonce’ or J Lo, or David Sedaris, my subconscious, meditative self saw Glenda. The shimmering golden light I was instructed to visualize brought me to the good witch. 

Glinda, with her positive attitude, and ever-present smile of hope. Her words of goodness and wisdom as she watched over Dorothy. I remember her clearly from my childhood, helping Dorothy overcome any obstacles that stood in her way on that yellow brick road. 

And, Somewhere Over the Rainbow was one of my Dad’s favorite songs.

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