_Sometimes, when driving, I notice that there is nothing good on the radio--no matter how many stations I scroll through. Usually, this musical anemia corresponds with my mood. If I am pissy, there will be no good songs--I can guarantee a wasteland of commercials and musac. On the other hand, if I am in a good mood, every station promises a potential jewel of a tune. From disco to country ballads, every song hits the spot. I drive along, bouncing to "I'm Walking On Sunshine" or "You Give Love a Bad Name." This song barometer theory is not new; it merely extends the principle that when you are going through a break-up, you will only hear songs about broken hearts. Especially if you listen to country.

However, what is noteworthy about the song/mood correlation (that I discovered the other day while listening to the radio) is how my expectations and my mood relate; how they reinforce one another; how together, my mood and expectations frame the window through which I see reality. Let me explain.

It was a stormy Thursday, but I had just enjoyed a magnificent day on the Big Sur coast, soaking in hot springs on the cliffs of the Pacific. Driving home, I was in a great mood. Every song on the radio rocked, and if followed by a commercial or something less than stellar, I had no hesitation changing the station to find another song that was even better. What's more, I knew and believed that I would come across a good song; changing stations felt like opening Christmas presents. I TRUSTED. And, my beliefs were continuously reinforced with great melodies. At some point, I started thinking about other road trips and times I was not so high on life. In those times, even though I may not have enjoyed the music, I also would not risk changing the radio station. I was too afraid to ruin the mediocre experience I was already having by finding only commercials or songs I wanted to hear even less. I figured that if I surfed, my whole listening experience then would degenerate to incomplete snippets of songs I did not want to hear in the first place.

So, as you can imagine, this is a BIG life metaphor for me, and in having this realization I finally grocked the power of the law of manifestation/attraction. What I understood is not as simplistic as I had initially assumed and dismissed this law to be. What is powerful about this principle is NOT that if you concentrate on something you want that you will manifest it or attract it. No. Instead, what I gleaned is that if I go around believing that the radio will deliver a good song, then I will feel more at ease. In my easier state, I am more receptive and more apt to like something and less likely to second-guess myself if I don't. So, a song I might have dismissed were I feeling cranky might actually satisfy me, and if it did not, then I would switch the station with a lot less tribulation. In enjoying my experience--either the song or ease of switching--I would grow happier and more optimistic and further increase my odds of finding music I liked, since I tend to like music when I am happy. The songs themselves are almost irrelevant; the journey becomes the satisfying destination.

It's an easy experiment to play with the radio dial--expecting the best--but it is a lot more challenging in real life. Especially for someone like me, an ex-lawyer and a descendant of Holocaust survivors, a double whammy. In life, I often am stuck in a cycle of distrust. What I need to learn on a cellular level is essentially this: Trust that good will come your way and go about your business. Do what you want and make choices with the freedom of changing a radio station. This does not abdicate personal responsibility and relational compassion, but in my case, anyway, the sphere of personal responsibility is much smaller than I have held it to be--I have not even colored to the margins, let alone beyond them. For someone who has been genetically, culturally and academically programmed to distrust to survive, I must learn to trust. The radio experiment showed me exactly how and why trust works. Having a bout with cancer this year has made changing my approach to life imperative. Hopefully, I will live a long time. But whether it's a long or short life, I don't want to spend the ride in consternation, not enjoying the music and too scared to change the station. The key is remembering -- in every situation, in every decision -- that I am behind the wheel, that I am driving, and that the Universe has many, many stations for me to choose from. And that, as I lip-synched at the summer camp talent show in 7th grade, I Love Rock and Roll.  Thanks, Joan Jett.