Writers Rising

My purpose is ________.

2012-01-29T09:43:00.000-08:00

Photo: creepypasta.wikia.com

My talented friend, Tameka Mullins (Lyric Fire blog) posted this today on her Facebook page:

My purpose is _____________.

She shared her own impression of her raison d'etre in a beautiful manner and I loved the concept. I dashed off my own reply:

Good question! To write. To love. To recognize the beauty in those around me and give them a shining mirror to see their own beauty. To remember that my words have power and as such, to use them mindfully. To share my heart in an authentic manner. To see those obscure yet breathtaking moments around me and scribe them, painting them onto paper. I do much of this via the medium of writing, but I also do it by simply being Me. - SDS 1/29/2012

I was immediately struck by the thought that this would make a fun blog post, so I zipped off an inquiry and request to Tameka to use her idea here. She like the idea and here I am, tapping away at my keyboard.

It's an interesting, thought provoking question, yes? My purpose is ______________. The fascinating thing is that at any given moment, our answer can and probably does change. We change from moment to moment, after all. With each breath, there is potential for a new experience that will shape and change us.

If I had to boil it all down to an inclusive, all encompassing thought, I would automatically say that my purpose is to write. That's why it was my first response above. Writing is such an intrinsic part of my nature that it touches literally every part of my life. I write as a vocation, to make a regular living, and I write as an avocation, to please myself and satisfy my need to create.

Probably the other purpose that didn't occur to me when I dashed off my response above is another simple one: To grow.

That's why we're here on this Earth School, after all. To grow. To learn. To mature. To become that better version of ourselves on a daily basis. We do this by trying, failing, succeeding. We try on different hats to see how they suit us in myriad applications - relationships, careers, creative pursuits, healthy ambitions, places to live and travel. The list is endless.

Tameka's Facebook post gave me an immediate and entertaining challenge and I responded with a stream of consciousness flow of words. Usually when we do that type of writing, it is as visceral and truthful a response as you can achieve. So, in an interesting manner, I gave myself that same mirror that I mentioned in my own comment. I learned some things about myself of which I am already cognizant and comfortable. When I read my words back, I smiled, because the picture painted was that perfect fit.

There have been times when I have engaged in similar writing exercises when the resulting picture wasn't as perfect a fit. There is value in that very thing, being confronted with thoughts that we didn't realize we espoused until challenged to give them voice. I've grown dramatically from such experiences.

Today's exercise was lighthearted, effortless and fun. Tameka's delightful response further in her thread was:

Wow, Dawn! What a beautiful purpose you have! You give good purpose! LOL!

Isn't that the BEST comment that she made? "You give good purpose." I think this belongs on a t-shirt, similar to the one posted above. I know I'd certainly buy it and wear it!

Why not take a few minutes and play this game with Tameka and I? Empty your mind, take a deep breath and just write. Don't over think it. Just let the words flow until you feel it is finished. Then read your words back and see what you learn about yourself. If you're so inclined, share here with us - I think it will be a fun experience for all of us.

I also encourage you to click the link for Tameka's wonderful blog, Lyric Fire and experience her writing. She is wonderfully talented and I enjoy myself every time I pay her a visit. Tameka, thank you for the inspiration for this post!
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

TRY, TRY AGAIN .....

2012-01-06T18:06:00.000-08:00

HELLO OLD FRIENDS!!

Well, after a year (actually - it's been OVER a year!) I'm back.... at least, I think I'm back! (insert smiley face here!)

Alas, what BETTER time of year - when making New Year's resolutions - to re-start, jump-start, RENEW my outlet for self-expression and optimism? Due partly to just letting LIFE "get in the way," I've also experienced some major set-backs within my life - I think I've spent the last few months of this year just reflecting on all that has happened in that time-frame. Both good and bad, it's definitely been a roller-coaster of a ride!

One thing I've discovered in my absence from this page, is that I was experiencing a tremendous amount of guilt during those less-than-stellar moments in my life when I attempted to sit down to spread a positive thought out into the world... I mistakenly felt that I just couldn't do it. I've always known deep within me what I wanted this blog to represent. During all these lower points, I took a (probably) too-deep look at my current situation and ended up developing a major pity-party for myself in the process!

Besides a major health scare and another open-heart surgery for my husband, ailing parents, financial issues, job searching... I previously thought the year was just going down hill all the way. But believe me, I've also had PLENTY to be happy and thankful for as well this past year... So then, what about those moments that weren't so bad, or so ugly, or so horrible? Simple. Laziness.

I let myself slip out of the habit of writing - and sharing. The next thing I knew - three months had gone by - then six, then twelve. Isn't that how we let most bad habits take over? Without thinking - without focus it . just . happens .

And so - my "theme" this evening, if you will - in keep with our traditions of renewal during the month of January - is that it's o.k. .....

TO GET BACK UP

TO TRY AGAIN

TO START OVER

TO SET A NEW GOAL

TO DREAM A NEW DREAM

My mission statement within this blog has always been - and will continue to be - to spread a positive word - or smile, if you will. I hope you will continue to walk with me in that endeavor, while I learn to cut myself some slack in my self-expectations!

I might not be able to write each and every single day, but I'm going to set a NEW goal that I start by trying to post at least once a week - and hopefully, the good habits return, and I post more than that! And if I don't - I don't. But I won't get all "hung up" about it!

I sincerely pray that all of you are looking UP at this time - looking ahead to the possibilities, and taking the time to re-charge and re-kindle your batteries. Happy New Year to all of you - I look forward to renewing some blogger friendships, and making new ones!!!

Pay it forward - spread a smile!!!

-Pam

An ephemeral equation

2011-12-31T12:07:00.000-08:00

www.flickr.com/photos/monster/466981669/

We're approaching the end of 2011 and I've taken time to glance back through my blog archives for the year. Compared to the previous two years, 2011 was a slower pace of blog writing for me. The year itself was quite full of challenges on myriad levels, and that's where my focus and energy went. While I've never been one to embrace the concept of blogging daily, I do prefer to write more often than I ended up accomplishing this year.

This post isn't about typical New Year Resolutions. I've shared my thoughts on that topic many times since I began blogging (Just Say No!, Healing Morning 12/27/2010), so I won't revisit here.

What I want to concentrate on is recent events. I mentioned in my last post that life has improved slightly for me. As a freelance writer, I live a constant roller coaster ride with keeping work in the pipeline, keeping my name in constant circulation with networking groups and attending as many of those networking functions as I can. With that much activity happening on a monthly basis, you would think that work would be flowing with no problem. I would think that too, but it wasn't the case for the year of 2011. I have been through difficult, challenging times before, but I can truthfully say that 2011 rates right up at the top of the list of tough times experienced.

Why am I talking about this? Because somehow, in the midst of a truly scary time where I couldn't imagine things improving, they did. This is a quote from my last post:

"I have also just recently weathered some rather trying times where I wasn't sure how I would get from one day to the next. The darkness that accompanied those challenges was quite intense and looking back, I have no idea how I managed to maintain even a wee shred of optimism and belief that good experiences were in my personal pipeline. Somehow, though, deep within me, I did hold onto that small flame of belief. That small flame of pure love, of pure healing, of pure manifestation....it all rested deep within me, despite the trying times." With a Bright Spirit, Healing Morning 11/30/2011

I've been pondering this for the last several weeks, and even spoke of the whole experience with several friends. What strikes my immediate consciousness so strongly is this: somehow, despite all the fears, all the weariness, all the sense of self-defeat and borderline hopelessness, something within me stubbornly refused to give up. Somehow, some small spark of Life continued to fight the battle mentioned above and I presented enough belief to manifest a new contract. Let me stress that the environment of this new contract is as close to ideal as I can imagine. No small wonder, that, as I did sit down and write out those particulars more than once during 2011. What I speak of is sometimes called Life Mapping, where we write out our wishes and dreams for a specific purpose, then release the request with all its attendant specific details to God/Universe/Spirit.

I've done that many times in my life, and I admit that there was usually a healthy dose of doubt in the practice. This is rather amusing, considering that I believe in the concept for others wholeheartedly. It was for myself that I held back, that I entertained doubts and allowed niggling voices of insidious poison to creep in. That being said, I reference the above quote from my previous blog post and share the fact that something within me did persevere and refuse to completely give up.

Speaking with a dear friend on the phone during the week leading up to Christmas 2011, I talked about this realization and said,"Knowing that I was able to manifest such a wonderful result with this new work contract in the midst of such doubt, imagine what I can manifest NOW, as I am in a state of new awareness and absolute belief!"

That's magical and very powerful, that realization. Universal Law, for those of you who embrace the concept, dictates focusing on those good, positive feelings. Study the emotions and memorize how it feels to be in a space of abundance and happiness, so that you can replicate that feeling again and again.

This is challenging for many of us, staying in that positive emotion, and I am no different. My childhood mantra regarding finances is one that has programmed a negative energy for most of my adult life. This is where I am focusing daily energy to shift that pattern and change the programming. I am focusing on how I feel each day of this new work contract. I am minutely dissecting how it feels to be happy, to have money flowing into my daily existence, to know that security is being established. I am doing this so that I can amplify these emotions and project them outward so that this energy continues in a looping manner, bringing more of the same to my life on a regular and continuing basis. The challenge of this mindset is that it is an ephemeral equation. Belief is at its core, and happiness and positive emotions are the fuel. It is not a tangible thing at first. Tangible results DO occur, but the belief and positive emotions must exist first.

At a holiday party, the question was asked of us to talk about not a resolution for 2012, but of something we wanted to embrace for ourselves on a purely personal level. My thought was part of what prompted this very blog post, as I said that I had been thinking of how we behave as children. If any child is loved, they have an inalienable sense of entitlement in the purest manner. They simply believe that good things will happen and they believe that they deserve those good and delightful things. If there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty, it is that I am loved in this life. By friends and family, my life is richly blessed with love. Somewhere along the way, however, I lost some of that childlike sense of entitlement to receive good and positive blessings. Please note that I use the word "entitlement" in a positive manner, as it can carry negative connotations. What I am speaking of is that manner children have of believing in magic. I write about it quite often and I still carry a firm belief that magic exists, but I was also putting up roadblocks to receive good and positive blessings for myself. I am in the process of recapturing the sense of how that feels....that sense of entitlement in the purest, most innocent and faithful manner. Faith and belief are key words here.

So, if there is anything even remotely approaching a New Year's Resolution for me in 2012, it is to continue to give daily thought to amplifying and projecting my current level of success so that it can continue and increase in ways I have yet to imagine. I remind myself of my comment above to my girlfriend that so much more is possible. Limits are things we impose on ourselves out of fear. That much I know to be true, and it's something that I've excelled at over a lifetime...getting in my own way. I choose, now, to excel at getting OUT of my own way and existing in abundance. I know it is possible. I am living the result of my own wee kernel of belief that refused to be extinguished during the travails of 2011. I believe that that wee kernel of belief, that tiny flame that flickered valiantly in the midst of a great big boatload of darkness can be stoked. As I write this, in my mind's eye that tiny flame is growing into a nice, healthy bonfire. It warms my hands and face as the flames rise. Rather than being a destructive force, this is the kind of flame that does not consume in a negative manner. Or perhaps it does....perhaps the consuming is of those negative thoughts.

Whatever the case, it is clear to me that I can build this fire. I can increase my own prosperity. I can embrace the belief that I deserve success in multiple areas of my life. I can release my death grip on doubt and fear.

Many years ago, I was given a writing assignment to come up with a definitive sentence to describe what I wanted out of my immediate experience. This was the sentence that I came up with:

"I want to be like the fluffy seeds of the dandelion puff.....releasing from ties that bind me to a single existence to ride the winds of Life and be unafraid of where those winds will take me."

I find that sentence, that statement of intent to be a good one for the New Year of 2012. To all of you who continue to visit me here at Healing Morning and offer so many beautiful comments on what you find here, I wish you a beautiful New Year full of blessings.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Birthday Realizations

2011-12-26T14:49:00.000-08:00

I turned 30 last Monday. While I used to wonder why people felt shy about announcing their age, I think I'm beginning to understand. As I approached this milestone last week, I began to feel more like I was marching to the grave than I ever have before. It wasn't necessarily scary, but it made me re-evaluate all of the expectations I had held of myself. Like, "When I'm 30, I will have accomplished xyz. My life will be settled and I will be a boring adult." For better or worse, I haven't quite managed to achieve most of that.

This summer my aunt said to me, "You're almost 30. You should know how to clean a shower curtain." Funnily enough, I missed that lesson in the manual of life.

Most days, I still feel like an ignorant kid. But when I was younger, I had more confidence. I was sure I'd amount to something great, like a famous politician. But once college came around, so did the questioning of many systems, including the political and legal ones, as well as society, ideology, gender... In short, I became confused. Which I have remained to this day.

If that means I still don't know how to clean a shower curtain, then so be it. I'm busy living my life the best way I know how. And only I can live it!

Re-posted from BeckyBlab.

With a bright spirit

2011-11-30T18:43:00.001-08:00

Photo:
http://flickr.com/photos/dancing_sun/4064774892/

Healing. The word itself is evocative. It conjures up an immediate visceral response with attendant mental images...memories, fears, dreams, wishes. Good health is vital to every living organism on this Earth School of ours.

When I think of healing, I think automatically of love and of Light. The pure vibratory expression of love is the most powerful form of healing in existence, in my opinion. When love is present, our whole body just relaxes and sighs, luxuriating in the peacefulness of that beautiful energy.

We know from a medical perspective that those who are happy, who feel loved and cared about, who receive regular hugs from loved ones - these are the people who heal more quickly, and who have stronger immune systems. I have always found the healing strength of such a simple thing as a hug to be profound. A simple embrace, the hug, and yet that simple thing can boost white blood cell count in the human body - the part of our blood system that fights off infection and wards off opportunistic illness - and sustain a sense of calm well beyond the physical experience of the hug itself.

Just the act of writing my thoughts about healing is increasing my own vibration - I can feel it as I type the words and thoughts. I spent a good part of the 1990s working as a massage therapist, but was never truly fulfilled in that career. The healing part and the knowledge of the human body fascinated me, but massage therapy in and of itself didn't really fit for me. What did resonate was energy work; what many might recognize as the Biblical "laying on of hands", or in the traditional medical world, it is called Therapeutic Touch among other names. I learned that I have an innate ability for energy work, and to this day, although I no longer practice as a massage therapist, I still embrace energy work occasionally. It is effortless for me and is a gift I can bestow upon anyone in pain, whether it is physical, mental, emotional, or as is most often the case, a combination of all of these.

When I stepped into the unknown world of blogging over two years ago, I had no idea what I was doing with the concept. It was something I was trying on for size to keep my mind occupied during a very dry period for my freelance writing career. I've spoken of this before and I will doubtless bring it up again - the title of my blog, Healing Morning, was divinely driven. I knew I wanted it to have something to do with healing, and the word "morning" was a play on my name, Dawn. At the time, I had no idea how absolutely appropriate a title this would be, or how the title would grow with me as I grew in my blog writing.

You would think, as a result of the strong healing energies around me over a lifetime, that it would come as no surprise that this healing energy would translate into my writing. Yet, it has been a surprise. I did not know, to begin with, that my writing would touch others around the world and instill a sense of peacefulness, calm and healing. That was a vague goal, but at the time that I created this blog, I had thought to focus more on a clinical type of writing application. Instead, I found that I was being drawn to write from my heart and to allow a level of transparency that I had never dared to embrace. I began to share very private concepts here, and opened up about my spiritual side in a manner that I had rarely done before.

Again, to my surprise, the articles that I wrote that exposed very personal aspects of who I am, and my healing and intuitive abilities - those articles have, without fail, turned out to be the ones that have garnered the most interest, the most written comments and the most support. I've learned over the last two and a-half years that when I've written an article that makes me more than a little nervous about publishing it, this is when I'm writing and channeling a level of truth that needs to be shared. And that energy is received in similar fashion...in a very positive, honest manner. People respond in kind and tell me they feel a sense of peace here.

So, I continue to grow with my blog title. I continue to grow in my healing abilities and I continue to learn that my previous horizons are constantly being broadened. It is a very surreal experience at times. Just recently, I began to recognize a return to that childlike sense of creation that we tend to lose as we age. Children have an innate sense of acceptance that all will be well; they have an equal belief that good things will happen simply because those good things are wished for and anticipated with a bright spirit.

I have also just recently weathered some rather trying times where I wasn't sure how I would get from one day to the next. The darkness that accompanied those challenges was quite intense and looking back, I have no idea how I managed to maintain even a wee shred of optimism and belief that good experiences were in my personal pipeline. Somehow, though, deep within me, I did hold onto that small flame of belief. That small flame of pure love, of pure healing, of pure manifestation....it all rested deep within me, despite the trying times.

And then, in the midst of an admittedly scary phase, I felt the shift beginning. That knowing, that awareness that I've always had grew inside me. I clearly remember feeling it happening and I admit there was a bit of a struggle....a bit of lingering doubt that it was real. Yet the sense of rightness was so strong that all I could feel was delight and a sureness inside. A glowing, expanding welling of liquid, golden, pulsing brightness is how I would describe it. That is what the energy of pure love looks like to my mind's eye. Many who practice various healing modalities will point out that various levels of healing energy carry different colors and textures. I don't dispute this. What I am describing here, that golden, pulsing brightness is how I experience healing at its most profound. If I could invite you into my heart to see it and experience it the way that I do, I would do that very thing. Since I can't do that, the next best thing is to write it for you and create the image and the emotion, the textures and vibrations with words.

This article may seem to have very little point....just a jumble of thoughts about healing. I don't argue that point, as I'm writing from a stream of consciousness perspective, just allowing the thoughts to flow from my fingertips. I will go back and read through this and see if the progression is strong enough to publish the article. I think it will be, because I feel that same sense of rightness as I type the words. This jumble of thoughts is going to make absolute sense to someone...perhaps many someones. You will read this article and smile and nod, recognizing what I am attempting to convey. Your own deep well of healing energy and love will respond and there will be that magical "click" from me to you.

In this way, in this fashion, I continue to heal. Myself. My readers. The very air that I breathe in and exhale. The earth that I walk upon, as this energy overflows and spills down from my hands and flows through my feet as I walk. For those who study esoteric concepts of healing, this will make sense. For those who trust in the simple process of honoring the physical manifestation of that spark of the Divine translating into human form, it will also make sense. For those who are searching and wondering, looking for something that will lead them deeper into self-discovery, perhaps this article will light a new Divine spark. It's a beautiful and never ending cycle, of course.

With a bright spirit. This is how I write this article, at this moment. That would make a beautiful t-shirt slogan, yes? Healing is such a bright thing, yet very calm and sure. Peaceful and quiet, but also exuberant and full of that childlike sense of delight. I was asked to write an article with the word "healing" as the focus. I sat down to write and did so with a bright spirit. My hands are literally buzzing from the extreme level of energy that has been prompted as a result and I accept that manifestation in the same way....with a bright spirit. With a bright spirit, my friends.

With a bright spirit.

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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Tom Cruise & Toasted Sandwiches

2011-11-05T01:24:00.000-07:00

Well here I am home all alone with Tom Cruise, Kelly McGillis, Richard Gere & Debra Winger having a Top Gun of a night with an Officer and a gentleman.

My boy is over at his mum’s this weekend, all my extremely limited friends are busy with their real lives and I’m so shit broke I’m not game take the car out of the driveway. Mind you I should be used to the being broke bit as I can’t remember the last time I had any free money to spend on myself, but that’s another blog to write.

I’ve been flipping through Facebook and all the Blogs that I follow most of last night and today just to kill time and have come to the conclusion that “ I have No Social Life ”, unless I am being an employee for my boss or a father to my son there is currently nothing else.

I seem to have lost the part where I am an individual, that fun guy that way – way – way back in his 20’s used to have a long and distinguished list of friends who he would invite over for dinner and cards all the time. That individual who used to love going to the casino to play roulette. That individual who used to love camping and exploring the world around him.

Now not to say that I am not still interested in all of the above but somewhere on the road between exuberant youth and responsible middle age I seem to have lost all my friends, my money and my direction.

Now this has me thinking, yerh I know … “ Warning, Warning Middle Age Male Going Through A Mid Life Crisis Is Attempting To Think ” … Run people Run !

My son is 14 years of age and is looking at getting his learners licence ( car ) in about one and a half years then his official licence twelve months after that, at which time he will blossom into a young man that will have his own transport and will no longer need to rely on the OLD MAN for a social life of his own ( Until he needs to borrow money to fix the car or put fuel into it ). Now this is the part where I am starting to think …. Fact 1, My son will be independent in about two and a half years …. Fact 2, Once my son is independent he will no longer need me to be spending all of my existence on him … Fact 3, Once I am not required to reserve 90% of my awake hours for my sons social life I will have the freedom to do whatever I want, when I want ( except for work hours ), I will be able to go out with my friends without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I will be able to enjoy the Casino or Poker competitions without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I will be able to go on road trips and camping trips without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I might even be able to go to the movies or out to dinner without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule …. Fact 4, I have no friends and have forgotten how to do all of Fact 3 …. Fact 5, “ Oh Crap ”

Now don’t get me wrong at all about this Blog, I do not regret for one second running around after my son ( and NEVER will ) and it is not possible to love him or be more proud of the young man he is becoming than I am of him but I have realised that I have sacrificed my self-identity too much over the years and have a fork in the road coming up that if I am not careful and better prepared for could put me into a spin that would be hard to recover from and cause me to crash and burn ( sorry, another Top Gun metaphor ).

Well, time to go make my toasted sandwiches for dinner, curl up on the couch with my dinner and a cold drink, Flick Tom & Kelly on, settle back and to get in touch with my feminine side with no witnesses.

Till next time

Thanks for reading.

If you enjoyed reading this post please drop by " The Soap Box Truth "

Quiet voice

2011-10-29T10:41:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.digitaljournal.com

If you're a regular visitor here at Healing Morning, then you're aware that I do my best to focus on positive topics. Occasionally, something happens that isn't necessarily a light, happy topic and I do discuss these things here. My goal is to always find the positive in the midst of the whole story.

This week, I experienced something on a personal level that was alarming. I was followed home to my townhouse complex by someone who saw me at a gas station/convenient store. When I say I was followed home, I mean this was someone I didn't know and I am convinced this person had very negative intentions in mind.

The whole situation played out in about 10 minutes' time, from start to finish, when I left the gas station and drove home. This was after dark, and I was alone, which is exactly why this person chose to follow me. A single woman, alone, unfortunately provides what most think will be an easy target and victim.

When the vehicle pulled into the lane of my complex, I was still inside my car. I had a couple of things happen that I now believe saved me from harm, and very possibly saved my life. Because it was dark, it's not always easy to see the numbers on the parking spaces allotted to each unit. My next door neighbor's car is usually my marker to recognize my own parking spaces, but he wasn't home. Because of this, I had parked two spaces over from my own numbered spaces and I was on the verge of backing out and pulling in again to the proper parking space when this vehicle appeared. It was driving very slowly down our lane, and at first all I could see were the headlights. Once it got level with my location, I recognized it to be an SUV that had been at the gas station when I was there. That started the niggling feelings of doubt, because no one on my lane drives a vehicle like that particular SUV. It drove on past me and I expected it to go down the hill to the last two units on this lane. It didn't do that. It pulled into the parking spaces allotted for the management office, then reversed, pulled back out and drove towards me, pulling into my neighbor's space.

At this point, alarms were going off in my head. I waited to see if this person would get out and go into one of the town home units and they didn't. The next time I glanced over, the SUV was empty. Again, I waited, but couldn't see the driver standing anywhere near their vehicle. I was far enough away that I should have been able to see their feet on the other side of the car, but it appeared no one was there. Thinking they had walked back down the hill, I did something incredibly stupid. I got out of my car and shut the door, but didn't lock it. Immediately, this guy popped around the end of the SUV and headed straight for me, walking fast. I, in turn, yanked my car door open, got in, slammed the door shut and locked it. I made sure to look him dead straight in the eyes and he veered away, walking past my car and started talking on his cell phone. I started my car and left, driving up the hill into the subdivision that backs up to the property of my complex. I parked where I could see the entrance of my lane, shut my lights off and waited. About three minutes later, that same SUV pulled out and left the neighborhood.

Several years ago, a book came out called "The Gift of Fear" by Gavin de Becker. I remember watching an Oprah show with him as the guest, and his comments stuck with me. Trust that voice of fear. What I can now clearly recall was that as soon as I saw the headlights of that vehicle turn into my lane, I was instantly on guard. Something felt wrong. As the rest of the story played out, I felt that sensation stronger and stronger. What I also experienced were whirling thoughts and a lot of self doubt. Women are raised to be polite and that very habit has most likely caused many unfortunate deaths over the years. The young man who followed me that night was clean cut, nicely dressed and appeared as pleasant as could be in the convenient store of that gas station. He even smiled at me as I walked in. I did the typical response of smiling back. When I was sitting in my car watching this whole thing play out, I experienced moments of doubt where I was rationalizing everything. "He's probably lost." "He must be a relative of my neighbor." "He's just parking here and walking down to those last units." All of those thoughts could have caused a terrible outcome if I had acted differently.

Reflecting now, I realize that my "mistake" of parking in the wrong space is probably what saved me from harm. If I had parked in the correct spot, I would have already been out of my car with arms full of bags, my purse, keys, etc., walking to my town house by the time that SUV drove down my lane. This guy would have been able to drive right up to me, jump out and grab me or do whatever it was he had planned. If I had been at my door, he could have run up and forced his way in behind me. So, that "mistake" was the main thing that changed the outcome that night. The other thing was my own instincts. I am not exaggerating when I say I could literally feel a sense of urgency pressing in around me. Perhaps it was my angels or Guides, or God/Universe surrounding me and attempting to communicate to me to not get out of my car, and to leave immediately. Whatever it was that I was sensing, I paid attention to it and I'm alive and unharmed today as a result.

It can be argued that I misinterpreted the whole situation, that this young man had no ill intentions. I do not believe that to be the case. The fact that he left the neighborhood after I drove away is a pretty telling sign. Now I am left with a very unpleasant sense of not feeling safe in my own home. Although I didn't walk up to my unit and identify specifically where I live, common sense indicates that I live at one of the units of the building I was parked in front of. I have taken steps to beef up the security of my town house and am looking into purchasing firearms for the house and possibly to carry with me. Mace will become a regular tool in my purse and on my key ring.

I've often said that as we live our lives, endless layers are stripped from our rose colored glasses. This incident definitely robbed me of a certain inalienable sense of safety that I used to carry around with me. All that I did was stop to get gas and pick up a bottle of water and some snacks on an evening after dark had set in. That's all. I wasn't in an unsafe neighborhood. I wasn't dressed provocatively. I wasn't rude to the young man in question; to the contrary, I was my typical friendly, smiling self. The harsh truth is that we live in a world that harbors people of dark nature. Those people don't need a reason or a trigger to urge them to make dark choices. Because of the choice that young man made, my life has changed forever. I don't know that I'm going to feel safe in quite the same way that I used to. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Many would argue that a healthy sense of suspicion and fear is a good thing. I don't disagree with that concept, but I do refuse to adopt a victim mentality or demeanor as a result of this experience.

The person that I spoke to at the local county Sheriff's Department told me that the fact that I stared at this guy, looked him directly in the eyes, was probably one reason he veered away from my car. I was told that by doing this, I made it clear I was not a victim in a very primal manner. I don't know if that is true, that that action made that much of a difference. I'm more inclined to believe that being in a locked car made the biggest difference, but I'm sure my direct stare made it clear I wouldn't hesitate to use my car as a weapon if any threatening moves were initiated.

The outcome of all of this was a happy one. I am safe and nothing happened that night other than me getting a big dose of fear. I have done all the right things, following up with the Sheriff's Department and filing a report about the incident, informing the management people at my complex, and taking steps to increase my own personal security. By doing all those things, you would think I would feel nice and secure, but I expect that will take a while. I haven't slept well since this occurred; I've been jumpy at night every time I've heard a car drive down the lane I live on. I suspect that's absolutely normal.

As for my rose colored glasses, they're still on my nose. The rose color has been impacted, I admit that, and it may take time for the color to come back to a stronger tint. I refuse to let this experience permanently damage my outlook on life. As many have pointed out to me, I was able to think on my feet, even in the midst of panic....and believe me, I was as scared as it was possible to feel when this played out. That answered a question for me - I had always wondered if I would be the type to crumble in the midst of true crisis and fear, or if I'd be one of the ones who is able to function and think clearly. Now I know. I'm capable of very clear, logical thought, even when I'm in a situation where I am feeling unsafe and threatened. Although I did make one colossally dumb mistake - getting out of my car - I acted quickly to turn that around and everything ended well. The only regret that I have is that I wasn't in a position to get the license plate number of that SUV. I would have had to get too close for that. The gas station has surveillance cameras on site, and they have been made aware of what occurred, with dates and times. The police report has been filed and is on record. I am hopeful that this person won't harm anyone in the future, but something tells me it will happen. I was fortunate to make the right choices in the midst of my own experience and didn't come to grief. Some other woman in the future might not be that fortunate.

For whatever reason, my own experience ended well. I paid attention to my own instincts and I'm okay. My emotional state and sense of personal security took some blows, but those will rebuild in time. I'm writing about this experience primarily to get it out of my system. That's what writing does for me. I'm also writing about it here to remind everyone that dangerous people are out there, dangerous circumstances can surround you without a moment's notice, and how you react is going to impact the whole scenario. If you haven't read "The Gift of Fear", I encourage you to purchase the book. I'm including the Barnes and Noble website hyperlink to purchase it. This is for the paperback edition and it is available in used copies for as little as $2.74. If you're unable to purchase and read this book, then make an effort to be more aware of your surroundings. I am speaking first to women, but this applies to both sexes. If someone is intent on inflicting harm, they're very possibly not going to be picky about gender.

Finally, pay attention to your instincts! If I had not done that very thing, I believe there might have been a very different outcome to my recent experience. Happily, I'm fine. Shaken, and changed as a result, but alive and well. I'm also appreciative of the support of friends and family when I made this experience known. Despite the fact that I knew this was not a good situation, I was falling back on "good girl" mentality and doubting myself, thinking I was unfairly judging the situation. With the support and encouragement of friends, I became firm in my resolve to report this incident. I am hopeful that by doing this, and by writing about it here, maybe other people will also avoid a negative outcome in their own lives. Be safe, everyone, and pay attention to that still, quiet voice of intuition and instinct. I believe it saved me.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Autumnal Hues

2011-10-27T08:34:00.000-07:00

golds and gourds,

goblins and ghosts...

ochres and oranges,

weathered and worn...

pumpkin and purple,

a plethora of plummeting plumage...

autumnal hues,

a blanket of seasons change...

Posted by Ryan @ Current Ripple
more posts (here)

Dream....Interrupted

2011-10-27T01:44:00.000-07:00

It has been a while...but I'm back....with a poem about last night's alarm... and a picture of Maya when she was a baby...

Dream....Interrupted
The shrieking vail of the siren, another alarm,
and the dream implodes behind the eyelids
impaling them in thin, broken shards.

In between the up and down undulating sound
and the rocket hitting the ground
hard
there is a general silence
a huge breath holding
and them
the mighty
BOOM

we all exhale
and do a body check
a body count
is everyone all right?

"Mummy, who are the people that make the rockets
to kill mothers
and babies?"

Gather around you the tattered night
and go to sleep
my precious
you have to finish your dream.

Israel
Ashdod 2011

Soft stillness and the night

2011-10-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

Photo: awesomestories.com

I'm feeling nostalgic tonight for some reason. I have been browsing through my Drafts folder here at Healing Morningto see what snippet might jump out at me to elaborate upon and birth a new blog article. This one seems to be it. A stanza from William Shakespeare:

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.
Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night
Becomes the touches of sweet harmony.

I ran across this weeks ago, most likely on Facebook. It brought to mind summer evenings from my childhood, long before the advent of cable television and the internet. Indeed, at that time, we had three television channels and were lucky if two of them could be received on our antenna way up on the ridge where we lived. Thus, many evenings during warm months were spent outside in lawn chairs doing this simple thing....talking. And looking at the stars.

It was such a peaceful thing. Being with family, visiting, laughing together. Or just being silent and gazing upward at the expanse of stars. Some nights we would spread out a blanket to lie on, and it was then that I would imagine that the stars would drop down to touch my face. We lived far enough out in the country at that time that city lights didn't compete in the night sky and we could see the constellations clearly. The Big Dipper and the Little Dipper were always easily discernible...and we would attempt to identify other constellations from the Encyclopedia.

Balmy summer nights, filled with quiet conversation and cicadas humming in the background. The scent of freshly cut grass, blooming roses and honeysuckle would hang heavy in the moist night air. If it had been an especially good day, there might be the rare store bought treat of Jiffy Pop popcorn...that miraculous creation that we watched in fascinated delight on the stove top, the shiny aluminum dome poofing up as the popcorn popped inside.

Those days are long gone, and I remember them fondly. The Shakespeare snippet above brought the memories to mind, soft and misty, like an old photograph whose edges have been gently worn soft with time. Ghosting along my mind's eye, hovering there with wraith-like purpose, insistent to not be forgotten.

"...soft stillness and the night..." The words bring a slight ache of wistfulness to go back there again, to that back yard in the country on that side of that ridge...and let the stars drop down, once again, to touch my face.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Of life, death and living

2011-10-11T22:37:00.000-07:00

May 22, 1991: I had just gotten ready to leave for a picnic at the zoo with my friends when our neighbor rang the bell. "Did you hear the news?"

It was 7 a.m. Ma was in the restroom, Dad had just brushed his teeth. "No," he said. "Why?" The neighbor said, "Rajiv Gandhi was killed last night." We didn't even know how to react. The youngest prime minister of India. The most dynamic politician of our times. Gone. Just like that.

Mom's eyes welled up when she heard the news. It wasn't the age of multi-channel TV browsing; there was no internet; we read the newspaper; heard the story on the radio; and got updates by word of mouth.

He was 47. I, 13.

I vaguely remembered when his mom, former prime minister Indira Gandhi, was assassinated seven years ago. Mom and dad kept referencing that eventful day in light of Rajiv Gandhi's shocking demise. They were stunned that two members of the same family could be killed so brutally in less than a decade.

I didn't comprehend the politics behind the assassination, but I remember losing my appetite; feeling a sense of gloom and hopelessness; and wondering what could have been...

August 31, 1997: Woke up to this headline: Princess Diana Dies in Paris Crash. "Impossible!" I shrieked. How could she die? She was so young! An accident? What? The paparazzi drove her to her death? That doesn't even make sense. For the next 10 hours, I sat glued to the television.

BBC dedicated the day to an analysis of the circumstances in which Di departed. Then there were the wedding videos. The documentary on her life as an outwardly charming princess, inwardly depressed wife. Princess Diana wasn't even Indian! I hadn't followed her life history. I didn't see her regularly in our local news or on TV. But, still, her death affected me.

I remember watching the funeral procession; William and Harry with their innocent little droopy faces; Sir Elton John singing Candle in the Wind; Earl Spencer's eulogy; and the thousands of people who showed up at Buckingham Palace to express their grief over the untimely demise of the People's Princess.

Mother Teresa had died a day before Princess Di's funeral, but for some reason, even though her death was a bigger loss to the Indian people, Diana was on top of my 19-year-old impressionable mind. Such a fairytale-like life -- with some modern-day drama to boot -- coming to such a sudden, horrific end.

October 5, 2011: It was 4:35 p.m. on Wednesday when a colleague came to my desk and said, "Mansi did you hear thenews?" Her face was ashen white. I jokingly asked, "Who died?" and she said, "I just received a text. Steve Jobs just passed away." "No way!" I exclaimed. He couldn't have. I immediately went on Twitter. It was going viral with the news. #SteveJobs and #RIPSteveJobs fast becoming popular hashtags. But Twitter couldn't be relied upon (or perhaps, I just didn't want to believe what I had heard and was seeing). I called my husband who works at Apple. "What happened?" I asked. "Yeah...it's true," he said. "We all knew it was coming..." He was right.

Since August 24, when Steve stepped from his position of CEO, we knew he had very little time left. But still. For him to leave so suddenly ... a day after the new iPhone 4S was announced ... it just seemed so wrong. With him, even though the news was "expected," the shock was just as tangible and unexpected.

I felt the same deep sorrow I had felt first in 1991 and then in 1997.

I didn't know any of these people. I hadn't met any of them. And yet, I found myself mourning. That same feeling of, "This isn't fair," kept rearing its head ... and then that feeling of helplessness ... the realization that such is life ... the overwhelming feeling of mortality.

When Rajiv Gandhi died, I was nowhere near his age, and yet I felt he was too young to be snatched away from us. When Princess Di went, I hadn't experienced love and marriage and yet, in her death I felt wronged. I wanted her to have experienced a happy life. She never got the chance.

And with Steve, as has been said over and over this past week, there is an undeniable sense of feeling cheated -- the man was a visionary with so much to offer the world. He transformed entire industries ... the way we interact and engage with devices and with each other. He shrank the world manifold while taking Silicon Valley genius into homes worldwide. With him it wasn't just a sadness because of the void that was created, but a deep, all-engulfing, extremely selfish sense of overpowering grief ... disappointment at being robbed of the chance to see what else his creative genius could offer ...

I wasn't the only "fan in the distant" mourning in 1991 or 1997. I am joined by millions of others all across the world in 2011. These three people couldn't be more different. Their contributions to this world uniquely apart. Their charisma, their ability to be a commoner while standing apart from the crowd, distinctly similar. Their impact all powerful.

They went too early.

In a world plagued with short-term memory ... in a life that seems increasingly fragile with each passing year ... these losses seem to stay. They are a reminder that life is full of unexpected turns. And that there are no guarantees .

At the risk of stereotyping, let me say that Indians have a tendency to save for tomorrow. It's almost in our DNA. We grow up seeing everyone around us "planning for the future" ... a future that they may not even be alive to experience. And we internalize it.

With Steve Jobs' demise and the memories it has raked up, I've become ever more cognizant of the fact that life is for the living here and now. Don't pinch corners for what will be ... what is, is all there is.

The three-year-olds I hang out with seem to understand that concept so well. They don't know what tomorrow means. They aren't aware of the concept. And everything in the past is simply "yesterday." That's really how simple life needs to be.

Today is all we have. Let's make the most of it.

This post originally appeared on my blog, First Impressions.

Your Creative Process?

2011-10-09T08:59:00.000-07:00

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the so-called "creative process," thanks to a couple books I've been reading: Gail McMeekin's "12 Secrets of Highly Successful Women" and Oriah Mountain Dreamer's "What We Ache For." Some people, and I might be one of them, claim that humans are innately creative beings. But I'm haunted by questions: why must we try so hard to complete creative acts if the creative impulse is supposed to come so naturally? And why are only some things recognized as creative while others are not?

Innovation and creativity are buzzwords in the current economy, and it appears that success depends on them. But only to a certain extent--if we actually unleash all our creative impulses, all order would disappear. With the current torrent of technological advancements, it's easy to think that our lives are becoming more mechanical and less creative. Yet, even though technology can seem like the furthest thing from creativity, it was born through a creative impulse, an inspiring idea.

For me, I struggle to come to terms with my computer; we have a love/hate relationship. Years ago, I realized how vast a resource computers can contain, yet how much a drain it was to constantly sit staring at their screens and typing on their keyboards, not to mention the other, more subtle aspects like radiation. Now, it's as if my whole existence depends on my computer, yet I often can't stand it--especially sitting there nonstop as if I'm glued to it.

Often I will have an idea that I would like to blog about, yet as soon as I turn on the computer, it's as if my creativity shuts off. I love the ease of typing but my mind shifts into another gear when I'm in front of the computer. It's difficult to maintain focus on writing alone. Then, when I try to write with pen and paper, I find the feeling so awkward, it's as if I've almost forgotten how; through all the years of typing, I'm out of practice to write by hand and the letters sometimes get mixed up as they're coming on to the page. Have I suddenly become dyslexic from all the scanning I do on the computer? I never had great penmanship to begin with, but now it's all the more worse for lack of use. It's become encrypted!

Nonetheless, my urge to contribute creatively to the world pushes me to keep trying--to strike a balance between new technologies and the primal need to document my perceptions of the world on paper or virtual page. Like the cavemen who created the first tools just so they could paint their walls with images, so too I seek to use the latest tools available to enable my feelings and thoughts to take some form beyond my own head.

I'd love to hear from you in the comments: How do you balance the benefits of technology with its costs? What's your creative process?

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. V, October 2011

2011-10-07T09:01:00.000-07:00

I've mentored many a writer in my adult life, taught many adult education classes on creative writing, and lent a helping hand to countless new bloggers. At some point, the question always arises of, "What do you do when you get writer's block?"

That's the age old nemesis, isn't it? Writer's block, artist's block, musician's block....it isn't career specific to just writers. We all hit moments where inspiration just refuses to flow. It has been 29 days since I last posted here at Healing Morning and this is outside the norm for me. While I am not of the blogging daily approach, I do tend to write at least once or twice a week. I won't go into the reasons for my recent dry spell, but I will share that the answer I almost always offer to the question above is, "Just write. Don't focus on whether it's good or bad...just sit down and start writing. The very act of being in writing 'motion' will often wake up your writing Muse."

Another favorite tool of mine is to Grasshopper. If you follow me here at Healing Morning blog, then you're familiar with this concept. Grasshopper Thoughts is a process of just allowing your mind to flit....or hop (like a grasshopper) in myriad directions with no logical focus. I find it to be therapeutic to do this. It can be as entertaining to write this way as it can be for people to read it, and it allows a glimpse into that writer's soul in a curious manner. Little tidbits, little gems, little windows into who they are.

So, in the time honored tradition, I now commence Grasshoppering to encourage my own Muse to release her death grip on my normally prolific writing.

I'm a fan of the good, old fashioned Emery board to file my nails. Yes, I know that all manner of new inventions exist for this, including metal nail files that are touted to be better for your nails. They don't work for me. Metal nail files take forever for me because I'm fortunate to have nice, healthy, strong nails. Nope, give me a traditional coarse grit Emery board and I'm happy. Besides, those metal nail files make my teeth hurt with the sound they make on my nails.
Some genius person took the Cool Whip concept and morphed it into chocolate Cool Whip - bless their hearts! I'm not a big sweets eater and can go long stretches without eating ice cream, sometimes longer than a year. It's just not a temptation to me. Once in a blue moon, however, chocolate Cool Whip, still frozen is ideal.
I opened an old book the other day, and from its pages fell a perfectly pressed sprig of Lily of the Valley. I lifted it to my nose and it still carries that beautiful fragrance. I think I pressed that flower there when I was wee, and it remains to this day my favorite old fashioned flower. It was a delicate, floral time capsule moment to my adult self from my very young self and I was assailed with lovely memories.
The last time I bought Crayons, they smelled different and I was devastated. How could Crayola do this?! Whose idea was it to tweak the formula? No doubt it was done to save money, as that drives any corporation's bottom line, but it made me sad. The aroma of Crayons is iconic, or it used to be. It's still close to the original smell, but different. These are the moments when I stubbornly dig my heels in against change.
I was driving my Mom somewhere recently, just out running errands, and I said something to make her laugh unexpectedly. We glanced at one another and smiled, that silent "I love you for who you are and how I feel when we're together" communication. I'm blessed.
Someday, someone is going to invent a way to prove that creative people are NOT airheads, dingbats or incapable of remembering things. We just think and process things differently, but we manage to get everything accomplished. I'm serious - someday, someone will invent a way to quantify this fact. And THEN you'll all be sorry! ;-) Just sayin. *And if this way has already been invented, then I'm the first to cheerfully declare that I TOLD you so! :)

I think that's plenty to get the writerly thoughts warmed up. With luck, it won't be another 29 days before my next post. For now, Grasshoppering has done the trick to shift the logjam loose a trifle.

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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

at a loss...

2011-10-07T08:21:00.000-07:00

I must admit that I have neglected my postings lately...

see these past 12 months have been filled with a whole shit load of loss... it's taken the proverbial wind out of my sails for the last little bit.. melancholy is right now, a very good word.

started with the death of my marriage last December, and all that come with the decision to end a relationship.. next comes the filing for divorce and a revisiting of memories of what I/We had hoped would be on into the future... the forms are printed, partly filled in and that is as far as I have gotten... the undoing of the promises and dreams, comes down to some procedural court filings and a countdown to the day they can be processed into the end of what once was...

then came the death of my dear friends 14 day old grandson due to a heart defect that could not be rectified.. that was a tough service.. so raw the emotions of losing such a wee one... so loved and nurtured during his short stay here on earth... how he touched the hearts of all of us who prayed for a different blessed outcome, that sadly was not to be...

those of you who follow my blog know that in June, I lost who I considered to be the matriarch of my family, my beloved Rita... who stayed with us and kept us hopeful for 5 weeks following her stroke... so extremely blessed were we to have the time we did with her before she peacefully drew her last breath and moved onwards across the horizon, leaving us shattered and alone... I still feel so blessed that she allowed me to be with her when she made her journey home, and that still brings me great peace that she drifted off so easily... it was my miracle to witness...

then, just 6 weeks ago, the news that a friend had passed after a tragic motorcycle accident jarred my reality as to the uncertainty of time we are allotted in this place... waiting for updates and eventually traveling to be with others to celebrate this young mans incredible spirit... tears, laughter, photos and fellowship rounded out a fitting tribute to someone who touched many...

and then again two weeks ago, the unexpected news that one of our team had passed suddenly overnight... complications of surgery undertaken in the weeks prior... the shock was palpable, she was an amazing Lady.. full of life and love for her friends and especially her beloved family... a true Angel here on earth, who worked with numerous community organizations, opened her arms and heart to whomever needed a lift, who was sooo in love with her husband of just 5 short years, her children and grandchildren who she adored more than life itself... if you wanted to see Linda glow, mention her family....

so here I find myself, on the other side of all of this loss and I am myself lost... I read back the words I have written about my life and how at it's end "it will not have been one moment longer or shorter than was precisely planned for my journey..." and I am no longer quite as sure... I understand that we are all headed in the same direction and that no one or no thing will stand forever, but this onslaught of "leaving" has jarred me a bit. These past months have seen more loss than the entire previous decade... I can say that my faith is intact, I am just lost within the questions of why, and when... how and when is my time... will it be peaceful, will we have the time to say our words to each other... why do the good ones get taken so soon...

I hold fast to the knowledge that I am loved, and that I Love.. my existence is filled with an array of amazing persons whom I adore... I understand more clearly that to love them and cherish them, adds colour and texture and depth to my world, and that it will also in time add sadness and grief as we inevitably lose one another... all part of the same painting, all plants in the same garden of life... for to love someone today, must include that they were brought into life to live their seasons, to flourish and then decline and fade away... just as summer roses or spring tulips burst forth into life, blossom and grow, and then fade at seasons end, so to will we fade at our seasons end...

so I guess I am "at a loss" as to how to catch my heart up to my head... time I know will smooth the emotions into memories and smiles of all who have gone on ahead... time will take the edges off of the grief and fill the garden with life anew... I guess time will walk my path with me... and time will allow me to say the words I need to say, will allow me to hold and touch, cherish and support.. and Love...

original post can be found here @ Current Ripple

Wailing Wall

2011-10-04T13:35:00.000-07:00

I now bounce radiantly through every kind of light.

"Wailing Wall" was also published at Cynthia Pittmann's blog .( I would be honored if you, 'rising writer', would come over and visit my new poetry blog.)

Wailing Wall

Standing stiffly solid but mottled as a
mistress offhandedly accepting paper prayers
placed where our regrets continue to nest empty.
Why me words whispered on fallen knees…trite.
Nectar surrounds cold stone
compelling cravings for second and
third chances. Bleeding
deep mind-cuts are opening intensely.
I came to you as gentle as baby’s breath
but was torn piecemeal out of me.
Each shred examined,
used and stuck like a stamp on
letters to unwelcoming destinations.
Sighs unexpectedly chase our loss
reassuring the downtrodden
and naysayers: the wall remains static
on Yom Kippur. Wailers, stand silent
before hard and slippery walls.
It’s finished.
I now bounce radiantly through every kind of light.

Everything is Energy!

2011-10-01T03:27:00.000-07:00

Right, I'm done with searching (for now). I ususally go through a period of devouring information from all sides - dark and light but trying to keep my feet grounded in the love side. I read, research, dream, ask my guidance and look with new eyes, comparing what I have learnt so far.

I am a thinker and this causes me to over rationalise. I am also an intuitive so I 'know' things without knowing how I know. But thankfully I am also a 'feeler' and I can feel when something is off or on. But having an overactive thirst for knowledge sometimes gets the better of me.

But as I said, for now I am done, I have come into balance. This is something I used to find very hard to do where I would either burn myself swinging like a pendulum from too much thinking or too much feeling. I have learnt DISCERNMENT. I have learnt how to trust my body signals and also to have FAITH in my knowing. Also with the thinking part, I have learnt to put everything through the filter of LOVE.

So, what have I come up with so far?

Everything is energy!

Nothing new really as most of you already know this, maybe spiritually, maybe intellectually, maybe both or none of the above.

But, personally I feel I understand this TRUTH on another level. I can see how our perception can create our own TRUTH. I can feel how our feelings can create our own REALITIES. And I 'know' at some level that I am not really understanding rationally, that all is happening in DIVINE perfect order.

What does this mean?

DIVINE perfect order means that wherever our perceptions or energy are at, Divine order still happens. We may be experiencing struggle and pain with much fear, but on another level, a DIVINE level all is ok. All is enfolding at your own vibration.

So, if you are still holding on to old belief systems, beleiving everything you read or hear on the news and other authority institutions, which sometimes include the family, Church, health system and also schools, then you are expereincing a realty where the vibration is lower- not worse or bad, but just lower on the energy scale.

This causes us to not trust in our own inner guidance, to become fearful and to be carried away in a mass collectiveness where the energy is the same.

If you are beginning to see differently, question what is in front of you as maybe this is not really it, and prefer to choose peace and love instead of restricted thinking, feeling and actions, then your energy is vibrating higher- not better or special.

We all have to go through the lower to get to the higher, if that is what we want. If we enjoy the fight, the blame, the attack and the fear, we can stay where we are, it is our choice. Energy goes in the same direction as all there is is energy. As we too are energy.

Enjoy the journey, it is always our choice where we want to make our stop-overs!

family matters...

2011-09-24T00:56:00.001-07:00

Family matters to me.

All of my most treasured memories involve my family.

Whether the times were special because of what we were doing or just because my loved ones were there, I am not sure...perhaps both... but either way, I love to share the experiences of my life with those I hold most precious.

As I have grown, my understanding of family has changed somewhat, and so has the structure. My own family unit changed from a clan of 5 to an intimate 2 when I married my best friend almost 9 years ago. Over the years, others have married and had kids, adding more brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews... Having more people in my life makes me realise just how great our capacity to love really is.

Yet there is still room in my heart for more.

The desire to add to our little unit of 2 has, over the past while, been met with disappointment, heartache and unfulfilled hope.

We have walked a difficult and tumultuous journey... I know it has been a short one compared to some... but still...

It is a road I would not wish upon anyone... yet it is also a place that I know you don't understand until you have been there. The lessons are hard to learn.

I have learned that the things you always think happen to "someone else" can just as easily happen to you...

I have learned that despite how much you want or work towards something, there are certain things that are simply out of our control.

I have learned that my timing and my ways are not necessarily God's ways. I have learned to trust Him in spite of the circumstances.

I believe in a God who can do amazing miracles and defy a doctor's report.
I know that if He wants to do that for us, He will.

However, I also know that He sees a bigger picture... and perhaps... just perhaps, the perfect baby for our family is not one created by us...

I believe adoption is a miracle all on its own.

So... with that in mind, we are moving north to be closer to some of our extended family as we work towards expanding our own.

Because family matters.

A whole lot.

Also published on my blog

Writing and Loss

2011-09-22T06:33:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about how writing influences memory and feelings of loss while reading Virginia Woolf's , Moments of Beingg but wonder how could I write without the creative connection I feel with my mother? In some way she is my muse. I feel her even when I'm writing about another subject. I think I write about and with her to keep her close but in truth, I'm compelled to write about her. Is your experience writing about loved ones and loss an effort to contain the memory or are you like me? Do you write to remain connected? Since Virginia Woolf committed suicide, I think the losses she experienced were not resolved. I might be presumptuous to assume I know her in any way but that's how reading influences many of us. We feel we know the writer- especially if she writes autobiographically.

Virginia Woolf

Loss upon loss
Fears the greater loss
Still.

Imagine Virginia Woolf at thirteen. She lives in a busy household that centers around her mother, her mother who is forty...her mother who takes care of seven children-no eight because there’s one yet at home… a child not spoken of… a child who will disappear soon…a child who is called an idiot-child by Virginia as was the custom of the day. Imagine her mother is married to a man, her second husband, who is fifteen years older, a writer, and demanding. Imagine Virginia at thirteen in this busy house of guests and happenings… the same Virginia we all know through her writing… the Virginia who loses her mother on May 5, the same day of my mother’s death. Imagine Virginia at thirteen. She carries the presence of her mother (as I do) while her mother is long gone. She wrote in Moments of Being:

“I could hear her voice, see her, and imagine what she would do or say as I went about my day’s doings. She was one of the invisible presences who after all play so important a part in every life.’’ (80)
And as Virginia pours out her heart-words both troubled and turbulent in To the Lighthouse, a work of fiction that’s autobiography, she becomes empty and unbound to this once compelling presence of her mother. She asks, “Why, because I describe her and my feeling for her in that book, should my vision of her and my feeling for her become so much dimmer and weaker?” (81).

And while writing again about her mother,

she worries that she will erase her completely.

Columbine surrounding the bust of Virginia Woolf, sculpted by Stephen Tomlin.
Photograph by Pamela A. McMorrow

A selection from this post originally appeared in Oasis Writing Link.

Unconditional Love

2011-09-17T12:18:00.000-07:00

“Don’t be so nice to them, they’ll take advantage of you.” People have often told me this. More and more, it seems to me that being considerate, talking to people with a genuine smile, and going that extra mile to help another person are traits that are rare to find. Even when a person displays them, the general perception is that there must be an ulterior motive underlying the nicety. You can’t just want to be nice to someone for the sake of being nice, can you?

In my opinion, the problem arises when we view all of our interactions as “transactions.” The idea being that if I give something to someone, there must be an equal and opposite exchange from that person to me, or it’s an unfair deal. In a world dominated by fear, where we’re always scared that there won’t be enough left over for tomorrow, where we’re made to feel like we don’t even have enough for today so that we go out and buy something new – in such a world, it becomes increasingly difficult to operate from a place of selfless love where there is no expectation of anything in return for what I give. The irony is that this kind of giving – the kind with no expectation of reward or recognition in return - tends to be the most satisfying to the soul of the giver!

“Giving” doesn’t necessarily refer to a monetary gift. We often assume that charity is all about the money, and that only when I have enough money saved up in the future will I be able to “afford” to be charitable. That day, quite obviously, will never come. It will always be one bigger amount away. More often than not, some of the greatest deeds of philanthropy tend to be small acts of kindness that often go unnoticed by the public at large. Acts that require me to step out of my obsession with my own life and do something that might make someone else’s journey a tad smoother.

An incident that took place some hours ago got me thinking about all of this. I had just disembarked from a bus at the Kuala Lumpur airport, and had to wrestle with a luggage trolley to extract it from a train of empty trolleys that were jammed together real tight on the kerb. As I swerved away with my hard-earned trolley, I noticed a lady struggling to pull out a trolley for herself. She had a number of luggage pieces with her, delicately balanced one on top of the other on the ground. I left my own trolley and reached out to offer her a helping hand. She appreciated the gesture, and we exchanged smiles. Once she had her trolley, she was gone. I didn’t know who she was and will probably never see her again in my life. But in that moment of assistance, a vibration of kindness and gratitude was created.

There’s kindness, love, and compassion out there in the Universe. Each time we commit a selfless act, help someone in need, or even send out a genuine prayer for someone we don’t really know personally, we’re pulling forth some of that positive energy from Universal Consciousness and bringing it into our world.

It would be an act of charity to improve the quality of every interaction that we have with others in our world. What can we do to bring forth more positive energy into these interactions, and convert the negative energy pockets into free flowing plumes of unconditional love?

The most powerful force in the world is love. And the purest form of love is the unconditional kind. The kind that we think only a saint or God should have. “I’m just human, you know” is the excuse I often hear. If only we would realise that it is our “human”-ness that makes us capable of transcending the boundaries of instinct and mind to love without condition. To love the kind of love that exists only because the heart overflows with compassion for the other being – and for no other reason!

I have come to realise that it is only when I allow myself to give unconditionally, that I will be able to accept unconditionally as well. When my own actions are motivated purely by the extent of what I will get in return, I begin to view another person’s niceness to me from the prism of my selfish world view and am unable to recognize that person’s love for me as genuine. Therefore, in my desperate need to quantify and measure the exchange, I start to look for the ulterior motive. And it’s always easy to come up with one!

Each one of us is capable of functioning from a place of unconditional love. Does our world really have to be “ruthless” like many describe it as? “It’s a jungle out there” is what I’ve heard as well. The truth is that the jungle functions in perfect balance – just the way nature intended it to. Perhaps we need to create the jungle in our world as well, so that we can begin to live together in perpetual harmony rather than constant discord.

Also posted on my blog.

when my time has come...

2011-09-13T16:16:00.000-07:00

whenmy time has come, and I stop for a moment on my journey to look back over myshoulder to see those who have gathered, I wish to see hands up, I wish to hearvoices raised in joyous song, I wish to see smiles and hear laughter... forwhen my time has come, the days and hours and minutes I was blessed to be, willbe to the exact specification of Him, my Creator...

itwill not have been one moment longer or shorter than was precisely planned formy journey...

when my timehas come, hold to all the moments we shared with each other and warm yourselfin these memories we created... sing the silly songs we sang, laugh at eachothers human faults, frailties and missteps...

when my time has come, walk the highways ofour blended journey and stop to take in all that beauty, drink in the knowledgethat we somehow found each other and shared of ourselves...

whenmy time has come, know that I love you, respect you and will always hold you inthe highest regard, for that is what you deserve my friend... know that in ourtimes apart, you are always in my thoughts and never far from my heart...allow your tears to come if you must, but use them only to wash away thesadness and morph into sweet thoughts of glorious elation for all that weshared... my dreams for you will always be with you, coaxing, prodding,supporting...

when my time has come, know that I am just over the horizon, walkingahead on to the next adventure for my soul to experience, but I am also asclose as your next thought of us together... what we share is never lost, onlypacked temporarily away untilthe next time we unwrap the moment and let it touch us again...

good bye's are neverforever, just momentary... know that when it is time for you to take yourjourney, when your time too has come, that I will meet you with outstretchedarms, smiles, laughter and tears of joy as you appear in the distance, witheach step moving closer to our blessed reunion...

posted by Ryan at http://currentripple.blogspot.com/

Everyone is Helping us!

2011-09-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

I have been been thinking about the idea that at soul level everybody is helping us. This implies that everything that happens to us, everyone who is in our life, especially people who are maybe not so nice to us, are helping us to evolve.

This is a difficult concept to grasp, especially when we may be in an unhappy relationship, living in squalid surroundings, in a job we don't like where our collegues are not nice to us. How can these people be helping us?

If you believe in the law of karma, cause and effect, then you may be able to see that if someone is bad to you, they are either having their turn at being the bad guy, since in a previous lifetime you where bad to them. But how do you know this is the case, and is it healthy to just accept bad behaviour on the off chance that you may have done something terrible in another lifetime?

The' Everyone is helping us' idea is a little like the law of Karma but with the difference that on a soul level we have a pre planned life contract and our soul friends agree with you to meet you in this life either as a bad guy or as a good guy in order for you to have a chance to grow. This happens by choosing to react in love instead of in hate. So if I meet someone who is bad to me, If I choose to see this as a chance to evolve, I will not be caught in the blame game and I will be able to move on.

Easier said than done. We have now been given a chance to finally put all karma to rest, not to be born again everything that needs forgiving, released, let go is to happen now. Therefore wasting time in being angry with someone, feeling sorry for ourselves and holding grudges just keeps us stuck.

So next time you catch yourself feeling 'human' try and remember that at soul level everyone is helping us. We can ask for God's grace if we find it impossible to move past our own closed vision, that we are humans having a spiritual expereince for we are indeed spiritual beings having a human experience.

Astonishing light

2011-09-06T01:02:00.000-07:00

Astonishing light

Photo: www.messagenote.com

It was a small thing, really. Just a quick glance, a social smile shared between strangers walking into a building. He politely held the door in a gentlemanly manner, allowing me to precede him inside. Yet something about him seemed sad to me. We separated in the foyer of the building, going in opposite directions. I accomplished the business that I came there to do and walked back outside.

It was a stultifying, hot summer day. We were in the grip of a killing heat wave and drought at the time, so I wasn't inclined to linger in the parking lot. Yet, I did linger. I glanced about and noticed an ornamental park with benches in the shade. I can't explain why I chose to walk in that direction and sit on one of those benches, but I did it. The heat was oppressive, so much that not even the wildlife seemed to have the energy to make accustomed nature sounds. It was quiet in the manner only a humid summer day can be.

Perhaps five minutes after I sat down, steps approached and paused, causing me to look up. It was the man with the sad eyes, holding two frosty bottles of water.

"Can I join you?"

I smiled and nodded, and he offered me one of those bottles of water.

"I saw you through the foyer window and thought something cold might be appreciated," he said.

I accepted the kind gesture and we began to chat. I could tell something was beneath the surface causing his eyes to look sad, but I didn't probe or press. He was kind and cordial, and the conversation was pleasant. We discovered a few things in common, discussed the local area, and drank our cold water in the shade, sitting on that park bench. It occurred to me that I had snacks in my purse and I pulled out two packages of those cheese crackers with peanut butter. When I offered him one, he appeared to be delighted.

"A feast!" was his comment. We munched in companionable silence. Another several minutes passed, with more conversation.

Finally, he looked at me with a very serious expression.

"Today, I was going to go home and turn the gas stove on in my kitchen, blow out the pilot light and let nature take its course. I felt that I had no other choice. I went into that building to visit my lawyer and make sure all my legal papers were in order so that my family would be taken care of."

This was the cause of the sadness behind his eyes. I knew that whatever was happening in his life, I was not qualified to counsel him properly and I said as much. He smiled, shook his head and placed a hand over my own.

"You're imminently qualified, young lady. There's a light about you. A brightness in your smile that you shared with me when we both walked into that building. You didn't have to even look at me, but you took a moment to acknowledge me...and really SEE me. It mattered, and I wanted to thank you. I was hoping I would see you before you left that building. And somehow, I got lucky."

We talked some more, and he revealed that his business had failed due to the lagging economy. His house went into foreclosure and he wasn't able to continue to pay for his two kids' college tuition. I didn't have a lot of advice to offer; mostly, I just listened. He was a lovely man. Clearly intelligent, well spoken, obviously very well mannered, and just as obviously tormented on a very elemental level. We did not know one another at all, save for that unexpected meeting at the front door of an office building, and a shared impromptu drink and snack on a park bench. For me, it was a moment to simply be there for another person who was troubled. I never once felt uncomfortable, or pressed to create a miracle. I didn't have that power. This man's life was in an admittedly challenging place. I doubted seriously that anything I could offer could make much of a difference. What I did know was that listening was something I could do. So, that's what I did.

We lingered there for about 90 minutes, in that humid summer day. I refrained from using the word "should" in any part of that conversation, simply because I strongly felt that he didn't need to hear what I thought he should do. I figured he had probably heard many "you should's" as he struggled to cope with the challenges in his life. I did ask him to seek some form of counseling, because the thought of this very kind man ending his life alone, defeated and sad was heart breaking. I also asked him to take my phone number and promise me that he would text me, at the very least, for the next five days, so that I knew he hadn't given in to the temptation of his earlier plan to end his life. He agreed to this request.

Eventually, our conversation ended. We sat in silence and he finally looked at me and smiled again. To my eyes, it appeared that the sadness had eased somewhat behind his eyes.

He stood and offered a firm handshake, then gathered the debris of our water bottles and snack wrappers. He took them to a garbage can, then returned to walk with me towards our cars in the parking lot.

I wanted to hug him, but refrained because I didn't want to presume or cause any awkwardness. We stopped at my car and I smiled and reminded him of his promise to text me for five days.

"I will do that. In return, I want you to promise me that if a day hits for you in the future where you feel sad, or defeated, or that you're not making a mark on the world, promise me that you'll call me. Maybe then I can return the favor. You made a difference today, and you did it with a smile and being a genuinely beautiful person. God bless you."

And with that, he put a hand briefly on my shoulder, then he walked away to his own car. In the proceeding five days, I received a single text each day that said, simply, "I'm still here." On the sixth day, the text that came said, "I'm smiling again."

These days, he occasionally sends a random text, and we have developed a friendship that is solid. I have met his family; his children are now back in college, and he and his wife are in a stable living situation. He is in a different career and seems to be recovering well.

Why am I relating this story? I don't know. I actually thought that I would never share it on a public level. I never felt it was my story to reveal. And for the most part, I remain devoted to protecting this friend's privacy by not giving his name or any other personal information. The other day, I read a quote on Facebook that has always been one of my favorites. It was on my sidebar on my Facebook page and it was from the "On this day in 2010, this was your status..." section.

This is what my status was on that day in 2010:

I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being. - Hafiz

Obviously, I found that quote to be beautiful when I posted it to my Facebook wall in 2010, and when I saw the repeat post on my sidebar, I was prompted to share this story. I posted the quote again on my Facebook wall, and added this comment:

*How's that for a good reminder of our own beauty?*

I didn't have any special skills, or any magical answers for this gentleman that I met unexpectedly that summer day. Something...a set of circumstances...brought us together and I was led to take the steps that I did. Happily, they resulted in a positive outcome, with not only this man choosing a different outcome, but with a genuine friendship that continues to this day. The above Hafiz quote was a good reminder to me that many times, we're given chances to make a difference. And sometimes, that difference can occur just from sharing that "astonishing light of our own being". Sometimes, many times, that alone is more than enough to make a profound difference.

_______________________________

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

What is your Reality?

2011-08-30T02:32:00.000-07:00

It is nearly the end of the month, but more importantly we are approaching the end of the old, the end of all that we have held to be true.

For myself all the old ways of being, thinking, reacting are finding their way to the surface and making their last plea for survival. There are more arguments, more misunderstandings but whereas the people I am involved with who are my greatest teachers,hold on to the interactions as a cause to blame, seek revenge and keep the negativity alive, I know that they are just the last remnants of my old self, being played out.Of course I can quite easily be taken prisoner and stay locked in a prison with my supporting actor, but I have learnt to quickly dismiss this scenario as an illusion and move on, even if my accomplice does not.

What is important to remind yourself at this time is that others are mirroring the last remnants of the old in you and there is no need to do any 'work' on yourself but just release it to allow the new to take hold. The more you are conscious of this the less chance there is to keep re-creating dramas that keep both of you locked in the old.

This is where relationships will either break or become stronger. By releasing all anger and revenge you are free to be all that you were meant to be. This could help to bring a new lightness to a relationship, the other basking in your light, allowing theirs to shine through. Or if the other is just not at that place yet, they will find it increasingly uncomfortable to be in your presence, as you will be a bright reflection of all that they are not and also will on some level know that they need to do the work and they are just not willing to do so.

It will become increasingly difficult for people who have a strong sense of service, who feel they have a mission to save the world. This is not possible anymore for each one of us has been called to make the choice alone. We all have been given free will where we are given the choice of moving to the new where all our creations will find fruition as all is functioning from the heart. Or we can stay where we are in the old functioning in an environment where the energy is of greed, materialism and ego.

People who find themselves torn, wanting to help their loved ones to move on to a place they know exists, will increasingly find they are continuously been disrespected, their creations even though they are heart felt will not take hold in this old energy and will become disillusioned and depressed.

It is a time where we all have to become more 'selfish' not in the sense of greed or manipulation but in self love and to fully acknowledge the saying of 'if you don't love yourself you cannot love anyone else'. Also the saying, 'If you love someone let them go.' We are all here on this planet at this time with our own lessons and agendas. The overall theme is love, but we are not meant to meddle in each others lives, however much our need to help.

Last night I had intense dreams of the end of the old world and the beginning of the new world. I cannot remember the details but I 'know' the overall truth. I also 'saw' my deceased mum in my dream sitting at a stadium wearing a baseball cap, with an intense expression of anticipation on her face. I felt she was watching to see what choices I am going to make, what choices we are going to make. The whole Universe is watching us, we are the highlight of the celestial world at the moment. Our decisions are important to them as we are part of the whole, what we do affects the whole.

We are all being lovingly nudged by our guides which we can 'hear' as our sub-conscious to make choices for our higher good. Again it is our choice if we want to listen. We are also being lovingly supported by our non-physical friends of light. We are not alone, but we do need to make the individual decision of where we want our reality to be.

Much love and compassion

Christina xx

Look me in the eyes

2011-08-28T13:42:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Aglet Photography

Eye contact. I wrote a short blurb about this in a recent blog post. I did that because I had had the subject on my mind for several days. It had me pondering and as I said to another friend, when I start thinking, the inevitable outcome is that I start writing.

We all know the old saying that the eyes are the window to the Soul. I agree with this 100%. Each of us is different in the manner that we connect with others. For some of us, making and maintaining eye contact is simple. Just something that you do. For others, it is a challenge, and something to be avoided at all costs. This is a protective mechanism, and usually happens for good reason. If you delve deeply enough with those who are careful with making eye contact, you will find a lot of trust issues beneath the surface, married to a lot of painful experiences.

I think everyone has heard the old axiom that "the eyes are the window to the soul". Most of us will agree that people who don't make significant eye contact impart a less than trustworthy vibe. This is a snap judgment, of course, and may be an unfair one, depending upon the situation and the individual.

For me, eye contact is important. In every relationship that I have, I want that strong connection to be there. Friendship, family, business connections, as well as more intimate relationships - all need to have that level of connection, trust and the sense that you are being seen, being heard, and being embraced.

Gazing wordlessly into one another's eyes. That is profound. The wordless part is usually what causes people to become skittish and glance away. When you meet a person who doesn't do this, who engages in that gaze without flinching, this is an incredible moment. Thoughts wash through the mind, emotions are triggered, and a sense of being the very center of that person's immediate world exists. Pretty powerful stuff! This creates a level of willing, intentional vulnerability, meaning that you allow yourself to become vulnerable in that moment and with that other person. It also creates a bond, that wordless moment, that is indefinable. And really, definitions aren't always necessary.

That experience, that wordless gaze, is a microcosmic moment that doesn't require anything else. Fleeting, yes. But with lasting impact. Moments such as these can be a catalyst. From one moment to the next, the world changes. Perhaps not in an earth shaking, cataclysmic manner, but change does occur. And thinking follows. Pondering, absorbing, reflecting. All from one long, quiet shared look between two sets of eyes.

We each have those experiences that we remember as being a turning point. Something occurred to stop time, briefly, with enough dramatic force that you felt the shift as a tangible instant. Your own personal earthquake, where those emotional tectonic plates were rearranged, permanently. From a glance, you ask? Yes, for me, from a glance. Well, a look is more to the point, as a glance is of short duration. Maybe a new word needs to be created for that long, steady, quiet, powerful exchange. "Staring" doesn't fit, as it robs the experience of depth and warmth.

Whatever label you choose to apply, there is great value in giving yourself to such a moment. Looking into another person's eyes for long, long moments with no words, no nerves, no agenda, and no reserve is profound.

This was the thought in my last Grasshopper Thoughts post (Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. V, August 2011) that prompted this blog article:

Look me in the eyes when we're together. During conversation, during quiet moments, just a glance is sometimes enough; other times, a long and meaningful moment is profound....show me who you are in this way, and I will do the same. - SDS, August 2011

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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Find Truth through LOVE!

2011-08-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I was told by a fellow blogger to search for what I believe and to stop using other's opinions, quotes, theories etc. I love to read what other people have to say on matters that are important to me. I even admit that their opinions may have helped to develop most of my beliefs.

I have been feeling very restless these past few days. I am very conscious of Moon energies and a New Moon is approaching on ther 28th August. I also 'know' that there are many planetary events taking place in the heavens and even today there are reports of a 'new' planet being discovered made out of diamonds.

I am becoming bombarded by lots of conflicting messages; I am on the one hand reading and channelling angelic, loving energies of having faith and having trust in all happening in Divine perfect order. On the other hand I am reading about the Illuminati- the people in higher places (I suggest you do your own research on this) trying to create a New World Order and creating situations (illusions) in order to keep us from seeing the truth.

What is the truth?

My son came to visit from Cyprus and we had a wonderful 3 weeks together. He is 20 years old and into Christianity. He is not following any particular church but is leaning to the side of everything that is not through Jesus Christ is heresy. Since I have more open minded views he 'lovingly' sees me as a lost soul taken over by the dark side.

We had a couple of 'loving' chats about love, life and peace and I felt I conveyed that where he believes Jesus is God incarnate on Earth to show us how much he loves us, I believe that Christ is a consciousness. I expressed that the Jesus story, whether real in historical fact, is not an issue for me as I believe that it is an allegory about spreading the Light of God, and Jesus is the pure example of this Light.

Of course this became more than a loving chat and we both found ourselves defending our beliefs. I ended the conversation saying that I believe there is One Truth and many ways to this. He replied, 'How do you know? How do you know if you do not have Jesus Christ in your life?'

I replied telling him I have Christ in my heart as we all do, it is the process of opening the heart that helps us to the TRUTH.

I have been ploughing the Internet today and yesterday looking for the TRUTH of what is happening to our planet and the cosmos and to us. I found lots of information, but for some reason I could not read any of it - either it was too scientific, too metaphysical, or too alien- like.

I realised that we need to look for the answers ourselves. The TRUTH is within us, it is in all we are doing, all that we are thinking, all that we are feeling. If I think a certain way this creates a certain truth for me. If I feel a certain way this is an indication of how I have been thinking. If I am doing something that is not in par with who I am, how I feel and how I think, then I am further from the TRUTH.

Keep it simple: Think with love, feel the love and do with love - anything else is less than the TRUTH!

The First Kiss

2011-08-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

The faint smell of damp casually assaults my sinuses as the hard steps make their presence felt on my aching backside.

Neither of these things matter.

The aged stuffiness of the old Theatre in which we sit, and the noise of the kids running about, excitedly bouncing around on the threadbare carpets only add to the excitement of the moment; nothing can take my concentration away from the significance of what I was about to do.

Nothing.

I can hear the muffled sounds of singing. I know they are singing for me. Everything is about me. This moment will travel with me for the rest of my life, having set the wheels in motion for the rollercoaster that my soul will ride upon forever more.

We are in the middle of rehearsing one last time, for the big show that is due to open tomorrow night.

I’m nervous as hell, but really excited about being a part of this year’s Gang Show, a vaudeville style production, traditionally put on by kids from the local Cubs, Brownies and Guides, as well as my Scout troop. I’ve even got a couple of speaking parts and I can’t wait to get the show started.

I am 12, and I feel like I was born for the stage. I am one night away from stardom, and ready for the fame. I already dance at my Cousin’s dance school, so I felt at ease as soon as we began transferring our rehearsals to the actual stage. As long as nothing comes along and distracts me now, I know I will be a huge name in musicals one day.

What my acting career probably doesn’t need is a distraction such as sitting on these steps right now, holding Karen’s hand and looking into her eyes.

As the rehearsals progressed, I became increasingly friendly with Karen. I’d found myself wanting to spend more time hanging around with her than fighting and playing with my male friends, though I wasn’t really sure why. Then, earlier on today, she held my hand.

Right there in the Wings, as we waited for the next song to start.

And now we are wordlessly sitting on these hard damp stairs, backstage at the Newark Palace Theatre.

Suddenly, her face grew closer.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingle and stretch, as time adamantly refuses to tick by.

Her face grew closer.

My knee trembles as fear explodes through my nervous system.

Her face grew closer.

I stop breathing, I stop hearing. I am no longer here. The singing, the children’s chatter, and even the damp have all gone. I am nowhere.

Her face stops moving.

Somewhere, deep down in my genetic coding, I know it is all up to me from here, I am the man and the next move will have to come from me. I am going to have to man up and get on with it.

Right now.

Right here.

I am going to have to kiss a girl.

I pause as I recall the bag of pickled onion Monster Munch I ate earlier, but it is too late to worry about that now, because the fracture in time is about to heal itself. I can put it off no longer. I’ve learned all that I can possibly learn from my friends about kissing; now I’m going to have to put it all into practise.

My eyes close as my lips part and move, with a false confidence, toward hers.

The softness of her lips can only be bettered by their taste. I explode with the power of this brand new connection that links Karen’s heart to my own.

I am distracted. The world blinks out of focus for an eternity as the software in my brain rewrites itself. With its return, a new world order is born. My priorities have changed forever, because I have just learned something that will dominate my every thought for the rest of time.

I’ve finally worked out what girls are for.

Also posted at www.realbloggersunited.blogspot.com by me, because I can

Coming up for air

2011-08-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

So I go back and look over my various blogs, writing commitments, etc. and realize it has been months since I wrote much of anything publicly. A lot of that that time was spent on Facebook, and some of you may have noticed that I recently deleted my account. The reasons why are perhaps hard to explain clearly, but I'll do my best.

Over the past decade I had allowed my community to become mostly virtual. This was the result of a lot of things, both circumstantial and through my own actions. The shape of my social life had become very narrow and isolated. Then when "real life" impinged upon my routine I realized that I needed some real life connection, and that my digital family was dangerously ephemeral. Nothing personal against you, if this includes you - just that I needed to reach out to people I could actually feel, see, and hear. I had been a political/social/pop culture blog junkie through the oughties, and gone more or less cold turkey to save my sanity; I realized I was repeating the same problem with Facebook, and had to cut myself off.

I currently live in a rural area where my main social interaction is limited to immediate family and longtime family friends. I still write but am in something of a state of hibernation -- I think that the habit of putting everything out there straight from the skull without any editing is not always productive. Sometimes you have to refine your thinking in solitude, so that when you are finally ready to say something you are delivering the best you have to offer, and aren't burdening your readers with filtering your output. If you make a habit of delivering quantity over quality, your readers are liable to ta ke you for granted. That is assuming you have any.

About once a week I head back into the city to hang out with my daughter. That part is great, but I am constantly reinforced in my dislike of city life. Maybe I'll go back to that kind of living eventually, but at the moment it doesn't seem appealing -- the high stress, high stakes, dehumanizing, brutal crush and thrust of it all. Out here, even the most important tasks get done when they get done; the main urgency is to live and be a human being. What other value is there? We walk slower here, talk slower here, think slower, make eye contact, eat together, laugh together...ironically with so much solitude available we are seldom alone. People are not as numb to one another out here. Sometimes they even talk to strangers.

standing in our own sunshine...

2011-08-23T10:07:00.000-07:00

Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I stumbled across this quote today and it shot right through my brain... such a simple phrase of words, but they carry such weight and substance... who of us hasn't cast a shadow on our own life by standing in our own sunshine, blocking out the sparkle of our being and accomplishments... how quickly we are taught to take the shine off so as to not stand out too brightly against the rest of the pack... perhaps it was the words of a parent who crippled our ability to take center stage by casting doubt on our own skills... maybe the harsh words of a critic after a performance... the sting of a review after a heart based piece of prose was written... why do we never allow ourselves to be enough, even when we know we are enough...

our foundations are built and sunk into bedrock able to withstand any storm that encompasses us... foundations unshakable in the midst of life's chaotic tide... stronger than steel and more solid than bedrock.. but it takes one external voice, one opinion that what we have done is less than it could be, for those foundations to be wrenched from their moorings and leave us broken and hiding in the shadows...

why do we not grasp that what we are capable of and what we put forth is valuable

because we took the chance to dream...

natural progression of skill notwithstanding, our projects, our endeavors, our lives are valuable just as they are, because we are valuable... if we take the time to create, if we nurture, if we write or sing or paint, who is to say what we have done is less than... every brush stroke, every word written, every child nurtured, is by it's very action, blessed and holy in itself, worthy of praise and celebration...

would we stand at the shore and say that the tide should ebb and flow more smoothly, do we face the starry sky and request they be presented more orderly, do we critique the flight of the Eagle as inferior...

we routinely create and cast the shadows over our own abilities, dulling them down, pushing away the accolades of a job well done, leaving ourselves devoid of the joy of self and wholeness...

we need to remove the ability to discredit our own worth, and I know this is a difficult road to walk... perhaps the weight of abuse or neglect hangs heavy in our hearts, perhaps it is a long passed decision or mistake that haunts our thoughts, possibly a shouldering of regret at what could have or should have been.. if only... lay down the weight, and run free of the entanglements of this world, for moments past can never be undone and thus need to be filed away so as to serve only as a guide for the next mountain in our path...

let our new mantra be one of worthiness and character, competence and acceptance...

strip away the coverings and allow your true glowing colours to burst forth...

stop casting your own shadows, step forward and allow all the brilliance of who you are

to shine brighter than the rays of the sun...

embrace what you have created, embrace what you are capable of and

never let this gift be tarnished by any outside perspective...

we are glorious by the nature that we exist, whole and perfect and extraordinary...

refuse to be held back by yourself or anyone else, you deserve that much for your soul..

let those shadows cast before dissolve into completeness and perfection,

for this is how you were made... this is your right and your intention...

change...

2011-08-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

change...

to some a nasty word... leading to a shift of comfort zone, the requirement to learn something new, a stirring up of the status quo...
to some a word filled with hope, looking forward to different circumstances which may be better than the current one...
to some a chance to grow and stretch, to move out of ones safety zone and embrace the future... change = opportunity...

for a great number of us, change equals resistance or a "heels dug in firmly in refusal" to shift out of the current and into something unknown... some of us hold so tightly to where we are, that nothing can dynamite us forward, thus losing the opportunities that this forward movement brings into our lives... stuck by fear, by indecision, or even by the "well we have always done it this way" mentality, so robs us of experiences that can and should enrich our lives... change = fear...

it seems that nothing ever stays the same.. a drive down the street reveals an empty lot where a building stood just 24 hours earlier... a turn at the next corner shows a new condo development... the world economy on it's roller coaster ride... the fast pace of technology where your newest toy is old by tomorrow... right down to the look of your Blog page... always refreshing, changing it up, keeping it fresh, keeping it new...
I think they need to update (change) that old saying that there are only 2 things in this life that are guaranteed, Death and Taxes.. well how about adding "Change" to that list...

I am always fascinated by people's reaction to moving forward and making changes... hell it feels like you fall off the grid if you don't keep up with it all these days... but why do some of us resist change so ferociously... especially when making those adjustments is for the good... I myself can count numerous times when I have also, bucked the changes, refused to get in line... soon enough to be standing on my own as the rest of the crowd moves off into the distance... don't get me wrong, I have no issues with swimming my own stream, but what holds me back, what locks my feet into inaction...

I know that I am getting better at looking at the big picture and basing my willingness to change on that, rather than a knee jerk immediate rebuff and steadfast resistance... is it wisdom, is it an eagerness to stretch and gather in all the experiences this life has to offer, even if that means stepping out into the unknown?

Am I shedding my fears and replacing that with something deeper, a sense of being strong enough and able to take on what comes at me, dealing with the off chance that some obstacles will need to be overcome along the way.

Ultimately, with whatever accompanies the waves of changes that wash over our lives, it is still a journey of discovery, that chance to learn and listen, teach and speak of our experiences with one another... a movement of ideas, of physical location, of spiritual practice and of new thoughts embraced...

open the door to something different, analyze and dissect, teach yourself something new and become changed in the process...

other posts can be found at my Blog Current Ripple http://currentripple.blogspot.com/

Mirrored affirmation

2011-08-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.invitinghome.com

I have a dear friend that I think I have loved more moments than I can count through the mists of time. We don't often get the chance to spend large blocks of time together these days, as life is hectic and family, work and responsibilities cut into leisure time. This week, we were lucky to connect and spend a good portion of a whole day together and it was just sublime.

This girl is someone that I trust implicitly. She's a true heart friend in those indefinable ways that build a solid friendship. We've found over the years that we either tend to mirror experiences in our respective lives, or one of us is just completing a cycling of an experience that the other is just embarking upon. In this way, this reflection provides guidance and a sounding board for both of us, when we have sufficient time to spend together and really get caught up.

Our recent afternoon and evening was that proverbial breath of fresh air for me. We played, which is always good for the Soul. We saw a theatrical production that some friends both acted in and directed, then we had a late meal and stayed downtown to watch another theatrical production on Knoxville's Market Square. In between all of this, we shared what we had both been doing since we were last together. Much time had passed since then, so there was a great deal to cover, and cover it, we did.

She is in a truly good place in her life. Settled, with someone she loves, her work life is growing and prospering and she carries that special glow that one does when everything is falling into place in Divine Order. Knowing her as I do, I was so happy to see her this happy, calm and peaceful....both inside and out.

The even greater beauty of it all was that she became a mirror for me. This time, she is finishing this particular cycle....or rather, she is sojourning it....ahead of me. Listening to her words and description of the steps, the decisions, the emotional healing she processed to get herself to that higher, more level place of allowing....it gave me that mirror. That road map or template of sorts. Because I am not that far behind her on a similar path, everything she was sharing was resonating brightly for me. I could see the logical steps she had taken, hear the wisdom in her choices and actions, and absorb the clear outcome. She is happy.

This reflection she gave me instilled hope in a new way for me. Mind you, it is never difficult for me to focus on positives. I tend to be a fairly sunny natured individual, and prefer to focus on those good, happy, uplifting moments. That being said, I flounder like everyone else when it comes to personal dreams, hopes and wishes. We are all so adept at getting in our own way for these goals, and I am no different. I do have conscious intent, however, to be fully, mindfully engaged in my own growth. What a lovely thing when I am given a gift of recognizing that this growth need not be so onerous, challenging or difficult!

Spending time with someone that I truly love and enjoy was the first gift. Nothing polishes up the heart more than that type of interaction, basking in the sheer enjoyment of someone dear to you. The second gift was being shown that reflection....that example that, "Look, this is how I did it, and it worked out beautifully." Sometimes the strongest lessons don't have to be imparted through bloody struggle and painful experiences. They can be, but I don't think it's necessary 100% of the time. What can be better than to witness someone a few steps ahead of you on a similar path, charting and negotiating their journey with determination, conscious application of intent and relative ease so that you may mirror their actions and experience a similar manifestation of ease?

Mirrors reflect. That is their purpose. We can choose to see through a warped lens and intentionally misread that reflection, or we can choose to gaze with clear eyes at the image. That's my choice, gazing clearly, and engaging with purpose. And the best part of this conscious process is that a day spent with someone I love gave me a mirrored confirmation and affirmation for where my own life is heading. In her happiness, I see a reflection of possibilities, and I embrace them.

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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

What is happening in the UK?

2011-08-09T13:31:00.001-07:00

What is happening in the UK?
Watching the news today and yesterday I am very sadened at what is happening with our youth. They are looting, setting businesses and homes on fire, assaulting others and having total disregard for authority or others. It was quite frightening today when I was parked in Bearwood High Street in Birmingham. All the shops where shutting down, on advice from the police. I felt the fear thick in the air.

I have been more sadened by the response from people though. Yes, these young people are totally out of order, they are abusing and violating laws and boundaries and it must be very frightening and devastating for the people who have lost through these riots. But, what saddens me the most is how people write off these youths as 'ferral', 'vermin'.

I replied to a facebook comment that suggested that these young people needed a good smack to learn respect. I responded that they would not learn respect from a smack and maybe the youth were reflecting a general unrest in all mankind and through their actions, however wrong, were gaining public airing for something to be done about it. The response I received showed me that people have a lot to say about wrong doing, giving themselves as examples of good behaviour, but are not willing to be a part in the promoting of the peace.

What do I think is happening in the bigger scheme of things?

There is a lot of cosmic energy aiding the moving forward of our new world. Whatever does not match the new has to go. Unfortunately, this comes out in chaos, destruction and loss. There has to be a clean slate for the light to take hold.

Why the young?

The young are the ones that will lead the new world. They are embodying more light but darkness hangs around waiting to embody what matches it. Unfortunately, there is so much that matches it in what the young watch, play and do, that this causes alot of collision.

If more people could hold on to the end result, i.e. the progressing into the light, without getting too involved in the drama (difficult if the riots directly affect you) then big change can happen quickly with not too much heartache. But on saying that heartache can be another catalyst in pulling people together. The world has its eyes on the UK at the moment and feels our pain.

It will be interesting to see what comes out of this - unity or more separation?

Partly Sleeping

2011-08-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Photo - www.senlfy.deviantart.com

Have you ever had the sense that after some unexpected experience hits your personal horizon, you look back and realize that part of you had been sleeping up until that moment? I have reflected on this for years. It has happened to me countless times and never fails to capture my attention with each new occurrence.

A simple analogy would be when you buy a new car and suddenly you see that same model, same color car everywhere you go. Prior to purchasing that new vehicle, you never before noticed so many of the same car everywhere you traveled. Your eyes and your consciousness have been newly awakened to that recognition, where before, part of you had been sleeping.

This holds true with endless layers of who we are, where our lives are heading, where we have been. When a new person comes into our lives, and love occurs, we are stunned that we lived our whole lives without that love up until that meeting. This applies to friendship, to family and to intimate love, as well as to new experiences, studies, dreams, etc. It is almost beyond acceptance, once the love is realized, to ken how we survived without it for so long. Our heart was partly sleeping, waiting for that arrival of that person or that experience to wake up that spot that was reserved exclusively for them/it.

Talents lie partly sleeping also. Sometimes they awaken with a jarring crash, startling us with the all consuming need to dive in and embrace the newness, turn it in our hands and make a mark on the world with it. Other times, those talents are merely dormant, waiting for occasional awakening. This happens for me with various artistic endeavors. I can go for months at a time without any need to be creative beyond my daily writing. Then something happens to awaken the partly sleeping Muse and I hit a frenzy of creativity, producing a wide range of artistic expressions.

To me, it is an endless joy to discover something new to love....about myself, and about the people around me. Relationships are rarely static, and even in strife, we learn and grow. Areas that had been partly sleeping within the context of relationships are regularly nudged awake. We are never truly allowed to rest smugly on our laurels in that regard, and I see that as a positive. Complacency hasn't ever been a behavior that I embrace. I tend to be very active about communication so that all parties concerned can be clear and present with one another. I fail at this, sometimes rather spectacularly, but the intent is always to be present and aware. Because of this, I find that I am also equally aware when an area that had been partly sleeping suddenly awakens. For me, it is a tangible thing, something I can physically sense and feel stirring. I do my best to pay attention to that stirring, so that I recognize it for what it is. It's when I ignore the sensation that I tend to bump my toes a wee bit, so I do my best to be mindful.

Recently, in perhaps the past six months, I've had a whole slew of partly sleeping areas come to full wakefulness. These awakenings have spanned a wide range of experiences and relationships, some providing challenges to overcome, and all of them broadening my sense of Self and growing those newly awakened spots in my heart. I have a fanciful image in my mind's eye of early morning hush coming softly awake, birds beginning to chirp, dew glistening on grass, trees and flowers in a private meadow that exists uniquely for my Soul to process these occurrences. Oddly, this same meadow is a place I visit when I meditate, so who is to say it doesn't exist in some metaphysical manner. The awakening of partly sleeping facets is the important thing to experience, to be aware of as it occurs. I've never been a proponent of walking through life in an unconscious manner, so this awakening process is one that I enjoy. I learn so much about myself as a result. I've spoken about that endless refining of Self, of Soul, that we do on a daily basis. The concept I am speaking of here, of "partly sleeping" is just a metaphor for that daily growth we all experience.

The world is largely expansive, rather than contractive, and so are we as people. We are here to grow and learn, to push boundaries and embrace new experiences. With that in mind, I imagine that we are gifted with endless ability to expand as yet unknown partly sleeping facets. Traits, experiences, thoughts, loves and more. It is a satisfying thought to me, because it means we are never truly finished. We never learn it all, never experience it all....and at the heart of this thought is Love.

Through the waxing and waning, the ebb and flow of every experience, Love is the vital force at work. Sometimes it lies sleeping for years before the awakening occurs, but that space for that particular love...be it a person, a place or an experience...that space was always there, inside us, waiting for that awakening. We drift from one awakening to the next, continually learning. And the beauty is that there will always be another moment when something that was partly sleeping is nudged, gently or urgently, to come alive and take full occupancy of that space in our hearts. I just really like that.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

of white roses...

2011-08-07T16:33:00.000-07:00

her gown, soft and snowy white against a curtain of green,

a cascade of petals shimmering in the summer rays like layers of petticoats,

the soft gentle scent of her perfume wafts on the current, greeting those who stop to greet her...

like an old friend she is there to welcome them with an upturned smile...

his embrace encompasses her in one quick moment, a return of a summer friend,

her dance partner, her suitor... she is happy and begins to sway in his gentle grasp...

two unlikely partners

lost in the magic of meeting again...

he takes her hand, and they being their dance again, moving to and fro with no regard for who is watching them, they resume their dance as they have done across the years together,

he softly guiding her into a waltz of gentle affection...

she nods, they sway and lose themselves in each other for this graceful moment... of white roses...

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. V, August 2011

2011-08-05T09:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't grasshoppered in a while. I never know when the urge will hit me, and today was the day. I find this exercise to be useful when my head....my life, for that matter....is too jumbled up with stress to allow me to focus on one specific topic. This allows me to skitter about, skim from one thought to the next and do some mental house cleaning. So, here are the grasshopper thoughts that struck today.

When I breathe from my heart, it is never a mistake.

Sometimes the simple act of that breathing from the heart is the most challenging thing on earth to do. I still do it.

Locking the car w/ the keys in the ignition and my purse and cell phone still inside the car is going to happen occasionally. I look at it as a reminder to slow down. Usually that happens after I throw a bit of a conniption.

I can love someone sincerely, but also not like who they are. The two are not mutually exclusive and both teach me acceptance….of myself and that other person.

The art of kissing should never be underestimated; view it instead as profoundly valuable. Seriously.

Banana flavored popsicles might be bad for you because of all the sugar, but they sure bring a smile.

When I was wee, my Grandpa assured me that fairies lived where wisteria bloomed. To this day, I still believe, and I still glance about on occasion to search them out.

I have accepted that having a poor sense of direction doesn’t make the world stop turning.

Look me in the eyes when we’re together. During conversation, during quiet moments, just a glance is sometimes enough, other times, a long and meaningful moment is profound….show me who you are in this way, and I will do the same.

Embracing manners will always matter to me. Call it old fashioned, but I find it a beautiful expression of respect and, to me, it is worthy of continuing.

I will never understand the concept of curling as a sport. I get that it's a venerable sport, with rich history and culture behind it. I'll even watch it during the Olympics (because I watch everything during the Olympics), but I remain mystified.

Sometimes blackberries make the world a better place. It’s that simple.

Those are my grasshopper thoughts for the day. There are more, of course.....always. That's the nature of grasshopper thoughts. They're always lurking and leaping about. These are the ones I managed to corral and wrestle onto the screen.

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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Journey to Joplin

2011-08-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

I started blogging by writing about a pilgrimage to a monastery, but recently I made a pilgrimage of a different kind to the town where I was born--Joplin, Missouri. I had already bought my ticket to Joplin for a 4th of July family reunion before the May 22nd tornado. My parents, as well as numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins, live in or near Joplin. I flew in at dusk and I picked out with relative ease the bright, busy lights at the intersection of Range Line and I-44, and I could see the twinkling lights and tree-covered streets of Joplin as we flew over. It was also easy to spot a wide brown scar cutting through the heart of Joplin which had no lights, no trees, no greenery. The F-5 tornado had carved a six-mile-long path of destruction, at times almost a mile wide, which left more than 150 people dead, 7,000 homes destroyed, and 18,000 cars totaled.
But if the aerial view was astonishing, the view on the ground was shocking. Standing at ground zero—say, at 20th and Connecticut, or near St. Mary’s Catholic Church, or across from Joplin High School—it looked like a bomb had exploded from horizon to horizon, as far as the eye could see. There actually was a “ground zero” since many survivors described the eye of the storm passing over them, an eerie calm both preceded and followed by deadly 200 mph winds.
When I reached my parents’ house, I sifted through issues of The Joplin Globe that my mom had saved, which included the photographs of all those who had died: The three men with Down Syndrome-- who lived in a group home and died there together--Mark Farmer, Rick Fox, and Tripp Miller. A friend of Mark’s wrote that he rejoiced “in 1 Corinthians 13:10 as they now have perfect bodies.” http://www.neoshodailynews.com/joplin-tornado/x1534029702/Neosho-family-survives-Joplin-tornado-in-car
Will Norton, a teenager who had just left his high school graduation and was sucked out of his car. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVSeptS3kec His sister shared that it would only be a short time until Will saw them again because life is so short and “time goes fast in heaven.” Rusty Howard, who was found in Home Depot holding his five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son in his arms. The Pizza Hut manager, Christopher Lucas, who led everyone to safety in a walk-in freezer and struggled to hold the door shut before he died. Another father of two, Randy England, who had been laid off from the La-Z-Boy Factory in November which was, his wife said, a blessing in disguise because he had spent the remaining time with his family. He also was leading a mother and children to safety in Home Depot when he was killed. There are many stories of people who died while sacrificing themselves for others, and many more stories of those who came to the rescue of those who were trapped and injured.
While volunteering at Forest Park Baptist Church, I met the grandmother of two children who died. She told me she had received a phone call soon after the tornado struck from her daughter and son-in-law informing her that one of her grandchildren was dead, and the other was “going fast.” She told me the family had good moments and bad moments, but prayer was getting her through. “I pray all the time,” she said. “It’s all God.”
Two other children were in the car with their grandmother in the parking lot of Home Depot when the tornado struck. The grandmother told the children to start praying, and ten-year-old Mason Lillard was comforted by the angels she said she could see. Mason was pierced by an iron bar but survived.
Harmony Heights Baptist Church across from Joplin High School was holding its Sunday evening service when the tornado struck. Three members were killed, while the other fifty or so members were trapped in the debris. A group of young people arrived on the scene soon after and began pulling the members from the rubble. On a Harmony Heights Baptist Church newsletter is the following:
Devotion for the morning of May 22
Jeremiah 17:17 Do not be a terror to me; you are my refuge in the day of disaster. “Thou art my HOPE in the day of evil.”
Also posted on Strange Islands

In Hindsight

2011-08-04T06:54:00.000-07:00

I realize the effort to defend my ego is a lot bigger than the effort to simply keep quiet. I also find that in either case, I can be equally incorrect.

I have found that when in my younger years, if someone said, “Here, try this”–and it was not a yummy treat, it probably was not in my best interest.

Every challenge always pays off– Always. You just have to realize that in hindsight.

The things I thought made me feel cool then, often make me feel silly now.

I would have never gotten that perm if I could have seen my senior picture beforehand. (See previous.)

Some of your best friendships do not end–they go into hibernation.

Whatever people feel they need to take drugs for can be achieved without them.

The best title I have ever held is “Daddy.” (And that it took my wife to achieve this title–and still does.)

Upon reflection, when we say we were “born this way”– that should only pertain to the good stuff. The rest we learned.

Being a loser is someone else’s opinion that I do not have to agree with.

I can understand and be compassionate to something without agreeing with it.

Kids and golf can be the most fun you will ever have being pissed off.

God would never forsake me, I would forsake God. (God waited for my return.)

It is okay to love someone and they not love you back–just don’t do it on their property after dark.

I should have listened more to what I didn’t want to listen to.

I also should have kept my mouth shut a lot more.

Most of the worst stuff I feared I created. (Often it would never arrive.)

I see that most of the stuff that I spent most of my time trying to get; I no longer have, and no longer need.

I also see that most of what I ever needed was always there, I was too busy looking in the wrong places.

Wounds heal.

Love returns. (Not that it ever really goes away.)

You can’t be totally present always looking back in hindsight.

From Artisan of the Human Spirit

freedom to be me...

2011-08-03T09:16:00.000-07:00

the journey starts with the "freedom "from" me"...

the ability to lay down my fears, my wants, my needing to be thinner, richer, taller, more humorous, live in a bigger house... the freedom to be me without all that our own minds say is important, more important than who we really are... the keeping up with the Joneses so to speak... the lack of being complete and happy with what we have been given... talents, speech, sight, food, shelter, employment... be gracious for what is before you and not what you think you need to have in order to be who you think you need to be... for all that we lust for, new car, larger home, better job all to soon becomes familiar... and then we move the milestone again... think of your last new car... no one could eat it in, drink in it, wear dirty shoes in it... for the first year.... now it's just your car... where does the race stop... which milestone becomes enough... a million dollars... maybe it needs to be 2 million... maybe 5... what or when is enough...

the freedom to be me allows for a world of opportunity to be lain at my feet... those moments to be truly thankful, free of wants and desires, just moments of being truly blessed and being content with that... quit complaining about the new job you wished for and received only to find out the hours are longer and the people not quite as nice... quit moaning about having to clean the huge new house you prayed for and received... happiness grows from within and if we can learn to let go, get ourselves out of the way and be content, the whole meaning of our lives becomes crystal clear... all this stuff that we do, not to please ourselves, but to look good in the eyes of someone else, slowly robs us of the joy our lives are meant to be filled with...

but this is our life's work... to free ourselves from the stranglehold our "want" machine has on us... just don't give up.... never give up... even if you die trying... to never have begun the journey is far worse than stumbling along the way and ever reaching for deep down peace...

the freedom to be me, allows me to greet you and be thankful for who you are, not "what" you are, or what you perceive yourself to be...

meet me face to face, and being to being without all of our bling and possessions in tow, as that is the person I am interested in... let me care about your smile and the warmth of your arms as they embrace me, let me see Heaven in your eyes and hear the melody of your heart... show me who you are and I will honour you in the same way... lift me up and I shall carry you also...

love me as I shall love you... free to be... me... and you...

also posted on my Blog (http://currentripple.blogspot.com/)

Week 30-Lesson 30: Open Up to Fear

2011-08-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

I thought if I traveled, I'd find something. Maybe I'd find God. Maybe someone out there could ease the difficulties of life. You know, I used to talk to God. I'd often ask him (her?), "What should I do?" Often times I'd close my eyes and pray very hard. I didn't want to not know where I was going. I needed to be reassured. I needed to know if things would work out.

But no answer came.

And then one day, when I least expected it, after a long run around the neighborhood, a crystal clear voice said, "You know what to do." The voice was strong and reassuring. But I didn't feel strong and I didn't feel I was any closer to knowing what I was meant to do in this world.

I wanted to follow that voice. I wanted to know it intimately. I wanted to understand where it came from. What if I went the wrong way? What if I did the wrong things? What if I made mistakes? What if people didn't like what I was doing?

I was afraid. I didn't have any answers. I made a lot of mistakes in life (and I'm still making them). I fell down quite a bit. I was not a happy person and I didn't respect myself nor did I believe I had anything positive to offer the world. Still, I could not forget that clear voice that came to me on that fall day of my senior year in high school while running down a narrow path flanked with bright orange and yellow maple leaves. The air was crisp, but the late sun shone on my face and filled me with an incredible warmth. But it did not last.

After high school I traveled all over the world searching for that voice. I traveled to Mexico, South America, Asia, India, etc. I meditated, I practiced yoga and once again, in deep silence, I basked in that inner warmth and stillness I had felt for those few moments in high school. For a time, I attributed these feelings to a certain practice. I believed that something outside me--the environment, an organization, a teacher, a guru, God--made me feel like this. Without this practice or a certain environment, I thought that this peace and this joy could not last.

I don't know exactly when things changed. I don't recall the exact day when I understood that voice or when I overcame my fear. I think it was gradual. Meditation helped, yoga helped, walks in nature helped, writing helped, friends helped, books helped--I am grateful for so many things that aided me on my path and gave me the courage to open up.

But that voice. The one that said, "You know what to do." It didn't come from God or Buddha or yoga or meditation or my husband or my friends or my family or anything else. All of these people and things played a part in understanding these words.

"You know what to do," came from me.

Not the Katherine Jenkins "me," but the one that is opened and fearless. The one that is not separate. The one that is connected to everything.

Also on my blog Lessons from the Monk I Married

How I Began to Create My Destiny: A Story in Ignoring the “Can’t”

2011-08-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

I have always been rather over-sensitive. Even when I was young, I was prone to boredom, bordering on depression. Inquisitive, but unsatisfied. Somehow I made it through the rigors of high-school and its social life. Once I got into a good college, I proceeded to get more and more lax--after all of my hard efforts, I reckoned I deserved a break. Plus, I was tired of my good girl image and wanted to be reckless.

This mentality continued to dis-serve me throughout college. The harder I worked, the harder I played. During my sophomore year’s specialized program geared towards over-achievers, I had a huge amount of reading and paper writing every week. Rather than miss out on the Thursday fun of welcoming the weekend early, I would force myself to finish so I could join the revelers.

I suppose I needed that release too, since I put so much pressure on myself when sitting down to write. I fought tooth and nail for my very soul, the voice telling me “I can’t” bouncing around my head like a ping-pong ball. It was my first taste of panic, though I couldn’t name it at the time.

I continued to prove that voice wrong, every week. And it still haunts me from time to time. I found myself wondering where it comes from, and why it had so much power over me.

Like any grateful child, I prodded my parents for answers. More bluntly, I blamed them. I ran away from family obligations like my life depended on it. It might have, in fact. But in the course of the rupture, I became more and more broken. Even as I traveled the world and the distance between us increased, I couldn't face myself and my own tendencies, hereditary, cultural or otherwise.

Anger, resentment, desolation—they followed me like stowaways, surfacing during my darkest moments. My health suffered as a result, and I knew that unless I tried something drastic, I'd never recover. So I quit my job and began searching for solutions to my self-inflicted problems. I turned to creative writing in the hopes that one day I could share my story. I never imagined I'd actually have an inspiring story to share.

Now that I've unloaded all this garbage out there, I'll take a pause in the story. We have come to the juncture between the “before” and “after” of the makeover. For me, the turnaround point came through a program aptly named “Inner Engineering.” It was challenging, but fun. It enabled me to look at life anew, with a clarity I'd never known before. By the end, I was bursting with so much energy that I couldn't recognize myself. It was so powerful, so positive, that I needed to explore further; it couldn't be ignored.

After several subsequent programs and long stays at the Isha Yoga Center, I became enraptured by the new yoga and meditation practices I'd welcomed into my life. My health quickly improved, as did my relationships. I noticed my reactions to situations subtly changing; things that once bothered me didn't have the same effect. There was a distance between me and the emotions that used to over-power me.

In this space, I began to shift from unconscious reactions to conscious ones. In this space, I began to create my destiny. In this space, new possibilities emerged like phoenixes.

The old patterns of thoughts and emotions are still there to some extent, they just don't rule me anymore like in my life's previous chapters. I've discovered a bliss so pure that it keeps me wanting more, and knowing that I'm bound to get it once I stop paying attention to the nonsense. I've discovered a world far beyond my wildest imagination: one where I'm happy. And life's volume is just so loud, I simply can't hear the “can't” anymore.

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Interested in discovering more? You can get a discount on Inner Engineering Online, 7 online classes for self-empowerment, and learn a free meditation. Becky blogs about personal and professional explorations at Becky Blab.

Break on through to the other side.

2011-07-29T16:45:00.000-07:00

You're in the street late at night. You see a dark shape ahead. Your heart races. You notice your breathing. You feel the sweat on your palms and the thrill of fear in your belly. The automatic part of you gets you ready to run. It's ok though because you realise that the dark shape is just a ladder leaning benignly against a wall. From there it's a quick return to feeling normal. You let our your breath and your body relaxes.

Or not. The rest of your trip home is a bit frantic. Your head snapping from side to side. Your legs have a mind of their own and there's the feeling of being pushed along from behind by an invisible hand. Full scale panic is a hairs breadth away. It's ok though you've good reason to be on alert. You are alone on a dark street at night and you know what can happen. It's happened before......

Or not. In fact you are surrounded by people at a party. You're not sure what triggered your panic, but you are tense. Your heart is pounding. Your breathing is rapid. You have to get out of there. You signal your partner using the private, much practised, non-verbal signal designed for this occurrence. Because as usual your panic takes away your ability to excuse yourself politely.

Fear and panic. Hand and glove. Or not?

I fear something that does not make my heart pound or my breathing ragged. It's source is a shapeless, formless, intangible, hovering monster that dwells behind a door that I lock securely. I have cataloged it as the fear that I will do a bad job and fail. To keep the door locked that separates me from this monster, I busy myself with a million other tasks or I simply do nothing at all. Both of these strategies work for me, but both of them are torture.

I believe that this is what we should fear the most, because holding ourselves back, running away, and locking the door is so much worse than facing the monster. I know that it's only when I face any fear head on that it vaporises, or that perhaps it was never made of anything at all.

Facing Fear

2011-07-22T18:20:00.000-07:00

Hello Writers Risers and Readers,

I feel a need to reintroduce myself. My name is Katherine Jenkins and I blog over at Lessons from the Monk I Married. I started this blog after my writing group in Seattle decided to name themselves the Writers Risers. The point of our little group was and is to meet and inspire each other to keep writing and keep creating and to follow our dreams. Over the course of two years this blog has come to include over 30 contributing writers from around the world! I hope to expand that number, so if you are interested in being a contributor, please post a comment here. There are some guidelines, but you can get an idea of the writing we have here by reading a few posts. Starting next month, I plan to provide monthly themes. To the current contributors, you can choose to write on the chosen theme or submit a post on another topic. For August the theme is:

FACING FEAR

Can't wait to see what kind of writing comes from that one! I'm going to get to work on it soon and you'll find my post here in August! Until then, happy writing and creating!

Katherine

Clear the road

2011-07-22T12:03:00.000-07:00

Image courtesy of Bing images

I'm in one of those stages where life in general is on the verge of improving in myriad ways. Personal life is good, new work and projects are in the pipeline, so I can't complain about the near future. What I find interesting is that just prior to good things hitting many of our personal horizons, Life seems to throw some curve balls. I'm experiencing this myself, and I find it a curious manifestation. I don't know what the purpose is of hardships being visited just prior to prosperity manifesting, but it does seem to be a common experience. I know it isn't unique to my life, as I've discussed this with friends many times over the years.

A good analogy would be that you're driving along a beautiful road, enjoying the journey, only to keep getting slowed down by small or large landslides. You can see beyond the pile of debris to clear road, but you have to stop and clear the rubble away before driving on down the beautiful vista.

It could be argued that it's just Life...that it isn't necessarily a good or a bad thing, nor should it be looked at as any deep, dark cloud of Doom being visited upon us. I don't dispute that thought - Life does hand us all manner of energies. I've said time and time again that we define ourselves by how we choose to react to a given set of circumstances.

So, when you can see happy times within a fingertips' grasp, yet you find yourself also swimming against the proverbial current to get there, how do you deal with it? I find myself focusing on my breathing. When I feel conflicted, or scared that something insurmountable is approaching, I feel a sense of heaviness in my chest. This reminds me to search for calm, to stop the vicious cycle of fear based thoughts, and immediately choose to switch the focus of my conscious thoughts to something of a lighter and happier emotion and vibration. Does this work 100% of the time to ease that moment of stress? A great majority of the time, it really does.

Yes, the issues of concern remain, even when I am changing my conscious set point and pattern of thoughts. However, when I focus on happier thoughts, I'm better able to come back to that issue of concern with a more clear head. Solutions are more easily accessed, if I just take time to breathe through the initial fears. I admit that even knowing this fact to be true, I sometimes fall victim to those encroaching worries. They build up in our mind's eye with ferocious and astonishing speed, don't they?!

What I'm focusing on today is that my near future has a lot of wonderful things that are on the verge of happening. These things are mere weeks away and will bring some much needed stability and security to my freelancing business. On a personal level, my life is also changing and that energy is growing and improving, and is also mere weeks away from further clarity happening. It is the here and now that is a bit challenging and worrisome. I'm falling back on a lifetime of practicality to weather the temporary bumps in the road, and I'm very appreciative of having these coping skills.

Am I still harboring some fears, deep inside? Yes, to a degree, because reality can be downright harsh at times. To be fair, adopting a temporary hunkering down mode doesn't slow down or prevent all the good energy that is approaching; I remind myself of this fact quite often. Perhaps the bumps in the road are Nature's way of clearing out a bunch of junky energy. Sort of a way to clear the road by dramatic means....a catharsis. If looked at in this manner, then the series of troublesome moments that hit prior to the good stuff occurring can be looked at as a blessing. It is my habit to look for the positives in any situation, and these thoughts have been circling in my mind for the past several weeks. I would much rather find a way to appreciate these annoying little tangles in my path than to lament and embrace them, building them into an even larger ball of worries. I think we all know that focusing and pouring energy into a negative mindset just encourages more of that same energy to grow and manifest.

So, yes, Life sometimes throws us unexpected unpleasant moments right on the eve of wonderful things approaching. Is this some sort of Divine test to see if we're strong enough to persevere, strong enough to hold our faith, strong enough to keep smiling? It may be a modicum of all of those, and it may be none of them. It all depends on our perspective and our conscious choices. There's obvious merit in not giving in to despair. No one wants to dwell in such a sad mental and emotional space.

I like the thought of clearing the road for better energies to manifest. That empowers my Spirit, and lifts my heart, and it most certainly eases that heaviness of breath that was making itself felt. Choosing to look at this situation as a positive, this clearing of the road for better things to come, allows me to feel a rush of anticipation. A sense of sureness that yes, this is all part of the Greater Picture, the Greater Plan, and is a necessary piece of the process. It is a strong truth that before order can be created, chaos usually is the precursor. With that in mind, I am now better able to face these smaller bits of detritus littering my path, because I recognize that this is a clearing of discordant energies that no longer serve a positive purpose. Logically, if I move through these smaller moments of frustration and weather them with equanimity and a sense of Grace, they will clear away that much more quickly. I just have to be willing to roll my sleeves up and be purposeful in how I choose to direct my energies to clear the debris littering my personal path. It's the concept that is resonating the most strongly for me, so that is what I am choosing to embrace.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

___________________________________

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Never too old to learn

2011-07-21T14:09:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's just me, but I love learning. I think I was born with a curious inquisitive mind and I think it's good for anyone to keep the old brain cells active.

I go through phases of learning new things. When I get a new hobby, I'm all systems go at first. I get lost in it for a while. Really, I just want to learn and play. I love playing, me. I'm a big kid at heart.

I think when you are creative, playing is the only way. You have to enjoy what you are doing. When you enjoy it, it's easy. When you 'try', things don't work out so well.

My latest hobby is making videos on youtube. I just love it! I'm not much good at it yet, but I will be! Each video I'm making is getting better and better.

That's all I have to say really. Short and sweet, as my Grandad would say.

Here's my latest video (ooh I sound like a pop star!) because I'm in a 'show and tell mood'. :)

for the first time...

2011-07-21T10:41:00.000-07:00

"for the first time" is the title to my latest can't possibly live without piece of music... sung by "The Script" from the UK... link is at the bottom of my post... I had listened to the lyrics many times before... but today the words hit my brain... maybe it was the continuous loop on my iPod but they sank in today... I started feeling the words and letting them flow into my life and all my experiences... he sings about his girlfriend but I let the words drift to encompass myself and I...

maybe it's the approaching 44th birthday that has me waxing philosophical but I find myself looking at who is looking back at me in the mirror and it sometimes feels that we are meeting for the first time...

who is this dude with the increasingly grey hair looking back at me... I know he is a good guy, but could he have been more, given more, loved better, been more patient...

not been so damned scared of everything...

how have all my experiences been engraved onto the face I see... this person I present to this world, friends and family...

I am at that age where I remember my parents and the more "mature" people in my world starting to leave us... more funerals than weddings, seeing their pain as they moved their loved ones into care or into hospice for their final days... all the broken hearts and all the "jack" drunk alone in the local bar... all the smiling but at the same time close to tears... all those ripples under the surface that we all smooth over so as not to be "that person" who is always in the shit... never has anything together... the one we all avoid....

I'm not giving up, not by a long shot, I just really wonder do we really ever know that we made a real difference to this place, the people we know, this great, colourful mural of humanity... do our brushstrokes even count... are we even supposed to know?

I look around my life and it is a good one, I have few regrets, but have at the same time, never truly "had it all"... or maybe I have, but just used the wrong scale to judge... always seem to have had employment that I loved, and when it wasn't great anymore, had the strength to walk away and allow a new door to open, family is good, those I have chosen to call "family" have my back, and I theirs... but the great love of my life eludes me, and maybe that is my lot in life... I am loved, that much I know down to my core, but I have never been able to hold on to a significant other... never found quite the right balance between holding on and letting go I guess... maybe that's my lesson this go round... that and patience... not good at either...

So I put it out there, look around and look deep, look at those eyes in the mirror and all the secrets and fears, love and tears, laughter and joy...
what would you say to that face if you were to meet it again for the first time...
maybe take it further, honour who you see, love who you see, respect who you see, cherish and comfort who you see looking back at you.. .
for some of us doing that, will truly be the feeling that you're meeting ... for the first time...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPEBN2dVNUY

also posted on my blog (http://currentripple.blogspot.com/2011/06/for-first-time.html)

on love and loss...

2011-07-20T19:27:00.000-07:00

Today has been a tough day for my household.

Especially for our little Murphy.

My sweet little dog was out walking on the beach with me yesterday evening when he came across a little bit of discarded fishing bait. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as his walks usually involve lots of sniffing and nibbling of anything that looks even remotely flavoursome. So I wasn't too concerned until I realised that he was stopping to paw at his face because there was something hanging out of it.

Thinking that he had picked up a stick or piece of grass in his beard, I called him over to remove it. On closer inspection, I realised that it was a piece of fishing line with a sinker attached. After looking in his mouth, it dawned on me that the tasty morsel he had just munched on was more than likely still attached to a fish hook, which was now somewhere down his throat.

After a rushed trip to the vet, x-rays revealed that the hook was in fact stuck all the way down at the base of his oesophagus - one of the most unlikely and difficult places from which to retrieve it.

Our two options involved the use of an endoscope to remove the hook, or surgery.

We chose the least invasive option, which was the endoscope. This, however, proved unsuccessful as the large hook was becoming more firmly stuck with their attempts to remove it.

The last option was to try and get to it through the stomach.

Thankfully, our prayers were answered and the operation today was a success. Though he is not yet out of the woods, he is in good hands and we are believing he will make a full recovery.

I fully understand that Murph is an animal; however, he is very much a part of our life. In 2 short years, he has firmly entrenched himself in our hearts and as a part of our family.

I do realise that he won't live forever but I simply wasn't prepared to say goodbye to him so soon.

But one thing I have been reminded of today is that loving means that you have to face losing.

Thankfully, for us, not today.

But someday, sure.

Loving brings the greatest moments of life - incredible joy and feelings of happiness and belonging.

But it also brings a vulnerability to loss and grief - something we inevitably have to face, often when we are least prepared for it.

Of course, the loss of a pet is not even on the same scale as the loss of a person... but still, it hurts.

Yet though loving means that I will have to face my share of pain and grief, I choose to love.

To love and to be loved is an immeasurable blessing.

And it is so much better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

I can't wait to have my little buddy back home, following me from room to room, just waiting for me to love him with games, cuddles and walks.....

Though maybe not walks on the beach for a while.

also published on my blog

an introduction...

2011-07-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

Hello Writers Rising!
Allow me to introduce myself to the group and tell you a little about myself. Katherine signed me up today as a contributor, and requested my first post be a little about who I am.

I started my own Blog (http://currentripple.blogspot.com/) earlier this year as a way of achieving 2 things. One, to add some structure to my love of writing, and two, to combine that love with my passion for photography.
I have loved to sit and write since my high school days, where regular English class assignments allowed me the opportunity to breath life onto a page. Where others dreaded the essays, I welcomed them with eager anticipation. Coupling my writing with photography has had me make the leap to digital format, broadening my boundaries of creativity.

I write from the heart, with the bulk of my work as non-fiction, usually when the words urge me to put fingertips to keys and let them flow onto the screen. Like many of you I am sure, this urgent need to write almost overtakes me and I have to stop whatever I am doing at that moment, and let the words come. I never force the issue, if I don't feel connected, I don't write.
I try to keep everything on a positive plane, with heartfelt, deep soulful feeling.

I work in the publishing industry for a family owned chain of Community Newspapers, though in our IT department working with, and training our office personnel.

I look forward to this journey with all of you.
Ryan

Fritzy's World

2011-07-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Fritzy. She wandered into our apartment complex in New Delhi some weeks ago and decided to make it her home. Many of us residents took care of her - feeding her and loving her. She was mostly white with some patches of golden brown painted across her back. A splatter of light brown gave character to her otherwise large and pointy ears that looked a little big for her narrow face. Her eyes were doe-like, beautifully shaped - the kind that could turn every gaze into a soulful plea.

I first met her was when I took Mitraa, our pet dog who we adopted off the streets a year ago, for her evening walk. Fritzy came bounding up to us, her scrawny tail wagging tentatively. Not the overbearing kind, she stopped just short of us to gauge my reaction. Like she was asking for my permission to play with Mitraa.

Mitraa is usually not one who takes very kindly to her fellow brethren on the streets. The feeling is mutual - her fellow brethren don't have a high opinion of her either. They usually dismiss her with a look of disdain and a deep throated growl, while she struggles to break free of the leash and lunge at them. When this happens, the human caught in the crossfire, which often happens to be my Dad or me, is in an unenviable position - barely managing to maintain a grip on the leash and avert an ambush in the making. Mitraa thinks she can take them on single-handedly. We have often tried breaking it to her that she is sorely mistaken on this count.

But with Fritzy, it was different. She and Mitraa took to one another like fish to water. The introductions were tentative. They sniffed each other in all the wrong places. Once that was out of the way, though, they jumped onto each other, frolicked in the mud, pawed one another, and generally made complete monkeys of themselves. Fritzy was all about gentle play. Mitraa, on the other hand, has an exuberant personality. She's more "hands on". Fritzy would begin the duel by nudging Mitraa with her nose. It was like she was saying "come on, don't be a bore - let's play!” Mitraa obviously took Fritzy's jibes very seriously. She would put her paws onto Fritzy's back and give her a little kick. That would get Fritzy all riled up and she would nudge Mitraa back. Then they'd go round and round in circles, chasing one another. Fritzy enjoyed it thoroughly. She loved instigating Mitraa and having her lead the play session.

During these play sessions, however, Mitraa always had her leash on. If that ever came off, she would go running off towards the not-so-friendly stray dogs who sit in the lane parallel to ours. An encounter like that could be dangerous for Mitraa so even though we love all the stray dogs in our complex - we even feed them - we do make sure that Mitraa stays away from them.

That evening, I watched in glee while Fritzy and Mitraa played cat and mouse. A few minutes later, I felt her leash go limp in my hand. Mitraa had wiggled out of her collar! In the next millisecond, here's what happened. I looked at Mitraa, and she looked up at me. Our eyes went big with surprise for different reasons. The glee that shone in her eyes was in stark contrast to the horror writ across mine. Mitraa was quicker than me. Before I could say or do anything, she went charging away with Fritzy. Fritzy couldn't believe her good fortune. She finally had the dog all to herself without the human in tow. I knew, though, that if Mitraa saw the other stray dogs, she would get into a fight and would probably not come out alive. I went running after Mitraa and Fritzy, screaming Mitraa's name. She saw me run towards her and thought this was a game so she began running even faster in the opposite direction. Fritzy was on a high - this was way too much excitement for her all of a sudden.

As both of them ran, they suddenly veered towards the left and were gone. When I reached the spot, I realized that they had run into the neighbor's garden. The gate was left ajar, so I quickly closed and bolted the gate from outside. Fritzy and Mitraa were all over each other in the garden.

Meanwhile, the neighbor's dog - a sausage dog - waddled out the main door, curious about the commotion in his garden. He had barely appeared on the porch, when Mitraa and Fritzy pounced on him. They had found a new, albeit unwilling, playmate. The commotion got even louder, and the neighbors - humans this time - came running out into the garden and screamed when they saw their dog being manhandled by two street dogs.

Unable to bear this anymore, I opened the gate and went dashing in. I managed to get my arms around Mitraa. You can imagine the neighbor’s horror when they saw a man run into their garden unannounced. In the ensuing melee, however, I accidentally left the garden gate open and sausage dog thought it a perfect time to take an evening stroll. With Mitraa in my arms, and Fritzy - in a state of hyper-ventilation - trotting behind me, I went running after sausage dog. I had nearly caught up with him, when he stopped in his tracks and looked back at me over his left shoulder. He gave me a disgusted look that said "I'm not a menace like your street dog. I can handle myself perfectly well in the outdoors." I did not attempt to question his conviction. By then, the human neighbors had arrived and sausage dog was in safe hands.

Mitraa slept like a log that night, and Fritzy looked dizzy with excitement even the next day.

Some days ago, we got to know that Fritzy passed away. She was hit by a speeding car when she wandered onto the road outside. She had mustered every last bit of strength to crawl back inside the gate, and that's where she breathed her last. No one was around when this happened. By the time we were alerted, it was too late.

When I heard the news, my eyes welled up with tears. I hugged Mitraa real tight - hoping that some of the extra love would somehow be sent over to Fritzy.

Just that morning, Dad had seen Fritzy galloping around the park with Blackie, another gentle stray dog who had become her constant companion.

These days, whenever I drive through the gate and park my car, I feel a heaviness come over me. I miss seeing beautiful Fritzy come bounding up to me, her tail wagging. I miss looking into her pleading eyes, giving her a rub on the head, and watching the pleading turn to pure contentment.

I look over my shoulder and see Blackie sitting beside the entrance to the park, his head resting between his front paws. It looks to me like he patiently waits for his playmate to return.

(Photograph courtesy Michelle Lohutko)

Article also posted on my blog.

Tom

2011-07-05T02:28:00.000-07:00

Tom

Tom watched as the horizon bobbed up and down, as the world slowly drifted past. Life, he thought, didn’t get much better than this.

What more could a boy ever want than a day like today? Some days were bad, some good, but today? Well today was amazing.

Tiredness pulled on the boy’s eyelids, making them oh so heavy, but there was no way they were closing right now, not a chance.

There was someone to go and see; someone to cuddle.

As Tom rode his dad’s shoulders, he rested his chin upon the balding head and clung on tightly around his solid neck.

The strong shoulders felt safe, felt warm.

Earlier they had played football together, and Dad had let him win again – but not without some light fowls and blatant cheating, which always made Tom laugh until his ribs ached.

Tom’s dad had taken him to McDonalds for dinner – a rare treat, and he’d even allowed him pudding. Since when was anyone ever allowed pudding in McDonalds?

The man had just smiled warmly and sat there watching him eat.

Silent.

Thinking.

Worrying.

The greying man had done a lot of worrying recently.

But then the phone call came.

That brilliant, wonderful phone call.

It was Tom’s mum, calling from the hospital.

The results were in – she had beaten it!

The Cancer was gone!

Everything was new, everything was different. Dad jumped up, and with tears in his eyes gave the boy the biggest, strongest bear hug he’d ever had, before popping to the counter and ordering himself an apple pie.

This was a special occasion after all!

And now, as the light faded in the distance Tom sighed. They were on the way to get her; they were heading to the hospital to bring her home.

But not before Tom passed on that bear hug to his mum.

Some things were too good not to share.

.......................................................................................................................

Also posted at www.Glenslife.com by me – Glen.

Stand for Peace

2011-06-12T14:52:00.000-07:00

Writers Who Stand for Peace and Against Injustice


I stand in support of the LGBTT Community. Gay Pride Parade June 5, 2011. Condado, Puerto Rico.

On May 5, 1992 my mother Susan Pittmann and her lesbian partner Christine Puckett were murdered by their neighbor James Brooks. Newspapers in Detroit and Huron Township, Michigan reported that the double homicide was the culmination of an ongoing battle over property lines. My mother was fifty-five, healthy and vibrant with positive ideas about the future. Christine was thirty-nine, energetic and busy raising her teenage son. Brooks was slow to reflect and quick to anger. He became enraged when he saw my mother and Christine publicly expressing affection. By erecting a privacy fence between these two rural properties, Mom and Christine intended to bring a peaceful resolution to Brooks’ complaints. However, it became clear that he was enraged about their gay relationship, and that not seeing them together was not enough. He vigorously complained to neighbors where he found support for his rage, and he formulated his murder plan.

From police reports, it’s clear that he shot Christine first from the side door of his house and then as he walked over to view her body that was face down in the grass, he lifted his gun and shot her in the back. I imagine just before he pulled the trigger, he thought the words he told the police later, “It had to be done”. My mother was on the kitchen phone with the emergency operator reporting that Brooks had threatened their lives when Christine was first shot. She immediately dropped the telephone, ran outside and stood in front of Brooks, weaponless. I imagine she asked him why he did it, and in answer, he shot her just below the heart. Brooks’ determined discriminatory attitude has troubled me ever since. How did he become so certain about his decision to murder my mother and Christine? After the deaths, I watched in astonishment as the actual motivation for the crime was determined to be a property dispute instead of a hate crime. Newspapers reported exaggerated stories casting my mother and Christine in a harsh light, which apparently had nothing to do with their sexual preference.

I was shocked to see my mother, a dynamic loving people-person characterized as a temperamental abuser of animals while Brooks was portrayed as an elderly man who was pushed to the limits of tolerance by his unreasonable neighbors. Neighbors reported that he was upset about my mother’s Pit-bull trespassing onto his property. No one explained that my mother’s dog, Ms. Pitt, was an elderly overweight, exhausted and non-territorial dog that was given a daily dose of thyroid medication just to stay alert. No mention was made of her activism within the gay community, and that she and Christine were founding members of the Affirmations Gay and Lesbian Community Center in Downriver-Detroit. No mention was made that she was a loving mother of five children and devoted grandmother to eight. No mention was made about how much we would continue to miss her for the rest of our lives.

After reading these news reports, I quickly understood that Brooks had not acted alone. In fact, it was a narrow-minded society that provided ammunition for this crime. It was only the gay community that stood strong and honestly told the truth about these murders. They loudly proclaimed that this double homicide was not a neighborhood feud but a hate crime. As a continued tribute to the gay community, I am honored at Marianne K. Martin’s request to write the forward of her latest novel, The Indelible Heart. This novel extends some of the plot threads related to my mother and Christine that appeared in Martin’s first novel Love in Balance and succeeds in giving a personal face to the events surrounding the murders. Though it is a work of fiction, the narrative highlights how in fact, the gay community rallied together to fight homophobia and violence in response to this shocking crime. I encourage people to read this profoundly moving novel and realize that it is our duty as members of society to stand together and continue a united struggle against intolerance and violence.

Cynthia Pittmann

Brian Alexander is making a documentary on Mom and Chris' story, and the LGBT community in the Detroit Metropolitan area in the early 90s. You can visit the new website http://pittmannpuckett.com to find out more about it. He contacted singer/songwriter Susan Hendrick and asked her to share her talents, which resulted in the moving music video, "Fight 2 B Whole." You can view it below, or click on the link at the Pittmann/Puckett website or plan to watch it during the closing credits of the film.

The Awakening – The Denial

2011-06-10T16:19:00.000-07:00

My boy is growing up, actually in many ways he HAS grown up already.

My little boy whom I held in one hand has recently turned 14 is now taller than me and stands at 6ft 1 inch and weighs in at around the 105kg. He has more stubble on his face than I did when I turned 20 and his voice has changed to better match his stature.

My little boy who used to look at me for all the answers and used to believe that I was the source of all knowledge now has his own independent opinion and now believes that I understand little of his world and generation and that suddenly I know nothing.

My little boy who used to stand close to me to feel safe and protected now either walks 10 paces in front or behind me for independence or he stands next to me to intimidate my threats and to protect me ( and his mother ).

Suddenly the world has changed …

“ Hello, my name is Andrew Swansson and I am an obsessive parent who doesn’t want to let go ! ”

I used to think it was so scary being a parent, being 100% responsible for such a defenceless bundle of love and happiness. Being responsible for ensuring that he was always clothed, fed, educated, encouraged, loved and protected. Protected against a cruel world filled with cruel nasty children and a society that has become disengaged and cynical, a world filled with monsters that lurk in the shadows of society.

But now I realise that the scariest thing about being a parent is that one day you won’t be responsible for any of the above. That while your love and support is still appreciated, it’s not their only source and there for not in such high demand.

I was given some words of wisdom when Dylan was conceived and I have never forgotten the words although I can’t remember the source .. “ Always love, protect and encourage your child, for they do not belong to you and are not your possession, they are but on lone to you for a very short time ”

We only ever had the one child, Dylan. His mother would have loved to have a tribe of kids but after seeing Dylan in all his perfection and seeing the toll and effect of bringing him into this world paid by his mother, I honestly never really thought of having another. While there were times I dreamt of having another and maybe having a little daddy’s girl I was never game to tempt fate as Dylan was so perfect in so many ways I was convinced that no one on the face of this earth could be so blessed and so lucky twice in a row.

I am a gambler by nature but that was one roll of the dice I could never bring myself to take.

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, I knew the millisecond that Dylan was conceived, I was tapped on the shoulder by my guide ( God or by whatever name you call them ) and told congratulations you are the proud parents of a happy and healthy son.

I believe that Dylan is a gift from above in so many ways, I believe he has a purpose on this earth that none of us know or understand. I believe that his mother and I were meant to meet and our life journey was to deliver Dylan to this world. It was our life’s journey to protect him and to prepare him for the day that he would walk his own path and write his own story.

A day fast approaching and for which I now find myself totally unprepared for !

( Also posted on my home Blog " The Soap Box Truth "

Writing writing

2011-05-23T15:09:00.001-07:00

I'm writing work things and papers and lecture notes and reflections but I'm not writing writing.

Writing involves sitting still, with hands and mind working together. Writing writing is sitting still with me, with hands and mind working together with my internal compass. Writing writing orients me in the right direction in the same way that migrating birds are directed by something internal. Writing gets me where I set my mind to go, but writing writing brings me back to where I am.

I Have A Sister

2011-05-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

I have a sister named Kelly. She is my younger sister. She is my first memory.

My mother lays my newborn sister on her back on my parents bed. I am laying on my stomach, head resting in hands, repeatedly criss-crossing my bent legs with excitement. I am positioned at the top of her head, nose buried in her tiny wisps of hair. She smells like freshly baked sugar cookies to my three year old nose and I cannot stop myself from repeatedly kissing her head. When she looks at me and smiles, my heart races and I report this amazing feat with the typical toddler glee of a new big sister. My mother says she is too little to smile yet and it was gas. I know better. I know I made my sister smile and it sinks deep within my heart.

There have been fifty years between that memory and today. Fifty years of growing up and immaturity, laughing and crying, fighting and defending, standing and stooping. Fifty years that seemed like a hundred on some days and only a few moments on others. Fifty years.

Fourteen years ago, Kelly was diagnosed with Hemangiopericytoma. An extremely rare cancer. So rare in fact, the best doctors in California misdiagnosed it as a benign brain tumor. It wasn’t until ten years later, they finally realized what it actually was. The news was not good. They had only seen minimal cases due to it’s rarity and no one had survived past ten years. There was really no known treatment that could change that. Or so they said.

My older sister Char and I jumped online and researched Hemangiopericytoma, hospitals that dealt with it and doctors who specialized in killing it. We found MDAnderson. So, for the last four years we have met in Houston every three months. There have been major surgeries, clinical trials, tears, fears and laughter. Oh Lord, has there ever been laughter.

Last week, I flew to Houston to meet my sister Kelly at MDAnderson. She had a bad feeling about this trip. She kept saying it every time I called beforehand. I did what I am known for doing. I made light of it, changed the subject, made her laugh.

I called Kelly last night on my way home from work. I wanted to know if she had heard anything yet on the test results. She had. I knew before I even asked. I knew. I knew in Houston. I told my brother-in-law when we were walking over to get Kelly from her MRI.

“David, something just isn’t right. Maybe I’m just tired and I can’t put my finger on it but something doesn’t seem right.”

I made David promise not to tell Kelly what I had said as if that would make it go away.

Last night on my drive home from work, I called Kelly like I almost always do.

“Hey Kel, how ya feeling?”

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

The radiation in March had worked well on her spine. The brain tumor had grown but not drastically. She could have a seventh brain surgery to remove the tumor…again. That was the good news she said.

“ Weinberg said my lungs are bad. They couldn’t handle a surgery.”

“What? Your lungs are bad? Your lungs aren’t bad.”

“Marla, the tests say my lungs and liver are bad.”

“Ok, so what are they going to do. How are they going to fix this?”

“Three more months of chemo, then back for results. If that doesn’t work, there’s nothing more they can do.”

I rarely cry. It’s the hand my sister dealt me awhile back. Everyone was always crying over her and she did not want me crying. She wanted me to make everyone smile again. So I did. For the last fourteen years. Until last night.

I screamed at my baby sister on the phone last night. I pulled my car over to the side of the road and I screamed through burning, hot tears.

“You cannot leave me here alone! You cannot! I can’t do this without you!”

“Marla, you’re not helping.”

“I don’t care, you can’t leave me here. I can’t talk to you right now.”

We both hung up without another word.

I dreamt about Kelly last night. It was a dream about something that had happened in Houston last week. We were in the hotel room getting ready for one of her appointments. She was having trouble with her right hand and said she thought one of the doctors was probably right. She believed she would be paralyzed and unable to write one day.

“Whatever Kelly. You never could write anyway.”

Kelly started to cry and said, “You just don’t want to hear the truth.”

I dreamt about that conversation last night. I dreamt about how I felt punched in the stomach at her words because they were true. I saw myself in the dream doing what I had done in reality.

As I stood next to her wheelchair with my arms wrapped around her, I buried my nose in her red hair and kissed the top of her head repeatedly.

Finding love again

2011-04-13T12:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just need reminding.

Occasionally you simply need to see it to believe it.

This weekend I saw it, this weekend I remembered.

After thirteen years of marriage and nine years of parenthood, it can be easy to lose your way a little, to forget why you set off on the journey in the first place. I can only write this from my own male perspective, but I don’t doubt the feelings are the same from both sides of the gender fence.

When you set sail on the cruise ship of marriage, the seas are calm and bathed in glorious sun, Whitney Houston wows the crowds in the theatre, and the food is a smorgasbord from heaven.

When kids come along the seas can turn unpredictably choppy. Whitney becomes boring and repetitive, and dinner becomes beige.

We still love our partners and our kids, but it can become a little harder to remember why. Everything has changed, your life, your outlook and your priorities have all changed – as have those of the person you fell in love with.

It is all too easy to find yourself drifting along with the tide, not really knowing where you are going or why you are going there.

I think almost everyone reading this will know of at least one local case study, where a couple have been so strong and so together while their kids were growing up, only to suddenly part once their dependants stopped depending on them so much. They had suddenly discovered that their children were all that they had in common anymore. As soon as they were left alone, they had nothing.

This has been my worry for a while. Parenthood was eroding my personality and my individuality. This may sound a little over the top and maybe it is, but sometimes you can find yourself worrying that you are doing things for the wrong reasons, and if you are still on the right ship.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I was unhappy at all, I wasn’t. I’m not saying we were having problems, we weren’t. Sometimes though, you do start to wonder who you really are; all you feel like is a dad or a husband, you can’t remember who the person inside was, and if that person was someone you like.

This weekend we went shopping.

It didn’t exactly start off excitingly did it?

The trip has been planned for a while, two nights in Birmingham to shop for a new set of clothes for my successful ‘weight watcher’ wife, because she could no longer hold any of her trousers up without scaffolding.

The boys were with their Grandparents, all we had to do was relax and shop.

I usually hate shopping so I hadn’t really thought too much about the trip as being anything special. We had booked into a cheap hotel and I was mentally primed for a hard day’s shopping. I was ready to put up with the mundane and do my bit as a husband once more, to continue drifting along with the tide.

However…

What happened was a revelation.

What happened was that I remembered.

I remembered just how much I really do love my wife.

I love being with her. Jo is great company, and I hope and think that without the pressures and strains that fatherhood can sometimes bring, I’m not too bad for her either.

We get on.

We talk.

We laugh at each other.

What happened was that I saw.

I saw again just how beautiful my wife is when she smiles.

Jo’s eyes shine so brightly when she is happy it blinds me, when she laughs it melts my heart.

With both of us working full time and looking after two brilliant but frisky boys (aren’t they all?), it is scarily easy to miss these things and forget that they are there. Even shuffling around the Bull Ring for hours on end couldn’t prevent me from enjoying myself. I was in good company – very good company.

Late on Saturday night we sat finishing our meal when it struck me that without either of us doing it on purpose, with no prearranged agreement, neither of us had really mentioned our kids all day. Maybe in passing a couple of times, when we had thought to buy them some sweets, but on the whole they just weren’t being talked about. I couldn’t really tell you what we did talk about, but we certainly talked – a lot!

Just for a couple of days we were no longer parents, and we were no longer husband and wife.

We were friends.

We were lovers.

We were the people we fell in love with.

I don’t think this would have happened quite so well if we had tried to create it; if the purpose of the weekend had been pre-assigned as a ‘romantic’ break. If we had set out to try and forcibly recapture our youth, or attempted to ban talking about the boys in order to direct conversation. I think if we had put pressure on ourselves to get on – we probably wouldn’t.

The weekend worked the way that it did because it was real.

It’s who I really am.

It’s who Jo is.

It’s who we are.

I love who Jo is.

I love who we are.

And perhaps once again, I can love who I am.

Maybe Whitney was right after all.

Previously posted at www.Glenslife.com

It's where I write!

Thoughts on Japan

2011-03-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

There is only one thing I can possibly talk about today, and that is Japan.

I cannot even start to describe the awfulness of what nature has subjected those people too.

The images of boat loads of scared kids being rescued, none of whom having the first idea where their parents might be, or if they will ever see them again made my eyes water, the interview with a broken mother, unable to find her daughter forced me to turn the TV off. I could bare it no more. Then I felt stupid and put the TV back on. How can you turn your back on such tragedy?

Devastation has now been compounded by the extra weight of man’s own destructive need for power. This has to be a stark reminder of how fragile our parasitic lives are on this amazing living thing called The Earth.

Man’s need for power has resulted in Nuclear power stations being built on fault lines – and no, in no way shape or form am I having a dig at Japan over this, almost every country on the planet would use Nuclear power if they could – mine certainly does. I’m not even against it, I’m an ex Navy man and I have no personal grievance with this power source, but sometimes you do have to stop and think for a bit.

Really though, is there no other way?

Isn’t there?

For these people to be subjected to the terror of this station melting down on top of everything else, just seems too much.

Nobody could possibly have prevented this Earthquake and the resulting Tsunami; nobody could have accurately predicted its strength or exact time. The shockingly high numbers of deaths are actually amazingly low, testament to just how well prepared Japan was for this.

Learn from the dinosaurs. We are only visitors here. The Earth will live long after humans have stopped. I don’t care what religion you are, you will know that to be true, even if you disagree on how that might come about.

If the human race is going to end, then let it be un-preventable. Let Mother Nature do it, or the God of your choosing, but let’s not do it to ourselves anymore.

Maybe I’m being a bit over dramatic, maybe I’m ranting a little.

Sorry.

But honestly, it has been a tough few years around the world for natural disasters, and though all of them have made me stop and think about how lucky I am, none of the TV imagery has quite caught my attention like this one has. Those kids in the truck were so little, they reminded me so much of my little Jamie. The thought of my son surviving such terror only now not to be able to find the one thing they will be desperate for – his mother’s arms – just brought me to tears.

Spare your thoughts and prayers, however you might say them, for the people of Japan.

They really do need them.

previously posted at www.Glenslife.com

Every Action Has a Ripple Effect: Sending Out Healing Thoughts

2011-03-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

I usually post on Wednesday or Friday, but I've been feeling a bit numb recently and unable to write. I'm in a very odd place, I feel. On the one hand, so many things are opening up. Things I never dreamed could happen. My position in the world has shifted. I feel it. I know I am right where I need to be. I know I am on my path. But that doesn't mean it's all roses and daisies and sunshine and rainbows. Nope. Not at all. What I've found is that the more I open up to my path and go into my fear, the more challenges I am faced with. Sometimes I get sucked into the drama, which my husband calls Mara. I've written about Mara before. Mara comes in many forms and is there to distract or sway a person from their chosen path or course of action. If a person is not strong enough, he or she may fall prey to the ensuing drama that is all around and lose the balance of the mind. The key, I realize, is to keep on my path and keep my practice.

A tsunami and earthquake hit the city of Sendai, Japan, where I spent two years of my life, on Friday. While I tried to carry on with my day, it was a bit difficult. The bicycle path elevated above rice fields where I rode to the ocean on the weekend from my apartment is gone along with the fields and houses. I don't know if the students and friends I had there are alive or not. The ripple effects or aftershocks of this earthquake were felt inside my very own heart. It left me feeling hopeless for a day or so. While it seems this tragedy is on the other side of the world far from many of us, I realize it is not that far removed from any of us. We are all affected by anything that happens on the planet. The feelings, thoughts and words of one single person can cause a ripple effects across the entire planet. So what can I do about it? What is the answer to something so devastating?

Last night I found the answer after two days of feeling a bit numb and helpless. I am the answer. I found it while I was sitting in a movie theater near the University of Washington with a handful of other people watching director Tom Shadyac's movie called, believe it or not, I AM. The Los Angeles Times had this to say about it: "The accent (of the movie) is on big-picture optimism and the interconnectedness of all life..." And if we are in fact all "interconnected," as the movie suggests, then what we feel, say and do in this world is so important. The overwhelming state of the world at times can leave each of us feeling helpless. After all, what can "I" as a tiny human being, do to solve the world's problems?

On the outside, the truth is, probably very little can be done from my efforts. I can offer donations, monetary aid and prayers. I could fly overseas and roll up my sleeves and pitch in. Yes, there are certainly things I could do on the outside. But I know that the "real" work begins on the "inside." If each one of us takes entire responsibility for ourselves and our own feelings, thoughts and actions from the inside, then how different our world would be on the outside.

I am the answer and so are YOU. It may sound new agey or weird and at one point in my life I might have scoffed at this very idea and thought, "Now that's wacko." But I don't believe that anymore because my own experience has shown me differently. I have seen how the words I write can have a tremendous effect on the people around me. I have received e-mails and comments from people all over the world on many occasions letting me know that they can relate or that they feel these things to be true or that the words I have written were exactly the words they needed to hear. This hasn't happened once, it's happened dozens of times. And I realize that my words are NOT the important thing at all. In fact, the words themselves have very little to do with what is happening here. The truth is, we are CONNECTED...all of us! We all breathe this air. What is happening here is about intention. I have good intentions in me which were somehow awoken by my choices and situations I encountered in life and those intentions are waking up the intentions in you and your good intentions are also awakening the intentions of those around you as well. And it just keeps going and going.....None of us can OWN these words or this goodness or the dhamma or the scriptures or the laws of nature or ANY OF IT. We are all in it, we are all a part of it and what we do here is so important. It starts with you!

So now, a year before my book is about to launch, I am coming up against some Mara or obstacles, if you will. I feel I am being shaken. My new point of reference in the universe causes unease for some people around me. Thankfully, the number of people who feel unease in what I am doing and want to shake things up is no where near the number of people who have supported what I am doing. So I have to say to YOU out there who have encouraged me: THANK YOU....your intentions and the ripple effects of those intentions have been felt! Keep shining and keep spreading your good intentions, you don't know what a positive effect it can have on you, the people around you, the world and beyond! We all play a part in this and it doesn't matter where we come from or what we believe or who we follow. We are all in this together.

Also on my blog: Lessons from the Monk I Married

What is essential is invisible to the eye...

2011-03-09T17:00:00.000-08:00

Fear of Success

"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Wise words of the fox in The Little Prince
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

What if all that you dreamed possible
were within your reach?
Would you allow life's geyser to flow?
Or would you cap the steaming pressure
and remain, determinedly, contained?
Would fear stop you from accepting
everything that is coming your way?
How can we feel worthy enough to accept
and open up to the life we've always wanted?
How can we know that this gift is not only possible,
but here?

Interrogating reality...

Hello from Oasis Writing Link!

Higher self

2011-02-10T14:19:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body ~ C. S. Lewis

How's that for a powerful statement?! Quotes often prompt blog articles for me. I've had this quote saved to my drafts file for several weeks, waiting for all the thoughts to coalesce.

I was speaking with a friend on the phone recently who is going through some personal struggles. He was focused quite a lot on dissecting specific words down to their most minute definitions, nuances and applications. I do that myself, as I always enjoy how written language can change with the slightest emphasis on a syllable, or depending upon how that specific word is used in a sentence. Stringing words together into a quote such as the one above will have me pondering all the layers and directions and possibilities, and quite often, will open my eyes and mind up to a perspective I might not have come up with on my own.

We do lose sight of our origins, this is a daily truth. Being on the front lines of this Earth School bombards us with all the raw emotions and experiences that are meant to mold our character, grow us up and refine all the rough edges. Small wonder that we forget that we are Spirit in essence, merely housed in a physical container. It is human nature to think in corporeal terms, because we're in a physical reality!

But taking time to remember our own Divinity is worthwhile. We can't remain here in the physical plane forever, that much is an absolute for this reality. It is a temporary gift we're given, being able to incarnate here and interact with all the wonderful people around us, to be able to feel, hear, think and express ourselves in a human manner. I often wonder what the beauty must be in the non-physical plane, as what we are capable of producing here has breathtaking expression.

When I meditate, there are moments when my consciousness is able to connect at a level that gives me glimpses of that non-physical plane. Occasionally, I am able to shift my consciousness and step outside of my physical body, and those experiences are transcendent. As a child, I can remember reading a great deal about Helen Keller and the fact that, despite her physical limitations with sight and hearing, she was able to shift her consciousness and travel great distances with meditation. She was able to describe other countries in clear detail, down to colors, textures and scents. When asked how this could be possible, her reply was, (paraphrased here) "My body is blind and deaf, but my Spirit isn't."

Similarly, a story I remember hearing of President Reagan's family caring for him in the final stages of Alzheimer's disease was that his daughter, Patty, would spend hours talking with him each day. At that point in his disease, he had lost the ability to speak, and doctors were unsure if he could hear conversation around him. His daughter continued to have her one-sided conversations with him each day. When asked why she bothered by a medical technician, her reply (again, paraphrased here) was, "His body has Alzheimer's disease, but his Spirit doesn't. I'm positive he can hear me, so that's why I do this each day."

These several quotes cobbled together in my mind and made me wonder, what is to stop each of us from having similar conversations with ourselves? Many esoteric tenets hold the belief that we have an Over Soul, or Higher Consciousness. Some believe that we can tap into our own thread that is connected to the Universal Consciousness, or that which we might label God, and that at that level, our Spirit, or Soul, is the culmination of all of our best, strongest, most noble achievements. Call it our own personal spiritual anchor, or bellwether of sorts.

Most of us are comfortable with the process of prayer; some prefer to access that Higher Consciousness through meditation. I've said many times before that when we are creative or loving, or happy, we are expressing something Divine with our actions. Why not take time, then, to remember that we truly are that Soul, housed temporarily in a physical body.....and recognize that as such, our Spirit form is supremely powerful and capable of guiding us in the most pure form? When I remember to do this, I find that my days are much clearer. Energy flows better and I am in a very present state. Solutions to problems are more easily discovered, and connections to people who I am meant to find, interact with and teach and learn from seem to manifest effortlessly.

It is the days that I forget and focus on just being human, wrestling my way through all the front lines activity of a given "battlefield" that life is much more challenging. Another good friend, a Buddhist, always gives me these amazing quotes that she learns from her spiritual teachers. Life is as simple, or as difficult as we make it. That's not a tough concept to read and absorb, but it certainly can be challenging to NOT make life difficult! I know I excel at that very thing! Coming back to quiet, taking time to be with myself and remembering who and what I am.....a being of spiritual energy that is connected to the Divine....this is where and when Life flows much more easily.

So, I do remind myself of Mr. Lewis's quote above. I am a Soul. Inhabiting a physical body, yes, but consciously reminding myself that there is so much more than this immediate physical plane of existence.

What are your thoughts on this C.S. Lewis quote? Do you take those small moments to reconnect with your own Higher Consciousness? What method of approach works best for you? There are no right or wrong answers to these questions; I'm just curious and I know I will value the comments that each of you take time to write here.

Namaste'.
**My apologies that this whole post is in italics. Sometimes no matter how I wrestle w/ the publishing tool, I can't get the formatting to cooperate! The formatting is done properly over at Healing Morning.**
________________________

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. II, February 2011

2011-02-04T15:02:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

I haven't had Grasshopper Thoughts in ages. Well, let me rephrase that. I have had them, quite often...to the tune of probably several hundred in any random day. I just haven't written about them.

Earlier tonight, I was talking with a friend who was snacking on pretzels. So the obvious questions followed. Pretzel sticks, or the traditional rounded, woven kind? Then the next question was inevitably, with dip or plain? And is it me, or does anyone else think their fingers smell like celery after they've eaten pretzels??? Something about the lye they spray on the rising dough to give pretzels that crunchy, glossy outer shell after they bake leaves a celery fragrance on them. No, I'm not kidding and I'm not imagining it. Sniff your fingers the next time you eat pretzels and tell me what you think. Celery. I promise.

So, why can't someone come up with a happy medium between ladies knee high stockings and trouser socks? Is that so hard to invent? The textile factories exist for both, so the technology is already there. There are days when knee highs, ugly things that they are, are too sheer, but that same day, trouser socks are too thick to wear with heels. It makes our feet look like sausages crammed into our high heels, and that just ruins the whole purpose of buying cute shoes. Ladies, I know you get me on this one.

Mustard seeds. I just got a big bag of them from one of my favorite online companies. Right now I have a jar of leftover pickle juice in the refrigerator, half filled with dried mustard seeds. I stumbled on that idea a couple years ago when I had finished a jar of dill pickles and had the liquid left over; there were mustard seeds swimming around in the pickling liquid. I use mustard seeds in potato salad, egg salad and a couple of other dishes, but it takes a while for them to rehydrate in the salads. So, I dumped some into the leftover pickle juice in the jar and tried them a couple days later. Et voila, instant pickled mustard seeds....and a foody addiction was born. In about two days, I'll be enjoying them again.

I don't know about you, but someone has to have the answer to why almonds and mushrooms squeak when you bite down on them. They're not sentient, or even breathing, after all. Why do they squeak??? Another random food thought, I realize, but these thoughts do take up valuable pondering time in my day. I just thought I'd pass along....and share....the torment with you. I'm very generous that way.

You know, sometimes you have a really crummy day. It starts out with just a bad moment and that's never good. For me, that happened earlier this week and within an hour, instead of the bad compounding, I was literally inundated with Sunshine Moments. They were dropping down upon me from every direction. The bad moment faded into insignificance, blotted out by the cheerful, determined rays of the sun being gifted to me. I am still feeling the effects of all that radiance, which is probably why I have all this energy late at night to Grasshopper!
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more of my work, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Writing a Book is Not a Walk in the Park

2011-02-02T12:50:00.000-08:00

Before you decide that getting a book deal or writing a book is your golden ticket to whatever, I invite you to read this in The New York Observer. Don't get me wrong. I am tremendously grateful for the opportunity. It has been my dream to be a published author since I was...I don't know..ten years old? Now that I am actually in the process of having a book published, I realize that dream and reality are quite different.

So you want to be a published author? Are you willing to commit your life to it? Are you willing to put your children, husband, social life and everything else on the back burner for it? Are you willing to sit at your computer for LONG hours writing endlessly with very little social contact?

The reason I love blogging is that it's so interactive. I write something, you write something and we have this nice, little exchange. There's none of that with book writing, apart from the feedback you receive from you editor. I had to laugh when I read the article above. So much of what the author described was true for me. Whatever subject you choose to write on, be prepared to be stuck with that subject for one, two or even ten years in some cases. By the end of it, regardless of how much you LOVE your topic, I guarantee you'll be saying, "I'm so sick of writing about this I could SCREAM!" or "This is SO BAD, who on earth is going to read it?!"

I became consumed with the idea of writing this particular book years ago. I imagined I would write it during a few lovely weeks at my family's lake house. I'd sit out on the picnic table in the sun, birds would chirp around me as I lovingly put down my life in words.

Boy was that dream shattered quickly. First of all, you need to decide how you want your book published. I chose traditional publishing, even though I was warned numerous times that it was a tough road to publication. Everyone has to decide what's best for them. I followed my intuition on this one and stuck the tough road out. Second, if you choose this road, forget the book. If you are going to publish any work of nonfiction, you need a proposal. Mine was around 95 pages and included my book concept, a marketing plan, sample chapters, production details, a section on the competition and a section on how the book would be promoted. I knew nothing about this when I started. I had to find it all out online and through books as I bumped along the road to publishing. I spent the good part of a year just writing the proposal. I hadn't even gotten to the book yet. Nonfiction Book Proposals Anybody Can Write by Elizabeth Lyon became my bible. In the early stages, I hired a writing coach in Seattle at The Writer's Workshop who gave constructive feedback on my proposal and, more than anything, helped me stay on task by holding me to deadlines.

My husband, the former monk turned yoga teacher, played an important role in this process, too. He was my sounding board, my life coach and my cheerleader. His calming nature and belief in what I was doing really helped me get through it. He'd sit for hours listening to me read back what I had written. During a private yoga session with a client who already had two books under her belt, he got word of a freelance editor in Seattle who used to be an acquisitions editor at a major publishing house. While we were out staining our fence one hot, summer afternoon, he said, "You really should call that woman." So I did and I'm so glad I did.

It helped to work with a freelance editor who had been on the other side of publishing. I learned so much from her. She helped me refine my proposal. The thing is, working with a freelance editor is not cheap and there are no guarantees. You could spend a great deal of money on advice, coaching and editing and still not have a book deal in the end.

As many before me have probably mentioned, a lot of it has to do with timing. But more than timing, you need serious commitment. If you are really committed to your project, you are willing to take whatever time and whatever measures are needed to see it become a book. You need to believe in what you are writing about and it helps if you have a reason for writing it or an author's purpose. In my case, I'm writing my story because I believe I have something important to share that will help others realize their own purpose or potential.

On occasion, my husband has entered my writing room and found me, head on the keyboard, completely burned out from writing. In most cases, I haven't showered, eaten, nor seen the light of day. He's had to wing it for meals and housekeeping has completely gone by the wayside. But he never complains. Instead, he comes over to the computer, kisses me and says, "I'm proud of you, you are doing a great job," or he gently lets me know that perhaps I should turn off the computer and come to bed.

After several years, and through what I call "some mysterious workings of the universe," I not only received agent representation, but I also a got a book deal. Some of my friends believe it happened a little too easily for me, but what they can't see is that I put in a lot of legwork. I believed, with every ounce of my being, that it would become a book. I never veered once from this goal. I put every single ounce of myself into it. It was not a walk in the park. In fact, while writing my story, I had to relive quite a bit of pain and I often wondered why I was putting myself through it all again.

I've finally finished writing the book, 287 some pages of it. Yet it is not REALLY finished until it's sandwiched between two covers or until I can walk into Barnes and Noble and hold a copy of it in my hands.

No, it was definitely NOT a walk in the park, but neither is life. And, truthfully, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Note: Lessons from the Monk I Married is due out in bookstores across North America in spring 2012.

This was reposted from my blog: Lessons from the Monk I Married

Loving India

2011-01-28T07:29:00.000-08:00

My heart brims over with joy and pride as I watch India's tricolor flutter high above the grandeur of New Delhi's Rajpath. India is celebrating her 62nd Republic Day, and though I stand still as the National Anthem rents the air, my heart is in a frenzy of emotion. It's that time of the year again, when the soulful notes of "Jana Gana Mana," "Vande Maataram," and "Maa Tujhe Salam" remind me about my love for this land, my adoration of the essence and spirit of this great nation that we today refer to as India. Known through the ages by names like Bhaarat and Aryavarta.

This is the land where people have converged from time immemorial in search of peace. Where the chaos of everyday living has cast an illusory veil over the oasis of peace that only the truest seeker is fortunate to discover. A land where kings and queens have lived in immaculate palaces alongside hermitages where monks revelled in the ecstasy of the palace within. Where the idea of "Aham Brahmasmi" or "I am Divinity" has defined the tradition of Sanathana Dharma, that is today known as 'Hinduism.'

Here is where the form of Ganesha adorns nearly every living room; where Krishna is incomplete without Radha; and where the Goddess is as powerful, if not more, than the Gods. Where the relationship between human and God is made personal, so that the divine is never thought to be too high up or too far away to experience. After all, Ganesha is only a glance away, and Saraswati only a song away.

The very concept of India suggests a freedom where Spirit is not shackled by name and form. I open my heart to the love of Christ as much as I do to the grace of Krishna. The Azaan from the mosque stirs my soul, very much like a soulful chant from the Vedas does. The Gurbaani sung in a Gurdwara brings tears to the eyes, even as a devotional song to Sai Baba rouses a wave of devotion within me.

This land is ironical in that it allows me to get mired in ritual, yet it also gives me the choice to rise above ritual and, thereby, unravel some of the deepest mysteries of life. I can choose to worship a river by offering flowers to it every day. Or, I can choose to embrace the idea behind this ritual. The idea that the river is a metaphor for life itself. A cyclical journey that begins and ends in the ocean. Like the soul's journey that begins from the Spirit and ultimately culminates in union with the Spirit.

The dancers performing on Rajpath are dressed in vibrant colors. Their energetic performance is followed by a serene procession of monks singing buddhist chants. So typical of India. I like to think of her as a splash of myriad colors painted on one canvas. She is calm like the waters of a placid lake, yet she can be tumultous like waves in the grip of a tempest. She showers you with the love of a mother, and molds you with the strength of a father. She is both, the beauty of the rose and the prick of its thorns.

My gaze wanders back to the tricolor. I am mesmerized by the saffron, green, and white. Each color is symbolic, each pattern laden with meaning. Just like so much else about India. A world within worlds, where every seeker finds their own path. I found mine here, and I have much to be grateful for. From the depths of my heart, I sing to her "Maa Tujhe Salaam!" (Glory to thee, O Mother!)

(Also posted on my blog)