Guns Don't Matter

Events on Friday in Newton, Ct are a horrific reminder that tragedies do not take holidays into consideration.

            In comparison to tsunamis, hurricanes, spreading cancers and climate change, the death toll is relatively small, but being man-made and with victims so innocent, we struggle to understand the terrifying implications.  We seek relief in arguments for gun-control and advocacy for mental health care as if these might absolve us from looking at the larger issue of violence in our stressful society.

            Coinciding with the near end of the Mayan Calendar, this with other world events proves to be some reasonable argument that the world is ending too.

            But I don't believe it for an instant.

            The end of this world as we know it might be a good thing. Some things should definitely be dispatched. This good Earth is strong and I believe we shall muddle along for eons.  Books like Hank Wesselman's "Spiritwalker." suggest life might be very primitive once again at the end of the next 6,500 year cycle and still we will love and dance, eat heartily and wonder at the stars beyond.

            There are those who predict we will merge with the stars, our astral travelling souls will blend with the Universal energy that makes us all One.  We might discover the Internet is merely a tool to teach us to communicate telepathically.

            The particular deaths on Friday are tragic and senseless, painful to contemplate.  As sad as I am, however, keeping prayers in my heart, I wish to celebrate the heroics of the moment and grow frustrated with the impossible and unrelenting speculation and probing as to why.

            Beyond comprehension, we must accept there is purpose in everything, even in this.  Hold faith that we can do our part to make the next moments better.  We must put one foot before the other, tending to the wounded in Newton, cleaning up the messes along the Mid-Atlantic Coast, rebuilding Japan and ending wars in Afgahnistan and the Middle East.

           Feeling love and being loved, I find there is so much to live for.  Not richer nor poorer, I am grateful for my health and well-being.  I grieve for the pain of these tragedies and welcome the celebration that still resonates in my heart for just being alive.

            "Love is all we need," sang John Lennon.

            Love is the best we have to give.

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The Music Never Stops

About once a decade, musicians gather together and pool their incredible talents in a single concert broadcast around the world to raise relief funds for some disaster. It’s impossible not to be swept up in the magic of the moment.


For a brief time, there’s no “us” or “Them”, no rich or poor, white, black or Latino. The world is united and everyone is giving. It’s all about giving, all about heart.

I love to watch the emotions of celebrities who have so much be so thrilled to pitch in and offer their share. Squabbles subside. Struggles seem trivial compared to the bigger picture and every one knows it.

There was much talk today about celebrating on this perfect day of 12-12-12, but the concert tonight brings smiles far beyond expectations. When people really give from their hearts, they find a sweet euphoria.

Even the tragedy is celebrated.

The hard work is set aside. The tears are less in sorrow and more for gratitude. Somehow, no matter how tough things are, when people come together, they find a strength in community that makes everything alright.

The heroism is acclaimed. The survivors become thrivers. Hope becomes manifest and all becomes possible.

And the music is pretty good too!

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In Love

We're down to just a matter of days now before the acclaimed date of December 21, 2012.  Already, as I write this in most parts of the world, it is the symmetrical and picture perfect 12-12-12.

            Easy to think that this will be just another day and notice we're all in the holiday spirit with little regard for the End of the World as heralded by the end of the Mayan calendar.

       

     Yet from all types of people and on many channels of media, I hear comments, wry jokes, dire predictions and surreptitious musings.  Many in my realm meditate in preparation, cleansing souls to purify the energy.

            The stock market was up a few points today.  People died in conflict around the world.  Babies were born and each of us must make the decisions about how we face the dawn.

            Like any other day, the consequences of our actions will be direct results of our thoughts, intentions and interactions.  We are in control more than many of us believe.  We create our own destinies.

            For those who scoff and say life will go on, of course it will.  Those who think of apocalypse may likely find a way to destroy their own and possibly other lives.

            Many of us are taking notice and deciding that we can make small differences that add up to an enormous change.  As the Berlin Wall peacefully collapsed when we were ready, toppled by mutual consent, the boundaries between cultures are evaporating and we are becoming One.

            Despite angry headlines, the majority of us live in peace, rely on our families and neighbors, and are kind to strangers.  We strive to better our lives and raise our arms to embrace.

            We believe in there being a higher purpose and a spirit that gives meaning to our lives.  We look forward with hope and behind with gratitude.

            Despite our daily struggles, the world is a wonderful place and feeling love is a warm fire in the heart that makes us sing with joy.

 

            If my world should end next week...or tomorrow...or fifty years from now, I will still have regrets for things I already cannot undo, but I move forward each step each day as best I can to be fearless, valiant and vulnerable.  I strive to listen to my heart and give without need of reciprocation, to love without question and appreciate gifts in whatever form.

            So many are opening hearts, love can carry us ever forward.

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Realignment

Another day of significance with planets aligned strategically and incomprehensibly passes around and through us. This was the day when Mercury, Venus and Saturn would stand directly over the three pyramids at Giza.

            Instead of being energized, however, I feel eclipsed, my brain so dense and full of mush, I crashed comatose on my couch at 8 PM. Curiously, dreams long unremembered are suddenly so vivid and intense, I seem to be awake in my sleep.

            This morning I am unable to concentrate and unwilling to go about my business as usual.

            In the past, we might categorize this as a bad hair day or take a pill to alleviate flu-like lethargy.  By sleeping it off, we can shrug it off without connection.

            I am guessing, though, that others feel this tug.  If the gravitational pull of the moon can affect our oceanic tides, then why not the alignment of planets magnetize the flow of our blood?

            Now we have the will, the awareness and the tools to compare our experiences around the world.  We can recognize patterns and establish connections.

            As I struggle this morning to go about my usual business, intuition directs me to focus on the heavy-headedness in my brain.  Instead of fighting "through" it, embrace it.  Without plan, I sit down and meditate.  My eyes close and my mantra steadies my breath.

            Illumination and clarity are nearly immediate.  All worry dissipates.  My list of "shoulds" vanishes.

            In place of confusion glows a perfect knowing that this moment is precious and as it should be.  I am where I am supposed to be: here and now.  It feels right to sit quietly, to notice the calmer energy and connect with my soul which races outwards into the Universe and hovers over the pyramids, my imagination, over myself and over all others, an enfolding and embracing of life and living ecstatic and fulfilled, all encompassing and re-energizing.

            As quickly as it started, I am back in my body, ready to make that call and go about my day.  With these few words scribbled, I anchor the moment in the heart and re-establish the connection with all around me.

            Even as I go out into a cold rain and miserable temperature, it feels glorious to be alive.

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Round and Rounder

This is a weekend of gratitude. 

            Thanksgiving is perhaps the most American tradition, crossing all boundaries of religion, ethnicity and politics.  For this one day after the elections and before the shopping intensity, as a nation, we pause to bless, love and appreciate.

            Beyond the feast and companionship, my favorite part is to walk outside in the late afternoon and hear in the silence the splendid noise of peace and contentment, knowing all are participating in that moment of tradition.  No matter where they are, everyone seems to accept and rejoice that they are at least where (and with whom) they are supposed to be.

            Life stops even as we recognize and celebrate how beautifully it goes on and on.

            In the meantime, Mercury is retrograde, meaning even as it goes forward, it is in a position of appearing to go backwards, a phenomenon that happens typically for six weeks three times a year.

            Having scoffed in my youth at the idea that bad luck could have any connection to the stars, I have seen too many alignments over the years to ignore my internal calendar now.  It intrigues me how often I can be struggling, check the chart and confirm that indeed the wily planet is retrograde again.

            Most often it disturbs communication.  This week my email crashed and I have been misunderstanding conversations that should have been very simple.  It is a time to be careful our reactions are not overly dramatic, burning bridges that might be better left standing.

            For me, the energy that drives my creativity lacks its usual luster.  I stumble indecisively and wrestle with false starts seeming to head down paths leading nowhere.  Inspiration quickly fizzles or never appears as I ponder projects and turn to something else.

            Like trying to walk in mud above my knees, the effort to move forward feels too heavy a step.  I strain against it and pause with heavy breath, wondering where the abundance lies that so many promise is simply a function of my thoughts.

            Shadows dance.  The laughter of many gremlins grown strong from my past foibles shriek instructions to step left or right, confusing my internal faith with the doubt and fear of so many implications.  The mud is real and so difficult to wash away with thoughts of gratitude when I have chosen to spend this time alone and still miss my friends and family.

            Fortunately all cycles move into new phases and by Monday, Mercury will go blessedly direct again (not that it ever was going any other direction than forward).  My mind will miraculously clear in the midst of productive activity. 

            I am no less thankful for these quiet weeks of emotional frustration.  Pain makes us question our choices and resolve to make amends.  Rather than wallow in the mire, I observe and accept the connection, reducing its fury even as I acknowledge the influence.  I forgive myself for my swollen brain, too obese with thoughts for any clarity.  I learn lessons in my discomfort and rejoice that light in the distance begins to illuminate and dissipate the shadows at my sluggish feet.

            As it quickly approaches, more and more people are focusing on the date of December 21, 2012 with curiosity and conviction as a time of major shift.  It takes very little research to discover that the stars and planets in our galaxy actually are conjoining into a significant and unusual pattern and we are at the beginning of new 6,500 and 26,000 year cycles in our solar system.

            Doomsdayers predict an end to the world.  Luminaries and Seekers believe we are entering an age of more heart-centered communion compared to 6,500 years of struggle for survival and the false belief that material wealth might ensure that survival.

            Our thoughts can create the reality we fear or embrace.  The choice is ours to live in panic and reaction or to love our surroundings, each other and ourselves. 

            Interesting times...

            How clear is your head today?

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Pick a Little, Talk a Little

The transformation of our lives is not an easy process. We want to think there is a distinct “before” and “after”, a beginning and end. We want it to be something we get through and then are done with, free and clear on the other side of trouble and lack.


Time proves, however, that the transformation is never truly complete. Even our death, apparently, is not an end, but simply a shift into a new way of being, a reincarnation, a spiritual dance in another dimension, or just the leisurely nine lives of a cat, resting up before beginning all over again.

In truth, we move from these moments to moments, experiencing the highs and lows sometimes in perfect and exhilarating understanding and others mystified and oblivious. We crave purpose and meaning and sometimes act in ways that utterly defy logic. We yearn for definition in everything and celebrate magic in the most important.

Life is a mystery and our faith in everything and nothing keeps us going.

This tirade is born out of a weekend of frustration, stumbling along with no real purpose, motivation or imagination. For no understandable reason and despite surroundings of hope and prosperity, I went through the motions of participation and internally despaired.

Since my conversation with the wonderful astrologer Tom Lescher last month, I have been on a spiritual vacation. The hiatus was neither planned nor comfortable, but simply evolved out of earthly distractions and requirements that focused my attention directly on the steps right in front of me. One foot in front of the other, one moment to the next, in the now, but more drone-like than monk, I have persevered.

Having professed and committed to the idea that abundance is directly related to the pursuit of passion, it was disturbing to notice in how many ways I have been abandoning those very activities reacquired that make me feel so passionate and powerful. It culminated this weekend in a lethargy so frustrating, darkness and dawns came and went and fear mounted that my purpose seemed to wallow in a state of non-purpose.

Like an Escher print that has two different images, depending on our focus, my world hovered between two perceptions. No matter how much I celebrated the one intellectually, my heart seemed sobered by a more dismal projection.

Movement seems to be a key to relinquishing the chains. Instead of moping and staying settled in the darkness, shaking myself physically was the antidote to the doldrums that had weighed so heavily. I played soccer. I forced myself through some chores that had been necessary. I drove myself in circles around town and tried not to worry about it, but allowed the pleasure of the golden leaves to be enough.

Most importantly, in these rougher times, judgment should be suspended. If we allow the flow to stop flowing once in a while and settle in to the darkness, the dawn of a new day can seem quite beautiful and a welcome transformation from the troubled and sleep-depriving thoughts. A month without writing essays or networking emails does not necessarily portend regression, but can simply be a re-alignment, a change of pitchers or just one of those precious nine lives of resting cashed in as part of an auspicious purpose.

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Lightshine

Upon hearing that I am looking for a roommate to help with expenses now that my son is off to college, a well-meaning friend advised that I should choose someone young, fresh and full of energy.

            "The kind of man your age," it was suggested, "Who would be able only  to rent a room would indicate struggle and you need no more of that in your life."

            Like seeing that my apartment is "on the wrong side of the tracks" as opposed to being on an acre of land by the side of a river, the view of my external life can easily overshadow the brilliance of faith and spirit that illuminates my core.  My friend loves me well for who I am, but the advice hits home as hard as the tree fallen in a rash summer storm.

            We each know the internal song that resounds in the heart, but our voices may not always resonate as strongly and in tune as we wish to sing.  At times, the struggle can over-whelm and dim our spirits.

            Another friend recently confided that it is difficult to hold a faith in God's love when her husband lost his job and ten years of impeccable effort has yet to re-secure any solid footing on the ground they once took for granted.  No apparent crime in their past seems to justify the price of daily stress and sacrifice they have to suffer to keep a roof over their children's heads.  That others may have it worse is little consolation.

            Last winter, I weaned myself from my father's financial help and, physically and emotionally healed, have once again set myself on the road of living with passion and pursuing my dreams.  Immediately, there has been a corresponding decline in the number of blog entries and creative projects.  Once again, my guitar rarely sees the light of an opened case.

            Still other friends have suggested that the apparent lack of financial prosperity today may have something to do with integrity.  The karmic bill of running a business too short on stability and long on promises may be taking its toll now and in future lives until I make emotional restitution to the demons of my past decisions.

            This morning before dawn, I awoke with a beating heart, compulsively recounting bills and affirming there is not enough income to make ends meet. If I were content to sit at home with no internet connection and no interest in paying my son's tuition, at least I have reached the point that expenses could easily be met and there would be no need for a roommate nor sign of financial struggle. 

            If I could live without the love of friends and family, I could be doing quite well, thank you very much...

            But for most of us, that is impossible and certainly unacceptable.  Every time I think the message is to not give away so much, but take care of myself first, I lose sight of the rich and fecund forest right outside my door and think it must be a lot better over there on the other side of the tracks.

            Our faith is reflected in the love of those around us and regenerated in the way we take care of each other.  How we live is a better indication of our worth than where we live.  So each day, those terrifying thoughts that force me to open my eyes must be shoved aside by the actions of pushing my pen across this page, allowing the love to flow and my faith in the purpose of life to be restored.

            The danger comes when we are so absorbed in the math, we lose our grip on the love that surrounds us.  Fear builds walls and contracts our energy into reactive improvisations.  The weeds grow thick among the trees and our forests become polluted and full of junk or clear-cut for profit.

            Love is expansive, cutting through the tangles and radiating outwards like sunshine that draws others out of their own dark places.  Our faith is a choice, something available to us like a warm blanket in every chilling moment.  It is nurtured and affirmed by action.

            No matter our age or the amount of struggle, the more we open our hearts and love each other, the more brilliance is radiated from this tiny planet into the dark recesses of this vast and wonderful universe.

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Rising Moon Over Disorientation

The full moon energy is strong tonight. Mercury is retrograde for another week. In Vermont, we've already had May and it's only April.

No wonder my head is swirling.

On an earthly plane, very few words have been scribbled on this blog or notes strummed on my guitar in the past few months. The creative energy is on hold while I wrestle (once again) with the effort to pay bills on the table and gas in the car.

Intently focused for days in a row on that purpose, on the specific and unending tasks of putting order into my life, by tonight, my ability to concentrate seems to have vanished and I wander around in a daze. Doing a little carpentry, I can't find my tape measure. Researching the internet for details to put in a content article, I stare at the screen unable to discern which link I should click.

Where do I want to go anyway?

It is so easy for us to get lost in our minds, swept away by events of the day and endless tasks that must be accomplished. Our minds are focused and concentrated, yet we seem to be on auto-pilot, cerebrally detached from the activities in front of us.

The phrase "Stop and smell the roses" comes to mind. In this fog of over-activity, it is important to look around and remind yourself what this effort is for. We are so constantly bombarded with information and demands for our attention, we can lose sight of the real treasures. The love for what we do can fade into invisibility.

Breathe.

Turn away from the computer. Pull to the side of the road. Turn off the television. Lay down your tool. Look at the sky. Take in the magnificent wonder of the full moon as it rises over your life and reassures you that there is something deeper, far more powerful going on.

Sit down and stare at the water trickling past in a stream alongside or even out of the faucet. Drink of the sustenance that nature provides in every moment if we can only remember to consider its beauty. In every day, there must be moments when the rush and hustle of activity is suspended to exercise the vital organs within.

Full or new, the moon shines on us with love. The sun radiantly infuses us with energy. The spectacular mountain rising overhead is no more grand than the intricate anthill and its complex system of order and chaos. In every moment, there is the opportunity to rediscover the miracle of our lives.

Whether I write, sing or simply appreciate it in the silent moment of my own self, pausing to regenerate my spirit is the ultimate activity that makes all the rest productive with meaning instead of just one more over-whelming task.

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Guest Post: Kate Loving Shenk

As I have been so very busy of late pursuing other projects, I am pleased to present Kate Loving Shenk, an internet friend of mine met last summer through a telesummit about writing transformational books.  Kate is leaping forward with fierce determination to spread good prayers in the world and I invite you to get to know her work a little better.


(There's a pause button on the music icon to the right so you can hear her better)



Welcome to day # 3 of the Prayer Prescription: Spiritual Remedies For Long Lasting Health Virtual Book Tour! Kip is gracious to feature my book on his blog today, and I thank him very much.

I joke around in this video about Zen and the Art of the Prayer Prescription, a take off on Kip's own book, Zen And The Art Of The Mid-Life Crisis. Let's face it, we all have such a crisis, at one time if not more times in our lives. I started writing prayers as a last ditch attempt to save my own life, because various family issues were looming precariously over a cliff, and my beloved dogs were soon going to pass on to the next dimension.

Writing prayers has a calming effect on the psyche. When the inside is at peace, nothing on the outside can go wrong. The harmonizing effect of prayer tends to quiet the mind and brings peace to every other mind, also. It truly is a miracle.

Thank you for celebrating the publication of my book with Kip and me. The book is due for publication in mid to end of May.

-=-=-=-=-=

I'd like you to stop by my author blog. There's a lot going on there and we'll have an opportunity to connect there. Please be sure to introduce yourself!

http://katelovingshenk.com

Kate has been a practicing RN/CRNP for 28 years, and currently acts as a Labor And Delivery Nurse, which is very special, indeed.

Additionally, Kate is planning further “Prayer Prescriptions” books surrounding aging gracefully and Prayer Prescriptions For The Love Of Our Companion Animals.

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The Proof is in the Coffee

Like duct tape, Coffee, it seems, can cure anything. 

            Some times the simplest of tasks can cause the biggest frustrations.  We can have done something over and over, but for some reason, the tried and true method is bollixed by a flurry of miscues that makes you think the world is conspiring to ruin the result.

            This week it was a sink fixture that should have completed the shortlist for a renovation and allowed my friend to move into his new apartment.  What had begun as a simple concept for a short term transition between leaving one home and ending in another soon to be built had become stressful with complications. 

            My friend was impatient and unsettled, past ready to be free of the dust and unpacked, comfortable before his treasured 52" HDTV.  The clutter of construction within earshot of his business was distracting while the boxes of books awaiting distribution on newly painted shelves and bed requiring assembly was disorienting.  He desperately needed the kitchen sink to work to fix himself some calming tea.

            No problem, I assured him and set to work on the heavy cast-iron enameled monstrosity, purchased by my friend as a great deal from an architectural salvage warehouse, and the top-of-the-line famous name brand faucet to match from a box store chain.

            I attached the faucet, sprayer and double drains in good time, applied the caulk and laid the behemoth into the newly cut hole in the fresh countertop.  It was a struggle to align the two drains with the redirected main, but a little creativity accomplished the effort and all seemed to fit perfectly.  

            When I turned it on to test, however, the trickle of drops was disappointing (to say the least). While there was plenty of pressure in the pipes and had been to the previous sink, this flow of water would never wash a crumb from a plate.

            My friend, seeing both his job and personal life in chaos became more distressed and adamant that the fix must be quickly found, and in his upset, implied a threat to the very friendship itself.

            The name brand customer service was exemplary and over-nighted the only parts that could possibly be a problem.  In an hour, I took apart the sink, replaced the parts, the caulk and reset the weighty cast-iron kerthunk into its hole.  The flow was no better, however, and this time the drain dripped into the cabinet.

            To go through the entire process yet again, we decided not to risk the unlikely possibility that the flaw was in the design, so my friend went back to choose a much more standard faucet.  I took it all apart again, re-puttied the drains, secured the new faucet with separate sprayer, cleaned and reapplied the caulk, heaved the sink back into place and crossed my fingers.

            At least the pressure in the flow was much more acceptable, but now there was a leak in the same diverter to the sprayer as seemed to be the problem in the first faucet.  Cleaning and re-inserting the connection several times made no difference.  It seemed to be another faulty part, another faulty faucet from a different top-name brand and a different box store.

            What for so many years has just been two simple connections, in the name of progress and efficiency, has become much more complicated with parts to parts and a 14 step set of directions that begins with "Carefully remove items from the box..."  Apparently I had missed a step, but I was clueless as to a solution and formulating the words to inform my friend that a better plumber was needed and perhaps a better friend.

            The cup of coffee saved all.

            I walked away.  I filled my cup, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and imagined a soft sandy beach or blanket of powder snow.  I slurped and prayed and contemplated my navel and our great friendship for several minutes before heading back inside, motivated for a fifth and final attempt.

            This time, having done nothing differently but a few sips of coffee, after five minutes of vigilant and awestruck staring, I could find no leak at all and the steady flow at the tap soon put my friend's anguish to rest.

            Life is full of struggles large and small, but the solutions are not always easy to find in the set of directions that may or may not come in the package.  Items that seem like a bargin are often more problematic in actuality and old habits do not necessarily have to be updated.

            Sometimes there are no proofs at all, but spirit (however we want to define it), with a good cup of coffee, just makes it so.

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New Year Revolution

       With six loads of laundry folded before the sun was even up on New Years morning, I wish I could say I had felt accomplished.  The truth, however, was that in that damp dark dawn we call a holiday, I was awake too early and alert with fear and worry about what may or may not lie ahead.

       In the darkness, it is too easy to become overwhelmed by the prospect of matching all that should be done and could be done with what is realistically possible.  Like shadows against the moon, expectations grow larger.  Resources seem to shrink.  Complicating the perspective,  the prayers and concerns of family and friends have more influence, darkening the impact of what they might think should I succeed or fail.

       In the bright glare of the laundry light are three other men I know to be older and single doing this task at such a ridiculous hour because we have no one else to be with, a sad bond that none of us acknowledges with even a sideways glance.  In our own isolated worlds, we sort and fold and keep ourselves busy on the internet in between to keep ourselves intent on tasks instead of thinking.

Attitude is everything

       The fact is that the laundry is a necessary accomplishment and leaves me free to pursue other things in the day wearing the bright colors of my favorite shirt that had been stuffed away since last week.  The mind has created the fear while the body has actually crossed something off the list.

       The state of my own emotions project realities on myself and others that may have little to do with the actual truth, but only my thoughts are making it so.  None of these men may be as morose as I think, but are simply taking advantage of the time, doing their work and play, and are ultimately content. 

     Although I smell of loneliness at the laundry, in this version of a locker room, we have the opportunity to model for each other that life goes on even without a woman to feed and please us and more importantly to be a companion through thick and thin.  In this moment, my mind creates, defines and judges the difference.

Look Deeper and See the Surface

       I can trudge through the darkness full of weary sighs expressing the sad fact of such lonely feelings or step by step ponder the choices that have led me here to this place of quiet self-conversation.  The light and the darkness are both within my reach.  The steps I am taking are the same and only my head struggles to make sense.

       The chatter of many other voices can fill my quiet and surround me with coulds and shoulds from their own perspectives.  Having taken big risks and committed to love several times over, danced in the circle and held little ones close, plenty of eyes watch and wonder.  With the best of intentions and varying degrees of emotional investment, they are still waiting for something more solid to rise from the ashes and their anxious presence affects my mood.

       The challenge is to sit in the pre-dawn silence and listen to the song of my own voice.  These others are principals in their particular stories, but only characters in mine.  Focused on my own heart, I must apply filters and go deep within to find the clarity and assurance that will create the day of sunshine we all want for each other.

For Better or Worse

       The journey has brought me here.  My dusty floor and half-finished cabinets, this pile of laundry are evident because I have focused on scribbling these many words that have landed on the pages of my book instead of making my environment tidy.  That is an accomplishment!

       Some can do both.  I apparently have issues or at least value other combinations that may or may not make sense to even me much less to anyone else, but they are mine nevertheless.  I am not victim, but choose to wear them proudly on my sleeve.

       That we have choices is the key to remember in the darkness amidst the swirl of indecisions.  It is important to forgive ourselves for being occasionally immobilized or confused.  Without that, our footsteps get slower and slower, the laundry piles up and the bright colors of my favorite shirt remain buried where they have no chance to brighten my spirits.

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Breathing In, Breathing Out

In a few days we begin the year that some believe will be the end of the world.  I prefer to add the phrase "as we know it" and join in the celebrations around the world that predict a marvelous transformation of fear into love.

            The energy is mounting.  More and more, I find myself in cosmic conversations that blissfully dance around images of joy.  Beatific smiles grace the voices on many different venues where people feel more free to describe the sense that wonderful events are unfolding.

            I recognize that I am in Vermont where progressive ideas are common place, but the internet proves to me that the euphoria spreads like a wildfire of coals even the most timid may soon be brave enough to walk upon.  In grocery stores, at high school soccer games, on talk shows and seminars, in a wealth of books printing from many presses, the joyful tales are told how spirit is rising in so many of us.

            After a lifetime of work, I have published my own book.  The sense of pride and satisfaction to hold a copy in my hand is immense, complimented wonderfully by the gentle "pling" of an email's arrival to announce another copy purchased.

            My ego is less salved by the effort, however, than that I am proud to be contributing one more story about leaving expectations behind and pursuing a more heartfelt way of life.  Some of my family and friends are at a complete loss of patience and lack of understanding for my leap into this blatant and unapologetic revelation of my embarrassing secrets.  I hope anyone reading it will find resonance in the description of finding faith and meaning in embracing the parts of myself that are the truest expression of my heart.

          To leap into one's faith, to invest in the unsupported belief that intuition will lead to a more secure happiness than following rational rules is a scary act to take.  I am full of fear and fighting my conscience every hour to keep panic at bay.  With no solid job in sight, no reliable income to pay my rent stored in the bank, I can shudder with fright, nearly immobilized if I ponder too long.

            Listening to headlines and watching the news, the world does not seem to be a safe place.  My job search supports the theory that the economy is desperately slow, trying to hold itself together, but is ultimately a pyramid scheme heading for an inevitable crash.  Grim faces struggle around me to make ends meet.  More diseases from a toxic environment take the lives of friends.  We still insist on making war on terrorists by broadening the definition to include just about anyone, even our own citizens occupying their right to freely assemble and speak.

            Sleep-broken nights for several weeks have been terrorizing my own balance.  Taking on a carpentry job to make ends meet this month is counter-intuitive to my claims two years ago that doing so ever again could mean a fall much worse than from my scaffold.  Having one book in my hand, my heart aches to scribble loftier thoughts instead of calculate the inches between two by fours.

            Despite the fear, compromises must be made for now.

            Relief comes when I remember my promises to my heart.  While I breathe between hammer strokes, I consider that my purpose may be in doubt, my faith once again jeopardized by the pursuit of dollars, but my heart strives to hold strong.

            The power is in the breathing.  With each conscious inhalation, I remember that these are all steps, small steps in a large life, leading to something I cannot see. I have hopes and dreams.  I trust what I feel and know what I know. No clear thought enlightens me to get ahead, but the simple act of breathing, the concentration on the very simple action itself, stops my mind from wandering and gives me life.

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Good Cheer

           Christmas morning early around the world children are waking up with visions of wrappings torn from their packages.  Parents hold hands and are proud, joyful and loving to hear the delighted screams.  The day of peace on earth and good will seems abundant with truth and beauty.

            Other religions have their celebrations of light in this time of short days and dark nights.  Spirits are rich with giving and tolerance.

            So quickly, however, the new year comes and we are immersed in the struggles and surrenders of daily lives.  Mortgages and rents must be paid.  Food scrounged and purchased.  This day of celebration is an oasis for many, a time when stress is suspended and we gather together to honor and appreciate what is most important. Families share, friends reach out.  We hold to what is most sacred in our lives.

            This morning, I awake alone at a friend's house where I am caring for animals.  By choice, I am isolated and separate from festivities.  Economics plays a part, but consciously in this time of togetherness, I am meditating on what it is to be alone.

            Ultimately, no matter the strong bonds of families, friends and lovers, we are each leading our own separate lives, creating a unique story of our steps on this planet.  We variously depend on and fend off from each other as energies shift.  We insulate and embrace according to sometimes arbitrary-seeming impulses and commands.

            Throughout our lives, however, is a consistent undercurrent of connection, a pattern of flow that unites us more than keeps us apart.  No matter the singularity of our thoughts and the self-preservation of our egos, we all recognize that life is empty of meaning without sharing.  True wealth is measured by the company we keep close to our hearts.

            On any given day, we may feel alone and desperate, isolated from those we see laughing with hugs and kisses.  Our own life may feel more troubled in comparison to who we might see in a bigger house or a fancier car, surrounded by others in merriment.

            It is simply their moment to shine while we witness from the shadows.  On a holiday such as this, most of us make the effort to surround ourselves in gratitude with those who are important in our lives.  We celebrate our loved ones and relish the joy of our creations. We give to each other and receive bountiful pleasure in return.  We make the effort.

            Being alone is a choice.  Scrooge was shown that his own actions had created the reality that kept him miserable.  Joy is always just a heartbeat away.  Whether we have a lifelong history together or are just passing the person next to us, we can look in their eye and find the soul who is longing to smile.

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Heart-centered Holidays

           As the days of December darken into winter, holidays ignite magic into our hearts, creating light to find our way.  Be it Christmas, the Solstice festivals, Hanukah or Kwanzaa, the time is of celebration and gratitude for all the gifts material and metaphysical that we have received.

            Tinsel and glitter, red cheeks and candles, song and festivities create sparkling energy.  We eat too many cookies, dance with our friends and carol to our neighbors.  We give gifts and acknowledge the love for those around us.

            December, unfortunately, is also a time of great stress.  As if to counter the darkness, we can be caught in a frenzy of materialism that attacks with pepper spray in a Walmart to get the best deal.  Strained and compulsive, while our children are all safe with visions of sugarplums in their heads, we scurry about frantically, shopping late every night and maxing out credit cards instead.

            To balance the frantic motion, I  offer a teleseminar conference this Wednesday December 14th and Thursday the 15th focused on creating a heart-centered holiday.  Through interviews with authors and coaches, we look at the little rituals and celebrations that hold the spirit strong and remind us of the deeper importance of the time.

            You can register for the program here and receive a collection of short stories about transformations of lives that can happen in an instant. Each writer will also offer a bonus gift particular to their interest at the end of their interview.

            In true alignment with heart and soul, writing is a transformative process.  When troubled by doubt and uncertainty, in the act of scribbling in a journal or creating a novel, answers once looming vaguely transparent in the distant mist, come more clearly into focus. We are all writers in our own ways and these conversations will encourage listeners to find your own style for a deeper understanding of what connects you to the rest of the world.

            In addition to fireside chats of stories and spiritual affirmations, this webinar through your computer or phone, also celebrates the release of my transformational book “Zen & the Art of the Midlife Crisis”, a memoir about the process of recognizing and shedding the parts of life that are not working to follow a path more centered from heart and living with purpose.  By looking deeply at choices and influences of the past, I am better able to steer my life into the future and encourage readers to make similar choices.

            Registering for the Heart-centered Holidays Teleseminar right here and now is at absolutely no cost and ensures two peaceful evenings of insight and affirmation that the world is indeed full of love, compassion, serenity and support.

            Please join us in celebration of all that glitters and is truly gold.

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Love Over Gold

          The test of my true faith has come upon me.  Far later than is healthy for any man, I have accepted one last parting gift from my father and step out into the world once again on my own.

          No longer tested like some Job broken-hearted on my sofa with a tube in my belly and dreams in my head, today I go forth strong, healthy, and loved to find my way, earn my keep and leave no mess behind. 

          Life is wonderful.  I have no cause for complaint, no reason to doubt myself. 

            The test of my faith is the belief that I deserve the riches of love, trust, loyalty and good fortune here laid before me.  The true challenge is not to qualify and prevaricate, wonder about my worth and settle for half, thinking I am lucky enough for that.

            When disaster has struck in the past and hopes were dashed, I have consoled myself with the belief that life comes with both the good and the bad.  Lumps must be taken and swallowed, and the pieces picked up.  My faith seemed to be hinged on survival and pushing forward against the trials, over-coming instead of embracing.  My story reflects that belief.

            Today, I walk boldly into a new life with the restructured understanding that my mind creates my reality and I expect to find the world of my dreams where I live my passion, celebrate my joy, learn from my pain and live fully from my heart.  There is no more or less.

            Love over fear.

            The victory is mine.  Each and every moment, I have the choice to look at the two diverging paths and remember one is not one and the other the other.  Both are love and the choice vanishes as soon as I step forward in either direction.

            If we let it, fear creeps in and delivers doubt, creates an insidious dissonance in the question of whether I go this way or that.  Fear pretends there is a better choice between two equals and pries open an unsettled feeling that diminishes the power of faith.  Through that weakened crack pours the negative energy that makes us sabotage the very actions we wish to take.

            Like a mother and father who had divorced.  Trying to find balance in that separation, I have heard one voice urging me to follow dreams and another to just get a good job.  Somewhere my filters distorted the message that the path could be one and the same and both were about love.

           For every "what if I could..." that came to mind, a resounding "What if you can't..." has inevitably followed.  The last fifty years has answered the latter and proven I can still be okay, one foot moving inexorably before the other again and again and again.

            These last four years have put into words the faith that grows stronger within me.  The first heart-felt, intuitive, open-ended and loving question that moves my soul along with my feet is the one worthy of my focus and attention.  I set out this morning by sitting on this couch first moving my hand across these pages with scribbles no less important than the real steps I will take later this afternoon.

            In my head resounds the wonderful memory of the little boy on his mother's lap, one of their favorite books in both their hands, after his father has said good-night with a hug and a kiss and another playful shove.  Her voice so cheerful and strong repeats what she has read to his sisters before and would again many times after, "I think I can, I think I can, I know I can..."

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