Journey of a Thousand Hearts

Time for a Change...

2010-02-23T16:01:00.001-07:00

Hello to my friends and readers of Journey of a Thousand Hearts.
I am writing this post to let you know that I have changed the name and address for my blog.

The new name / domain is: http://www.heartlaw.blogspot.com/

After this post, I will no longer be posting articles to Journey of a Thousand Hearts, but will be posting to the new site, with more of the same artwork, photos and thought-provoking articles.

In fact, I just posted a new article today: THE ALCHEMY OF LOVE

Click here http://www.heartlaw.blogspot.com/ to go to the new site, and sign up to receive updates by e-mail or in a feed-reader. And don't forget to post your comments to an article if you feel so moved...

Thanks again for your support! I appreciate you all..

Love, Melissa

Waiting. . .

2010-02-07T18:07:00.003-07:00

Heroes take journeys,

confront dragons,

and discover the treasure of their true selves.

~Carol Lynn Pearson

________________

Several years ago, at the Art of Music Gallery in Vegas, I saw a charcoal sketch created by rocker Grace Slick. It depicted a nude woman from behind, crouched low with her head sort of tucked to one side in a position befitting the artwork’s simple title, “Waiting.” I stood before it mesmerized.

How often had I felt at the mercy of something outside of myself, waiting ... for the next great idea … waiting for the right relationship to arrive … waiting to connect with my true life purpose … waiting for my big financial break … waiting for this person or that organization to recognize my value and worth … waiting for the day when all the pieces of my life would come together in a cohesive, meaningful way that would finally move me from the waiting list to actually living the life that I had been waiting for.

We’ve all done it to greater or lesser degrees. The offices of psychotherapists are filled with people who can’t quit doing it—this inclination to look to the future and dwell on the past. It’s maddening, and quite possibly our greatest obstacle to finding true happiness and peace of mind. And while counting down the hours, days, weeks and months are human illusions of a quantifiable future, in the final analysis we must ask ourselves: What are we waiting for?

Emancipate yourself from mental slavery;

No one but you can free your mind.

~Bob Marley

Maybe we enjoy a delicious meal with friends or family and, while eating, we’re already talking about what we’re going to eat at our next meal. Or, while gathered with family for Christmas, our discussion turns to how we’ll celebrate the holiday next year—a whole year away. Maybe we’re on a date with someone and we’re wondering about the future of the relationship—where will it go? Or we’re on a fabulous vacation but unable to relax, consumed with a general uneasiness and guilted by all we’ve left behind. Maybe we’ve taken a step in the direction of our dreams, yet the joy of positive action is overshadowed by a million little details that we’ve yet to address and our fear of failure. Why can’t we just enjoy the delicious chocolate mousse with raspberry drizzle?

I’ve asked myself a thousand times, how can we be expected to stay grounded in our experience moment by moment when filled with dreams and desires that require some measure of forward thought, planning, vision, movement, and, yes, waiting, to make them real? Anyone who has pursued higher education, started a business, built a house, had a baby, or lived their dreams with any success will tell you that it doesn’t just happen by waking up in the morning and wishing it so. It takes action, commitment and patience, while the crop ripens or the idea matures.

Consider this: The Hopi Indians view the world as either being manifest now, in the present moment, or in the process of manifesting from the unseen world of Spirit. Their word for this is “tunatyava,” meaning comes true being hoped for. The word contains no verb tenses to indicate past, present or future—everything simply is, although at different stages of being. What is thought or felt in the heart is silently communicated to the Spirit world from which everything manifests. It’s all one continuous cycle of creation. We could learn a few things from the Hopis.

The masterpiece doesn’t create itself;

it must be guided by the artist’s hand.

Perhaps the key lies not in eliminating our forward thought and past reflection all together, but in learning how to constructively work with our thoughts, for we are not our minds--they are great servants when we direct their course but terrible masters when they get on top of us.

Remember, if we spend our time in an anxious state—stuck in the past or obsessing about the future, doing battle with the dragons of worry, guilt, doubt and fear—we may not be free to enjoy the very special and lovely things about this moment. For the only creative moment we ever really have is right now.

Ask yourself:

1. How do I spend my meantime? Do I fill the time battling dragons or do I focus with faith on the gifts of my time lapse? (Remember, it takes just as much energy to worry or feel guilty as it does to do something constructive, yet each action produces very different results.)

2. What can I do today to honor forward movement while staying present in my current experience?

3. Is there a person or group who can benefit now from the gifts and talents I bring to the world, instead of waiting for some future moment to be all that I am?

4. What can I do to refocus on the present when I find myself doing battle with the dragons of my mind?

5. What will be the masterpiece of my life?

By Melissa Johnson

Beautiful Dreamer

2010-01-31T15:31:00.006-07:00

Dreams are illustrations from the book

your soul is writing about you.

~ Marsha Norman

Once on a trip to Brazil, I was approached by an elderly woman in the town of Ipanema. She grabbed my arm and began wrapping my wrist with a pink ribbon inscribed in Portuguese. I had no clue what the words meant, but I couldn’t ignore her urgency. She looked deep into my eyes and spoke in hurried, exaggerated tones, demanding something of me.

Sensing my confusion, a local bystander explained that the woman wanted me to make a wish. I love a good wish! So I closed my eyes and silently wished with all my might that the vision I held of my best life would come true.

She tied a knot in the pink bracelet, urging me to make a second wish, then a third. Each time she tied another knot in the wrist band, I closed my eyes, trying desperately to think of a different wish so as to maximize my wish potential, but all I could summon was a repeated prayer that my greatest dreams would come true.

After tying three knots, the wish-granting lady rambled some long, deliberate admonition, and in a flash she was gone. Again, my benevolent bystander translated her warning: I was not to take off the ribbon. It must come off on its own. If I removed it myself, my wishes would not come true and I would have bad luck. He also told me that the last time a similar band had been tied around his wrist it took more than two years for the ribbon to wear thin and fall off on its own. Great! Two years, I thought. This neon, hot pink thing clashes with most of my wardrobe.

Then one night about a month later, while lounging around the fire with some friends, my pink wrist-band became the topic of conversation. They wanted to know why I was wearing it and what it meant. I told them the story and, though not one for superstition, I joked about how I dared not remove the bracelet lest I destroy my wish.

One of the guys appeared to be napping throughout this conversation; however, when I finished my story, he jumped from his chair in one swift movement—grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter in one hand and my wristband in the other—and cut the damned thing off! But what happened next astounded me even more: Defiantly, he shoved the ribbon in his mouth, chewed on it for a minute, spit it out, and then dropped it down his pants. Then he flopped back down in his chair to resume his nap, mumbling something about “stupid visions” and “bad luck.”

Keep away from people who try to
belittle your ambitions.

Small people always do that,

but the really great make you feel
that you, too, can become great.

~Mark Twain

It was all very dramatic. And all I could do was watch in horrified amazement as my sincere wish to fulfill my highest vision was chewed on, spit out, and shoved down this guy’s pants. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I vowed then and there that I would never let someone destroy the vision I held for my life—literally or metaphorically—and I promised myself to be more discerning when choosing my friends.

The moral of the story: Your dreams are your own. Safeguard them and never surrender your vision to the reckless disregard of others.

Points to Ponder:

As we move deeper into this new decade, into this new year, and into another month of possibility, ask yourself:

1. Have I been true to my goals and dreams? Do I even know what they are?

2. Is it possible that the comments or opinions of others have jaded the vision I hold for my life, or my belief in what is possible?

3. Have I denied some aspect of myself that longs for expression?

4. What can I do today, no matter how small, that will move me one step closer to the fulfillment of my dreams?

Remember, your greatest desires plant seeds of thought deep within your mind that, when cultivated by the imagination and nurtured with unwavering belief, grow the vision of your soul. Open your eyes. Free your mind. See with unlimited vision. Do one thing every day that supports your desires. Be willing to correct your course as you learn new information and move through obstacles. And watch as your garden grows.

By Melissa Johnson

Passion Rising

2010-01-12T22:35:00.003-07:00

Don’t ask yourself what the world needs~

ask yourself what makes you come alive,

and then go do it.

Because what the world needs

is people who have come alive.

~Harold Thurman Whitman

In the movie Serendipity, the best man is asked to give a toast at his friend’s wedding. As a columnist for the New York Times, he decides to write the toast in the form of an obituary.

“The Greeks didn’t have obituaries.

When a man died they only asked one question:

Did he have passion?”

He goes on from there to remember his friend’s great passion for life and how it inspired his own.

My friend Stephan is like that. A charming French-Moroccan man I met while living in San Francisco, to me, Stephan is synonymous with passion, and I’m not just talking about the sexual kind. I’m talking about the kind of passion a person brings to life—even to the routine everyday things, like shopping and cooking.

A trip to Whole Foods, for example, was a spiritual experience for him. “Look at the tomato, sweetie darling,” he would say, holding it high in the air to get a better look at it. “Look at the color, how red and beautiful. Feel how soft the skin is. Can you even imagine all of the delicious dishes that we can make with this amazing tomato?”

Then two aisles over, “Consider the olive,” he might say with a twinkle in his eye. “It has all of the properties to give us a good life. We cook with it, and its oil helps the flow of blood to our hearts. It’s used in the lotions that moisturize your beautiful skin. Did you know it can even be used for lamplight? Can you even believe it? And when you put the olive together with the tomato, ooh la, la! So many delicious dishes we can make!” Every trip to the market was this way.

And cooking was no different. Stephan loved to cook, singing in the kitchen as he moved about, insisting that I taste and smell the flavors along the way, reminding me of the importance of using all organic ingredients. He used neither recipes nor measuring devices; his senses were the gauge of culinary perfection. And always, as he placed the platters of food on the table, he would smile and say to his guests, “I made it with love.” I think Stephan’s meals were so amazingly delicious, in part, because he was filled with passion, an energy that flowed into his food.

We all have the flame of passion inside us. For some, connecting with it is as easy and natural as breathing. For others, it’s a struggle to find, much less express. And for others still, it seems an inconvenience; why bother? When you consider the role that fear and human conditioning play, it’s easy to understand why some people are disconnected.

As children we hear things like: Simmer down. Don’t be so loud. Girls don’t jump out of trees. Big boys don’t cry. You can’t be an astronaut—we’re not that smart in our family. Use your fork; don’t eat with your hands. And for heavens sake, don’t burp or fart out loud.

Then our religious institutions tell us that all kinds of things are sinful and ungodly—dancing; sex without marriage or procreation; divorce; drinking a glass of wine; showing our hair and skin.

As teenagers and young adults we’re told to grow up, quit goofing around, and get serious. We hear things like, “Who do you think you are?” and “What will the neighbors think?” We’re encouraged to seek security by getting a “good job” and sticking with it, with little, if any, emphasis on whether we even like the work.

In relationships, we’re told that compatibility is more important than chemistry, that it’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor man; that you can’t have everything so you might as well “love the one you’re with.” We see people all around us settling for the “safe” thing or “the bird in the hand,” not what gives their heart the greatest joy.

It’s no wonder that by the time many of us become adults, our flame is just a flicker. How can we expect to open our hearts and connect with our passionate longings when we’re so estranged from ourselves? It’s as if we need permission to be who we are. So how do we break the deadlock?

Success isn't a result of spontaneous combustion.

You must set yourself on fire.

~Arnold H. Glasow

You know how people say that we should live each day as if it was our last? Inspiring advice on one level, but when it comes to passion I’ve got a better idea. What if we decide to live each day as if it were our first? What if we decide that this year, we’ll get back to our roots—lighthearted with a certain innocence of spirit—like children, approaching the world with excitement and curiosity that can only come when we’re unburdened by worry, fear, anxiety and doubt.

What if we shed these debilitating thoughts like old skin, wiping the slate clean and forgiving ourselves those uncomfortable demands that weigh us down with expectations of how things ought to be or would have been if only . . .

What if we rub our eyes free of the jaded perceptions that color our view of what’s possible in the future because of how things happened in the past? And rekindle the flame of passion as we connect with what gives our heart the greatest joy, remembering that our energy and dreams are the purest most natural resources that we have to offer the world.

What if we commit to something different? Can we do that?

Will you set yourself on fire with a spirit of possibility and the promise of each new day?

I think you can. In fact, I know you can. Now step away from your comfort zone . . . and get ready to burn!

As a ceremonial start, try Stephan’s recipe for passion:

Grandma’s Moroccan Meatballs
(Serves 3-4 of your favorite people)

Ingredients
(Remember: All organic, sweetie-darling):

1 lb. ground beef (or turkey)
1 bunch parsley
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 small white onions (1 chopped and 1 cut into long, thin strips)
1 teaspoon fresh chopped ginger
1 teaspoon turmeric
Salt & pepper to taste
6 juicy Roma Tomatoes, sliced into wedges
1 tablespoon tomato paste
½ cup water
Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EVOO)
Lots of passion and love for your dinner guests

To prepare:

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground beef (or turkey), ¾ of the parsley, garlic, 1 chopped onion, ginger, turmeric, salt & pepper, then mix with your hands. Go ahead; don’t be afraid to get dirty! Form mixture into small meatballs and set aside on a plate. In a large sauté pan, add about 2 tablespoons of EVOO (or enough to swirl around and coat the bottom of the pan), Roma tomato wedges, 1 small onion (sliced in long, thin strips), the remaining parsley and a bit of salt & pepper. Sauté the vegetables on medium-low heat for approximately 10 minutes; stirring occasionally. Add tomato paste and water, stir and sauté for another 5 minutes. Then add meatballs to the pan, cooking slowly (still on medium-low) for 7-10 minutes on each side, turning once. And don’t forget to infuse your food with lots of love and passion. Try singing as you move about the kitchen.

To serve:

Arrange Moroccan Meatballs on a large platter with cooked tomatoes, onion and sprigs of parsley. Serve with mint tea and a platter of olives, assorted artisan cheeses and a large French baguette. Make sure you eat with your hands, tearing off chunks of bread and using them to scoop the meatball mixture, olives and cheese! And don’t forget to lick your fingers!

And for the vegetarians among us, the vegetable sauté is delicious even without the meat and makes for a wonderfully seasoned compliment to lentils, pasta, couscous, or as a simple bread-dipping sauce. Get creative!

____________________

Ooh la, la! Many thanks for my dear friend Stephan, for inspiring my passion and allowing me to share his Grandma’s delicious dish. Happy New Year everyone, and bon appetite!

By Melissa Johnson

Anything is Possible . . .

2009-12-30T00:05:00.000-07:00

The best thing you can give yourselves...

is the gift of possibility.

And the best thing you can give each other

is the pledge to go on protecting that gift in each other

as long as you live.

~Paul Newman

I had a professor in law school who would show up, on occasion, to teach class dressed in a polyester Elvis costume—complete with a cape, pompadour wig and jet-black sideburns. He would swivel his hips and strut across the room, lower his chin and say in his best Elvis voice, “Anything is possible.” The class roared with laughter.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. The Elvis Anything-Is-Possible-Gig was his clever way of teaching an important principle of tort law: When bringing or defending a personal injury case, you must open your mind to every possibility in the chain of causation. He would throw out questions like, “What if, just before hitting the plaintiff in the crosswalk, a dog ran in front of the defendant’s car and he swerved to miss the dog, losing control of the car? Who’s responsible… the dog?” We all yelled out our answers.

“What if we can show that just before the incident the defendant had his tires rotated, and the mechanic didn’t tighten the bolts properly and the wheels were loose, which caused him to lose control of his car? Who’s responsible now?” The crowd went wild.

“Take it one step further. What if we could show that the local distributor, The Bolt King, delivered a box of defective bolts to the mechanic? Now who’s the defendant? Can we still sue the dog?” On and on it went, our excitement rising with each new possibility. And just when he was about to lose control of the class, he would swivel his hips once again and say, “Now what if Elvis showed up to teach this class? Could that happen?” We cried out in unison, “Anything is possible!”

Elvis taught us an important lesson about opening our minds to the unlimited possibilities that surround us. As lawyers, our clients and careers depend on it. Justice demands it. In fact, I think our failure to keep an open mind is, perhaps, the greatest obstacle to reaching a fair and just conclusion in any given situation.

But we’re human and, sometimes, in spite of our best efforts, our life experience and conditioning will lead us to draw sketchy, narrow-minded conclusions that are riddled with judgments and expectations about how things should be. And then when our expectations of how things should be clash with our reality, we become the source of our own suffering—frustrated, stressed out and disappointed with what we see.

Just so, we must find a healthy balance between the ambivalence of having no expectations at all and being so consumed with how we believe things should be that we spin out in dodgy assumptions. We must do our part to move things forward while leaving room for the magic and miracles of Life. And we must bring our awareness to the inescapable truth that our deepest held beliefs—for good or ill—will form the cornerstones of our expectations, which, in many ways, will influence not only what we see, but also the choices we make, which, in turn, will create our experiences.

"If it happens, it is possible."

~An unnamed law of the universe

Consider, for instance, our views of life and death and the extraordinary findings of survivors of near death experiences (NDEs), recounted by Depak Chopra in his book “Life After Death.”

“There are many specifics that change from person to person. Not all NDEs ‘go into the light.’ Some patients report traveling to various planets in space or to other worlds according to their religious beliefs. Some experience a judgment scene that can be quite harsh, or even hellish; it can also be full of satisfaction, however. . . The nature of the person plays a large part. A child can come back from heaven and report that it was full of baby animals at play, a cardiac patient can report sitting on God’s lap and being told by the Almighty that he must return to Earth, and [others] can see every detail of Tibetan theology. These images clearly depend on the culture they reflect. . . If different cultures see such different things after death, we must face the possibility that we create our own afterlife.”

Okay, S-T-O-P right here. What was your immediate reaction to what you just read? Did you think, “Oh that’s a bunch of crap!” Or did you relax into a thought you hadn’t considered before? No matter your reaction, assuming the reports of the NDE survivors are true, think about the implications of this important research: What we experience in the afterlife—who and what awaits us, and where—will be a direct reflection of our beliefs, expectations and current level of awareness.

With these findings, we are given a brilliant opportunity to actively shape our experience of the afterlife by working with our thoughts and expectations right here and now. And, too, might this enable us to cut each other some slack for our different religious or theosophical perspectives? It’s certainly something to consider . . .

Consider, too, our general beliefs about the meaning of time. Our entire lives are structured around a one-way notion of time—it marches forward, never back. And everything in our physical world confirms this understanding.

From the moment of our birth, we age according to a system of days, weeks, months and years, marked on the physical body by wrinkles, tired old bones and mysterious ailments that come with the advancement of time. Insurance companies hope that time is on their side as they collect premiums from the young and healthy that will surely be paid out in healthcare for the sick and elderly. Our banking institutions and investment systems all borrow from time, hedging our bets and interest payments against a notion of time that only works with forward movement.

The criminal justice system, too, is completely based on a linear version of time, with the severity of the crime measured by time served, and the most heinous of offenders—in a properly functioning legal system—receiving the longest sentences.

We wake and sleep, we plan vacations into the future, we celebrate the arrival of each New Year and the passage of each birthday, anniversary and special occasion, and we commemorate it all by scratching off days on the calendar and capturing select moments on film. Its evidence—the ultimate proof—that our notion of time is right. Or is it?

But then what about premonitions? What about the scores of people who reported seeing the events of September 11th in dreams or visions, or those who simply had an uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen that day so they changed their previously scheduled flights, BEFORE the planes flew into the Twin Towers? What of the numerous premonitory experiences reported every year to research centers around the world set up for the purpose of receiving and analyzing the visions of those who “see?” If we cling tightly to our treasured belief of time then, when faced with the notion of premonitions— the ability of one to see, intuit or sense the happening of an event before it actually happens —our beliefs are shattered into a million little pieces. Poof!

In his pioneering work, The Power of Premonitions, Larry Dossey, M.D. explains:

“If premonitions are valid, our commonsense beliefs about time—that it flows inexorably in one direction and that we’re locked into knowing only the past and the present—can’t be correct, because this view prohibits premonitions... Perhaps we might revision time by changing our perceptions. Time flowing one way, most physicists say, is a psychological illusion. Can we give up the illusion? Can we ‘change time’ by changing the way we think? The answer appears to be yes."

Can you change your thoughts about time? Do you become one of the skeptics who scramble to debunk, discredit or explain away those who have “seen” ahead of linear time? Or is there room in your belief system for a bit of possibility and course correction? After all, things are not always as they seem.

Expand this principle to every aspect of your belief system. Explore what lies beneath. Dig deep. Make sure that what you’re carrying is truly yours, and not some unexamined relic of the past or a fragment of popular opinion that you dare not question. With courage and truth, be willing to leave behind those thoughts, beliefs and expectations that no longer serve you. And then open the door for the wonders of life because...

Anything is possible!

__________________________

By Melissa Johnson

A Season of Enchantment . . .

2009-12-23T03:48:00.001-07:00

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack, a crack in everything.

That’s how the light gets in. That's how the light gets in.

~Leonard Cohen

The orderly wheeled the boy into the playroom on the 7th floor, just as he always did after dinner but before the nurse came to give him his medicine; this was his favorite time of the day.

“Well, hello there handsome. Come on in. I’ve been waiting for you . . .” She smiled, standing by the art table with her hands on her hips. “What’s new with you?”

He blushed, bright red. At 16, he was showing signs of his manhood—small patches of hair growing on either side of his chin—and his voice seemed to get a little deeper each time she saw him.

“Hello Miss V… Doc says I get to go home tomorrow, just in time for Christmas—“

“Oh Jack, that’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands in delight, and then suddenly frowned. “I’m sure gonna’ miss you when you’re gone . . .”

“Don’t be sad Miss V, you know I can’t stay away for long. . .” he said with a seriousness that broke her heart. Forty-two days, that’s how long he had been there this time—his sixth hospitalization this year—at first for a spinal fusion, and then for pneumonia like so many times before. But it was the cerebral palsy that kept him confined to his chair, unable to use his arms and legs.

She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the drool forming in the corners of his mouth. “Hey, we’ve got some great new art projects tonight,” she said. “We can make a snowman . . . or a reindeer . . . oh, look . . . we could paint one of these ceramic angels or a Santa to hang on your tree . . . What do you feel like doing?”

“Ummm . . .” he contemplated his choices while scanning the room with his eyes. “Can we paint an angel for my mom? ‘Cause she’s an angel to me . . .”

“Of course we can, Jack . . . and then we can wrap it up and tie a ribbon around it, like this—” she said, holding up a cellophane bag with snowflakes on it, and a dark red ribbon for decoration.

“Yeah, let’s do that!” He smiled, eager to get started. Together they collected all of the supplies from the art cabinet that they would need to create his angelic vision—paint, brushes, a cup of water to rinse things off, a hand-towel and a bunch of newspapers to cover the table with. And as she prepared their workspace, she listened to him talking with the other children.

“Hi Lauren, how are you feeling today?” He asked, listening intently to her reply. And then to Kevin, “Did you beat your dad at foosball last night? I knew you would!” He laughed. And as Jenny’s mom prepared to wheel her back to her room for bed, Jack called after her, “That sure was a brave thing you did yesterday—donating your bone marrow like that. You’re a hero! Get some sleep tonight.”

Miss V felt a lump forming in the back of her throat as she fought back tears. She did that a lot lately, swell up with emotion and cry. It had been a tough year for her in so many ways, and she knew that her problems paled in comparison to the limitations of Jack’s life. Still, something about his tenderness and concern for the others hit her hard. She felt a little guilty for bemoaning her fate, and she swore to herself that she wouldn’t cry in front of the children. She just couldn’t. She was supposed to be there to help them—that’s what volunteers do—not melt into a puddle of tears in the middle of the playroom.

“Miss V—are you ready?” Jack interrupted her thoughts, now that he was settled in at the table.

“You betcha!” She smiled, blinking back her tears. “What color shall we paint with first?”

“Purple for the angel’s robe . . . and then maybe some blue,” he said, exercising his artistic freedom.

For the next half-hour they sat together, talking and laughing quietly, as she painted the ceramic angel and he directed her hand. Occasionally she would lift the angel into the air for his inspection, since he couldn’t move his head, and he didn’t hesitate to tell her when she had painted out of the lines or missed a spot.

“Sorry, sorry . . . I do that sometimes . . .” she said, laughing at his sudden bossiness.

“You have a beautiful smile, Miss V. You should smile all the time—“

Now it was her turn to blush. She had always been so good at looking after others, complimenting them, making them feel special, but his simple acknowledgement caught her off guard.

“Thank you, Jack. Nobody ever said a nicer thing—“

“Well I like you, Miss V. You talk to me like normal—when we’re sitting here like this—and I almost forget about my . . . condition. I swear it's the greatest gift ever!”

“You’re a good guy, Jack—wise beyond your years—and I like talking with you, too. . .” she said, clearing her throat as she blinked back tears. “Speaking of gifts—what’s Santa going to bring you for Christmas this year?”

“Miss V,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper so the littlest ones wouldn't hear. “Don’t you think I’m too old for Santa?”

“Well of course not, Jack!” She teased. “Santa’s all about granting wishes . . . Surely there’s something you want special this year?”

Jack got real quiet like he does when he’s thinking hard about something. Then after a time he said, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Nothing?” She asked, shaking her head in disbelief because she had never heard of a kid who didn’t want something for Christmas.

He sat quietly before he spoke. “Well, sure, there are things I want but I know I’ll never get them, so I just try not to think about it—what I don’t have.”

“What kind of things, Jack?”

“Like walking. I would love to get up out of this chair and walk—run—as far and fast as I can. I would love to paint that angel myself. Every time I see my dog I want to throw the ball to him and rub his head—he really likes it when my brother does that. And I want to hug my mom because she always does such nice things for me. I want to shake my dad’s hand like a man . . . and play video games with my little brother. I want to hold a book and turn the pages, one by one, as I read them. I want to go to the bathroom by myself without that guy having to help me—“ he whispered, rolling his eyes toward the orderly sitting in the corner chair. “And . . .”

“And what Jack?”

“I can’t tell you.” He whispered, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Sure you can—“

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” she said, making a cross in the air above her heart.

“I want to kiss a girl—“ he whispered.

“That’s not funny at all, Jack. In fact, it’s one of the most natural desires in the world—“

“And I want to fall in love with her . . . and I want her to love me back.”

Overwhelmed with irony, she didn’t even try to hold back her tears for she understood his greatest loss—she felt it—the loss of freedom and choice. As for love, well, she wanted the same thing and she told him so. Sure, she had had some great boyfriends and some success in her life, but the one thing she wanted most of all—the one thing that money could not buy—was true love. She thought her heart might explode into a thousand little pieces with the longing he expressed. She knew it well. And she put down her paint brush and hugged him tight in his chair.

“We’re not so different, Jack—you and me—the heart wants what it wants. But love is alive and well in both of us and we must never give up.”

“What do you mean, Miss V?”

“Well, you know how you talk with the other children and ask them how they’re doing—how they’re feeling?”

“Yes—“

“. . . and the way that you smile and laugh even though there are things about your life that you might want to be different?”

“Yes—“

“. . . and the way that you feel about your mom and dad and your little brother?”

“Yes—“

“Well, that is love in its purest form. It’s a bright light, Jack, and it shines in you—”

“And it shines in you too, Miss V—like the way you help the children here at the hospital. . .”

“Exactly,” she said, and they smiled at each other. “We must never let our lights go out. We must never stop loving, even if others don't love us back.”

By then, the ceramic angel was finished—nearly dry—and she pulled some ribbon through the hole at the top so that he could hang it on the tree. She held it in the air for one final inspection. They agreed—it was good.

The orderly stood and moved toward the table. “We should probably get going Jack. It’s time for your meds.”

“Wait . . .” Miss V said, pointing to the bright light coming from the window across the room. “Before you go, let’s make a wish on the Christmas star . . . what do you say, Jack?”

His eyes danced with possibility. “Do you think wishes really can come true, Miss V?”

“Yes, Jack, I do. Maybe not exactly as we wish them, or in the timeframe that we would like for them to come true . . . and I think sometimes we may get something that we didn’t wish for but that ends up being better for us in the long run . . . but, yes—I do believe that wishes can come true . . . especially when they come from your heart . . . especially at Christmastime. After all, it's the season of magic and miracles,” she winked, and she kissed him on the cheek before bending down to unlock the brakes on his wheelchair.

Then together they moved toward the light.

By Melissa Johnson

__________________________

*This story was inspired by my little friends at Children's Hospital in Denver, Colorado. To find out how you can make cash or in-kind donations of toys or art supplies, please visit their web site at http://www.thechildrenshospital.org/. Happy Holidays!

A Camel in the Desert

2009-12-15T22:47:00.004-07:00

'Tis is the season of enchantment.

Of magic; of miracles; of mystery.

Inhale deeply. . .

I remembered something—something I knew but temporarily forgot—and it came to me in a flash of “Aha!”

There I was, driving East on Highway 36, following a train of worrisome thoughts that bordered on obsessive, when a truck sped past me with a large camel tethered to its flat-bed. Of course the camel was stuffed, and dressed for what I imagined would be a fabulous holiday pageant, but there it was sort of looking at me from the corner of his eye as if to say, “I see you.”

Instantly, the mind-chatter stopped, crushed in a wave of knowing that it was all going to be okay. And then I laughed out loud—at myself, at the human condition, at the futility of worrying about things over which we have no control.

Consider the camel. This guy lives in the hot, sandy desert—the harshest of all climates. He can walk for miles and miles in the most extreme conditions; never complaining, but always serving others.

Every aspect of his anatomy has been designed to accommodate his unique purpose. In fact, nothing but the camel can move through the desert with such grace and ease—not horses or donkeys or zebras, not cars or bicycles—nothing, for they all get stuck in the sand. But the camel was built for the desert, with legs that glide and toes that spread outward to prevent him from sinking in the blazing hot terrain.

The composition of his eyes are such that when sandstorms arise, he can close his thick, translucent eyelids and still see his way through the blinding terrain. And his nostrils are these highly muscular slits that close at will to reduce irritation as he moves through the desert.

Speaking of movement—with legs strong enough to support 1,000 pounds of cargo, a fat-storing hump and a body built for water conservation, allowing him to go for days on-end without food or water, not to mention his uncanny ability to find the next water source in the middle of . . . nowhere—this animal has carried the wealth of nations on his back, helping to build trade routes and cities, creating abundance for his human companions in the dry, barren desert.

He is at all times what he is meant to be—a generous and beautiful gift from our Creator. And he doesn’t worry or strive or compete for resources because every detail of his life was considered and designed into being.

And so it is with humans. We, too, carry with us all that we need for our journey through life. But unlike the camel, we get trapped in our minds thinking we’re separate, trying to control it all and make it happen NOW; at times, feeling victimized by our circumstances.

That’s where understanding our true nature helps, for it reminds us that every living thing contains within it a bit of the Source from which it came. Call that Source what you like—God, Allah, Great Spirit, Creative Energy, the Big “C”—it matters not, because there is only One Source from which all of life flows, and it’s nothing if not creative.

Take a look around—we are in a constant state of creation and movement. Every day, our bodies kill off old cells and make new ones. We breathe. Our hearts beat. We make babies, creating new life from our own. We sleep and wake. We eat and drink and our bodies process it all—distributing nutrients where needed and eliminating the rest as waste—all through an intricate system of organs, tissues and cells that we have absolutely nothing to do with; not consciously, anyway. Yet it is evidence of the creative blue print from which we came.

We were made to create, to invent things, to solve problems, to structure meaningful lives and make choices about how we want to experience our environment. And while we may not be born with every material advantage. . .or a perfect body. . .or an automatic solution to every problem—and for anyone who has ever pursued a goal or dream or wanted something really, really badly, we know that it isn’t as simple as wishing it so—we come equipped to function in the world and handle whatever comes our way.

We awaken our greatest potential by remembering our creative nature, reconnecting with the all-creative-I-thought-of-everything-loving-life force—or Source—from which we came. We are made in this image, they say.

Life is a gift, not a right. But what we choose to make of it and how we use it—even in the face of tragedy, adversity and disappointment—well, that is our right and I believe the ultimate act of creation here on Earth.

And so this was my holiday epiphany—a gift from a stuffed camel on the back of a truck—sent to remind me of this simple truth just when I needed it most. Now it is my gift to you. As we move through the holiday season and begin a brand new year, may you discover the wonders of creation within you and your amazing power of choice.
___________________

By Melissa Johnson

With a Winged Heart . . .

2009-11-26T12:00:00.005-07:00

To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night . . .

to know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

and to breathe willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks
for another day of loving;

to rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

to return home at even tide with gratitude;

and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart

and a song of praise on your lips.

~Kahlil Gibran,

From The Profit

In Prayer & Gratitude ~ Bali, Indonesia

I followed my law school sweetheart to Florida after graduation. By that time we had been dating for almost three years—studying together, competing for scholarships and grades, playing and having lots of fun. But the competition didn’t end when we received our diplomas; in fact, it escalated. What started as healthy competition, energizing our minds and supercharging our work, became a source of tension, conflict and hurt feelings when translated into jobs and compensation. And the gap between us just kept getting wider.

Within six months of moving to Florida, our relationship ended. Unfortunate, really, because he was the only friend I had in the area, new colleagues notwithstanding.

In the days, weeks and months that passed I grew more and more anxious about my decision. Granted, I was working like a dog and flourishing in my career. At night I fell into bed, exhausted but generally satisfied with the direction of my life.

But weekends were another story. No meetings to attend. No busy phones ringing off the hook. No place that I had to be and not many friends to play with outside of work. That’s when I missed him most. That’s when I questioned my decision. And that’s when I would get lost in thoughts about why it had all happened this way. Why was I in this small coastal town, a thousand miles away from my family? Why had I been so inclined to follow him to Florida and, yet, here we were living apart and not even speaking? Was there something more for me here?

Years passed and, still, I got up every morning with a spring in my step excited for what the day would bring. When I could, I took the scenic route to work, driving along the Gulf Coast of Mexico, enlivened by its emerald green waters and sugar-white sand beaches. I threw myself into my work, loving every new project and idea, absorbing it all like a sponge. I opened myself to experience whatever came my way.

In my fifth year as a lawyer, I began to see a greater purpose for my being in Florida. Simultaneously, I was told of an upcoming offer of partnership with my law firm—“We’re all waiting for you,” the partners said—and I was offered a full time position as general counsel with one of my clients. On the one hand, I had the opportunity to be the first female partner in a firm of men. On the other, as general counsel for this young entrepreneur, I would be able to set my own hours, work from home, and enjoy a good measure of travel and freedom that I wouldn’t have in a law firm setting. As tough a decision as it was, I followed my heart and accepted the position as general counsel—a risk that came with opportunity that would later prove to be a bridge between two worlds.

Ceremony for Healing & Protection ~ Bali Indonesia

“Bless the bridge,” they say, and indeed I do.

When I reflect on the path that led me to where I am today, it’s easy to see the threads connecting one thing to another. I can look back with gratitude at the relationship I lost yet see everything I gained in the process.

I got to work with an amazing group of lawyers who really mentored me, teaching me how to be a good lawyer and business woman.

I got to live on the magical Gulf Coast of Mexico; I always said that I wanted to live at the beach.

I met new friends, some of whom I count amoung my best friends today, and together we had some crazy-fun adventures.

I began my true spiritual studies after experiencing the darkest night of my lonely soul, which changed my perspective and set the course for everything I’m now doing in my life.

I explored geographically, connecting with my passion for travel and different cultures, which led me to San Francisco, where I met some wonderful people who challenged me with new perspectives, inspiring me to get-out-of-the-box.

And I gained the wisdom and courage needed to make the greatest career leap of all—into my new life as a writer, photographer and entrepreneur. This is the essence of gratitude, giving thanks for all that is even when Life doesn't happen the way you envisioned it. Trust me, I know it’s easier said than done.

The Gratitude Paradox:

“Giving thanks for all that is, as it is” is both truth and crap.

Because if you can’t see your way to anything positive
about your situation—

when you’re in the throes of tragedy and horrific loss—

this statement is as good as an instruction to a deaf person

that she should listen to the music.

I'm not suggesting that we demonstrate appreciation for the painful or tragic things that hurt us--for having been the victim of a violent crime; for having lost our loved ones; for having been locked up for a crime we didn’t commit; or for having lost our entire life savings in a devastating financial disaster. When we’re in the middle of such things, I dare say gratitude comes easy. But one day, when we’re out of the fog and life moves on, I encourage the kind of gratitude that allows us to bless our journey and the strength and wisdom that we’ve gained from having endured such hardships. After all, we are who we are today because of what we made of yesterday.

In time, perhaps, we learn that we need not wait until the puzzle is finished to acknowledge its purposefulness and give thanks. For at its best, gratitude is a continual state of grace. It is to acknowledge with the whole heart the interconnectedness of all things—even while we’re going through it, even when we don't fully understand why—without crumbling in our feelings of separateness, aloneness or thoughts of having somehow been forgotten by the world. Gratitude is a thought form, a way of being; a choice.

Remember, every lover, friend, and experience is a precious gift, and every lesson learned brings wisdom to the heart of the recipient. Through it, we derive a greater sense of Self that we carry with us for the rest of our lives. Honor this wisdom as a blessing and give thanks so that it may serve you well.

Happy Thanksgiving friends!

_________________________

By Melissa Johnson

Awakening to Peace

2009-10-20T13:41:00.001-06:00

Until the philosophy that holds one race superior

and another inferior,

is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned,

Everywhere is war…

Until the color of a man’s skin is of no more significance

than the color of his eyes—

Me say war…

That until that day the dream of lasting peace,

World citizenship…rule of international morality

Will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued,

but never attained—

Now everywhere is war…

~Bob Marley, War

When the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to President Obama, I was stunned by the uproar that ensued. People came out of the woodwork—Right and Left—criticizing the committee’s decision to give the award to a man “who has done nothing to deserve” the prestigious honor of Nobel laureate. Into the media fire went outrageous justifications and commentary. Some argued the Prize was already “damaged goods” because of its prior award to the likes of Yasser Arafat and Mikhail Gorbachev. Others rallied behind the many unsung heroes passed over for the Prize and suggested that President Obama decline the award. While others pulled the race card, alleging affirmative action as the basis for his recognition.

I think some people just like to complain. To these critics I say, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR WORLD PEACE?

From its inception, the Nobel Prize was intended to honor those who have “done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.” True, there are many organizations and people out there fighting the good fight, striving for peace and social justice around the world--all deserving of recognition. But in this five-person committee’s unanimous opinion, President Obama’s diplomacy and willingness to engage crucial conversations between warring nations is a promise of peace and progress for us all.

For the first time in a long time people around the world are inspired by what America’s new leadership represents. In this, we’ve pinned our hopes, fears and expectations on one man. What an enormous burden to carry—one that demands attention every day. Yet rather than sitting on the sidelines, waiting for someone else to bring peace to our world, I suggest we do our part by looking within, for that is where true peace begins.

Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu once said, “If there is to be peace in the world, there must be peace in the nations… in the cities…between neighbors...in the home...and in the heart.” Even 25 centuries ago he recognized a level of personal responsibility that we all share in bringing about a peaceful world—one that requires individuals to tend the gardens of their hearts and minds. I believe Lao-tzu is right, for how can we expect to bring about universal peace and understanding in a world filled with so many different people, places, religions, philosophies and ideas about what’s right and wrong, when we can’t even get beyond our own personal biases and judgments towards each other, not to mention the harsh judgments we unleash at ourselves.

I've often wondered why it’s so hard to soften our hearts towards those different from us, or with whom we’ve experienced conflict. Universally, I think it boils down to the vulnerability it demands and the ego’s fearful need to be right. Yet as I watch the events of the world unfold – war, economic failings, environmental disasters, and horrific crimes against humanity that should have long been abolished – I can’t help but feel that we’ve got it all wrong.

I read this story once about a lady who called herself “Peace Pilgrim.” In 1952 she became the first woman to walk the entire length of the Appalachian Trail in one season. Shortly after that she began her walk for peace – vowing to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace…” For almost three decades she walked back and forth across the United States, with no money and only the clothes on her back, walking more than 25,000 miles before her death. She was fascinated that her needs were always met. “Aren’t people good…,” she would say.

She spoke to anyone who would listen about the big peace picture: Peace among nations, peace among groups, and the all important inner peace because she, like Lao-tzu, believed that was where world peace began. In the course of her pilgrimage she touched the lives of thousands of people with her message, and many of them inspired her as well.

I love the story she tells of a small, remote village she visited where she found a group of people with a unique way of dealing with conflict. When a person in the village violated the natural laws or had intense conflict with another, the villagers would gather in the town center, forming a circle around the offender, and one by one they would recount every good deed, kindness and contribution to the community made by that person. There was no punishment, finger pointing or harsh judgment, only kindness. And as a result, their community thrived without the need for jails or local police. Generally, they had very little conflict among them.

Doesn’t that sound nice—a peaceful world that works for everyone? We’ve got a long way to go, for sure; but what a beautiful state to aspire to. And it starts with you and me. Sure, there are those that can’t see the big picture, stuck in their evil, power, greed and oppression. We must not let their bad behavior serve as justification for our own. We must not look away because change feels difficult or hopeless. Those who can see the world with broader vision must.

We owe it to ourselves to look up and out into the world and ask the important questions: How may I serve? Am I keeping my side of the street clean? What can I do to help rather than hinder progress and peace? For I believe that when we pull ourselves out of the quicksand of mindless living, petty judgment and self-righteousness—instead, focusing on what is good and just and doing all we can to promote compassion and peace—we, too, will inspire a better and brighter future not just for ourselves and our families but for all of humanity . . . the only “race” that matters.

And you, Mr. President--I urge you to honor your commitment to world peace and human understanding even in the bloodiest of regions; even in the face of adversity and criticism. For the road to peace will not be found through war.

________________________________________

By Melissa Johnson

Live and Love With The Heart of A Lion

2009-09-24T18:47:00.001-06:00

Defining myself,

as opposed to being defined by others,

is one of the most difficult challenges I face.

~Carol Moseley-Braun

I once bought some cheese at the market – a real stinky camembert that smelled dramatically similar to my running shoes – wrapped in white parchment paper with Coeur de Lion scrawled on its face in a delicate French hand. The smellier the cheese the better the quality, gourmets would say, but I was enticed by the label; drawn to the essence of the heart of the lion.

After leaving the market, I carried that label in my purse for a while as a gentle reminder of my own strength, contemplating from time-to-time what it means to live with the heart of a lion. Sure, the lion gives us images of power, courage, loyalty and strength; the energy of the Sun (think of the astrological sign of Leo, ruled by the Sun). Yet to watch these animals in action has given me greater insight into the truth of their leonine energy; great lessons in what it means to live with integrity.

Consider the mountain lion, for instance. Not long after moving to Colorado, I saw one of these magnificent creatures from my living room window, crouched low with his front paws on a rock, watching a rabbit from a distance; waiting patiently for the right opportunity to strike. The rabbit was making a feast of the wildflowers, minding her own business; but I saw the defining moment, when she knew that she was being watched. She stopped in place, still as a rock, and for a minute I lost her in the tall grass.

Then suddenly, as if on queue, the rabbit took off—hopping and running as fast as any rabbit I’ve ever seen—with the mountain lion not far behind. The rabbit sort of zig-zagged through the yard, heading toward the creek, as the mountain lion leapt over rock outcroppings, doing his best to keep the rabbit in focus. But when she dropped out of sight, hidden by the forest vegetation, the mountain lion pulled back, standing quiet and still by the embankment, looking and listening for signs of his dinner. Within moments the mountain lion turned, defeated, retreating to his rocky ledge somewhere out there. I kind of felt sorry for the guy, but he was big and strong, and I knew that he would find other food. As for the rabbit, well, I was glad she would live another day.

Though it happened in a flash, the scene stuck with me. I thought about the quiet strength of the mountain lion—the way he carries no doubt, no anxiety, no fear or remorse. There is simply what the mountain lion wants and desires and the focused strength to carry it out. He doesn’t linger in doubt and disharmony; he doesn’t stick around and wait for more of whatever isn’t working for him. Either he overpowers the rabbit or he leaves. It’s that simple. And in the flash of an eye he’s gone.

The African lion lives with a similar approach. I’ve been fascinated by these cats for years and, recently, I had the opportunity to observe some of them at the Wild Animal Sanctuary, just outside of Denver. Their size alone gives them the appearance of royalty, intimidating in their 10 to 13 foot length (tail included), the males posing with their thick, impressive manes; some of them weighing more than 500 pounds. And as I watched them I understood that they never fail to do what is in their nature to do.

When hunting in the wild, for instance, they bend to the inherent skills of the pride. Recognizing that females are the best hunters, they honor this feminine energy. In fact, females do most of the work, leading the hunt by lying in wait for their unsuspecting prey, led to them by the male’s powerful roar. As a community, they ban together to overtake their prey. They do not negotiate with terrorists.

As the second largest member of the cat family, these carnivores can go long distances, sometimes walking 20km a day, rising up to meet their challenges as predator cats; always in harmony with the truth of being a lion. They don’t question themselves or blame each other. They don’t go back to their den and beat each other up for not catching the zebra, gazelle or other tasty treat; doubting their prowess. And they don’t sit around feeling sorry for themselves because they’re hungry, expecting someone outside of their pride to deliver their food (unless in captivity, of course). They simply move on to the next potentially lucrative food source.

Yet their natural state is love and, unless cornered, they tend to move away from conflict and danger. Playfully, they lounge around in the sun, R-O-A-R-I-N-G their greetings to each other, exuding intense passion, loyalty and, yes, sexuality through their very distinct male and female energies. To me, these lions are symbolic of humanity and great civilizations throughout time—the kings and queens and those who followed them.

Think about it: There’s not another being on this planet that could cause the lion to question himself. When he comes up against an obstacle, instinctively and without question, he knows what has to be done and he does it. She doesn’t sit on the fence of life, debating her next move ad nauseam; doubting her instinct or her right to “be.” He doesn’t allow himself to be threatened or victimized either. They are what they are meant to be, without question and with complete validity as lions. We could learn a few things from our cat friends.

As for me, I want to live and love with the heart of a lion—passionate; confident; loyal; protective of those I love and of those who can’t defend themselves; always giving to my community; independent, yet part of the pride; validating myself rather than waiting for others to give me permission to be who I am; exuberant like the Sun.

And you—how are you defined?

_________________________________________

Photographs of African lions shot on location at the Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keensburg, Colorado, a 501(c)(3) non-profit exotic animal rescue and conservation center. To learn more, visit their website at http://www.wildanimalsanctuary.org/.

The Face of Love

2009-08-15T18:44:00.001-06:00

No one will put me in a cage, if so,
I never will sing again...

Love without Freedom, isn’t love...

~Jose Araujo, Brazilian Writer

He grew quiet when I told him I was leaving the city. “Peaks and valleys inspire me,” I explained, contemplating life at 9,000 feet.

“I need to B-R-E-A-T-H-E . . .”

It would be a big change, for sure—mountain living—solitary; snowy; cold; with hardships I had yet to consider. I would leave behind a city that engaged me; people I loved. But in my soul lay waiting the masterpiece of my life, wanting expression. It was time for me to fly.

He helped me pack my things and move cross-country. And though he wanted me to stay, he never questioned my decision to leave; he didn’t push his own agenda. Instead, he looked for ways to help, filling the time with laughter and light while celebrating my choice; delighting in my new adventure all the way to the top.

And, here, on this mountain, with nature as my muse, I found my breathing space . . . where dreams fuel my creativity . . . and ideas manifest in a stream of consciousness . . . stretching my creative muscles beyond the imaginable. For it has been said that “it is only alone, truly alone that one bursts apart, springs forth.”

Here, I’ve learned grace under pressure as I tend the garden of my mind. I’ve learned that passion—great passion—gives us the strength to endure as we move forward on our path. And that just one moment can change everything—for good or ill. So I nourish myself with great people, places, things and ideas; I safeguard the energy of my life. And when my heart whispers its greatest desires, I’ve learned to listen . . . and watch . . . as the universe conspires to guide me. Even when I can’t see the road ahead, I dig deep to find the courage to face the truth; knowing that when I believe in myself, anything is possible.

He calls me every now and then, laughing through the phone. If I don’t answer, he worries that I’ve been eaten by a bear. “Sweetie-darling,” he teases in his charming, genteel way, “You are a woman and a half, living on that mountain with the lions and the bears.” Those moments of connection inspire me, when our spirits come together and move apart, in and out, again and again in continuous movement, like breath itself.

And though our lives are very different now—he, me, we—I’ve learned that when held loosely, love never dies; it simply changes form. “Every beginning, after all, is nothing but a sequel, and the book of events is always open in the middle” (~W. Szymborska)

I’ve only just begun to understand what I’m made of, but this much I know is true: Freedom is the face of love.

By Melissa Johnson

Seeds of Doubt

2009-08-07T11:21:00.001-06:00

“Men are not prisoners of fate,

but only prisoners of their own mind.”

~Franklin D. Roosevelt

Rumor has it I have the best sugar water in the Canyon. A little birdie told me so. That must be why Bad, Bad Red-Rufous Brown hoards that sweet stuff by chasing off—or dive bombing—other hummers as they refuel at the feeders. He’s a real bully.

I’ve already talked to him twice about his boorish behavior. The first time, I stood on the front porch, next to his favorite tree, and said, “Listen here, friend: I provide you with that delicious sugar water, and there’s plenty to go around. You don’t have to fight so hard for what you want. Have a little faith, dude. But if you keep this up, I promise you’re going to end up all alone without a friend in the world . . . What then?”

Still, he continued to alienate himself—meaner than a junkyard dog—as he greedily guarded the feeders. Meanwhile, the other hummers organized themselves into factions and came back fighting, retaliating with games of intrigue and clever diversionary tactics, like chasing Mr. Rufous this way and that, steering him away from the feeders in small groups, while the other hummers drank in hurried shifts; trading off, two-by-two, until everyone had their fill.

But the next day he was back, more determined than ever, and he single-handedly chased the others away. That’s when I saw him, sitting all alone on the branch of an Aspen tree, rain pouring down on his little bird head; not a friend in sight. He looked so sad and pathetic; I couldn’t help but feel compassion for his greedy plight. I didn’t have to say a word. I just looked at him with a weary I-told-you-so sort of look that he seemed to understand.

I know, I know. Anthropomorphism is a funny thing—the way we project our human motivations onto our animal and winged friends. But I can’t help myself when I watch them in action. I’m fascinated by the patterns displayed in all of life.

After all, we aren’t so different from Mr. Rufous, are we? Consider the way that we, at times, grasp and hoard and jealously guard what’s “ours;” clinging to our treasures; afraid to share for fear that if we give it away (whatever “it” is—money, possessions, ideas) we might find ourselves without.

I’ve done it from time-to-time—operating from this fearful place—worried that I won’t get my fair share; doubting my ability to connect with my heart’s desires. At times, I’ve found myself holding back or, worse yet, questioning my voice: What could I possibly have to say that others want to hear? It doesn’t happen often but, when it does, I’m amazed at how quickly fear grows in a vulnerable heart.

Take my path as a writer, for instance. Having achieved a measure of success as a lawyer, I find myself floundering in foreign territory when it comes to writing and publishing and all that it entails. I log onto my Twitter account to discover a whole world of people sharing similar messages—many aspiring or published writers—all wanting to be heard and recognized for their uniqueness; some with elaborate websites and platforms and thousands of dedicated followers. I feel sick as I compare myself to them all, wondering if there’s room for me. Or I walk into a bookstore and find myself anxious among the hundreds of thousands of books stacked on tables and spilling from over-stuffed bookshelves, all vying for the readers’ attention, and I am overwhelmed by the realization that I couldn’t possibly read them all, much less compete with them. Or could I? I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

On such occasions, if I’m not careful, I can get myself so twisted up in doubt that I disconnect from that creative spark that led me to write in the first place. That’s when the fear kicks in and, suddenly, I feel the need to mark my territory; to defend my metaphorical sugar water, like Mr. Rufous Brown.

And it was on such an occasion that my friend told me the story of the Seed Planter, an old Moroccan tale passed down from his grandmother many years ago and translated here in my own words.

“Beware of the Seed Planter,” she said. “He will come to you when you’re worried or scared and whisper terrible things in your ear. He’ll tell you that you are not enough; that you’re not good enough; that you’ll never have—or be—enough. Do not listen to him! He will make you doubt everything you know in your heart to be true. Then you will need more, want more; you will never be happy with who you are and the gifts of your Creator. Like seeds planted deep in your soul, this kind of fear grows wild, poisoning your thoughts and stealing your happiness.”

No doubt, the Seed Planter had been whispering in my ear, and I knew he would come again. It’s the way of the human—we get stuck in our heads, dwelling in thoughts of lack and limitation. I don’t like how that feels. I want to thrive!

When I reflect on my life, I see that faith, hope and courage have long been arrows in my quiver, protecting me from doubt even when I couldn’t see the road ahead. Learning to be gentle with myself—an ongoing discipline—has helped me to look upon humanity with compassion, where I connect with the common thread—that all of us, in our deepest parts, just want to be loved and understood. This understanding allows our self-respect and faith in the process of life to deepen and grow; secret weapons in our battle with doubt. Remember, our greatest, most heart-felt desires are there by design, and, like stars in the night sky, are there to guide us. We must never give up.

Take a look around. All of nature is abundant—the earth, flowers, trees, animals, the sun, moon and stars— always creating, ever-expanding, and life-enhancing. We are not forgotten.

What kind of seeds are you planting?

Out of the Chrysalis

2009-06-11T12:18:00.003-06:00

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a butterfly.

(unknown)

I moved to Colorado in 2006, hot on a trail of golden synchronicities. It defied all logic, really—this new path—and it didn’t sit well with my left-brained world. Still, I couldn’t ignore the signs. They were everywhere.

Having felt the first seismic tremors shaking the foundations of my life, I was looking for answers: What did it all mean? Where was I going? Would I be okay? Everything felt upside down. I felt the need for big change; but what? A lifelong passion for writing and helping others burned hot in my soul, but how could I parlay my law degree into a life of creativity outside-of-the-box? I was hearing a call of purpose, faint, at first, then louder; but I was afraid to listen because any change would create a domino effect in my life—geographically, financially, and emotionally. What if I got it all wrong?

Curiously, I found myself searching the Internet for mountain homes. Peaks and valleys have always inspired me. That’s when I saw it—an ad on Craig’s List for a beautiful mountain home in Golden, Colorado. It simply said: YOU WILL FALL IN LOVE . . . and I could see from the photos that I would. I could just see myself writing my first book in one of those sunny rooms. It was in my price range, too. But where the heck is Golden, Colorado? I wondered. Overwhelmed, I put it aside.

The next day, during a random conversation with a practical stranger, this man said to me, “Your opportunity for 2006 is GOLDEN.” What? Then later that afternoon I went online to order my first set of artists’ paints, and when I clicked on the link for “acrylics,” a huge tube of paint filled the screen, bearing the brand name GOLDEN. My whole body straightened with awareness. The next day, as I sat patiently in my window seat, waiting for our plane’s departure to NYC, I saw a very large truck parked exactly beside of my window with the words “GOLDEN TRANSPORTATION” painted on its side. Later, when I checked my e-mail, I found that I was now, mysteriously, a subscriber to an e-newsletter for writers and artists called the “GOLDEN THREAD.” And by week’s end, I arrived home to find a package from my grandmother in the post, containing a piece of her antique china with the words “GOLDEN HEIRLOOM” painted on the bottom. On and on it went for more than a month—golden synchronicities at every turn—meaningful only to me; until, finally, I got it. “Okay, okay—I hear you,” I said. The next day, I called the realtor. And a month later, I flew to Colorado to look at property.

I didn’t buy the house in Golden. It was a lovely home; really, it just felt all wrong for me. But I did find the most amazing place just beyond the town limits of Nederland. I stepped into the mud room and, immediately, I knew why I had been drawn to the area—this land as my creative muse. And I was right. Within a few months I had quit my job, moved to Colorado, and completely reorganized my life—starting all over again—in spite of my fear of the unknown; in spite of the inconvenience of change.

The past three years have been challenging, no doubt—fears naturally arise during intense periods of growth and change—but I have been excited and inspired in ways that I never knew possible, expanding my world again and again: writing, photographing wildlife, painting, volunteering, creating, connecting with myself, nature and the spirit world. Inspiration is a wonderful instrument of change. Through it, the mind expands in every direction, breaking all self-imposed boundaries and limitations, and brings with it the sweet taste of freedom.

My friend Karen calls my house a chrysalis. I can’t think of a better metaphor.

Consider the life of a butterfly. From an egg that’s the size of the head of a pin hatches this furry little caterpillar. When the time is right, without any promises of safety or guarantees of survival, she follows the call of her DNA and moves into the darkness of her self-made chrysalis. Then her real drama begins, as her tissues completely break down and reorganize multiple times, moving between different consistencies of goo, before finally restructuring into a beautiful butterfly. Assuming she survives this phase, which can take as long as several months, she will break through her chrysalis to freedom. Still, she must find a place to dry her wings in the sun because they’re paper thin and wet from being wrapped so tight in the cocoon. But there’s good news: Studies show that the more a butterfly struggles when emerging from the chrysalis, the longer its life span. And when you consider that the average life of an adult butterfly is two weeks, every second counts.

Transformation is serious business! It has been said that the vast majority of what we are is impossible to see or touch, and that our willingness to transform—to move beyond our form into something greater—is the key to living our best life. When things aren’t working and we’ve outgrown our skin, or a greater purpose reveals itself, we hear the mysterious call to step into the unknown—to trade all that we are for what we might become. That can be painful and scary . . . but incredibly rewarding.

Like the caterpillar, I have followed the calling of my heart into worlds unknown. And, more often than not, I have found a trail of sparkling synchronicities pointing me this way and that, supporting my thoughts and actions, like road signs on a long journey.

This June marks the beginning of my fourth year in Colorado. And as I look out from my mountain perch I see that each choice, each move, each soulful longing and new pursuit brought me one step closer to the freedom that I cherish. Now, having grown into new levels of myself, once again, I hear the call . . .

As I emerge from the chrysalis.

BE THE BEAR . . .

2009-05-30T14:18:00.000-06:00

Animals are great teachers, it is true; especially for those willing to open their hearts and minds to the greater lessons on how to live and thrive in our two-legged world.

Look deeper than an animal’s biology and connect with its essence—those very qualities, habits and patterns from which we may draw strength and wisdom. The Native American people call this “animal medicine,” as they have long understood the healing power of the animal kingdom.

Take the bear, for instance. Consider its most well known habit—going deep within the cave to hibernate for the winter until it emerges anew come spring. True, each animal has many lessons to share, but it’s easy to see how our Native Ancestors view the power of introspection to be the bear’s great metaphorical teaching. By introspection they mean one’s willingness and ability to go within and engage the process of self-examination and reflection.

Call me crazy, but I’m driven to explore and understand the deeper, often unconscious, motivations behind my own actions; a real nightmare for those who would rather not deal with the messiness of why they do what they do. But try as I might to shut it all out, part of me naturally connects with the energy of the bear as I ponder: What’s triggering this emotional response? Why did I behave that way when . . .? Is there a connection between the thoughts I entertain and the day-to-day experience of my life? What am I holding on to that’s blocking my ability to move forward?

For me, the power of introspection has brought about healing on many levels—mind, body and spirit—so much so, in fact, that being a “bear in the cave” has become my personal metaphor for solitary reflection . . . when I have an important decision to make, when I need to work through a troubling issue or want solitude from the stressed-out world around me. “In the cave” I am free to connect with my creative side and establish clear boundaries when I feel pressured by the expectations and demands of others. Sometimes this involves focused meditation; other times, it is my way of spending time alone, which allows me to turn down the volume and connect with my intuitive self—that still, small voice within that knows what’s best for my life.

Experience has taught me well: When we don’t acknowledge our “stuff” it will always find a way to express itself, like water escaping through the cracks in a wall intended to hold it back; it could get ugly. And somehow, by ignoring what needs attention, eventually we find ourselves living out the same situations and dramas, over and over again—with a different cast of characters and slightly different story lines, perhaps—which aggravate our feelings of separateness rather than help us connect to the whole.

It’s sad but true—until we become aware of our patterns and learn what’s motivating our choices, we don’t stand a chance of understanding our Self or others and this can bring about great suffering. Sometimes we can’t do this on our own and we need the help of licensed professionals to work through traumas and issues of the past. But for others, going within to access our highest wisdom is a great place to start, and a wonderful habit to adopt from our bear friends.

So maybe we go in the cave once a week, or six times a year, rather than spending the entire winter in solitude; whatever works. But there, in the light of understanding, we can release the energy of hurt feelings, resentments, anger or whatever may be holding us back, and clear the space for new life to enter.

To be like the bear requires patience and trust. We must feel safe to enter the cave and know that we will emerge in the proverbial spring. And while there, we must learn to connect with our intuitive mind and the energy of our Creator, for this is where answers live and the solutions to our most pressing dilemmas can be found.

Bear medicine, indeed. . .

Legal Disclaimer: Remember, true intuitive messages are loving directives that offer insight and guidance for our highest good. Terrifying, debilitating thoughts or those that encourage you to do things that you know are inappropriate either come from manufactured fear or psychosis. If the latter please run, not walk, to your nearest psychotherapist’s office and do not enter the cave alone again.

This article first appeared in Colorado's Highlander Magazine (May 2009). Reprinted with full author copyrights and editorial permission.

Two Sides of the Same Story

2009-05-13T14:30:00.009-06:00

Even the Rose,

beautiful,

healthy,

vibrant

and full of blooms

requires just enough manure

to flourish.

Grounded, by TR Hughes [1]

My friend Tammie wrote this poem, and its dirty truth made me laugh—reminding me, once again, of the duality that exists in all of life.

For instance, consider this botanical curiosity: Water Hemlock (sp Cicuta) is considered to be the most deadly plant in North America. Yet its physical appearance shows delicate beauty.

But woe is she who mistakes the clusters of white tuberous roots for that of parsnips or dill, both edible plants; a fatal error indeed. For when swallowed, water hemlock’s poison is so strong that it results in almost instant, violent and painful convulsions. Even handling the plant can leave high levels of toxins on the skin that—when inadvertently ingested by hand to mouth contact—will cause explosive vomiting, or worse. In fact, so toxic is this plant that, throughout history, it has been used as an intentional poison: Think Socrates’ execution in Greece by the deadly poison hemlock.[2]

And ponder this zoological wonder: Humans do not hold the title on laughter and joy. Chimpanzees, gorillas and orang-utans, our closest furry relatives, make laughing sounds when tickled, and they regularly play with each other, a discovery first reported by Charles Darwin in 1872. So while we humans are keen to distinguish ourselves from our animal friends, research shows that the determining factor for these seemingly cognitive functions is the size of certain regions of the brain—in particular, the amygdala—not the simple classification of animal or human.[3] After all, aren’t we and our monkey friends polar opposites on the same continuum of life?

Duality [doo-al-i-tee] The quality of being twofold; dichotomy.[4]

It’s not just the world of flora and fauna that breeds duality. We, as humans, are riddled with it. From the moment of our birth, the nature of our human experience is twofold—we are at once invisible spirit and a physical body. And while it has been said that we’re all created equal, our lives and experiences are so incredibly different, even in our similarities.

We experience our thoughts, emotions and actions in extremes: Love and hate, strength and weakness, hope and despair, ambition and laziness, happiness and sadness, kindness and cruelty; one moment we’re riding high on a wave of joy and inspiration and the next, feeling low of energy and lacking the will to get-up-and-go. The same is true of our experience of others.

There is a tendency, I think, to view people and situations as being this way or that; black or white; either / or, but not both. Yet the world is filled with dichotomies. How often have we met someone and, having seen certain positive qualities within them, we automatically ascribe to their character other positive qualities and exclude other more negative traits, only later to be disappointed when those negative traits emerge? Likewise, how often have we surprised ourselves with extremes of thought, behavior or desires, all coming from within?

The spiritual principle of non-duality suggests that these extremes are simply different expressions of the same energy. Picture it this way: A long string is stretched tight before you. On one end is your spiritual essence; on the other, your physical body. Though separated by string, they are opposing expressions of the same continuous thread of life, connected and inseparable as a whole. Ultimately, we wouldn't have an inner world without the opposing dynamic of an outer world. We can't have a front without a back; or a left without a right (unless, of course, we're dealing in one dimensional realities, like a cartoonist).

I think the challenge is in learning how to soften our hard lines--balance our extremes--and bring together opposing thoughts, emotions, and actions into perfect synergy to create a beautiful new life energy, rich in depth and meaning.

In this way, for instance, we view the water hemlock as a toxic beauty, equally fascinating in its ability to enliven our senses and destroy our life; we relax our minds enough to see that it's not a case of either / or; it is both.

And, like the rose, we learn to view the manure in our life as a smelly, messy, yet beneficial catalyst for our growth.

____________________________________

Notes and Resources:

[1] Riddles, Rhymes & Stop Signs, by TR Hughes. To purchase a copy of Tammie’s debut collection of poetry, please click here: Riddles, Rhymes, and Stop Signs by TR Hughes

[2] Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cicuta)

[3] Fish That Fake Orgasms and Other Zoological Curiosities, by Matt Walker.

[4] American Heritage Dictionary.

Who's that Lady?

2009-04-09T11:22:00.017-06:00

Every now and then beautiful angels appear cleverly disguised as ordinary human beings.

~ Adele Basheer

They say that guardian angels walk among us--always with us--guiding our thoughts, actions, what we see and hear; showing up at just the right time with just the message we need to hear.

One of mine appeared to me as a Gina Rowlands look-alike.

I was driving cross-country, headed west, when, somewhere outside of Memphis, traveling North on I-65, I found myself in a massive traffic situation. I strained to find the I-40 freeway exchange that would take me towards Colorado. There was so much traffic, and not one sign pointed to I-40. In fact, I saw nothing even remotely similar to the directions I carried.

Now I've driven in some crazy places. Generally speaking, traffic doesn't scare me. But this was different. Cars were flying past me, left and right, cutting sharply from lane to lane as they all tried to be in the right place at the right time to make their freeway exit. It felt like this road led everywhere and nowhere all at once. The thought of missing my west-bound exchange and trying to navigate my way from the other direction unnerved me. So I made a split-second decision and took the next exit. I had no idea where I was, but I knew that stopping sooner than later would allow me to look at my road atlas, get my bearings and perhaps avoid a traffic disaster.

As I neared the end of the exit ramp I saw nothing--I'm talking ghost town as far as the eye could see--except for an old, abandoned gas station, its windows covered with boards and unruly weeds and grass growing between the cracks in the asphalt. It was sketchy, for sure, but broad daylight, and I thought it would be okay to stop there for a few minutes and get myself sorted out.

Sitting in my little sports car--motor running, windows up, doors locked--I spread my atlas across the passenger seat, looking between my written directions and the small detail of the map. Just then, a car pulled up--a dark blue tank of a Cadillac--driven by a woman with white-blonde hair, pulled back in a large bow. I noticed that she had a handicap decal hanging from her rear-view mirror as she circled my car, finally stopping on the passenger side with a gesture suggesting I roll down my window.

"Honey, you need to get outta here right now," she said in her thick southern drawl.

Her excitement caught me off guard.

"Where are you headed?" She asked.

"I'm looking for the I-40 exchange, headed west," I yelled through the open window.

"Well, honey, you need to follow me; I'll take you right to it. But you need to go now. You need to leave right now," she repeated calmly through her smile. "I'll drive you to your exit and then I'll pull over and point where you need to go, it'll be an awkward left turn but I'll let you know when we're getting close."

"Okay," I said, feeling slightly nervous but grateful for her help. Who is this woman and what is she doing in the middle of nowhere? I wondered. "Wait, what's your name? I want to thank you for helping me."

"Just call me your guardian angel,” she said with a wink and a smile, tipping her head. “No thanks necessary. Come on now, let's get moving . . ."

She pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly at first, and we meandered some 3 miles down these winding, nowhere roads--a few turns here and there—then, true to her word, as we neared the exit, she pulled off on the right-hand shoulder of the road and stuck her arm out of the window, waving wildly and pointing left, motioning for me to exit. And off I went.

For the next two hours I drove in complete silence--no music, no cell phone chit-chat, no distractions--just me and my awe-filled thoughts of wonder about this guardian angel. And though I had no way of knowing what could have happened—what would have happened—had she not appeared, had I lingered in that parking lot one minute longer or entered the freeway one second later, in my heart, I knew that she had saved me from misfortune.

As we move through life, I think it’s important that we keep our eyes, ears and hearts open—all of our senses, really—to the messages around us, even those that come in unlikely forms. You never know when someone you encounter may be an earth-angel, there to help you, protect you, teach you or bring you into higher levels of yourself.

No matter the form, experience has taught me well. Angels, indeed, walk among us . . . or drive, as the case may be.
__________________________________
This article is dedicated to my beloved Grandfather, Karl Mason. April 9, 1919 -- July 17, 2008. In your new spirit form may you be a guiding light for others, just as you were here on earth. Happy Birthday.

By the Light of the Moon

2009-03-09T21:51:00.010-06:00

It is one of the commonest of mistakes

to consider that

the limit of our power of perception

is also the limit of all there is to perceive.

~C.W. Leadbeater

Perception is a funny thing: Two or more people can view the exact same event and come away with a different understanding of their experience. Take moon-gazing, for instance.

One night, while living in Florida, two of my girlfriends came over for a bit of late-night-summer-screened-patio-dwelling. The moon was particularly bright and full, providing the perfect ambient lighting for our ladies' night outdoors. As we talked and laughed and sipped our wine, one of my friends noticed something peculiar--light radiated from the center of this luminous moon forming a symmetrical fixed cross.

We had been talking about everything from our personal lives to the war in the Middle East and the overall state of the world, but upon seeing this cross-of-light, my friend stopped mid-sentence and said, "It's a sign! I just know it's a sign. I can feel it! What do you think it means?"

Being equally fascinated by astronomy and astrology--and having earlier confirmed the planetary positions in the night sky--I philosophized that this brilliant fixed-cross-moon was an outward expression of the current astrological energy affecting the world at large.

Our other friend stared wistfully at the moon--her expression one of hope and inspiration--and simply said, "I believe it is God's way of telling us that no matter what's going on in the world, he loves us and everything is going to be okay."

There we were--three different women with very different explanations of our experience, but we all agreed on one thing: We were witnessing a most extraordinary moment in time. We sat in silence, each connecting with our perception, feeling somehow changed by this powerful experience.

But later, after one of the girls walked home to make sure that her son was preparing for bed, she phoned my house in a fluster. "Go outside," she said.

"I am outside. We're still on the patio."

"No," she said. "Open the screen door and step outside."

"Okay," I conceded, now standing barefoot in the wet grass. "What is it?"

"Now look at the moon," she said, with laughter bubbling up through her otherwise serious demeanor.

"Okay . . . I'm looking . . . What is it? Wait!" I stared, "The cross is gone! What happened to the cross?"

"Now go back inside and look at the moon again."

I did as she instructed, and immediately I saw the brilliant fixed-cross-of-light radiating from the moon's core. Then I understood.

This wasn't some rare astrological phenomenon, or a blessed sign from God. No, our fixed cross was, in fact, the result of viewing the moon through the tiny weave of the patio screen, an observation made by my friend's 11 year old son when she tried to share with him our mystical, magical moment. "Mom," he had huffed, rolling his eyes at her naivete; "Open the screen door!" Then he stormed off to his room mumbling, "Do I have to explain everything to you?"

We laughed until we cried.

But all laughter aside, this moon-gazing experience helped me to understand more clearly what psychologists have long recognized: that people do not view the world neutrally--we see it through the lens of our experiences, beliefs and expectations.

Just look at the way that my friends and I sat around discussing this fixed-cross-phenomenon, making all kinds of value judgments that clearly were not accurate. But the experience was very real to us. Even when my friend called and urged me to look at the moon again, I was reluctant to abandon my prior experience. Had I not been able to gain a new perspective--by looking at the moon without the filter of the patio screen--perhaps I would have continued to explain this "rare" event through the lens of my limited understanding, mistaking my perception for fact; something that our egos are keen to do.

And this made me think: What if we all walk around clinging to our limited perception as being the only truth there is? Consider the implications on our ability to create a peaceful world that works for everyone.

In the end, we know that things are not always as they seem. Making the most of our perceptions requires flexibility and an open mind; we must temporarily suspend all judgment and become receptive to the wealth of possibility that surrounds us. Remember, what is real and true for one may not be the experience of another. And while we lose nothing when we open ourselves up to consider another viewpoint, what we stand to gain is great indeed.

By Melissa Johnson

CHARITY SPOTLIGHT

2009-02-17T01:17:00.012-07:00

World Wildlife Fund

Did you know that in the last century three of the nine tiger species have become extinct, and that almost a quarter of the earth’s mammals face a high risk of extinction within the next 30 years?

These and other facts are made available to us through the research and outreach efforts of the World Wildlife Fund, a 501(c)(3) charitable organization serving environments and communities worldwide.

Since 1961, WWF has worked diligently to save endangered species—polar bears, pandas, tigers, and others—and to preserve the habitats these animals depend on for survival.

In addition to standard cash donations or estate gifting, what I love about WWF is their extraordinary species adoption program. For as little as $50, you can adopt an endangered animal—choosing from more than 90 species—and receive a soft, plush version of your adopted animal, together with an adoption certificate, photograph and fun-fact card about the species and their habitat. Aside from helping WWF with wildlife and environmental conservation, animal adoptions make wonderful gifts for children and adults alike.

To learn more about WWF and the animal adoption program, please visit their web site at http://www.worldwildlife.org/.

GREEN LIVING

2009-02-17T01:16:00.003-07:00

End Catalog Clutter!

Does your mailbox overflow with catalogs that you've neither ordered nor want to receive? Here's a quick way to eliminate waste and free your life from their endless clutter.

Simply log on to Catalog Choice (http://www.catalogchoice.org/) and set up your free account. In just a few short clicks--choosing from their alphabetical list--you can cancel all (or some) of these catalogs and never receive them again!

Only Love Remains

2009-02-14T01:11:00.004-07:00

For those who love... time is eternity...

Henry Van Dyke

About a year before my grandfather died, I had a fascinating dream.

He and my grandmother appeared to me as Native American elders, down by the creek in my backyard. They looked nothing like themselves—with long, graying braids and thick, wool blankets draped over their shoulders for warmth—but I knew it was them by the way they walked and talked together . . . I could feel the love between them.

We embraced and talked for a while, and as they turned to leave I said, “Grandma, Grandpa—please take me with you.”

“No, honey, it’s not time for you to go,” my grandfather said. “You have a lot of work to do.”

“But I want to go with you,” I said.

He smiled at me with so much love—I could feel it—then gently touching my cheek he said, “No. It’s not your time. You need to lay off the boys and finish writing that book. That’s your job right now.”

Grandma giggled at his warning.

“Tell me then,” I asked: “What’s the secret to the magic of your relationship? How do you still have so much love for each other after all these years?”

My grandfather looked at her, taking her hand in his, and said, “I have always carried great respect for your grandmother. That’s because she has always respected herself. No matter what happened, no matter what anyone ever said or did to her—or against her—she never let it change the way she viewed herself, her core values or her self-respect. Make sure you find a partner who loves and respects you; but remember, it starts with loving yourself.”

I watched as they walked away from me, hand-in-hand, talking and laughing, and I was filled with exquisite knowing—even in my dream state—that their souls would be together forever; their love was eternal.

I woke up crying.

For the rest of the day, I walked around in a haze. My heart understood the greater truth—the evolution of our souls through time—but I was sad and slightly confused. Was my dream a message of pending death? Had I actually had this conversation with them—soul to soul—somewhere in a parallel universe?

“Sure, kid—that’s me,” my grandfather laughed when I told him about the dream. Then, in his light-hearted way, he rattled off some historical facts about the Native American culture. But small talk aside, I knew in my heart that he wouldn’t be with us much longer.

Then, last summer, the messy truth of congestive heart failure ravaged his body and took with it his will to live. His had not been a protracted illness, thank goodness, but he was tired; ready to go. It was his time.

Forever the deep thinker—there in his hospice bed—he struggled to share with me one last bit of wisdom. “My sweet child,” he said, “Remember this: We come into this world with a framework for society . . . or at least we think we do . . . there’s the body and the soul . . . but only the soul lives forever.”

The next day he passed quietly, surrounded by his family. We hugged and cried. We ate casseroles and pies delivered by church ladies. We moved gently through funeral arrangements, wakes and eulogies. And we comforted each other with loving memories of our patriarch; a bitter-sweet mixture of joy and pain.

At times, it was hard to tell if my tears came from losing my grandfather, or if they flowed from a heart bursting with love.

For a short time after the funeral, I stayed with my grandmother in their family home. I watched her move from room-to-room, at times seeming lost; other times, finding moments of joy and laughter in the midst of her grief. Her strength inspired me.

After 60 years of life together, everything had changed. What was left of a life well-lived?

Only love remained.

When it comes to love, there’s always a risk—that we’ll get hurt, that we’ll be rejected, that our beloved will leave us behind. But the only way that any of us will ever fully open our hearts to the beauty of Life is by loving. It’s the energy that made us and, I believe, the only thing of value that we have to give.

This is the Law of Love.

Removing the Rust: Purification Made Simple

2009-02-12T11:11:00.005-07:00

Make Room for Something New

As we stand on the cusp of spring—poised to leave the heaviness of winter behind—I have been thinking a lot about growth, and the process by which we prepare ourselves for new life to enter.

The Native American people have long understood the importance of purification as a way of removing the “rust” that can accumulate within us as we move through life. Negative emotions like anger, resentment, hatred, jealousy, envy and greed are likely culprits. So, too, are the host of conflicts, misconceptions and opinions of others that we find ourselves entangled with or subjected to as part of our human condition.

The Ancestors believed that the process of cleansing could be gentle and healing if approached with reverence, and so developed the sacred Sweat Lodge. By joining together in ceremony, the Sweat Lodge gave participants the space to let go of all that wasn’t working in their lives, removing the impurities that had formed in the mind, body and spirit through sauna-like heat, sweat, song and prayer. They believed that purification was necessary for growth and forward movement, as the so-called “rust” tended to dull one’s inner light and keep her disconnected from her highest purpose in life.

Personal experience has taught me well: When we clear away what doesn’t work or support us, we make room for the good stuff to come in. This applies equally to attitudes, habits, patterns, beliefs, and our associations with certain people or things. We must monitor our lives and continue to purge that which doesn’t serve our highest good.

As with the Holy Eucharist, where members of the church eat bread and drink wine as symbols of “the body and blood of Christ,” purification ceremonies are symbolic expressions of our intention to walk consciously through life, with reverence for our Creator.

In my opinion, how you go about it isn’t nearly as important as your sincere desire and intent to do it. The key is to bring your awareness to the truth of what limits your forward movement, as you vow in earnest to deal with it, release it, and move on.

CEREMONIAL CLEANSING.

Here’s an idea for creating your own Sacred Sweat Lodge at home. There are many ways that you can prepare your space—light candles, burn sage or incense, put on soft, instrumental music to help with relaxation. Or you can skip all of that and go straight to the tea. Try this homemade recipe:

† Start with a mild spiced or herbal green tea (your choice)
† ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (per cup of tea)
† Fresh cloves (to taste)
† 1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
† Fresh lemon juice
† 1 teaspoon honey
† 1 shot of brandy or whiskey (per cup of tea) – optional

Directions: Bring water to a boil in a small saucepan; reduce heat to low / simmer. Add tea, cayenne pepper, cloves, cinnamon, fresh lemon juice and whiskey or brandy (alcohol is optional), and let steep for approximately 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Pour into mug and add 1 teaspoon of honey.

While your tea is brewing, pile on the clothes. Wrap yourself up like you’re going out to ski—minus the parka and skis, of course. I recommend thermal underwear, sweatpants, sweatshirts, extra thick, warm socks and perhaps a wooly cap on your head. Then gather 2-3 warm, snuggly blankets and set them aside until your ceremony begins.

With tea in hand, find a comfortable place to sit with good support for your back. Settle in, wrapping yourself in your pile of blankets, and drink your tea.

Neither chug it nor sip it too slowly, just drink your tea at a steady pace as you consider what you want to release from your life. It can be anything—a resentment, a bad habit, an old thought form that no longer serves you, a self-sabotaging pattern that you can’t seem to break—but the goal is awareness. Likewise, spend some time thinking about what you want to create or bring into your life. You might find it helpful to write down your thoughts, so keep a notebook handy.

When you’ve finished your tea, lay down or recline in a comfortable position—still wrapped in your pile of blankets—and focus your thoughts only on your cleansing. You should be sweating a little (or a lot) by now. That’s good. Visualize your blocks, resentments or negative emotions leaving your body in a trail of sweat. State your intentions as you clear away the old and welcome in the new. Give prayers of thanks.

Immediately after, take a shower and wash those clothes. Now you are ready to begin again.

And remember to check-in with yourself—again and again—as many times as it takes. Regular maintenance works best. In this way, ceremonial purification allows us to stay connected to our Creator, releasing what no longer serves us while making room for new life to enter. For I believe it is through our finely tuned connection with Spirit that we co-create our world.

Now let's get busy—we’ve got some cleansing to do.

How Does Your Garden Grow? A Guided Meditation for Creativity

2009-01-27T16:08:00.032-07:00

Since posting my last article (Distilling Your Essence: A 7-Step Program), I have received a number of e-mails from readers asking for help with meditation. So I share with you this meditation technique that I developed for working with my creativity.

MED-I-TA-TION [med-i-tey-shuh n]. Webster's Unabridged Dictionary defines it as "Close or continued thought; the turning or revolving of a subject in the mind; serious contemplation; reflection; musing."

When it comes to meditation, a lot of emphasis is placed on emptying the mind and finding that place of absolute stillness within. But my experience has been that a mind devoid of thought is daunting and mostly impossible.

Think about it: Even the thought of not having a thought is a thought.

Some people find it easy to connect with silence or to completely empty the mind. Ultimately, I believe it’s more important to allow yourself the time and space to connect consciously with your thoughts rather than avoid the process altogether.

In this approach, I have experienced great success.

THE EXERCISE: HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW? This meditation is a combination of contemplation and creative visualization. Here, you are asked to focus your thoughts for a specific purpose but hold them loosely enough to allow for the spontaneous expression of the subconscious mind, where your seeds of truth are often buried.

Our objectives are these: (1) contemplate a specific dream, desire or goal that you would like to achieve, (2) connect with your intuitive or subconscious self to understand what may be blocking the fulfillment of your desire, and (3) creatively transmute the poisons of negative thoughts into healthy growth.

I encourage you to read through all of the steps below before moving into the meditation. Just get a general idea for where this is going and then make it your own.

STEP 1: GET COMFORTABLE. Find a comfortable place to sit or recline. So much of the meditation instruction encourages practitioners to sit a certain way, hold our hands a certain way, touch our fingers together in a certain way, while doing a host of other things. My early days of meditation were frustrating and anything but enlightening. While for some, rules and a defined structure may be comforting, for me, I find that too many rules turn me off and take away from my experience.

So my only “rule” of meditation is this: Find what works for you and never give up.

As for me, I go into meditation almost always lying down, with my head on a pillow, arms and legs uncrossed, and covered with a warm, snuggly blanket. Gentle meditation while lying in bed just before going to sleep often will spark creative dreams that bring solutions to my most pressing dilemmas.

STEP 2: B-R-E-A-T-H-E. Now that you’re comfortable, focus on your breath. Most people find it challenging to focus on two things at once, but connecting with the breath is a great way to slow the mind chatter. Like Rain Man, I find it comforting to count, so mentally I count on the inhale and the exhale, which keeps me focused and grounded in my breath.

Spend a few minutes breathing.

STEP 3: FIND YOUR HAPPY PLACE. Imagine that you are sitting under your favorite tree. (I envision myself sitting under an ancient Blue Spruce tree in my backyard.) While comfortably seated on the ground, imagine that you grab a couple of the tree’s above-ground roots lying on either side of your hips and fasten them around you like a seat belt. The roots are important because they represent the core—or root—of your experience, and they serve as a conduit for removing the obstacles to your creativity.

Spend a few minutes breathing under your tree.

STEP 4: AWARENESS IS KEY. In this step, we move into contemplation mode. Consider questions such as:

• What is my dream, goal or objective? What is my creative purpose?
• What skills or qualities do I bring to my endeavor?
• What am I lacking? What do I need to do, be or overcome to fulfill my desire?

You can focus on any question for which you want clarification but, again, don’t over “think” it. Try to let your subconscious mind reveal the subtleties of your situation.

Sit with these thoughts for a while. Grab the kernels of truth in a, “Hmmm, this is interesting” sort of way. Don’t judge what comes up. And don’t forget to breathe!

STEP 5: DISTILL YOUR CREATIVE ESSENCE. Now it’s time to turn your lemons into lemonade. To “distill” something means that you are purifying it, taking the negative or contaminated parts and running them through a cleansing process. That’s essentially what we’re doing here in Step 5 as we move into creative visualization.

As you sit under your tree, grab those thoughts of lack or negativity that block your creative path and imagine that you are sending them, one by one, to the root that is fastened around your lap. Visualize the fears or blocks going through the root and into the ground, where they are planted as seeds that then sprout all around you as flowers—the flowers of your dreams. Don’t over think it. The goal is to relax your mind enough to allow for new and helpful information to present itself.

Look around at your new growth and see what’s there. Do you see a solution to your problem? Can you extract even one idea that will help you move forward? Are some of your dreams ready to harvest?

Spend some time in your new garden and make a mental note of anything that may help you move in the direction of your creative dreams. And b-r-e-a-t-h-e.

STEP 6: WINDING DOWN. Now we work in reverse. Start by giving thanks for your fully-functioning intuitive self and your creative nature. When you’re ready, unfasten your root-belt and disengage from your position of contemplation. Spend a few minutes counting your breath before slowly bringing yourself back to the present moment. Wiggle your fingers and toes. Stretch your arms and legs. Slowly move your head around and, when you’re ready, open your eyes . . . relaxed, present and ready to make your action plan.

STEP 7: DREAM CATCHER. Immediately following your meditation, before you get busy or distracted with the details of life (or before falling asleep), take 10 minutes to write down your impressions from your session. Like recording your nighttime dreams, the information you receive in meditation is most clear immediately upon waking.

Disclaimer: Remember, if you hear “voices” telling you to do things that you know are inappropriate, run, not walk, to your nearest psychotherapist’s office and do not attempt meditation again.

Distilling Your Essence: A 7-Step Program

2009-01-14T15:22:00.007-07:00

When asked where God is, people point towards the sky or some far distant region; no wonder then that He does not manifest Himself! Realize that He is in you, with you, behind you, and all around you; and he can be seen and felt everywhere.
~Sathya Sai Baba

My last article touched on our Creative Essence, reminding us that every living thing contains within it a bit of the Creative-I-Thought-of-Everything-Loving-Life-Force—or Source—from which it came. We need only to open our eyes and look around—or go within—to see evidence of our creative existence. It’s in our DNA.

This is good news! Made in this image--though on a lesser scale than our Creator--you can bet that something so intricately woven together as the human life carries with it what it needs to get along in the world. And that means a creative touch.

But how do we move from intellectualizing to connecting; from observing to being? With so much creative potential at our disposal, how do we distill our creative essence and bring forth our riches in the physical world?

Here are some ideas to get you started:

1. OPEN UP! The first step to create anything of value in life is to open yourself to its possibilities. This means not only making your connection a priority—carving out time and space to align with higher wisdom—but also opening your heart and mind with the curiosity of a child and a willingness to explore your true nature. Do you really believe that God is someone or something “up there,” separate from you? Be willing to challenge the accepted wisdom and find the truth that resonates with you. Your deep-rooted beliefs will shape your expectations of what's possible for your life. Count on it.

2. R-E-S-P-E-C-T . . . our girl Aretha sang it best. Start with yourself. Learn to appreciate all that you are, as you are. Get rid of the negative self-talk and loathing. If there’s something you don’t like about yourself—or some characteristic that holds you back from living your best life—and it’s within your power to change, then change it. Otherwise, find a way to let it go.

Can you imagine giving your beloved a gift and every time you turned around she trashed it? I think that's what it must be like for God when we disrespect ourselves and trash our gift of life.

When you have the ability to see yourself clearly, and love yourself enough to set healthy boundaries for your life, playing the role of victim doesn't work. With this awareness, you then become the kind of person who actually participates in the shaping of your life. There's no need to disparage yourself or gossip about others—all of that fades away—as you move from a path of negativity to one of goodness and light. There’s nothing closer to your Source than that!

3. CALL YOUR MOTHER! Mother Earth, that is. Go ahead kids . . . go outside. Get moving. Take a hike. Engage your body in its natural environment. Go to a park or sit by the water's edge. Sit on a rock and b-r-e-a-t-h-e! Pay attention to the beauty around you. Going green is not just about recycling and reducing your carbon footprint. It’s also about seeing the environment as a living organism--just like yourself. With that kind of connection, creativity naturally flows.

4. STOP. LOOK. LISTEN. Slow down, open your eyes and listen. The world is full of little angels and messengers from God who bring wisdom and inspiration. Like my cousin’s six year old daughter, who gently encouraged her mother during a fit of road rage to consider “what that person in the other car might be going through.” Get out of yourself and pay attention to other people. Be curious. Ask questions. You might learn a few things. The inspired mind is a playground for creativity.

5. MED-I-TA-TION [med-i-tey-shuh n]. I come from a long line of deep thinkers. For some it’s a blessing; for others, a curse. For me, it expresses itself as a tendency to spend incredible amounts of time mulling over the mysteries of life, asking “What does it all mean?” Meditation is my key. I’m not talking about a mind devoid of thought (although sometimes that's preferred). Here, I’m speaking of disciplined thought—the ability to engage in focused contemplation, usually on a spiritual or philosophical subject, that leads to a greater understanding of your life and the mysteries around you. Like anything, the ability to quiet your mind and engage in conscious reflection takes practice, but the rewards are great. Go deep.

6. PGS. [Prayers of Gratitude and Service]. If you have a roof over your head—give thanks. If you can get out of the bed in the morning and walk to the bathroom—waive your hands in the air! When you discover that your seeming “unanswered prayer” was, in fact, a blessing—shout out, “Hallelujah!” Make prayers of gratitude everyday—even for the small things—and then, armed with your many blessings, get out there and give back to the world. There's an energy in giving and there’s no better way to engage your Creative Essence than by loving your life and helping humanity through service to others. And when you give, your focus will shift from what you don't have to what you have to give. Remember, there’s always someone out there a little worse off than you.

7. CONNECT WITH J-O-Y! Ellen DeGeneres cracks me up. Every guest on her show is required to dance when they come onstage. She plays all kinds of crazy-disco-hip-hop-booty-shake music; you can’t help but smile just watching them. They’re smiling, too--even the stiffest of stiffs. And how can you not feel happy when you’re smiling? Smiles, like yawns, are contagious.

So whether it’s dancing, painting, playing with your children, traveling, making music, writing, having mind-blowing sex or working in the garden, connect with what brings your heart the greatest joy and make it a priority in your life! If you find it hard to experience happiness and joy--if your senses have been dulled by depression or years of repression--be patient with yourself. It may be a matter of rewiring the pleasure centers in your brain. This takes time, patience and repeated expressions of joy--but it can be done.

Choose to move through the world with a glad and cheerful heart—it will radiate to everyone around you. And that, my friends, is the essence of our Creative Source.

_____________________________________________

If you have unique ideas or special ways that you connect with the Divine, I would love to hear from you. Please e-mail me at Melissa@AThousandHearts.com or send a comment to this post by clicking on the comment button below. Your idea or story may be included in my book.

Get to the Source

2009-01-06T11:59:00.003-07:00

Got milk? My sister does . . . in abundance these days . . . as she enters month two of the breast-feeding frenzy that has become her life.

Since giving birth to my niece in November, she has worked round the clock to keep her supply in check. When she’s not feeding she’s pumping and when she’s not pumping she’s feeding. And on a recent solo outing to the market, she learned the messy truth of her mammary glands—they respond to the cry of any baby, not just her own. Consider the implications.

Watching my sister move from pregnant wife to mother has been a gentle reminder of the truth of my own existence—a reminder that we carry with us all that we need for our journey through life.

I marvel at the process. There’s the act of procreation (S-E-X), which is an amazing gift to humans, intricate and fascinating in its own right, which results in the creation of this tiny little drop of fluid—the joining of sperm and egg—that contains within it everything this new life will be.

Beyond the decision to have sex and care for her unborn child, my sister had nothing to do with “making” her baby. She didn’t have to schedule time to create fingers and toes on day 10, lips on day 42 and hair in month six.

It was all taken care of from the moment of conception—height, metabolism and bone structure, the color of her eyes and hair, the blood coursing through her veins, the gifts and talents at her disposal, even her reason for being just waiting to be discovered in a moment of “Aha!”

Then, after that little bundle of joy came out, my sister’s body sort of went on auto-pilot. The girl who, once, could sleep through anything now wakes at the slightest sound. Not only does mother’s milk deliver to baby the sustenance she needs, produced on queue with a hungry cry, but breastfeeding serves another function—it helps mom lose the weight she gained during pregnancy. Bonus points!

It’s extraordinary, really. We’re all in a constant state of creation and movement. Every day, our bodies kill off old cells and make new ones. We breathe. Our hearts beat. We sleep and wake. We eat and drink and our bodies process it all—distributing nutrients where needed and eliminating the rest as waste—all through an intricate system of organs, tissues and cells that we have absolutely nothing to do with (not consciously, anyway).

Consider, too, our ability to think and reason, focus and build—to create something new from raw materials; our capacity to love and experience a whole range of emotions and desires; our ability to communicate with others and be inspired. And let’s not forget our internal guidance system (IGS), cleverly designed to help us navigate the physical world through intuition, higher consciousness and messages from the world of Spirit.

It’s not just we humans that won the lucky lottery of design. I see this intelligence displayed in every living thing around me. From our furry little dog friends who receive a second coat of hair in the winter to keep them warm . . . to the endangered lynx with the instinct to know when it’s time to climb to higher ground . . . to the peony bulb planted in my garden that grows beautiful new flowers year after year—even when they’ve spent the winter under a blanket of snow . . . and to the rising and setting sun, dancing in the sky with its opposite, the moon, never deviating from their course.

With such careful attention to detail, such brilliance behind all design, do we really think we’re beyond its perfect reach?

Remember: Every living thing contains within it a bit of the Source from which it came. You can move it, put it in different containers, and define it with labels—human, animal, flower, tree, water—but its essence remains the same: Creative Spirit, from which all possibilities flow. We are made in this image, they say. And it's up to us to distill our essence and bring forth the riches waiting to be expressed in the physical world.

True, we may not be able to create a new species of animal on demand . . . and we may not be born with every material advantage . . . or an automatic solution to every problem . . . and for anyone who has ever pursued a goal or dream or wanted something really, really badly, we know that it isn’t as simple as wishing it so.

But, technically, as humans we come equipped to handle whatever comes our way—to function in the world, get creative, invent things, solve problems, structure meaningful lives and make choices about how we want to experience our environment—all through these amazingly complex and beautiful bodies that, in many ways, take care of themselves.

Unlike our wildlife friends, however, we get trapped in our minds thinking we’re separate, trying to control it all and make it happen NOW; at times feeling blocked and victimized by our circumstances.

That’s precisely when we need to remember our creative blue print and reconnect with the Creative-I-Thought-of-Everything-Loving-Life Force—or Source—from which we came. It’s our birthright.

Life is the gift. What we make of it and how we use it—even in the face of tragedy and disappointment—is our choice and, I believe, the ultimate act of creation here on Earth.

Now, then, the question remains: What will be your legacy?

A Horse With No Name

2009-01-01T23:06:00.007-07:00

Now I’ve been up close and personal with some animals . . . dogs, cats, monkeys, raccoons, bears, even some endangered species like the lynx and bobcat that visit my land . . . but never a horse . . . in the middle of the road . . . on a dark and snowy night.

I suppose stranger things have happened . . .

‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas, and I was on my way home from a holiday musical extravaganza sponsored by the Unity Church of Boulder.

With a new moon rising and snow clouds hanging low in the sky, visibility was limited as I wound my way up the familiar stretch of Boulder Canyon toward my home. Sticking close to the canyon wall, slowly, I drove through the snow, all the while contemplating the meaning of “Unity.” What does it really mean—this concept of oneness?

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I came upon a horse running wildly, back-and-forth across the narrow, two-lane road, sliding as she maneuvered uphill in the snow. The unexpected sight of her scared me half to death; she was scared, too.

I stopped in my tracks and turned on my hazard lights, not sure what to do next. But this much I knew: Boulder Canyon is no place for a horse . . . especially at night . . . when it’s snowing.

For a brief moment I watched her and, she, looking over her shoulder, watched me. And then I did the only thing I could think of to do: I rolled down my window and talked to her.

“Don’t be scared . . . I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly. “Please, you have to get out of the road before you get hit or cause an accident.”

She stopped running, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Please, come here . . . you have to get out of the road,” I pleaded.

Slowly, she turned and walked toward me.

“Come here, girl, I’m not going to hurt you . . . I want to help you,” I continued, coaxing her with promises of safety while holding my hand out to her through the open window.

She approached my car, towering high above it, and lowered her head to meet me at eye level. As I touched the side of her face I saw something in her eyes that changed me. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of her spirit and I understood with acute awareness what I had only intellectualized until then—that the same life force that moved through her flowed through me. The same vital energy that animated her form, gave life to mine, albeit in different packages.

It was as if time stood still for me and that horse on the canyon. I whispered, “I see you.”

Just then a car came barreling around the corner and slammed on the brakes at the sight of us. My new friend freaked out and started running around my car. She had no bridle or harness to grab, so there was little I could do but work out a plan with the man in the car to help get the horse out of the road.

We agreed—he would stay with the horse and warn oncoming cars with flashing lights, and I would drive the remaining three miles up the canyon and get the local police to help us.

The rest of the story played out like a scene from The Andy Griffith Show. I ran into the police station and exclaimed with excitement: “There’s a horse in the middle of the canyon.” To which the officer replied, “Yeah, what does the horse look like?” What?

So I described the horse and told them of the man I had left behind waiting for help and discovered that the officers knew the horse—or at least they knew the horse’s owner—and they followed me back to the canyon road to go remedy the situation. The horse was rescued. Problem solved. Crisis averted. It was surreal.

Later, as I pulled into my driveway, I couldn’t shake the intensity of my experience with that horse . . . that moment of connection with her living spirit. What a precious gift to see and truly understand the essence of One, which reminds us that we are all unique expressions of the same Creative Source, interconnected with everyone and everything else. Call that Source whatever you like—God, Allah, Great Spirit, Creator, the “Big C”—it matters not, because there is only One from which all things flow.

Consider it another way. If I pour wine from the bottle into your glass, what do you have? A glass of wine—the same wine that’s still in the bottle, only now a portion of it has been transferred to another container.

The same is true with me, the horse and the vital energy that flows through us, bringing our “containers” to life. True, our containers are quite different and come with unique bells and whistles—in that way, we’re definitely not the same—but we originate from one Source, which makes us all related in a wonderfully abstract way.

Spiritual teachers and mystics across time have urged us to consider that what we do to one we do to all; that we cannot hurt another without also, in some way, hurting ourselves. And while many of us may find it easy to extend that thought pattern and courtesy to a handful of people we're close to—our immediate family and loved ones—how often do we reach out to help strangers or animals or the environment in the spirit of unity and oneness?

And so this was my Gift of the Magi—wisdom and recognition shared between a girl and a horse on a dark canyon road--and now I pass it on to you.

As we begin a new year, may you discover the peace that comes with understanding your connection to the whole.

STOP THE MADNESS!

2008-12-24T11:11:00.004-07:00

7 Steps to Eliminate Manufactured Fear

1. Reality Check. When consumed with fearful thoughts, ask yourself: is this thought constructive or is it of the "worst case scenario" variety? Sometimes playing the "what if" game can be a helpful tool in forward thinking; but, remember: true intuitive messages are constructive, offering direction and guidance, and do not appear in the form of never-ending, run-on dialogue in your head. Terrifying, debilitating thoughts, or those that encourage you to do something harmful, either come from manufactured fear or psychosis (i.e., think Son of Sam). If the latter, please seek medical attention--immediately!

2. Don't be a "Debbie Downer." Saturday Night Live does a crazy skit with a character called “Debbie Downer.” In each skit, Debbie is hanging out with a group of friends or at a social gathering and someone in the group will say something like, “Yeah, I ran 5 miles this morning. It was so hot that I drank 6 bottles of water!” Then Debbie chimes in, “Did you know that bottled water killed 10 million people last year . . .” As the camera zooms in on her depressive face, you hear this sound bite of trepidation and doom. Distance yourself from the rumor mill. People LOVE drama--entire industries are built on it—and they love to repeat as fact things that sound alarming but which may or may not be true. Sure, educate yourself but keep it in perspective! Refuse to participate in the fear-based chatter and drama going on around you.

3. Pull your own strings. Be selective about what you read or watch on T.V. If you are a news junkie, give yourself the gift of intervention. Don't worry--you're not going to fall into the abyss of the uninformed if you skip stories of terror and disaster. And if you can't bear to sever your ties to the news, then find a way to keep it in perspective. Remember, disaster sells. Refuse to manipulate or be manipulated by fear.

4. Be an observer, not a reactor. When you hear disheartening news and you're tempted to engage the fear, pull back and take an aerial view of society. Recognize fear-based patterns in human nature and don't go there; distinguish yourself from the masses. Learn to view world events with discernment.

5. Get to the root. Examine your deepest-held beliefs about what or who God is. Ask yourself some hard questions: Do you really believe that you are being punished by a vengeful God because you are an evil sinner? Why? Are there other possible explanations for why bad things happen to good people?

6. Live in the light. In her best George W. Bush impersonation, my mother once said to me, "You're an inspirator, not a negatator!" Develop your core of peace and happiness--it starts within. Then, as you move through life, you will inspire others simply by being a bright light in the world.

7. Awareness is key. Be the constant gardener of your thoughts and train them on the trellis of awareness. What you allow to take root in your mind will create unruly weeds or beautiful flowers. How does your garden grow?

What is the Power that Beats Your Heart?

2008-12-23T00:33:00.029-07:00

A few weeks ago an announcement aired on every news station and media outlet across the nation: The United States economy "officially" is in a recession. That day, the stock market plunged—down 680 points—as people reacted with fear to the label “recession,” though we all knew that the economy was in jeopardy; it had been for quite some time. What is it about a “label” that makes us fear what we already know?

I laughed as I read the article on CNN Money, not because the state of our economy is laughable—no, indeed it needs help—but because of the predictable, fear-based response that is so common to the human condition.

Then I thought about Y2K—remember that? We all knew that the year 2000 would come. It was inevitable given the forward movement of time. Yet in the months, weeks and days leading up to the turn of this century, people scrambled to stockpile food, medicine and generators, move money around and get everything in order for the crash that would turn everything upside down come January 1, 2000.

Y2K was the hot topic of conversation. Analysts speculated on the expansive reach of the looming disaster—surely it would take over our banks and corporations, cities and states, even our traffic lights and microwaves, automobiles, computers and cell phones. Valuable television, radio and newspaper space was dedicated to the worst case scenario. Caught up in the rumor mill of disaster, people carried this information with them, repeating harsh predictions as fact, spending precious time talking, worrying and stressing about the impending crash over which they had little, if any, control.

We waited with baited breath as the New Year rolled in, surprised that virtually nothing changed. Well, maybe a few burps and hiccups along the way, but no “disaster.” And soon, the whole bit faded into our collective memory as if it never even happened.

And what about the Asian Bird Flu scare in 2005? Remember that one? People were frantic--stockpiling Tamiflu like the world was about to end, buying up gas masks and rolls of duct tape to seal off the windows of their homes, basically preparing for a new world order that would have us all walking around in protective body masks, no longer safe to breathe the air; meanwhile, creating a shortage in Tamiflu that could otherwise help people who actually needed it.

That fall, the sale of hand sanitizers increased tenfold. Government officials speculated on the capacity of our nation to meet the vaccination demands of a pandemic, while news channels reported facts and figures from epidemics past—polio, the plague, and let’s not forget cholera—filling the American people with fear and dread. All the while, rumors swirled that the avian flu was nothing more than a hoax designed to create panic and line the pockets of drug manufactuers. What's wrong with this picture? Are we that easily manipulated by fear?

Well, that was three years ago and I can’t recall the last time I heard anyone speak of it, much less get treated for it. And while, true, some unfortunate souls met their demise in the wings of Asian Bird Flu, life moved on—business as usual—and soon, it was all but forgotten.

Yet here we are again, reacting with fear to the news of the day: A depression may be close at hand—a forecast eagerly supported by fearful images of the 30’s. And, once again, we find people moving money around, stockpiling food, building fall-out shelters, pointing to the “End of Days” and prophecies from the Book of Revelations as the reason for our downfall, while dropping fear-based speculation as fact into nervous conversations with friends, family and co-workers . . . even strangers in line at the market. With this mindset, why would we ever get out of bed?

Have we learned nothing from the past?

I’m all about preparation; as a lawyer I’m trained for it. But consider the difference between preparation and a fear-induced, knee-jerk reaction.

At times our natural, instinctive fear kicks in—an internal warning device—to alert us to real danger or threat of physical harm: fight or flight. Sometimes that fear gets us moving in the right direction and out of harm’s way, like when a run-away truck is racing towards us with no brakes.

Other times, our intuition sends us early warnings--messages from the Universe in the form of persistent thoughts, signs or omens--that can be quite helpful if we're tuned into its wisdom, but fear almost always distorts our ability to discern the message.

With finances, there are real and necessary precautions that we can all take to protect ourselves when the economy is uncertain. Certainly, we can live within our means and structure our holdings to offer maximum protection before disaster strikes—preventive measures, if you will, that generally work best when thought of in advance, like getting your teeth cleaned twice a year.

But we cannot predict every bend in the road--we'll make ourselves crazy trying--so a bit of detachment goes a long way. Then, if disaster strikes, we do what we can to learn from the past, get creative and forge a new path ahead instead of clinging desperately to what was and making our misfortune the "story" we tell about who we are.

Yet when we’re running around reacting to this crazy brand of manufactured fear instead of responding to life, we limit our creative potential--that dynamic spirit within that guides us with supportive solutions--which operates best when fear is absent.

Think about it—everything we think, say or do will be motivated by love or fear. They cannot co-exist. All other emotions are borne from one of these two states. Just try to hold a loving thought and a fearful one at the same time. You can’t do it, can you?

Living with love means that we must eliminate the manufactured fear from our lives and get on with the business of loving--love as a state of awareness, a way of being in the world where we see ourselves as part of a greater plan and purpose, connected to everyone and everything and perfectly equipped to deal with the ever-changing tides of life.

Sure, protect yourself. Be smart. Plan ahead if you must, but do it from a space of love and absolute trust in your ability to handle whatever comes your way. Then let go. Opportunities exist at every turn to try something different and create a new reality, but you'll miss them if you're cowering in the corner with your gas mask, consumed with fears of your worst case scenario.

Either way, it’s a choice.

What is the power that beats your heart?

Undivided

2008-12-01T19:52:00.012-07:00

Integrity is not a conditional word.

It doesn’t blow in the wind or change with the weather.

It is your inner image of yourself,
and if you look there and see a man who won’t cheat,
then you know he never will.

~ John D. MacDonald

Once, on a fabulous travel adventure in Bali, I was introduced to a man I’ll call Franklin. Distinguished by a headful of grey hair and a peacefulness that permeated his being, Franklin had a story to tell and I was eager to hear it.

You see, once upon a time, many moons ago, Franklin had been a seminary student, training for the priesthood. He loved his work and spiritual life and believed that he was on the right path.

Then he met Ana.

At first, he remained faithful to his commitment to the priesthood, but as his friendship with Ana deepened, and the love in his heart grew, he found himself questioning his decision . . . the path that once felt so right suddenly paled in comparison to the color of love. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ana.

He knew it wasn’t fair to continue this way—in limbo. Making a choice, he thought—any choice—had to be better than the paralyzing effect of his indecision. And, not wanting such a monumental decision to be influenced in any way by the presence of a beautiful woman or his raging hormones, he took some time away—from the seminary and Ana—to clear his head and tune into his higher wisdom.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, something began to crystallize for him; the way forward became clear, as his heart spoke the truth: One can serve God and love a woman, they are not mutually exclusive paths. And there were many ways for him to serve his God, he concluded, without turning from romantic love; yet following the priesthood, by its very nature, would deny his right to live in both worlds.

So after months of prayer and contemplation, he resigned his seminary seat and followed his heart back to Ana . . . only to discover that she, too, had moved on. Ana was married.

Disappointed? Yes, he was; but Franklin remained true to himself and his decision. Breaking up Ana’s marriage was not the way forward, he knew; adultery would never be his path. And having made the decision to leave the seminary, that door felt closed to him. So he did the only thing that made sense: He enrolled in law school, studied hard and graduated at the top of his class. Then he took a job in the law firm where Ana worked as an attorney.

He only wanted to be near her, to have the opportunity to work with her and be in her circle of friends. And there he stayed, a platonic confidant, colleague and friend, for more than 25 years until Ana’s marriage came to its natural conclusion.

Then and only then did Franklin profess his love for Ana, and she for him.

As the story unfolded, I knew that Franklin was a man of great integrity. He knew who he was, what he stood for and what he would never compromise. Even when his path to Ana came to a grinding halt, he remained true to the personal standards by which he lived, never seeking for himself that which was not truly available to him, honoring himself and Ana’s marriage in the process.

Now Franklin provides ethics training for judges-elect, where he speaks to men and women about the inextricable nature of personal, social and professional ethics. They cannot be separated, he says, and he begins each session with this advice: “Before you read the law, you must determine where you stand on an issue—morally and ethically—because you will always find a way around, over or under the law to support your position. It boils down to what you believe to be true about that issue on the deepest level; start with that, and your way forward will be made clear.”

So it is with integrity, which says that when we’re connected with our moral and spiritual truth it cannot be shifted by circumstance. We assert that truth, quietly, through our choices, without self-righteousness or hidden agendas. There is no need to convince others of anything because whether they agree with us or not is of little consequence. No explanation, justification or excuse will do: The fact that no one else will ever know of our behavior or choice does not make it right in our hearts, because whatever “it” is acts as a personal barometer for us. When we act with integrity, we stand undivided; our thoughts, words, choices and actions are aligned, and that comes with its own kind of peace.

Think of integrity as the foundation of who we are and what we stand for (or won’t). When we’re true to it—not because some law tells us to or because we might get caught, but because we know that it’s the right thing to do for our life—we live in balance. From this place we are free and clear to create what we most want, in harmony with the very essence of who we are and what we believe in.

What about you? What do you stand for? Where will you draw the line?

Get Real!

2008-10-22T11:11:00.004-06:00

7 Steps to Greater Authenticity

► Connect with Yourself. Pay attention to how you feel in different situations, around certain people. Find what gives your heart the greatest joy. Then align with those people, places and things that reflect your highest truth. Don’t know what that is—your highest truth? Make its discovery a top priority for your life. It’s exhausting to be everything to everyone else; especially when you’re left behind. Be there for yourself!

► Speak-up! Learn to be a good communicator and speak your truth with passion and conviction. You don't have to start a fight or discount what may be real and true for others in order to be true to yourself. Go ahead . . . rock the boat, baby!

► Banish Fear. Come on, what's the worst that can happen—someone might think you're weird or disagree with you? So what! When you’re living your highest truth, you really don’t care. Dare to be different.

► Suspend Judgment; Be the Observer. When we focus on improving ourselves we have little time to criticize others or worry about how they might perceive us. Monitor your thoughts and clean up the messy parts. Lose the negative self-talk. Learn to be your own best friend. Everything else will take care of itself.

► Just Say "No!" When asked to participate in or attend an event, check-in with yourself: Do you really want to go there or do that? Only commit to those activities and associations that are meaningful to you. There are hundreds of ways to get involved and show you care. Be selective. Cultivate the art of saying "No."

► Divorce Yourself of Guilt. Don't let this energy vampire bleed you dry! Either use guilt constructively to make needed changes in your life or lose it all together. When you connect with others authentically—being true to yourself in the process—what do you have to feel guilty about?

► Drop the Mask. Not everyone has to like you or approve of your choices. As my colleague once said, “If everybody likes you, then you probably aren’t doing your job!” Be yourself, even if others disapprove. There’s beauty in authentic self-expression.

Remember, authenticity is next to perfection—little if anything can shake its foundation. Get real!

Behind the Mask: Your Authentic Self

2008-10-13T18:34:00.014-06:00

Never for the sake of peace & quiet deny your own experience or conviction.

~Dag Hammarskjold

In the 4th grade, I went to school dressed as a cardinal—not the second-in-command of the Roman Catholic Church kind, but the North American Finch variety (cardinalis cardinalis); the state bird of Virginia. My mother helped me with the costume, which consisted of an oversized red sweatshirt, brown tights and a felt hood bearing the cardinal’s crowned peak. With nose painted black and fake bird feet strapped to my shoes, I boarded the bus with enthusiasm and pride. I returned that afternoon with trophy in hand—first place prize for “Best Virginia Day Costume.”

Later, in the 5th grade, I became a Dogwood tree. For this, my mother and I gathered flowering braches from the large Dogwood in our front yard, which I proudly strapped to my arms, legs and head, representing our State’s most cherished flower. Again, I took the prize.

By the time I reached the 6th grade, I was slightly conscientious about my look. To accommodate my more sophisticated tastes, I left behind my "childish" wildlife representations and dressed as the Governor’s wife--complete with my grandmother’s fox stole, pillbox hat and stunning silk suit; a mini-Jackie O in the making. I don’t recall if I took home a prize that year, but something tells me that I probably did.

Yet it wasn’t always about the prize for me. You bet I loved a good trophy—still do. But mostly, I was driven by the freedom of expression, connecting with that part of myself that lived in my imagination; always entertaining, always creating, always considering the next great idea. Back then, I didn’t care what the other kids thought. It never even occurred to me that I was one of only a handful of children wearing a crazy costume to school. I was living my creative truth.

But by the time I started high school—somewhere along the way—I had lost contact with my most authentic self. Instead, burdened with thoughts of fitting in, I learned to wear a different kind of costume—one that would help me to blend in with my surroundings, chameleon-like, so that I wouldn’t be thought weird or different.

We’ve all done it at some time: Feigning interest in things that we’re not really interested in just to be accepted by others, part of the crowd; withholding our opinions for fear of sounding foolish or ill-informed; hiding our true feelings because we don’t want to rock the boat or acknowledge the uncomfortable truth; holding back vital parts of who we are that might be met with disapproval by others.

Sure, I have always been an independent sort, more of a lion than a lamb. But my desire to be liked by others led me to connect with the externals of life—putting more emphasis on what others thought or said or did—conforming, rather than connecting with my personal truth. This was especially true in my early relationships where I found myself carried along on someone else’s agenda; wondering why, at times, I felt so frustrated and unfulfilled.

Old habits die hard. What started as an unconscious pattern took years for me to recognize as a destructive force in my relationships. Until I remembered my Cardinal-Dogwood Tree-Governor’s Wife-Crazy-Costume-Wearing-Free-Spirited-Self--learning to care less about what other people thought and trust more in the beauty of my uniqueness--I remained disconnected.

Authenticity demands that we get real, gently reminding us that the masks we wear will determine much about the substance and quality of our lives. When we hide our personal truth—for whatever reason—we disconnect further from what’s real and true within us. Then we may find that, while we attract people and experiences that match our false Self, we’ve done little to honor our authentic truth, keeping us evermore removed from our core desires and greatest potential in life.

Remember, little if anything can move what’s authentic from its foundation. Authenticity is next to perfection.

What masks are you wearing?

Say What? The Law of Communication

2008-10-01T12:43:00.024-06:00

Let it out

Let it free

Let it all unravel

Let it out and it can be

A path on which to travel.

~Leunig, Misquoting Michael

In the first round of presidential debates between Senators McCain and Obama, the issue was raised about whether it was prudent to meet with world leaders without “preconditions,” particularly when those individuals or countries oppose us or threaten destruction of our allies.

Senator McCain insisted that any such meeting be conducted with preconditions, so as not to endorse their ugly propaganda; ridiculing Senator Obama for being naïve in his willingness to sit down with Iranian leaders without such conditions in place.

Senator Obama, on the other hand, offered the idea of tough, direct Presidential diplomacy when it came to exploring contacts with other nations, even “rouge nations” like Iran. He said, “Now, understand what this means "without preconditions." It doesn't mean that you invite them over for tea one day. What it means is that we don't do what we've been doing, which is to say, "Until you agree to do exactly what we say, we won't have direct contacts with you. . . the idea is that we do not expect to solve every problem before we initiate talks." (For an exact transcript of this part of the debate, please go to www.digitaljournal.com/article/260395.)

Now, my point is not to debate the politics of the day; but this issue of communicating with “preconditions” really makes me think: How often in life do we attempt to communicate with our own set of conditions?

In our personal and business relationships, do we shut people out—or refuse to talk to them altogether—when they disagree with our point of view or don’t give us what we want? Or do we approach others in the spirit of information gathering, seeking first to understand before demanding that we be understood?

How often do we refuse to discuss a particular subject with a loved one or friend because our feelings are hurt, or somehow we feel rejected by something they’ve said or done—or haven’t said or done—in effect, manipulating through emotional blackmail that says, “Until you do what I think you should do, or think like I think, or until you acknowledge that I am right, I’m not talking to you. And by the way, I’m not going to tell you why I’m mad in the first place; you should know!” Does any of this sound familiar?

Meaningful relationships aren’t borne of dictatorships. Rather, bonds are formed and strengthened through effective communication with others, which comes, in part, from our ability to understand where the other person is coming from—why they do what they do, or think what they think. It doesn’t mean that we have to agree with them, for agreement and understanding are two entirely different things.

True understanding comes with the free exchange of thoughts, ideas, and information—when we’re open to hearing their truth, not just our own—without limiting that exchange by imposing our conditions on the other person. When we let ourselves explore through open communication, to our delight and surprise, sometimes we just might find that one or the other or both of us have been operating under false assumptions, which have colored our perceptions and tainted our views of each other. With such discoveries come great opportunities for change, enabling us to make constructive adjustments in our relationships and move forward in the direction of peace.

To create and strengthen our relationships, solve problems and overcome challenges, it is imperative that we develop our skills as communicators--making ourselves available to each other by listening and responding with the whole heart. How can we ever hope to connect with each other if we shut down or refuse to talk? Then what chance do we have of getting what we want or bridging the gap between our hearts?

I recall trying to initiate a conversation with a person who was very angry and perhaps felt that he had been wronged, though I wasn’t sure why. My attempt to communicate with him was an effort to understand, and to put this lingering, unnamed conflict to rest. I began with a simple question: “Why are you so angry? I want to understand.”

His response was sudden and swift, shooting daggers at me with his eyes while saying, “I’m not talking to you about this.” Then he turned away, ignoring me as if I wasn’t even there. End of story. There would be no discussion. While he may have acted out of his own fear and internal discord, which I can empathize with to a degree, his behavior destroyed the last bit of trust I had in his ability to act with integrity toward me; the last bit of trust I had in the purity of his intentions.

When trust is lost we cannot feel safe to let down our guard with another and speak openly about our issues; we’re too busy protecting ourselves. Then the ego steps in, posturing and finger-pointing, looking for affirmation that we are right and they are wrong; blaming each other for our own shortcomings. In this place, we have no hope for meaningful communication. And without that, there can be no compassion, which is the cornerstone of all true human understanding.

This is but one example of the way that we impose our "pre-conditions" on others; the way that we demonstrate to them through our actions that we’re holding all of the cards: That we'll talk to them and show love and kindness to them if and only if they don’t irritate us, make us angry or say the wrong thing. We’ll talk to them when and if we’re ready, with little thought or concern for their desire for clarity or willingness to listen and understand. Then, when we do talk to them, we put our energy into defending our position, convincing them that the responsibility for all that’s wrong between us rests squarely on their shoulders. This gets us nowhere, and does little (if anything) to improve our relationships and build trust with others.

We’ve all done it at some time, in some way, to greater or lesser degrees. We may be locked in this pattern now. But, remember, without meaningful dialogue we will never get to the root of the problem; and when we can’t get to the root, we cannot possibly understand what’s motivating those we’re in conflict with, much less solve the underlying problem. Instead, the ego will continue to play out its dramas albeit on different stages, with different characters—ever-more angry and misunderstood—never reaching common ground.

True, there may be times when setting boundaries and conditions to our communication may be in order; for instance, when we need to have a crucial conversation with someone who has been emotionally or physically abusive to us. We might say, “I will talk with you only if you’re not drinking;” or “. . . if you don’t threaten me;” or “. . . after you've entered therapy.”

Being open to communication does not mean that we must put ourselves in harm's way in order to understand the other person. But beyond these basic self-protections, if we—or the other person—continually block or sabotage communication, we must ask ourselves: Do we really want to work it out? Do we really want to move toward better relations? What are we committed to--being right or getting real and creating a peaceful life?

What about you? Do you have preconditions to open communication in your life?

The Wheels Keep on Turning . . .

2008-09-30T11:11:00.004-06:00

8 Things You Can Do During Cycles of Change

♦ Travel light. Clean out those closets--physically and emotionally! Do you really want to carry all of that "stuff" with you on the next part of your journey? Lighten your load!

♦ Get organized. Set new goals or revisit old ones. Finally, put those photos in albums; write thank-you notes to your friends; start planning your next great travel adventure; update your household budget and savings plan. You'll be glad you did when your new cycle begins.

♦ Explore your spiritual side. Make prayers of gratitude not worry. Develop a meditation practice. You don't have to sit in an ashram to connect with your spirit. There are lots of fantastic guided meditation cds out there. Start small--commit to 10 minutes of mind-clearing meditation a day for 30 days. Your life and outlook will improve dramatically.

♦ Surround yourself with positive people. While you may not be able to weed out every Negative Nelly in your life, you can be selective about what you give your energy to and what you share with others about your personal issues and plans. It can't be stressed enough: what we give our attention to expands. Choose positive thoughts and ideas for moving forward with your life.

♦ Get inspired! Books of triumph over struggle abound. Do some research, make a list of books that interest you and get busy reading. The inspired mind is a playground for creativity.

♦ Help humanity. Ask yourself: How may I serve? There's no better way to get out of yourself than to give to someone or something else. Connect with volunteer work that ignites your passions.

♦ Expand your mind! Take a class, join a group or develop a new hobby. A busy, focused mind has little time for obsessive worry.

♦ Get physical. Start a new exercise program and commit to healthier eating. Everything brings energy to your life--for better or worse. Take good care, for how you treat yourself will set the stage for how you allow others to treat you. And it's a known fact: exercise causes your body to release those "feel good" chemicals that do wonders for a weary mind. So get moving!

Full Circle -- The Law of Cycles & Timing

2008-09-29T10:21:00.016-06:00

Not so long ago, I had one toe in the Pacific Ocean and another in the Gulf of Mexico; bicoastal, some would say. Yoga kept me flexible. Meditation kept me grounded. Gratitude kept me sane.

Back then, I never imagined that I would quit my job, sell my home, pick up sticks and reorganize my life in this tiny mountain town at the top of Boulder Canyon, with little more than a pocket full of dreams and faith in the path I followed. In hindsight, I can see clearly the natural progression of things—the seeds of discontentment growing deep within my heart, forcing me to reevaluate my life.

Here’s the thing about seeds—they don’t grow overnight. You can plant them, water them—even talk to them—and you get nothing, or at least that’s how it seems. But there’s business going on underground: Roots are forming, intertwining with others for mutual support and growth, while decisions are being made about how many flowers, or apples, or tomatoes will grow from that seed. Then one day, just when you thought nothing was happening—BAM! Signs of life emerge from the ground, reaching for the sunlight. Suddenly, it all makes perfect sense.

So it was with me.

Today, almost three years later, my life looks very different. As I look out from my mountain perch surrounded by nature’s beauty, I’m reminded, once again, of how temporary it all is—this earthly experience called Life. Seasons change. People come and go. Time marches on, waiting for no one, yet moving us forward in rhythm with the silent longings of our hearts.

Just as the Aspen leaves turn green, then gold, falling to the ground with winter’s early warning, I’m reminded that we, too, must first die to one life before experiencing the new growth of spring.

Consider the Aspen—do you think it spends the winter fearing that it will never again experience the joy of having beautiful leaves adorn its branches? Questioning its Creator? Wishing things were different? Regretting its inherent change?

I doubt it. Rather, I like to think of the Aspens as hibernating, like the bears; conserving energy for the new cycle of life that will emerge in the spring.

Why should it be any different with people? Consider what you do between cycles of change. How do you fill your time? What do you give your energy to?

When your destination is uncertain, do you live in fear that your cycle of change is the beginning of the end of your life? Or do you get busy doing what you can to organize yourself, energize your thoughts, and develop a good plan before moving forward?

Even when change comes from a conscious choice to restructure some aspect of our life—to let go of a dead-end relationship, change careers, start a family, create a new business or embark on a great travel adventure—the temptation is to spend our time in an anxious state, questioning our decisions, worrying that it will all go horribly wrong; expecting signs of new life to emerge immediately on the heels of our decision to change.

Then there’s the frustration that comes when we’ve been in a cycle of change for a long time, because it feels like our transition is all our life will ever be. But if we could step back and observe ourselves from a distance, we would see that we aren’t done yet: We are still moving toward a destination that we can’t quite see because we’re consumed with the day-to-day experience of our change, slowed by the natural timing of things—like watching seeds grow underground.

That’s where understanding our cycles and timing can help. Remember: To everything there is a reason, a season, a cycle and right timing. Work with the energy of change, not against it. Be patient and mindful of your life’s rhythms, using the down-time to improve yourself—turning your weaknesses into strengths—as you prepare for a new cycle to emerge.

Nations can benefit from understanding this as well, helping us to see with broader vision and make changes that we've needed, but neglected, to make. We live in a time that calls for more awareness and personal responsibility than we’ve ever known before—a global economy and environmental network that inextricably links us all together. We can no longer afford to give our power to others and then criticize them from the sidelines when some aspect of society fails.

Yet we keep inching closer to the edge of chaos. As a nation, we must ask ourselves “why?”

Isn’t it possible that when “we the people” grow dissatisfied on some level with the way of our world that our collective dissatisfaction—conscious or not—demands expression in the light of day?

If we can disengage from the fear-based rationales fed to us by the media, our communities, and the world at large, we might just get to the truth: This crisis isn’t happening to us, it’s happening because of us--the collective "us." And we are responsible—all of us—for turning it around.

Like a snake preparing to shed its skin, it may feel like we’re beating our head against a rock, and that can be painful. But I believe that what's happening in our world today is a prelude to the kiss of new life that will emerge from this massive restructuring; but one part of the story unfolding in the evolution of humanity.

So as we move through this cycle of change, remember: Everything in life has its own right timing. Trust the wisdom that created you and the purpose behind all things, while doing what you can to keep your side of the street clean. And prepare yourself . . . for a bright new tomorrow will emerge just as surely as summer follows spring.

Will you be ready?