The greatest act of faith takes place when a man finally decides that he is not God. - Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Coming to believe, making the decision and conscious contact...... My emerging love affair with God...

I grew up in a traditional Christian faith, a denomination whose doctrine was relatively  rigid and really intimidating.  I rarely felt home there, and so many of the beliefs, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around.  Even at a young age, they didn’t make sense to me.  If God was so powerful and created everything, why would he act like an insolent child and with the stamp of His big foot, destroy the world?  Sure, people were acting in an unrighteous manner, but isn’t He supposed to be above the pettiness of retribution and judgment? After all, He’s God!   And what about His forgiveness message? I need to forgive others to be forgiven?   Didn’t that apply to Him too? Turning folks into pillars of salt, or condemning them to eternal flames didn’t sound particularly compassionate.   To me, He acted like a big bully.   I can’t say I didn’t believe in God, because I did.  I just really didn’t like Him much.  I attributed any suffering in my life as His punishment, doled out because I was a bad person.  The Bible alluded to that,  and I probably couldn’t pay enough dues, nor would there be enough of Jesus' blood for me to gain admittance into heaven anyhow.  I later decided, I really wouldn’t enjoy heaven much anyway since the folks that were going to get in, were obviously brown nosers.... and it must be just a big clique based on favorites and exclusivity, not really much different than life on earth.    There was enough dishonesty, judgment, and anger already present in my life, and if that’s what folks were all about that entered the kingdom, it wasn’t for me.  This idea of calling Him my Heavenly Father was absurd too.  He was sure doing a lousy job of taking care of His child (me) in my mind,  and frankly a real poor example.  Did He walk like He talked?  No way.  If that was what God and religion were all about,  well, who needed it! 

 For many years, I drifted after cutting the cord of my childhood faith and dipped my toe into the fountains of one religious affiliation after another. No immersion for me, just a short visit to review the particulars of each one's varied beliefs.   When any scent of punishment or damnation entered the picture,  I would be off and running in my quest to find a God of love.  I seriously traveled many spiritual roads; from TV evangelists, to the study of other religions, until one would disappoint, again, in their imperfection and humanness.  Perhaps man may have been created in God’s image, but I didn’t want my God to think like man!  I just knew I was better off taking care of my own business because there wasn’t any tangible support coming my way - not from Him, not from anyone.  

I thought I was doing a fine job of it, until I got into a little trouble in my late 20’s with alcohol.  As I spun out of control leaving a wake of destruction in the path of those who had the unfortunate sentence of being a part of my life, I began to recognize, this was something even I couldn’t manage to take care of on my own.  All my attempts at self-control, discipline, and will-power were failing miserable.  I was in a real predicament.  Praying to THAT God of my childhood was not an option for me here either.   At the lowest ebb of my darkness of the soul, I cried out to ANYTHING out there, literally,  and asked for reinforcement.  Seems the plea sounded like this... “If there is something out there,  please help me. I can’t do this myself.”  From that point forward, my problem with alcohol was lifted.   It wasn’t until several years later I recognized what had happened.  Twelve step groups are based on a series of suggested instructions for release from the bondage of addictions, self will run riot, and hopeless lives, providing a pathway towards rebirth, and serenity.  The First Step asks me to surrender and recognize my powerlessness over alcohol, life, food, relationships, (pick your poison). No doubt, I was powerless.  The Second Step asks me to come to believe there is a power greater than me (totally against everything I was taught but what were my options) who could restore me to sanity. The Third Step asks me to just make the decision to turn my will and my life over to A power greater than me.  It doesn’t define that greater power.... It doesn’t say, it’s God, Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, the Republican Party or the current man of the day. It doesn’t tell me I have to be good enough before He’ll help.  It doesn’t even say it’s a He. Just a power greater than me.  The simple acknowledgment that there actually could  be SOMETHING greater than myself, was enough to set into motion the best journey of my life; seeking  a God who works for me in ways that create an environment of love, kindness, flexibility, honesty, growth, and evolution.  This God is the God of my understanding.  Not my daughter’s, my neighbors, Moses, the Dali Lama, Buddha, or the Christian Church.  Instead, a God I have come to know as pure love, present in my life always, revealing Himself (or Herself depending on whether dudes are in my good graces that day- it doesn't matter, I can't put a label on God) through others, nature, and acts of generosity, compassion, and love.  What a beautiful beginning... 

Step Eleven came about a few years into my pursuit of the Twelve Steps, and this new found God of my understanding.   Step Eleven asks me to “Seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact.”   This is not a chore for me. This is where the joy comes in.   I know now, all those years of questioning and conflict have simply brought me to a place where I yearn to move closer and closer in my relationship with my God.  There is a lovely Sufi saying which says, "Our longing for God is God’s longing for us."  I believe we are all born into this world with that longing. It may get hidden under layers of fear based teachings designed to keep the masses in check, but  that desire for relationship calls us home, and asks of us that we just recognize that there is a God, and we aren’t it. Then, the fun begins.    

Religious Beliefs are as unique to an individual as fingerprints.  Sadly, we live in a World of intolerance.  We attach labels to people and their faith - He’s a Muslim.  She’s Catholic.  He’s a Buddhist, or a Spiritualist.  We have so many versions of suggested pathways to God.   Christianity in itself has too many denominations to count.  I used to  wonder if they all read from the same Bible, each one interpreting it from the mind and voice of man and a diversity of personal opinion.  I wonder how many people are sacrificed at the altar of Religion because of  close-mindedness, judgment, and attempts at control through fear.   Fear never works as a motivator, not in the long haul.   Fear is the Petri dish of intolerance, hatred, isolation, and a myriad of other ugly byproducts like deception, dishonesty, murder and war.  My God is a God of love, and love alone.  My God would never be a champion of any of that.  My God works for me and in me, to create the kind of human being I want to project to the world.   I'm not perfect, but I do now have a goal.  And that goal is to think like God thinks, one day at a time.   In order for me to do that, I can't afford to entertain those qualities that arise from man - fear based judgments and territorial teachings.  

I have come to know, in an intimate manner, there  is a Power Greater and I'm not it.  Thank God.  Because I'm not it, means I have no right to impose, or judge others Power Greater.  All those years.... walking away from the God of "my religion's" understanding has led me to a better, more honorable place for me.  One of awe, faith and joy.  It's brought me to a place where I can take what I need from the roots of my childhood religion and discard the rest.  I enjoy gathering with like minded others in the worship of our Creator in many places.   I just tune out the judgment parts and keep my eyes on the examples of His LOVE in the cross of Jesus,  and the faces of those who have found a God of their understanding.   CS Lewis says it best:  "A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, “darkness” on the walls of his cell." I believe that and I believe God reveals Himself in many beautifully different and divine ways. 

I choose a God of Love as the God of my understanding.  May you recognize you can choose what works for you too.  If you're struggling to find one, you can borrow mine until you  find your own.  My God loves you deeply too! 

If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul. - Rabbi Harold Kushner (from the essay “God’s fingerprints on the Soul”. Source: Handbook for the Soul)

Finding gratitude in unlikely places this Thanksgiving....

My last blog post touched on the idea of gratitude and blessings.  Rabbi Kushner’s thoughts seem to be turning up in many of my readings recently.  In the last decade I’ve learned to note those serendipity's and gentle nudges.   I’m not nearly as evolved as the Rabbi in my ability to find something meaningful in life’s disappointments, and tragedies, but I do believe, just being willing, is meeting God half way in our quest for understanding.  It’s much easier to do this when the sea has calmed and you’re miles up the beach looking back. But it is possible to engage some gratitude in the midst of the storm.  This year, in honor of Thanksgiving, I want to give it my best shot, examining those less obvious blessings. 

In the past I’ve ticked off my gratitude like a shopping list essentially parroting the same things year after year.  Not to minimize them because they aren’t givens.  They’re gifts.  I am immensely grateful for my family, a roof over my head, plenty of food on my table, good friends, experiencing a great love, and living in a free country (as challenged as it appears at times).  In hindsight, I have had a year of ambiguous blessings which packed a big, spiritual punch.  Many joys peppered with a  few profound sorrows has enabled me to practice Rabbi Kushner's search for good in every situation.   That’s been the biggest blessing of all;  an emerging awareness asking me to look for the gems.  To do that, I have to pay very close attention to the moment and the people in it:  listening intently, observing, and tuning into others.  I also had to consciously look at my life as a giant university teaching me about my real essence which is not my physical body and ego.  I do get caught up in the lure and shallowness of that from time to time.  Challenges arise, giving me exactly what I need, to expand me, exactly when I need it and my soul is growing as I navigate life.  Sometimes I need to  repeat a class or two over (and over) again!  Yet, something really shifted this year.  

I am attributing this shift to that state of willingness, and tuning in as an observer rather than a judge.  When my appreciation is drilled down that simply, no matter what other chaos is happening around me, I can generally find some gems.   Things aren’t always what they seem, and the times which are ugly, buried beneath all the pain or suffering, is a timeless heirloom we get to carry with us for the rest of our lives when we really look for it.  

Here is a small sampling of my gratitude list for Thanksgiving 2011.  I am grateful for:

Knowing Unconditional love. We all want that.  Some of us struggle thinking we aren’t worthy of it and often aren’t capable of recognizing what it is and means. Unconditional love does not mean tolerating abuse or unacceptable behavior.  One of my most profound moments came from an unexpected source.  My beloved brother. In a late night discussion, I revealed some thoughts about why I seem to settle for so much less than I deserve.  His response to me was, “Rather than trying so hard with someone who doesn’t appreciate the beauty of you, or wants to change you, why don’t you look at the unconditional love you already have in your life?  I love you.  My family loves you. Your family loves you.  The best part, we all love you exactly as you are and will always love you no matter what you do.”  This kind of love gives me permission to try, make mistakes, make changes, succeed, regress, become.  If you love something, set it free.  If it comes back to you, it’s yours.  If it doesn’t it never was. This kind of love could change the world.  It did mine.  Finally recognizing how well I am loved eliminates any desire to settle for less than what I already have...... from anyone.  Shine on! 

An example of how to live a joy filled life.  My young, beautiful cousin passed away this year.  The prototype of her life,  well lived, surrounded by love, in a  state of surrender and acceptance, are now daily aspirations for me.   Could I apply those qualities, especially in the minutia of my life?  If she could live and die in this kind of grace, I surely can remember, most of what I find myself upset or obsessing about, isn't important and if I can take no positive action to change it, I’ll be much more at peace if I surrender to it.   When I want to put off until tomorrow what I could/should be savoring today, I am also reminded that the happiest, emotionally healthiest individuals, are those that recognize today is all we have. Live in it.  

Experiencing Rejection.  I’ve had a few of these this year.  It wore on me and played nasty tricks on my self-esteem.   By mid year, thanks to an angel who said to me, repeatedly,  Rejection is God’s Protection....I not only now believe it myself, but I understand it!   If I am not given what I think I want in this life, a particular job, man, material object, or friendship, there is a reason.  It’s not mine to be had.  I am not supposed to be there at this time. It’s not a fit or perhaps, good for me.  I get that now.  Not only do I get it, I am also grateful for the protection.  I know the best things for me, are yet to come and I don’t need to keep banging on boarded up and dead bolted doors.  Perhaps I have just learned to trust in the Architect's design for my life. 

Learning to Welcome Change.  My moniker has always been The Queen of Change.  It’s a fact; I have had to adapt to a great deal of change in my life.  Much of it forced upon me by unfortunate circumstance.  Looking back, I’m immensely grateful now for the gift of emotional flexibility change has taught me.  This all ties in with God’s protection of me (see above).  If change happens, its simply time to do something different and grow.  I trust change as a necessary process in the evolution of my soul.  I am grateful for putting down my sword and making peace with change.    

My faith and an intimate connection with my Creator. I’ve always known there was something larger than me running things. I just really didn’t feel comfortable having a relationship with anything that powerful.  Power, equaled control and authority, something I’ve  rebelled against all my life.  My perception of God was, he was either my dad- restricting and punishing, or in times of burning desires granted, Santa Claus. When I did begin to view God in a more positive manner, I still just thought I wasn't one of His chosen.  I was the red-headed step-child, treated a little differently.   Something evolved in the past few years. The relationship I have now is one of communication, and the purest, sweetest love imaginable.  For me, God is not "out there", an authoritarian figure sitting on a throne doling out judgement or blessings.  God is a part of me - the holy spirit which guides me, comforts me and most of all shares with me.  All I need to do is tune in and listen rather than doing all the asking and talking.  (More reflections on the God of my understanding are forthcoming as the holidays near). 

In review, this year has again brought many earthly treasures into my life, and I am so  grateful for those riches.   Sometimes, though we have to dig a little deeper to unearth the heavenly gifts that will sustain far longer than a roof over our head or food in our belly's.  

Happy Thanksgiving to all!  May you take time to reflect and identify the good and your gratitude for those things that may not be so apparent this holiday season. 

We have no right to ask when sorrow comes, “Why did this happen to me?” unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way. - author unknown

No one state of being is constant.... even gratitude.  I have been back from spending some time in paradise with my family in Monterey, California, about a month now.  I was on Cloud Nine the weeks prior to my departure in spite of  some of the challenges I’ve been facing.  I floated home, all Zen...  Then, wham... life acted like life does sometimes, and all that changed.  A few new challenges arrived on the horizon and spun me in circles making me extremely dizzy (literally)  and emotionally incoherent.  A diagnosis of Vertigo should have called forth some gratitude.  I was certain I was having a stroke, or had a tumor.  Since then, other little irritations have been nibbling at me like a mosquito caught inside the back of my shirt.  It’s been a daily dose of a broken this, a new thingamajig that I couldn’t afford, an ominous health warning, some head banging against closed doors... again, and waves of loneliness I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.    Not a good elixir to enhance one’s serenity buzz.   Rather a deadly combination of self-pity, comparisons, expectations, and a seething low grade resentment or two.  Those feelings don’t attract positive folks, energy, or good juju into our lives.  So, I chose to hole up.  Really for two reasons.  One, on some level I was feeling all cozy, isolated in my pile of doggie do-do.  After all it was a familiar spot at least.  Second, I really didn’t want anyone to know this pillar of strength, optimism, and hope wasn’t really feeling the love.  God forbid I should be the AUTHENTIC  soul I blather on about and fess up to a few bad weeks.   I also forgot to be grateful, one of the tools I use, a tried and true method for reversing direction on the path to nowhere.  Hrrrmmmpphhh.... Why should I be grateful?  After all, everyone around me had so much more.  Ugly?  You bet.... but, that's where I was at.

I did blame a lot of it on the full moon this past week.  Seriously, I believe the moon can affect our frail little bodies and spirits.  Look at the impact it has on the tides!  A likely excuse.   The moon has also cast it’s love light, stroking the endorphins in my brain in the past.  Its MO hasn’t always been of a criminal intent, breaking in and sucking my serotonin dry.  I was reminded by the bookmark in my book of daily readings, that it had been about a month since I last visited.  Which meant, (yikes) it had been about a month since I last scheduled meditation onto my calendar, and probably two months since I had popped in the Yoga DVD.  Sure, I had lived my meditations in the heaven of California, but there is something to be said about routines, and consistency in maintaining our emotional well being.  I hadn’t been very good about concentrating on any well being;  spiritual, emotional, and now physical.   And, it was  showing up in my blood work, my stamina, my attitude, and my state of mind.  

I had been focusing way too much on my unfortunate series of misfortunes puzzled by why these things were happening to me, when essentially, I am a good, kind, honest person.  I’m a good friend to others, loyal, dependable and hardworking .  I remember, years ago when my husband was dying, reading the book by Rabbi Harold Kushner, When Bad Things Happen To Good People.  I simply could not get past my husband’s verdict of terminal cancer and was looking for answers anywhere and everywhere. In a nutshell, his point was, everyone has their time at the river of sorrow.  It has absolutely nothing to do with your goodness, how religious you are, how much you want, give, or do.  It is simply unanswerable.  At least in this lifetime.  But, the thing that takes the sting out of our hardships, is sharing our fears and weaknesses with others.   Hooking up at the heart with another human being and tuning into the sound of our similarities, helping us to know we aren’t unique, nor are we alone.   I hadn't  been doing nearly enough of that recently.  After all, I am strong.  I am invincible.  I am woman.  Such bullshit- all designed to create unhappy, isolated souls who have nothing of substance to pay forward.  I made a few phone calls today. 

As I start the work week, my alarm is set, I will arise in time for a morning kiss and a little one on one with my Creator, first.  Then, read my inspirational message of the day, meditate, and do something positive about my health - eating nourishing food and making my exercise a priority.  Additionally, I am going to start asking myself these questions.... 

Why me?  Why am I surrounded by love, when others have no one?   

Why me?  Why have I been blessed to travel the world when many haven’t even been out of their small town?

  Why me?  Why have I always been given enough to take care of my needs when many others have nothing?

  Why me?  Why have I been granted friendships that have sustained me through the toughest of times when others face discrimination, bullying and loneliness?

My list could (and should) go on... It will.  Every time I think why me when faced with a challenge or a sorrow, my plan is to ask my Creator,  “Why me, God?  Why have I been given so many wonderful experiences, people, and joys in my life?




The wheel of change moves on, and those who were down go up and those who were up go down.  ~Jawaharlal Nehru

Water.....

Anyone who's close to me, knows if I could pick just one heart’s desire of the materialistic sort, it would be to live on the beach.  I should clarify that proclamation or the law of attraction might have me living “on the sand” along with my knapsack of possessions:  a beach bum in every definition of the word.  That’s not exactly what I have in mind.  A little two room cottage will do. Now that’s my idea of residential heaven on earth. From the time I was a young girl, I’ve run to the water; for answers, for healing, for balance, and most of all to connect with my Creator. On a smaller scale, nothing rejuvenates me after a bad day like a soaking tub bath.  Years ago, the hot tub did the trick. It lived in my backyard and was particularly enticing in the winter time. I have the fondest memories of being immersed up to my neck in the midst of the swirling white silence of a snowstorm. My hair, frozen hard with frost, and the rest of my body was enveloped in a blanket of warmth, caressed lovingly by the water.  In this setting there was this sense of profound peace as I silently stargazed.  The water slipped into the nooks and crannies smoothing out the wrinkles of the day.  Yet, water’s value is hardly just aesthetic. Water ensures our continued life.   We would only live a day or two, tops, without water. Our physical bodies are 2/3rd’s water.  We use water to cleanse ourselves and our environments of germs.  It doesn’t stop at our physical bodies either. Water is used in many religions as a symbolic sign of rebirth, purifying the spirit to make room for the holy.   Water itself is soft.... pliable, yet, generates great power in the science of hydraulics, bringing a natural form of energy into our world. To witness the effect of water’s subtle power, look at rocks eroded by a rhythmic, tiny droplet  continuously dripping onto a surface. Mountains are carved.  If water has that kind of authority in nature, in a human body, and cleansing the soul, why wouldn’t I be mystified by it and hungry for the lessons it could teach me?

It’s really more than the water itself. It’s what lies beneath as well. I became entranced with the sea as a teen. Living in Bermuda, the hypnotic pull of the beach sparked my interest in the nether world that lie below sky and earth.  I recall the first time I snorkeled.  I fell hard.  Hook, line and sinker- crazy mad in love.   Mask firmly in place, pressing into my forehead, tight around my nose and eyes, it all felt awkward at first... breathing through a tube.  Until, I stopped fighting what I was unaccustomed to, slowed the frantic flopping of my flippers and relaxed. I began to skim the surface of the water, breathing naturally, and drifted gracefully along,  awe struck by the delicate treasures hiding out from the harsher world above.  At first I felt like an intruder, illegally breaking into a beautiful gated community. The only noise I detected was the rhythmic breath of the sea, and the faintest of heartbeats. Time and space had no meaning; hours seemed like minutes and when I peeked up above the water I had drifted much farther away from the shore than was safe.  I had truly entered a new planet, a foreign land, far, far away. It was magical, like a first love, perfect in every way.   

This life below was full of color and movement. Undulating, gliding, and slipping by me.  The brilliant palette, enhanced by the deep blue of the sea, vibrated with energy, a gallery of uncommon Art in motion. Jellyfish sensually trailing their threads of pain. Starfish with their intricate underbellies, each swirl a one of a kind fingerprint. And, sea anemones, extra terrestrial flowers of sorts, bright, happy colors adorning the ocean floor.   Everything was gentle, unhurried and peaceful down there.  I felt serene, like  my life had been dialed back to the low setting.  The sea life kept drifting by my line of vision, impassively, as if they couldn’t see me, a ghost in the midst of all of this vibrancy.  The meaning in their movement challenged me to try to live my life closer to a state of mindful appreciation.  Slower, easier, gentler.. with flexibility.  The feeling of freedom was close to a near death experience.  Awe, well-being and weightlessness overwhelmed me as I moved towards the light of the sun reflecting deep into the blueness of water. 

This scrapbook of old memories about my deep love of the water and seashore, was revisited recently as I toured the phenomenal Monterey Aquarium in California. What happened to those big dreams of the thirteen year old girl, whose sights were set on a career in oceanography?   It set into motion a new resolve, a middle-aged dream.  So I pulled out the dream board, comitted to work harder, and began to share my secret yearning to live and write by the sea! I envisioned that little two room cottage behind me as I sat on the sand, pen in hand, writing the messages whispered to me through the waves; the sun and the sky touching in and inspiring my heart to really see and hear what longs to be described to those who struggle with an ability to really see.  

Yes, the water, above and below, is a fountain of life and wisdom.  Showing me how to slow down, appreciate what’s around me, and listen patiently for the heartbeat.  For it is there, I always find the answers I seek. Not far behind comes the knowledge that I too, a creation born on land, come from the same power as that droplet of water.  Because of that, anything is possible.    

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea. - e.e. cummings

(All photo's taken at the spectacular Monterey Aquarium- Monterey, California)

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And, all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we did not take a trip; a trip took us. - John Steinbeck

Be Still and Know I am God......

I just returned from John Steinbeck country. This slice of the West Coast boasts some of the most scenic views in the world as well as rich farmlands bursting with fruits of the region. Fresh strawberries, lettuce, artichokes, avocados, and herbs are in abundance. The area oozes health of the physical, and spiritual variety. Temperatures are consistent year round, 65-75 degrees and the people seem to be grateful, simple, laid back, and friendly. Why wouldn’t they be? Essentially they are dwelling in Shangri-la.

Surreal views inviting us into another
world

Ice Plant - Don't let it fool you..
It grows despite the clay and rock and
takes over the cliff side.

Big Sur - Full Sun

Drives along the coast and Big Sur unveiled a painting:  layers of heather, azure, turquoise, and cerulean waters pulverizing into softness, smoky white sands.  In my travels, I have never seen sea water and terrain so diverse.  Venturing down the cliffs to the virgin beaches was a challenge, and commercially manufactured WARNING signs interrupted the sense of transcendence.  The cliffs too were a blanket of unlikely growth with hard, red clay surfaces unable to hold back the riot of dark green, aloe vera like plants known as Ice Plant, hot pink flowers sporadically peeking out from their tops.  Adding to the mystery and ethereal quality of it all, was a gossamer shroud of fog, like the sheerest of lingerie, sensually beckoning visitors to ignore the signs, throw caution to the wind and pursue her gifts.   Mesmerized by the seduction of the mermaids call, it was worth the risk to scale the cliff and drop into another world.  Charleton Heston when he lands on the beach in Planet of Apes came to mind.  This was an area where change could take place... if you let it.  The elusive feeling of oneness that we so desperately seek through literature, prayer, and human interaction just slipped in, with no effort on my part.  I became the sky, the sea, the land.  It took me. 

Sunset in another part of the world.

One evening, our fire logs, food, and blankets in tow, we trekked down to a more populated beach, Carmel by the Sea.  It was bonfire and cookout night!  Navigating the steep steps and climbing over mounds of rock to reach an alcove, my first thought was, “Good Lord, I hope we leave before dark.”  I knew we wouldn’t be because the sun was sliding slowly down the horizon when we arrived.  We started our fire, set up our grill and cooked our burgers.  By the time our bellies were full, the sun had been swallowed up by the sea, leaving our only remaining light to be a 2-3 foot perimeter around our tiny, blazing fire.   The air had taken on a nippy tone, and everyone gathered closer yet to the flames to stay warm.  And it got dark- pitch black. I looked for the moon.  It was nowhere to be seen.  There were a few other little campfires dotting the beach, and I could faintly see  black sillouhette’s outlined by the orange flames reassuring me that there was other civilization out there somewhere nearby.  The sound I heard off in the distance, reassuring me I was right where I needed to be, at the moment, was the intense crash of monster waves as they beat the sand into submission, the gritty granuales at the mercy of the whims of the water.  The cadence of the sound was like a repetitive mantra reassuring, in its sameness.  Hidden inside the noise of the water, a whisper, tickling my brain.  It said,  “I'm in charge. Enjoy this moment, for in this instant is all the wisdom you will ever need.” I felt every muscle in my body relax as I focused on nothing except the sticky sweetness of a melted marshmallow dissolving inside my mouth.  Time slowed and my mind felt like it had been shot full of Novocaine, all tingly, and devoid of man made emotion and thought. Just one sensation remained.  I didn’t think the word “awe”... I felt it with every cell in my body.  

The moon rose up through
the mist and clouds to
guide our way

Soon, the fire was just a few burning embers.  Our skin resembled the scales of a native Pacific salmon to the touch.  We had become truly one with the sea and it was time to slowly re-emerge into the reality, we weren’t of the sea, and we needed to get warm.  In that moment of recognition, the moon suddenly rose, our heavenly flashlight, illuminating our path.   Over the rocks, and up the side of the cliff.  It was as if God said, “See.  All you need to do is enjoy every moment of your life, second by second, with no thoughts for the future.  When its time to move forward, I will provide you with all the knowledge and light you need to get to your next destination.”  

A bonfire on the beach wasn’t in my plans particularly. I had no thoughts of indulging in its simplicity. I had a schedule of sights to see and things to do.   But, it was one of the best things about my trip.  We are constantly receiving gentle (and not so gentle reminders) we aren’t in charge of the Universe, and  the best laid plans, are no plans.  Go with the flow, and trust that the journey will take you where you need to be, to places purposeful and meaningful to your particular trip.   And the best laid lives are those  who allow their journey to take them.  The predictable, consistent, tides ebbed and flowed without my help.  The sun set beautifully over another day  and the moon rose just exactly when it needed to.   

Freedom and joy, pure joy....

Viva the end to struggle!

An Affair to Remember- Real Food

 I was born with a spoon in my mouth.  It wasn’t silver, but, that doesn’t matter, any old spoon will do.  I love food.  My affair with food began very early.  When I was four, we moved to Germany and a favorite family story, retold with a chuckle, was my bravery in indulging in steak tartare (raw beef) and escargot (snails).   Remember the Life cereal commercial with Mikey?  I was Mikey... I ate everything.  Maybe in a past life, I was a starving child.  I just know in this one, I love food.  My mantra was bring it on, I’ll try it.  Early experimentation must have honed sensitive taste buds that were head over heels in love with an epicurean lifestyle.  For me, eating was like a daily vacation into mine (or someone else's) kitchen paradise.   One of the highlights of my day was pondering what I was going to make, or, what I was going to have for dinner.  The blush of new love in my affair with food, surprisingly lasted well beyond the traditional honeymoon period: a good 40 years or so. 

Over the last decade our relationship, (mine and food) has changed.  I found myself eating alone more, and filling the void with fast fixes, serial eating whatever convenient quickie was available at the moment. The family size bag of chips on a Friday night was my tried and true companion, leaving me sprawled on the couch in a carb coma.  I noticed this was also about the same time the FDA began the mandatory labeling process.  It coincided with the low-fat/ fat-free craze.  I began to pore over labels as if smitten by the latest NY Times bestseller, mentally picturing those fat grams clinging to my thighs like frightened children.  The labels grew more explicit and I was now watching sodium, fiber content and doing an Internet search on the chemical make-up of all the ingredients listed.  There was some hesitancy when I saw words like phosphate, enzyme modified, conditioned, artificial and colored. A decade from now, would the same foods have a label plastered on the packaging warning against Red Dye #2 explaining my permanent sun-kissed skin pigmentation?  Some of my packaged meals professed a whopping 42 ingredients! I don’t think a Master’s degree in Chemistry could explain to me why these chemicals were sprinkled onto my food like fresh herbs over an exquisite French dish.  Yet, I continued to eat this light, half the calories, reduced fat, processed cuisine. After all, it was good for me.  The label and the diet industry said so.   Although, I seemed to be hungrier than I recall years ago when I indulged in real fat and unmodified calories.  I also began to notice strange happenings to my body.  Rather than getting smaller eating less fat, half the calories, and light, I was witnessing a midsection engaged in a heated battle of the pudge.  The other half of that missing fat showed up and invaded in droves, spilling over the top of my mid rise jeans. 

Then the low carb craze struck.  Oh, boy!  Now, it really didn’t matter that I cut back on fat, I just needed to give up carbs!   No more bread, beans, or fruit; a few of my food favorites, but people were dropping weight as fast as old baggage at a group therapy session.  So what if their hair was also falling out and they felt lethargic.  They were thin.   

A few years ago, I visited Italy.  I had envisioned Italians predominately like the picture in my kitchen; roly-poly, mustached chef, tossing a pizza in the air as his belly peeked out from a shirt that was way too small. I was wrong!  In my six weeks there, I saw two overweight people.  As I moved closer to them in the Gelato line at the corner stand, I  overhead their conversation, spoken in English, infused with a twang of Bronx.  The Italians ate like I used to eat years ago, only better.  They knew how to make a meal an event. Long leisurely sessions with 4-5 courses spent savoring bread, pasta, freshly prepared seafood dripping in butter, and pizzas with ingredients you wouldn’t imagine on top of homemade crusts.   I was in heaven again, and I even lost a few pounds during my time there. Perhaps there is something to be said for eating fresh, chemical free food and approaching it as a loving friend instead of an enemy that needs to be calculated and conquered.  Maybe food wasn’t meant to be modified and altered to fuel bodies that weren’t designed to ingest and process poly’s, pheno’s, and phospho’s. 

My dieting bottom came the other day as I pulled a teeny-weeny appetizer treat out of the freezer; low calorie, the box touted. As I opened the end, two miniature cups the size of Tinkerbell’s cereal bowl tumbled out on the counter.  Checking the cooking directions I was surprised to see the FDA (aka the food police) and the manufacturers have now stepped things up a notch.  The directions read: Remove dip bowel and pita bread from box. PLACE BOX WITH OTHER 200 SERVING PORTION BACK IN THE FREEZER!  As I debated whether the minuscule portion would be enough to satisfy my lingering hunger, I swear I heard sirens go off, lights flashing and a megaphoned voice say, “Lady, back away from portion two.  Move away from the dip bowel immediately.”     

It’s time to fess up to my love affair with good food, bring it out of the back room, into the light of day.  No more low fat, low carb, low sodium, or packaged meals that exercise secret mind control tactics. 

Article published in Gallon Inquirer October 2011

911 - Ten Years Later

All week the news has saturated us with terrible images and tales of “where were you” ten years ago.  For months the media has built anticipation into this upcoming anniversary.   Even locally, a church in my area is welcoming a filmmaker who happened to be in NYC on September 11, 2001 producing a documentary on the life of a firefighter.   When the first tower was hit, he turned his camera toward the terror in the skies and later on the ground as the firefighters he was there to film, responded to the biggest disaster and act of war in their lives.  Many of them lost their lives.  The posters promoting his visit, detailed the scenes of horror he witnessed as well as gave a cautionary note to parents about the authenticity of the film as bodies could be heard hitting the ground in the movie. The church was excited to be able to host this event and promoting it throughout the surrounding areas. I won’t be attending. Frankly, I was appalled.  

The idea of visually living that day again was enough to make my stomach turn. Everyone has their story of what they were doing on September 11th.  I can tell you, I was at work, tuned into a television in a student lounge with co-workers and a few students. I witnessed the plane hitting the second tower.  I heard the fear in the broadcasters voices as they relayed news of a plane hitting The Pentagon as well as one crashing in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.  The uncertainty of what would happen next was immobilizing and beyond frightful.  I recall spending my entire work day in that student lounge seeing images of the towers collapsing on the small television, replayed over and over again by the media.  Everyone just wanted to be in the arms of their families.  I remember thinking as I left work that day, my first stop would be a brief visit to see my daughter and son-in-law and give them a big hug. I wanted to hold my one year old granddaughter close and kiss her little face all over in a layer of gentle protection.  I remember the irony in the blue skies and bright sunshine of the day.  Yet, somehow even breathing in the air, felt menacing.  There was barely any traffic on the roads and this sense of the surreal, a hint of The Twilight Zone, surrounded me.  I don’t know how I got home, I think I was driving in a dream state.  I had this sense of the most profound violation; like someone had broken into my home, and destroyed everything in sight and was just lying in wait for me to arrive and take me out as well. Why would I want to dredge up those feelings again?  If I felt that way, living 500 miles away, how did everyone who was in NYC and DC  feel on that day?   What is it in our nature that makes us so inclined to revisit pain and suffering as a way to memorialize? 

There is this philosophy, we must never, ever forget.  For me that does not include rehashing the horror of the day.  I don’t have to visit Auschwitz to imagine what life must have been like during Hitler’s reign of insanity for those of the Jewish faith. Nor, do I need to see filmstrips of Pearl Harbor being attacked to understand what war did to our country’s innocence almost 70 years ago.  These heinous bits of our history are burned into the souls of every generation.  It’s not important that we never forget;  we won’t, nor could we.   It’s that we never, ever seem to learn.  Religious and political hatred is a thread that has weaved it’s way through history since the beginning of time. The solution isn’t to keep the fires of anger, terror, and fear stoked.  We attract what we send out.  You can’t educate or heal through images of bodies in mass graves or buildings collapsing, violent acts, and fear. The solution is never to keep the scab picked into a state of seeping sensitivity.  We can, and do heal through messages of rebirth, courage, hope, service and new beginnings. We heal by lovingly rebuilding, acts of kindness, and precious memories: focusing on the imprint those who died, made on the lives of the living.  The scar will always be there.  That is enough of a reminder of the suffering. Let’s focus on the stories of the survivors and families and how they’ve inspired others.  Let’s applaud the bravery of the children and spouses in going on and building meaningful lives,  making their contributions to a better world,  in honor of their deceased loved ones.  Let’s be in awe, and learn from their determination to not allow terrorists to define the remainder of their lives as children of 911 or 911 widows or widowers.  

My day will be spent thinking about the survivors, and their families, wishing them blessings for the rest of their lives.  My day will be spent silently honoring those that lost their lives.  My day will be spent praying for the politicians that are entrusted to make decisions that have an impact on history, to be guided in making choices that are conducive to the unselfish,  agenda free,  greater good.   My day will be spent asking God to continue to shed His grace on our beautiful country. Most of all, the prayer on my lips all day long, will be that somehow, in my grandchildren's lifetime, they won't have to witness or live with the aftermath of  intolerance and hatred. 

Oh, beautiful for heroes proved, in liberating strife.

Who more than self, their country loved

And, mercy, more than life.

America, America

May God thy gold refine

Til all success be nobleness

And every gain divine.....

Til selfish gain, no longer stain

The banner of the free. 

(excerpted from America the Beautiful- words by Katherine Lee Bates)

As you recognize your wholeness and worth, dysfunctional situations will evaporate like bad dreams exposed to the morning sun. - Alan Cohen

Many years ago I learned the power contained in the not so simple act of making amends to others for wrongs I had committed.  I was terrified the first time I stepped forward, looked another human being in the eye, and told them I was so sorry for the pain I had caused them. It wasn’t a pleasant experience to witness (or hear) the repercussions of my acts reflected back to me in their face, tears, voice, and body language.  Yet, somehow, the result of those humble confessions was the carving of a clear path for something mystical to slip in and build a bridge between two human hearts.  Through the years, having experienced this process many times, (I try to catch it early on these days when I hurt someone or am dishonorable) the result of this act has always been the same.  A peace that is indescribable and a conscience that is generally  squeaky clean. 

But, what do you do when someone has caused YOU harm and suffering?   How do you move beyond the episodic pain of the mistreatment, unconsciously revisited in your dreams, quiet times, or triggered by everyday events?  The wise ones tell us forgiveness is the answer.... our only escape.  What if you have forgiven, and still cannot forget?  What then?  This was a puzzle to me.  I had done all of those things, looked for my part in the great drama, prayed for peace and blessings for the other, and let go. Still the “acts” of mistreatment continued to wax and wane; sporadically images of neglect, dishonor, selfishness, and emotional abuse kept rising to the surface.  Granted, others did keep those injustices fueled by often revisiting them with me.  I know that was their loving way   of reminding me should I ever forget just how bad it was.  Its intent was to keep minimization away.... a coping mechanism we humans (ie: me)  seem to use for protection.    But, this kind of “never forget”  therapy also managed to keep the negativity alive. Additionally, it blocked any good memories that arose. And, there were a few hiding out behind the pain.   Worst of all, it kept others at a distance.   Everything I was taught and knew to be the antidote for resentment and anger was not working.  I needed to bring in some big guns to fight this battle, because I couldn’t even understand why the war was still raging within.    

I took things to a higher level and slept with the question under my pillow.  Dear God...  What do I need to do to be free from this self-torture and live in love again? I know it is not Your intention that I should continue rewinding this outdated movie playing in my head. Show me what I need to do.  Night after night the crumpled paper under my pillow produced few results. Months went by. I didn't give up my faith that something, somehow, someday, would be revealed, hopefully soon.  Honestly, I was beginning to see the ugly parts of the past like a passenger in the backseat of a vehicle riding away from the wreckage of a tornado.  It looked distant, but felt unfinished, like there was still a big mess that needed to at least be cleaned up; even if I didn't want to live there anymore. 


 A few weeks ago, I had a dream.  In it, I stood across from and looked directly into the sad, seeking, face of this loving, compassionate, worthwhile, woman.  Her eyes locked mine seeking answers. I told her I was sorry for not listening to her intuitions.  I was sorry for setting all her needs aside. I was sorry for not protecting her from others devaluation and harm. I apologized to her for believing she wasn’t worthy of better.   Most of all I was sorry for treating her time, aspirations and dreams as though they weren’t important. It was about time... Finally...  I made a heartfelt amend.... to myself.  I heard The Voice say to me, “Well, done.  It is almost finished.... Now.... forgive yourself.”

The air is clean and fresh.  There's space now for light to enter and cast a faint glow on the bits that were good-  that which was love. That  illumination is allowing me to now see, all connections are by design and purposeful.  No timeline in our lives, however dysfunctional, is without it’s own particular (sometimes peculiar) blessings. I am also reminded that the law of attraction tells me, I draw into my life, not necessarily what I want, but what I am.  I suppose I can see that now because I am looking at the big picture through the eyes of a strong, healthy woman who recognizes her value. A woman who now knows, you cannot dispense what you don't think you deserve or can give yourself.    

Making my amend, to the appropriate soul (mine), has given me the vision to edit the reel to reel, cutting out the horror flick and creating a human interest story about the only thing which is everlasting, love.  There was some of that there too. 

Touched by An Angel by Maya Angelou We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life. Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls. We are weaned from our timidity In the flush of love's light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.