Seven reasons to not give up hope

Hope is a crazy thing.  It can be like a drug for the faithful, a curse for the depressed or a elixir for the hopeful.  Hope, as defined by Webster’s is a feeling or expectation and desire for certain things to happen.  Hope is referenced again and again in the Bible.  In the Book of Job, for instance, we investigate the issues around divine justice.  “so the poor have hope and injustice shuts her mouth” begs the question, why do the righteous suffer?  Why do we suffer so as humans?  In Science of Mind, hope is separated from faith, in that Faith is a substance, and does not look outside itself for answers, but within itself for truth.

The other day I was walking my dog near a local shopping center which is in a poorer section of town.  Strewn upon the ground all around the entrance to the convenience store inside the shopping center are numerous lottery tickets.  Scratched off in anticipation and hope and left, abandoned with dismay along the sidewalk.  9% and in some cases, nearly 20% of income in the poorest households in the US is spent on lottery tickets.  More than food, just behind rent.  Even when things seem at their lowest, people inherently still believe in possibilities of abundance.

I believe hope or faith is still a very powerful force in society today.  One that can transform lives from dismal to Disney.  Here are seven reasons I see not to give up hope.

(1) Children.  If you have not spent much time around kids, I encourage you to do so.  They light up rooms.  They are imaginative, innocent and non-judgmental.  They seek to have fun and learn and experience life to the fullest.  Children will love you when you feel much like no one else will.
(2) Pets.  When you come home from a long day on the job, a pet will greet you as if you were the King of England.  Pets love us no matter what and they are forth coming about when we mess up too.  The relationship we have with them is a $500 million dollar a year industry in the US.  Pets, a lot like children, will love you, even when you are feeling at your worst.  This is a good thing.
(3) Global Climate Change. What? You ask.  How can this be a good thing; well, I didn’t say it was a good thing.  I said, it is a reason not to give up hope.  You see, now that the majority of world citizens agree that global climate change is real, we can finally begin to make a plan to address it.  Nearly everyone disagrees on the particulars, but 97% of scientists and 63% of Americans believe it is real.  Now all we have to do is deal with it.
(4) Common Core.  Many social news pundits and conservatives have criticized it; but it is likely here to stay.  No different that the “No Child Left Behind” policies of the early 2000’s; Common Core has at least, for now, opened up the debate about how education in America is conducted and to a certain extent, internationally, how it should be measured and what value will be placed on achievement.  It is no longer about widgets, but about how the widget was conceived.
(5) Pop Culture.  Even though I find it to be abhorrently annoying, Pop Culture is thriving, as it always has.  When my father was a teenager, his parents complained about his music, the way he wore his pants or combed his hair. And when I was a teenager, the same went for me and my father.  Now, as a parent of a young child, I see the connection Pop Culture has to adolescent development in general and how, even though we bemoan that things are worse today things are no different than they were 50 years ago; give or take a few mass shootings.
(6) Technology. In the book Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn, his main character, a gorilla, states that in the end, either technology will save us or be the death of our civilization as we know it.  He is right.  Technology, with all of its modern achievements has done a great deal to improve quality of life.  However, it is how we choose to use this power that will ultimately determine the success or failure of these advancements.
(7) Soil.  Not just dirt... that is not what I mean.  I mean soil, a living organism that covers the Earth's surface. Scientists say that more carbon resides in soil than in the atmosphere and all plant life combined; there are 2,500 billion tons of carbon in soil, compared with 800 billion tons in the atmosphere and 560 billion tons in plant and animal life.  And with new laws regarding organics in landfills, we have a huge opportunity to convert our trash into compost that will literally save the world.  

In the end, I believe firmly that Life is Good, like the T-shirt says.  We only ought to believe it is so and so shall it be. Hope, while something grand and benevolent to attribute to one another, is still a measure we use outside ourselves, where, truly, the greatest measure for our achievements lies within our own selves, our own lives and beliefs.  Pick up the lottery ticket and know that you are a winner, no matter what the outcome and that is the greatest form of faith, absent of hope, you can have.

It truly is a Wonderful Life

In the movie, 'It’s a Wonderful Life', an “old soul” George Bailey has grown up in a small town with big dreams.  He’s a kind-hearted man, giving generously of himself, often to the detriment achieving his dreams of building bridges and traveling to far off lands.  After being accused of embezzlement by Mr. Potter, in desperation, George gets down on his knees and begs to God.  This, too, is an act of faith; pure supplication to some higher power for redemption.  And this, is typically the normal human view of how faith is utilized in life.  

 George makes a request to God, that he wishes he had never been born and soon arrives AS-2, (Angel Second Class) Clarence Oddbody; his guiding angel, sent from Heaven to help George realize the glorious life he already has.  Clarence grants his wish and George is given a chance to experience what life would be like, if he had never been born.  It’s through this dark, nightmarish, experience that he connects with his inner self, the life of God.  And faith is transformed from a supplication to a higher power to a belief and embodiment of the goodness that is in each and every one of us.  

Without Faith, George would not have ever gotten over his accident and loss of hearing in his ear.  Without Faith, he wouldn't have prevented Mr. Gower from possibly poisoning a client.  Without faith, he wouldn't have become an inspiration and community icon to so many in Bedford Falls who remained faithful to him in his darkest hour.

Near the end of the film, Clarence writes an inscription inside a book for George which reads, “remember, no man is a failure who has friends."  George is given the gift of restored faith in his life and gratitude for simple acts that make a difference in the lives of some many people.  And he is shown that faith in God is different that faith of God.  Pure faith is a spiritual conviction, an embodiment of an idea and an inner knowing that God is as much within us as is all around us.  It wasn't until George realized that his belief in his goodness was greater than any apparent lack that his life was regained and Clarence was granted his wings.

Principle is not bound by precedent.  Thus, no matter what happened to me in my past, no matter what happens to me today, no matter what ever happens, I can always choose to believe with conviction that my source is pure and just.  Faith is the substance of things hoped for (dreams for travel and prosperity and success) and the evidence of things unseen (the love and loyalty of a community bound together by kindness and character).

Recently I saw just how faith plays out in the lives of every day humans.  First, I was at a local park with my son and my newly returned to me dog.  We were just getting ready to leave, so my dog was on leash, yet, something caught my son's attention and he ran towards the parking lot.  I saw in the distance my ex-husband and his girlfriend and their new dog. I watched as my son played in earnest with them and the new dog and how my own dog, once part of that family, suffered in agony in the torture to see them in a distance but yet not be let free to run to them.

It wasn't but a month ago that my ex-husband called me to remove this dog from his home because he had been bitten.  He assured me that he had "beaten the shit out of him" and was anxious to have him removed from the premise forthwith.  Yet, this day, the dog yearned to see him.  Out of shear innocence and hope I let the dog go, in aspiration that there would be a happy reunion.  But, alas, my ex-husband shrugged off our dog as if he'd never even know who he was.  And our dog, confused, unrelentingly pursued his touch, his approval, his love.  Oh, to have the faith of a dog.

I've come to realize that faith plays a huge part in forgiveness.  Without faith that there is something other than suffering, it can be intimidating to move forward.  In the last year, I have been so mired in the apparent "loss" of something, that I failed to see that I can "choose" to see it all differently.  I don't have to choose to suffer, I just do because it is what I've always done and that is what I was taught to do....  I can choose to say, well, sure, it may seem like I lost this and that and he treated me this way and such, but I choose love.

The truth is, no matter how his ego tells it, I willingly gave so much to him (beyond measure) and I accepted all of his treatment simply lovingly.  Because he did not know what he was doing and we cannot fault him for that, what else is there to say?

As much as I have resentment towards him for "what I perceive he has taken from me" I also know that I gave of everything freely.  I loved this man so very much.  I helped him without desire for anything in return. Yet, honestly, there is a part inside of me that wants to curse him for what I have "lost" and feel some kind of retribution for the "wrongs" committed.

Yet, then I realize that that kind of thinking will only keep me stuck.  I will only feel let down, deflated and defeated at the end of the day.  Like George Bailey, my actions have far-reaching affects that, should I choose to not have been born, life would be less wonderful.  And then I remembered that Principle is not bound by Precedent.  Oh, thank God.

There is a power so much greater than our prayers, rituals and spells that might blow our minds should we see the truth as it really is.  That is why folks who have come back from life/death experiences have shared one final piece of advice: live each day as if it were your last.

As much as I'd like to claim that I have some kind of power over the future of my son, I know in my heart that he is here on his own volition and he is on his own path.  As much as I'd like to change the circumstance for how I've become who I am today, I can only give thanks for what I now have: namely Ziggy and Chulo among other many blessings.

Joel Goldsmith says to follow these simple principles to live a full and healthy life.  I believe they are worth sharing.
~ Love "God" (or whatever spiritual entity you name it) with all your heart
~ Acknowledge that  its entity is the only power/source/energy/life/law
~ Treat everyone else like you treat yourself; remember we are all mirrors (so if you treat yourself like shit, maybe you should reconsider)
~ Forgive - yourself and others
~ Pray for you enemies
~ Realize your infinite nature as an individualize expression of the Infinite Spirit
~ He that hath shall be given -- practice gratitude daily
~ Seek to demonstrate GOD qualities (i.e. love, kindness, grace, peace, joy, prosperity, etc.) and not THINGS
~ Meditate
~ Live in the NOW

I personally feel like if you do these things in earnest and with truth and veracity in your heart you will see a change in your life beyond valuable measure and which, will likely be subtle to the naked eye beyond measure.

So, if my ex-husband is out there, reading this blog, I'd like to say that I forgive him.  I forgive that he was so self-absorbed and juvenile to behave the way he did and that I loved him so much I could no longer let him treat me the way he had been accustomed to treating me.  I understand that he must have been confused and misdirected to behave as such and for that, I forgive him.  I am thankful for the lessons he has given me.  Most grateful for our son.

And I ask him to forgive me too because I wasn't innocent.  I definitely lost my sense of self and became needy and intolerant.  I was totally in love with him and I am unsure if he ever felt the same for me, but in the end it doesn't matter because I wanted only the best for him; as that is all that I continue to wish for him.

It's kinda weird not to blame or seek judgement and condemn.  It's really sort of freeing, but at the same time a little nerve wracking because we, as humans, are so used to the drama. All I can say for myself is that I have learned, from a very classy lady, that surrender is the means to all ends, for those who are wise, just as George did, remember who they are.

The Dance

A few months ago my ex-husband found my blog and became angry because I had implied he was 'abusive' without reason.  He, as a reaction to my 'defiance', decided to take our dog, Chulo, away from me and our son . We had an unwritten agreement that that dog goes wherever our son goes.  Our son has grown up with Chulo.  It all seemed rational at the time.  When our son stays with me, Chulo would come, and that had brought comfort to our son, adjusting to a new arrangement.  But based upon some irrelevant reaction, my ex decided that was no longer a valid arrangement.

Before, when we'd open the door, the first thing our son would say would be, "Chulo?!" with surprise and delight.  And yet, now, without him to answer the door, he seemed, to be quite frank, dismayed. This has caused some confusion and consternation for our son.  He doesn't like having Chulo away from him for long periods of time. He asks about him a lot.   I asked my ex to reconsider his position but he told me to in so many words, to "fuck off", and not discuss it with him any more.

The whole experience has left me sad and feeling like a victim all over again.  What RIGHT does he have to TAKE anything away from me?

And, I realize that my very resistance to his antagonism is, in a way, pacifism.  I shut down and he wins.  And yet, his antagonism, is a form of pacifism; because by afflicting fear in me, he doesn't have to actually "deal" with reality.  We are, in short, mirrors.

The way that I react to his aggression is only a measure of my amount of work I have left to do.  The idea of sitting back and allowing him to do this again seems fruitless and unfair, but the idea of fighting with a soul that is as bruised and damaged as he is, seems pointless.  I guess I believe that all I can do is express love. Love Chulo from afar and love our son as he begs for his companion and furthermore, love my ex for his misunderstanding of the Truth of the Law of the Universe.

It got me to thinking about my last project for a recent VCSL class where we learned about our inner sanctuaries; our "castles" we build around our stories.  We build walls around each story.  We create fortresses for our entire lives.  Once built, we acquire some kind of certainty, to which others can only respond in acquiescence.  We, in short, build entire castles around our stories, which, should we want to live in wholeness and freedom, must be broken down, in order to live a fuller life.  It takes a lot of effort to build a castle, let alone the amount of work required to consciously tear it down.

During the class, each of us was given a quote for which we were asked to reflect upon during the remaining weeks.  At first, I did not like my quote, as which, many of the other students had also expressed. But, as I sat with it; the quote became relevant to me, as quite perfect for this very period of my life. Had it appeared at any other time, it would have not made the impact that it did for me.

It was: "Life is the dancer and you are the dance." by Eckhert Tolle.  It's not very magnificent nor magical. It is sort of, "huh??"  And that is precisely why I both, at first loathed it and then, after time, fell in love with it.

Eckhert also said, "I am not just a person floating around aimlessly, nor am I just a person. (unattached ??) I am not IN the Universe; but rather I AM the Universe which is in me, is awakening, experiencing, having its being in ME." He goes on to say that every expression of "ME" is fleeting. And then loses me in all his verbosity.

Although, the word fleeting stuck with me.  It, in itself is a wonderful word.  A dear friend recently relayed a quote from a book he was reading, (Busting Lose from the Money Game), that basically said, "remember that days are not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but are only food for the fires of the heart".  Edmund Wilson.  That whole Castle class now seems frivolous when I read this quote.

I replied to him that, in life, everything seems consumed and not permanent.  And he remained attached to the idea that these "experiences" are food for the heart and what a beautiful expression that was.  And it is, but then I emphasized to him the difference between food and fuel.  One is meant to nourish and the other is meant to be consumed. Both are necessity, which is the most necessary?  And then I reminded him again, that everything in this life is fleeting.  Nothing is permanent.  Life is, unfortunately, a paradox.

And then, as if by some guided force, our Reverend gave her last message about the paradox of reality.  She reminisced when, as a child, she'd hang upside-down and what a glorious view it gave of the world.  And then she questioned, which reality is the real one?  Upside down or right-side up?  She reasoned, as did, Ernest Holmes, that the "reality" we choose is the reality we experience.  So. there is no "wrong" and no "right" but there only "IS".

Should I believe that my ex-husband's angry words are simply "his life" and I am my own dancer?  I can choose to dance his dance or chose my own music?  Can I see that life is fleeting and the thoughts we have and actions we choose, lay the bricks of our lives (castles)  ( i.e. bearing a child together) and yet see that this is not a house with which to lay a foundation, but rather, just bricks, as they were laid, with no real other meaning beyond their very existence?  Maybe, in fact, strewn upon the ground aimlessly?  

 Is this child, shared between us nourishment or something to be consumed?  Is he nothing more than a necessity?  I think he is a divine gift.

Nourishment and consumption is based upon the degree to which a soul lacks or serves.  A soul that is fed and nourished gives back.  A soul that is hungry and in lack, takes.  Our son does nothing but gives, freely and innocently, but we, as broken humans in this crazy world, seem to place other values on his very existence.

Anything, that brings joy to a child, which is then taken away out of spite and anger, is a tool used for oppression by those who are hungry and malnourished in Spirit. And you know, Karma is a bitch.  I've said that before.

I don't mean to judge, really, I don't, but after beating this dog for mistakes that are well beyond the understanding of a dog's responsibility, this man was himself bitten by the very animal he abused.  Tell me Karma wasn't present in that moment?  It's fleeting, not built in stones of actions or words.  It comes and goes... this presence of Spirit.  There is no hard and fast rule for how Spirit retaliates, because It never retaliates, but simply answers, like for like. Spirit's only response, in the LAW of God is YES.  What you put in, comes out.  It's a mirror.  And mirrors are easily shattered.

The sad fact is that I lived a long time in FEAR.  And what I received was fearful things.  Now, as I step across the threshold from fear to trust.  From deception to love, I see that life can be so much more than the reality that Ego or society or controlling, manipulating empty souls paint for us.  God has a pallet of colors so magnificent we are shamed by our smallness as we approach the opening from the unreal to the real believing that we are not worthy of the greatness of God.  But no matter, God loves us just the same.

When I open the door to my dog today, I open the door to a new reality.  One that answers, YES to life and love.  One that exists in the reality of fleeting trust and ambivalence of this human reality and duality.  This doorway is the the very crossroads between that which is built by humans and that which is the life of God. Thank God I have the gift of crossing it.  Thank God it exists to teach me the difference between the two. Thank God for this dance; even though I feel uncertain, I see that I am not in control and things are not permanent, no matter how real they seem at the time.  And the fleetingness is a precious gift, not a prison, not built like walls of old stories that hold us in the past.

First Draft - I'm dreaming of a series of short stories.....

If I had to describe my life so far in one word, I would use unplanned. I don't believe I was part of my mother's plan any more than my son was part of mine. Looking back on the last 40 years, I wonder whether a plan would have had me end up in some other place with some other set of circumstances. As a teenager, I struggled to fit in as much as I struggled to abate my sadness over my mother having left. Equally consuming for a girl just experiencing puberty, each guided me down a path, which has led to extreme self-loathing. Had I naturally felt a sense of belonging and had good self esteem, perhaps I would not have allowed so many people take advantage of me. Nor would I have likely been so dammed confused about my role in relationships.

The snow was falling all around me as I wept.  The flakes flitted here and then there.  It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  I felt as if God was here with me right at the moment.  Yet, I also felt so totally all alone.  Abandoned.  Rejected.  Forlorn.  Here I was, 40 years old, alone, afraid and searching for meaning in the woods I used to frequent as a child.  It made me think about my life in terms of not just memories but building blocks for who I was yet to become.

~~~

It was fall in Morgantown. The brilliant stands of robust hardwoods; maples, oaks, sweet gums and cherries were ablaze. I slumped myself down between a tree trunk and the rock lined wall circling Woodman Hall. It was about 10 pm. I had been drinking. A local bar that notoriously turned the other cheek for freelance freshman ID's had provided ample opportunity for me to drown my thoughts with $0.10 pints. Tears ran down my cheek. Wallowing in self pity, I picked at the wet leaves around my feet. I inhaled deeply and smelled the scent of rich, decomposing earth. It had rained the night before and the ground was still wet. Autumn in West Virginia was a melancholic time.  It was by far my favorite time of year. The forest unconditionally celebrated autumn's annual return with magical, colorful, and captivating displays for all to see.  It marked another season for change, but not like the others. No, Autumn was about death and going into hibernation and darkness and shedding that which is no longer needed. It was just this time of year, about seven years prior when my mother left my father, me and my brother to find herself.
I was about 12 years old. My mother and I had just returned from a grocery shopping trip. I say trip because I grew up in a home about 40 miles from everywhere. We had gone to the Tops Friendly Market in Olean because they were honoring double coupons and because we had gone to visit my mother's 'friend' in the hospital. He had had a heart attack a few weeks earlier. My mother was a home health nurse for the regional to hospital system. She cared for elderly and home-bound ill patients who had no one else to care for them. Frank, her friend, was a 70- some year old man she knew from when she was an intern at Sylvania back in the 1960's when the town was actually a town and Frank wasn't an invalid but a handsome engineer. Frank had since grown old, and for some unknown reason to me at the time, his family had abandoned him. She had had a crush on him back then, yet now, it seemed to me that things had evolved. I wasn't the only one who thought so as well. My father, now home too confronted my mother in the kitchen.
"Where the hell have you been?" He asked in a perturbed tone.
"Shopping at Tops" she retorted.
I am uncertain how the conversation progressed, the details are hazy, but at one point he asked her, "do you plan on being a wife or do you want out?"
Grocery bags and various toiletry products lay scattered across the floor; yet to be placed in their respective places. My mother dropped the bag she was folding and simply walked back to her bedroom. The silence was palpable.
She soon appeared with a few items and then walked out the front door. And that was it. She was gone.  I didn't know it at the time, but that was the end of my parent's marriage.
~~~
My butt was getting wet and I noticed I was shivering. The tears had stopped and I was hungry. I got up and crossed the street. The lights of the student union seemed overly luminescent and gave off a slight hissing noise. Clanking of doors opening and closing caught my attention. There were about ten doors on the front the building and it always seemed as though someone was walking through each one of them at any given moment. It was a threshold crossed by hundreds of young people every day. Some rushed, some languidly savoring the free time college life afforded them. Some sad. Some happy. Some older. Some quite young. All of us moving independently yet as one collective, the student body. As if we were one body, one flesh, one soul on this campus for a short time with a collective purpose.
I opened a door, crossed the threshold as a sucking wind whooshed over me and I went from the chilly fall evening into the vast, florescent, fabricated living room for 20,000 20-somethings.  Taco Bell seemed like a good choice.  And the savory, salty, fatty goodness served up for a mere $.99/taco was too good to pass up at this hour.
I had never eaten at a fast food restaurant, other than McDonald's prior to arriving to Morgantown.  I lived in rural Pennsylvania in a county of less than 3,000 located in the middle of the Allegheny National Forest. It was a hunting and fishing Mecca. As a young girl growing up, outside my bedroom door was a gun cabinet, which was always left unlocked. A few antlers and stuffed fowl decorated the basement walls where we kept jars of canned vegetables, sauces and fruits from our garden. I fed chickens at 6 am before the bus came to carry me the 30 minutes into town to our school. For fun, as teenagers, we'd steal beer left in the back of trucks parked outside the various "hunting camps".  It was a very wild and safe place to explore the limits of rules for community.  My grandfather had been born, spent his whole life and died in this town.  My father would too.  I would not.  
The juicy, salty, fattening burrito filled up my belly and cleared away a bit of the drunken haze. But my heart still felt burdened. Just as I was getting up to leave, a hand grabbed my shoulder. "Bean! We were looking all over for you!" Yelled my 5’ 2” tall roommate.  Pickles, as we all called her, was a brave and sturdy blonde from an Polish heritage out of Pittsburgh. She had crystal blue eyes and a contagious laugh.  She was, in short, the only person I trusted at that time in my life.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, mothering as she emphasized the word ‘do’ emphatically.  “Do what?” I casually asked, pretending not to understand her question.  I had a habit of leaving bars, social gatherings, parties alone, and wander off, to cry.  It was sort of the way I was.  Damaged.  Sad.  Wounded to the core.  I was not sure how else to behave.
All these young kids that attended our university came from all over the country; some even from  Europe, Asia or Latin America on student exchanges.  All over campus you could see dark skinned boys with thick dark hair and glasses just as thick.  Or thin, exotic Asian girls laughing boisterously.  There were the jocks, the ‘sciency’ nerds, the fraternity guys and sorority girls.  They all seemed to have a plan.  They all seemed to know what they were doing here.  They all seemed to fit in.  But I was different.  I didn’t have a plan, nor did I know what I was doing here.  And certainly, I didn’t fit in anywhere.
I was my mother’s daughter and she was my grandmother's daughter.  My grandmother was an orphan. My mother was a child of neglect.  Unwanted.  Unloved.  Given away.  Shuffled away.  I was abandoned.  Left to figure out life without the guidance of  a mother's love. An heirloom handed down to each of us as young woman.  A badge to wear that marked us as such.  But we had nothing to do with it’s presentation.  We didn’t necessarily want it.  We didn’t know what to do with it.  But it was ours nonetheless.

A skirt's chaotic revelation of reality

I guess Christian Bale is quoted as saying that he learned that there's a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly.  He rationalized, that, if you are okay with that, then there isn’t much else that can bother you.  I agree.

The other day, I was headed to church, as usual, on my bike, in a skirt.  It is normal for me to ride to church all dressed up but abnormal to “do it” under general population’s definition of “going to church”.  Yet I do, each week, arriving in some kind of fashionable arrangement of dress, heels and bicycle that for me, makes absolute sense, since parking is an issue and I like the health benefits of riding a bicycle whenever I can.  But to others, I know, it seems odd.  And, well, last week, I had one of those moments that verifies the “other’s” perspective.

Here I was, innocently riding along to church in my skit; long, red, new, pretty.  I am usually able to stuff the length up underneath my seat to sufficiently arrive at church unscathed.  But this day, for some reason, the skirt, unknowingly to me, fell and suddenly I was stopped short, abruptly with basically 2/3 of my skirt now devoured within the rear brakes and wheel of my bicycle.

First, I looked around me to make sure no one had seen the “incident”.  Then, I tried to loosen the skirt from the unwavering grasps of the brakes.  No luck.  My skirt began to tear.  So, I slowly peeled my leg off of the bike, onto the street, so that I am now facing the bike, two feet on one side, skirt tightly and securely fastened within the rear brakes and wheel.

I bend over and release the “quick-release” (Oh Thank God for Quick Release Wheels!!!) and remove the rear wheel, thereby relieving the pressure on my ass and the skirt.  It was free from the rear brakes, but not from grease stains and small tears; essentially ruined.    And what was I gonna do?  Go to church as such?

The thing is, I am not so afraid to admit defeat in such matters.  Shit happens.  And, in fact, when one is pushing the bounds of society’s accepted norms of behavior, so be it!  Allow the chaos to ensue!!  And I will graciously deal with it.  Actually, I almost say, bring it on!!

But it brings about a thought about chaos in general.  I simply do not accept it in my life.  I retreat, retaliate, relinquish, and seek to relieve myself in every instance where chaos appears from outside sources.  Yet, when it comes from a pure and honest circumstance of my being me, I fully accept it.  Does that mean I am selfish?  Does it mean I am weak?

Henry Miller said that chaos is the score upon which reality is written.  And I love that so much because we all talk about what’s REAL for ourselves but, in my humble opinion, there really is only one TRUTH.  And in light of laws and love in this Universe, we are but mere specs upon the windshield, snowflakes in the blizzard, drops of water in the ocean…. Give chaos a name and place in your life and sure, it becomes alive, big, and dominate.  Believe that it is simply a part of the greater whole, then you minimize your damage.  You remain in stillness.  You go with the flow.  You are, in short, as Christian Bale said, in bliss, because you don’t really know anything else.

Wine from Orange Juice??

One day, after meditating, I was struck by a certain “truth” that seem inescapable:  Ego’s health makes or breaks my opinion of myself.  Further, my opinion of myself is either something I know intuitively about myself (healthy view) or is influenced by outside sources (imbalanced view). After conducting a bit of research online and in various texts, I have come to believe that one’s sense of self lies on a continuum, where healthy self-respect and inner self knowing can slowly erode toward self-insecurity and  vulnerability, eventually, if left unchecked will evolve into a self-absorbed, abusive condition that is fully suspicious of, yet dependent upon others and outside influences.

I've had a few recent experiences in which I  was witness to this phenomenon.

Wayne Dyer explains it this way: You can only give others what you have inside of yourself.  Therefore, to give love away to others, you must cultivate love for yourself FIRST. Dyer uses the metaphor of  squeezing an orange – asking you what comes out when you squeeze it. Most people answer, “orange juice” comes out. Why? Because that is what is inside. When humans are squeezed, what comes out of them is what they harbor inside of themselves. Harbor love, acceptance, joy, confidence, peace and harmony towards yourself so that you can radiate it towards others. You can only extend to another that which you are in truth.

And then, while in mediation, I realized the truth about light.  The speed of light, actually.  In physics, the speed of light is expressed as c  and is valued at 299,792,458 meters per second, precisely.  It is, essentially, the fasted element known to humans and is considered instantaneous.  Matter slows down the speed of light.

And in Neil Donald Walsh’s children’s book, Little Soul, he explains that light is all that we are.  Ok; bear with me now.  This is a spiritual concept.  But I think it has some merit.  I recently saw a documentary where a very hot and sexy English guy was traveling the US to find out what made us American and he was talking about religion and he said basically that if you think about it, cultures were formed separated from one another, with vast distances between each other.  They developed on their own, in their own way, but remarkably they all have similar tenets and basic fundamental ideologies.  So, we must have come from one thing… but distance made us think we were different or separate.

In Little Soul, one soul wants to practice forgiveness and another friendly soul steps forward to come into their next life to do “something” that would require forgiveness.  The friendly soul explains that in order to do this “not so nice thing” it would have to become dense and dark and slow down it’s light energy in order to perform such a heinous task.  Hmmmm…. Light, dense, darkness….

I think that everyone on this planet was given a ’friendly angel’ to come into their life and help them learn a lesson.  Maybe a few.

I know that mine has been one of jealous and fear of losing something dear to me.  Until I realize, on a very spiritual level that there is only one thing and that thing is me, and that thing is this idea of “God” acting through me, I won’t really be free from the constraints of humanity.  And this is ok with me, for the most part.  Because, right here and now, as a human, I get to be a mother of a wonderful child.  I am friends with amazing people.  I have the most spectacular family members.  I have been blessed with great love.  I have traveled and I have been challenged.  As an angel, what is there for me but chess while you await your next assignment?  Haaha

I have had a lot of people make me the butt of their jokes, use me to prop themselves up, walk over me, violate me for their own satisfaction, treat me as though I did not matter… but in the end, they could not take away from me what I truly know as my very own spiritual truth: I am that I AM.   Dude!  I am here!  Nothing can change that fact.  And while I am here, I might as well seek to find a way to enjoy it as much as possible.

Shallow relationships mean nothing to me.  Material possessions?  HA!  Status?  I don‘t think so.    But talk to me, look me in the eye, tell me your biggest fears and share with me what you believe to be the truth of who you are and now we are talking.  I seek not your approval but your soul.  It’s like the orange… I am not squeezing you hoping to get wine.  (although I do like red wine a lot) I am squeezing you to find out what you are made of.  I am interested in what comes out of you.  Not what you want to take from me.  Jealousy no longer has a power over me because I realize that there is nothing anyone can take from me that I am not willing to part with, and quite simply, there really isn’t much to me, expect light.  I dare you try and steal that.

One Night Only

This may be an X-rated post.  I would feel morally responsible for damaging the vision of any  Cinderella-esque fantasies.

In my whole life I have had a few of the so-called fairy-book romances.  Not one ever worked out just as I had always dreamed.  I often wonder what that must feel like for the ones for whom it “had been fulfilled“. Does that relationship exist?  God bless them if so.  I know that  I have had a long, strange trip, as the Dead would say.  And all the better for it.

If I could sit down with a young woman today and share with her the trials and triumphs of love, I’d likely share the following series of lessons.  Much more.  But here’s a start.

Lesson #1: Ford Tempos.  Intercourse in the front seat of a Ford Tempo (or any car)  is uncomfortable under any circumstances.  In the case the antagonist tries to assert himself, affirm your boundaries and request that he relocate to a more appropriate venue, like a coffee shop, where you can discuss, freely, under florescent lights, the reasons why sex is not an immediate need.  In this light, things become much clearer.

Lesson #2: Intoxication.  Young men under the influence tend to not make the best decisions when it comes to carnal relations.  It is best to regard their advances with general benevolence, but it is best to affirm a virtuous boundary that without the long-term promise there is no penetration.

Lesson #3: Crushes.  The guy that you’ve had the crush on for two years and finally decides to acknowledge you means less about him discovering you and more about him running out of prospects.  Hold tight to your lessons 1 & 2.

Lesson #4: Big Brother’s Best Friend.  Don’t ever, under any circumstances date your big brother’s best friend.  Even if he approves,  he will always butt-in and try to manipulate the outcomes.  It’s best to remain the “one who got away”.

Lesson #5: Traveling.  When traveling in foreign countries remember that foreign men prey upon foreign women.  When they say things like, “you are the most beautiful” or that “they have never felt this way” it’s really simply a cultural difference that we, in America, have yet to experience because most men have never really explored feelings beyond the penis.

Lesson 5 a: While in France, remember that they drink A LOT.  Their forward advances are nothing more than an indication of their intoxication; not about your beauty.  Look around you!   You are not all that amazing when compared to the millions of women around the world.  We are all beautiful.  

Lesson 5 b: When in Croatia, remember that, due to the economic conditions,  the many expatiates seems to think they can own, redistribute and confiscate all and any foreign properties at will.
Lesson 5 c: When in Austria, remember that studious hostel workers are really as sincere as they look.  Please do not damage their innocence.  Go to the cafe until the urge passes you.
Lesson 5 d: In Slovenia, all young men are generally interested in learning more about the language, but they are also interested in practicing sexual exploration at all costs.  Again, cafes are great places to explore your emotions.  I think that is why European cafes are always bustling.
Lesson 5 e: Argentinean men prefer the made-up, sophisticated, alluring women.  A lot of independent, strong American women do not succumb to their standard.  But if you were to express yourself successfully and then they want to marry you, be careful.  Mammitis may displays her ugly head. And she can be a challenge.

Lesson #6: Final Lessons.  As you age, learn to focus more on yourself and less on what you think “he” or “she” wants from you.  YOU are the only person in your life.  Even as a devoted mother I can say this.  As painful as it is to admit, my son’s life is HIS life, not something I have any control over.  All I can do is allow life to unfold as it may and trust that it was always be a blessing.  Curses only happen to shift us from the unreal to the real.

All the loves of my life have done nothing more than give me a better insight into my own light.  And without those loves, I’d not have discovered the beauty of my light.  And they do not create my light; it’s mine.  Yet, it is so often how we associated that feeling of love with the creation of light.  Yet, it’s always only our light that ever shines.  Even the love I feel between me and my son.  Our lights are our own lights; even as much as I wanted to control it and be the source of his light, I know that his light shines with or without me.  He is a beacon of his own volition.  How scary and yet how beautiful that is.

What lessons would I share with him?

“Your soul once sat on an easel on my knee.
For ages I have been sketching you
With myriad shapes of sounds and light;

Now awake, dear pilgrim,
With your thousand swaying arms
That need to caress the sky.”

~~Hafiz

All I can say for myself now is that I have had the privilege of love and the opportunity to test my theories.  I am grateful to all the past loves to have allowed me to come into their lives and experience the exhilarating ecstasy of love at its purest form.  And most of all, I am so grateful for the opportunity to love this child, Ziggy Finn Santos for all that he is now and know that all he is to become.

I will never forget the one night in which he came to me.  Long, laborious, painful and beautiful night of confusion and trust.  And then he appeared, so peaceful and beautiful.  He is the LOVE OF MY LIFE and likely will always be such.  One night; how it changes your life.