Joy found in everyday ‘Common’ Ground

Part III in totem series (Hawk, tiger & sparrow) Continue reading

Hawk, tiger & sparrow send wake-up call

Part I in the Totem Series Continue reading

Meditation time is right in this moment

Continue reading

Meditation time is right in this moment

Continue reading

‘Letting go’ provides a better ‘vision’ in life

Psychedelic green bursts of light pulse across my eye. It’s like a strobe light flashing over and over, as I “see” a colorful cascade of a lime green pigment appear before me as if it’s penetrating the eyeball itself.

It is! And, it’s called a “laser” procedure that a doctor from Presbyterian Hospital, a division of the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, Philadelphia, PA (USA), is performing on my left eye. Flash after flash of the laser erupts across the eye in lightening-like shapes. Are those the veins of the eye this magical light is brightening as it strikes?

He “lasers” through one hundred and twenty-four “spots” on two different sections of the eye, where they discovered I had a detached retina. I thought I scratched the eye with a contact lens, but was wrong. (See: lens hazard)  And there I was yesterday, getting emergency treatment from VA (Veterans Administration) Hospital workers who, I believe, provide the best services in the world to needy veterans.

Okay to Surrender Yourself to Medical Treatments

I sit passively, leaning back with my head comforted by the head-rest of the chair behind me. Strange. But I am at peace. Another doctor — was it the third, fourth or fifth person I spoke to? — had coated the eye with some “numbing” liquid. It spread over the eye and apparently into whatever cavity leading to the nasal section. My breathing is clearer. So are my thoughts.

Rather, the “lack of thoughts, as I have totally “surrendered” to these physicians, placing the outcome not only in their hands, but those of the Fates, as my ancient Greek ancestors called that Force in the Universe. “Whatever will be, will be,” Doris Day sings in my ear. It’s easy to accept something when you have absolutely no control over that something.

I pondered this as I drove earlier from one hospital to another, wondering if I would lose sight in my eye after seeing an eye doctor at Coatesville (PA) Medical Center. He called Philadelphia to set up this emergency “drill.” What’s the worst scenario, Michael? You’ll be blind in one eye, and won’t be able to see out of the other, unless you wear a contact lens. Otherwise, the world will be a blur, an unfocused, hazy collection of unfeeling objects. Kinda like some people I know who go through life never seeking help or understanding from one another.

Calculating Risks You Take for Improvement

Ok, let’s say I “lost” the eye, I thought. That’ll cut back by 50 percent the amount of money I’d need for contacts lenses. Just buy for one, not two eyes. Won’t have to worry about scratching the glass lens on the left side of my spectacles. Couldn’t see through it anyway.  And, it’s not as if I would actually be “losing” the eye, replacing a natural one with an artificial one, I find myself telling a nice and kind female hospital attendant.

You could still see both of my pretty brown eyes as I smiled your way, I added. I could blink, and the eye would respond. I’d be able to look in your direction and you’d see me looking back at you with both of my happy-to-see-you “peepers.”

Don’t forget the eye patch. A cool, black patch stretched over the eye, as I would stare you down with that sinister and menacing look of the pirate, the swashbuckler, the Omar Sharif-type character that is suave and debonair. What a new look! Might lead people to believe my 100 percent disability rating with the VA was due to the loss of the eye while in combat, and not my hearing loss and/or the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) “gain.”

Can Eye Drops Help You Reach a Higher State?

The drops placed on my eye immediately preceding the laser incisions seemed to spread over my whole being, bringing a calm I generally only experience while in “deep” meditation. “Doctor Will,” I address the surgeon, Daniel Will, by name. “Do the eye drops make a person feel like they’ve reached Nirvana?”

That’s a new one,” he responds with a laugh. He mentions something about “bottling” it if the stuff really caused such an effect. I “feel” him smile at my remark. And I smile. I now know that no drug is causing me to face this medical “operation” with such an evenly peaceful acceptance on my part.

Must be the advice someone suggested I follow, and that is, to apply the self-administrated procedure of “letting go,” day after day.

     It will help to improve anyone’s vision.

Continue reading

How you can smile in the face of Death

Continue reading

Second Opinions Sought for My Salvation

Continue reading

Warmth flows to side where heart’s needed

Continue reading

Dalai Lama Fulfills My Holiday Wish List

Please See original Story My Xmas Wish List to the Dalai Lama Continue reading

A Flower Blooms then Rests in the Buddha

Continue reading

On road to Peace, I found some “Bhuddies”

For the first time in my life I attended a Buddhist gathering knowing that I wanted to learn more about meditation and the teachings about compassion and loving kindness.

I entered the room and was instructed to remove my shoes which were placed in a small hallway. I then walked into the center with my hands closed in a prayer and my eyes wide open for whatever I could behold.

Then, I fell to my knees, slowly crawled along a mat, and “scrunched” my bottom onto a firm, six-inch pillow. Tucked my legs beneath my raised body and closed my eyes, ready for this Service.

They started chanting. About 25 other souls who appeared here after braving a rainy Sunday morning, were speaking a foreign language in this, the Chenrezig Tibetan Buddhist Center of Philadelphia. An Asian man wearing a brown “monk’s” robe led the Prayer Service. He sat in the Lotus position on a platform some 10-to-12 inches above a white painted wooded floor. He smiled often. And spoke the Tibetan language as well as English, someone told me later.

About  ten people sat in chairs, possibly to prevent any stress to bad backs. The rest of us sat  on the comfortable pillows that rested above red, padded mats measuring some 2-by-3 feet. Candles were lighted toward the front of the center. There was a slight smell of incense; I was told that someone had lit, but then extinguished a stick,  because another suffered from allergy to the scent.

Each of us were provided a red-covered “prayer” book, containing some 50 pages of various prayers and chants in both English and possibly Sanskrit and/or Tibet. Pictures of Buddhist deities as well as one of the Dalai Llama headed some pages. A larger picture of the Dalai Llama rested in what I called a “guru-like” posture  behind the Philadelphian spiritual guide.

Somebody mentioned how fortunate “we” were because the spiritual leader, Losang Samten, planned to perform a “tea ceremony.” Great, I thought. I heard of this in my earlier practice with mindfulness meditation the past year, but never witnessed or took part in one. Fellow practitioners were “once-a-week meditators” and seemed to simply “tolerate” the Dharma presentations  our Zen teacher mixed in with “body scans,” “sitting” sessions, and the occasional “walking meditations.”

How did I — a red-blooded U.S. veteran, one awarded a bronze star for fighting for flag, mom’s apple pie and everything American — end up bowing to a bunch of Buddhists? What beckoned me  to mingle with fellow Philadelphians who not only helped support a spiritual leader to guide them toward “Enlightenment,” but to teach of a  spiritual movement created twenty-five hundred years ago by a prince who exchanged riches for the life of a beggar in trying to end mankind’s suffering?

Synchronicity. Stuff like this happens, according to the psychologist, Dr. Carl Jung. And, coincidence has nothing to do with it. I planned to have lunch at a “Spaghetti Warehouse” with my first and only gathering of a “Meet Up” Group up the street from the Buddhist center. We were to “tour” or simply “attend” the Buddhist service and then discuss the activity over food and possibly a drink.

I never made it for spaghetti. Never got a chance to formally introduce myself to the “Meet Up” people. I simply stayed for the Buddhist semi-annual meeting with the permission of one of the group’s officers who allowed me, a non-member, First Generation Greek-American, to see the “behind-the-scenes” goings-on of full-fledged Buddhist followers.

I quickly learned they were no more different from you and I.

Please see Part II, –Meditation lets my energy flow

Love’s ‘First Kiss’ Lasts . . . For Ever More

Continue reading

Jew, Christian and Muslim Sheik Agree

      A small miracle is happening right before our eyes if we only open our hearts to see.

    A minister, a rabbi and a Muslim sheik put their differences on the line and walked away clearing an unobstructed path to God.

      They met together and spoke of the greatest aspects of their respective faiths, as well as what they believed were the most divisive.

      What they most valued as the core teachings of their tradition:

  • the ministerunconditional love.”

  • the sheikcompassion.”

  • the rabbioneness.”

      What they regarded as the “untruths” in their own faith:

  • the minister: “Christianity is the only Way to God.”

  • the rabbi: the notion of Jews as “the Chosen People.”

  • the sheik: the “sword verses” in the Koran, like “Kill the Unbeliever.”

      Now, I’m simply using my poetic license here. About that Unobstructed Path to God,” that is. But read this story submitted by Dustin.

     It is from a newspaper article of the “three amigos” who may, one can only hope, help to unite all again. (See if you don’t agree!)

(Press here for the great story of friendship)

Continue reading

Finally, Light Shines on My Mutiny Quash

I lied to my platoon to prevent a mutiny from bursting to a head some 40 years ago.

Today, I granted myself forgiveness. I cleansed a wound that never seemed to heal until now.

I served as a First Lieutenant in Vietnam and was relieved of my command of an infantry platoon just two hours before getting orders to appear at a helicopter base port. Taken by surprise, I met the battalion commander, who asked me to help avoid a military “disaster” from developing any further. My platoon of some 25 soldiers, grunts, as we liked being called, had refused to board the ships that would fly them into the “field” to patrol and engage the enemy. Most of the men sat on the heliport, reclining on their backpacks, disobeying all orders to climb aboard.

A day earlier, several members of the second squad were medivaced to a hospital after being ambushed by the Viet Cong. I had assigned a sergeant with some 10 years of experience to lead the squad. Unfortunately, he was “new in-country” and may not have had time to become acclimatized to the situation. In other words, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do in a war zone yet.

Our superior officer blamed me, the man in charge, and for the second time in my young military career, I found myself removed from my command. I was devastated the first time, and I view that period as the lowest moment of my life. I felt lower than dirt and less useful than the ground below. At least dirt could be used to grow things and offer a structure to build on, I believed then.

This time, however, my being sacked hurt far less. I knew I had done everything to ensure the well-being of my platoon, and instill in each member an esprit de corps that carried over into their individual lives. They learned to live for each other, to work as a unit, to place the needs of the platoon over their own.

It came as no shock when I heard they refused to go to the field! It was a mutiny, pure and simple. They protested what they believed was an outrageous act committed against them: the removal of their leader, Lieutenant Michael J Contos, yours truly.

(See Part 2 My Mutiny Quash)

Thanks for a Path that Preserved my Life

Continue reading

PTSD alert: don’t squander away your life

Teutonic Plate shifted inside of me.

     I felt someone had thrown water at my face, had “hit me upside my head” and looked me dead in the eye demanding my fullest attention. Have I been squandering away my life?

Wasting my life?

     Why even ask this question now, when my most productive years, the salary-producing ones, have ended as I have “gone on disability” and live from the benefits provided by the Veterans Administration and not from my labor?

     This question shook me to the marrow of my bones a few days ago. I was attending a workshop for veterans and their families facing PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) when I felt a Greek Chorus address me with its multiple groupings of male and female voices, advising me not to squander away my life.

     Later, I asked myself what it actually means, this “squandering” business.

What’s there to Really Squander Away in Life — Life Itself

     And does anyone intentionally set out to squander a life away? Squander. Most people only use the word sparingly, and usually when money is the focus of the inquiry. We all have heard examples in our lives:  “He’s going to squander away his inheritance,” or “she squandered away all the money raised for little Jimmy’s operation,” and one of my favorites espoused by today’s pundits, ” George W. Bush squandered away all the Good Will America generated right after 9 – 11.”

     “Squander” hardly ever appears alone. I normally see it used with the word, “away,” as in the loss of some unique skill. “We had so much hope in his potential, but he seemed to have ‘squandered away‘ his (fill in the blanks)   .  .  .”Natural Ability”   .    .    . “Writing Talent”   .   .   .   “Singing Career,” etc.”)

     But I’m not talking about forfeiting some achievement, great wealth, or some future thing.

     I’m talking about Life.

     How does one squander that away?

(See Part II, Squander)

   

Tibetan Book Winds its Way Thru My Life

     I got a chill when I saw the word “Tibet” today because it took me back to the late 1960s when I was a newly minted second lieutenant trying to make his way in the US Army. The words that impressed me then, however, had nothing to do with the military. It had everything to do with life. Nearly 40 years later, I see that the “Tibetan Book of the Dead” called out to me, though I may not have known it then. Continue reading

Meditative dining offers food for thought

Continue reading