Walked a Labyrinth and stepped into Vietnam last night.
Trouble is . . . I liked it. Did not want to leave the maze despite what lay ahead. Strangely, I felt “safe” there. Secure in my “skills.” Didn’t want to come home. Just like years earlier.
An eerie silence greeted me as I opened my bathroom door, stepped inside, and looked at the window facing the yard. I had just woken up. This, the first morning without a rooster in my daily life.
Never thought “revenge“ had anything good to say about itself. It’s a negative trait. Falls in with Anger, Rage and “getting even.”
The one you see, hear and experience daily. And another one, where you pass through a veil that causes Amnesia once you step all the way through. You no longer have a past. You have no concern for the future, since you’ve accepted the fact that all you really need in this “New” world will be provided.
Let me give all of my Blog post readers a hint at what my next Spiritual Journey will Involve:
Continue readingYou opened my heart to something I closed years ago.
Not ready to look inside. Almost, but not just yet.
Your words touched me with a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time. They caressed me, and I liken it to a mother’s love and pride I couldn’t handle at the family reunion last Saturday.
I “Come Alive” inside, as my body comes to a complete rest and I let the mind follow suit. Sound boring? It’s anything but! And it’s been one of the toughest things I’ve ever attempted.
Couldn’t do it some 30 years ago when I tried to “halt” my active state of mind. Thought I “got through” and tamed the busy monkey once or twice, but it was wishful thinking on my part.
Bizarre! Is this just a Curse?
Or a Wish for Good Fortune?
Not sure where this came from. Was meditating on the subject of “stillness,” and tracing my awareness of the world around and inside, when these words “arose.”
Laughing so hard, the five of us had to hush up, quiet down to prevent diners at the other restaurant tables from staring at our ruckus.
What caused all the belly laughs and guffaws? God. Well, let’s say the Spirit of God. How about something ‘Spiritual, but not Religious?’ Would you believe “Mystical?”
I never felt more like Don Quixote than when I represented a woman charged with a crime.
And while I didn’t want it, I’d feel called to “champion” her, even when it cost me my reputation, my sanity and my very career as a trial attorney.  Continue reading
Vivienne, you asked what I liked about the book “To Mister God, this is Anna.” All of the following are the direct quotes of the author Fryn, also known as Sydney Hopkins:
“Mister God wants you to be ‘I Am,’ like he is.”
“This is the curious nature of Mister God: that even while he is at the center of all things, he waits outside us and knocks to come in. It is we who open the door; Mister God doesn’t break it down and come in; no, he knocks and waits. Continue reading
Wasn’t sure a Gospel Song would fit in with Highly Sensitive Persons (HSPs) at a music appreciation meet last week.
Still can’t understand why I chose Bobby Darin, the “Splish Splash” originator, to represent my musical taste. We were encouraged by the hosts, a young couple, to bring music that meant a lot to us, perhaps meditative offerings and/or those pieces that represented a special time in our lives.
Those are the words Jesus said on reappearing in public in 2012.
The Kingdom of God is Within, He added.
But each of us must seek it ourselves through ourselves.”
When I first saw the term, I thought of Zorba the Greek, played by Anthony Quinn, who embraced the fullness of life through robust emotions and actions. To laugh in the face of hardship and spit in the face of death, enjoying that special moment of life as if it was the last, and to hell with what anyone thinks.
To hell with negative thoughts. Live Life with the smile God meant us to project outwardly as well as within.
I found the Meaning of Life while meditating with a group at the Resiliency Center in Ambler, PA this morning.
Felt like I was in a cave, where ten of us, seven women and three men, sat cross-legged before a fire. We had just “offered” prayers to a Spirit — a Being — high above us, and I was about to leave the security of the clan when I spoke aloud, breaking the silence.
Watched from within. Saw “me” facilitating and acting on all the senses. “I“ nudged away a thought, then focused on the feeling of breath at the top of my nasal passage. Tasted the slight chemical taint of eye drops I had placed in my left eye minutes earlier. And, I listened to the soft sounds of a budgie chirping in the distance.
Sometimes, while trying a case to a Jury of 12 people, a transformation would take place when I least expected it.
I’d begin to believe my criminal client had been truthful when he told me he was innocent and didn’t do what he was charged with by Philadelphia police.
Continue readingYour Dream just might come true. Over. . . and over . . . and over again.
Like trying a case to a jury my first day in the Major Trial Division of Philadelphia’s Common Pleas Court System.
I feel a bit of God in a good healthy sigh.
It could be that all animals do, and it helps us relax for a millisecond before exhaling. The longer I exhale, the longer I feel the Presence.
I’d give anything to taste the flavor of a that drink again.
Not the ones from a bottle. A soda fountain drink! Nothing compares to the delicious mixture of “realchocolate” and cherry syrups combined with that seltzer-like substance that produced a drink that could have originated only in Paradise.
Continue readingI always looked up to Al Brown. I met him when I was only eight-and-a-half years old in the 1950s. Nowadays, I guess you would call him a “community organizer,” someone in the neighborhood a person could turn to with questions about the block, the new and older people who lived on your street. Like that section of Brewerytown where I grew up in North Philadelphia.
An African American woman showed me how to take on the suffering of the world during a five-day retreat on perfecting perpetual peace in my soul.
Continue reading
The moment of truth came down to one question: “Who else was with you?”
I looked to the floor and didn’t answer until the head of a juvenile aid panel from Philadelphia Family Court asked me to speak up.
I never took my eyes off the gun. The man’s hand shook. I was afraid it would go off. Raising my own hands, I prayed that he would not shoot, and said “I’m coming out,” slowly climbing out of the window, placing one foot on the ground and then the other as I exited the ACME supermarket warehouse building two blocks from my home. Continue reading
I had not reached 7, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was attending a birthday party for a friend of my brother, John, who is two years older than me. Her name was Carolyn, and the love I felt came from her sister, Regina Gross, who the older kids enjoyed “fixing up” with me, her school classmate.
A friend dreamed she could not swim well in water and had to return to the shore or face peril. It seems the dream reflected her real life. (See “To Be Me.”) She said she was not a very good swimmer, and she wondered why — even in one’s dream — we impose such limitations on ourselves?
I feel a healing begin, as tears form, and I am so grateful to release what’s building inside — something so wonderful it becomes too good to contain.
I wish I were bigger. I’d have a greater capacity to handle the joy that’s flowing to all parts of my body. It’s like a liquid, this healing I feel, almost palpable like an elixir that cures each and every doubt, concern, and thought from one’s past or future.
Did not know what a Buddhist sangha could mean to me, until four of us aspiring students focused on a multi-colored insect at lunch, discussed its past and future life-aspects, and showed compassion to a sentient being whom we might have swatted away before gaining our insight on Sunday.
“Michael J,
The biggest lie you ever told was that you could say something about sexual orientation and not hurt someone whose way of life might be different from yours. You said you lied when you told an ex-girlfriend that you were gay to avoid having sex with someone you were not ready to have a long-term commitment.
One of the most humbling times in my life occurred in Court.
Philadelphia Police Sgt. Washington motioned to me that he wanted to talk. This was odd, I represented the “other side” as a public defender whose client was the defendant charged in an auto theft case. Washington was the arresting police officer whose testimony would ensure a conviction.
What’s the biggest lie you ever told?
I’m talking “whopper” now. None of the “little white lies” kinda story. But one that would qualify as a Bold-Faced LIE!
Mine was to an ex-girlfriend. Not a lie to hide, I had been with another girl. Or why I forgot an anniversary or her birthday.
I was 18 when I asked Janet to marry me, and she turned my request down flat.
We were never romantically involved, even though I’m sure a mutual love would have grown out of our teenage friendship.
Two girls fought over me once.
Well, it really wasn’t me that caused the fight. It was my dance steps.
The detective hit me across the face with a back hand, and I knew I was in trouble. Blood formed on my lower lip. I let it flow, not taking my eyes from this man who gained my immediate attention with a force he evidently knew how to use on some wise-ass kid not being straight with him.
Got dragged and nearly fell beneath a train before finally letting go of a freight car’s metal handholds. Don’t know how far my legs scraped and bumped along the wooden beams and fistfuls of rocks strewn from track to track. Don’t remember how long I lay on the ground, long after the train rolled by, thanking God for letting such a foolish boy like me continue to live.
Childhood long gone, I’d dream about the “monkey swing” at Smith’s Playground whenever I wanted to achieve something worthwhile in my life. I’d see myself climb from one achievement to another, always going forward as I stretched out an arm to grab one metal ring and then the next one on down the line.
Sundance sneezed five times. Shouldn’t have surprised me. I “felt” I was helping her as she lay across my legs, jettisoning hundreds of microscopic objects onto my leg and arm where her small furry head had just rested.  Continue reading
Drove full of gusto to complete a task before visiting a doctor in the early afternoon. Only to realize by the time I turned onto the major road, I forgot where I was going.
And worse, why!
Mister JR Johnson fired me when he caught me “entertaining” friends at his place of business.
He waited until the end of the shift on Friday and told me my days (actually, nights) as a stripper were over. I tried to explain, apologize for my actions, but that evening it was to no avail.
It hung over me that weekend. But did little to dim one of the brightest moments of my life.
The “kid” still got it. Swam 36 laps this afternoon, the first time I’ve exercised in four months.
What? It’s been four months since I been to LA Fitness. Four months since I hit the Olympic-size pool, take in the whirlpool, as well as spend time in the sauna? Actually, spent more than 15 minutes in the sauna to get rid of all the “toxins” people tell me I need to get out of my system.
The only thing that seemed to help Mary was the tears.
The act of crying seemed to “loosen up” and cushion the fear and anxiety that would strike her unexpectantly. Every time she’d hear a siren, she’d feel her chest tighten, her palms sweat, and her heartbeat race. “Twenty minutes” she’d say and look at a watch or a clock. It will all be over in 20 minutes. The world as she knew it would all be over. Destroyed by nuclear war.
It was the soldier who gave you freedom of the press, not the reporter
It was the soldier, not the poet, who gave you freedom of expression
See. I can’t go 12 words without letting out some sort of “expleted deleted word,” even one as mild as a “damn.”
I knew something was wrong when I saw the radio operator’s face. He handed me the mike attached to the bulky radio strapped on his back. The private, new in-country, made no eye contact, and was hesitant in his actions.
I identified myself by a “call sign” and heard someone say in a code that the leader of the third platoon had just been wounded, and that I was ordered to move my first platoon to give him assistance.
“Belief in God, and
following Buddhism
is not incompatible.”
I was in the Army less than a week when the news hit me. I had my head shaven; my civilian clothes exchanged for fatigue pants and a shirt, not to mention boots and headgear, something I had never worn before in my life.
Got drafted on the Third of June, the day that Billie Jo McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge! I was 19 years old in 1968 — knew no one — and was away from my Philadelphia, PA, home for the first time.
Got a check for $9 in the mail yesterday. It was for travel expenses on a trip I took five months ago. It came to me like magic. I must have lost it in the IKEA store of Conshohocken, and it just appeared out of nowhere for my return trip.
Back to the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies. A campus in Rhinebeck, NY, where I will return today (April 21, 2010) for another retreat on PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder).
Ever meet someone who wanted to grow up “Meek?”
You know, as in “the ‘Meek‘ shall inherit the Earth?”
“Eat your Wheaties, and you too can become as Meek as Babe Ruth,” is a jingle I bet you never heard out of Madison Avenue. Or how about “The Army builds meek men one body at a time?”
John 13. Verses 3-4 says:
“So during supper, fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper and took off his outer garments.”
Ruby,
You tell me you wish that we could have an eraser in our lives to go back and “Erase Our Mistakes.”
A long red light usually gets on my nerves while sitting in traffic, but time went so quick just now. I’m exploring the World of a Mystic.
Got a quick “fix” for you. But don’t try to finger this “hit” unless you’re alone, or with someone you trust.
It is what I call a “tactile chant.” Oh, I know what you’re going to say. Here’s more New Age stuff. Another scam for the public. Spiritual babble for a get-rich scheme. But you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. About something that could enhance your Life!
Don’t want Catholicism, Protestantism, or Judaism. Don’t force me to become a Hindu, a Muslim or even a Buddha. Let me form a “Me-ism,” a spirituality that takes a lot from all the above and blends it into what I feel inside when I’m alone and away from the “Shall Nots,” the 84,000 teachings, and a belief that the “hereafter” must be better than the present.
I felt free for the first time in a long time today. Dr. Jodi Schwartz-Levy conducted a Somatic Therapy session for four practioners, and each walked away with all expectations met. And then some.
A card turned over as I accidentally moved my hand to uncover four other small cards randomly picked from a tray on the carpeted floor. Sitting in the Lotus position with a legless “cloth” chair to support my back, I leaned over to read the card.
“Risk” is all that it said. There was a tiny picture of an angel that somehow reminded me of pre-teen girls who just gave up playing with dolls and turned to thoughts of Celestial Beings. Not the Old Testament God Almighty with Fire and Brimstone, but the soft, gentle “Angels” that serve as guardians.
I wish all of our days could be filled with memories of the greatest moments of our lives. None of mine would go down in history or make it into Guinness Book of World Records.
But each is worth its weight in gold, a treasure of memories that anyone, even a prisoner serving a life-sentence behind bars, is free to recall anytime, anyplace.
Eight chicks broke out of their shells recently, as we turned the bathroom in our Conshohocken, PA, home into a temporary chicken coop.
Saw you off on your class trip, Nick, and while we parted on a bad note, I want to leave something to perhaps get the sour taste out of our mouths.
The rooster rushed me as I turned my back. I had just gotten two paperback books from the mailbox and was preparing to feed him.
He got right into my face. Literally, as I bent to ward off his assault with the only protection I held in my hands. The books.
Got three of them shining the other day. I usually wipe one every morning I shower, removing the half-used toothpaste drops, moustache trimmings and occasional pieces of hair from a head that doesn’t need to lose any more. Hair, that is.
It took me some 40 years, but I think I finally realized what John Lennon was saying in one of the last songs he wrote and sang with the Beatles.
Got inspired to write while working on my third cup of coffee. I wait the 90 minutes I’ve given to a meeting I scheduled at IKEA in Conshohocken, PA, for Highly Sensitive Persons (HSP).  Continue reading
I entered the world of the Mystic while sitting on a bench at the foot of my bed in what seems a lifetime ago. It lasted only a moment. But the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Twice. Once on my stomach, the other on my back. Got “acupunctured.” Second time for my back. First for PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). Back got punctured a dozen times in various parts of the body, starting in areas other than the back.
My “performance” complete, I drop to my chair, taking deep breaths, trying to avoid showing what the past action has cost me.
What happened? I had nothing to drink . . . no alcohol . . . no drugs.
Allison,
Hold onto to it. (That feeling of bliss that you can find only in the quiet.)
Better yet, remember it, as if your Life depends on it.
A judge destroyed the governor, while I survived an explosion before winning a civil rights case in court. This was all in a dream.
Compensation and Review Board is the name given to a panel of persons with the Veterans’ Administration that recommends whether a disability rating should be approved for a deserving veteran.
Your “Beloved,” is what you need. You yearn and long for Him, don’t you?
Always have, always will.
Some words, phrases, even entire messages look different through the lens of time. Take this feeling I expressed to a friend half-way around the world about the “yearning” I felt on reading Sufi poems for the first time. It moved me so much that I “penned” my own feelings of life-long “longing” to be with, what the Sufis call, “my Beloved” — the Higher Being that can take the shape of your Most Perfect Loved One, the Divine. Continue reading
I danced a Sufi “dervish whirling” at the Buddhist Center today.
A door to the possible mysteries of life opened slightly yesterday. My friend, Joy, introduced me to the Kabbalah.
On and off clicks the light from the sun. On and off, on and off, and so it goes. The sun winning this playful skirmish with tall objects on the Earth below. Light to dark, light to dark flashes before my eye. (Got an eye patch “over me left eye, young Mr. Hawkins,” like Long John Silvers from Treasure Island, but mine’s from a detached retina, and not from pirating!) Something is causing some effect on a part of my brain as my good pupil enlarges and decreases like a strobe light at a Heavy Metal concert with me thrown into a mosh pit.
Played “peek-a-boo” with the sun and shade this morning. On the road from Ambler to Conshohocken, PA, I engaged Old Sol in a game the Almighty must have created for mankind’s appreciation. Why else would God — who caused the sun to come into being from some huge cosmic explosion — have invented shadows? It’s all part of His Love for us humans!
I squeeze the malachite stone as if it was one of those “stress” balls used to relieve tension and exercise the forearm.
Contoveros 