Tag Archives: Christian

Death is unfrightening once Wisdom grows

by contoveros

Death doesn’t seem to scare me as much as it used to. I mean, I see it as a transition, and not an ending. In some ways, it will be a welcome “new adventure” if you think about it in spiritual terms.

No, I’m not talking about heaven and hell like the Catholic nuns and priests preached to me as a kid at St. Ludwig’s Roman Catholic Church where I served as an altar boy and wanted to be a priest until I discovered girls. I’m talking about a transition to a “way station,” a place where your spirit — or soul — ascends to meet with higher spirits or what some might call Ascended Masters.  Continue reading →

Calling all ‘Spiritual Soldiers of Fortune’

by contoveros

     I believe that I have become a “Spiritual Soldier of Fortune” and would travel anywhere my heart beckons me to learn, to pray, and to find answers about the Universe.

     I got an inkling of this calling when I was a teenager. It came about when I was 18, just out of high school, and experimenting with grass and LSD. Timothy Leary enticed me with his message in the 1960s, advising all to “turn on, tune in, and drop out.” I turned on and tuned into the message but couldn’t afford to drop out because I was from a working-class family that saw work as a way out of poverty and into the middle class.

     My first adventure away from my Catholic upbringing was when I purchased the Tibetan Book of the Dead, highly recommended by the LSD guru, and I actually read it before going off to the Vietnam War. I knew back then that a higher level of consciousness existed and each and every one of us could reach that exalted plane if we but follow the path our soul wanted us to take.

Spiritual Offerings Found Here and There 

     The next adventure I felt a “calling” toward was with a real live guru from India, a 15-year-old who preached the lifesaving and life-sustaining benefits of meditation in “Satsang’ with other devotees. Try as I might, however, I could never reach that blissful state meditators said one could reach in silence.

     I gave up the guru when meeting a “Jesus Freak” and got into Christianity with an Evangelical twist to it with my born-again second wife. I attended the Episcopal Church with her and got married in a Presbyterian Church by a Methodist minister. I went to bible study sessions and long weekend retreats for Marriage Encounter and prayer fests in the hills of the Great Smoky Mountains.

———–

     But it wasn’t until things really got tough that I ventured far away from my roots and ended up visiting other countries to study Kabbalah while learning about Sufism and Buddhism. I opened myself to aromatherapy, crystal healing, as well as Reiki. (I’m a level one Reiki practitioner.)

     I once attended a Voodoo Ceremony with three women from Haiti who allowed themselves to be occupied by six spirits in a New Year’s Eve Ritual. I made friends and obtained (but have not yet read) books on Wiccan. And I figure I would pretty much explore any spiritual path as long as it didn’t involve a form of devil-worshipping. (Following the beliefs of the Republican Party doesn’t count!)

Being Raised to a Higher Calling than Ourselves

     What I’m saying is that these practices have one thing in common. They all seek to raise us from our ego-based self toward our higher self, the self that is in tune with the Universe and whatever definition you want to apply to the Divine. Call the entity God, the Force, or Unconditional Love. Each practice can elevate you to a higher level of consciousness, a level where we actually do feel one with everyone and everything in our Universe.

     Not only have I learned a great deal on my journeys, but I have had a helluva lot of fun. I don’t believe that laughter, smiles, and a bunch of giggles were banned by any of the Greek gods worshiped by my ancient ancestors. As Zorba the Greek once philosophized, “A man needs a little bit of madness to cut the rope and be free.” You gotta be a little mad to truly enjoy and live life.

     My new adventures are calling me to such “new” areas as the “Law of Attraction,” the Kabbalah as taught by Jews and Christians alike, and psychologists who practice forms of past life regressions. I learn something new nearly every day, and every day seems to be a little sweeter with the newly discovered awareness. I still face dark moments. Suffering, sickness, and old age are all around me. But I view them all a little differently now.

  You Can Do That.

     Take a chance by starting a new journey. Try something even if you think people will think you are foolish. Expand your horizons by challenging your old, preconceived notions. And let go of that old-time dogma that keeps you trapped in the past.

     Be a Spiritual Soldier of Fortune right now.

Gifts from within that we all might share

by contoveros

     Spiritual Gifts are Available Right Now

Ever wonder what you can do to be more like the person you have always aspired to be? You know, the one you hoped you would grow up to be, but didn’t get the chance because life seemed to hit you upside your head and throw you off course? 

Well, I learned of certain gifts that we may still have and others that we can develop to be the person — the “Higher Person” — that we visualized at one time. That person still resides deep inside of us. He or she lives in our spiritual center, our soul, or the spark of divine love instilled in us at birth.

We all have spiritual gifts to provide. These are gifts not just for saints or bodhisattvas. Nor do they exist just for priests, rabbis or imams. There for the laity of religious groups, those like you and me who want to evolve in two ways: one, to “be good” and secondly to “do good.”

Here is a partial list provided to me by a fellow from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Chestnut Hill, Pa., where the rector dabbles in mysticism and other experiences. He helped to create the Center for Contemporary Mysticism:

Gifts of Being 

Friend       Companion       Partner       Gracious Receiver       Self-Giving

Respectful       Team Worker       Centered       Prayerful       Reflective

Tranquil       Serene       Trustworthy     Faithful       Trusting       Courteous

Polite       Accepting       Loving       Understanding       Compassionate

Responsible       Dependable       Generous       Artistic       Competent

Hardworking       Efficient       Honest       Independent       Action-Oriented

Intense       Committed       Initiator       Risk-Taker       Innovator

Self-Developer       Helper       Kind       Affectionate       Festive

Happy       Cheerful       Optimistic       Spontaneous       Outgoing

Gifts of Doing

Design       Facilitate       Create       Conceptualize       Analyze       Diagnose

Critique       Interpret       Construct       Build       Repair       Maintain       Caretaker

Precision Worker       Operate       Use Tool       Teach     Learn       Seek     Heal

Communicate       Talk       Write       Persuade       Sell       Perform       Demonstrate

Evaluate       Inspect       Inventory       Catalog       Compile       Collect        Research

Investigate       Facilitate       Moderate       Advice       Counsel       Negotiate       Arbitrate

Reconcile       Listen       Encourage       Seek       Wait on Others       Nurture     Estimate   

Enable       Motivate       Lead       Inspire       Supervise      Coordinate       Organize

Arrange       Display       Compare       Observe       Copy       Record       Compute

     “Being” can be just as rewarding for others as “Doing” sometimes.

What gifts can you provide your neighbor, your loved one, or perhaps, even your enemy?

Look inside. You’ll find them. Now, place them at the forefront of your awareness for the benefit of all.

I’ll be One when I finally let myself ‘Let Go’

by contoveros

      Could I ever be strong enough to let the more tender side of me take over and simply “Let Go“?

    We all know how tough it can be to let go of something we’ve been accustomed to all of our lives. You feel like you’re walking off a cliff or jumping out of a plane with no parachute when you consider “letting go.” You’re facing uncertainty, the unknown, the void of a black hole that’s never been explored before. Unexplored by you, that is.

Being ‘Reborn’ Without the Ego in Control

     What if there is no God to catch you in mid-flight? Must one die before being re-born without the ego being in control? 

     Perhaps that is what letting go is all about. Letting go of the thoughts, the beliefs, and the security, all of which are nothing but illusions the mind creates to keep us under wraps. Don’t be afraid to look for an answer outside of yourself, Michael J.

     Be Your “Self.”

     You don’t even know what it is, do you? You make up labels and believe yourself to be what your senses can see, hear, feel, taste, or smell. You, the poor wretched man. Don’t you know that you’re far greater than the physical plane  you exist in? You are a Spiritual Being that can learn to fly, to live, and to love.

let-go-let-god

     You knew it as a child. You felt it a long, long time ago when you were one with the universe. You knew the Divine existed in everything and in everyone, but you forgot it as you reached the age of reason and ate fruit from the tree of knowledge and got expelled from paradise.

     By letting go, you can return to that peaceful loving place some call Nirvana. You can sneak back into those holy grounds and hide out with old friends who let their spirits rise above the world below. They’re the like-minded folks you’ve gotten back in touch with just as you saw the light.

‘Letting Go’ Will Provide the Answer

     They saw your light and beckoned you to join them.

     They let go. They fell back in love with the greatest love of their lives.

     You Can Too.

     Just close your eyes, feel that warmth, and let it wash over you, permeating every inch of your body, your soul, your true self. Let the Lower one go.

Surrender.

Submit.

Be One Again.

We all know how tough it can be

What is awakening my senses now-a-days?

by contoveros

I got hit upside the head today.

     Next, the sweet fragrance of roses mixed with just a slight tinge of oranges enticed my senses while meditating.

     This followed the experience yesterday of missing keys mysteriously reappearing as I puzzled through my new life journey of “unnatural” awareness.

     This morning, I jokingly referred to my 22-year-old son as my “stupid student” while traveling in the car, and something smacked me on the right side of my head, just slightly below the hairline. I looked up at the sun visor but knew I’d find nothing physical. I realized that some “non-ordinary” force had gently hit me ever so slightly.

     I immediately referred to myself as stupid and told a series of self-deprecating jokes, making Nicholas feel better about himself. He chimed in a few of his own, showing me how much wisdom, he actually does have.

“Letting Go” of Certain Beliefs Very Difficult

     We discussed how difficult it is to “let go” of certain beliefs, even when we find ourselves beating our heads against a brick wall, when all we had to do was be open to a less rigid belief, thus enabling us to simply walk around the wall to get to where we want to go.

     My second encounter with unseen forces was a more pleasant one. While meditating, I smelled the scent of flowers.

Nature can touch us if we open our hearts to her . . .

     It arose during a guided meditation when I was wishing that everyone could be free from danger, while obtaining happiness and good health, while living a life of ease.

    I realized that I had been smelling the scent more than a half a dozen times since the day before, and I had commented to my son about it. I hadn’t put the two things together until now.

     The “hit upside the head” and the caress of my olfactory senses occurred after a set of keys disappeared and then — like magic — reappeared some 24 hours later. No, I don’t believe it was carried out by a ghost or a poltergeist. My house is not haunted. A Presbyterian priest once blessed it, warding off any evil beings or things, and I believe that blessing still holds.

Something holy and good has deigned to touch me.

     I saw my keys vanish and then come back. I felt through the touch of my skin the slight pat on my head, and I smelled the lovely fragrance. It was the fragrance that got me thinking of holy things. You see, the Catholic Church calls it the “Odor of Sanctity,” or “Osmogenesia.”  They generally refer to the odor that emanates from the bodies of holy people or a holy person’s remains. The duration is brief or persistent; the scent is sweet or floral, such as honey-like, roses, lilies, violets, or incense, according to Sharing Catholic Truth, a spiritual website. (See: Supernatural Scents)

————–

     I thought of it after having visited the shrine of Saint Padre Pio outside of Pottstown, PA, where I once worked as a newspaper reporter. Padre Pio was reported to have exuded this “odor of sanctity” at a hotel room in Switzerland where the couple he was praying for were staying. In 1991, more than 10 years after his death, a man who underwent a quadruple bypass awoke from the anesthesia, and his right arm and leg were paralyzed.

Praying to Saint Padre Pio can be Miraculous

     He prayed to the saint, and after three fervent days of prayers, he noticed an overwhelming aroma of flowers. When the aroma faded, he felt a sensation in his right leg, and he knew at once Padre Pio had helped to answer his prayer.

     Could a benign spirit reach out and touch someone nowadays? Why not? I believe we are spiritual beings occupying a human body. Angels really do exist. I wouldn’t mind being guided by one because I’d know for sure that I was on the right path.

     And having one helluva good time while I’m at it!

Healing others starts first with healing self

by contoveros

   Words of Another can help in Your Healing

 I felt a lot of healing when I read the following quote from the feminine deity: Moor Jani:

     “We all have the capacity to heal ourselves as well as facilitate the healing of others. When we get in touch with that infinite place within us where we are Whole, then illness can’t remain in the body. And because we’re all connected, there’s no reason why one person’s state of wellness can’t touch others. Elevating them and triggering their recovery. And when we heal others, we also heal ourselves and our planet.

      There is no separation except in our own minds.”

————-

Healing is one of the topics for my newest project, a retelling of Jesus’ life as a carpenter’s apprentice at age 20 in the Land of Palestine. I wrote it in less than thirty days as part of a challenge by NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) to complete a novel during the 30 days of November. I completed it today, November 30th, 2014.

‘Dying to Be Me’ Book Explains Healing Process

The quote above is taken from a book by Anita Moorjani, from whom I just sent an e-mail telling how I used her words to explain the healing process that she described in “Dying to Be Me.” I thought it was appropriate to quote what I imagined a Hindu deity would say about healing. I named the deity Moor Jani. It is spoken by a Buddhist lama named Lobsang, who has taught the young man from Nazareth the secrets of healing through the Reiki process. (I hope to all that is holy that she’ll grant me permission to use her words)

I enjoyed writing this work of fiction.

It may take a while before I can edit it for a full viewing. I would love to send excerpts to anyone willing to offer a critique of the writing. Simply address me here at this site. Your e-mail will appear in my Gmail account, so there will be no breach of confidentiality. (You can even create a fictitious name to use, but please, do not use Donald Duck unless you’re prepared to quack about it.)

Helping Jesus as a Former Greek Slave

Here’s another taste of the manuscript. It’s from the Oracle of Delphi where Jesus and his Greek sidekick, the former slave Michael, have just gotten a prophecy delivered.

Michael stood with eyes wide open as the oracle looked him in the eyes. He blinked and had difficulty in keeping eye contact with her. She spoke two words that seemed to blend together. “Conto . . . Veros,” the young and beautiful woman continued.  “You will speak the truth. You will be called the “Singer of Truth.

Conto-Veros. The words rang in his mind as Michael felt a chill and then a warmth overtake his very being. He rolled the words around in his mouth, trying to savor the feel of them. “Con . . . to . . . Ver . . . os,” he whispered to himself, slowly pronouncing each of the four syllables. He liked the sound of it. He liked the feel of it.

But what about “writing well” or “not writing at all“? What could that mean? Only time would tell and that was not to be revealed until many years later.

Friends are there when you need them most Cropped shot of a group of friends holding hands spiritual healing stock pictures, royalty-free photos & images

“All can heal and help facilitate the healing in others.” — Moorjani

Learning a ‘Little Greek’ from Francesco

by contoveros

 Student of History Learns About Saint Francis

    What did I learn about Francis of Assisi while researching the facts about his life?

He wanted to grow up to be a crusader and fight in the Crusades which had gone on for some one hundred years when he was born in 1081 or 1082.

Francis fought in a battle between the city-state of Assisi and its neighboring town of Perugia, which sided with the nobility and wanted to continue with the feudal system.

He rode a horse into battle, and it probably saved his life because the Perugians he engaged slaughtered all the foot soldiers (infantrymen) as well as the archers. They thought Francis was a nobleman because he was on a horse.

Francis was thrown in jail, a makeshift prison made up of an old Etruscan fortification buried below the ground in Perugia. He remained in jail for nearly a year before his father learned of his whereabouts and paid a ransom to free his son.

Francis Got PTSD from Battles and Imprisonment

Francis showed all the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), a psychological wound suffered by many in combat.

Before going to war, he was known as the “king of the revelers” — a real “party animal,” but became a recluse on his return to Assisi. He was withdrawn from all social life and gave signs of deep depression.

Francis tried to “redeem” himself later by outfitting himself as a knight with armor, a sword, and a battle horse when leaving Assisi once again to do battle, but this time he offered himself to fight in one of the crusades being waged by one of the popes against the Saracens.

He never made it to the battlefield because of a vision he experienced, which directed him to return home to “serve the master” and not a “servant.”

Labeled a Coward After Following a Vision

Francis was labeled a coward and a deserter.

     He was only five feet two inches tall

Francis preached to the birds, tamed a wolf, and saved a rabbit from becoming a monk’s dinner!

———————-

     His real name was John or Giovanni, as he was baptized in Italian. Pietro, his Italian father, renamed him Francesco, which meant the “Little Frenchman.”

     Francis mother was French. She was of noble birth and lived in an area called Provence in the southern section of what is now known as France.

     Greeks from the Island of Rhodes settled the area of Provence. Rhodes is a short boat ride away from the island my father, Achilles Contoveros, was born and raised. In the year 2012, researchers conducted DNA tests on people from Provence, and the results showed there was 12 percent Greek blood in them. That would make Francis of Assisi “a little Greek,” according to this recorder of history!

     Provence is the area where legend states that Mary Magadeline, one of the closest friends of Jesus Christ, had resided there before passing on some 30 years later. The legend also notes that Martha and the man Jesus raised from the dead, Lazarus, had also ended up in Provence.

—————

Born in a Stable and Raised by a Cruel Father

     Francis was born in a stable.

His father was a rich silk merchant.

Pietro disowned Francis and beat him, once chaining him inside a closet after learning Francis had sold scraps of his father’s silks to raise money to help rebuild a church. (Francis also sold the cart and the horse that carried the silks, by the way!)

Francis refused to let money “cross the palm of his hands” following the incident with his father.

He physically rebuilt many churches, believing that was his mission from Christ when he heard the voice of Jesus while praying before a crucifix to “rebuild my church.” Little did Francis know that he was being chosen at that time to rebuild the Roman church and its relations with the poor throughout the known world.

—————-

     He received the stigmata, that is, the actual marks of the crucified Christ,  while on retreat during the Feast of Michaelmas — also known as the Feast of Michael the Archangel on September 29th, 1224, some two years before his death. The word stigmata means “branding” in Greek, and Francis kept secret the marks he received on his hands and his feet, as well as the wound on his side.

     (Inscribed by Contoveros on September 28th, the eve of St. Michael’s Feast Day, and just a week before the Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi (October 4th) in the Catholic Church.)

Ups & downs of life provide me lessons

by contoveros

     “When you’re down and feel like nothing, God is usually up to something just for you.”

     That’s a saying on a church sign outside of Philadelphia that I edited and slightly changed, and can safely say is now mine. Continue reading →

Francis of Assisi; awakening him by a novel

by contoveros

Dream of Writing a Book about to Come True

As I stand on the precipice of my literary journey, the dream of writing a book feels closer than ever. The countless hours spent brainstorming ideas, developing characters, and crafting intricate plots have finally begun to take shape. I can see the pages of my story unfolding before me, each chapter brimming with potential and passion.

This transformative experience has ignited a fire within me, motivating me to pour my emotions and experiences onto the page. Friends and family, too, have become my pillars of support, encouraging me to embrace my creativity and share my unique voice with the world. With every word I write, the reality of my dream comes into focus, and I am filled with anticipation for the moment when my book will finally be in the hands of eager readers, ready to explore the world I have created.

I am about to become an Author!

     Well, a “Published Author” that is.

     I just learned that my book about Francis of Assisi, a historic novel, will be available at Amazon sometime in the next two months, September and October (2014). Writing it was a true labor of love. I mixed in Catholicism with Sufism and lots of Buddhism. I also introduced Francis, aka Giovanni di Bernadone, his real name by the way, to the Wisdom of Kabbalah and a belief in what I call “angel therapy.”

For all my legal friends not yet indicted or spending time in jail, I threw in the Rule against Perpetuity. Don’t ask me what it means. I never quite understood it in law school, but it sounded so good, I created a way for Clare, Francis’s female sidekick and saint-in-training, to use the legal maneuvering to keep his first-person manuscript hidden from public view until a fellow discovered it in a castle of some small Greek island.

     Michael J Contos, writing under his father’s name, “Contoveros,” discovered the manuscript and brought it to the attention of the world.

You can read the excerpt from St. Clare’s preface here:

 Francis of Assisi, written in his own words

Enjoy!

     Oh yeah . . . The name of the book is “Francis of Assisi, a Novel Awakening to Lady Poverty.”

Marketing Description for Francis of Assisi

Picture of young Francesco di Bernadone
(c) peter zelei

     Though many books have been written about Saint Francis of Assisi, none have put him in such a human light as this novel. Francis of Assisi, while taking a few liberties along the way, tells the story of Saint Francis’s journey through darkness and war and into the light. Readers learn about the struggles Saint Francis must overcome, and about his trials with his father and with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

     Contoveros creates for us a Saint Francis who is entirely tangible but inspirational on a spiritual level. From the very beginning, we are fighting for the patron saint of animals and small critters. We are there to experience the vision of “Lady Poverty” alongside him, and by the novel’s end, we understand him and his vision more fully.

PTSD Arises through Battles Francis Faced

Facing death, St Francis of Assisi recalls his flight from his father’s oppression and how he dreamed of becoming a warrior only to be thrown from his horse in battle and witness a mass slaughter before being taken captive and falsely imprisoned in a dungeon. Because of this, he suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), a malady he struggles with all of his life to overcome.

Upon his release from prison, Lady Poverty appears in a vision to the young “King of the Revelers,” inspiring him to change his life and embark on a journey that leads to a spiritual awakening still sought after today.

As a Vietnam War veteran, Contoveros seems to have an innate understanding of some of the struggles Saint Francis of Assisi faced roughly eight hundred years ago. Both Contoveros and his hero suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as a result of war. Later, both sought forms of spiritual awakening.

An inactive attorney, Contoveros has a master’s degree in history. In preparation for writing A Novel Awakening to Lady Poverty, he researched the thirteenth century and read multiple accounts of Saint Francis of Assisi to piece together the character formed in this novel.

Raised in the Roman Catholic Church, but a student of Buddhism, the Sufi, and Kabbalah, Contoveros now sees spirituality in a new light. He is an admirer of Siddhartha and, like many others, a seeker of answers in this troubled world.  

The Gospel according to Micha’el the lesser

by contoveros

Continue reading →

Hoping for a lofty goal, I write a lot & often

by contoveros
(Question 2 on Hope)
You may also have experienced this kind of hope, (See https://contoveros.wordpress.com/?p=12505&preview=true) but not thought of it in those terms. Think of a time when you felt sure you were going to attain a lofty goal, even though the path to the goal was not apparent. That is the hope that comes from your being. Describe this feeling of certainty in your journal. – Deepak Chopra 21-Day Meditation Experience (Feeling Hope) I was a buck private in training as a soldier in Fort Dix, NJ, when I had a vision, or what Zen Buddhists call a “satori” or moment of clarity of what I needed to do with my life.

Hope to One Day Write a Book

I was a buck private in training as a soldier in Fort Dix, NJ, when I had a vision, or what Zen Buddhists call a “satori” or moment of clarity of what I needed to do with my life.

     I needed and wanted to write a book.

    Not just any book, but one where I was the hero. Well, hero may not be the right word. In the book, I was to be the center of attention, while everything I’d write about would involve me and things that I had some sort of contact with. I used the model of the Bible as a guide.

     I figured that the greatest book that there ever was should be the map and framework for my book. I’d be just like Christ, but not face crucifixion or circumcision. There was a driving force behind this idea. The idea stayed with me from the moment I was nineteen years old until I finished working for a living and found the leisure time to write about what I had discovered over the years.

Blogging Leads to Eventual Plans for a Book

     I didn’t know that I would write a book when I started dabbling with a Blog. I started writing on WordPress the same month that Uncle Dom had died in 2009, and I guess I haven’t stopped since then. The blog became my way of expressing what I was seeing around me and what was happening to influence me. I learned that most of what I was learning was something I already knew, but had forgotten.

     I think that much of spiritual knowledge is like that. We don’t get our “smarts” from someone or some book out there. We get it from inside, where true wisdom, love, and hope reside. It takes some of us a lifetime, however, to realize that. All we needed to do was to become as silent as Dominick, smile, and hope to visit that wise child inside who has never left us. The child becomes the guide and offers us the inspiration to set goals and to eventually achieve them.

Another Step In Writing Achieved!

     You’re reading this right now, and that goes to show you that I achieved another step toward my goal. You can do it once you identify your goal and stick to it as if your life depended on it.

     Your spiritual life will depend on it for you to follow through for your salvation.

(For the first question on hope, please see previous post with a click below left.)

Editor’s note. Michael J Contos, writing as ” Contoveros” authored two books by this date, one a novel about Francis of Assisi, his favorite community organizer, and a second one on his spiritual journey to Ithaca, NY.

NaNoWriMo done in 30 days, thank God

by contoveros

I just finished writing 73,000 words about Francesco, the young man from Assisi who overcame post-traumatic stress from battles, as well as a year-long imprisonment, before being ransomed by his rich mercantile father. Continue reading →

You’ve been Called; now Choose up Sides

by contoveros

Am I among the “Chosen?” Will I be one of those who make the “cutoff” at the end when the proverbial bill finally gets to be paid?

I don’t know. If you had asked me some five years ago, I’d tell you to hit the road, Jack. I’m not into any of that Doomsday Stuff. The so-called “Chosen People” were the Jews, right? Look what happened to them.

And don’t the Jehovah’s Witnesses folks believe that a couple of hundred thousand of them will disappear from the earth at the time of the Rapture? And what about some old-fashioned Presbyterians? Didn’t Calvin or one of their leaders claim to be among the chosen few?

I’d tell you that this is the stuff that kooks dream up for superstitious old ladies and men who have nothing better to do than face their own mortality, hoping they could miraculously get to Heaven if they just turned their lives around in the last years of their lives. They’ll believe in anything or anyone that could offer them salvation with a money-back guarantee!

Are You ‘Squandering Your Life?’

But something happened to me. I felt like I got hit upside the head with a spiritual sledgehammer from some animated cartoon. I heard a voice ask me if I was ‘squandering away my life,” and it scared the hell out of me. I looked at the world around me and saw that nothing had “staying power.” I’d have fun and get my kicks from the old standbys: wine, women, and songs.

But they held no meaning anymore. I’d drunk too much wine, my wife fell down the steps and suffered a traumatic brain injury, leaving me nothing but sad songs of days gone by to sing about. I hit bottom and found there was nothing on this planet that could inspire me to get my butt off the ground, and my head outta my butt.

I got the call. I got the spiritual call. And, more importantly, I answered that call. And, I’ve been seeking answers ever since, sharing some tidbits of crazy wisdom with people I feel might be of like mind and what I call a “what-the-hell-do-I-have-to-lose” desperation.

You Could Be One of the Spiritually Chosen

If you’ve read this far, you might be one of ‘em. The Chosen, that is. You don’t think you got to this point in your life on your own, do you? You were knocked to the ground on purpose. You were forced to “Call on a Resource” you thought had given up on your wretched personhood. You could either sink into major depression, drugs, and/or the negative lifestyle you had led, or let go.

You let go, didn’t you? Just as I had to, with no assurance that tomorrow would be any more secure or stable as today had turned out to be.

I had learned to take a step without moving my foot, as Rumi once suggested. I could only do it by completely surrendering my old self, the ego-self that controlled my life and got me on a bridge to nowhere with no guide to help navigate away from that dead-end.

Admit You Need Help in ‘Letting Go’

It was in the process of “letting go” that I discovered a path similar to the one you’re walking. We could never have reached this point without first humbling ourselves and admitting we needed help. We needed something the world couldn’t provide, and so we looked beyond this world. We’d be ridiculed, barely tolerated, and our sanity questioned as even well-intentioned family and friends would whisper about our loved one finally going off the deep end.

    Yes. I Jumped.

I removed myself from a reality that focuses only on the material, that judges you only by your successes and the riches you’ve acquired, the medals you gained, the reputation you so carefully strove to keep up. None of this meant anything anymore. I wanted the freedom to simply “BE.”

I needed the Divine in, and of, the Cosmos to become my dearest lover, my comforting parent, my faithful friend. I found all of these – this trinity of engaging partners – through a sincere and contrite prayer, and the trust that the prayer would be answered. That you and I could grow into our purpose for, and in, life by giving up our will for the Will of God; by becoming corrected as prayed for by Kabbalists; by celebrating like a laughing Buddhist monk when he realizes Karma has finally ripened for him to always act in his Buddha nature.

Your Chosen Team Just Can’t Lose

I got picked to play on a team that can’t lose. What are you waiting for? You can join me by simply leaving your “self” outside the playground. You’ve been chosen! Now, help others you know who could practice with us in this game.

Universal Love grants me the touch of love

by contoveros

   

     I wanted so much to write about your soft, careful touch on my arms and my hands. How you slide your fingers ever so meticulously over the outer parts of me, teasing a sensation to come forth, to grow from the inside out, knowing all along your touch is the Touch of Love.

     Your touch is the touch of a mother on baby’s soft back side, the comforting touch of her when the child later stumbles and cuts his or her knee, the firm touch to the face and chin directing that child’s head toward your loving eyes and stern expression, while saying, “Listen: You are good, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Your Touch is to Die For

     Now.

     Not in some future, but this very moment as I recall it in all its sweetness.

     I recall the past touch as if it just occurred and did not actually happen some  time ago.     

     It is one long present moment that I think of when I recall this touch of yours.

     It makes me want to use my appendage to humbly try to bring a small pleasure to you, my beautiful child. “My Dearest One.”

Calling Out to My Dearest One! 

     May I call you that? “Dearest!” “My Dearest.” You are so dear to me, the dearest. For you are the closest to my heart than anyone, save the Creator who brought you into my presence, into my arms, and into my very being!

     When I touch you, I want you to feel love over every inch I hope to slowly move the fingertips, praying that I too can awaken in you the softer side of love and caring.

     Trust me.

     Please believe me You can trust again. I won’t hurt you. Not in this moment.

     I will not harm you. For, I am Love. You are Love. We are love together. And in the name of all love that has ever been and ever will be you know that I am yours and you’re mine right now.

  Divine Possession Now Shared by Us

     It’s a Divine Possession we share, formed from an internal pure and clear light of understanding and wisdom. And joy, let’s not forget the bliss of joy that sets us apart from any and all other attractions by something less divine than the perpetual, primordial, infinite love of the Universe.

     It is a Divine Love that we tap into when we give all of ourselves so that the other person might live in love.

It is pure, unselfish. It is what Soul Mates are made of and from. And, it started with the first magical, mystical touch!

Sweat Lodge Reveals many Creative Spirits

by contoveros

     It took several hours for the effects of the Sweat Lodge ceremony to kick in, but when it did, I realized the control I always thought I needed was not in my hands, but in what the Greeks called the Fates; the Christians, God; and the Buddhists, Karma.

     A Divine source, referred to by some as the “Force,” the Divine Feminine, the Creator, has dealt a hand to play with our own free will. We get to choose which cards to keep and the ones to discard. By standing pat or by seeking new ones to “change our luck” or to improve our hand, we cast our lot to the future. None of us expects to lose or to face tragedy or a financial crisis. We hope for improvement, to enrich ourselves through our card-playing skills and years of studying the game of life.

     In the end, the winner is not necessarily the one who drew the highest hand – a royal straight flush versus a pair of kings and deuces. It is the player that can place the bet, and deal with the loss or win with equanimity, that emerges the victor. There is no win, there is no loss. There is just an awareness of the game and how to view it from a state of grace, the right frame of mind, the right attitude. All disappointments arise and end.

All Things Must Have a Beginning and an End

     All roller-coaster thrills must end. In understanding that everything that comes into my existence must someday leave, I can live with its impermanent nature more easily. Treat it the same whether it is good or bad, foul or fresh, holy or unholy. The moment of pleasure and the moment of dissatisfaction will pass. Each will arise and reach its crescendo of joy or sadness, and then each will fall, dissipating and returning from whence it came, leaving naught but a memory we can choose to relive or to drop if similar conditions arise to trigger its recall later.

     None of this was clear when the sweat poured out of me as 10 men and women crawled on hands and knees into the Sweat Lodge outside of Pottstown, PA. We took part in a ceremony honoring the “Great Spirit,” while offering prayers to the four corners of the earth and beyond. We sweated as the lodge leader spread bits of sage, tobacco, and other herbs onto the red-hot coals, causing an eruption of tiny flames that shot upwards and out of the stones but remained safely in a pit dug earlier to contain a total of some 15 hot, glowing rocks.

Prayers Offered for All Directions in the Lodge

     Each one had been baked in a much bigger pit built a slight distance outside of the lodge, where a stone-bearer had been heating them over a slow-burning fire for several hours. Two to four rocks were requested for each “sweat,” or prayerful focus in a given direction. We offered three prayers each for the West, the South, and the North.

     Then just as the sweat seemed to be unbearable for the likes of me, the number of prayers for the East increased to five, six, seven, eight, and beyond . . .  I lowered my head to the floor of the lodge, taking in the cooler air and praying a silent prayer that all the prayers would stop so that I could get the hell out of there!

     The prayers did stop, and we offered a blanket thanksgiving for all. I believe, however, that my silent prayer even helped to cleanse and purify me, removing and burning away the hellish traces of lower, base nature.

Did Not Favor Born-Again Christians

     Hours later, I revolted against a group of Born-Again Christians. All of them were what I called “lily whites.” The men wore handsomely tailored suits, and the women gorgeous dresses with just the right amount of jewelry. All appeared with the greatest tans that money and lots of free time at the beach could offer.

     “I don’t belong here,” I cried to my partner in crime, Melanie, a young Hispanic woman whose mother was raised in Colombia and passed on the natural shade of tan we ethnic types have acquired — her from South America, and me from the southern European countries like my father’s Greek homeland. She had left the sweat lodge and agreed to go with me on this next leg of my spiritual journey

     “They’re too white for me,” I said, pointing at their pale faces, their blonde heads, and the white hairs of their elderly wise ones. “I haven’t seen one Black,” I added. “We’re their token brown-skinned people.” Eventually, she helped me to overcome my resistance, and we entered the church even though Melanie was still a little wet from swimming in the pool after the sweat and unable to change out of the bra and other underthings that had gotten soaked!

Listening to the Performance of a Friend’s Daughter 

     There we were. Two “Recovering” Catholics, walking into the Valley Forge Baptist Church to take in the solo performance of the daughter of dear retired friends I had made while breakfasting at an IKEA restaurant in Conshohocken. They waved to us, and Melanie and I parted the sea of white folks and sat in a pew behind the proud parents. Their daughter played divinely, and despite an apparent ban against applauding in such a refined church of God, the audience cheered her and I whistled as loudly as the most boisterous fan at a Phillies/Mets game.

     A wonderful choir next offered every one the Sound of Angels. That was followed by a group of teens who had recently attended a church-sponsored camp in North Carolina who explained to the thousands of congregational members how Christ had entered into their lives and changed them forever. Each boy reminded me of a miniature “preacher-in-training” with the fervor of zealot for God, while the girls talked of the gentler side of a divine forgiveness, unconditional love, and spiritual camaraderie. Then Satan raised his ugly head.

Devil-like Preacher Wants Only Christian Music

     No, Lucifer made no appearance, although one of the adult preachers brought up his name while chastising the youth for listening to the foulest of foul music provided in the world today. He asked for money to develop Christian music as an alternative to evil sounds my generation had been warned against when Ed Sullivan chose not to show Elvis Presley’s lower parts on national television and “race songs” — those performed by Black artists and Doo Wop groups years ago got banned in Boston.

     I couldn’t wait to escape, bid farewell to the lovely white-haired couple who invited us, and put a distance between them and my sinful self. It was while I was drinking water in my car and reflecting on the day’s events that divine insight struck me like the proverbial bolt of lightning.

God and the Divine Spirit of the Cosmos are the same one we all talk about, but we use different     languages to praise and worship. He or she is the clear light, the Buddha Nature existing in all that we can tap into when we want to live a life that Jesus lived, or that Mohammed said was possible if we but give up our will and let a more powerful Will control the major part of our lives. Yes, we still have free choice, free will.

Look for Shekinah, the Feminine Side of God

     But we know where our internal moral compass is directing us to go. It tells us what is good or bad at the moment and that all we need do is seek the stillness and silence where a “Shekinah” — what the Hebrew language calls the “Feminine Side of God” — dwells. She is always available to guide us. Seek her out, this great spirit, this energy, this Great Vibration, and give up all resistance.
     You’ll find out you can do it with no sweat, and with no loss of anything God hadn’t planned for your personal purpose in life.

Saying ‘I Love You’ Twice Blesses Me!

by contoveros

“I Love.”

It’s an affirmation I can live with over and over, day in and day out, from one lifetime to another, without ever getting tired of saying it.

It is in the giving of love that I’m twice blessed. I got so much of it when I come into your presence that I can’t keep it in, and I must share, or I know that I could die. And so, I tell you that “I Love You,” and hope that you never stop listening to me. Even if you blush and say that I’m only kidding and scold me, saying “Stop that, Michael. Quit playing around.”  Continue reading →

Don’t let me believe in all my thoughts

by contoveros

     I’m so scared because I don’t know what to do, nor who to turn to. Flashes of insights, intuition, and a “knowing” that borders on the Psychic have arisen in me and I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse.  Continue reading →

Friar Pope champions single moms, Chastises clergy for shutting ’em out

by contoveros

     He’s at it again. This time, the Friar Pope is championing what I call the “untouchable class” of Catholics, the single mother, also known throughout Christianity’s Dark Ages as the “UN – WED MOTHER.”

     (Funny, but those Dark Ages seem like only yesterday!)  Continue reading →

Doors are Opening for All Doing Good!

by contoveros

There’s a passage in Mark’s Gospel in which Jesus’ disciples complain that someone — one who is not one of them — is casting out demons in Jesus’ name. It seems that fundamentalists of all ages have held a belief that there was only one way to get to the kingdom; only one way, and that was through Jesus.  Continue reading →

Happy Mothers’ Day, Poor Little Thérèse

by contoveros

     How could I – a mother of two with a 10-year drug problem – be facing a life sentence for something stupid I did at the local Rite Aid store? Continue reading →

I wish all compassion found in meditation

by contoveros

     On February 5th, 2012, a friend who calls herself, the Frugal Xpat, commented:

“I always wanted to meditate . . . “

I didn’t respond to the comment until now, but I want to share how everyone could enjoy this exercise the Frugal Expat spoke of in Daily Meditation Desperately Needed. As she describes her life’s quest, she is on “An expat’s journey in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates.” Continue reading →

Greet your road with love and compassion

by contoveros

     I’ve taken compassion on the road.

     Literally!

      I send affection to motorists cut off by a speeding car that winds in and out of lanes. I feel for the driver who was never told by the operator of a car in front that that operator was going to turn, despite what appears to be working lights that turn on and off when you press the turn signal lever up or down.

     My heart goes out to you who have observed the speed limit, inching no more than seven miles an hour over a 55-mph limit when someone in a pickup truck rides your tail even though the driver can simply pull into the open right lane and pass your car on the left.

     I used to curse out those I believed were inconsiderate drivers. You know the aggressive types that always seemed to have more important business to attend to than you did.  Too often, I’d let anger push me to the extreme, and I’d speed up to show ’em what a speedster they had met on the road. It was road rage, pure and simple. The more I focused on how I’d been insulted, the more the rage would become inflamed, causing me to see red and not care about the defensive driving skills I swore I would practice just a few minutes earlier when I was feeling more level-headed.

Compassion for So-Called Reckless Driver

     Then it dawned on me. I could feel compassion for the so-called reckless driver. I know what it is like to be in such a hurry. I’ve been there. I’d feel the world would come to an end should I miss an appointment, be late for a job, or fail in the impression I wanted to make by arriving early enough to greet someone.

     I always had a reason to speed. There were so many important things I had to do, to finish, to check off that “to-do” list to feel my life was worthwhile, that I was accomplished, that I am accomplishing . . . something.

     I try to understand how the person traveling in the car trapped himself or herself by his or her own expectations, the desires and attachments to concepts and ideas that were no more real than the make-believe “deadline” they have imposed on themselves. No, there has never been a line that we needed to reach to prevent someone from falling down dead.

     We’ve created this illusion. We’ve invested much of our lives into reaching certain milestones, destinations, and goals. That is all well and good, until we enslave ourselves to becoming totally “outcome-focused.” How you get there doesn’t matter, just as long as you carry out that task wherever it might be. Too often, it doesn’t matter who we hurt or cut off on the road we have traveled.

Process is More Important than the Finish Line

     The process itself, I have learned, is just as important as, if not more important than, crossing the finish line. We spend the greatest part of our lives in some sort of “process” to get something.

     We are squandering away that time if we focus on nothing but the ending. Why not learn to enjoy the road while we’re riding? Enjoy the lay of the land, the smooth macadam where the tires roll on following a bumpy part of the highway. Breathe in the air, the scented smell of that green-tree air-freshener of mint or the dark brown one that smells like brand new leather seats.

     Sip from your cup of hot coffee or cool water. Listen to music or the beautiful sounds of silence that help you to still the mind so that you can live through your senses now, not at the end of the road. It is in the moment that you can find true compassion. Seek it inside, and, if you’re lucky, you can pick it up as a hitch-hiker on a road less traveled.

Abide in the moment you just completed

by contoveros

I am Complete.

I am Finished.

     I’ve done what I have done and everyone can be satisfied with my efforts, including — and most importantly — me. Continue reading →

Being present for the dying brings all alive

by contoveros

Death entered my life recently and I’ve felt so alive with its presence. Continue reading →

Only the Pure in Heart Will See their Goal

by contoveros

Purity.

     There’s something in it that resonates with me. In my private moments, I try my best to connect with it, but once I start to analyze it, it vanishes. Continue reading →

‘Mammy’ can you hear? It’s your little boy!

by contoveros

There is a tradition in Eastern philosophies where you’re taught to view each person and other sentient being as if he, she – or it is your mother. I never knew how nurturing this could be until I allowed the child in me to reciprocate and bask in the most secure and loving place. Continue reading →

How many times must we say “I’m sorry”?

by contoveros

Saying you’re sorry can be downright scary.

Particularly, if you’re not sure if the other party will accept your mea culpa even though it’s from the bottom of your heart.  Continue reading →

A change in time helps change my reality

by contoveros

Reality shifted on me the other day, and it helped me realize that I have more control than my “resifted” thoughts allowed me to see. Now, with a “time-control outlook,” I can try to change my world for the better.  Continue reading →

Let Catholics ‘opt out” in birth control plan

by contoveros

I don’t understand all the fuss that Catholic universities and hospitals are raising over providing health care for women that includes mandatory birth control provisions. Why not let “Practicing Catholics” follow the teachings of their church to “opt out” for the coverage, while permitting non-Catholics what doctors and women’s groups say is a health benefit?  Continue reading →

Don’t ‘better’ yourself by berating another

by contoveros

I was seething when I saw my former US senator decry Blacks receiving food stamps from the government. Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania told an Iowa audience this week that he would tackle this “race problem” if elected president, thus echoing the sentiments of his old congressional colleague, Newt Gingrich, who suggested poor students in city schools clean the bathrooms for their more affluent ones, rather than grow up to be pimps or prostitutes.  Continue reading →

Like to Change History? Try Writing It!

by contoveros

How’d you like to go back in time and correct mistakes made in the past? No, you couldn’t go back to the moment before you were conceived, or any other time in your far distant past. Go back to more recent moments – say in the past year or two — when you believed you knew so much about life and how to live it without doing harm to others.  Continue reading →

Resolve to Stop Anger from Feeding on Me

by contoveros

Anger.

     It hits like a poison arrow causing me to drop what I’m doing and focus on the pain it inflicts.

Where does it come from? Is it shot from a bow of some unseen foe hoping to do me harm? Or does it arise from within when certain buttons are pushed, like a crazy bone reacting once a physician’s tool strikes that right (or wrong) spot?

My anger springs up almost immediately, spreading pellets out from a shotgun blast over a wide area, striking everything in its path, including the object of my ire as well as ones I never intended to harm.

The anger doesn’t dissipate once it explodes.

It lingers.

It simmers at a low boil, awaiting the opportunity to burn and scold anything or anyone my impatience forces me to look unkindly on and consider spraying upon. It pains and marks me as I hold it obscenely close trying to figure out where it came from, who or what caused it, and why I so easily fall prey to it whenever it erupts inside.

————-

     You’re a fool,

       Michael J.

       Let it go!

Remove the arrow before the poison spreads and engulfs whatever goodness remains in you. It can destroy whatever love and compassion you tried to generate in life when cool-headed and away from less stressful situations.

Don’t try to analyze, categorize or editorialize the grave danger it poses. Don’t believe you can control it. You cannot “befriend” it.

You Can’t Tame it.

It’s too strong and it will demand control of and over you every time.

Sure, you may have needed to use it to right a wrong, to defend with all of your might against some evil, to even kill so that an innocent could justifiably go on living.

But you must give it up! Use it sparingly, if at all, and release it as you learn the long, slow practice of patience.

————-

     This could be first step in understanding that this poison will always be there, that there is a cause for its painful existence; and that help is available to forestall its deadly mission once you learn to walk a path you always knew you’d need to follow to truly awake.

    PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) can be treated and understood without having to face the slings and arrows of war day in and day out.

(Let me deal with the type of arrow that brought down a brave warrior like the Greek Achilles!

Recalling childhood angels with dirty faces

by contoveros

I can think of no worse place to be than in a church, a temple, or a synagogue when an unbidden and involuntary giggle would invade my psyche and take control of me. A “giggle” is too mild a word: uncontrollable laughter would rise to the level of guffaws and downright knee-slappers, right at the most somber parts of a religious service. Continue reading →

Reaching Higher In Women’s Company

by contoveros

I Love Women.

I’ll take them in all shapes and sizes, the old and the young, the rich and the poor.

If it wasn’t for women, I — and a lot of guys I know — wouldn’t even be here! Continue reading →

All I Want For Christmas Is . . . Nothing!

by contoveros

     Am I un-American or anti-religious when I tell you something I’ve been trying to say for years, but have been afraid of hurting your feelings?

     I want Nothing for Christmas!  Continue reading →

Indulgences for Purgatory from Past Lives

by contoveros
      (Caution: Exposure to this post could be hazardous to your health, particularly if you were raised Catholic with a taste of Buddhist and Kabalistic ingredients thrown in the mix.)

Indulgences are some things I never thought I’d think about once I finished with my Catholic upbringing and moved onto Eastern Studies and the spiritual advice from the Kabbalah. But there I was reading how someone could limit their time in purgatory by performing certain acts and saying prayers.  Continue reading →

Love & Comfort Your Self on Sick Days

by contoveros
     There’s something about getting sick on a day off that allows me to feel sorry for myself free of all guilt. I take pity on myself; I baby myself; I pamper myself. Nothing prevents me from going “easy” on myself and refraining from pushing to get something done. Continue reading →

Joseph’s Pregnant Conversion

by contoveros

“Did you hear what I said? I’m pregnant.

Joseph. Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“What’s there to say?” the young carpenter named Joseph said to himself.

“You tell me an angel “appeared” and “announced” you were with child . . . You ask me to believe no man had anything to do with this.”  Continue reading →

Begging Your Pardon, I Can See You Now

by contoveros

     I saw more of the Divine in a beggar on the road to Calvary last year than I did in the three religions occupying Jerusalem. The beggar’s blindness beamed into me, and I’ll never forget the look on his face as I offered him Israeli shekels, and he bowed to me in thanks.
Continue reading →

Open my Vessel for ALL Lights to Shine

by contoveros

     Thank God for Buddhism.

     What’s that you say?

     I can’t have one in, and of, the other?

     Are you telling this red-blooded American veteran that I cannot follow the teachings of the Buddha and still believe in the God of Abraham? Continue reading →

My life is dependent on the rest of you

by contoveros

     I am as dependent on you as you are on me, as we all are on the kindness and labor of others we too often take for granted.

     As I look around, I see that my fortune is dependent on the cooperation and contributions of others. Continue reading →

Giving Thanks For Feeling So Grateful

by contoveros

      I want to give “thanks” today, but don’t want to offer it the Norman-Rockwell, “fake-it-‘til-you-make-it” way of the holidays. Instead, I want to share how grateful I am for such taken-for-granted “gifts” that I am only beginning to realize most of us have been given. Continue reading →

My Loving Prayer to Saint Francis of Assisi

by contoveros

I want to follow and not lead;

Give  and not take;

 Love and not hate.

Like you, I want to be a soldier of peace and not war; a kind and loving friend to the poor and a prodding yet mild abrasion to the rich. Continue reading →

War is never the answer today (11-11-11)

by contoveros

On this Veterans Day, 11-11-11, what would you tell yourself if you could go back in time and greet that young man recently returned home from the war?

     War is never the answer,

     But only a failure on all

     Sides to reach an answer. Continue reading →

A noble banker needs to occupy here

by contoveros

Is there a noble banker in the world? Only someone in the lending business who sees his calling as a “service for the people,” I believe, could correct past abuses and recommend changes for, and in the best interests of, us “99 percenters.”

I am sure there are many who entered the field with the best intentions and still work with distinction, living up to the honor bestowed only upon the most trustworthy in society. We need honest and reliable people who know their way around economics to guide the rest of us. When a few abuse the faith we place in them, it cripples the entire process and causes the type of havoc we see in protests by people who feel betrayed, used, and nearly hopeless.

Served as “Payroll Officer” twice as a Lietenant

———-

     Part of my “duty” as a lieutenant in the Army was to serve as a payroll officer in the states and another time in Vietnam. I short-change myself both times, losing $80 once and about $40 the next time. I didn’t report either discrepancy because I did not want superior officers to question my efficiency or competency.

     You see, I felt “honored” to serve in that capacity. I had barely obtained a high school degree with no classes in home economics or any other type of economics. While in the military, I served as “paymaster” in between roles as a training officer in Ft. Polk, Louisiana, and as a combat infantry platoon leader in Southeast Asia. I enjoyed assisting those of all ranks who depended on their monthly pay, and I got so much out of taking part in their lives and what they planned to do with their cash.

     (The Army had also assigned me to prosecute soldiers committing minor infractions and I learned I never wanted to take the side of government against a person ever again. I would eventually end up representing defendants in criminal cases brought by government officials.)

     Bankers are needed by all parts of society

I believe that anyone who works in banking provides a much-needed service to the rest of us. We elevate our financial managers and count on them to give advice to our government leaders to steer us through both good and bad economic times. We depend on them when we need to borrow money, and we trust they won’t take advantage of their unique positions.

But when they do, we need people from within the field to call them out, to decry practices that might have been legal in the eyes of the law, but clearly illegal according to the social contract persons of their station assume when taking on such a role.

Money lending historically has been seen as a necessary evil at best, and grounds for excommunication at worst. (See the practice by the Catholic Church.) A main argument against it was that it created excessive profit and gain without “labor.” Labor was deemed as “work” in a Biblical context. Profits from money-lending or “usury” were not gained from any substantial work but from greed, trickery, and manipulation, according to early tenets in the three major Western religions.

———–

     Unless honorable men practicing in the field step forward and offer to make needed changes today, I believe we’ll return to those “Dark Ages” where more drastic measures were used against those “one percenters.”

Can anyone spell “D E F A U L T” on loans?

Twice snow uncovers October awakenings

by contoveros

     It snowed along the East Coast of the United States today (October 29, 2011), making it the first time in more than 30 years the white stuff appeared this early outside my Conshohocken, PA, window.

     I remember the last time because it was so life-changing, and I wonder if today’s gift from above will have the same effect on me and my world.  Continue reading →

Wall Street never profits anyone’s soul

by contoveros

     The phone rang, and Henry Rushing answered it, hoping the call would not delay his weekly trip to church services Sunday morning. The pastor of his Presbyterian Church was on the line. “Henry, you’ve got to prepare yourself,” the cleric said in his most comforting voice. “There are demonstrators outside our building protesting. Their signs have your name on them, and they’re not too charitable with what they’re alleging.” Continue reading →

These are the True Signs of Our Times!

by contoveros

When I read the Occupy Wall Street demonstrators were unfocused and without a coherent message, I took a closer look at them in Philadelphia, and discovered some were disheveled street persons looking for handouts, and one was a graduate school political science major spouting Marxist teaching.

     They represented only one percent.

   The remaining 99 percent of the other protestors were mostly young, highly educated, unemployed or underemployed men and women who got tired of the debt-ceiling fiasco and took to the streets to mobilize against the Tea Party followers.  Continue reading →

“For the Signs, they are a ‘Changing'”

by contoveros
(From Part I, These are true signs of our Times/)

The greatest protest of our generation is seeking change in all shapes and sizes. You can see it in the signs the demonstrators carry, writing the letters out really big with magic markers so that passersby need not squint to get the messages.

There is not just one message, but many, which all have one thing in common: a belief that our world can do better for all and not just the few, the ninety-nine percent making $55,000 a year (per family) or less, as opposed to the one percent controlling some 40 percent of the wealth in the United States of America.

     They don’t want your money, Mr. Entrepreneur, only your attention for a moral and ethical way of life that takes into consideration more than the Almighty Dollar.  Continue reading →

Grant me a world of group friends, Amen!

by contoveros

As my world started to close in on me, demanding its immediate attention toward responsibilities, affairs of work, and needs in my house, I found an oasis inside of myself and in the thoughts of friends in my group.

Now, this ain’t just any ordinary group. It’s one where members have placed the concerns and desires of others above their own. It is a group of men and women, old and young, rich and poor, who have made altruism their guiding principle.

They — myself included when I can pick myself off the mat where I feel I’ve been beaten to time and again — give no advice but simply listen deeply to the concerns of another.

By opening our hearts, we let another pour out what may seem an insurmountable problem that somehow develops a miraculous solution once it is aired in the light of day. Some say it is the light that shines on our suffering that causes most predicaments to shrink in size, to be placed into a larger picture, and thus become more manageable.

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But you don’t know that when walloped to the side of your head by something that you did not see coming and want to fight against in the only way you know how: ferociously with no concern who you end up hurting. In most cases, the worst victim of your rage becomes yourself.

  •      That is why silence and a retreat from those worldly battlements are needed for replenishment. It is when I close my eyes to the chaos and uncompromising world that I begin to see hope and a cure for such destructive powers. I focus on naught but my breathing, mindfully nudging out thoughts of the moment until I can rest “in the moment” with no intrusions, save the golden silence broken only by breathing in and breathing out.

Then I visualize a friend or two from the group, a friend whose mere touch had lifted my spirits, one whose soft smile eased my heart and guaranteed — a mutual guarantee — that life is better than what our limited five senses can sort out.

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     I bask in the image of one friend and then another, recalling the love each offered as we gathered in assembly. There is no right or wrong, no good or bad, just an acceptance of the here and now. My group can be “life and in person” or a “virtual” one, as the messages we provide via the Internet. Loving compassion is palpable, no matter what forum it is conveyed in.
     And so, I say to my group that you are the greatest generation I have ever been fortunate to have been born into. I thank my lucky stars that whatever karma emerges, I’ll use it to take action for a more compassionate world. By placing my faith above reason, I can see a world where I will always call you “friend” and long to be as one in our group together. . . forever . . . world without end.