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.
Their probe followed closely on the heels of a police officer who paid us an unsolicited visit.
A neighbor complained of the Sombitch Rooster, who could not keep crowing to a minimum and has raised such a ruckus, so we have to find him a new home, away from the Philadelphia area, and some less dense place like New Jersey.
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.
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.
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.
Taking a step today that scares me. Going to become an “Initiate“ Buddhist at a morning ceremony. Do a prostration, touch my forehead to the floor, and recognize a Power greater than myself.
That’ll be the easy part. Saw enough Catholic priests drop to the church floor during a 40-hour service that I’m used to seeing American Buddhist ladies and gentlemen do the ritual at the Chenrezig Tibetan Buddhist Center of Philadelphia.
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 told her about a spiritual teacher who described this dilemma differently, using a piece of garlic as an example of a “delusion” that one can learn to remove from his or her eyes to see a much brighter and clearer pathway in the world.
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.
Reaching out with my right hand, I’d grab the metal ring. I would stand on my toes to pull it closer to the wooden platform I was balanced on. Gotta pull the ring back. Pull it so I can get the proper swing to the next ring. If you glide out without an extra pull, you’d fall short and drop to the ground, a failure.
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
That’s what Life is all about.
Causes and Conditions.
The sooner I realize this,
the easier it will be to
Reach Enlightenment.  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.
One stretched, only to see the other match the move immediately, with nary an eye blink, nor a muscle flinch.
There was a meanness in their beady eyes. And if looks could kill, both would be lying dead where they stood.
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.
‘Veterans are the light at the tip of the candle,’ illuminating the way for the whole nation.
If veterans can achieve awareness, transformation, understanding, and peace, they can share with the rest of society the realities of war.
And they can teach us how to make peace with ourselves and each other, so we never have to use violence to resolve conflicts again.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh
The following is a message I left shortly after writing the quotes from Thich Nhat Hahn. I’ll never forget the experience meditating with him and other veterans who got together during the retreat and even had pictures taken:
See. I can’t go 12 words without letting out some sort of “expleted deleted word,” even one as mild as a “damn.”
I loathe my inconsistencies on grief, and how I dealt with death and injuries while serving in the military.
I blame the Army for not giving me the chance to mourn someone on first hearing of their senseless death. I blame myself for choosing to be a good soldier and not a compassionate human being, placing country first — before God and humanity.
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.
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.”
Over and over and over. Because we tend to make the same mistakes repeatedly.
Meditation can “erase” a lot.
Focus on Nothing but the Very Present
I focus on the present. Gently nudge out thoughts of yesterday and the future and try to keep my senses on the “now.” I listen to sounds, feel the chair beneath my legs and butt, as well as my hands on my lap and the air around me. I let the itch remain “unscratched” and it goes away.
Mistakes don’t seem to matter. At least when I ease myself into the moment and away from the chattering nabobs of negativism. All dissolve, drift away.
Forgiveness Granted from the Divine
I “flow” with my breath, following it in and out of my nostrils, “feeling” it in the upper front part of my skull, all the time “forgiving” myself for not meeting my expectations and/or making the plans for tomorrow. The “Divine” in me grants absolution without the “Hail Mary’s” and the “Our Fathers.”
And I go and sin no more.
Until the next couple of breaths.
—————-
And I do it all over again!
Michael J
For more see: Finding my way back
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!
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.
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 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.
“Nothing,” a term used by Eastern mystics, was the meditative “void” he meant, when saying “it” was going to “change my world.” You remember the lyric and haunting melody, if not the words of the song. A movie using the title was made: “Across the Universe.”
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
Does the Universe conspire to create minor miracles on a given day? Yes. But only if you believe in modern-day miracles.
I experienced several on February 16, 2010, with the last manifesting over a two-day period in the history of miracles for Contoveros. (For the series, see Rooster helps open path to miraculous day)
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
Calling a kid names could cause a lasting scar one may have to deal with later in life. It’s either that, or you learn to “toughen up” as I did, and let the wise-cracks, the slurs, the hate-filled and ignorant remarks simply glide over you.
I remember my teenage years, and names aimed at me by people I didn’t know or hardly knew. On occasion, I’d hear somebody call me “queer.” I’m not homosexual, not that there’s anything wrong with it, to quote the old Seinfeld routine. But I never shied away from such “feminine” activities as dancing and singing, getting “dressed up,” for a party, and “speaking in complete sentences” and not the monosyllables used by a lot of so-called “tough” guys on the block of North Philadelphia where I grew up.
Later still, I got hit with such labels as “racist,” and then “sexist.” Neither fit, but I never stayed around those persons long enough to prove them wrong. They did not know me, and I was maturing enough to know my bending over backwards to show them the opposite would be a waste of time. Their’s and mine.
When it comes to name-calling, I’m not talking ancient history here. I remember returning from a trip to Greece in late 2008 and hearing a comment from a fellow Vietnam veteran twice my size about my fellow countrymen. We were riding in an elevator full of veterans and this Patty DeMarco-type — a bully — asked me if I enjoyed myself with all the “Greek men” in Athens.
“Yeah,” I said. “Including your mama.”
Got a big laugh all around. Except for the homophobic name-caller, who turned red in his White face. He was the same one who said his parish priest had to “clean out” the church recreational hall when a group of Muslims were permitted to hold a meeting there. The guy’s old. Age-wise as well as culturally. He’s got white hair and lives alone with his PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). Few have any thing to do with him. Including his family. When will he ever learn that you just can’t elevate your self, you can’t improve your lot by trying to tear down another because of their religion, their politics, their way of life?
I kicked Patty DeMarco’s ass the next time he called me a name while growing up in Brewerytown. (See Name-calling can get you kicked in the end .) Hit him as hard as I could, shouting “get up, ‘shrimpboats,'” as he fell to the street, cowering next to marble steps leading to one of the row homes on our block. He held both arms over his face, as snot poured out and onto his clothes. Now it was his turn to bawl. The only name he called then, was for his “mama.” It felt good, but I would not recommend it for an adult who picked up PTSD during his or her lifetime. Could end up in jail and the name-caller in the morgue.
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt you, is how the saying goes. They may not hurt, but I don’t think you ever forget them, either. If you’re lucky, you use them to either build character or learn how to forgive from a long distance for harms done you a long time ago.
Contoveros 
“Ain’t gonna study war no more . . .”
That was the song veterans and family members of vets sang at the retreat with Thích Nhất Hạnh at Blue Cliff Monastery, upstate New York. We formed a group which included the daughter of General William C. Westmoreland, once the commander of the Army during the Vietnam War.
Thầy held a special place for veterans from the United States who faced war and believed we could help others see the futility of all wars!
(See https://contoveros.com/2017/03/15/thich-nhat-hanh-sees-the-suffering-in-us/)
Lyrics
I’m gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside,
Down by the riverside, down by the riverside
I’m gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside,
I’m gonna study war no more
I ain’t a gonna study war no more, I ain’t a gonna study war no more
I ain’t a gonna study war no more, I ain’t a gonna study war no more
I ain’t a gonna study war no more, I ain’t a gonna study war no more