I began a major endeavor this month to re-edit all of the Blog posts that I had written over the years, and it has re-opened many of the hopes and dreams that I once shared while writing and sharing messages at Contoveros.Wordpress.com.
It all started with a dream I had about Socrates and Plato which connected with my “active imagination” that the eminent psychologist Carl G. Yung had wrote about in hisPsychology of the Unconscious.
Continue readingIt’s been six months since I entered the hospital and got transferred from one rehabilitation center to another, but I think I may have finally licked the worst of my ailments and am ready to join my old household. I still have trouble walking from one room to another, and I need assistance from someone walking behind me while climbing up the stairs.
Continue readingI want to unmask my true feelings about the Masking of America and how to get people to care enough for one another to be a little more considerate while walking outdoors.
Today is Vietnam Veterans Day, and the Year 2020 marks the 50th anniversary of my deployment in the war zone. I was a 21-year-old second lieutenant placed in charge of a platoon of some 25 men, many of them still in their teenage years and drafted like I had been.  Continue reading
It is hitting me more and more lately, particularly since I decided to do my own taxes for the first time in my life and not pay out nearly $300 to have a professional do the work.  Continue reading
I exercise daily and try to get enough steps each day to add up to two miles. That’s around 6,250 steps if anyone is counting.
Well, my iPhone is counting ‘em. The steps, that is. And the miles.
I was kicked out of a Courtroom when I raised my voice to a judge who seemed to be favoring an assistant district attorney who wanted my client removed from hospice because he hadn’t died soon enough after I got him out of jail.  Continue reading
“It’s snowing!” is what Phoenyx happily announced to the household as the nine-year-old made her way up to the third floor at 6:58 am this morning.  Continue reading
I was so proud of the Secretary of the Navy for his resignation in protest of a hideous act to cover up the atrocities of those in the military charged with war crimes.  Continue reading
I started the Blog shortly after attending the funeral for my last surviving blood relative, Uncle Dominic Hagel, my mother’s brother, who, together with his wife, Aunt Frances, helped to raise me when sent from Philadelphia to Egg Harbor, NJ. My mother had postpartum depression after the birth, and I was sent to my grandmother, who shared her house with Uncle Dom.
Something clicked inside of me. I had just gotten help for PTSD from the Vietnam War and learned to meditate from a VA psychologist who taught veterans mindfulness meditation. I also finished a 6-week course of dream-journaling after reading about Psychologist Carl G Jung.
After meditating, I rose from the pew and stepped out as if I were going for Holy Communion. I walked backward and studied the various statues. Each had a story to tell, and I internalized that understanding and wanted to share my own story.
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On my return home, I began to write about what I was taught in second grade as the “purpose of life.” That is “To Know, Love and Serve God,” according to the Baltimore Catechism. I wrote about all three.
In between, I had a dream about Socrates and coupled it with what Jung called an “active imagination.” I saw people in my life as Angels or Guides who directed me in my path to include my teenage mentor who taught me to sing Doo Wop harmony, my oldest brother who guided me into Officer Candidate School and eventual service in the Vietnam War, and a Scottish neighbor of my parents who suggested I study journalism when he heard I took printing courses in the high school trade school I attended.
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I wrote about the war and PTSD, securing a not guilty verdict on my first jury trial and serving as a newspaper reporter covering Three Mile Island.
I shared my understanding of the Kabbalah and my journey to Jerusalem, my studies of WON Buddhism, and my trip to South Korea, and how I learned to dance a mean dervish whirl while learning about the Sufi and the Muslim faith.
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My total count is now 881 posts, something I never imagined I would reach way back then. I made so many good friends from all over the world to include Russia, Great Britain, Iceland, Greece, and Canada, not to mention my fellow countrymen and women.
It has been very therapeutic and enlightening, particularly when receiving comments from readers who shared my view and added to the discussion.
I was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant 50 years ago, and looking back, I see it as one of the greatest achievements of my life. Also, one of the luckiest ones, and I’m so glad to still be around to talk about it.
Yes, by an Act of Congress, I was made “An Officer & a Gentleman.” I don’t know where that title came from — Great Britain, I guess — but I tried to live up to its “ideal” while in the army, and later when discharged, which career paths I should follow in my life.  Continue reading
I never realized I had anything in common with Abraham Lincoln until I re-watched a movie about the president’s early life as a trial attorney. Yes, Honest Abe served as a lawyer who once worked for the railroads as well as those charged with criminal offenses. Henry Fonda played a young Abe Lincoln in a classic movie on Turner Classic Movies in which the Springfield, Illinois, former rail-splitter pulled a stunt in a courtroom that convinced a jury to find his client not guilty of murder. A young man for whom Lincoln represented pro bono was charged with killing a man at night in a wooded area.
Continue readingThat’s the jury instruction I’d request a judge to provide when a witness at a trial said one thing one time and another thing at another time. Also, when one or more witnesses said something different than what the first witness had sworn to tell the truth about while sitting on the witness stand. Continue reading
Patty Ward, a Specialist 4 with a helicopter gunship, was shot down 50 years ago while flying to the aid of US Army soldiers during the Vietnam War. He was one of four men who died when their helicopter was hit and crashed.
Patty was awarded the Silver Star for bravery in connection with helping to rescue other grunts wounded in another battle. His family in the Fairmount section of Philadelphia received the medal posthumously.  Continue reading
Are there moments in our life when we can see God’s fingerprints or the Will of the Universe directing us along our path? I’m talking about seeing such a Divine event as it is occurring or upon hindsight years later.
That’s the question raised by a group of my friends at the Spiritual Sharing Circle that meets once a month at the Center for Contemporary Mysticism in the Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia.  Continue reading
Joy filled my soul as I read that the 12 boys trapped in a flooded cave in Thailand were thinking of entering a monastery in honor of the former Navy SEAL who gave his life in an effort to save them.  Continue reading
That is the message gracefully displayed at the gravesite of my favorite Founding Father in the City of Philadelphia. He was an ambassador to both England and France, as well as a signer of the Declaration of Independence and contributor to the US Constitution. He was also an inventor, a philosopher, and the creator of the first library, the first zoo, and the first fire company in the New World.
Memorial Day always brings back memories of the Vietnam War and one of the soldiers I served with who I called a friend and a true “comrade-in-arms.” He was Victor Lee Ellinger, a fellow who lived in Staunton, VA. He was shot and killed by an enemy sniper while leading a platoon some 50 miles outside of Saigon. Continue reading
Writing has opened me to a world above and beyond my five senses and I feel like an H.G. Wells whenever I revisit the past and recall what life was like when I was fortunate enough to stop the world for a few brief moments and write about something. Continue reading
If it wasn’t for an intervention by an Italian crime boss, I don’t believe I would be here today.  Continue reading
The best example of PTSD ever portrayed in a movie was offered by John Goodman in “The Big Lebowski” when the character, a Vietnam veteran, pulls a gun on a fellow bowler and threatens to shoot him for crossing a line and attempting to enter a score in a book.  Continue reading
Father Koenig put the gloves on me when I was ten years old and directed me toward the kid who was my same size but some two years older. That kid – Billy McLaughlin – kicked my butt. But I never cried or gave up as I swung wildly at him in an effort to land my own punches.  Continue reading
She stared at me as I walked from the courtroom, and I felt her hate bore into me. Her whole posture seemed to drip with contempt, and what I could only feel at that moment was a curse from her whole being.  Continue reading
That was the title of my first job when I was 15 years old. Somebody from the old neighborhood got me hired in downtown Philadelphia, and I took the bus to get to work on weekends and after school days.
A steady drip from the faucet of my kitchen made my day today as I shouted “Halleluiah” during one of the worst snowstorms of my entire life.  Continue reading
It struck me as I slowly made my way from the floor of the plane and stood in the center of the walkway. There were at least 30 other soldiers on the C-140, a military aircraft that was flying over the field where those of us in jump school would soon be taking our first jump.  Continue reading
I didn’t want to go to Vietnam. Who did back in 1968? I was never a gung-ho type of guy, even though I’d go a little berserk when a buddy of mine got attacked by some bully at home or in school.  Continue reading
I was born Out of Wedlock.
That kind of makes me a Bastard!
Some have called me that, and I guess they knew more about my life than I ever did.  Continue reading
John Facenda was Philadelphia’s favorite newscaster when I was growing up. He was suave and debonair, kind of like a Cary Grant with a voice that captured your immediate attention, whether it be about shenanigans going on in city government or sports actions through NFL replays. Continue reading
A fellow I worked with got a luke-warm endorsement for a man running to be the next district attorney of Philadelphia, and I believe it will go a long way in ensuring justice is served in my old hometown. Continue reading
I heard the word “Satsang” yesterday, and it reminded me of a journey I started a half a lifetime ago when I had hit rock bottom and sought answers to the meaning of life.
Satsang is a Sanskrit word that means “gathering together for the truth” or, more simply, “being with the truth.” According to sources from India, Truth is what is real, what truly exists. Continue reading
Thích Nhất Hạnh looked at me from the most sorrowful eyes I have ever seen, and I understood what it was like for a person to feel all the suffering the world is experiencing.
I had attended a five-day silent retreat at Blue Cliff Monastery in upstate New York with some thousand others who meditated morning, noon, and night. Someone would ring a bell as you walked through the monastery grounds and just like clockwork, everyone would stop what they were doing and rest in the present moment.  Continue reading
To me, it’s a big deal for it is something I haven’t done in quite a while. You see, I have prostate problems. I got diagnosed with it while at the VA hospital, and I take medication every night, but no matter what I do, I still have to get up in the middle of the night and take a pee.  Continue reading
I experienced the Presence of God when I was 12 years old but didn’t know it until some fifty years later when I meditated and realized how much the Divine had filled me when I was praying for a girl I had just met on that glorious pre-teenage weekend. Continue reading
I cannot recall the one and only time I saw myself perform on television with my singing group, even though it was one of the highlights of my life.
I sang bass for a Doo Wop group in the late 1960s as we appeared on the Super Lou Dance Show. We sang two songs, which were recorded by a film crew. The performance was taped in front of a live audience for Channel 29, a UHF Station with its studio at Old York Road in the Philadelphia suburb of Jenkintown. (Philadelphia had three UHF stations – Channels 17, 29, and 48.)
We auditioned for the show’s emcee at his Northeast Philadelphia home, and he agreed to performance a few weeks later. We purchased matching shirts like the one Seinfeld wore for his television appearance and we practiced two songs from our “Golden Oldies” repertoire.
Five Jaunts on the Super Lou Show
I remember walking onto the dance floor and staring at the bright lights that lit us up for the camera. My voice was the first one heard because I opened with a bass sound to start the Rock & Roll beat. I was advised later to remove my glasses because the lights shone too brightly and the reflection was distracting.
All went well with the show, and I’ll never forget Super Lou speaking to us at the end, stating my name as the “boom, boom” man! I couldn’t smile any brighter than I did at that wonderful moment. We sounded good, and I can tell you there is nothing more divine sounding than harmonizing in a group!
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We called ourselves The Five Jaunts. The night of our television appearance, we also “appeared” at a party held by Bob Palumbo in his mom’s house in the Brewerytown section of Philadelphia. I remember how a cute little redhead kept giving me the eye. I got my very own “groupie,” I thought, but failed to get her more interested in a more intimate relationship with me.
The problem is, however, I cannot remember seeing us sing on television. I have no memory whatsoever and I wonder today if I’m experiencing the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. I simply can’t recall the television viewing even though I can remember the performance.
I do have lots of memories of singing together, and I am so grateful that someone made a copy of our television appearance. While you can’t see us perform, you can at least listen to The Five Jaunts. Give a listen here:
(Only the second selection works. Sorry . . .)
(For another story of the Five Jaunts, check this out: The Five Jaunts.)
Alexander giggled like a schoolboy as 40 of us gathered for a service on Sunday and quietly attempted to meditate for about 30 minutes.
Wait a minute. He is a schoolboy. Alexander was just 14 years old yesterday when he attended the Tibetan Buddhist Center of Philadelphia with his mother. I was sitting next to the youth, and about halfway through the gathering, a sound erupted from the other side of the room. It sounds like someone adjusting a metal chair on the wooden floor, but to a young mind like that of Alexander, it also sounded like someone farting.  Continue reading
My greatest concern when I placed the political signs on my lawn was whether they would offend someone in my neighborhood. I live in a working class section of Pennsylvania, some 15 miles outside of Philadelphia. It was dependent on steel and manufacturing for many years, but eventually saw a decline as jobs left the little borough of Conshohocken for elsewhere. Continue reading
Dear Mr. Trump,
I never felt “weak” when I started feeling the rage that grew in me from Post-Traumatic Stress following 25 years after leading an infantry platoon in Vietnam. Continue reading
My Uncle Mike was a grizzly white haired Greek who spoke little to no English when my father invited him to stay in our house in North Philadelphia. I don’t know if he really was a blood relative, but he was one of the meanest mother-humpers I had ever come into contact with as a child. Continue reading
If I had a magic wand, I’d wave it all over my body, magically ordering it to relax and begin to accept all the good and the bad life has to throw at me
I would want to treat it all with equanimity.  Continue reading
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.”
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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.
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.)
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.
“All can heal and help facilitate the healing in others.” — Moorjani
As I struggle to come up with a satisfactory answer for this question, let me focus instead on what Deepak had quoted William Blake as saying in reference to wisdom. Wisdom is “organized innocence.” What a concept! In order to have or to cultivate wisdom, I know that I must be in awe of something; I must see that thing with wonder, with the eyes of an innocent child.
It is only when I perceive it this way, that is, when I use what Zen Buddhists call my “beginner’s mind,” that I see the true writing on a wall I offered up for its clean slate to be imprinted upon.
Wisdom is not something confined to those growing old. Nor is it only for the professor-types in ivory towers, although we can revere what many tell us because of the learning they achieved and can pass on to us. No, wisdom is something that – I believe – we’re born with . . . We have it inside of us, and one of the few ways that we can tap into it is through meditation.
In other words, I don’t have to have lots of experiences to be wise. I need only to experience things from within and be able to see things from the child’s point of view. Then I can feel the richness in witnessing.
Now, what was that question that I just dodged?
“Write about a time that you spontaneously said the right thing at the right time to someone. What did that communication feel like for you?”
I told a young woman, Rita, that our relationship would have to come to an end, and that we had to enjoy it while we were together. We were both married at the time. I’m not proud of it, but we had an affair. I was twenty-three and she was twenty-one or twenty-two. We came together as troubles had developed in both of our relationships at our separate homes.
We had fun and we grew, sharing ourselves in a way that we couldn’t with our spouses at that time. We both got divorces. She is much quicker than me. That angered her. I guess she felt that I should have joined her upon her break-up with her husband. I did not, for I was Catholic, and I knew instinctively that I would not.
That’s what I meant when I said our relationship was impermanent and that it would not last. Nothing does.
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I guess another time that this occurred was more recently, but it feels like several lifetimes ago. I had predicted to a young woman whom I had fallen in love with that we would only be together for six months. I actually told her in June that we could learn from each other and then finish what we needed to do by December.
That’s exactly what happened too! But this time, I was the one who didn’t want to pay attention to my own advice. I wanted permanence. I wanted to cling to the relationship, to hold onto something that had already ended, but I couldn’t and didn’t want to see that my earlier premonition was correct.
In each case, I was prophetic with the wisdom.
Achieving wisdom and following it, however, are two things I have learned that don’t necessarily come together all the time . . .
Death entered my life recently and I’ve felt so alive with its presence. Continue reading
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
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