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:
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.
I was in the Army less than a week when the news hit me. I had my head shaven; my civilian clothes exchanged for fatigue pants and a shirt, not to mention boots and headgear, something I had never worn before in my life.
Got drafted on the Third of June, the day that Billie Jo McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge! I was 19 years old in 1968 — knew no one — and was away from my Philadelphia, PA, home for the first time.
Got a check for $9 in the mail yesterday. It was for travel expenses on a trip I took five months ago. It came to me like magic. I must have lost it in the IKEA store of Conshohocken, and it just appeared out of nowhere for my return trip.
Back to the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies. A campus in Rhinebeck, NY, where I will return today (April 21, 2010) for another retreat on PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder).
Ever meet someone who wanted to grow up “Meek?”
You know, as in “the ‘Meek‘ shall inherit the Earth?”
“Eat your Wheaties, and you too can become as Meek as Babe Ruth,” is a jingle I bet you never heard out of Madison Avenue. Or how about “The Army builds meek men one body at a time?”
John 13. Verses 3-4 says:
“So during supper, fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper and took off his outer garments.”
Ruby,
You tell me you wish that we could have an eraser in our lives to go back and “Erase Our Mistakes.”
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.
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
The Buddha appeared in a dream. He took on the forms of a soldier, a counselor and then a computer printer. How could such an entity take shape in such different apparitions?
It all started as I entered a building. President Barack Obama’s picture beamed on a wall as I walked through a large room, cordoned off by dozens of partitions, creating offices upon offices of civil servants working for me and thousands of other veterans from the United States.
No, not the Paradise mentioned in our religious books about an Adam and Eve in a Garden of Eden. My Paradise was within, existing immediately before I had eaten from the fruit of the Knowledge Tree, the source of later intelligence, the later development of the mind and its control of my life.
Psychedelic green bursts of light pulse across my eye. It’s like a strobe light flashing over and over, as I “see” a colorful cascade of a lime green pigment appear before me as if it’s penetrating the eyeball itself.
It is! And, it’s called a “laser” procedure that a doctor from Presbyterian Hospital, a division of the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, Philadelphia, PA (USA), is performing on my left eye. Flash after flash of the laser erupts across the eye in lightening-like shapes. Are those the veins of the eye this magical light is brightening as it strikes?
He “lasers” through one hundred and twenty-four “spots” on two different sections of the eye, where they discovered I had a detached retina. I thought I scratched the eye with a contact lens, but was wrong. (See: lens hazard) And there I was yesterday, getting emergency treatment from VA (Veterans Administration) Hospital workers who, I believe, provide the best services in the world to needy veterans.
I sit passively, leaning back with my head comforted by the head-rest of the chair behind me. Strange. But I am at peace. Another doctor — was it the third, fourth or fifth person I spoke to? — had coated the eye with some “numbing” liquid. It spread over the eye and apparently into whatever cavity leading to the nasal section. My breathing is clearer. So are my thoughts.
Rather, the “lack“ of thoughts, as I have totally “surrendered” to these physicians, placing the outcome not only in their hands, but those of the Fates, as my ancient Greek ancestors called that Force in the Universe. “Whatever will be, will be,” Doris Day sings in my ear. It’s easy to accept something when you have absolutely no control over that something.
I pondered this as I drove earlier from one hospital to another, wondering if I would lose sight in my eye after seeing an eye doctor at Coatesville (PA) Medical Center. He called Philadelphia to set up this emergency “drill.” What’s the worst scenario, Michael? You’ll be blind in one eye, and won’t be able to see out of the other, unless you wear a contact lens. Otherwise, the world will be a blur, an unfocused, hazy collection of unfeeling objects. Kinda like some people I know who go through life never seeking help or understanding from one another.
Ok, let’s say I “lost” the eye, I thought. That’ll cut back by 50 percent the amount of money I’d need for contacts lenses. Just buy for one, not two eyes. Won’t have to worry about scratching the glass lens on the left side of my spectacles. Couldn’t see through it anyway. And, it’s not as if I would actually be “losing” the eye, replacing a natural one with an artificial one, I find myself telling a nice and kind female hospital attendant.
You could still see both of my pretty brown eyes as I smiled your way, I added. I could blink, and the eye would respond. I’d be able to look in your direction and you’d see me looking back at you with both of my happy-to-see-you “peepers.”
Don’t forget the eye patch. A cool, black patch stretched over the eye, as I would stare you down with that sinister and menacing look of the pirate, the swashbuckler, the Omar Sharif-type character that is suave and debonair. What a new look! Might lead people to believe my 100 percent disability rating with the VA was due to the loss of the eye while in combat, and not my hearing loss and/or the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) “gain.”
The drops placed on my eye immediately preceding the laser incisions seemed to spread over my whole being, bringing a calm I generally only experience while in “deep” meditation. “Doctor Will,” I address the surgeon, Daniel Will, by name. “Do the eye drops make a person feel like they’ve reached Nirvana?”
“That’s a new one,” he responds with a laugh. He mentions something about “bottling” it if the stuff really caused such an effect. I “feel” him smile at my remark. And I smile. I now know that no drug is causing me to face this medical “operation” with such an evenly peaceful acceptance on my part.
Must be the advice someone suggested I follow, and that is, to apply the self-administrated procedure of “letting go,” day after day.
It will help to improve anyone’s vision.
Want to feel good? Pick out five things each day to show your gratitude. Write ’em down. But, don’t try to fake it. You really gotta look for some thing in your life, some person, some reason that, deep down inside, you can say “makes me grateful.”
That’s a message I got from a fellow named Bill Stauffer who addressed a group of like-minded people who were seeking some spiritual insights this morning. Continue reading
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