Psst! Hey you. Yeah, the good-lookin’ one with that Spiritual Glow about ’em.
Ever seek a second opinion on how to get into heaven? No, I’m not talking about waiting until you’re dead. I mean, right “now.”
Psst! Hey you. Yeah, the good-lookin’ one with that Spiritual Glow about ’em.
Ever seek a second opinion on how to get into heaven? No, I’m not talking about waiting until you’re dead. I mean, right “now.”
It’s early morning. I hear trash trucks outside, up the street in my hometown of Conshohocken, PA, here in the United States. I “like” the sound. It reminds me that we are a civilized people. And, that I got all my trash out the night before, thus joining my neighbors in a semi-weekly ritual to make our lives cleaner, and hopefully better.
So many choices. So many books to read, words to digest. How do you know where to begin?
Each claim to have the answer, the “truth.” Each offers an inviting path to follow, a way of life that will lead to where we all want to go home.
“Whenever I interact with someone,
May I view myself as the lowest amongst all,
And, from the very depths of my heart,
Respectfully hold others as superior.”
A white cap of snow covers the head of the Buddha statue in the side yard of my Conshohocken home. Snow blankets his shoulders, his lap and that part of his robe that crosses his chest from the top left shoulder to the mid-section of the belly on the right. His arms, partial chest and kneecaps remain bare and uncovered by the snow — as if to dramatically challenge the white fluffy stuff to hide the bold charcoal black statue parts beneath.
Can I give a flower to a Buddhist?
To show the impermanence of beauty.
Revised Xmas list:
QUES: What did Buddhist want on ordering a hot dog? ANS: “One with everything.”
QUES: What did he say when asked for any change? ANS: “Change must come from within.”
Never been to a “Tea Ceremony” before. On hearing about it Sunday, I envisioned something out of “Alice in Wonderland,” with the Mad Hatter sipping a cup at a long white table, and the March Hare constantly glancing at his watch — just a bunch of silliness, per an animated movie.
For the first time in my life, I attended a Buddhist gathering knowing that I wanted to learn more about meditation and the teachings about compassion and loving kindness.
I sometimes feel that Patience waits for no man.
War is good for no one.
No one is good for war.
If you view no other video the rest of your meditative life, please see this one about Jill Bolte Taylor.
If you view no other video the rest of your meditative life, please see this one about Jill Bolte Taylor.
I hear a young voice behind me. At first, I think it was a boy. Turns out, it’s Mary Kate, a 7-year-old girl. She’s crying. Not loudly, but softly, as if she’s hurting somewhere no one can comfort her.
Meditation paid off in an unusual dividend today.
It helped me obey traffic signs, thereby avoiding a ticket I would surely have gotten on another day.  Continue reading
Opening up oneself can be hazardous to your health.
I finally did something I thought I would never do:
Look at the end of a book to see the conclusion.
Quantum Physics is something I can hardly spell, let alone learn more about.
My 10th-grade mathematics teacher whispers the horrible news: “Somebody shot the president.”
Ever wonder what life would have been like if you made different choices years earlier?
I was 19 when I felt “separated” from most of the people I hung out with and called friends. I wanted to be so much like them; not to care about such things as “love,” “compassion,” other people’s “feelings.” That was “sissy” stuff; stuff that only a “wuss” would think about. I saw these aspects of myself as a “weakness.“
Needles punctured my ears for the first time in my life this week.
Acupuncture was being offered for one free session to veterans on Veterans’ Day, and I appeared at the WON Institute in Glenside, PA, to take advantage of the procedure. The practitioner, Ed Cunningham, was kind, offering me some cheese and crackers as we made small talk and I got ready for the event.
Put a straitjacket on me.
Hide me in a padded room.
Get me away from people.
All those I can harm by PTSD.
Was it Gertrude Stein, the early 20th-century poet and writer, who said, ” There was no ‘there’ there?“
Could we not be on a path, but in a circle?
No beginning? No end? Only now!
Continue readingMeditation rewarded me with what Buddhists call “Nothing” at the end of a traumatic day Saturday.
I was at a conference involving brain injuries when I noticed on the day-long schedule that mindfulness meditation would be “discussed” for survivors and their caregivers at Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia, PA. Unable to talk my loved one into “taking” a “seat,” I went alone, and was surprised to see so many of the newly acquired friends I had just made while attending previous workshops earlier in the day
Continue readingFirst photos from Greece appeared on my Blog today. They were photographed from the Aegean Sea port off the tiny volcano island of Nysiros, which boasts all of four small fishing villages.
Having more than an hour before getting breakfast, I wondered whether I should write something or seek refuge in a “sitting meditation.”
Continue readingUnable to curb my road rage today, I finally grasped a thread of my PTSD and traced it back to its source.
Bumping into the wall and walking to the edge of a swimming pool with eyes firmly shut is not the best way to do a Walking Meditation.
Continue readingClose your eyes, and you might see.
See the weightlessness that your body becomes as you float on the waters of a nearby spa.
Ever learn about yourself while giving heartfelt advice to someone else?
My kid served as a mirror this morning, as I discussed why he should not quit on his “tech” teacher at school.
It ain’t easy admitting that you, the parent, may need the same sage advice as the child. Worse yet, is trying to reason with a 17-year-old. They are so smart, they know practically everything to know in this world.
Here’s a Little Food for Thought:
Why is text messaging confined only to a hand-held devise?
Continue reading
How do you say you’re sorry to a people whose country you bombed in the name of peace and democracy?
What words can you use after saying that you are personally sorry for the Vietnam War and the mistakes our government made some 40 years ago?
Continue readingI rushed to a finish line and cheated myself. I thought I could complete the course as quickly as possible to move on to the next life event. But it took me but a moment to realize my mistake.
I had cheated myself of real improvement, real growth and I now know that the true challenge in life lies in the smallest detail. Continue reading
You got it Sweetheart!
PTSD is what this Vietnam War veteran is talking about.
I felt someone had thrown water at my face, had “hit me upside my head” and looked me dead in the eye demanding my fullest attention. Have I been squandering away my life?
She was depressed, they said, when she took the life of her three-year-old son. Then . . . she committed suicide, leaving a note for her husband and the child’s father.
God damn it. I forgot the lead I wanted to write here.
It was on the tip of my tongue (pen, key board key, etc.), and Christ, I lost it.
Continue readingI offered to help some people today whose car had broken down.
Also learned that offering a helping hand sometimes is not enough.
When I want to (need to?) quiet the chatter inside of me, I play a little music in my head — sort of like a mantra — that becomes a lullaby for the Mind.
How the hell did I end up here, this empty place where no one can see me, touch me, or, more importantly, hear me?
Why am I locked up, away from the world outside this jar-like existence. Who did I piss off? What was my grievous sin?
I must go.
And so, I simply say Goodbye.
I blame the Most Powerful Force in the Universe for not using its Almighty Abilities to stop war dead in its tracks.
Sometimes, it works. But sometimes it tears into my psyche, bringing with it a fear that this discomfort, this thorn will continue to haunt me, raising its head more and more as I feel the aging process more keenly and with it, an unwanted sense of my mortality, my deterioration and the inevitable end that I will someday meet. When the pain increases and I can’t steer my mind away from it, I know deep inside that the end is not so very far away!
My favorite store greeter told me she wanted to smoke grass before turning 60.
Why not study art, writing, or some other esoteric topic? I asked.
No, she said, “I have never smoked marijuana before.”
The bird recognized me out of more than a hundred people sitting at tables eating breakfast.
I had not noticed until after I had gotten my free breakfast, sat down, and began munching half of a piece of bacon. I chewed and chewed and methodically relished the taste with my eyes closed and my mind “forced“ to stay “in the moment.”
I felt calm and “in tune” as I glanced up, feeling that I had just been watched, was still being observed, being singled out.
You can’t know how much pleasure there is in feeding a squirrel until you open yourself to the wonders of nature . . . and of course . . . feed a squirrel . . . daily.
Eating sausage in the morning helps me “Be in the Moment.”
I dine at an IKEA store in Conshohocken, PA, the North American headquarters for the Swedish furniture company. It offers a restaurant serving good food for prices that beat the costs of diners and even fast-food places. (99 cents for scrambled eggs, home fries, and a choice of bacon or sausage. Coffee is free from 9:30 to 10 a.m. with refills.