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 readingSLOW DOWN!
I believe that is what the Universe is telling me as I have gotten older and time has caught up with this aging body that – for the life of me – can’t physically handle everyday chores and activities I routinely completed some six months ago.
Slow down. Yes, you are getting tired when you ascend the steps to get into your Conshohocken home and then many more steps to get to your second-floor bathroom and/or main bedroom. So, take a break. You have nothing to prove or to “carry-on” as us veterans used to say while serving in the military.
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Continue readingI will be participating this Sunday in a gathering sponsored by a group presenting a woman I have followed for more than 10 years on a spiritual journey. Lorna Byrne is a woman from Ireland who has been seeing and speaking with angels since she was two years old and written several books on how we can open ourselves to the angelic realm that exists for our benefit.
Continue readingReflections opened a new world of understanding today. Years after a traumatic event, I can look back and see things in a totally different and healing fashion.
I couldn’t do it when the shit was happening. It hurt too much.
Even five or ten years after the trauma, I’d get sweaty palms and a sped-up heartbeat when thinking about the worst day of my life. I couldn’t dwell for too long without having to relive the God-awful experience.  Continue reading
Who am I? What do I believe? And can I name a few of my beliefs?
Let me name a few things I believe about myself. They’re in no particular order.  Continue reading
I believe that all of us are placed on this earth for a purpose, and the aim for us in life is to find out what that purpose is!
We don’t usually seek the answer right away. Most put it off until some calamity forces us to find answers to life’s most important questions. Why am I here? Why am I in this body? Who am I, really?  Continue reading
If you haven’t tried it, you ought to Google “EFT” and see if such a technique could help with whatever might ail you today!
I grew when meeting four people on Monday who helped me expand my consciousness in ways I had never known existed before. Someone introduced me to the Fifth Dimension, while another invited me to a New Age exhibition in Bucks County, where light-workers of all shapes and sizes would introduce newbies like me to new and exciting pathways to Nirvana. Continue reading
Much of what I know about war was what I learned while playing as a kid. You know, using a stick or a broken branch from a tree, I’d pretend it was a rifle to shoot the bad guys who were out to get me and the rest of the good guys in my old neighborhood.  Continue reading
Listen to what the Universe is saying. It may speak to you in ways you might not understand unless you’re open to all means of communication. 
I personally try to go with the flow. For instance, I planned to take money out of a fund created for my son more than 20 years ago to pay for four new tires on his car. They cost more than a thousand dollars. I called the firm that held his stocks and had obtained the necessary paperwork to sell off 30 stocks to get $1,200.
I misplaced the paperwork and no matter where I looked for it, I couldn’t find it.
Opening to the Universe needs to be practiced daily!
I believe that I am being told by forces around me and within me that use of my son’s savings is not the source to get the money. I’m listening to something that is more than just a coincidence. It is a guidance, a nudge into a direction other than the one I had planned to go.
I’m listening to the Universe. And I’ll seek a different avenue for the accomplishment of my task.
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It can be as simple as that. But only if you open your true self to listening in different ways!
Listen. You can Hear the Universe Speak if You but Let It . . .
If you didn’t know it by now, science supports the claims made by Abraham about the Law of Attraction and how it could help revitalize your life from this moment on.
That’s the word I got attending a workshop when a physicist met with Esther Hicks and explained how aligning with the Source, rather than resisting it, is based on the law of physics. “We knew that” Abraham said, speaking through Esther Hicks. Undaunted, the young man of science said that he realized it only after studying what the law prescribes for all mankind.
Align yourself with what you truly want in life and keep positive thoughts on achieving your heart’s desire. If you can imagine the happiness your achievement will provide, start with feeling that happiness now. Don’t wait for a result. Feel it in your gut, your marrow, your very soul. 
“It will come to you sooner than later. And by following a path of least resistance, it will manifest all that sooner.”
The young man, a native of India, had appeared at the Vortex, a meeting workshop held in Philadelphia this past weekend. He wanted the entire world to know that the Law of Attraction is scientifically based, particularly his fellow scientists, most of whom doubt anything they can’t prove with equations and mathematical formulas.
“They will be more open to what you have to offer,” he said from the “Hotseat” while addressing Esther Hicks.
Abraham said the message about the Source of Energy is for everyone, and not just a few numbers of scientists who accept these truths only inch by inch and move ever so slowly in the process of assimilation. “My message is for the many and not just the few,” Abraham said through Esther Hicks.
I felt blessed to be among the many to hear those words. Now all I have to do is apply them while learning more of this offering from the Source.
That’s the advice that Abraham offered to a young woman who was called to the stage to question the Spirits about issues she was facing on Saturday. She was among some 15 people who shared the “Hot Seat” at the Renaissance Hotel near Philadelphia’s International Airport for a workshop.
The message resonated with me and I hope everyone of the more than 500 in attendance took it in and will try the 15-minute exercise once a day to see how easier it can be to get in touch with the Source energy within.
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:
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
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.
What gifts can I offer the world today? What insight, wisdom, or thought could I bestow on others seeking the healing we need for our mutual pain and suffering?
I am no psychic. I’ve never seen an angel or felt the tingling sensation from a spirit wanting to use me to provide a message or a sign. I’m no medium. 
And yet, I feel that the one gift I have is something that all of us possess once we humble ourselves and seek peace and tranquility inside.
I offer you Love. A love from the bottom of my heart, from my very being. It’s a love that was implanted in me at the start of this current lifetime. It’s a love the Divine kept hidden until I was ready to see His energy in all things.
It is part of the same love that created this world, this universe, this reality.
It is the love that sustains us and will continue to offer blessings to all who are open to its redeeming nature.
Accept this love. It’s really not mine. You see, it’s on loan. I get to keep but a small portion as I give most of it away. Once you feel and accept this love, I get it all back and then some.
All I need do is still myself and go within with the overriding intent to bestow love on you and all of those you come into contact with, causing a rippling effect to bring happiness to all sentient beings. Please pass on this love and be the channel for it to flow. You’ll get the gift of love back before the day is done.
Smile and enjoy the feeling of love glowing inside . . .
Now, give it away and use whatever psychic powers you’ve developed to help bring about a better world, a higher sense of being one with the universe.
This quote from the famous Greek of antiquity, Hippocrates, could be the basis for a new Golden Rule for the Road.  Continue reading
Seeds planted in the 1960s have flowered, and the Age of Aquarius has finally dawned on the world, awakening many of us to a new way of living, a new way of forgiving. The first signs of this new enlightenment began in the 1990s as the Berlin Wall fell, God revealed secrets in the Celestial Prophecy, and the mystical Wisdom of Kabbalah was made known to non-Jews and all women, regardless of age or religious backgrounds. 
New Age dabblers learned from old age philosophers about the true meaning of life — to Know, Love and Serve God by serving each other.
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JOIN IN. OPEN UP. FEEL FREE!
We found the divine through our science.
Quantum Physics showed that our world is constantly in flux — that it is totally impermanent — yet cooperating every second with each other “individual” part making us all one whole healthy body.
We are aware now that consciousness connects everything thing in the universe and is in everything in the universe.
It is our duty and our honor now to share that with the rest of humanity. Our goal will be to help them remove the ignorance that nationhood instills in conformity. We will facilitate their “Awakening to the Wisdom they have Within.” Offer all compassion through guidance and a big welcome when they, too, realize that all we need is love. Love is all we ever needed now and forever amen.
Listen to the Voice of a Mystic. His madness may just resonate with the Divine in You!
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.
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.
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)
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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.
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!
A spirit touched me today. Or, rather, the spirit touched the pair of jeans I had worn the day before and left on a chair after removing them before going to sleep. When I awoke and put the jeans back on, I got the surprise of my life.
You see, I lost my keys yesterday. I have three keys on a large D-ring that is attached to a loop of the jeans where a belt runs through it. The keys were missing yesterday. I didn’t notice it until bundling up and hiking up the hill to get to my car, where my son had parked it the night before.
“Uh oh,” I said and added a curse word or two. I left my keys in the house.
Back I trudged, getting perturbed at my absent-mindedness. Inside the house, I searched the coffee table where I usually place the keys, but they were missing. Searching the floor and the crevices of the sofa where the cushions separate turned up nary a clue.
I looked in the dining room, the foyer, and even the two bathrooms, but could not locate the missing keys. I even searched the refrigerator and the stove to see if I might have dropped them there.
Eventually, I borrowed a set of keys from my son. He had been using the spare car key, and I went up the hill, fetched the car, and drove to the front of the house to wait for him to take him to work. (I had already searched the car, and my son and I both searched the front lawn, the pavement, and the steps leading up to the house.
Keys were nowhere to be found. Not even in the trash cans I had put out for collection the night before. Could I have dropped them in one of the cans? I might have, I thought.)
With a clearer mind, I decided to do something about my plight. I called a Nissan car repair shop and ordered a new key made. It cost me a hundred dollars. I would still have to get new key-ring cards for the supermarkets and pharmacies, as well as an LA Fitness card and two library cards I use regularly.
The keys manifested back on my jeans the next day. I couldn’t believe it! They were not on the pant loop the day before. I would have felt them when I pulled at the loop. I would have heard them when sitting at a dining table when they collide with a chair. My son — I call him “Eagle Eye” — would have seen them.
They vanished. Twenty-four hours later, they returned.
I don’t know how this all happened.
Nor do I have any explanations for it.
I’m not a nut. I’m not crazy. But something scientists call the “non-ordinary” occurred to me. I’ve been “touched.” By whom or by what, I can’t say, but I believe it is a good source, a good spirit, I f you will.
Now all I have to do is allow those keys to open the door to who knows what my next life’s adventure will be. I hope to have a lot of fun, and I’ll report back to you!
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
I am looking for the type of cover for my latest book, my son. It tells of a Mystical Journey I embarked upon several months ago, arriving in Ithaca, New York, for a three-day retreat. There, I met a teacher who explained how I could understand my life and its meaning.
Provide a cover for this book, Nicholas. And I’ll publish it for the entire New World to see the Spirit of ancient Greece come alive once again. Let my Muse inspire others to see words and to hear voices of comfort and hope to and for the three times.
“Ithaca Mystical Insights” is what I will call it. I’ll tell the tale of a seeker lost for some 20 years fighting a war that doesn’t seem to end until he leaves the enemy’s land and re-enter his gates in a different form. Following war, he’ll search for meaning over land and sea trying to return home to Ithaca and the security he believes it will provide.
The protagonist doesn’t find his way until discovering answers as so many wanderers do. You’ll read about more battles, more glorious adventures as well as loves surfacing on the open seas. He never loses sight, however, of the main goal — and that is to discover the truth and the meaning of life.
Provide me the cover and I will open this book for all to see. The hero promises to shed his amour and never to go back to war, thus ensuring all new adventures will take place only in my mind.
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(For a look at an excerpt of the book, see https://contoveros.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/ithaca-insights-serve-up-peace-calm/
Simply knowing that I wrote a book is one helluva experience.
Seeing it on Amazon.com is breathtaking! Continue reading
“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
That’s the key to a happy life, you know. Learning to serve others selflessly with no expectation of a reward other than the knowledge you are doing unto others something you’d want them to do . . . unto everyone else.
It’s a different version of the Golden Rule, which I always thought had some sort of tit for tat attached. “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you” is one of the versions I remember growing up in a Christian household. My father was Greek Orthodox, and my mother Catholic. Mom had her way; she was in cahoots with the parish priest, and my dad actually “did unto others” but never saw any of his sons “do unto him” by following the Orthodox path. Well, there are always the grandchildren, right nephews Joe, Michael, and Rocky, and let’s not forget Nick, as well as any we don’t know about who may have entered this country out of wedlock.
No, serving others is just like serving yourself. You want to end all the suffering in your own life, and the best way to start is to turn your focus away from your woes and zero in on all others, all the ones you might have the least bit of contact with or upon, and can do something, even the slightest thing to make them more comfortable, less tense, and feeling that at least one person out of 8 billion really does care.
I didn’t know it, until “awakening” during a three-day retreat in Ithaca, NY, when the veil of illusion was slowly removed from my eyes and I saw like a Mystic. It’s no big deal. I view things as I believe they should be, not the way they are. My goal in life is to try my best to get others to see things this way, the ideal reality, and not the conventional or illusory way.
Insight showed me that I have served others one way or another in most of my adult life. It showed in the jobs I held, the positions I sought to take for a “Right Livelihood;” the beliefs I adopted while discarding bits and pieces of what didn’t “feel right” or those I might not be ready to fully adopt at this moment.
I worked as a printer when I was 18 years old. I studied the trade while in high school, and learned what is called the “offset process.” It has to do with oil and water not mixing and how ink, an oil-based substance, would somehow adhere to another substance. I can’t tell you what waters got to do with it, but I think one washes away the other, and an image that had been burned into a metal plate “grasps” the ink while all mass around the image or “type” is washed away. What is conveyed to paper is what you see: Black Ink on a white background.
I was pretty good at developing negatives for burning images into plates. I could make a plate with just the right amount of muscle, rubbing the flat metal not to tire myself out. When the plate was completed, my job ended. The plate would be sent to a “pressman” (or woman) who’d adjust it into the large printing presses and run off a couple of hundred thousand copies of something or other. (Actually, I think plates at that time were only good for tens of thousands of copies, but who’s counting?)
Someone was expected to read the printed matter. A copywriter created a series of words and graphic arts to draw the attention of a reader. (I worked as a copy-writer for a short time and I know I tried to “serve” the consuming public who’d be choosing between one product and another for an acquisition. I also “served” my boss in providing him with the best job I could.)
(This is an excerpt from the first book I wrote, still unpublished, called “Ithaca Incites Mystical Insights.”)
Printing has always been a two-way street in my book. You engage in one effort for the benefit of another. Take the patron saint of the printing press, a German fellow named Gutenberg. If it weren’t for him, the Christian bible would never have been distributed so widely, thereby helping all people. (Actually, Western Civilization only. The East was doing pretty well without having to suffer through such growing pains as the “Dark Ages.”)
I provided a service, and I felt fulfilled in doing my small part.
Ithaca insights incite a Mystic to write inspirational illogical idioms!
It is truly “better to give, and not receive,” particularly when it costs so little to bring about such great joy in anther’s life. That joy starts out as a tiny smile that barely breaks through into a smile until the truly needy accepts the small offering and whispers a thank you. Even if you give anonymously as most of us do, we can use our imaginations to “visualize” the reception our gift is greeted with. Sneakers will fit and the poor can give away or throw out the ones filled with holes. That little dress will look great on my 6-year-old; Tommy can play catch with the baseball (or glove); we can have heat in our apartment for another month.
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I expected to try to get through the day today without my morning cup of meditation offering from Deepak & Oprah. I figured the 21-day journey had ended yesterday, August 31st. Yet today, the American holiday called “Labor Day,” they gave us a gift — an extra day. And boy, did I need it. Continue reading
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.”
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.
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.
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.
———–
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 . . .
I’m down to just two more days now . . . Two more days in which to become enlightened through the 21-Day Meditation Experience of Deepak & Oprah. Today is the 20th Day. Tomorrow, I’m afraid, it will end for me and you.
No matter what happens, though, I’ve been exposed to what Buddhists call the Dharma. That is, the “teachings” of meditation by Siddhartha Gotama, the person most of us call the “Buddha.”
It reminds me of a story I heard recently.
It’s about a Frog.
The frog lived in the time of Siddhartha, at a time when the young man from Nepal had become an enlightened one. The Buddha was teaching a small group of followers at the banks of the Gaggara lotus pond when the frog heard his voice and wanted to get closer. The Buddha sat cross-legged in what would one day be called the “lotus position.”
The little critter moved from one spot in the pond to another and could just about see the teacher. Still, the frog wanted to get even closer so that he could hear about the cessation of suffering, which we have come to know as the “Third Noble Truth.”
When the frog hopped out and landed on dry land, where he sat, legs behind his squishy little frog-like body, and took in the words being freely offered by this wonderful holy man.
A farmer from a nearby house then approached. He was a cowherd who also wanted to hear what was being said in his native country of India. But as he approached the speaker, the cowherd focused not on the ground where he was walking, but on Siddhartha.
Anyone listening to Dharma today can become enlightened!
—-
Leaning on his crook, he crushed the poor frog that lay beneath him. As a result, the frog died and was reborn in the realm of the:
“Thirty-Three with a twelve-yojana gold Mansion [vimana] and [was] attended by nymphs,”
according to reports published in a Dharma book.
—-
That’s not the end of the story, however.
—-
As the frog became a god, he reflected on what deeds he had done to deserve all of this. That’s what he realized that it was simply his attraction to the Buddha’s voice, his brief exposure to the Dharma that did it!
Then the frog came down to the Buddha and honored him.
Who, bright with psychic potency and entourage, with surpassing beauty making all the quarters effulgent, is honoring my feet?”
Then the frog (now a God!) explained:
I was formerly a frog, a water-denizen. But while I was listening to your Dhamma a (young) cowherd killed me.
For a moment’s serenity of mind, behold my psychic potency and entourage and behold my majesty, beauty, and behold my brightness.
Those who for long have heard your Dharma, Gautama, it is they who have attained the unmoving place where they who go grieve not.
After this, the frog became stream-entered, that is, he became a Noble Hearer. After honoring the Buddha, the god (our friend the frog) returned to his celestial world.
(For more on the frog, please go to the site where I gleaned much of this Dharma story known as the Zennist Typepad.
I am hot. I feel like I have a fever . . . A fever that pulses through me for the past several weeks. It seems this fever entered my bloodstream just about the same time as I started doing twice-a-day meditations with Deepak and Oprah for a 21-day Meditation Experience. Writing in the journal has added to the mix.
Wherever possible, I have gone into my treasure bank of some 600 articles I wrote to offer my take on a question or two that I had handled before. It’s amazing how meditation has been a constant in my life and remains the only real permanent fixture we can count on.
Buddhists believe that all things are constantly in flux and are changing day by day, hour by hour, and minute by minute. There is “impermanence” in this world, the Buddha said. When I can finally realize that deep in my core, then I’ll be enlightened.
I believe the heat or warm feeling washing over me is pure energy. Meditation has energized my battery after forcing it to rest in a calm state where it could fill up with love and compassion. This energy gets increased once I start to touch on it and offer it to others, be it through a thought or a deed.
So, I became twice blessed with it. Once when the source dictates what it wants to pass through me – it’s a frail and overheated conduit – and secondly, when I write and then edit the offerings for public consumption. I get more out of giving more.
Our Shamanic Journey to the Lower World
I couldn’t wait for the instructor to finish her directions for my latest journey to the lower world. As soon as I closed my eyes, I felt a presence come into my awareness. I could hear my Reiki teacher, Angie, talking in her special “guide’s” voice, and I knew that my good friend Melanie was as attentive as I was the first time this Shamanic guide talked me into seeing a new reality, a new world.
Melanie sat on the couch to my right. We had already shared our brief journeys into the Middle World, the one that exists now on this plane. We were joyous to discover we both pictured the bright, bold red cardinal as our favorite animal. On top of that, however, red foxes had approached us as spirit guides.
Melanie, who has had to struggle as a caregiver for her father, who passed away slightly more than a year ago, had only recently placed her grandmother into a nursing home when Melanie had struck bottom and sought help to save herself from drowning. Several of her father’s dearest friends interceded and rescued Melanie, ushering the grandmother into an emergency entrance of a nearby assisted living facility.
Melanie’s fox led her to a wolf, and took off, leaving the poor child without saying goodbye. On awakening from this journey, she felt grief occupying her Throat Chakra and parts of her psyche.
My fox was a “wanderer,” helping a vixen here, and a horse there, while never staying in one place too long before seeking some new adventure, some new mystical experience wherever his heart would take him.
But my visit to the Lower World was something I never expected, and it goes to show you that when you have “no expectations,” someone’s will that you’re placing your own will in does not disappoint you.
I didn’t mean to begin my journey as soon as my eyes closed. But a creature from a previous dream entered my consciousness. I had dreamed of this wonderful being some three years ago when writing down all of my dreams religiously over a 6-week period. In the dream, a figure much like the mythical “Puff the Magic Dragon” had visited me. But he appeared as no fictional character, but one our earth had seen hundreds of thousands of years ago.
My totem for this latest journey was none other than “Little Foot,” the long-neck dinosaur, also known as a Brontosaurus as well as an Apatosaurus. He took me swimming and diving in the ocean as I held onto him and rode him bareback. In my dream, I clung to this, the largest of all the prehistoric animals, as he made his way into the water and then out of it, somehow climbing into the air as if he could fly.
We became airborne for just a short time before submerging again and splashing in the refreshing water, giggling and laughing as the best of friends, man and beast, kids at heart.
There was no time for surface contacts, however. As Angie continued to softly speak to me and Mel, I plunged into the water. It was a clear, fresh, and bubbling area of water. My dinosaur friend was fully in charge. I knew not where we were headed, but felt I was on another adventure.
Down and down, we went, my eyes wide open and hair wildly drifting from one side to the other as we would twist and turn around the sea structures and sea animals, none of which lingered for long in our sights. We passed coral and rock formations and hundreds of different colored fish, all seemingly aware of our visit to their part of the world.
Too soon, we slowed as the dinosaur pulled up straight, ending what seemed like hours of descent. There, just below me, was a domed city. It was all in gold. It sparkled and shone in the air that was trapped inside this huge globe-like, clear structure. Our view was unobstructed. I saw streets and pavements, as well as houses of various sizes, shapes, and widths.
But there were no people. The city seemed to have been there for the longest of times, existing long before civilization as we know it came into being. It had an air of wisdom and knowledge about it, as if the basic rocks, wood, stones, and trees were alive and full of answers to anyone who could pose the right question to them.
I wanted to enter. So did my traveling companion. But no sooner had we come into the presence of this magnificent city, we knew it was time to go.
I don’t remember much after this. A walrus with long tusks came into our vision. “Goo-goo-achoo,” I felt like singing to him in the language of the Beatles. He, too, was wise. Maybe he was the doorman or watchman at the entrance to the “globed city” beneath the sea.
He guided us away from the city and upwards toward the waterway above. Soon, he too left us on our own. But not for long, we were then joined by a group of professional sharks. I felt they were more professional than I thought it. They were of the lawyer class of sharks. Very efficient, very logical, and very uncaring for anything but their targeted prey.
I enjoyed their company and just as we were about to swap war stories of courtroom intrigue and shenanigans, I heard drumming in the far distance. The thumping drew my attention, and it pulled me away from the sharks, the water, and my good friend the dinosaur. I re-entered the land of “Now. “Upon describing my vision, Angie said I had journeyed to the Lost City of Atlantis, the magical land spoken of by Plato, the Greek philosopher who always dealt with facts, never fiction.
Was he calling me to the city? Were my father’s ancestors somehow interceding with the powers of Poseidon to gain me entrance to this wonder or wonders? Who knows. Maybe more will follow in my next Shamanic Journey.
We introduced a new understanding of hope today. We want to build a sense of hope that is a force of change that comes from a feeling of certainty and well-being within, rather than an anxious kind of hope that vaguely wishes for things to turn out well. Write about an experience you may have had with this stronger kind of hope. – Deepak Chopra (Day 6 — Feeling Hope)
I don’t think you can have a future or any type of “end product” without hope. I see hope more as a process, a living force that flows from day-to-day, hour by hour, and minute by minute. We hope for something that will come into existence in some future time. Yet the feeling we get through the act of hope occurs in the present.
It’s like living. No, it is living, which is living in the present moment while expending energy in a real certainty that there will be answers for what we hope for tomorrow. For instance, I hope to publish a book. Actually, I have five books in which I hope to publish over the next several months. That’s ten hopeful wishes, so to speak. I am in the process of self-publishing, and I hope to obtain an end product sometime later this year.
My hope is that the books will be well-received and, more importantly, that someone reads them. I hope that they will inspire others and reveal truths that I’ve learned through a mystical journey I started some six years ago. That’s when I retired from “regular” work, and I found my true passion in writing. I like to say that I traded in a legal career to return to a writing one, this time, not as a newspaper reporter, but a reporter on and about life!
Since September 2009, I had hoped that I could offer as much compassion and love as the monsignor did at my Uncle Dominick‘s funeral. Uncle Dom was the last surviving blood relative from either of my parents’ sides. He was the baby of the family and had babysat me when I was sent to my grandmother’s house to avoid any harm. My mother, Dom’s half-sister, had suffered from postpartum depression, and I was shipped off to Mays Landing, NJ, from Philadelphia, PA, to prevent any danger to me and to provide the much-needed help for my frail and sickly mother.
Did someone see some hope in me? I like to think that Grandma Hagel did. Whenever someone asked me if I knew who provided me with unconditional love, I automatically think of her. Yet, I remember very little about her. I guess there was (is) a feeling about the times I had contact with her that lends itself to such an impression.
Uncle Dom was the quiet type. He served in the navy during World War II and “inherited” Grandma’s house after he got married and began raising his own children. He married one of the toughest women I have ever encountered, Aunt Frances. She was the bossy type who always seems to control every situation. And if she couldn’t control it, she found a way to influence it by getting to the guy or girl in charge!
I got hope for my spiritual path when the cleric at Uncle Dom’s funeral butchered Aunt Frances’ name. No one messed with Aunt Frances, and I took it as a sign for a drastic change in my life. I figured that I was as spiritual as that priest, and that I could prove it.
Of course, I had meditated for more than a year, having learned mindfulness meditation in a Veterans Administration clinic and at a weekly meditation session with a Zen teacher. Hope infused in me after I prayed for Uncle Dom, meditated, and rose to the standing position with the others in the church. We stood to exit the pew where we had been either seated or were kneeling. It was time to receive Holy Communion.
Communion is something I can’t receive anymore. You see, I got married “outside” the church, and I would have to get a dispensation from the pope or get remarried “in” the church to take on that sacrament. It is one of the worst sins the Catholic Church has imposed on its faithful, and I’m sure it has driven out — and is still keeping out — many Catholics who are good people. These are people like me who had simply met other good folks of different religious backgrounds and agreed to accept the spouse’s choice of where to get married.
I got married in a Presbyterian Church by a Methodist minister named Michele Wright Bartlow, the sister of my soon-to-be wife, the former Wendy Wright.
I hope that someday a pope like Pope Francis will grant a blanket absolution for those of us who chose to say our marriage vows somewhere other than in a Catholic church. I’d “go back” to the church if he waved a magic wand and said all was forgiven. I would be able to receive communion again and not have to pretend like I did during the funeral for Uncle Dom.
————–
So, I marched backward and then made my way around the church, checking out some of the statues on display at various sections of the House of God. My hope was that no one would take offense, and from what I noticed, no one did. No one has ever commented about it, and I guess my hope helped to create a happy ending of sorts.
I became more spiritual and have not really looked back except to reflect on how far along this path a sinner like me has been able to travel. See, there is hope for everybody if they seek it out. It freed me up to write, and I haven’t stopped since that fateful day.
Stay tuned for more hope in tomorrow’s post. That’s when I’ll try to “wright a wrong“, so to speak. Or just click the post at right below.)
Despite always having a smile on my lips and a laugh at my tongue, I found it hard to think of anything to write about for the latest meditation round for Oprah and Deepak. That is, until I picked up my son at work this evening and we joked and laughed until I almost did you know what in my pants. It hurt so much that I started crying, that’s how good it was and how great it felt to just let it all come out in front of one of his 22-year-old buddies and our 25-year-old female traveling companion.
I took off from Planet Earth this morning. It all happened when Deepak Chopra pushed a button inside of me, using the words “transcend” and “Higher Levels of Consciousness.” Continue reading
Fuzzy was a Fuzz Ball that wanted to give love to whoever he met. It all started when he felt a point in the heart materialize, and a wish to bestow came over him.
He’d give love here, there, just about everywhere, every day to everybody he came into contact with. After all, he had thousands of tiny fuzz balls to give away. He’d pluck ‘em from his round little body and pass them on, trying to ease pain here, create a smile there. Continue reading
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
Sometimes the only way for me to understand something is to try to put it into my own words. Particularly, if I want to memorize or “imprint” something so that I can keep it near and dear to me, like an inspirational poem or saying I still remember from my earliest days.
And so, thanks to the kindness of WordPress, I will use my meager intellect to place into words something my heart has tried to understand and permit to grow from one lifetime to another. It is the Four Truths that can enable those noble among us to overcome what is wrong in our lives, and we can set things right.
The First is the basic truth that there is much of life that is plainly unsatisfactory.
I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but I sometimes feel an uncomfortableness, an irritation that goes away temporarily, but returns too soon, too often. Some people call it “suffering.” They say, “There is suffering.”
Wise men and women thousands of years ago called the suffering “Dukkha,” a Sanskrit word which roughly means “unsatisfactory,” or better yet, “incapable of satisfying.” I liken its meaning to the old Rolling Stones song of the 1960s, with the words by Mick Jagger screaming his truth to the world:
Suffering and dukkha can be understood.
Once I achieve this, I can say I understand suffering and dukkha.
The Second Truth is that there is a Cause for this dukkha, and that is attachment to desires.
Desires in and of themselves are all right. It’s my clinging to them at all costs that causes the harm, the dissatisfaction, or suffering. Desires can be let go of. When this happens, I can say I have let go of desires.
The Third Noble Truth is that there can be a “cessation” of suffering or feeling unsatisfied.
This cessation can be realized. Once I have experienced this cessation, I can say that I have fully realized it.
That leads me to the Fourth Noble Truth, and that is that suffering and its cause can end if I follow a certain path.
That path is called the “Middle Way” between the extremes of pain and pleasure. I can aspire to follow 8 guidelines, called by some sages as the “Eight-Fold Path.” The first two “practices” call for wisdom, while the next three deal with a form of morality, and the third group, concentration.
I can develop wisdom through understanding, the right understanding of the way things are, and not the way my unenlightened mind usually sees them. It helps me to always have the right attitude, or right intention toward things, events, and what scientists call phenomena.
As far as morality goes, I should simply have “Right Speech,” “Right Action,” and “Right Livelihood.” Don’t curse too much, don’t slander anyone, don’t lie or gossip. Act upon the maxim that whatever you do in life, you are approving everyone else to do, according to Emmanuel Kant, one of my favorite philosophers, I recall from my college days. It’s the same action that Jesus said: “Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you.”
And right livelihood means that I should be careful in choosing a career that doesn’t involve gun-running, moonshining, or trading nuclear secrets to terrorists. Don’t work in a field that could endanger or kill some being, man or beast.
The next three deal with the focus and reflection of life, and how we can enable the noble truths to act within us and to us.
All will help uncover insight from within. You can use whatever words you like or feel comfortable with.
Use mine if they help. I got them from others whose purpose in life was, and still is, to help bring a certain enlightenment to everybody while we are here, just being the loving kindness and compassion we want for everybody.
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 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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
I am a shapeshifter. I’ve developed the ability over the past five years to shift from one form to another by simply manipulating my mind to do the bidding of my higher self. 
You see, there are two of “me” inside of this shell of a body. There’s the “me” created by my ego, also known as “my mind,” and there’s also the “non-me,” the one that surfaces when the mind is gone. It is this entity, one that is pure consciousness, that takes over when the mind stops all of its thought processes.
The true spirit or energy mass that’s within me is always there, always in the present. I can’t connect to it when that part of “me” is dominant. I fail to be aware of the energy, the spirit’s existence. By halting and stopping my thoughts, however, the consciousness “arises” and takes over. Forms of all shapes and sizes come into focus. A flower, a tree . . . the wind on my face . . . the smell of garlic . . . the softness of a woman’s hand across my brow.
If consciousness did not exist in the present, none of these forms would exist either. Think about it! If a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound? Well, we know you have two parts to such an auditory phenomenon. If there is no one to hear sound, then you cannot have sound. If your consciousness is not present, then you cannot have . . . well, fill in the blank.
And, if your consciousness is always being placed on hold by the mind that always wants to think up reasons, excuses and answers to something for the future or from the past, then the forms that exist in front of our eyes, within the earshot of our hearing, the taste of the mouth, the smell of the nose, the touch of a hand, then how can we say they truly exist? Yes, a flower will appear to our senses, but our thoughts will not include its beauty, its texture, its “poetic-ness,” so to speak.
Fear, anxiety, and depression cannot exist in the present without the support, nay, perhaps the “leading role” played by the mind. Just think. You stop thinking, and you stop the worry, the confusion, the lack of wholesome goodness inside of you. Without your mind insisting that you continually think of something, that thing will eventually disappear, diminish, or slide off the radar screen.
All you need to do is place your awareness like a laser beam onto one of your five senses. Focus as if your life depended on it. Life in the present moment does depend on you living in the present, sans thoughts of any kind, sans the emotions that go with the thoughts, whether we like them or not. Thoughts trap us, entice us to cling to them, to always be grasping for their contents, their so-called can’t-live-without-them ideas, concepts, and a whatnot or two.
So, I shape shift. I will my inner being to focus on my breath, my five senses, and to stay fixed there for as long as it takes for the mind to quiet down, come to rest, and hibernate. The present opens to me like a flower. I “shape” the moment like the observer shaping reality in a particle/wave shape-shifting quantum physics laboratory experiment.
Now, I am more in the moment than I have ever been, with thoughts of the moment, which, incidentally, never really existed.
You can’t “think” of the moment, the present. You lose it as soon as you call forth the idea. By the time it is “formed,” time has passed you by. The present has long gone. You’re someplace other than that present moment when your mind thought it could pin the present down to the now. Now is gone from the mind’s eye, as soon as the mind starts to eye it through the thought process.
It’s the “thought-less process” you need to be in and recognize the present. You have to “feel” it, experience it, live it. You’ll love it more and more as you return to it.
Just think about it. Now, stop. Be it. Be in the now right now.
The thought of going to prison never bothered me. I’d survive and flourish behind bars, where I’d have more than enough time to reflect and write which I have found is my true love in life.
No, I could kill without worrying about the consequences. It would be my first offense. I am certified as a Vietnam veteran with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I don’t see any judge or jury putting me to death for the crime.
All of this went through my mind when I was waiting at the train platform, and a rather tall, white guy walked in front of me. I was standing near the tracks. I was close enough and in line with others standing on either side of me that I never thought someone could make their way between me and the tracks. But the man did. He walked around me. He stood directly in front of me. No one else stood that close. I recall thinking how totally inappropriate and rude his actions were.
I know how to kill, having been trained in the infantry and as a parachutist who learned not to care about pain. I got used to it, and bared up under it so many times, it became almost second nature to welcome it during a new and challenging task. Like murder.
No, I don’t know any Kung Fu or any martial arts. But I could break the man’s neck from behind. And, if that failed, I would wrestle him to the ground and die before letting him get up as I smashed his head again and again on the platform, caring not a whit about the mess I’d make. I’m strong. More importantly, I’m strong-willed.
He deserved to die, I rationalized and actually saw myself as a champion of the underdogs who play by the rules on train platforms. You have to honor another person’s space. You can’t stand too close to another person until or unless you see the train pulling up, and everyone tightens up the ranks, bunching together to stand at the spot you believe the train steps will come to a halt.
Why break such a rule? Why place yourself in front of someone else just because you’re taller than them are? Or younger? Or slicker? Someone like me may just kill you and use the opportunity to leave behind a staid and predictable life that’s losing whatever meaning it once may have had.
My action could be considered justifiable in a weird sort of way. No, not in a legal sense, but in a Karmic sense, if you know what I mean. I’d create some negative karma but prevent others from getting such negativity in their thoughts and desires to kill as much as I wanted to kill him. I saved them and the rest of all sentient beings a large and cumulative amount of negative karma, that I could be considered a saint in some religions.
I bring this up now only because I asked the Universe to correct my old way of life. Certain actions occurred in response to my wishes.
But instead of acting, I became a “watcher.” I was no longer the actor, but someone above myself looking down on my speech, my thoughts, my relations with others and events that became ripened by different causes and conditions.
No, I killed no one. But I entered a state of mind where I saw a different reality. A reality that has always been there but was blocked by my mind. My mind kept me busy with one thought after another: a fear here, an anxiety there. It jumped from an emotional thought from my past to a future where nothing, but catastrophes existed. And then my mind would race, with me having no control of it.
I feel better now. I control my mind even in the most disastrous moments of life. Who’s to say they’re disastrous? Not me. Not anymore. I’ve gained the equanimity to treat the glorious and the profane the same way. As an observer. Not a slave to emotional and useless thoughts. Just an observer of the thoughts.
Try it.
What is a monk to do when he is lonely? When he is blue?
When you reach that low point where you feel you are the loneliest person in the world, who or what do you turn to for relieve? 
The Dalai Lama says, “Don’t scratch the itch.” Better still, he cautions, “Don’t have the itch in the first place.” I paraphrase His Holiness‘ words, but not their meaning. * Don’t have the itch in the first place.
That may be easy for a virgin entering monastic life as an adolescent. But what do you tell a grown man or woman who had not entered their spiritual path until experiencing the warmth, comfort and love in the arms of truly caring and compassionate mate?
Something so good could not be so bad.
Even years later when one has only a dim memory of giving oneself completely to another so that both could share the ecstasy that Buddhist say comes only upon death — and in sexual union! It can be an out-of-body experience that unites, shattering the dualistic mind, if only for a second or for a lifetime.
Should I give up this yearning for the mere touch of another? Should I mark it up as just another depravity on my part, a defilement that my mind causes in my dreams and my waking hours?
Why has such an overwhelming sense of sexuality come over me as I draw nearer and nearer to spirituality?
(By clicking on the following sentences, you will be linked with my book “Ithaca Insights.”)
I’ll return to my cave after the verdict.
* * * *
*(If one is itchy, then one scratches himself.
Better than any number of scratches
However, it is when one does not itch at all.”
— His Holiness the Dalai Lama quoting Nagarjuna, the Indian scholar, with a three-line thought on the question of Erotic Love.
Too often I hear someone talk about an “out-of-body” experience as if it was the greatest thing since, I don’t know, the invention of peanut butter. Astral projection is another feat people speak of in hushed tones as if their trip from one place to another meant everything in the world.
Well, I’m here to tell you there ain’t nothing like the good old-fashioned “In-Body” experience to get the blood rushing and the ecstasy flowing. ” It’s your body now, stupid.” You don’t have to go chasing some Holy Grail to find the answer “out there.” It’s here and it’s now. 
I was reminded of this when I suggested to a novice of the *Middle Way to try the “Body Scan” method of guided meditation. She sat for 25 minutes in a group and grappled with one thought after another. It was tough, she told me, but this dear child had taken her first steps toward enlightenment. They were baby steps.
With a little guidance, she made it through a sitting meditation. A brief walking meditation followed, and if her experience was anything like my first walk, she probably felt awkward, unbalanced, and out of shape. (See: Why must this path hurt so much?)
The body scan can help with the concentration needed in meditation, I realized when I was giving advice to her several hours after our one-on-one talk. Find an instructor or a CD where someone could “guide” you through a scan, I suggested. Follow the guide’s instructions and focus on the part of the body the scan takes you.
The scan is nothing more than an attempt by a meditator to be acutely aware of one’s sensation of touch as it relates to, let’s say, your right foot. Upon hearing “right foot,” you make the foot the single-minded object of your attention. Feel the toes, focus on the big toe, now try to “sense” the toe next to it, and then the group of toes. Can you feel the pinky? The tip of the pinky?
It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out where the guide will take you next. Choose another part of the foot, say the insole, the ankle, or the heel, and allow your mind to hover there, being aware of each chosen part. Eventually, you’ll touch on all the parts and be amazed at how much easier it was to nudge thoughts out of your way!
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call an “In-Body” experience. But don’t take my word for it. Try it yourself. If you’re like my new novice friend (is that a redundancy? A “new novice friend“?), you’ll probably need a little help from a friend, or at least, a friendly voice. That is, until you’re able to gently move your meandering and invasive thoughts “out of the picture,” and become one with your body.
I experience a tingling sensation, an effervescent feeling while “in focus.” It’s generated by some low-level motor-like engine running constantly throughout the body. A warmth blankets me, while providing a coolness at the same time.
All needs and desires are gone, save one. A wish to stay where I am – as I am – for as long as the peace and calm will effortlessly carry me. Amazingly, I am totally aware of everything around me. I am much more than this body “chilling out” in this space, this time. There is no past, no future, and the present stretches from beginningless time to endless time. My consciousness feeds off some Mother Entity that is all around me and in me.
I bow to this power, this Divine Energy. Make me your water bearer, O Divine Mother. Let me be the instrument to share your unconditional love with others. Let them sip from your wisdom and the body of knowledge that’s stored inside their empty vessels. Be still, I will tell them. “Be still, and know that I am God“ is the Bible quote that can help us Be Still with the Divine.
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
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
On February 5th, 2012, a friend who calls herself, the Frugal Xpat, commented:
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
Shifting into cruise control, I let myself glide through many of life’s activities nowadays. I relax, take several deep breaths, and seek a place inside where there are no thoughts, no worries, and no frets.
I’ve already done all the heavy lifting. I planned the contours of my day, knowing when I could go on autopilot and when I needed to let the left hemisphere of my brain take over. You know, when I need to calculate, navigate, and/or investigate, I turn to the so-called “thinking” process. But I don’t let thoughts interrupt my breakfast while I eat.
I awake with no problem and shave, shower, and dress myself, making only minor decisions in these efforts, particularly choosing which clothes to put on. Who needs to think while running water, flossing teeth, or flushing a toilet?
After getting into the car and driving to my preplanned destination of work or play, I need not think of the future or the past, but just the moment in front of me. This is my time, not someone else’s time, who would use it as unwisely as I used to by daydreaming, recalling past events, or projecting a thousand possibilities of things that could happen in the future that I had absolutely no control over.
A soft calm spreads throughout my body. Stiff and sore parts start to loosen up and relax. I have no need or wish to be anywhere but where I am at the moment.
I seek this plane of awareness when I read intently or listen deeply. When I’m in this “zone,” I retain more from a book or article, and hear not only spoken words from a speaker, but more of the meaning someone is trying to say without words.
When I free myself of the noisy thoughts and outside interferences, I become more present for the environment I’ve chosen to focus on, be it reading or writing, laughing or crying, or simply standing or sitting while I wait to engage in my next series of “actions.” I am more “there” than ever before because I purposely “let go” of all that has little if anything to do with the “now.”
I focus better on the job, finding more clarity on what’s needed and what’s superfluous. There’s a great word for you, superfluous. How much of what we do, say, and think is just that? Superfluous. How easy life could be if we eliminated more and more of the unnecessary add-ons that we thought so important at one time, but discovered never added one iota to our overall well-being.
Breathing in, I am at home with myself. Breathing out, I am at home with you and all the love, compassion, and sense of equanimity that the best families could ever offer.
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.
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.
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.
I’ve done what I have done and everyone can be satisfied with my efforts, including — and most importantly — me. Continue reading
I remembered how to fly this morning. The first thing I needed for liftoff, I recalled, was good, solid grounding. Everything must be secured and brought to a complete stand-still before I could ever dream of taking off into the air. Continue reading
I didn’t want to go back to Omega Institute this year. Each time I travelled to this land of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle, I’d get high from the holistic experience. But then I’d change into an Ichabod Crane feeling chased by the Headless Horseman, who’d tell true-life stories that caused so much pain I couldn’t hold it inside. Continue reading
Cleaning a pot can be very meaningful, particularly if you block out all thoughts and concentrate on nothing but you and the instrument that has helped provide you with so much nourishment. Continue reading
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
I get such a high while exercising that I can’t imagine why I haven’t done this more often in life. Continue reading
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
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
I never knew the hot water I’d get in at a local gym until I waded into a hot tub and saw one of the gym staffers assault a fellow bather when he paid more attention to the person he was speaking to via headphones than the operations manager, who yanked at his headset, telling him to “Get the Hell Out“. Continue reading
After chanting a non-English mantra for some time, I finally learned its definition and discovered a gem of wisdom while contemplating its meaning. Meditating will never be the same, and I want to share with others a little of the enlightenment it’s provided me.
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
But only those who nurture it can fully appreciate its magical transformation.
I liken it to a mineral or rock that resides within, undisturbed by the daily thoughts and busy lives of quiet desperation. It can be uncovered only when one stills the mind and releases preconceived notions of what creation is all about.  Continue reading
It’s time for my disappearing act to begin. I close my eyes, wave an imaginary magic wand, and slowly begin to vanish from existence here. All thoughts and fears come to an end as I find protection beneath a cloak of invisibility, safe from the savages outside and the demons within.  Continue reading
I can think of many ways to stop a bad habit without having to suffer a stroke that goes untreated for years and years.  Continue reading
I didn’t know how much I needed a “fix” until my head slumped on my chest and I “awoke” to a restful, calm, and peaceful world I had been away from for what seemed a lifetime. I felt.
But please don’t judge me. Don’t look upon me as weak or needy. I have tried so hard to be the strong, silent type who could weather any storm alone: self-reliant and dependent on no one except myself to get through the most difficult of life’s situations. Yet, each time I overcame what felt like one disaster after another, I knew deep inside I could not succeed on my own. I needed help from a Source I’d subconsciously tapped into to get me through each ordeal.
I now admit I couldn’t have done it without getting high while no one was looking. I’ve become addicted. In recent days, months, and years, I needed more and more of what I call the “elixir of life.” I’d crave the equanimity it would offer me as a serotonin chemical would enter into my bloodstream, my consciousness, my very essence.
I don’t care what others might say about my habit anymore. I need a crutch to get through my day, and I’m only realizing now how much I struggle when I fail to take a hit. The earlier in the day, I can get it, the better. I need that something extra to assure me all is well, that all will be well, no matter what failings, shortcomings, or simple ignorance I bring to daily life.
I am dependent on this “Source” to take me away from my worries, my concerns, my feelings of, I don’t know, call it an emptiness of sorts that so hard to describe, let alone, understand.
When the need calls to me, I look for a place where I can be alone. I get into a comfortable posture, a familiar one that offers a tingling sensation of anticipation. I am going to escape, I tell myself, as I settle into a chair or on a pillow, exposing my vulnerability to forces outside and inside myself.
I open one hand to the heavens above, ready to accept whatever peace may soon come my way. My other hand rests downward, touching the solid earth that grounds me. The arm and exposed hand facing skyward await the blissful infusion the drug will eventually provide.
My mind is racing like steaming locomotion, a runaway train minus a conductor at the controls. I can’t truly let go and open myself while my thoughts are zigzagging from one place to another. The thoughts fly from the past to the future. (They never seem to come to rest in the present!) Each carries unwanted baggage. I can’t rid myself of these thoughts. They come unbidden, unneeded. They impede my plans to escape the battlefield I’m maneuvering through.
Stop swinging at unseen opponents, hoping a knockout punch will somehow save you, Michael J. Give in, take the fix. Admit that you can no longer live without it.
Acquiesce to the Power Greater than Yourself. Feel warmth slowly spread through your body, easing the tightness in your neck and your shoulders, the parts so tense and coiled they feel like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring out. You need only breathe and allow the source to seep into you, to wash over you, to elevate your mind and your spirit.
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
No matter how hard I try, I can never count to 20 before an unbidden thought arises from inside of me. I get to three or four while meditating, and images pop up on an internal screen, capturing my attention. I dare not try this counting method until my body and mind are both well-settled and I can “Let go.” Continue reading
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
I never thought I’d be thankful for a stuffy nose, but it helped me to meditate without really trying. It all started on a day I was off from work, and I stayed in bed as ten thousand thoughts ran through my mind. I noticed a clogged nostril and focused all of my attention on trying to reopen it.  Continue reading
It’s so wonderful to welcome you to visit. You return when I least expect you, embracing me and bringing peace and calm just when I still myself and end needless thoughts.
Are any thoughts actually needed when I go within? I need but seek a quiet moment with no thought save the intent to be free of the past and the future, thus ensuring I will rest “In the Now.”
It’s not based on my part alone. I find that I need the inspiration that others give me. You, who give your love so easily by opening your heart, unafraid of any consequences, allowing me to touch your soul and be one with you. Yes, I become one with you when the truth from the Source touches me as I hoped it would while writing from the depths of my inner being. It is then that I feel the kinship, the brotherhood with men and women alike.
—————
I seep into your arms, feeling the comfort that you offer. It is palpable, this feeling that arises. It is like a warm, fully lined coat, puffed up with weather-protected soft materials wrapped around me. I feel totally protected. Like a baby in a car seat with padding upon padding to ward off any harm.
I approach this level of consciousness by remaining perfectly still, freezing my body and then my mind. I sit with my eyes closed, taking in the sounds of a pet bird, motorists driving outside my home, and the ticking of a nearby clock.
It’s as close to heaven as I could ever imagine one could reach. I have no wants and no desires. I simply “am.”
Uh oh. I feel a slight pain in one leg, so I crossed over the other. Do I dare try to relieve this suffering by breaking the stillness? Can I remain in this state by easing my leg into a more comfortable position?
There, my leg is straightened out. I send my concentrated awareness to that part of the body that signaled the discomfort. I feel a warmth spread over that area. It is soothing. It blends in with the focus I still keep in this moment. I am still “In the Moment.” My peaceful calm has not been destroyed but simply adjusted. I need not fear slow, methodical actions to curtail my new, higher level of consciousness.
Should I experiment? Open my eyes and try to do something mundane? Ok, Michael, pay the bill. You can’t get any more mundane than that. You’re writing the check, placing it in an envelope. You’ve just used the left hemisphere of your brain; now let’s scoot back to the right side.
—————
There, you have it. Peace and calm are still here. You worked mindfully, just like the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, said you would.
Someone now asks you a question. You answer from what feels like a different world inside of you. You answer a second and third question, undisturbed and completely surprised that you can continue your feelings of love and happiness despite a break in your “meditative” posture. No, you don’t need to keep your eyes closed or to stay seated on a mat to be mindfully engaged with the world.
You just have to do it. Do these actions mindfully.
If you could only sell it to the world, we’d all live in peace and harmony. Hell, why don’t you just give it away freely?
Contoveros 