Does “Faith” Freak You Out?

Perhaps, I lost you at the word.  Faith.

Originally, “faith” had nothing to do with “religion”. 

See also:

Strong belief.  Loyalty.  Acceptance.  Constancy.  Truth.  Trust in someone or something.  Allegiance to duty or person.  Fidelity to promises.  Sincerity of intentions.  Strong conviction.  Confidence in a person or thing. 

Strong, weighty word.  Redefined through history and encumbered with a load that it did nothing to deserve.

My feeling is...what a loss.

The word has been translated by the very language that created it. 

With some, the fear of the word is palpable.

Mindfulness is about clarity.  Removing judgment. 

Science needs clarity to practice science.  Science, itself, will be greater when we clear our heads (our thoughts), bring awareness to our language (word), and follow through with unbiased action (experimentation).  When we perceive threats, in a spoken word, we elicit a fight or flight response.  We function from our primitive brain.  We react.

People have had “faith” in placebos.

Faith existed long before religion.

The English Language lost a weighty word to its “evolved” meaning.

I want to start a movement.  Save “faith”.  In fact, “keep the faith”.  Fear leads to paranoia and so much more. 

Let’s get mindful with our words.  We have enough judgment leading to dissension.  I’d like to kidnap “faith” back from the battle zone of religion (more on that at another time).

Will you join me in a “leap of faith”...an “act of faith”?

Maybe, what we really need to change is judgment and fear?  What are we afraid of?

Used as it was originally prescribed, faith sure sounds like a source of peace and tranquility.

When Success Became Failure

But look toward the sky?

A curious thing happened one day when we weren't looking.  Our confidence did a flip-flop.  The meaning of a simple phrase changed.  Completely.

"I KNEW it!"

That's the phrase.

Maybe you remember being in 1st or 2nd grade.  You, or another bold classmate, raised a hand.  "Ooo.  Oooo.  Oooooo.  I know!  I know!  Pick me!"

The teacher glanced over and said, "Joe?  Yes?"  You answered with assurance.  Her pitch became higher and pleasant, "Yes!   Good job!"

She looked down at the textbook to move on, a hush fell over the room for just a moment, and you responded one more time even louder, "I KNEW it"!

Then, one day, all that changed.

Maybe it was life.  Maybe time hardens us.  Maybe time disappoints us.  Maybe time proves that we may be wrong sometimes.

Maybe time makes us wiser...and maybe, it doesn't.

We begin wanting to deliver that "right" answer more than anything.  We want to be right so badly that the day we were wrong, or the day we watched someone else give the wrong answer, the world of right changed.  Success changed.  Maybe it was that first twinge of hearing, "try again", "get-ting warmerrrrrr???", or the dreaded moving on...from a nod to Joe to a turn to Sarah.  "Do you know the answer, Sarah?"

Whoa.  That was rough.

Perhaps, we became cynics.  Disenchanted with our possibilities.  Perhaps, our dream of playing for the New Orleans Saints didn't come to fruition or that the audition for The Voice was just not in the cards.  Perhaps, it's just safer to know that we WILL be wrong and be "prepared for defeat" as a well-adjusted grown-up.  After all, if Joe were a Boy Scout, being prepared doesn't only mean knowing how to make Boston Baked Beans over an open fire.  Being prepared, in and of itself, often has pretty grim, pessimistic connotations.

BUT...one thing did remain the same.  We wanted to be "right".

So...when we grew up, "I KNEW it" almost always meant failure.  After all, we may be wrong, but we didn't want to lose being right.

If we want to be successful, change the world, chase dreams, be a positive force, and make anything and everything possible, I believe we need to put "I KNEW it" in front of a mirror.  Pull out her old reflection and stick with THAT.

We need to stop proving our selves "right" when we fail and start a movement of "I KNEW it" meaning I can make a difference.  I can bring positive change to my surroundings.

Maybe harness our "inner child" of promise, excitement, creativity....and definitely, enthusiasm?

"The Ripple Starts Here".

We need to ask who is the genius?  I'm thinking it was Joe.  Confident, brave and a little bit brazen too.

Sometimes, I hear our 1st grade teacher saying, "Yes.  Joe.  You certainly do know!?"  Failure after each miserable failure.  "Your ARE right.  You're wrong again."  Awesome. 

Drop the world-weary psyche-out of adulthood.  Abandon the journey to failure.  Stop blindly traipsing along on the "mature" stepping stones of "I KNEW it.  I KNEW it.  I KNEW it". 
Yes.   You're right again.  Success!   You failed.  They failed.  The world fails.  Sounds like insanity to me?

What are we teaching our kids?  Maybe it's time for us to learn from them?

Then, you KNEW it.  Now, you don't.

Do you wanna be right?  Or...wrong?  Surprise yourself!  Whodda thunk being wrong could feel so right?

The Face of a Woman

Great #art project addressing #sexism and cat calls. Written comments are even more telling. pic.twitter.com/ofC6bcAwV1
— YK Hong (@ykhong) March 9, 2013

In June, I discovered this tweet.  I haven't stopped thinking about it.  Yesterday was Women's Equality Day.

Since spotting this tweet, I can't tell you the number of times I have been going about my business, carrying the loss of my mother and other enormously back-breaking life events with me, and I've been told to smile or somehow alter the somber expression on my face.  

Then, it occurred to me, this has often happened to me throughout my life on the rare occasion I wasn't smiling.  I never really thought about it.

On a daily basis, I am the first person to smile.  I'll greet you, smile and say "how are you?"  I am delighted to listen and hear more.  I am joyful and inquisitive.  My greatest joy is to brighten a person's day.  I approach everyone first with, of course, a smile.  

I like to carry a smile with me and "share the bug".  

But, there is more to a smile that is undeniable.  There is a history to smiling that is often not acknowledged.  There was a time when "football players never smile" was freely spoken, understood, and admired.  Honest and humorous.  I think we were safer then. 

There is no one who believes more in joy, love, peace, and compassion than I do.  However, this beautiful piece of art, remembered again on Women's Equality Day, reminds us that, sadly enough...smiles are not equal.  

In some cases, with heads and hearts that hold dark thoughts, a smile, on The Face of a Woman, can be an invitation, seen as a flirtation, to disaster.

Smile...and be mindful.  Remember those who can smile freely when they are happy and remember those who may be told to smile.  And never forget those who when they did smile, as they were told, may later face an accusation that since they did smile, they "asked for it".

We still have not reached equality when a woman's, or girl's, smile of innocence may not be treated for what it is.  In 2013, it would be politically incorrect to say so.  

Attitudes can be held in darkness...or behind a smile.

Pain Management and Mindfulness

The Healer

First a disclaimer:  Take what you can and leave the rest...

Before every mindful and meditating person stops reading this article beyond the first paragraph, please bear with me.

This is a story that I have shared with a number of people about an experience that I had following a surgery in 2009.  The pre-surgery tests and results came back and my surgeon and doctors were making plans.  A long, very difficult recovery was outlined and explained to me by a variety of specialists.

Prior to the surgery, I did my thing.  Meditating and reading the best I could.  I wanted the mildest pain killer and dosage possible and I explained to the doctor that the pain was so great that I couldn't get to the point of being able to meditate.  I needed something to take the edge off so that I could continue my process toward peace and relief.  For a person they considered to have "a high pain tolerance", they did their best to relieve the pain, but keep me completely functioning.

The surgery went perfectly.  One day, I may describe the experience further in my blog.  As they rolled me between the swinging doors exiting the room, I awoke.  The surgeon and anesthesiologist leaned down, spoke my name, reiterated the surgery I had just undergone, and said ..." you're going home".

In my delirium, that had a number of interpretations.

They wheeled me into recovery.  Now, I cannot explain the feelings of being in recovery, but I was the only one conscious in that recovery room.  Nurses and doctors buzzing around me to do all they could to release me quickly.  I was overwhelmed.  Disbelief is an understatement.  Guilty for having been so fortunate.  And...pain beyond any I had ever experienced (they forgot to administer any pain relief following the surgery).

I went home.  Joy, relief, disbelief, gratitude, love almost all-consuming.

But, there was guilt.  An unbearable emotion.  Underneath it all.  Overwhelming.

"Why me?  How did I get so lucky?  I'm so joyful and grateful and feeling such relief escaping the forecasts of my predicted future...but why me?"

I felt terrible, but I did what I do.  I meditated.

The pain was still beyond anything I had ever experienced.

I went into the meditation with this thought of horrendous guilt behind it all.  The thought itself was the "gorilla in my mind" at the time.  Enormous.

As I slowly slipped "back to reality" following the meditation, I began to feel something.  A relief.  An answer of sorts.

The answer seemed to be written for me.  Like a billboard becoming visible as I neared it, the answer in my mind was clear.

"Because you're not done yet."

I know these answers are "obvious", "simple"....I've been told that more times than I can remember...but I have also been told, "why didn't I think of that"?

That's mindful meditation.  The simple.

The greatest truths and answers are just that.  Pure.  Simple.

My point to sharing this story was a discussion that I had with young man who was undergoing tests for a disease that would change the rest of his life.  I listened to his pain and thought I'd share this story with him.  For what it may be worth.

He said to me, "you have no idea what this answer did for me."  He was so grateful and a look of relief and serenity crossed his face that I hadn't seen since he received his possible diagnosis.  He said, "You need to tell people this.  It's so simple, but we forget."  And..."Thank you.  Thank you so much."

If anyone feeling pain of any sort reads this, I hope they may find some relief in knowing that there is much more ahead for you.  No matter the type of pain and no matter the path ahead.  Yes.  You are in agony and you may have many questions about the pain.  But, remember.

You are here and experiencing.  You're not done yet.  Whatever that may mean.  There's some great mystery.  A gift is wrapped.

Obvious, I know.

Sometimes, the best, simplest answer is the only answer we have.

Mindfulness: When Worlds Collide

April 17, 2013.  Logan International Airport.  Boston, Massachusetts.

On April 19, 2013, I was in Boston, Massachusetts.  I was attempting to fly from my childhood home to my present home.  I don't need to tell you the story.  It's been covered.

The tower at Logan, in Boston.  I'm sure they didn't know what they may be facing.

The moment.  The experience.  The slice of time.  Oh yes.  Boston is strong.

Then...the connection.

I was in Boston reuniting with my family for one of the most life-altering, crushing blows that anyone faces in a lifetime.  I arrived in Boston, April 17, to lay my first greatest blessing on this planet to rest.  I was in Boston to remember and celebrate the life of my dear, enchanting, radiant and loving mother.

I speak a bit about my mother on Facebook.  There is far too much for me to say about her here.  Suffice it to say, her life is one of the richest and most selfless this world will ever be graced to witness.

My mother will always be one of the most amazing people I will ever know.  She had an endless supply of indispensable wisdom and an unmatched, tender gift for delivery of firm guidance.  Yet, she had a curious way that encouraged freedom, creativity, and ingenuity with a grace that most people will never be able to duplicate, let alone master.

During adolescence, I remember a discussion that we had frequently.  Whether I was referencing my friends' actions, or her opinions, she would say fearlessly, "Be different".

The strength, confidence, and faith in that statement still astounds me.  I could have been anything.  I could have done anything.  You've been there.  You know what I'm saying.  She challenged the world of adolescent possibilities completely -- with no fear or reluctance whatsoever.  That's faith.  That's love.  The absence of fear.  As is said often, "the opposite of love is not hate.  It's fear."

So...the adolescent mantras of independence and different became a joke to me at that point.  My mother's gentle teaching flattened the cliques and "cools" that were my world at the time.  Those independent souls advertising and proclaiming rebellious actions became silly.  They were all the same and worse yet, they "didn't even get it!"

I was seeking...different.  It was time to grow...and that was her lifelong message to me.  That was always her message.  "Do better" than those kids.  "Do better than ME", she would say.

I knew I never would, but I sure loved and respected anyone saying that...and here she was.  My Mom!

My life has proven to be a winding road.  A quest like that isn't pretty, but Mom never said it would be.

The journey has not been without mistakes, corrections, guidance and downright "face plants" (an expression of which cyclists are well-familiar).  The tests have proven numerous and endless as they are for all of us.  I am grateful to have stumbled through this journey, with all of it's bumps, bruises and scars.

As part of the challenges thrown my way, I faced one of the greatest questions that each of us faces throughout our lifetimes.  The very serious, relentless interrogations came about 25 years ago.  The "Trials" I call them now.  The ceaseless, painful inquisitions about my faith.  Sure, I had my childhood lessons of respect, rituals, and diligence.  I had no preparation for this.

I went to school.  Science was a favorite subject.  I had a million questions myself.  I wasn't prepared for this test.  I hadn't studied.  In reality, I was not only ill-equipped, I was flat out lame!

From my own experience, questioning my mother and her convictions, I knew anyone questioning me so seriously (and in fact, ferociously at times) was searching for their own answers in defiance and desperation.  After all, these inquiries were not coming from a child or teenager.

This was a perfect instance for which the third degree and badgering could have been the most miserable experience of my life.  At the time, it was.  But, now, I couldn't be more grateful for the answers I was forced to find and prove for myself.  The "evidence" and "proof" I had to prepare under intense duress.  Little did I know it, at the time I needed to survive through this torturous line of questioning for my journey.  I was enduring what I would need and use the rest of my life.  That cross-examination, in fact, was a gift to me.  The "opportunity" that is so often referenced in the "take-aways" from losses or painful circumstances.

My Mom used to say that everything in life comes down to math.  Problem-solving.  Awesome.

In March 2013, I noticed this one word.  One name.  My Mom's beautiful name -- etched in a railing encircling the end of my favorite pier near my home now.  Then, the fog horn blew.
As people we find comfort and security embracing the constants for ourselves.  Ironic, when we embrace the variables, the unknown...that's when everything begins and that's where we will find the most peace and comfort.
That's where everything becomes one.
 "It's all about the math."

Mindfulness was a big part of this exploration and journey.  Awareness.  Being in the moment.  Not judging or defining.  Not labeling or needing to categorize or make sense of anything.  In fact, solving without solving.  A solution in and of itself.

I began practicing mindfulness.  I began meditation.  I began studying a variety of practices, teachings, and disciplines.

Since then, I have a new appreciation for many of life's experiences that flow like waves into our lives.  Painful and joyous.

There are no coincidences...Coincidence is a mathematical term.  Two angles that coincide are said to be two angles that fit together perfectly.  That is in no way accidental.  In science, "there is no implication that the alignment of events is surprising, noteworthy or non-causal."  We lost something in the translation.  Again.  It all comes down to math...

Once a few years ago, I had an opportunity to test all that I had studied for the past decade.  I was extremely ill and experiencing excruciating physical pain.  If excruciating physical pain does not demand mindfulness, nothing else will.  A lesson, I now know, I had to experience or I wouldn't reach the point that I needed to reach.  I wouldn't master the lesson in time for my next step.  I am not the brightest student!

I began a compassion meditation.  Without provocation, or direct invitation, a phrase echoed in my mind as I withdrew from the moments of serenity.  I was ill and to be "restored" as we know it.  However, there were words that assured me there is no separation, no divide.  The only separation is..."as we know it".  "As we choose to see it."  The following words played over and over following this meditation and through the tests, surgery and recovery.

"On earth as it is in heaven."

I never really...I mean really...thought about what that means.  The meditation brought it into focus.  It was monumental in my mind.  I couldn't deny or avoid the words themselves if I tried.

"On earth as it is in heaven".

As I explored, "being different", questioning, remaining open, receptive, and problem-solving, these words would have been the least I expected to hear.  I was in a wide-open state.  Receptive to everything possible.  Desiring answers.  In fact, expecting to be surprised and blowing away all that I had ever been taught and "knew".  Maybe, even smugly allowing an "I told you so" to creep into my mind.   

What did I hear?

Now, I understand why those particular words were necessary for me.  I was treading in a territory of infinite wisdom and knowledge.  I needed a language translation.  I needed help!  I needed those specific words in a language I could recognize in order to be taught "something" for which there are no words.

"A peace that passes understanding".

For someone else, they will come in a language that speaks to them.  Same message.  Different language.  Simple.

On April 19, 2013, I was experiencing a personal transformation.  A day of reckoning of my own.  A day that my life, my journey, had been preparing me for all along.  On the surface, it was horrific.  My life had been blown up.  All that I had ever known from the moment I was born was in chaos.  I don't have the words to explain my visible, tangible self at that moment.  I'm still there to some extent now.  The loss of a dear loved one will do that.

Mindful of my loss.  Mindful of the magnitude of my personal sorrow and heartache.  And...aware.  Mindful that Boston...and the world...and our human connections, our strength and resilience are not really planted to the earth beneath our feet.  Mindful that there is no separation.  The limits rest here if we choose to limit ourselves.  

In my journey, my inner world and outer were mirrors for instants that day...and everyone was seamlessly connected.  One humanity.  One experience for me to see and feel.  The pain and strength and resilience...beyond anything physically limiting...and the choice.  Those who rose beyond the constraints.  Those who rose above the pain.  Those who rose beyond the limits...and of course, those who served.

I am reminded of a quote by Dr. Viktor Frankl, “What is to give light must endure burning.”

I've returned to another of the earth's beautiful spots.  My home is where the fog horn blows and the sea laps the pilings of a sturdy pier.  Like all of us, parts of me remain true.  Sturdy.  Strong.  But, there is a different kind of strength.  Something beyond strength "as we know it".

There is Boston Strong. 

Parts of me, like Boston, will never be the same.  I know, in time, we will all be better for it.  In fact, stronger for it.  This I know.  This is the journey.

Mindfulness gave me some of the answers that I needed as I fell to my knees and crawled along this most recent path.  I felt the weight of the world with this lesson, but I know the weight is proportional to the lesson.  So...I will be grateful.  One day.  Some day.

We press on...My Mom would saying "smiling"!

I had to come from the places I have been to reach, see, and understand where I am today.

There are no coincidences...when worlds collide.  And when they do...you can do the math.

I love you, Mom.

Prejudice? Read the label...

It SAYS "Chunky", but buyer beware?

Chunky or creamy?  Which one are you?  Maybe, you can swing either way?

Me?  I'm a chunky.  Or...no peanut butter at all, thank you.  Ya.  Pretty uptight and inflexible, I know. I guess we all have our "things".

I've been thinking a lot about judgment lately, and then, this peanut butter dropped into my shopping basket.  All of the sayings and deep thoughts came to mind.   "Judging a book by its cover", "leaping to conclusions", "buyer beware", "not getting what you pay for", "buying what you're selling me"...and, ultimately, prejudice and first impressions fused together in my now, favorite jar of all time.  Here she is!  Chunky Peanut Spread?

I ask...do YOU see a single, precious nut chunk in there?  

Me?  I didn't see a one.  My son (a chunky young man himself -- very thin, but a Chunky Man) was much more inquisitive and open-minded.  He looked very closely and gave an additional test.  He raised the jar to his NOSE, and he smelled the peanut butter.  As a peanut butter connoisseur, and he is (well-initiated to the nuances of good peanut butter I may add), he said, "this is DEFINITELY chunky". Whoa.  Texture is not everything!

We have a split home.  Three chunky.  Three creamy.  So, this was easy.  We grabbed a "creamy jar" to compare.  We unscrewed the creamy and sure enough he was right!  Even without the chunks, chunky and creamy SMELL vastly different!!

You can read the label and feel deceived.  Duped.  Short-changed.  Maybe you even feel like the victim of a terrible lie.  Betrayed.  You can return to the store and insist on a replacement.  "Chunky!  I bought Chunky!"  You can write the company a note and hope for a crate of pure, unadulterated Chunky Spread in return for their negligence.  Shoot.  You could call a lawyer.  

Me?  Somehow, I loved this crazy jar.  If it was possible, I would have kept this jar forever.  A piece of art.  I'd call it "People Butter" and rest it in a very special spot.

The outside may lead to a certain determination or hasty conclusion, but remember it's all about what's INside.  And, even upon closer inspection,  peering into the "jar of People Butter", there may be some truth to what the label said all along.

For me, one thing IS for sure.  When I see Chunky Peanut Butter Spread...when I "buy what you're selling"...when you're advertising "chunky" all over?  

You better have the nuts.

A Castle Made of Sand?

Just a couple steps to the end of the earth...

It was Sunday.  The Sunday following Thanksgiving.  I make a point of reminding myself what the holiday is all about no matter how much I have to do that weekend.  The food, family, friends and gratitude make this holiday special, and I never let a Thanksgiving pass without pausing to focus on its true, celebrated meaning.

It was a gorgeous day.  Clear.  Bright.  Just beautiful.  I heard the call to "come out and play" despite piles of dishes sitting in the kitchen and this week's "to do" list growing louder in my head.

Fighting the urge to be swallowed up by my responsibilities, I threw on my sweats and grabbed my beach bag in a fit of "I won't give in" and burn this day.  A gift.  "I'm coming!"  I fumbled for the car keys.

As soon as I arrived in my favorite parking spot by the sea, I knew that I was in the right place.  My breathing slowed.  I inhaled deeply.  The pounding in my chest subsided and I felt the relief of a good decision.   Satisfied in my choice.  Knowing I was meant to be "here".  This moment. 

I'd walked this path a million times before.  I'd ridden my bike here through every possible condition.  Days like this...and days of torrential downpours.  Days with warm breezes from the south...and days that winds howled from the north and clouds unloaded icy buckets of driving, brutal lashes.  Liquid sting.

There were times warmth enveloped the coast and embraced the steep cliffs, and there were times the monstrous cliffs were invisible in a shroud of clouds and a curtain of water.

I treasured days I eased along the path nudged by a zephyr from the south as much as I cherished my memories of days when arctic rain poured down from my forehead, blinded me, and I licked the salty precipitation from my lips.  I would be the only one out in the storm.  Alone.  Safe to talk to her.  I'd smile and say, "Yes.  I'm here to see your other side.  Show me what you're made of.  Give me all you've got.  I'm here to experience your beauty...and your power."

A perfect storm.

Today was not that day.  She was showing me her glowing, brilliant beauty.

I walked along the path to find my opening to the sea.  I crunched my way to the top of the cliff and found my footing over the rocky slope.  I slipped and skid down the stony decline a bit and smiled at Mother Nature's work.  Her weather patterns may change in an instant but her stone artistry shows a patient, persistent, gentle hand sculpting intricate scenes as well:  massive cliffs giving way to pebbles and the final tapestry of all her work.  Rocks, shells, and fossils her media.  Sand her masterpiece.

My last few steps were at a run.  She forced me to keep pace.  The drop to sea level was steep.

The stretch of sand was surprisingly desolate.  Black Friday leading to Cyber Monday?  Was I the only one not heeding that call?

The sand at the water's edge was smooth.  The tide was out, and if humanity was too, they weren't here.  I walked about a mile along the soft, pristine surface.  There were a few broken clam and crab shells, but not many.  Frankly, it was strange.  Often, the waves brought lots of clues to the mysteries under the sea.  Sand dollars, shells, crab, kelp, jellyfish, and cypress driftwood are often scattered along the frothy border of her ever-changing hemline.  Sometimes, she seemed to cough, choke and spew the debris of careless people.  Today, she was privately shielding her innermost mystery.  It was as if she held a secret?

I smiled and lifted my chin to feel the warmth of this November sun.  No headphones.  The waves were rhythmic and I wanted to appreciate the regularity with which they rolled to shore today.  Some days the ocean roared like an unruly, angry crowd and her tides seemed to have no rhyme or reason and ripped from any and every direction.  (A lot like all of us). Today, the sea seemed satisfied with a fulfilling holiday, too. But, I sensed she held a surprise. In any case, I continued along the edge...where ocean and land hold their daily dance.

There was something in the sand ahead.  The mighty ocean rolled in on my right, and one, small shadowy object lay on the sand canvas a few steps away.  To my left.

Castle is enlarged to show texture.  Kidding.
Actually, I was disappointed.  In my disbelief,
I lifted the sculpted rock and removed it from
its natural state -- so this is my feeble, quick attempt
at sharing the castle and the story.
Isn't it incredible!?

Like the day, it was beautiful.  Sculpted.  Perfection.

Tells you something.  I thought it was "man-made".  Assembled by a familiar hand.  A sand castle.  Small.  About 4 inches high.  Maybe 5 wide.  Alone.  Nothing else around it for yards.  It reminded me of something made from "Silly Sand".  Dripping wet, saturated sand from a fist held above -- about a foot from the top of the creation.  A childhood art.  Maybe you remember it?

I touched it with my toe.

I couldn't believe it.  It was a ROCK.  It was a ROCK.  Resting in the only way it COULD have been resting to even "see" the castle it so obviously was.  If that rock had rolled from the sea and come to lay on the sand in ANY other position, it would have been "the castle that never existed".  A rather brown, drab ROCK.

Mother Nature's miniature castle.  There she stood.  From the power and strength of the cliffs and oceans to the delicate, intricate little sweet castle.  She seemed to laugh and say, "Forever, you all try to emulate me.  I've been able to mimic you, too.  And, by the way, thanks for dropping by!"

She called.  I listened.  She had a miracle to reveal.  She worked a long time to make her gift.  For that, I am so very grateful.  Thank you, Glorious Mother Nature. Happy Thanksgiving to YOU, too!

Humanitarians Work in Regions of Conflict

Humanitarians often work in regions
of conflict while risking their own lives

It is not surprising that people react with hatred toward those who humiliate them, control their movement, or deny their rights. There is nothing theoretically interesting in the individual or collective experience of anger and hate as a reaction to power that imposes helplessness on us or denies our very being. This is hatred as a response to power.  (Aljazeera.com)

Human rights, oppression, politics...and psychoanalysis?  In this Season of Giving, Gratitude, and Peace, Niza Yanay discusses the psychology of hatred as being the repression of love, denial of attachment, and fears of dependence that may play a role in political relations. She considers the "enemy" as the "forever lost friend" and peace as possible.  What do you think?  Can such volatile relations lead to positive change if we embrace a new understanding of peace, love, and "the other" as "one of us"?  Do the answers lie with humanitarians who risk their lives each day living with a collective respect for peace and the health of all of humanity -- while celebrating diversity?

Stress Breath

Stress relief is simpler than you think.  When you feel that unmistakeable rise in your heart rate or that tightness in your muscles, there is a quick way to restore a sense of calm.  You may not have the time or place for an extended workout or a few moments to meditate or perform your favorite relaxation exercises.  Maybe a public speaking engagement is moments away.

Try this quick cleanse.  It won't require your running shoes or visualizing a tropical island!

Just once, inhale as deeply as you can, filling your entire diaphragm with air, imagining that you will be blowing into a balloon. Exhale through your lips as if you are trying to fill the balloon with as much air as possible.  Holding your lips in a "balloon blowing", pursed manner is a very important part of this exercise -- as is blowing out as if it is a balloon you are attempting to inflate.

You will feel the immediate difference this makes.  If you have not yet made breathing exercises an important part of your health routine, this may be your chance to introduce yourself to healthy breathing!

It is surprising how long we sustain ourselves on shallow breathing -- expecting that our bodies and minds can function on so little of what we need to survive -- oxygen!!  We drink water, eat, sleep, exercise...it's amazing...what we too often forget?  Breathing...feel the difference.  Take a Stress Breath...and feed oxygen to the starving tissues of your mind and body.  They will thank you for it!

Meant to Hear

With the exception of someone explicitly asking or crying out for help, most of us do our best not to overhear conversations.  To not...eavesdrop.  However, after reading a bit about "awareness" and listening to messages around us, messages that are essentially meant for us, I left to take a walk and photograph some scenes at a local pier.  Not even "aware" that what I had read had left that much of an impression on me.

Minding my own business, or so I thought, I was standing and photographing a scene when I heard an unlikely group of friends approaching.  A well-dressed man and woman were casually walking toward me.  They appeared to live a comfortable life.  Well-kept clothing.  They carried the accessories of tourists traveling the coast.  Beside them, a bearded man, draped in a heavy, worn, over-sized coat.  His shoulders round and hunched under the weight of a tremendous knapsack.  Garbage bags filled the tilted, twisted bike basket on the front of his rickety, rusted, squeaking metal machine that had obviously seen better days.  He rolled his old mangled friend alongside his limping left leg with all the respect that a man of his means could give his true love and most-prized possession.

I didn't hear the majority of the discussion.  Thank goodness.  I always feel that I have more than enough of my own business to attend to without even thinking about hearing others' conversations.  But, I did hear one line.  One line rose above the sweet sound of the fog horn and shouts of fisherman advertising their catches.

The homeless stranger, who I now consider a sage, let out a prickly, gruff noise and out came a statement that said so much in so few words.

Out from behind his grizzly beard he snorted, "Why would I give an opinion about something I know nothing about"?

Wow.  The context was irrelevant.  The statement rang true.  A truth that stood alone.  A fact that simply existed.  Outside of space and time.  Untouched by the limits of any one conversation.

How many of us could learn so much from just that?  Just listening, learning, seeking, keeping the peace by not feeling that our opinions were necessary.  Just listening or saying the dreaded, "I don't know".  Not having all the answers for things which we just truly can't answer.  Allowing the words of those with greater personal experience just stand.  Uncontested.  Humbly admit we just know nothing...until we know something -- and being comfortable in acknowledging our uncertainty.

I don't know where you are, Sir.  I don't know if you still carry your cumbersome load and you continue to stroll your seasoned machine down the sidewalk or into the brush by the sea.  I do know that you changed my life, and I will never forget the mark you made on me personally.  The gift you gave to me.  A question that I will remember far longer than my "eavesdropping" reading.

What's strangely sad for me?  I will never be able to tell you, "Thank you".  But, Sir, thank you...wherever the road takes you...thank you.  From me.  A sweet lesson I will never forget.  Words I was meant to hear.

Green Clay Mask for Men and Women

Out-of-this-world tranquility using only natural "of-this-world" ingredients!

Don't wish, wait and hope for the day that you'll have time to care for and cleanse your mind and body.   Seize this day and create your own at home spa experience. Create your own oasis and approach your life with new found clarity and focus.  You will become your very own source of tranquility and inspiration.

If you have never experienced the benefits, both physically and mentally, of a clay mask, it is definitely time to do so.  There is no doubt that having a dutiful spa technician prepare and apply a mask is a wonderful luxury, but you may find that it is next to impossible to just work in the time to schedule the appointment.  Planning relaxation becomes a stress in and of itself.

Sure.  You may not want to answer the door bell while you're enjoying the mask at home.  But, after all, isn't that the idea?

A simple clay mask will amaze you with its benefits as you productivity improves, your senses become far more acute, and your focus will become remarkable.  If that's not enough, you will actually be physically healthier and look refreshed as well.  So, add this simple, homemade spa mask recipe to those index cards for healthy dinner possibilities and make this a staple -- stay healthy on the inside and out!

2 TBS Green Clay
1 tsp. aloe vera gel
1 tsp. macadamia oil
1 tsp. honey
1 tsp. pumpkin seed oil (or almond, olive or sesame oil)
3 tsp green tea (or variation 3 tsp. sandlewood hydrosol)
5 drops vitamin E (optional)
1 drop roman chamomile
1 drop sandlewood
1 drop ylang ylang

Mix until smooth, spreadable "mud-like" texture.  Apply to face, neck, and upper chest for 15 minutes, once a week.  Do not apply more often.  This healing clay has very strong cleansing properties.  Makes approximately 2 masks.  Refrigerate and use within one month.  Warm container in a warm water bath for any refrigerated portions.

After cleansing:  Finish with a cucumber hydrosol spritz and light application of almond oil.

Recommendations:
While enjoying the mask, place chilled cucumber slices over the eyes and play soothing music to provide additional health benefits.  Tibetan flute, chants, or meditation music is a perfect accompaniment.