The New In Renewal

I find this to be the most interesting time of year. That period between Christmas or Hanukkah and New Year's Day where we seem to float, a bit disengaged, tangled in the memories of the past year and bursting with the urge to start over. Filled with the need to begin anew and aligning ourselves with visions of resolution. We begin charting a course towards becoming what we feel would be a better person. Most likely we've overindulged a bit with the holiday parties and dinners. It might be that the stress meter is running a little higher than normal particularly if you've had to fight mall traffic or sit next to an unpleasant in-law over the course of a family meal.

Yes, culturally we've set ourselves up for the promise of change. As if one we go to the sea murmuring "My new year's resolutions will solve that ___", "All I need to fix is this and I'll be ___", "Well on the first of January I'll start to ___" - you fill in the blanks. We're primed; we've guzzled and gulped, simmered with apprehension over gifts and family, and in the small hours of the morning hung our heads in remorse at past misdeeds of the fleeing year.

What better time for transformation. The urge is built into our behavior. It's become a part of our societal DNA. We go running hard and then slam up against this wall of promise - the New Year, the New You, the New Life, ah I love the sound of that - who doesn't? What's going on though? It seems like we're bringing to the forefront our weaknesses, our faults and identifying with them. In this post-partum moment we say to ourselves "I need to change". This is all good but the fly in the ointment is that we've've built up this pressure behind it. So instead of examining habits and inclinations and forging a new spirit evoked by gradual change we reach out and proclaim "I must be New!" This is the fallacy of our current lifestyle. We're conditioned to expect that we can get what we want quickly and relatively easy. Simply proclaim the new and improved You hence you are now new and improved.

True change is a laborious process, not altogether unpleasant, but it requires a lot of work, daily work, with a constant vigilance towards keeping on the path. We get all wound up with this concept of New, of being transformed. If we're not careful we mistake the process for the purpose. Rare is the legitimate overnight shift to a new way of being, even less often that St. Paul moment with a vision striking you into conversion, real upheaval, to the core, not merely conversant in the terms of conversion (unless of course you are chosen by God to be a saint, then all previous comments need not apply).

Revolutions, you may notice, generally only replace the people in charge. As The Who succinctly put it, "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss". What modifies societies and people in a permanent fashion is an underlying current of evolutionary behavior. It is wave after wave that reshapes the ledges of the shore just as it is slow tidal movements from deep within that fashion a new life. Ultimate change comes from small actions practiced over and over with awareness of purpose. This is yoga.

I'm not saying don't make resolutions. I think they're good for you and help you focus on what you want. I have a few myself. What I am pointing out is that you should prepare to undergo the long journey if you want permanent change. That brief momentary feeling of victory where you start from a gully of remorse and then climb to the edge and look out over a field of poppies is seductive but misleading. The new you is better served with small, insightful steps bearing a course that aligns with your spiritual nature. Trust that you'll get there without banners and proclamations but simply arrive when your Being is ready to accept what is.

Start by dropping the New from Renewal and work with what's left ~ Real.

photo credit: Sunburst by John Gavrille

The Cycles of Remorse

What are the limitations of our being? Does it not seem at times we fail not because we are incapable but simply because we choose not to reach beyond the boundaries we create for ourselves. Or even harsher, we let others set our path, becoming in essence a confirmation of their view of us in their world model. We say, in surrender: "This is who I am, this is who I must be".

We accept these borders and live into them as it is often is an easier road to success as defined by our peers and patronage than discovering new territories within. Our history, our demons of yesterday, lay claim to us and offer us respite from uncertainty by delivering behaviors we have followed in the past that have not produced success but rather relieved uncertainty. They provide comfort of course as this is familiar ground we have been over before and sinking into these actions, relishing these passions, allows us to turn off that insistent cry which is in essence the struggle for healing within our soul.

The myth is that this time it's different, this time I know what I'm getting into, while not realizing that what brought us here before was a flawed view of ourselves and feeding our weaknesses again is yet another attempt to assuage our fear of really seeing who we are. Oft times we fail to realize this but internally something sits uncomfortably and we view our actions, when we find a breathe of clarity, with a certain unease that remains intangible yet persistent.

We all have a light within us that shines forth. Some claim that light and recognize it as a beacon and gather others, acting as guides for them in some small way spreading love and joy in all their words. Others fear their light. They are cognizant of their capabilities but have a loathing within themselves of who they are. They use what gifts they have to collect around them those who would only confirm the shallow necessities of their limitations, to feed their hunger for self worth.

This is not to judge but merely to say - look within your nature, examine your actions. The mirror to your declarations of higher consciousness, to a more mindful presence, is the extent to which you are honest with yourself. Do you act simply because it feels good, damn what harm may come to others. Or even worse, carry disdain for those you perceive as weaker because they have not achieved some goal that your limited being chose for measurement. If you cannot even recognize these questions, shrug and say they never apply to me then you are indeed who I am talking to. Those who do not self examine continuously, strike with confidence but not concern, rely on aphorism when wisdom is required, these are often the most frightened of individuals. Their only recourse for respite is to accumulate followers in fashion and falsely believe the trumpets of acclaim that ring forth.

Love guides all warriors of Spirit. Not lust, not passion for recognition, not the security derived from positions of power. Love speaks simply in words of Truth. Love acts righteously without conscious thought. Love is. If all your deeds, all your being, does not first begin with Love then stop and find that small place within where Love exists and start again to build from there. This is the ground from which all true change comes from, the only soil capable of nurturing the roots we all need.

out of kindness I suppose

This is a bit tough for me, in a way I'm dragging myself back to this forum not because I want to write but because I have to. I'm struggling inside right now; of course I'll work it out but you - if you choose, can share in this process. What's in it for you? Well I have no real confidence in my entertainment value, certainly I can't compete with Dancing With The Stars but maybe I can give you a tickle that resonates somewhere deep within. Perhaps provide the shadow of a thought that runs through your mental stream as well as mine.

I was walking today around the small body of water that I tend to circle once or twice a week chewing on my thoughts when I looked over at a man walking towards me, a bit older than I and much more weathered. I nodded and went back to my revery when, as we passed he looked at me and said "no one really cares." A bit odd, sure, but you meet all kinds and normally I just smile and keep walking, perhaps a little swifter until I'm out of earshot but today, for some reason I don't know why, I guess I was feeling a bit melancholy, I stopped and looked at him and said "you're right - no one cares." He looked at me for a bit and then said "You know there are over a thousand homeless veterans in this city and no one gives a damn." Ok I had his number now, he was dressed appropriately and seemed cognizant, wasn't a bum and definitely a vietnam era soldier. I can tell, I've been around them enough. I told him I too was a veteran though not of Vietnam and abruptly he turned in my direction and with a nod we began to walk together, talking about the problems of post traumatic syndrome. He was retired and now he worked with the homeless and with the mentally ill in prison. He had a mission and I let him go on and on about the injustices and the efforts and the enormity of the problem and his little push back at the great beast. Pre-retirement he had spent his career building low cost housing in the south. This was a man of great passion and in the face of immense adversity stood with his back held straight facing into the winds of misfortune, rescuing whom he could. We didn't talk long maybe twenty minutes before we went our separate ways. At parting we exchanged names, his was David, same as mine. He looked at me, cocked his head and said you know what David means in Hebrew? I didn't - "Beloved of God" he said. I smiled and thanked him and went along my journey home. This short conversation has stayed with me all day today and now I feel how it's pulled and tugged at my inner landscape until these words come spilling out.

Why does this affect me so? As I struggled I think I stumbled upon a small part of the equation. I've been caught up in my own little world. When things didn't turn out the way I wanted or I became confused because I couldn't understand something I would retreat and hide behind a dark, quiet exterior. God knows I don't want to turn this into an emo blog but it's important for me to understand the lessons of the universe as best I can whenever they're offered.

This man today survived his life. I say survived accurately, because he too had suffered post traumatic disorders and survived only by reaching within and finding a deep passion for helping others like him. This is the model I think we could all do well to emulate. Not necessarily dedicating our lives to helping the misfortunate, a great concept but I certainly couldn't do it. No, the model is really to acquire or rather bring forth a passion from within that inspires you and others. Not just raise it to the surface and wave it as a flag but to live into that passion fully, to own it and identify yourself with it, acknowledging that to this concept you are willing cede control, raising it above the petty concerns that others would weigh you down with.

I know we grow so diffused by the everyday struggles that when we do find dreams or desires that fit this bill they seem impossibly far way or even silly. We say no, I can't have that, tone it down and settle for something 'reasonable'. We compromise and continue in a half hearted fashion, justifying it all along the way. "I have responsibilities, they need me, I'm not capable of that." Never once do we live into our full being, never for a moment considering that in our reason and passion for existence, all these problems, these concerns, are solved as a by-product of our reach for glory. The Universe does not play to an empty dance hall. The band knows the dancers and each affect the other.

Or we look inside and discover emptiness, well it's not really that we're empty, we're just not letting a light shine into the right spaces. It's there, but truthfully, it takes a bit of confidence and pure plain guts to grab something and run with it. If you don't have that - well, then what are you doing here, you should have checked out after the second paragraph. Of course it's there, it's you who's scared to accept it, to taste it, to play with it and be played with. Maybe it doesn't look like what everybody has told you it should look like - 'all your fucking life'. Frankly - screw 'em. It has to grab you and captivate you, force you to take a deep breath in awe and ecstasy, knowing that this is why you're here, this is it, this is the reason - and then it doesn't let you go. When you get to that point where you're scared breathless and shitting bricks well then, dammit, grasp the lightning bolt and shimmy on board howling in pure glory and grit and ride it all the way down to the strike. Then get up, shake yourself off and look for the next bolt. You deserve to have this much fun in this world, in this life.

My passions are writing, painting, philosophy and designing/developing cutting edge software so rad it rattles your teeth. My love is serving my community, my fellow yogis and assisting them with grace and tenderness. This they return in kind and I revel in the energy we build together during the space and time of a vinyasa session. My greatest gifts are my beloved friendships. This is a relatively new concept to me. I've had friends of course, good friends - trustworthy and generous but now, around me is a small group whom I love deeply and they, in turn, love me to no end and this is a truly great honor, this is my Guard. The Universe, when we allow it, smotes( I do like this word) us boldly and says Go Forth! Go, do not rest on mundane matters but raise your challenges as a road in front of you and each mile you cover begets a span of passion, each moment you grow emboldens you and allows you to overcome that which would deny you your true heritage, your magnificent purpose, at this moment on this planet - to be a shining, infinite being that lights the way for others.

The Way Of Love Is Not

This, dear reader, will be my last post on this site. I am finished here. It's not to say that my writing is complete, no, I will continue but I need to focus on other matters and explore a different venue for a time.

More to the point though. If you've followed my posts you realize that I started this venture as a way to chart some of the feelings I was dealing with. These were in response to crossing paths with someone who affected me deeply. I'm still not sure why I gave her permission to reach me so. I don't regret it but it's time to move on.

In general, I've always kept my affairs light and non-consequential, ever ready to leave when the wind blows in a different direction. Here I forgot that and settled into being committed, not only to a person but to a concept. Funny though, I never got the same from her. That was a hard lesson to learn. She said once that a soul mate is someone who pushes your buttons. So true.

Instinctively when we met I knew I wanted to be caught, have my soul dredged, shaken in some unknown fashion. This scared me deeply yet I had a foreshadowing that she was the person I'd been waiting for, for just this purpose. I needed to feel the angst of an unrequited relationship, the longing and melancholy that it brings, those things I'd inured myself against years ago, swearing never to be moved by anyone, never to seem vulnerable. For such a long time and so many encounters I was successful. I touched yet was never touched. I could roll out of bed, throw a coat 'round my shoulders and be off down the road without a backward glance. I left many behind and seemingly now they had returned to haunt me in the guise of my passion for this one woman. Perhaps I fulfilled some need inside for her, she never told me and I was never able to discover my role in her life. This was painful yet I paid my dues. These last two years have been difficult to say the least. In my throes I have visited each distant affair as well as I could remember and asked forgiveness. I am done.

So here I am, not young but not old and not sure how to build a meaningful bond with another individual. In a way I feel brand new, like the fresh pink skin appearing from beneath a scab that you peel off in morbid fascination. I am more open now than I've ever been in my life. It's a little terrifying but also invigorating. I cannot use, no longer have, the same talents I had before to win my way into a woman's favor. It's just me and what I really want is to find a partner to dance with. Someone with a simple grace and an easy smile who doesn't ask for much except that I love her above all else. Now, that will be easy.

The Man Watching

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can't bear without a friend,
I can't love without a sister

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestler's sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Focus

Fear conquers most. Focus conquers fear.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Been thinking a lot about ghosts lately. Right now I'm sitting here drinking a red wine called Irony, seriously. I picked it up just because of the label. Tonight I need a little less sobriety and a great deal more appreciation for the irony in this world. It's these damn ghosts that have come around again. Not content to clutter the attic or rattle chains in the basement, they have to come out to sit on my lap, look me in the eye and tell me how much they care for me as they shred my self esteem.

We are all haunted by ghosts. Not necessarily those of the deceased. In fact, the worst ghosts are the images and memories of those who are still around, who we occasionally cross paths with, who once we loved, perhaps still do. These ethereal beings remind us in some facet that we have failed, that a road we might have chosen was not taken. They relish in this, these ghosts. They look at us and moan - "what could have been, what have you missed, why didn't you do this...." in that spooky way that sends chills through you and flips your eyelids back in the small hours of the morning to stare at the ceiling waiting for the next breath and not sure if it's going to come. These ghosts, these hauntings, they feed on us. They need us for their existence and we have no seeming power to dispel them.

I know we are all haunted. It's in our eyes. Some make peace with their ghosts and keep them contained as little mice in the back of the closet. The pitter-patter of their feet is audible but the door remains shut and so they scamper about scratching and are only really noticeable at particularly quiet times. Generally these kind of people don't like quiescent moments so they're always rushing about, always busy just so they're never curious about the sounds coming from the closet. This is not really being honest about your apparitions and believe me, they tend to grow in that closet because they know you haven't forgotten them. At some point when the door does burst open, well then you've got a parade on your hands and you're reaching for the medicine cabinet.

Others keep their ghosts close at hand - dinner companions and pillow partners. They are never far from these supernatural barnacles. They feed their ghosts syrupy concoctions of regret and concern, dumplings of remorse, a main course of flagellation and end with a desert of self denial. Their ghosts are fat and sassy. A collection of malodorous spirits marching up and down the corridors of our lives, imperious in their demands, snapping with disdain at behaviors that don't support their gaseous hides.

We come to rely on our ghosts. They're always there, they're never unfaithful in their demands - they always just want more. More time in our thoughts, more focus of our emotions, more space in our future. But they don't want to give us anything in return - they can't, they're ghosts. They don't exist except in our minds. They offer us nothing but take from us all that they can.

I don't know why we give them this power. Lord knows I would like to sit down with my ghosts and have that conversation but these are intangible drifts of thought. If I could gather them and face them in the light of day I'm sure they would disperse, contrite at what they are doing. No, their power comes from the fact that we don't face them, we flee from them. We always have them behind us, over our shoulder. We always hear their footsteps but we never have the nerve to stop, turn around and take a good look at what a ghost really is. If we did they would simply dissipate. Their power lies in inducing us to run away, to say to ourselves, "There's something wrong with me and I can't face it". This is what emboldens them, this is what keeps them in existence.

In truth, you haunt yourself. These ghosts are of your design. Their presence comes at the cost of your endowments. They rob you of your potential but the dirty secret is, they are you. You choose how large they are, how frequently they come around, you give them permission to haunt you because you don't have the courage to laugh at them. Take heed, I'm not saying this lightly. The harmony of laughter within is spring rain for the Self. To laugh is to be confident in who you are - until you reach that you will always run scared from these apparitions, always feel compelled to pay them the dues they demand. The only way to regain power is to understand that these ghosts serve no lasting purpose and the proper response to their wails of despair and pleas for attention is to smile, acknowledge their existence, then laugh a bit at them and at yourself and how insecure you are at times. Send them on their way and go on with your life, a perfect Being, brushing the dust off your soul.

"Eppur si muove"

"Everything is okay in the end. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end." ~unknown


Been bouncing around inside my head lately - caught up with contagion and catastrophe, the echoing halls, receding laughter and the quiet steps of time - measured and resolute. Through all though one word rises each day as I do. Out of the cacophony it reaches, steadfast throughout my being, reverberating like a bell, at times resembling the sound of a fog bound buoy, at times a crisp, clean, clarion peal beseeching me from a church steeple. The word is hope.

It's a funny word, it's a funny concept. Not sure how to wrap my head around it. I know it's a necessary part of our being but I don't trust it. Nope, not after all these years, not after all I've seen. And yet I embrace it when it does return, as it always will, and not just in an accepting way but naively, with sincerity, as if I had never been here before. That's the wonder of it. Like a drug it alleviates the bad memories and insists that the good was better, more vibrant than remembered. With a little more work, a little more luck - maybe a corner not yet turned - some magic thrown into the mix and the world will be delivered to your door. Ah - how I love that feeling.

And let's face it - we're all hope junkies. We wouldn't be striving the way we are without this hunger. We wouldn't be scared so much that things might not work out because without hope we would have no concept of how it might be. How beautiful and strong our lives, our passions, might blossom. Without hope, well, we really wouldn't care would we? And I know you care.

What I ask myself in my work, in my daily dialogue regarding this feeling is how do I know for sure that what I hope for is really what I want. A litmus test to assess and probe, to understand the liminal behavior that may at times border on neurotic. You see hope is a bit indiscriminate in taste but a demanding lover. Once embraced, hope will not leave willingly. The best we can do is understand that we are going to fail to some extent the rule of logic when dancing with this inamorata. We can be certain of suffering through extreme emotional imbalance and the ever popular pangs of self doubt. And there is no guarantee that by enveloping our lives with this hope stuff that we will achieve what we desire, there is no ticket to this show, no reserved seating - you just get in line and wait.

Yet still I hope. Strongly, fiercely, with resolution I allow this flame to consume me and willingly I burn. Laughing at times, crying at others - I never give up hope, I never will. Hope is the measuring stick by which we judge our accomplishments. There is nothing more precious to our essence than to hope and to find reward from that quest. This is why we risk so much, day in and day out. The delivery through hope, the resolution of hope, is sustenance for the soul. Without hope we do not persevere, we do not grow, we do not exist.

So don't ever question your hope, embrace it and savor it. Certainly monitor your behavior around it, understanding that it is a powerful compulsion but know that your hope is your godliness. Your acts on this earth are all evolved from hope and with innocence it is an alter worthy of your sacrifice.

It Is Not Enough

It is not enough to see
but to also feel.
It is not enough to love
but to also honor.
It is not enough to hope
but to also dream.
It is the gentle, trembling touch
of one soul to another
that unlocks the mysteries
of our existence and nurtures
the roots deep within our being
from which to grow.

A Calm Sea Never Made A Great Sailor

There are few things I enjoy more at the end of the day than a glass of wine and penning a good sentence. So too there are few things that bring a greater fear to my heart. This struggle, this challenge, this urge to create is accompanied close within by a familiar of utter fright. I find I am haunted by the limitations of my ability. Over the years this has led me far from pursuing what I love. It's not so much that I dread others viewing my work or worry about the criticisms or ennui that I may induce. It's my own dance I'm doing and the demon band plays a tune I've scored myself.

I had forgotten the first lesson of true artistry. That is, once you start you have little control and the piece takes you where it will. I've been researching the world lately, traveling and asking questions, - listening closely to the finest thinkers I can find, reading their works, pondering their message. I was looking for my translation of the current socio-economic situation and treading water while attempting to compose a magnus opus addressing what I have found. In truth though, I've come to believe that there is no narrative, at the moment, capable of capturing the subtle twists rippling through our culture. The situation we find ourselves in has a unique cast in the pall of current history. Yet in my soul I know something is shifting, some rough beast, whose hour has come round at last, now slouches towards Bethlehem. This I feel deep within.

To me, it is a strident call. These times demand more from us. It is the perihelion of a cycle that melts the wax and exposes us to to the harsh rule of gravity. I believe now we can no longer sit aside and make casual observations, it's time to turn towards true commitment.

I know I'm leading you on a strange path - forgive me, I'm reaching for feeling more than words and my lexical skills will not readily map to my study of the mountain passes. I ran a race this past weekend with a dear friend and she kindly let me entertain her with stories from my youth to preoccupy us as we trudged along, the first serious run of the season. I was telling her about a time when I was military and they taught us how to run and fight. I remember a key part of my training back then was counter intuitive to mine, and most people's nature. We were strenuously conditioned to move towards gunfire, towards explosions, instantaneously, with little thought and no hesitation.

This was a lesson they learned the hard way in past wars. In general, you would be moving along on a patrol and if it was not your lucky day you might walk into an ambush consisting of non friendly types firing at you from multiple directions. At this point most freeze and duck for cover, if so, then your odds of survival are very slim, particularly if they know what they're doing when they set up the ambush. The guys who trained us (mind you some of them had left pieces behind in the jungles of Southeast Asia) figured out the the proper technique for minimizing your losses in this kind of situation. You immediately turn and move into the firing line, ideally back the way you came or forward depending on the terrain, fast and hard, pouring everything you have into the breach and hoping to god that you break through and come out behind the ambush - then it gets tricky for the other guy. You may realize that this doesn't often work well for either side but the only other option is to sit there and be decimated. Not a game I like to play.

I use this now as a metaphor for the times we're in. We've been ambushed in a way, not by any enemy but by ourselves. We've been lulled these past years into believing many things that were not quite true or that were obvious in their malignant nature yet passing or suspending judgment when the right answer was to rise above the seduction of the market and foment fundamental changes. Accepting and absolving when we should have been more strident in our demands that our culture match the spiritual grace we know we deserve. Now we pay the price.

So the answer I have is to turn into the fire, moving swiftly towards the unknown, striking out and hoping to break through and achieve some grasp of the situation. My goal is to gain access to a point of communication and use it as a tool to put information out that will effectively support the coming changes our culture is beginning to witness. Find mechanisms that allow me to present what I am coming to understand as necessary in a society that is rapidly decompressing and undergoing fundamental transformation. There's an old adage that I've tongued for years - "Never pick a fight with a man who buys ink by the barrel".

Makes sense to me - so much so that I've started a small company bent on moving into the publishing business in this high tech, new world order. We're going to put out a magazine, mobile in nature, designed to be read on your cell phone and other types of smaller devices. I say magazine because that's the closest word I can think of to describe what I want to produce but it really doesn't do the media potential justice.

I have a strong track record of creating products and projects but always strictly in the technology field and backed up by market analysts and preppies sporting MBAs like tennis rackets. Here, my heart leads for the first time and the product, while inclusive of cutting edge technology, is really about creative content. These are days that require people with voices to speak up and make assertions and calls for actions that move us in the right direction. Hopefully I will discover and bring to a greater audience those whose thoughts and spirit might guide us a bit more consciously. That's the role I'm trusting to sign on to as a publisher. And as far as moving into the fire, this is probably one of the scariest places to be at the moment, trying to establish a new endeavor in the media industry.

Rest assured, I'm well trained.

to listen without words...

True strength is not measured by how hard we hold on, but by how gently we let go.

Crossing The Rubicon

When he came to the river Rubicon, which parts Gaul within the Alps from the rest of Italy, his thoughts began to work, now he was just entering upon the danger, and he wavered much in his mind, when he considered the greatness of the enterprise into which he was throwing himself. He checked his course, and ordered a halt, while he revolved with himself, and often changed his opinion one way and the other, without speaking a word. This was when his purposes fluctuated most; presently he also discussed the matter with his friends who were about him, (of which number Asinius Pollio was one,) computing how many calamities his passing that river would bring upon mankind, and what a relation of it would be transmitted to posterity. At last, in a sort of passion, casting aside calculation, and abandoning himself to what might come, and using the proverb frequently in their mouths who enter upon dangerous and bold attempts, "The die is cast," with these words he took the river. Once over, he used all expedition possible, and before it was day reached Ariminum, and took it.

From Suetonius Life of Julius Caesar

There comes a point in the journey of commitment where key decisions are made, acts which determine the flow of future events. It is the ability to recognize these moments that defines the power of our being. We may not, no - we do not know if the outcome is to our favor but within we realize that the failure to act is in itself a failure to hold true to what we believe.

II

I cannot find the string that binds
my being to this universe.

The cord that fed me then bled abandoned.

The twining stump at my belly,
reminding me that I was once a part of something more.

True North

The Heart has a compass of its own, different from the affairs of men.

It's My Nature...

There's an old fable that's been passed around a bit which I'm going to reach for once again to introduce a thought.

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a river. Now the frog is mighty afraid of the scorpion but the scorpion just asks, "Frog - will you carry me across the river on your back?". The frog replies, "How do I know you won't sting me while I'm carrying you?" The scorpion says, "Why then I would drown." The frog mulls this over a bit and reluctantly agrees. Halfway across the river the frog feels a sharp prick in his back and realizes that the scorpion has indeed stung him. He cries out, "Why scorpion, why have you stung me, now we'll both die." And the scorpion replies, "It's my nature..."

How often do we engage in acts of self destruction, in deeds that leave us feeling less than whole, behaviors we perform that leave us looking at ourselves and saying - I don't like what I just saw. How hard do we beat ourselves up when we realize that we've done this. How intensely do we critique our own nature? And perhaps more importantly - if there is an aspect of our being that we recognize as problematic, now I'm not talking about losing five pounds or eating more vegetables, I'm speaking more towards a core personality trait, is it possible to do something different? Can we change our nature?

Well, it begins by accepting what is true. This may be the hardest part. We have a nagging suspicion that something's not right or we'll look in the metaphysical mirror and go "why did I just do that?" All too often we blow it off, blame it on other people or say that's just the way I am. We don't really own the experience - we disassociate ourselves. It's not our fault or they don't understand me so I don't really care.

On the other hand, we may retreat into our own heads and put up defensive walls. We begin with "I'm a bad person" and let the dialogue continue from there, dragging us down in the muck of our own self wallowing. Somehow we think that this will redeem us, purify us in some fashion as if doing penance is our own little way of keeping score with God. "Have I broken even yet, Lord?"

All this begs the question - are you really bad? Is what you're doing really all that harmful? It may leave you with a small distaste but are you hurting people aside from yourself? If the answer's yes then you need to fix this, that's just not good karma. If the only person being maligned is little ole' you then you have the option to either accept it or work on growing into some other frame of mind.

Here is the litmus test. Who is being hurt by the way you act? If it's just you, relax, work on fixing it, chuckle when you fall into old patterns but then realign yourself and go out to test yourself again and again. This is spiritual growth, it's the only game worth playing so enjoy the contest between your will of now and your will to become.

If you're causing harm to others well, that's a much more serious proposition. This may at times be difficult to recognize. A disservice to someone may not be as forthright as dealing them an emotional blow. It may be that you are subtly preventing them from growing towards what they could potentially become. Perhaps you interact with them in a less than honest fashion, leaving the residue of guilt after each conversation. The Universe does not appreciate this.

In this case, possibly, you are the scorpion. Think long and hard here. What you do may provide you some obtuse pleasure or feel justified in your own personal weaving of the the world but ask yourself - am I also drowning in the process?

We can change, we have many options. We can choose not to sting but rather have a conversation and get to the other side. We can seek to avoid crossing the river for it may not be all that important. Some may say, this is the only way I'm going to learn how to swim, so be it but I'm not writing any insurance policies on you. And then there is a faction out there who I have run across that just accept this as the way it is. This is my nature...

For those of you in the last category, inevitably you know who you are, pay heed. The Universe has gifted you awareness for a purpose, do not squander that bounty. Do not let your nature in this limited plane define your existence, rather let your true essence guide you and grow into that being that is your spiritual inheritance. Do not strike when your purpose is merely to get to the other side, you have the choice. Nature is not the final arbitrator of our actions rather it is our intent, our determination, our desire for enlightenment that shepherds our growth and truly gives us the ultimate pleasure. Hold thy sting, enjoy the ride, get to the other side.

Another Thought

The cold that cleanses, the wind, which etches its freedom on my soul.

The Other Side of Blue

Been feeling sad lately and I don't think I'm alone. Seems like waves of melancholia are passing over and through us. I see it in the faces of the people I pass on the street, as they sit on the subway or wait in line. It's the time of year, it's the weather, it's post-resolution realities, it's the aftermath of the joy and excitement from a change in government, it's many things. I believe a large part of it is that we undergo growth more this time of year than any other. Most of us have taken a good look at ourselves over the holidays, they always seem to bring a reflective mood, and are now setting out on some course of action, some refashioning of ourselves into a newer, stronger persona.

They say sorrow is the Spirit carving space into your soul so you can have more room for love. I buy that. Being inconsolable for a bit is a necessary task much like cleaning out the closet - reorganizing and refolding. We need these sad times. They are what brand the acts of change we strive to undertake with earnestness. Without sorrow we would not have the feeling of "hey, I've been down but now I'm getting back up on my feet". There would be no sense of accomplishment, no momentum to propel us as we journey. It's a needed perspective pure and simple. Sadness is an absolution, a necessary mourning for the changes we are about to undergo. The spring will bring a different you and this is simply a way of honoring those habits and rituals you will leave behind.

The key though is to know when you've had enough. Being down can be somewhat addictive. It's a place where you don't have to take action, where you don't feel as responsible for invigorating your life and implementing events that you want and desire. It's a place where you can blow things off easily and that makes it seductive. Coming out of sorrow is like coming off of a fast, there are right ways and wrong ways. The wrong way is to bounce in and out, taking tepid steps and dragging it on long past the point of its purpose, making it a crutch that you lean on when things get a little tough. The wrong way is to not to be aware and acknowledge that you're ending a period of temperamental discomfort. Sort of just burying everything and becoming super cheerful to all around you. Melancholy is a useful, necessary tool for our emotional enlightenment, we should honor it as such.

The right way is really up to you. It's certainly a very individual thing but be assured within you lies the proper manner and methodology for spiritual growth after a period of such reflection. You just have to find it, as you've probably instinctively found it in the past. I have a whole toolbox full of things that I use. In this period I'll reach in and try different devices to see what works at any particular moment and sets me on the right path.

There's a line a friend said to me many years ago. "You're the kind of guy who, if he was shot down deep within enemy territory, would not only make his way back to friendly lines but leave behind a string of franchises on the way out". Twenty-plus years later I can still pull up that conversation in my mind's vision and it still brings a smile to my face. This is a tool.

I reach for the paints or writing or something creative - you should too. Right now I've fired up the piano and I've been trying wrap my head around some blues. I am so rusty but I've managed to lay down the beginnings of a new song. I don't really know how it goes yet but it includes the line - "Your teeth don't fit that bite mark no more". It may become a classic someday. Another tool. Figure out how to make yourself smile and the Spirit will know where to take you.

So, to wrap things up, it's ok to be sad, particularly this time of year. In fact, it's almost mandatory, you've got to make way for the new. However, when you're ready to start growing, then take off, like a shoot out of the soil and don't look back and don't forget. Go as high and as wide as you are able, soak up the sunlight, reach deep into the earth, prosper and flourish. Become everything you can in the season of You.

The Word is Propitious

It is not the unknown we should fear, rather it is the small acts of indecision that whittle away our self confidence.

The Gentle Way

I was out to dinner the other night with a friend of mine. We were talking about teaching yoga. She's well on the path to becoming a brilliant yoga teacher. Some small tweaks here and there and a bit of seasoning and she will grow into a fine instructor and an even more compassionate caregiver. She asked me about my goals, whether I would continue to advance my studies and teach someday. I am and will I'm sure but I had to tell her that I'm not ready to teach yet. Not simply because I'm still new at this yoga thing with only a couple of years under my belt but also because the role of teacher to me is sacred and it requires an intense period of self study before I can honestly commit to this intention.

Thinking about this took me back many years to one of the first lessons I learned about teaching. When I was young, so very young and so very foolish, I entered the military. I was full of Hemingway and Kipling and thought how romantic it was to be a soldier seeking adventure in foreign countries. This was before these Gulf wars, at a time when it was generally smaller teams that went into the mountains and jungles and performed various tactical maneuvers. I became very good at what I did and eventually found myself in charge of a small unit training for eclectic sorts of combat missions. While on an exercise I made a decision that ended in the death of one of my men, not a bad decision, just the wrong one. It struck me harder than most and it became clear to me that I was not meant to be a soldier, I could not accept this kind of responsibility and still function, still be human, so I left the military.

I drifted then for a while, west and south, heading for the Mexican border. Drinking a good deal and not caring about much. I wanted to forget the past and I knew, instinctively, that if I crossed the border into Mexico I wasn't coming back. I found myself in Tucson and in a bar one night this woman picked me up and took me home. I was too drunk and ended up passing out on her couch. The next morning she cooked me breakfast and we spent the day talking. She had a spare bedroom and I moved in, instead of lovers we became friends.

Bear with me now, this is where the story begins. She had recently joined a judo club, a dojo, to get in shape and she invited me to attend one night. We went to a small concrete building with no windows in an industrial park on the edge of the desert. I'd never done martial arts before but wasn't too worried. I was very well trained by the military in hand to hand combat, in great shape, and knew I could probably handle anybody in there. Such is the cockiness of youth. Well I entered and there was this class being taught by an old man, I say old, thinking he looked ancient, the difference between twenty-something and sixty-something being far greater then than it seems now, now that I'm on the far side. He welcomed me, got me dressed in a Gi which is the formal attire of one who practices Judo and took me out to the middle of the mats. Then he said, let's spar, you try and throw me.

I was thinking, oh no, I'm going to hurt this guy and everybody's going to be upset with me. So I went in easy, a quick grab and push. The next thing I knew I'm on my back and he's bending over me smiling, asking if I'm ok. I was, a little surprised, the ego a little bruised, but I got back up and went at him again with more intensity and vigor. Again he threw me, and again, and again. That night he threw me many, many times until I was exhausted. He never broke a sweat and I never once seriously got him off balance.

I found out later that he was one of the first westerners ever taught the art of Judo, one of the first to open a place of practice in the United States. That he was a gold medalist in the Pan American games in his youth, five times in a row. This was the preeminent competition in the world of Judo in this hemisphere before it was accepted into the Olympics. That he was a renowned Judoka, meaning one who practices Judo and follows it precepts, and people would come from around the globe to study with him, at this little concrete hut in the middle of the desert. He held advanced degrees in Judo, Karate and Kendo, a master in each field.

So I went back and started to learn. He wouldn't teach me any throws for the first months. He insisted before I threw I had to learn how to fall. So I spent my initial days there letting everybody in the dojo throw me and learning how take a fall. Everyone threw me - I was thrown by white belts, by women, by children. My task was to accept the throw and master the fall and then jump right back up and let them throw me again. At the end of some practices he would take me in the corner and he would throw me, hard, fast with no mercy, just a little smile on his face as he waited for me to get up over and over. I think he expected me to leave after the first few weeks and I almost did, several times, but I stayed and eventually learned how to throw and fight in the judo style. I stayed for many years and he and his wife, also a black belt in Judo, helped me grow towards who I am today.

I became a good fighter and quickly got my brown belt. Eventually I decided it was time for me to attain a black belt and I told my Sensei this. Sensei is the Japanese term for teacher, literally meaning "one who is born ahead". This was how everyone addressed him, even his wife, as Sensei. He laughed and said no, I wasn't ready. I knew Judo, knew the moves and the terminology as well as any black belt but a black belt is a teacher and I was still a fighter.

I fell in love with Judo, mastering it, and over the years the relationship between Sensei and I grew but I always remained a brown belt even as those who started after me garnered their black belt. I was so full of ego back then, so full of myself. Sensei, bless him, didn't give up on me. He was determined to teach me what I really needed to learn. I was still wild, just in my twenties. I had gotten a job and was going to college, doing quite well but I had a streak in me of pure selfishness and I wasn't above hurting people to get what I wanted.

One day he came up to me and said, I'd like you to come work with me, help me in my garden. This was something I didn't want to do. I had a full time job, carried 18 credits at the university, and practiced judo or danced whenever I could and generally slept only a couple of hours a night. Giving up what little free time I had to help him out on weekends was not high on the list of things I had planned. Still, I felt I owed him a great deal for what he had taught me over the years and I began to show up Saturday mornings to help him tend his cactus garden.

Now he had this fantastic garden that was laid out in the Japanese style of zen formation with exotic cacti and small gravel gently raked in various patterns. People would bring him cacti as gifts from terrain around the world and he would place them in his backyard just right. It looked wondrous but taking care of it was a nightmare. I would spend four to five hours there, weeding, trimming, raking and leave bleeding, my skin punctured in multiple places, cursing under my breath, swearing that I'm never coming back. But I always did.

He never said much to me, a sentence or two pointing out what needed to be done. I had thought that I was going to be introduced to some great secrets here, he had studied with Masters and was a Master himself. Yet there were no profound lessons, no deep philosophical treatises on the meaning of life or the inner way of Bushido. We didn't really have conversations, we just worked side by side in silence most of the time.

He was a simple man and he reveled in the non complex ways of life. He said as few words as necessary to convey a point and then he left me alone to figure things out. He could see how frustrated I got sometimes, working in temperatures over 100 degrees, how angry I became when I studied the welts on my arm from brushing against some poisonous plant. He knew that I hated coming to his garden and toiling in the hot sun. But he requested that I return each week and because he was my Sensei, I complied.

This went on for several years until I graduated from the university and felt, for the first time in a long while, home calling to me. I'm a New Englander by nature and this is always where I will feel most comfortable. Before I left we talked about my journey with him and reflected on our time together. It hit me at some point as we reminisced that I had changed drastically. It had never occurred to me to compare myself to who I was when I first arrived in Tucson but he pointed out poignantly what he had seen as I had grown.

His observations cut me like a scalpel, not in a bad way but deep and clean, exposing truths about myself that I had not admitted. I left Tucson a man, having arrived a boy. I could now smile at adversity rather than running from it. I was someone who could face uncomfortable, demanding situations and prevail with calmness and equanimity. A ship built for sailing cross deep waters, far from shore.

He had given me a profound gift and enlightened me to the first lesson of being a great teacher. I learned that in actuality, it is the student who teaches themselves. A teacher can really only guide and support. Honest mentoring provides a point of stability not a dominance of will. The gifted teacher will give their charges room to discover and blossom on their own yet not be afraid to demand growth when necessary. This is a fine balance that many who claim to teach cannot comprehend.

A true teacher is only a guidepost and not the goal. A true teacher recognizes the traps that the ego can fall into. Many would come to our dojo just to honor Sensei because of his fame, practice at his feet so to speak. He would humor them and then send them away after a time. Whenever I fell into this silly kind of thinking he would point to the nastiest corner of the garden and say - go in there and clean things up. My adulation would quickly dissipate, this was his intent. A true teacher understands the difference between respect and servility and moves promptly to prevent the latter.

In the end, in the last days as I was leaving I thought about taking the test to acquire a black belt, then I realized, no, it was only a color. I had all I needed.

It is the Heart

In all matters of import, it is the heart that must lead the way. In truth, the mind and body will follow and the search for honesty echo as a chorus to your days. Your passion is the key to opening doors.

Only the Curious Have Something to Find

They say that the superstitions of a child contain the wisdom of the universe. The magical insight that all things are possible when approached with the innocence of belief. Today I was walking along the waterfront, sort of mulling over this past year. I was reflecting on the interactions I'd had with various people and one person in particular. This was someone I'd had trouble communicating with. We never quite got our act together. She tended to leave quotes scattered about as if they were clues to her inner working. And me, I played into it, treating it like it was some sort of game, where, if you guessed the riddle or said the magic word, a prize would drop down from the ceiling and an announcer would suddenly boom out - "Congratulations, you are now going to live happily ever after".

Some of the passages I understood but many were paradoxical in meaning or could be applied across multiple intents. So I was walking along dwelling on a particular quote and the circumstances around it, mostly saying to myself, ok, you've got stop over-thinking about this kind of stuff and really, just move on, when I hear the chorus of a song coming from the outdoor speakers of a cafe I was passing by. The last line in the chorus, literally, is the quote I'm thinking about - "Only the curious have something to find". I kid you not.

How strange is that? Turns out the words I was pondering are from a song by a band called Nickel Creek. Playing at that same moment as I was walking by. The universe is a funny place. Well this took me in a whole different direction.

One of my favorite phrases is from a cult movie called Repo Man. It goes like this

"They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything."

Personally I think this is brilliant just for the juxtaposition of lattice and coincidence. Lattice pertaining to structure and coincidence signifying randomness - structured randomness - the boy physicist in me quivers in delight at this mental maelstrom. Wish I'd written this. More importantly, I believe there's a good deal of truth here.

I tread lightly now, as this is the house of belief. We each have different dwellings but in some fashion they all provide shelter for the soul with the requisite access and egress. We all have rules whether we're conscious of it or not, of the way the universe works. My rules may be different from yours, but neither are right or wrong. Indeed, your rules are, in some fashion, your definition of what the universe is and inherently influence how you perceive events.

I believe, if you'll bear with me, two distinct things. One is that the universe encompasses a guiding force. I'm not sure about the mechanism or the reason but I believe deeply that the universe is a conduit of sacred design in some fashion for all of us. I haven't committed yet to the concept of a higher being or even a greater intelligence, no, I actually believe the word intelligence is not profound enough to describe the process that forges our being. It's more like cosmic river banks. Within these corporeal confines we flow and interact. In our everyday world it is gravity and motion, the basic physics of space and time, that determine the heft and hew of a river's course. In terms of our souls intertwined with fate, these forces, metaphysical in nature, are love and fear, hope and desire and many, many more shapers of our essence, our being. And much like the proverbial river, there are spiritual embankments that guide us while, in turn, it is our actions and interactions that cut anew shoreline, sending us in directions unforeseen.

My second belief pertains to what happened to me today. I believe that the universe is in constant contact with us, which is obvious but not so clear. Further, I think that the universe is continuously trying to communicate with us. Strange as it may seem I trust that it (I know, a little weird here), wants to try to explain itself and more importantly, give us a greater say in the ways things are flowing. I truly feel that one of our reasons for existence, why we cycle through this dance again and again, is to eventually marry our consciousness with this flow and contribute to the guiding nature that is this river.

Stay with me now. Assuming that this is the case, then I propose that the universe has provided us with the greatest gift told. It answers all our questions, all of them, all of the time. What I'm saying is that any and all responses to any question or request we can think of already exists and is, at this moment, fully incorporated into the reality around us. We have all we need to find any truth, sitting right in front of us. The only constraint is in our ability to interpret what the universe is saying, or if I may conjecture further: the only real limitation is our capability to pay attention. Coincidence, superstition, the acts that occur seemingly at random moments should not necessarily be chalked up to the turn of the card, á la Einstein's famous quote, "God does not play dice with the universe".

Often it is the Greater Voice and we should pay heed. However, like the mythological benefactions of ancient Greek gods, interpretation is the dilemma. I can say with certainty, "this means something" but what, what exactly does it mean? Here lies the enigma, the quest for answers. Where is the key that unlocks understanding and offers sustenance for our oft bewildered minds.

I'm betting that it exists within our own being. It is held in the experiences of our life, our past. It is our own self awareness, the steps that define our journey. At that moment of strange attractors, the universe is saying stop, look deep inside, and voilà, another opportunity to study and find reason and purpose based on who we are and who we want to be.

The augurist is indeed a caretaker of the heart.

Until One Is Committed

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness."

This is is the beginning of one my favorite quotes. It is often misattributed to the German poet Goethe. It was actually penned by Scottish climber, W.H. Murray while tackling the peaks in the Himalayas. The last line in the full quote is from Goethe's Faust, hence the misconception. I have a tattered poster of this from my youth that I unfailingly tack up to a wall or refrigerator wherever I may land. It's always puzzled and enticed me, this concept of commitment.

A friend called me brave the other day for some silly reason and my response was that it's only bravery if you understand the danger, otherwise it's just foolishness. I feel much the same way about commitment. It entails a process that is fraught with risk of failure and causes you to reconsider often. If it's easy, comes naturally to you, means little, then I don't consider it a commitment. A commitment has a goal, a destination and the process of fulfilling that quest is, in truth, an act of changing yourself.

A commitment is a journey.

It's not about picking a location, making an itinerary, buying tickets. At this point you can always change your mind, this is just planning. No, it's when you have your butt planted on the plane and the engines are revving for take off, it's when you wake up in a strange room in a new land with sounds and smells tickling your sense of discovery. It's when you look around and realize that hey, I am an adventurer and I'm gathering new and wondrous experiences - here is my growing edge. It takes you to a unique place. It can be as small as losing ten pounds or as momentous as joining in marriage.

A commitment is a journey.

It has a beginning, it has a middle and it has an end. There are high points and low points. You have the opportunity to turn back, quit. It's an undertaking that forces you to take stock of yourself. Who am I, what do I really want, what have I signed up for? It's the emotional turmoil that lends weight to this endeavor, your desire is the fuel, your will the craft that moves you through space and time. This is the magic of commitment, it means that every step along this path contributes to the sculpture that will become a new you.

A commitment is a journey.

Some commitments are transient and relatively benign, a respite from chocolate or an alcohol-less interlude, an opportunity for the body to recover and realign. Some more important, the determination towards health, the intent to foster a relationship. These are deep commitments, life changing campaigns that force you to focus inward and outward, to reevaluate how you relate to that which is important to you. Like any odyssey, it's not only about yourself, it's also the people you meet along the way, your supporters and detractors. It's how you interact with them, allowing them to foster and sustain you or drag you down. The trek is never alone, no mountain ever climbed without a team.

A commitment is a journey.

And in the end, rest, and the contentment of having wandered far yet reaching home once again. The commitment may always remain within but as you internalize it, allowing it to shape itself into a way of life, it becomes as a well worn comforter that you wrap around yourself on a chilly night, tea in your favorite mug, the cat curled in your lap. It is now a part of the sustaining geography of your own locale, familiar routes peopled with old friends and good neighbors. A satisfying confidence that I am a traveler and there is no voyage that I cannot envision undertaking.


Until one is committed
there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas
and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise would have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner
of unforeseen incidents and meetings
and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt
would come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it now.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

~W.H. Murray

Of Muses and Madness

I believe it was Spinoza, a 17th century philosopher, who told the story of a rock that was picked up and thrown some distance. While this rock was in mid flight it miraculously gained consciousness and looking down at the ground as it sped along said to itself , "Amazing! I can fly!"

I'm reminded of this because it's much the way I feel about writing. It's instinctual and I don't really have a plan or a goal when I sit down and start typing. If I'm lucky there's a line in my head that I put forward and from that the rest flows. Sometimes though I can write for hours and then feel I have to throw it all away. I'm writing this piece because I'm in a self referential mood tonight and this time of year does provoke the change agent in all of us.

Last year I started posting these thoughts and feelings of mine to really only one person. The rest of you are just innocent bystanders. There was someone out there who I wanted to get to know me, see what I had inside. I wanted to share my insights, fears, hopes, dreams, the whole gamut with her. Someone who had become in a fashion, my muse. We could never communicate effectively, she and I, in the real world, our languaging was always overtaken by the walls we created when we got near each other.

I hadn't written in years and it was her light that spurred me on, though in honesty, I don't believe she would have volunteered for the role of muse. She has strong internal conflicts to deal with and my presence was like water on a hot skillet, dancing her emotions in random directions with a sound that demanded attention. In turn, she managed to cut me in many ways. Some muses are gentle sprites, bent over shoulder, whispering into the artist's ear, mine preferred the harshness of promise and denial.

You ask at this point - couldn't you have found a better muse? Well, let's go back to that rock. I'd been emotionally asleep for many years. Right or wrong she woke me up and briefly I was flying - I had wings and the moon was my goal. Sure I could could have wished for the fairy tale but sometimes it's not about the princess being rescued by a knight riding in on a white charger. It's just two people, both sorely flawed and scared at the prospect of someone truly coming to know them. Both deeply fearing the loss of control in a relationship and being disoriented by the incandescence that love sears you with.

I'm able to write this now though because I've found my voice again on the written page and in opening up I've realized that it's not healthy to have a muse that twists your soul. There are more graceful ways to move through life. Perhaps I'll discover another muse or more likely strike out on my own. I enjoy these exercises in rumination and will certainly continue. Thank you for your kind support. I do get a bit wistful thinking that my words, my heart, might have touched her, opened a crack in some wall inside that was erected long ago, but she's never read these stories and probably never will.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right.

So this is the time of year we give things up. Yup, been planning this for a while haven't we. Gonna throw out the old, clean up the garbage, create a brand spanking new ME or least some token to this effect.

Ever wonder why? Make a plan to lose the weight, turn off the alcohol, stop the puffing - these are body issues. Find a mate, end an unsatisfying relationship, buy a dog - these are heart issues. Save more, earn more, work at a better job - these are lifestyle issues. Why do we have all these issues?

Yeah, it may seem like a big deal but these are only physical undertakings of what you really want to modify. What you're saying when you make these statements is "hey, my view of myself needs to change. I want something different". The heart of the matter is not about making resolutions, it's about lining up your self image with the way you want the world to view you, with the way you want to view yourself. It's about how you look at the mirror and whether or not you're happy with what you see.

I mean, isn't that the ultimate resolution? Saying to yourself: I am becoming who I want to be, who I believe I truly am deep down inside. Every other commitment just folds into this. Be careful about what you tackle if you don't understand this basic issue. Success truly depends on how you align your being with your beliefs. If you don't see yourself as a thinner person then the weight may go but it will come back. If you fear being alone or, on the other hand, are terrified at the prospect of someone really getting to know you, then what does that say about the story you have around who you are in a relationship. Don't repaint the surface when structural work is necessary.

The fact that we constantly seek change for ourselves, yearn for growth in our being, even to the point of making a pro forma yearly ritual out of it leads us to observe something inherent in what it is to be human. We have great faith in our ability to become who we want to be. This is magical. Reach deep inside and savor the gift you have to believe in your own true being. It is not a resolution you seek but a revolution. You are looking to line yourself up with how you want the world to view you and how you view yourself and who you truly are. When these three facets form a linear narrative you become a powerful expression of the here and now and there is nothing you cannot accomplish. The resolutions you choose are ok, they are reminders that you want transformation but until you focus on yourself, your core being, and start that dance, they are but small manifestations of what you want and need. You can change, but make it real change, do the deep work and grow to be everything you want to be - do it now.


"I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right"
~Dylan