When You are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats

Where Are You Going, How Have You Been?

"Where are you going." uh? "Where are you going?" one of my favorite yoga teachers called out in class the other night. Inadvertently and unintentionally out loud I repeated the question "Where AM I going?" which drew some chuckles. Her response went something like "that's a much longer conversation for later on". This stayed with me though through the entire class and into the next day. It's a question not unfamiliar to all of us - "Where am I going?". As I mulled this phrase over and over again it occurred to me that perhaps it wasn't exactly the right question to ask. It had a lot of meaning, no doubt. It's true we all question our choices in life and wonder if we're making the right decisions.

We are all trying hard to peer into the future, squinting with fierce concentration, seeking to glean a particular life path. We want it laid out with some precision leading hopefully to justification for the effort involved today. There is an inherent quid pro quo in everything we do. But that's being human. That's what separates us from other animals. We have the ability to weigh the acts of today and project, correctly or incorrectly, how others will respond to them in the future. On the other hand an animal just does. If your dog is happy with you he wags his tail and approaches, a cat will purr and crawl up into your lap because at that moment it's the right thing for them to do. They don't stop to consider - if I behave this way then maybe I'll get more food later or sure, perhaps if I'm friendly this person will pay more attention to me tomorrow. They behave as they want in the instance. They relate to you as they are feeling, right now, right at this moment.

We're a little more complicated. We act in all kinds of strange manners always with the future in mind. We plan, we scheme, we plot with hope and desire. We consider interactions not for what they mean in the present necessarily but rather for what affect they might have on others and how it will play out at a later date. It's a behavior ingrained in our species. I'm not so sure that this is much of an evolutionary prize.

It's set me to thinking. Maybe I've been asking the wrong question these past few days. Could it be that this practice of being human has got in the way of our being who we truly are? Maybe the question shouldn't be "Where are you going?" but rather "How are you going?"

"How are you going?" This boils down to the hardest question of all, "Who are you?" More specifically, how do you approach life, how do you deal with people and the everyday ins and out of what we call living. This is the true question. This is what we're here to find out. The path is irrelevant, you get to where you're going to go regardless, often times you have no real choice, life just happens. It's how you deal with it, your attitude, your passion, your joy of the moment and the anger that boils up when you you don't understand a given situation. It's how you act and how others perceive you that matter most. Not where you're going, not how popular you'll be or how important you are but who you are in any given situation and how you affect those who interact with you right now that matters most.

A hero is after all just someone who lifts the spirits of others. I believe we should endeavor to simply be the hero for those around us. Don't worry about "going" anywhere, just be the person who brings to the party the feeling - "hey I'm here and I'm ecstatic that you're in my life - knowing you makes this a better world". If you can do this, if you can accomplish this small task, well you've answered the question - "How am I going?". "Where" then becomes but a matter of pausing briefly and looking at the people around you and acknowledging the appreciation they have for you. You are "going" in the right direction.

A Cartesian Kind of Love

They say everything can be plotted on a graph. Given the right set of axes, x, y, z, etc and enough points and you can even predict the next spot on the coordinate system where an event will occur. This comes from a man named Descartes back in the 17th century. It was a by-product of his search for God and meaning in life. It's a foundation of our scientific knowledge.

As a culture we've taken it up implicitly. We search for the x, y and z trajectory that supplies meaning to our activities. 'Our history predicts our outcome'. 'My former behavior speaks to my current actions'. 'This is who I am so this is how I react'. 'I'm this way because of my parents, old relationships, long ago events, traumatic or otherwise, that have formed my psyche', and now you move through life governed by these causations. It's a powerful argument, books and books have been offered for both pro and con but no one denies that we look to our past to understand our future.

The real question is - does it get us to where we want to go? Invariably the answer is no. We wake up still with an unease of who we are. With a hunger for something more, perhaps not quite sure what. Too often we look to this diagram of our life and see, ah - that worked briefly before maybe I should try it again. Or we make radical statements to ourselves and others - no I must change, I must plot a point somewhere unexpected, some random position that shows I do indeed control my life. Of course there's no true randomness here, the search to fill that emptiness always points you in a known direction.

I've struggled with this quite a bit over the years and I have a feeling, though perhaps not an answer, about this conundrum. I believe that there is only one axis that counts, forget about the x, y and z stuff. The one true axis is called Love. Love for myself, love for my place in the universe, love for all those that I encounter.

Truthfully, it rarely works as I would like but it's something I keep in mind whenever I take action nowadays. I ask myself - am I doing something that I love rather than have to, am I interacting with someone out of love or with a more base reason, am I accepting of what happens to me and when I do push back is love involved or something less?.

It's a simple graph at this point and the further I stray from that one path the more I question myself. I won't say that I'm totally happy but I've found a greater pleasure with my progress than I have in years. I accept a lot more that previously would have left me cold and bent on revenge or bewildered and spinning off into some world of self deprecation. When I come back to Love I find a consistent measurement for where I want to go and who I want to be. The vector is simple, it's a strong, solid line pointing in a focused direction. As it guides me I also let it define me, allowing my confidence to be built upon the knowledge that the next point plotted is with Love and will not be a bad position regardless of all around me.

As I travel further along these lines my concept of what Love is grows. Previously it was simply humane, acts of kindness and such, the care I give to those close to me. Now I'm starting to feel that there is a deeper sense of spirituality based on Love, a greater way of being and the actions that come from this are even more powerful. Albeit it's only in spurts and much too often I'm drawn back to that old system of measurement - how am I doing in accords with my past, what have I accomplished, what am I controlling and achieving, who is paying attention to me?

At times I sit along the shore and gaze out upon the infinite sea. Inside I feel a deep longing, a call to grace as if at once I need to be moving and yet be still. There is an inner voice that whispers incessantly to me, somewhere out there lies holiness, somewhere true understanding. And then I look across the sand and smile at all the castles being built, all the people intent on their endeavors, intricate in their architectures, consumed by the towers, moats and walls. Occasionally I join in, molding my own structures, pleased at the result and laughing in turn at the pure folly of building and caring to build; for there is always a tide, always a force that sweeps across our simple efforts reminding us once again, pay attention to the infinite sea.

The Secret of Poetry

When I was lonely, I thought of death.
When I thought of death I was lonely.

I suppose this error will continue.
I shall enter each gray morning

Delighted by frost, which is death,
& the trees that stand alone in mist.

When I met my wife I was lonely.
Our child in her body is lonely.

I suppose this error will go on & on.
Morning I kiss my wife's cold lips,

Nights her body, dripping with mist.
This is the error that fascinates.

I suppose you are secretly lonely,
Thinking of death, thinking of love.

I'd like, please, to leave on your sill
Just one cold flower, whose beauty

Would leave you inconsolable all day.
The secret of poetry is cruelty

~Jon Anderson

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.