angels on earth

Believe

butterfly on flowers

 

She told me to wish on a star because it will make my wish come true. Somewhere between stardust and sunbeams when dreams feel so real you can smell the rain, I almost believe. Then sleep falls from my eyes, and I’m hit with the starkness of reality.

She said that grown-ups can’t be happy because they’ve forgotten how to dream. In the fervor of her argument when her tiny hands fly up in exasperation while conviction invades every word, I want to believe. Then it’s time to come in from the chill, and I’m hit with the emptiness of silence.

She gave up on the little lost boy in a green hat when she turned seven. While I watch her scan the twinkling horizon for a hint of fairy dust in hopes that some dreams are worth holding on to, I begin to believe. Then her head drops along with those beautiful blue eyes, and I’m hit by tiny fragments of shattered hope.

She’ll tell you the greatest gift I ever gave her was life. Between the smiles and tears, hopes and fears, lost dreams and found things when I’m sure all strength is gone, I do believe.

I believe in her… and that is enough to make me believe in almost anything.

Is it possible to believe in something or someone so much that we live in the illusion of what or who they might become until reality catches up with our dreams?

In both writing and life I had embraced a type of idealism that dissuaded the possibility of anything save goodness and the best version of people. After spending far too much time in the bitter slice of what others accepted as real, I’ve chosen to return to a life that might resemble illusion or a dream land to those on the outside. As with my current relationship, this is a weighed and balanced choice because the purity of child-like innocence accepts the actuality of magic where reality cannot.

I believe in people, and their ability to do magical and creative and kind things in this world. What do you believe in?

Categories: angels on earth, belief, childhood, choosing faith, Drive by life, innocence, Rob Thomas, the universes we create | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Contrast and the Human Journey – You are Not broken

00 broken

You are a cherished gift. You are an expression of all the love, kindness, and compassion held within a single heart and throughout the whole of the universe. So, why are you so mean to you?

No, don’t beat yourself up for another perceived failure. This isn’t something born inside you. It’s generational conditioning through society and media that preys upon every single person with the illusion you are broken. That’s a wicked lie, one perpetuated for centuries to keep everyone in bondage. If you’re constantly looking inside to fix “broken” parts it keeps you from reaching out for connection. Connection to the universe, the earth, to the people in your life, to love.

This plan to keep everyone in internal chaos may seem like just another conspiracy theory, but it’s not. It’s not one person or group. This is something humanity chose for contrast. Our souls decided at some point in history that we collectively needed to understand separation on a thoroughly intimate level. We broke away from our tribal, supportive groups to embrace independence, something else we thought we lacked.

What we found was spinning.

We spin inside ourselves, breaking down all the goodness until we’re convinced of our incompleteness. To make it worse, we then project it onto other people, so we don’t feel alone in our misery.  It’s a cycle of breaking down that starts with walls. Gigantic walls, ginormous walls. Hell, the Great Wall has nothing on the ones we create for fear someone else will know our secret. We are broken.

Only we’re not. And when someone else tells us we’re not, we rail against the wind, beat our chests, and tell them how they can’t see us and they’re not listening because we’re absolutely certain of the inherent evilness inside. We live in these illusions, we cling to them as if they were precious, not once honoring ourselves or others with kindness.

To look upon ourselves with softer eyes seems to be the greatest sin of all. In fact, killing another human is held in less contempt than actually saying to someone, “I honor you as an expression of love and light in the universe.” We can categorize and justify violence. There always seems to be a reason or cause we can point to, and people are all too comfortable talking about the latest tragedy, but what about love?

Why do people hide their love away behind closed doors? Why is expressing love in front of other people considered to be adolescent? Why does it seem to physical hurt some people to see a couple walking hand in hand?

It’s the illusion of brokenness, of the feeling we’ll never have it or don’t deserve it. Never realizing that all we have to do is reach out, walls down, hearts open, and embrace the person next to us – be them child or man or woman. The act of loving another person and honoring their soul with kindness and compassion and directness is the greatest we can give them and ourselves. But don’t forget that face in the mirror because you deserve to embrace the gift of your presence in this world.

Celebrate it, honor it by not accepting other people’s projections as your own, by forgiving yourself for every “wrong” decision because you simply didn’t know any better, by loving and laughing and dancing or sitting quietly and knitting to Kitaro. Do what brings you joy and give to others in the joy.

But most of all, be a little kinder to yourself because you are truly brilliant. You are an expression of love. And I’ll keep saying it over and over until your eyes soften and heart lightens and you release that world class prize fighter beating up the most beautiful soul I’ve ever known.

Categories: angels on earth | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Update: Living with Lupus, Publishing, and what life looks like when I live it

2320436-a-viceroy-butterfly-is-shown-emerging-from-it-s-chrysalis-in-five-shots-merged-together

Winter has been tough on everyone. Just ask the guy next to you. I’m certain he has more than one complaint – weather, money, illness. We’ve all been battered, and the massive shift in universal energy is throwing all kinds of crap in our face, but this isn’t a bad thing.

We all have illusions to break and walls to break down. This time has been good for that at least.

For several years my body progressively became more difficult to manage. Pain, constant pain I suffered through in silence, racked my joints and muscles, the winter being a particularly difficult time. But now I have an answer.

Systemic Lupus. Yay me! But not really.

The diagnosis came barrelling in with a lovely expiration date. That’s right, the docs gave my one remaining kidney 8-10 years at best. To make this a little more OMG, they said I wasn’t a candidate for a transplant. Needless to say I was shell shocked. I’ve since found other, less cryptic doctors, who have given me hope. Yes, hope! Combined with a steady ingestion of Prednisone, I’m feeling much better.

The lovely addition of two beautiful children and one of my best friends in the world to this too empty house has given us all a renewed sense of peace and joy. Little things, so very small, have been flowing together to ease the stress and inspire us all to love and support one another. For that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you, Universe, for having my back.

Next in line is publishing. Last month I pushed through a flare-up to put No Name Lane: Diary of an Angel up on Amazon Kindle. It’s a journey, part fiction, part personal, but all about breaking away the thought processes that keep us from joy. With any luck it’ll add a little more light into the universe, and we could all use more of that right now.

00 No Name Lane

To end this rather short update, I am coming back. Just need a little time to settle into this new joy. When someone tells you life comes with a time limit, it puts a lot of things in perspective. And I didn’t realize how much of life I was missing by wallowing in a pool of stress and obligations. Let’s face it, we’re gonna have bills and homes to care for and kids to manage. But those things don’t have to be a noose. We know they’re a part of being on this planet, so why not shrug, smile, and chase a three year old around a living room that’s covered with toys and blankets.

Those are the moments worth living. If we don’t truly reach out and cherish the people around us, then we’re facing this all alone. In the long history of our world, man has always banded together to share resources and support one another. It’s only been in the last several hundred years that we’ve broken away for it, and a progressive steam of hopelessness and loneliness followed.  Why we screwed with a good thing is beyond me, but I’m gathering a tribe, a group of incredible people for mutual love and support. Somewhere in there we’ll find a hell of a lot of joy as well.

To top it all off, you’re part of it. Yes, YOU! Why? Because I’ve seen your heart, the joy and pain, and no one should have to live either alone because, like I told a little seven year old the other day, we’re better together. Yes, I went Jack Johnson on you. ~winky smile~

Love you bunches, and look forward to talking again soon. Mwahhhh!

Categories: allowing the positive, angels on earth, breaking illusions, children, Choice, choosing faith, love, separation and society, spirituality, the universes we create | Tags: , , , | 8 Comments

When the Universe Conspires to Teach Us

“Five for ten, and I’ll spot you something that looks like a soul, but feels more like thinly stretched taffy from Coney Island,” I said to the face in the mirror.

My face in the mirror. Took me long enough to recognize her, but I tend to like the hard way when it comes to lessons. The only way to learn something from the inside out is to throw yourself into it completely, twist crap around, then jump in deeper. Sooner or later the bottom reveals itself in colors of ‘oh hell no’ or ‘bring it on’.

My latest project, No Name Lane, thrust me into the spiritual deep end to take a solid look at completeness. I ripped apart illusions with a fine pointed pen, then strolled through the wisdom of incredible teachers, all of it ending with a very stark realization.

I am complete within myself.

What does that mean exactly? Well, as best as I can figure I don’t need the presence of another human being to make me whole. While I’ll totally conceed it would be nice to have a romantic partner again, the lack of such won’t destroy the foundation of who I am. Whoa. Yeah, made my eyes uber wide with something between shock and glee. Not the kids singing musical numbers in high school. But actual contented happiness.

As writers, 90% of the stuff we write is usually for us. It has nothing to do with narcissism. More like because we’re so prone to living in illusion due to our craft, the universe finds any way it can to get the point across. For us, it’s words on a page. For that guy hiding in the back, it’s his obsessive need to listen to Donna Summer albums. Hey, I don’t judge. We all got our thing.

My thing is to break down everything over and over and over and… you get the point. I like to see events from every angle possible, then I ask three questions.

What did I gain?

What did I lose?

What did I learn?

Those twelve words are the way I evaluate every past and present experience. No judgement for anyone involved, no assigning right or wrong, just a comprehensive walk through the lessons of really good teachers. Yeah, I was that annoying person in college who had a file box full of research for a 20 page paper. Being thorough never killed anybody, unless they got a paper cut, then it turned into an infection and…

I’m getting off track. #ADD

The current wisdom is not to look back into the past because they say depression lives there. But how can you avoid repeating the same cycles if you don’t take the time to learn from the class life has already offered? I’m not saying stay back there forever. That’s just plain insanity because you can’t actually live in the past, but The Lion King had some pretty darn good thoughts on this subject…

Adult Simba: I know what I have to do. But going back means I’ll have to face my past. I’ve been running from it for so long.
[Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick]
Adult Simba: Ow! Jeez, what was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.
[laughs]
Adult Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or… learn from it.
[swings his stick again at Simba, who ducks out of the way]
Rafiki: Ha. You see? So what are you going to do?

We can’t run from who we’ve been or the events in our lives. However, we can absolutely learn from them if we’re willing to put aside blame, ego, and the part of us that loves to judge ourselves. If perfection was a human quality, the planet would be empty because there’d be no point to living.

Life is a journey of lessons through our experiences and choices. We need the contrast of lack to understand fullness, of darkness to appreciate light, of no love to embrace the beauty of unconditional love. Without delving completely into the depths of absences we may know fullness, light and love, but will often fail to understand the precious nature of such gifts.

After many years of relationships with no real break, I hadn’t been able to see, in the constant presence of others, what I’ve found in complete aloneness. I am enough all by myself, and contented in that realization. My past, my teachers, and a heck of a lot of contrast taught me that. How fortunate a gift to be given from a universe that conspires for our greatness.

If your path takes you into the arms of another loving soul, then embrace it because love should always be welcome. But know, in the arms of that person, you are complete within yourself with or without them. Completeness only requires we recognize its existence, not the presence of another being, no matter how wonderful they are. When we truly see past the illusion we are broken souls into the truth our wholeness, we can love on a level of unconditional that will make the universe blush.

 

 

Categories: angels on earth, belief, breaking illusions, conscious choices, spirituality, the universes we create, unconditional love | Tags: , , , , | 4 Comments

Lesson of the Mirror

00 brunette

 

People were complex bits of total awesomesauce and hotmess. We all had baggage no one would ever see because people could also be very judgemental. So we rarely opened up to them, preferring to live a somewhat detached version of ourselves to remain safe. While I understood the desire to be safe, I’d found opening up could be an amazing experience, even if I risked momentary damage to the softer parts of my soul.

A good friend of mine had someone in his life I’d grown very fond of. She was a bit on the extreme spiritual side, but her perspective often caused me to look at situations from a completely different angle. I cherished her wisdom, even though I didn’t connect the dots the same way she did because my experiences were unique to me.

When she and I first met, my friend warned me that she could be a meddling busybody and ultimately only cares about herself. He said she was superficial and judgemental. While this may have been his experience knowing her, I’d found her to be honest, direct, and insightful.

Over the years, I’d run into this time and again. One or several people denounced someone else, which led to some invisible, unspoken line of separation. But we often forget…

“The world is a looking-glass, and gives back to

every man the reflection of his own face.

Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourly upon

you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly kind

companion; and so let all young persons take

their choice.” ― William Makepeace Thackeray

 

 

When you found that elusive inner peace, you saw the world through a different eyes. No enemies, no judgement, no invisible foes intent on causing you pain. Instead, you’d see the goodness of all men. And let me tell you, there’s a hell of a lot more good in people than anything else.

When people constantly saw an enemy in the face of what otherwise might be a friend, it was a reflection of something within them. A part of themselves that usually was their own worst enemy. Lets face it, no one could put us down the way we could, right?

Have you looked in the mirror lately? Can you do it without turning away? Is the reflection the one you hoped to see? Can you look in your own eyes and see love looking back? Or do you glance away quickly so as not to be forced to face all the things you can’t stand about yourself?

Many years ago a dear friend had me do an exercise I’ve started again, and one I’d like you to try.

For the next thirty days, stand in front of the mirror close enough to look in your eyes directly without distraction. It’ll be difficult at first, you’ll want to look away, but resist the urge, and say…

“I love you.”

“You are precious, and I’m here to keep you safe.”

“You are an incredible person, and I’m so thankful to know you.”

“You…” get the idea.

Say all the things you’d wished a friend, parent, lover, or spouse might say.

At first, you won’t believe it. Your mind will contend this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, and that idiot who wrote this post is completely insane. Why? Because we’re not used to loving ourselves, we’re not used to saying good things about the person we’ve become. We listen to all the people, who were just seeing a reflection of themselves in you, as a repetitive stream in our heads of why we aren’t worthy.

“The beginning of love is to let those we love

be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them

to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only

the reflection of ourselves we find in them.”

~ Thomas Merton

 

How many times a day do you twist to fit someone else’s image of who you should be or what you should do? How often have you tried to reflect back what you think someone wants to see, then find they no longer want to be your friend?

I’m far from being a saint, but I do cherish the teachers who come into my life. And recently I met one who reminded me of the lessons of the mirror, and that when I’m at peace and my intentions are focused on love, don’t twist anything about myself to make someone more comfortable. Because ultimately, people only see in others a reflection of what is inside themselves.

During that brief span of weeks, I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. Now I looked without turning away and saw exactly what I’d hoped to see once again.

Categories: allowing the positive, angels on earth, choosing faith, conscious choices, magic, peace, relationships, the universes we create, unconditional love | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

An Excerpt of Something New: No Name Lane

Today I’m posting an excerpt from my new project. Mainly because I was up all night with an ill little redhead, but I don’t want to fall short of my goal to post regularly. So you get a sneak peek of No Name Lane: Diary of an Angel. 

We’re all angels to someone, and this story is a journey about returning to love, both from within and without. It encompansses the reality of a greater spiritual world. It’s the foundation of hope and kindness we build within ourselves, how every thought leads to an action, which can lift or teardown. It’s all about choices, and whether we have the courage to make them with complete and total unconditional love and accept such love in return.

Mind you, it hasn’t been through the editor yet, so please forgive any errors. I’m on schedule to finish it by the end of the month to release in late November.

 

00 No Name Lane

 

***

In the early years, sometime around my early twenties, I’d met a woman. The deep creases on her liver spotted skin moved into a near grotesque mask every time she spoke, hiding the rather kind heart buried beneath. She came from a time removed from this world, a society of money where people don’t speak about it because they didn’t need to, it’s implied by the way they carry themselves. It was a world I didn’t know, one I hadn’t seen in my childhood, but she showed me how to live in it.

On a warm spring day, we sat in the garden drinking tea, watching the tender blooms unfurl to capture the morning sun. I served, as was custom in this society for the youth to honor the aged. She smiled with a swaying nod when I asked about sugar and cream. Motions of elegance, the only way to describe her every movement, but then she was raised to embrace economy of expression. Every smile had a meaning, every scowl a purpose, all of it a symphony of language without a single word.

She told me a story once, and I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

***

The sensei sat in the center of a rice paper and pale wood room, waiting for his student. A young man wrapped in robes entered whisper-quiet and knelt before him eager to start the day’s lesson. Jasmine incense swirled around the two, a moment of inner calm to steady the heart and mind, and the silence of it rang in their ears, but neither moved.

Finally, the sensei opened his eyes and considered the enthusiastic face before him. “Show me the meaning of kindness, my student.”

And so, the youth scurried away and returned with a bowl of stew. “You haven’t eaten all day, master, please take this stew and nourish yourself.”

Sensei smacked the bowl across the room, and closed his eyes again. “Show me the meaning of kindness,” he ordered.

The young man cleaned up the mess, left the room, and returned with a soft pillow. “Please, master, the floor is hard and your bones are aged. Take this pillow and rest upon it.”

Sensei grabbed it, ripped the feathered stuffing out, and again closed his eyes. “Now, show me the meaning of kindness.”

With slower steps, the youth cleaned the mess, sluggishly walked out, then returned, but with empty hands. He knelt before Sensei, a disheartened frown upon his face, and presented a gift of nothing to his mentor.

The aged master opened his eyes for the last time, considering the youth and his bare hands. A knowing smile full of wisdom graced his lips. He saw the broken spirit of a once vibrant pupil, and recognized the defeat in heart ready to serve the world.

He took the youth’s hands, and said, “No amount of kindness can be offered to those who are unwilling to receive it. You will find, in this world, those who will be unable to accept such a gift, but know it is no reflection of you, my student. But also, do not tolerate cruelty if that is their response. Honor your spirit and offer theirs kindness from a distance.”

***

Of course, I nodded and smiled as if I understood, but she knew I wouldn’t, not completely. My people pleasing ways, my desire to see the best in everyone would cause far more pain until I learned the lesson through experience.

And humans were like that too.

Sometimes it took living the stark reality of people’s cruelty to fully grasp a concept, and I’d spent many years offering the bowl of stew to everyone and anyone. Not so much as a means to garner favor, but because I’d lived in a pit of deepest darkness as a child. Abuse—physical and emotional, the torment of teasing by children taught too well, love only given under conditions of perfection, the terror of not wanting to fall asleep because I’d relive the nightmare again.

It was more than my winged origins, more than a higher calling, but a sincere desire to present only love because there was too much of the other in this world. But humans thrived on conflict, a contented net of safety they’d grown insecure to release. They understood hate intimately and couldn’t conceive of someone wanting only the best for them. This foreign gift of unconditional acceptance evoked anxiety and suspicion.

She tried to warn me back then. “You have a grace beyond your years, despite the circumstances of your childhood. The world will steal it from you, but only if you let them. My peers would have me broken, even in my aged state, but they’ll never receive such satisfaction. I am victim of nothing, a survivor of nothing. I am now and will always be a woman of means because I choose to be nothing less.”

Again I nodded with no more understanding than I had earlier. Instead, I focused on refreshing the tea and cutting a few roses to place in the vase on the garden table.

She responded with a smile resembling a grimace. “In time, you’ll understand, but promise me you’ll never forget.”

“I promise.” My words holding far less conviction than hers.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the garden and house. She’d point out antiques handed down through her family. They had a rich history, reaching back to royalty several generations removed. I enjoyed these moments together, her laughter, her kindness, her quiet lessons. Not exactly a mother or grandmother, but somehow family all the same.

It was the last tea we ever had together. Her family didn’t invite me to the wake or funeral, but I wouldn’t have gone. She asked me not to grieve her, only to remember our time together. My only thought now—how could I ever forget?

Categories: angels on earth, Choice, new projects, novella, spirituality, unconditional love, writing | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Blog at WordPress.com.