What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

Category: Spirituality (Page 8 of 19)

Stop Loving your Neighbor as Yourself!! NOW!

Many of us have been taught from a very young age to follow the adage “love thy neighbor as you love thyself.”  We must stop this practice now if we are to save humanity, and this planet, from utter destruction.

Allow me to explain.

How many of us have hugged our spouses, our significant others, our children, our families and our neighbors without ever truly embracing ourselves?  How many of us have extended the hand of acceptance to those around us without ever really accepting ourselves?  How many of us have run to the assistance of others while never truly helping the child within us?

I’d suggest a great many of us.  That is why I also suggest that we stop the practice of loving others as we love ourselves.  Why?  Because most of us don’t love ourselves.  In fact, most of us don’t even know ourselves.  We know our reactions.  We think we know our pain and our pleasure.  We think we know our “likes and dislikes”.  We know what we think we want from life and those involved in our lives.  We don’t, however, truly know ourselves.  If we did, we’d realize that all of those things we think we want from life we really don’t want at all.

I speak, of course, in a broad generality meant to address not only the overall human condition as I have seen it, but also my own very unique condition as I have experienced it.  I can look at my own life experience and see that I have never truly known or loved myself.  I can look at all of my reactions and behaviors as contrary to who I now know myself to be. In essence, I have spent nearly all of my 44 years being someone I am not which, of course, means that I could not possibly love others as I love myself because I never really loved (or knew) myself.  There were some few exceptions to that statement, but overall it is as honest a description as I can see.

Make any sense to you?  Believe me, it was a bright “ah ha” moment for me.  Since having it, I have embraced meditation completely and found love in it.  I have had such joyous experiences that the world couldn’t help but change.  Once you plant the seed of love and the tree takes root, the world itself is forever changed.  Fruit that once never existed now blossoms.  Shade that once never existed now offers comfort to those who need it.  Nature flocks to gain respite where once none was offered.  Yes, the world changes from but a simple seed even if it is up to us to plant it.

If humanity is to survive the cancer we ourselves have created, we need to be willing to change ages-old axioms to better fit our understanding.  Instead of “love thy neighbor as thyself” we need to “love ourselves as we would our neighbor.”  I need to find joy in me if I am to offer joy to anyone else.  I need to embrace the total experience that I am if I am to embrace who others are.  I cannot be tolerant of others while being intolerant of me.  I cannot love you without loving me.  I cannot forgive you until I have forgiven myself.

I used to believe that I loved my neighbor, my family and my friends.  Now I know better. I wanted to love them, but because I had no love of myself I couldn’t do anything but pretend.  Now the intensity of my love for all around me has grown.  My acceptance has grown.  The way I see my relationships is different and the way I want to live has changed.  All from the simple (ok, perhaps not-so-simple) act of loving ME.

Note: Please tell your ego to calm down.  I am not speaking of egoic, narcissistic love here. Hopefully, I am writing to an audience who gets that with little need of discussion.

I could not go to war with my neighbor if I loved me.  I could not hurt those I love if I love me.  I could not lie, cheat, steal or covet if I love me.  Frankly, I could not damage anything if I had a pure and unselfish love of me.  Perhaps when I have achieved such a high level of love, as Jesus had when he uttered that statement, I can then begin loving my neighbor as I love myself.  Until then, I must stop that practice lest I create great harm in the world around me.

This does not mean I can’t express love to others, it simply means I have to find love within me to do it honestly.  I can’t say “I love you” and then act out in fear because than I am loving my neighbor as I love me…in fear.  I must know what I mean when I say “I love you” and, more importantly, act in accordance with the truth of that statement.

Well, that’s how I see it on this dreary and cold February afternoon in New Jersey.  This path for me has been a relatively short one, but the work it took to get here only seems to have made it clearer.  I look forward to continued planting, and continued progress toward that higher vision I see.

Peace!

Let the Light Shine In (and Out)

The amazing part about experiencing a deep depression, for me, is what is happening since I survived what seems to be the worst of it.  It is this “afterward” experience that would cause me to not only ask, but literally beg, anyone who is having such an experience with depression to do their best to “get through it.”  Yes, brighter days will be upon you!

I’ve detailed a small part of my recent experience with an absolutely depressing experience.  I’ve been dealing with the waves of fear, anger, sadness, and doubt that come along with the experience I am having, but today I am happy to announce that I have had a wonderful experience of love, understanding and acceptance.  Yes, my friends, this moment – this experience I am having now – was well worth the effort that survival took.

And yes, that survival took more effort than I ever thought I could manage.

Today I was fortunate enough to look at someone I have loved for a huge chunk of my life differently.  I am not saying that I squinted my eyes, or put rose-colored glasses on, or changed the lighting in the room.  I am saying that I had an experience that caused me to see her differently.  I won’t get into detail here (the details will be reserved for her at the appropriate time), but let me say that every moment of pain and suffering came into view as if I was looking at the “Big Bang” in reverse.  All of the outward doubt, fear, anger and suppressed resentment came rushing at her as if a shock wave was being played backwards.  It then disappeared into her somewhere, and all that was left was a radiant light and a knowledge that light itself was all that mattered.

Of course my ego suggested I was crazy, and that the nights of failed sleep and the constant barrage of thoughts had finally caught up with me.  In fact, it tried to prove I was crazy by saying something completely stupid to ruin that moment.  Yet, there I stood for what must have been a millisecond to the outside world for what was an eternity to me.  I was basking in the glow of something much different than what I had seen before.  I felt intensely focused and completely ready to heal.  The bandages were not only removed, but forgiveness and love immediately poured into the exposed wound, making it barely noticeable.

“This is Love,” came the Light.  “It banished everything else.”

Yes, I feel fucking crazy.  Yes, I hesitate to write this because I realize that you will think I am crazy too.  The irony of that amazes me.  Here it was not but a few days ago I was writing about a moment in which I nearly ended this life and that hardly made me crazy.  Seeing another human being in the Light of Love and knowing it, well that makes me not only a bit unusual, but also a bit crazy.  Or is it the fact that the Light spoke to me?
First, I never said it spoke to me, I said it “came.”  In other words, I had an understanding without speaking a word or hearing a word.  It was just there like the hair on my toe knuckle except, of course, it was much more attractive.

Ok, I am projecting.  Yes, I believe I am a bit crazy.  Given what I have experienced in my life I will take  THIS crazy over the OTHER crazy any day.  I got up from the chair I was sitting on and went outside without even remembering the action.  I left the room and can’t even remember how.  I just remember how tremendously awesome I felt and how absolutely bright the world around me looked.  Most of all, I remember that she was there for it, as she has been there for so many remarkable and not-so-remarkable moments in my life.  It seemed perfect, it seemed appropriate, and it seemed very fitting given the complications of it all.

It’s important to note that she is not the important part here except in the appropriateness of her place in the experience.  This experience may actually be a  burden to her.  I am not suggesting that it is, I am suggesting that I have no idea if it is or isn’t.  It wasn’t her experience, it was mine.  She just happened to be the Mona Lisa at the very moment I discovered that I loved art.  I believe this is important because I often want to burden someone else with the experience I am having.  It’s like forcing a homeless man who wants to sleep to stay wide awake to eat a meal because it makes me feel good to give it to him.  I don’t want to do this here, I simply want to explain the experience in total as it happened.  She just happened to be the focal point of it (which may, or may not, be a coincidence).

So I have felt like I am on that proverbial Cloud 9 ever since.  My sense of humor has returned in force.  I am not so worried about the future, nor am I so concerned about the past.  I have THIS moment, and what could be better?  I am not worried about the status of any relationship (even this one).  I am not all wrapped up in the debate my mind has had constantly with itself.  I simply am dedicated in this moment and am “focused intently and with loving intensity on healing and progress….” (to quote my Facebook status I barely remember typing).

I am not suggesting that this feeling will last.  I am suggesting that I don’t care if it does.  Right now is good enough for me.  I BELIEVE is the appropriate affirmation of this moment.  I believe in Love.  I believe in Light.  I believe in Now.

The rest, well that will take care of itself in perfect harmony even if it happens to sound like finger nails on a blackboard as life sings it into my ear.  Life will sing and I will be forced to listen even if I am left kicking and screaming in the corner of the room.  I could, however, decide to dance to the tune when acting like a baby doesn’t seem to jive with the moment.  Maybe I am simply dancing…

Enough.  Many of you are probably saying (to quote a rather intellectual and wise sage) “shut the fuck up and let me suffer!”  I am responding “go to it but please, whatever you do, live through it.  The tunnel is very dark and lonely, but the light on the other end is absolutely brilliant.”  Of course I am not sure I am on the other end, I may just be rounding a turn for all I know.  The light right here, however, is absolutely brilliant and was worth the pain that brought me here.  I’ll take it.

Right now, well the buzzer on my clothes dryer keeps going off and I want to take a baseball bat to it.  Ah it feels good to be BACK, even if I am not so sure I was ever here to begin with.  That, however, is another story!

Peace!

What I Would Have Done

What I would have done to hear how funny I was,
Or about the things we have in common,
Or about the joy I brought to your life,
If only your mind had let you see it.

Oh what I would have done to have you appreciate the laughter
That I gave you when the moment allowed,
Or the love that I shared whenever I could,
How different could things have been if only…

What I would have done to have you accept the pleasure of my existence,
Or the strength of my outstretched hand,
Or the warmth my body could provide on nights such as this,
It is true I would have paid a hefty price.

So now I dance a lonely dance hoping that you will see,
Hoping that you will feel, hoping that you will know who I am,
And hoping that it is enough to make a difference,
And that you care to see what’s real beyond what’s a figment of our imagination.

What I would have done to feel “enough” for you,
How the voices would have silenced, how the visions would have faded!
I could not believe you would have kept searching for what you had already found,
I could not believe you would have desire outside of what was keeping you satisfied.

What I would have done to feel your pride in me,
Or your Angel’s arms draw me into Heaven’s sweet repose,
I would have never left your side or hid in a cave,
But would have carried and been carried in each moment’s eternity.

But now I dance a forced and lonely dance,
Wishing I could change what cannot be altered, hearing how others are what I wish I could be.
I spin and move to the song of a lonely drum,
Knowing this is how it’s been but hoping it will change.

Shut the F&%@k Up and Let Me Suffer!

I started out writing this with “your” and “you” instead of “I” and “me”.  This is a uniquely person experience, so I am telling it from my own unique perspective.  All pronouns have been changed to reflect that.  Also, the situation has been left purposely vague, as has the timeline, in order to protect those who wish to be protected.

My world has been turned upside down.  All that I once had supreme confidence in has been shaken to its core.  Things that I believed in, lived and had faith in no longer exist.  Those things I feared are now attacking me from all sides as the darkness begins to dominate my life.  What is worse, I am facing it all on my own.

The Buddhas of the world want to tell me how I am “learning” to let go of my attachments.  The Christs of the world want to tell me how to “forgive” and find salvation. The Yogis of the world want to tell me that it is all perfect and to let it “be.”  I frankly want to scream “shut the fuck up and let me suffer!”

This need to suffer is not egoic.  I feel like I want to suffer in this unimaginable hell.  I want to cry my eyes out.  I want to scream and yell.  I want to feel the pain of aloneness and doubt and the fire of fear and agony.  I want to hate you my tormentor.  I want to hate myself even more.  I want guilt, I want shame and yes in many aspects I want to die.

A Case for Dying

People sometimes become shocked when I tell them I wanted to die.  I, frankly, cannot understand how they would not agree with me.  No one speaks ill of the dead.  In fact, with rare exceptions the dead are universally loved by all.  I’ve seen many fairly anonymous people become saints in death.  I’ve seen those who were at worst despised or at best rarely thought of become universally loved while being lowered in the grave.  Death not only would end the numbness, it also would reverse the lack of love in my tormentor.  It’s not unimaginable to understand the allure of no longer having to deal with this experience.

I’ve often wondered if people who throw themselves off the Golden Gate Bridge have any regrets before they hit the water.  Would they stop their descent and head back up to their launching point if they could?  I can say unequivocally that my experience is that they must feel so elated to finally be free from the numbness and the pain that they welcome the impact.  I can almost feel their smile as the waves reach up to greet them.

In some respects, I am very grateful I have had that intense experience.  It not only helped me understand the suffering that some face before their end, it also helped me understand my own value of life.  I can feel their pain and understand their perspective.  I no long say “what a waste” even if I can say “what a shame.”  To me, it’s always a shame that the human condition brings with it such intensity that people would face the unknown in death with more joy then they face the knowns of living.  I know I had a smile on my face as I began my process.

What kept me from finishing the job?  Frankly, anger.  I became angry suddenly that I was going to “taint” a place that should not have been tainted (ending your life in an area certainly taints it).  In this anger, I began an internal shouting match that became external as the anger I had been repressing boiled to the surface.  I started walking, screaming at my tormentor and the condition I was in.  I was cursing the aloneness and the hopelessness of my situation.  I was fighting the demons of zero self-esteem and utter rejection.  I also came to the realization that I wanted to suffer horribly rather than end it all at that moment.  No, my path was to suffer and then see where that path took me.

I make no excuses for either choice I made.  I make no qualms about choosing death, and I make no joyous pronouncements about choosing life.  Each one has its merits and its purpose and both, at this point, seem equally miraculous to me.  We all die people, and I hold no judgment about those who choose their terms and conditions in which to do so just as I hold no judgement about those who choose to continue their human experience.  It’s easy to judge both, and rather difficult to view them both as simply equal.  I do, currently, view them both as equal without judgement.

“Shut the F@*k Up!”

In essence, the “shut the fuck up and let me suffer” is a wonderful thing.  How?  Well, all of the Buddhas in the world can tell me to let go of my attachments, but what led Buddha to that realization?  He simply told the world to “shut the fuck up and let me suffer!”  What led Jesus to his understanding that man cannot live on bread alone?  He told the world to “shut the fuck up and let me suffer!” when he ventured into the desert.  He reiterated that desire when he told Peter to sheath his sword and eagerly submitted to the venom of his persecutors.  I can almost here the real words of Jesus during his arrest.  They weren’t “he who lives by the sword shall die by it.”  No, they were “Peter, shut the fuck up and let me suffer!”  Gandhi told the world to “shut the fuck up and let me suffer” many times during his life, as have others from Mother Teresa to St. Francis.

Frankly, “shut the fuck up and let me suffer” is a spiritual statement that suggest “now is the time this caterpillar enters his cocoon.  Don’t bother me, shut the fuck up and let me suffer so that I can see what happens!”  I wanted so desperately to have the experience of intense suffering even as I wanted the cause of my suffering to reverse itself.  I also want so desperately to share that experience (I am writing a book on this now, if there are any publishers out there who’d like to talk, I’d suggest doing so early because this is going to be one hell of an honest, no-holds-barred testament) so that others who are going through it will see its necessity.  Yes, it is necessary, and when you open your arms to it you will learn just how wonderful it is even as it eats away at your insides, your outsides and your entire sense of Self.

Friends and Family Abound

Let me say one thing about the “shut the fuck up” premise.  It did NOT pertain to friends.  I must say that in this experience I have discovered friends I never knew I had, rediscovered friendships long left too dormant by complacency, and found such goodness in people that their light alone has given me great hope.  I have talked to many people about this condition, and their insight and zeal for healing has inspired me greatly.  I never felt once the need to tell them to “shut the fuck up,” rather I wanted them to keep talking.  In many instances, I could hear the pain that still resonated in their hearts, and could see the effects of a pain-body that still had a pulse within them.  In some respects, my sharing my experience with them was helping them share pain that was simply not healed yet.

To those who have shared themselves with me in my experience, I love you beyond words.  I embrace you in all ways, and will use your example and your love to guide me for the rest of my life.  It’s impossible to properly express the gratitude, love and emotion I feel in your experience and in the love you have expressed to me, but I can suggest to you that karma is built one brush-stroke at a time, and yours certainly is expressing itself in beautiful ways.

Thank you!

The Journey Continues

This journey has not ended, of course.  Each and every day presents a new set of challenges and experiences.  Most recently, I have been dealing with an intense anger that has been brought out of me during, of all things, meditation.  It was so intense, I sought spiritual help from a guru because it was so new to me.

Usually, mediation brings out the greatest love and joy in me.  I usually feel light and present after meditation.  Recently, however, I have been feeling dark and angry during and afterward.  It was shocking, and it was effecting my daily behavior.  It seemed to add turmoil and confusion to already chaotic conditions.  It also, ironically, began to put things into perspective for me while adding some clarity to what I was feeling.  It also, as detailed before, helped me survive the experience.

Still, I no longer find much comfort in anger.  Any feeling of comfort is certainly temporary, and my experience certainly has taught me that.  Anger is like a welder’s torch.  Used sparingly and correctly, it can build bridges that last for a lifetime.  Used excessively and incorrectly, it can destroy even the strongest of steel and weaken the mightiest of structures.  Since I never went to welding school, I am learning through experience in a kind of “on the job training” program.  Needless to say I have been burnt and have burned others as I have learned how to build bridges that last for a lifetime.

Anger and Healing – The Act of Forgiveness

“You have a lot of repressed anger in you that meditation is purging from your system” was the consensus of my spiritual gurus.  I was shocked but not surprised.  Yes, there was a time in my life when I was a very angry human being, but I had left that person a long time ago.  This realization began a “review” of where this anger was coming from and what I would need to do to cease being angry.

I discovered that I had a lot of anger in me that I hid not only from everyone, but from myself as well.  I won’t get into details about the source of that anger, but I can tell you that it was real and had been stored up for many, many, many years.  The suffering I was was experiencing was allowing me to see it, experience it, and hopefully let go to it forever.

Yes, the Universe works in its own time.  Now is the time I rid myself of the anger that has been effecting my life over and over again for years and years.  I am no where close to there yet, but I can feel the forgiveness process beginning.  Forgiveness, in my experience, is the only way to properly heal the Self.  If you are unwilling to forgive, you will never heal regardless of how much you lie to yourself about your condition.  If you can’t forgive, you can’t heal and you will simply be like a dog scratching a wound until it becomes infected and finally costs you a limb or your life.  

The Healing Process

There are, in my experience, three steps in the healing process.  They are:

  • Removing the bandage,
  • Forgiving the wound,
  • Letting go.

So, I must practice both anger and forgiveness.  Anger identifies the wound that, to paraphrase Rumi, is where we should focus the light on.  First, I had to remove the bandage.  That’s what the meditation did, it exposed the wound.  Then, I have to allow it to heal.  I have to stop picking at it.  That is the “Act of Forgiveness.”  This will allow it to heal, and it will do so without any effort on my part.  At this stage, I have “let it go.”

In fact, the only “effort” I have had in this process is in the meditation and the forgiveness. Those are some difficult challenges even if some who meditate out there would disagree.  Discovering anger in you through mediation is certainly work, particularly when you discover it is something you simply can’t let go of.  I’d suggest to you that purging your system of anything is hard work and takes dedication, discipline and a willingness to have the experience.

The “letting go” so far has proven work-free.  It also takes very little time.  I can say, however, that I haven’t even begun most of the healing process because I haven’t fully exposed the wound or forgave it.  You have to be very careful on how you remove the bandage so that you don’t create even more damage (this is an integral part of the process that I have yet to master).  Sometimes, it takes a while to forgive depending on how deep the attachment to the wound itself is.

Yes, I can become attached to the wound.  It becomes a part of me and I can’t help but to pick at it.  It nearly is healed and I start to scratch as it begins to itch.  It opens up, bleeds, and I am right back to the forgiving phase (or worse, I am bandaging it again!).  The “itch” is an opportunity to further forgive it.  It’s a sign that some part of me still holds the wound dear and that I haven’t fully forgiven.  I have a choice at this point, I can either scratch or forgive.

The healing will take however long IT decides it will take.  I will tell you though that my experience suggests that the longest time comes involves the removing of the bandage and the forgiveness.  The “letting go” is usually very easy once those things have been finished.  If the letting go takes a long time, you aren’t healing…you simply have not removed the bandage fully or have not forgave completely.  I would say that healing is nearly complete when both of those things have been done to there fullest.  Letting go is actually the final piece, where the wound itself disappears and is forgotten about for eternity.

Now, Shut the F&@k Up and Heal Thyself

“Physician, heal thyself.”  Yes, you are your own best physician and you have the power to heal thyself.  It is a CHOICE, one you are free to make.  I suggest to you that if you want your suffering to have purpose, you must be prepared at some time to simply “shut the fuck up and heal thyself.”

Currently, I am not fully there yet.  I have bridges of anger and resentment, despair and guilt, doubt and fear.  They took years to create and will not be healed in a few days regardless of my level of understanding.  Still, I am ready to get down to business and dedicate myself to the process.  Why?  Because I love people and want to fully express who I am to everyone.  Currently, who I am is a wounded soul with much to heal, but I have a desire to be healed and fully present with the world.  I want to love those I love dearly, and be the best friend to those who wish to be my friend and a light for anyone who wants to see.

Since that is who I wish to be, I have work to do.  That is the greatest expression of suffering, it exposes who we want to be.  We can fulfill our desire to be sullen, depressed beings in our experience, or we can find other expressions of who we wish to be.  It is our responsibility to our experience to be who we wish to be.

That does NOT mean I have to bandage the anger in me when it is present.  I must allow the anger to be without covering it up and pretending it doesn’t exist (have you ever seen those skin-colored band-aids?  They are there to help us pretend the wound does not exist! :)).

I look forward to sharing the experiences I have had, both the wounds and the expressions of love that healed them, as the process continues.  Look for the book (I have a working title and have started writing) and send me any thoughts you may have to my email at tgrasso55@gmail.com.  Comment on posts, write yourself, share your story.  You never know what wounded soul could use your inspiration as a guidepost to their destiny!!.

Peace!

An Enemy in Silence

From the shallows I have come to resent you,
Oh silence that birthed my beginnings,
This empty room in which I sit has no comfort,
The fortress of solitude has no tender strings.
 
I long to share this passion, this Light within me,
But alas there are only the sounds of nothingness to greet my joy.
Time and distance mean everything to the wealthy who value both,
While cutting to the bone the pauper who seeks neither in bad company.
 
“Be still to my breath and the waves of Love will come,”
Yet I am greeted only by the sounds of piggish snore.
“You are nothing, you don’t matter but to be there for Two,”
To be alone with these thoughts is surely to have met Satan’s grisly stare.
 
I have been taught for an infinity,
To be nothing, I am nothing, to be lost in nothing.
Confirmed in one failed swoop She told me all I am,
The be held to the cross as I leave this pitiful reminder behind.
 
Out of ash comes a risen hand from the grave,
Determined not to die like those before him, 
Praying, hoping, needing to be so-much-more,
But knowing his hope resides in one who firmly grasps on to yesterday.
 
I have no choice but to love for fear has left me stranded,
I have no choice but to feel for numbness has left me broken and alone,
I have no choice but to know for ignorance has left me tired in the night,
I have no choice but to count on no one for faith has left me questioning it all.
 
Or so the somber bells toll after a moment such as this,
Such an overflow of emotion left hollow by an uncaring melody.
Yes, this event is my fault and mine alone for no one else took part in the routine,
Just me and my shadow dancing the Black Swan in an empty corridor.
 
I can pull from memory moments of love that say otherwise,
Yet they somehow weren’t but a dream in a head lost in itself,
We must focus, focus, focus on the other parts,
That suggest to end this play was much more in order than those who suggest it had merit.
 
Begone you Satan! and leave me to my tears,
Don’t play fiddle where no bow or strings remain.
Just do with me as you wish, for I am but a toy
Who deserves to be tossed to and from by the child who wearies from the monotony of it all.
 
Such moments fleeting before my very soul,
Sorry rejection confronting this fatigue-swept mind sick of the lifetime battle for “something,”
Finding something as it walks out the door confirming a lifetime of suspicion,
Yet leaving hope that tomorrow may yet come again.
 
Still I reach to an empty room, stare at an empty space,
I wonder what is behind that door to come kicking me in the face,
Whoa be this victim’s victim, a boy lost in a man’s body wishing for a woman’s loving hand,
But finding only an enemy in silence staring back at him.
 

The fog

The fog begins to lift when you realize what you have been searching for your entire life has always been within your reach…

Remembering 9/11 by Not Forgetting 9/12

Over the last 11 years, we have been inundated with images of mighty buildings burning and collapsing thunderously to Earth.  We have heard the many voices and seen the many images of those who would never know their place in history or of the honor their sacrifice brought humanity.  We have been swept up in scenes of unspeakable violence, and of indescribable tragedy.  We have seen the bravery of a few rushing in to save the many, and we have seen countless tears wash the whitened and bloodied faces of those that were left behind.  We have touched fragments of steel, some charred and blackened with evidence of both the best and worst that humans have to offer. As that date comes within reach, we solemnly remember the cause for which we stand in the quest of living up to our ideals even when our innocence is shattered and our character tested.

September 11th is, for me, about honoring those who sacrificed so much in the service of their fellow man.  As a firefighter, I have a certain love of those who would give it all to help a total stranger.  I can relate somewhat to the fear those responders in Manhattan felt climbing step after step toward their destiny.  I can feel the fatigue as they deliberately continued upward toward greatness.  I can sense their call to duty, the unrelenting and unmistakable love in their hearts that drove them beyond the limitations of body and mind.  Their minds did the thinking, their bodies did the work, but it was their souls that lifted them up beyond mortality.

9/11 to me is not about the attacks.  It is not about the twisted remnants of great buildings.  It is not about the fear, or the anger, or the loss.  It is about the love.  It is about giving.  It is about the best that man has to offer one another.  It is about the power of purpose and the sheer greatness of will that makes us who we are.  9/11 to me is not about terror, it is about the unmistakable and undeniable love that unites us all when we no longer are focused on those ideas that divide us.

Firefighter Mike Kehoe

Responders entering those towers on 9/11 were not American.  They were human.  They did not help other Americans, they helped people.  They did not check voter registration cards, or immigration status, or the bank statements of those they were there to help.  They carried with them an air pack, an ax, and left their ideologies and prejudices in their lockers back at the station.  Black, white, brown, yellow, green, purple, orange…whatever you were didn’t matter because they were going to get you out or die trying regardless of it all.  Your burka was irrelevant, your crucifix meaningless.  Where and if you prayed and what language you spoke had no bearing on the day.  What defined you and them was something much deeper than those meaningless ideas that are ordinarily used to define and divide each of us.  For all, it was their finest hour not defined by anything else other than selfless service and unbridled compassion.

Yes, that is what I want to remember about 9/11.

I also remember 9/11 by not forgetting 9/12.  I remember a people united in a common cause of service bound by something far greater than patriotism, or nationality, or faith.  I remember long lines where people of all sizes, shapes, colors, languages and faiths stood together to give blood, sweat, money or just a piece of themselves in a common cause of service.  I remember arms outstretched not to take, but to give.   I had never in my life witnessed or experienced such a large and universal outpouring of selfless love from complete and utter strangers as I had on 9/12.  I was extremely happy to be alive, and I was extremely grateful for those who had led the way and set the example just the day before.

Today, as I view the time since such an compassion and humanity was on full display for the world to see, I see the yin of those two days and the yang we have fallen into since.  We have again become a nation divided by petty ideals and worship of money.  We have again forgotten our brother, our sister, and they seem to have forgotten us.  We have thrown away some of our humanity to fear, and we have allowed ourselves as victim to become the victimizer.  So this anniversary to me is about refocusing and this day about dedication.  I want to feel again the nature of the firefighter rushing up thousands of steps toward the needy arms of a total stranger.  I want to feel again the weight of that stranger on my shoulder as I carry them back down.  I don’t want to honor the scrap of metal until I can honor the deep love that showed itself as the best version of who we are on a day that began with the worst version of who we are.  I want to love and be loved without condition…again.  I want to be carried and to carry, to save and be saved, and I want to give it up to you, a person I may have never met in this existence.

So, I remember 9/11 and 9/12.  Not the dates.  Not the twisted and burning buildings.  Not the flag-draped stokes baskets carrying the remains of the best of us.  I remember something so much deeper in the hopes that this time I may never forget.

Peace.

There is No Rainbow Without the Rain

The winds subside.  The lightning and thunder move on.  The clouds part revealing an intense sunlight as you step into its embrace.

Through the destruction left behind you see the Love that remains.  Trees stand proudly in their survival as remnants of those left fractured and splintered by the storm lose their grip.  You are faced with a choice.  Do you focus on the wounded or on the whole?  Your choice is yours to make freely.  Neither is wrong, and both are expressions of a deep and abiding compassion.

You move freely in the open air.  With arms outstretched you embrace the sun.  The invigorating smell of air cleansed by nature fills your lungs as you survey the departing clouds in the distance.  You see your family and neighbors actively moving about.  Some are cleaning up, some are helping others, some are simply staring in disbelief.  You begin to walk over to do your part, whatever “your part” means.

You see the grass around you.  It seems to look a bit greener than it did yesterday, but perhaps you are just seeing it a bit clearer today.  Still, nature all around looks more alive to you.  The birds are singing more clearly, the trees look more alive, and the breeze seems to caress your face more gently than it had before.  Is this your own perception or is it a reality?

You smile in the realization that there is no difference.

The sky seems bluer today.  As you stare into what is not truly blue, it dawns on you that “this too shall pass”.  This wonderfully blue, not-truly-blue sky will again became enraged by the clouds it nurses to life.  The winds will blow and the rains shall pour.  Lightning will strike and thunder will roll.  Yet, you sit still observing this storm as you had the blue skies that gave it life.  “This too shall pass.”

A wave of peace flows over your Entirety.  You are content in the mud that now adorns your feet, and in the sweat that now hugs your brow.  You wish you could share this with the others who are busily scurrying around in one dramatic form or another.  “STOP!”, you want to say with authority.  “Appreciate the moment and rejoice in it!”

You blink and awaken to the moment.  You  don’t cater to the voice that wishes to shout.  You go about your business as you cater to the wave that has given you sight.  You smile in peace and with joy in the realization of this moment.  A friend looks at you and shouts, “what are you smiling about?  There’s nothing to smile about here!”

“See that?” you say as you point to a fully-formed rainbow in the distance.  “I love rainbows, and without the rain there would be no rainbows.”

Peace.

Sister Assumpta – The Story of the Monk and the Scorpion

When I was but a wee lad (that’s the Irish in me) there were many difficulties facing me.  Those difficulties translated themselves in tough times both behaviorally and socially.  This was, of course, no more evident than in my school life.

Needless to say, the fact that I was having a very tough time was an understatement.  Yet, through it all, there remained this tough old nun (I went to Catholic school) who was there for me in some of the darkest moments of my young life.  Her name was Sister Assumpta, and although she was tough I have yet to meet a person who offered such unconditional love to me as she had.  In some ways she was a savior to me, and although it took many more years for my savior to arrive, she was there to do her best in guiding me through a time when I was utterly alone.

So, in this post, I wish to honor her, and you, with a story and explanation.  The story is one that she told me during one moment when I felt an intense anger and was suffering horribly from it.  This moment was a harbinger of things to come, but in this instance she was there to try to light a different, truer, path for me.  It is with tears in my eyes with love in my open heart that I offer you this memory in honor of a loving woman who will live eternally in my Soul.

A monk was walking besides a river swollen with torrential rains looking to see if there was anyone he could help.  As he scanned the raging river, he noticed a scorpion struggling to stay atop a boulder.  It was surely going to be swept away as the river rose.

The monk noticed a tree near the river’s bank that offered a sturdy branch reaching out directly over the scorpion.  Without hesitation, the monk climbed the tree, shimmied across the branch, and reached out to grab the scorpion as a large crowd gathered to watch.

Each time the monk reached out, the scorpion would sting him.  Still, the monk persisted until finally, after many, many tries, he successfully grabbed the scorpion and carried him safely to the shore.  The amazed crowd watched as the monk let the scorpion go, staggered, and fell at the base of the tree surely to die.

“Why would you kill yourself to save a scorpion?” someone in the crowd asked.  “Surely you would know he would sting you and you would die!”

“Of course I did,” said the monk.  “Yet just as it is the scorpion’s true nature is to sting in fear, it is my true nature to serve in love.  We were just being true to Who We Are.”

And with that the monk died, a free man true to his Self.

Now, I altered the end a little to more fit my current understanding.  I simply added those seven words that, to me, sum up the moral of the story.  What Sister Assumpta was trying to tell a young boy losing himself in sadness, anger and chaos was to not lose sight of the true Self.  Even then I understood what she was trying to say, but at that stage of my life I wasn’t sure who my true Self was.  It seemed my true Self was the one getting me beat at home, teased at school, and in trouble everywhere.  I simply did not have the tools or the experience to take that understanding and do something with it.  Frankly, those few moments with Sister Assumpta just were not enough to stem the tide of the raging river within me.  I eventually changed from being the monk to the scorpion and back to the monk again.

Actually, in my current understanding, I have always been the monk, the scorpion and the crowd.  Those experiences are “who I am” in this lifetime.  Today, however, I understand I have a choice.  I have no need to protect myself.  I have no need to cater to fear.  I have no need to worship the ideas of who you are or who I am; I simply have the understanding that we are truly no different except in those meaningless ideas.  In those moments when my ego rears up I try to go back to that scared and angry little boy.  I see the smiling face of Sister Assumpta as she grabs my cheeks in love to share some light.  This time, however, I smile back and tell her, “thank you, I understand, and I love you too.”  Those moments of focus are coming quicker to me now as the hold anger has over me evaporates with the ideas that spawns it.

See, the scorpion allowed the monk to be who he was in shining glory.  “No greater love is there than when a person dies for his friend.”  In return, the monk allowed the scorpion to be who it was.  Both allowed the crowd to be who it was.  All accepted and none suffered.

I love you.  I can’t help it.  Even when the scorpion decides to sting (both when I am the stinger and the stingee) I love.  As my mind conjures up ideas about you and yours about me, we both love each other in ways we simply have yet to recognize.  I have to find ways to recognize that love in myself and express it to you.  That’s the light that needs to shine.  If Sister Assumpta tried to do anything it was to shine a light for all to see, and I will be eternally grateful to a woman who can still inspire a warm feeling of love within me.

Anyway, I hope this foray into memory and love had some meaning to you.  I look forward to seeing your light shortly.  Peace!

The Parable of the Sinful Donut

I learn so much from simply sitting back and observing.  Today’s observation/lesson/experience comes from one of my oldest and dearest friends in this lifetime, and it is one that speaks so much to our times as well as to my relationship with the world around me.  This friend, whom I have been friends with for about 35 years, simply stated something so obvious in the moment that it is often so blatantly lost in that moment.  My friend’s message was this:

Life is like a box of donuts. Take time to enjoy each one for its special flavors. And never eat the whole dozen alone. Yeah Monday!! (As I eat a cream cheese frosted brownie.)

A true gift from a true friend!  Allow me to share this experience and understanding as well as the inspiration it provided in the form of a story.

♥ ∞ ♥

Once, a man studied a religious book, and took instructions from others who were considered masters of the same book.  He lived his life according to the teachings of this book, and tried mightily to adhere to each of the principals the book described and in accordance with the teachings of the masters.  Regardless of how he felt about something, he followed the instructions and teachings of his masters and soon he became the book rather than a man who knew the book.  He felt as the book told him to feel, lived as the book told him to live, and thought what the book taught him to think.

In one instance, the masters taught him in great detail how horrible apple fritters were.  According to the teaching apple fritters were abhorrent, unnatural, and needed to be treated like poisonous tumors on the essence of humankind.  The man never had experienced apple fritters before, but he knew from what he was taught how horrible they were as well as how horrible people who ate them were.  He based his entire thought process on a notion given to him not from experience, but from the words and teachings of others.  Eternal damnation surely awaited those who ate apple fritters.

One day the man saw a woman eating an apple fritter at a donut shop.  It was obvious she didn’t read or believe in the book or its teachings.  The woman looked so happy in the indulgence and so content in each bite.  Yet the man could not get over his revulsion at the act.  He frowned at her in distaste, and instantly felt anger at her joy.  He could not understand how this woman could actually eat something his religion taught was so sinful.  He wanted to stop her, and teach her the “right” way according to his book. Even though he couldn’t pinpoint the reasons if asked, he hated her joy in doing what was “wrong”, and completely disregarded her happiness in the process.  For her part, the woman was so happy, so much in joy that she didn’t notice the man’s disdain for her.

What the religious instruction taught, from both the book and the masters who taught it, wasn’t love.  It was judgment.  It was anger.  It was the natural reaction to ideas of wrongness.  To make matters worse, the instruction taught him how to wrap those ideas in a shroud of an egoic idea of what love was.  According to the instruction, you needed to change someone you loved to be “righteous” and show disdain for them until they saw things “rightly”.  Otherwise, eternal damnation and fear were the answers.

As the man left the donut shop, he was in a terrible accident.  Seeing this, the woman put down her apple fritter and ran to his aid.  She was a doctor, and as the man lay there wounded she tended to him.  Her love had not vanished, her joy had not vaporized.  Rather, she simply exercised it in caring for a man who was a total stranger to her.  She had no ideas of this man’s worthiness and no conditions attached to her aid.  She simply worked actions of love that stated their intent to relieve his suffering.

The man was in agony. Although only moments before he had great disdain for this woman, his suffering and her attention to it allowed him to see the love in her.  His anger was replaced by a different form of suffering which was replaced by pure, unconditional love.  He realized that this beautiful woman helping him in his time of need wasn’t the cause of his anger.  She had just been doing what was natural for her, what felt good for her, and what brought her great joy.  She wasn’t hurting him, threatening him, or wishing him any harm, yet his ideas of her created a great anger.  Those ideas, and his attachments to them, were the true cause of the anger he felt.

After he recovered from his injuries, the man returned to the donut shop.  The woman was in front of him in line and didn’t notice him.  As she ordered her apple fritter, the man looked at the cashier.

“Allow me to pay for that,” he said with a beaming smile.

The woman turned, smiled, and gave the man a hug.  “Thank you”.

“It’s the least I can do for my hero,” he replied.  “I may not like those fritters, but I love the person who does!”

The man had learned that any idea that is contrary to joy, love and happiness wasn’t an idea worth holding onto.  Not only did those ideas create great anger in him, they prevented him from seeing the love he could have felt toward this woman.  Now he no longer focused on what the book told him, or what the masters taught, he focused on what his own experience taught him and the joy, happiness and love those experiences inspired.  He became the Writer of the Book, not a reader of a book.

He had become a true Master.

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