Tag: Self-Inquiry (Page 3 of 3)

The Wanderer and His Children

February 11, 2013 / Tom

When, I ask humbly, is it time to tighten the laces on my boots and to just start walking?

When, I question the Universe around me sternly, is it time to stop catering to the maniacal creations of man and start living?

I feel it in every pore of my body and nearly every fiber of my existence. I need to walk. I need to let go of all of this stuff and just start walking. Starve if I must, freeze if I have to, die a lonely and tired death if that is what I am destined to do but do it nonetheless. I close my eyes and can see it clearly; a roughly unshaven man walking with the mountains and the pink-hued tales of sunsets as his backdrop with nothing by his side but the stories of then and the causes of now guiding him.

The more I sit idle in this apartment the more I feel sure that every note the Universe sings to me is telling me to leave. The more I sit alone in stillness the more I am sure that the echo in my mind takes me to a place I have never been before. The more I look at the wreckage of my life behind me the more I feel destined to walk the wilderness of this place both figuratively and literally. The more I look at my hands once filled with the grip of lovers the more I know I should have a walking stick in one and a book in the other. The more I miss the embrace of passion the more I am certain it only stings to open my arms. My heart is open and full even if my arms are empty. My legs are restless with the fatigue of modern life and with the weight needing things. My shoulders are raw and sore from bearing the crosses of my experience, and rather than stumble and fall under the weight of that wood I simply want to pick it up and throw it far over some cliff somewhere. I want to watch it tumble through the open air, and I want to watch it shatter into a billion splinters as it hits the craggy rocks below. I want to be done with it and die a free, liberated soul.

Yet the Universe has given me chains that bind me to this place. I look at the eyes of my loving children and I weep for the ties that bind me here. I hear the word “Daddy” and I shudder at the thought of not hearing it again save those moments when dreams remind me of who I am to them. I wonder if they could ever forgive me for leaving while, at the same time, wonder if they can ever forgive me for staying. I wonder if I am failing to teach them the most wonderful lesson of all, that we are not born to wear the chains given to us by our parents and, ostensibly, by our posterity but are rather born to be free people liberated from such need. I wonder if they would get it, if they would take flight themselves one day, and if they would love the man who simply sought to be a free man wandering among the chains that bound others to a nonexistent dream. I wonder if I need to be the teacher, or if I need to remain a slave to the ideas of what I need to be, created not by me, but by others who will teach my children that I have failed them.

In those fibers of my existence that cause me to stay I have found a tight chain binding me to this piece of ground. The mountains call. The beaches beg. The road whispers in my ear but the chains clang loudest as my babies hug me and tell me how much they love me. The sweet music of that clanging chain rings loudly in my ears, reminding me of all I have ever wanted to be while demonstrating to me that I can be it given the right set of eyes, ears and limbs to adorn me. Their love fills my heart with the nectar of the gods while their laughter fills my ears with a certain knowledge that I am here for a reason. The Universe laughs heartily at this human notion that I am a provider of something even as my mind begs to be that provider. I want to be special here. I want to be needed here. I love being “Daddy” and I love being me. Yet, I need to walk to be free.

For now I lay next to my son and play with my daughter’s hair listening to their stories and their jokes and their dreams only

Photo by Tom Grasso

imagining walking free among the trees and sleeping under the stars. I only imagine the pangs of hunger as I wait for nature to provide. I only imagine never hearing my phone ring, or getting the mail, or hearing about some human atrocity or insanity inflicted on another. I can only dream of the sounds of nature being my constant companion, and Earth under my body as I make my way to some destination only God knows.

I can only imagine meeting people whose names do not matter, whose faces are but temporary visions in a story full of those things. I can only imagine being woken up each morning by the rain, or the sun, or the birds, or the crack of thunder.

I smile wandering in my mind while enjoying the moment with those who love me dearly. I laugh at the sound of my son cracking himself up. He is his Dad’s son for sure. No one can crack himself up like I can save this wonderful boy who is laying on me telling jokes that magically appear in his head. I love his little voice, the fact that a boy so big for his age can still bring a smile to my face with the innocence of his voice. I love his big little hands as they hold mine, his fingers tightly grabbing his “favorite poopy Daddy” with all of their might. I love his stories, his insight, and the brave way he adorns his fears as if they are a cape rather than something to be ashamed of. I love how he buries his sturdy head into me when something that scares him comes on the screen, and how he tells me his goal in life is to be “an Army guy who delivers pizzas.” I love his rationale; he can be in the Army but help people who are hungry at the same time. A peaceful warrior who carries a big gun with the voice of an angel making people laugh along the way. That’s my boy.

I give a chuckle marveling at my baby girl. She was born early and a fighter with what the doctors called “an attitude.” Yes, an attitude, a medical term for a tough female who has a heart of gold and a will of tempered steel. Her laugh can make anyone laugh, and I love when I say something that hits that spot where that laugh comes from. She’s as beautiful as her mom, with an artistic ability that comes from both her parents. She is steely sensitive, often unwilling to let her heart out even as her compassion and love comes spilling out all over the place. Her smile can make me instantly feel alive, and in those rare moments when she says “Daddy, I love you” my heart melts and the Sun breaks through even the thickest clouds. I know love here in this place with these Beings, and I know the sweet music of a man imprisoned by the sheer joy of love like a bird imprisoned by the loving tug of wind beneath its wings. Sometimes the freedom isn’t in the flight, but in the ability to land wherever you so choose.

My oldest daughter isn’t here, she’s away at college being mad at me for one thing or another. She may never know how she woke me up at the moment of her birth. She may never realize how dead asleep I was in my own drunken state, and how that gigantic spark of love felt the moment my eyes saw her began an awakening process that continues to this day. She is, was, and remains a gift who doesn’t realize her greatness. Yes, I am blessed.

Those are my tethers to this world, this reality; my “happy chains”. Those are the fuel to the fire of my joy that shows itself in the smile that crests upon my face in their presence. Those are the once-dreams-now-reality manifestations of a prayer once uttered by a lonely boy in the darkness of his tortured chamber. Those are what keep me here, rooted in the human dream-state we call reality wondering why I need to live here at all. Those are the little specks of “me” that grow daily into something completely “not me”. Those are flakes of angel’s dust that will remain long after my body returns to the place it was spawned from. Those are my children, my babies, my life.

Smile now and get the joy out of you. Laugh at my condition, the one that sees me playing this insane human game because of a Divine joy I have in being with those I love. Laugh at me while I play a string-less guitar singing a song you have never heard of before. Laugh at me as I dance out of your rhythm although certainly within my own. Watch me walk, fade into the pink-hued sunset of my dreams as the laughter of my little ones follows me into the wilderness. Chuckle if you must but please, I beg of you, never offer me that sympathetic “shake of the head” in bewilderment of my actions. Never offer my children a condolence as they eye their Dad with a spy-glass that cuts through the trees and the mist and the fog and the dew leaving only a certain truth to be seen. Let them laugh at their Dad and be free unto themselves in whatever fit of laughter, anger, sadness or joy they find in their ever-present moment. Who knows, maybe one day you may strike up the courage to tighten your laces and walk into the woods even if for a little while.

As for now I will close this chapter as the dusk settles in on yet another day. I will go and check on my now-sleeping sparks of joy and settle into my own place for the evening. I will let go of my passion for walking and rest here for a little while waiting to repeat the insanity and the wondering and, yes, the wandering all over again tomorrow. I am not sure of anything except the fact that if I am graced with yet another day of breathing here I will be blessed with another day looking out at the horizon wishing I was walking there. I will wake up, shower and make breakfast for the three of us. Then I will begin yelling, screaming, begging and praying for my little ones to get ready for school. I will have to remember that they don’t necessarily care to brush their teeth or comb their hair. I will have to be aware that their school necessities are necessary not to them, but to insane adults who put such importance on such meaningless things. I will have to remember that they don’t quite yet get the vast importance of “being on time” and that they simply don’t yet know that money does not grow on trees. I will have to remember that none of my important “adult” things matter one bit to my two littlest bundles of joy. I will then realize, again, that I am jealous that they haven’t yet been bitten by the serpent of insanity that has infected most of us with a disease called “adulthood”. I will then shake my head, vow to take it easier on those who still marvel at the idea that we adults think that we are, well, right. I will also vow to be more like the boy who believes that Army men should deliver pizzas and the girl who refuses to quit at anything she does. I will also vow to call the 18-year old who doesn’t answer anything not a text and who will most likely not return my voice mail.

Then I will look out at the trees, tighten the laces of my boots, and vow again to walk one day to parts still unknown. I will hear the mighty roar of nature in my mind. I will feel the breeze rustle through my heart and the leaves fracture beneath my feet. I will dream of freedom from the dream even as I caress the chains that keep me firmly planted here. I will go to an office I can’t stand, go through the motions I have practiced most of my adult life, and wander through the mundane practice of insanity we all call “sanity”. I will do it all over and over again until, one day, I either walk free or return to the dust we call “heaven”.

“Stop It”

December 18, 2012 / Tom

“Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind.” – Stephen Covey

I felt a familiar stitch in my mind this morning, a painful cramping that drives me to my proverbial knees looking for relief somewhere. I felt the sting of something riddle my mind with doubt, and I began questioning everything. It’s something I have found is a familiar pattern; one I can trace back to the time when I was taught not only to doubt everything around me, but to also doubt myself.

The doubt starts here, within me. Although I am strong, I often believe myself weak. Although I have a lot to offer, I often feel myself worthless. Although I am kind, caring, and compassionate I often feel myself cold and heartless. I know who I am even as I get lost in the insanity of who I think I am. Actually, maybe the thought of who I am is part of who I am, and when I finally readily accept the Doubting Thomas I can finally accept the St. Thomas.

In that place I doubt that anyone, at any time, could love me, be faithful to me, and accept me. I struggle for aloneness, often telling myself that I am better off the lone wolf than part of a pack that will, at some point in some time, bare its teeth against me. There are others so much better. Fitter. Stronger. More confident. More able. The list goes on and on as to why I am not worthy of the very things I thirst the most for; love, companionship, devotion and loyalty. If I extend them to you, you will invariably bludgeon me with them at some point.

This belief, which has proven true at various places in my life, is my own creation that is like a chain that has always bound me to a wall that is too of my own making. I may want to get there, but the chain of my mind attached to the wall of my own attachment to the past and the false beliefs that experience has created. I can feel me run to open arms but then can feel the chain pull me by the neck back to where I believe I belong.

I belong back here. You belong out there. It’s safer that way. Safer for you, and safer for me.

This morning, as I felt that old, familiar chain tighten around my neck I felt something else too. Something unfamiliar but becoming more a truth than a piece of fantasy. I felt the warmth of love so intense that it could not be ignored for the chill of the steel wrapped around me. It caused me to stop, to look, and to listen. I could see her love reach out to me. I could see her eyes look right through the layers I had created to hide myself from her at least partially. I could see her hand touch mine and utter a command that would resolve me to ending this lunacy.

“Stop it.”

I could see her loving eyes looking into my own.

“Stop it.”

I could feel her hand taking mine and strongly demanding me to hold on.

“Stop it.”

I could feel her lips nearing mine while she whispered into my head.

“Stop it.”

So, I stopped it. I fucking stopped it. And to those of you who do not know how glorious that moment is when you achieve such a monumental goal think back to that scene in Rocky when a battered and bruised man wants nothing more than to tell his Adrianne the truth and she finds him. He has nothing left – no face, no strength, and no thought other than to tell the only person that matters to him how he feels.

And she finds him. She fights her way through the crowd, through her own fear and her own shyness to tell the only man she loves how she feels. She bares her soul to him in front of thousands yet it appears that there is only the two of them standing there, each baring their truth to the other and taking the chance. The world may have been watching but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the complete absence of boundaries, the complete dismantling of walls and the complete destruction of the chains that kept them from knowing the power of that moment. They lived for each other, and they let it be known.

Yeah, Rocky is not a sports movie to me. It’s a love story; a deep, passionate and meaningful love story. Still, enough of the story, let’s get back to a slice of reality. I could get lost in that story all day because I find great meaning to it. I can relate. J

So, I stopped it. I fucking stopped it. I was Superman there, standing on the railroad tracks stopping a speed freight train before it destroyed yet another perfect moment in my life. I stood my ground. I braced for impact.

Nothing happened.

Well, I shouldn’t say “nothing.” To quote one of my favorite books/movies (Peaceful Warrior), “there is never nothing going on.” So, in order to best describe it in the way I know how, let me use a metaphor (I apologize in advance) and let me start from a place where I realized that nothing stopped going on.

We stood there, my chain growing taut and the air becoming harder to force into my lungs. I could see her walking toward me. She wasn’t asking me to struggle with my own limitations to get to her. She wasn’t asking me to break the steel that bound me to my own limitations in order to touch her. She came to me. I could sense her fighting her own thoughts and own experience to get to me, but get to me she did. I marveled at her, feeling somehow pathetic as this remarkable vision made her way through the mud just to comfort me.

Something struck me at that moment. I was not pathetic here. We were both showing one another something, and we were both learning from one another. We both were challenging each other, and we both shared a love that no real boundaries could keep hidden. I had as much meaning to this story as she did. She didn’t just grab my hand for me, she grabbed it because she needed it. She just didn’t look into my eyes to cut through my own layers, she did so to cut through her own. It wasn’t just my truth she wanted to take, it was hers she wanted to give. In that moment she was searching for the same thing I was looking for even if she did not realize it. Hell, I didn’t realize it until it nearly destroyed me.

“Stop it.”

It wasn’t a command to me alone. It was a testament to a new reality. So I fucking stopped it.

So, as the train came bearing down on me and I extended my arm to “stop it” I felt something. I felt her hand on my shoulder. I felt her lips come close to my ears and I heard her whisper,

“Not going to happen.”

In that moment there was no train, no tracks and no need to be Superman. There was her, me, the chain and the wall. I looked at her, and her at me, and I knew. It was time to end it all, and to move on to the sequel where me and this woman…well…that’s a bit private.

Once upon a time she handed me a hammer. Others had tried, but I often found I could not wield their tool. Either they were too heavy, or too soft, or too long or too short. The hammer she gave me felt just right and I have used it to destroy many of the obstacles in my way to where I want to go. Yes, I have been fixed on a star and yes, I will get to where I want to go.

I can’t start by destroying the chain. See, that chain is my friend. It allows me to roam within its circumference, and to feel the taste of liberation even as it binds me to the past. It allowed me to see love walk toward me, and to feel the beauty of being the one. The chain also shows me the direction to the real obstacle in this continuing saga. The wall. The attachment I have to the past that, brick by brick, has created the largest obstacle of all. It’s an obstacle I may not completely destroy, but it is one that I will turn into something I can easily hop over when I need to.

In this mixture of metaphors and dreamy states of mind, there is one constant. Motivation. Love isn’t just a tool of acceptance, it is a tool much like a hammer that we use in conjunction with stern resolve to get to the destination we want to reach. We can either choose to knock down those walls or attach a chain to them. It’s all about choice, and it’s all about finding the resolve to overcome those very temporary moments when the obstacle seems too high to climb or too thick to demolish. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come to that moment when I just didn’t think I could overcome the obstacle. I’ve given up, walked away, protested that I just couldn’t go on only to find the motivation to continue. Sometimes it has been despair. Others, it has been hope. Sometimes it has been fear.

It has always been love. Always. Despair comes from the failure to follow your loving heart. Fear is the feeling that love is absent even when it is staring into your eyes and holding your hand. It all is a belief in doubt, where the doubts scream at you that you cannot climb this wall until you find the strength to simply say “fuck it” and reach for the top. Love is the motivator and regardless of whatever tool it shows itself as at the end you will feel its power if you just “stop” the activity of forgetting.

Well, that sermon is over. I have a lot of stuff to do, including “stopping it”. I have love to make and dreams to fulfill and good times to create. I have mistakes to rectify, and a wall to tear down. Then, I have a chain to dismantle link by glorious link. Yeah, I’d say I have plenty to do.

Peace.

A Trail to Destiny (Creative Writing Exercise #2)

September 19, 2012 / Tom

Setting: at a meeting in a conference room on a dark, rainy day

Subject: the raindrops on the windows

I stared out the window as the rain pounded against the glass, making a tapping sound that reminded me of a thousand boots marching out of time during a parade. My head felt like it had been hit by an avalanche, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping. That damned numbness-mixed-with-a-dull-ache just wouldn’t go away as I sat my ass down on one of the plump leather chairs surrounding the large oak conference table. The meeting I had just attended was over, and after the cordialities had been dispensed with I just had to get away from the bullshit being thrown around the office. Everyone was acting so nice, so fucking nice, and I needed to get away from the act long enough to gather my senses. The often strong exterior I donned before leaving my apartment was beginning to crack, and I had reached my limit of fake smiles, jokes and laughter for one day.

It’s tough when a person just doesn’t feel like enough. He can’t imagine being good enough for his partner, strong enough for his family, smart enough for his bosses, or there enough for his friends. He feels pathetically weak in even the most benign of situations. In many ways he was just like the raindrops now finding their way to the window in his gaze. He was helpless, and even though he would give life to whatever he could he went largely ignored unless he was seen as a nuisance. He would never be noticed unless he was stealing away the sunshine or ruining her hair or creating havoc whether intentionally or not. No, he…I…we, would never been seen for the beauty we gave to the world and instead would spend this lifetime in certain role in a certain way.

I followed one raindrop as it hit the glass near the top of the window. It hung on for dear life there, reminding me of my need to hang on. I chuckled at the irony as I stared at that tiny drop of water just stuck there, unable to let go and unable to follow its natural destiny. It would fall, eventually, but for now it just stayed in that one holy spot fighting for its own survival. Or was I? I was in a job I didn’t like. I was constantly trying to be “the one” to my woman I wasn’t good enough to be with. I wanted so desperately to be accepted by my peers, to be noticed among them even as I wondered anonymously between them. Here I was scratching and clawing to remain stuck to the glass, desperately fighting my destiny.

Much like this raindrop I had no idea what the truth was. I had no idea who I was or what I was doing here. I just knew that I had been thrown on this piece of glass and now hung on without ever truly knowing why. I could not look down for fear of seeing where I was heading. I could not look up because, well, “up” had rejected me. All I knew was at this moment I was married to this piece of glass, and if that glass wouldn’t accept me all I could do was try to accept it while hanging on for fear of falling into the abyss.

I could see the raindrop slowly losing its battle. I realized that the battle it was having was not with the glass, but with some unseen force that was dragging it downward toward its great unknown. Some may call that force “God” or “fate”, but I like to call it “destiny”. We are all slaves to destiny it seems, for whatever war we wage to hold on to our piece of glass the truth is that we were never going to outwit or out fight our destiny. As the raindrop slowly began its way toward destiny, I could only wonder what would happen if I just let go and let the chips, or raindrops, fall where they may. In truth I had no idea what would happen because I had never done it. I’d always took the path more traveled and then suffered the consequences.

The raindrop was heading downward now, and I followed it to the known end of its journey. It was gone, save the little piece of itself it left as a trail down the window. Like a tear-left stain marking the spot where sadness had reigned, I followed the trail from its beginning to end, and that was it, a metaphor of my life, which had begun inconsequential and would end meaningless and forgotten.

I wanted so desperately to join that raindrop in its end; to dive out of the window and meet my destiny anonymously and without fanfare. I could feel me falling. Free. Done. Forgotten. I would hit the ground with a splash and soon would become lost in the enormity of it all. Yes, destiny certainly could be a cruel Master but at least it never played games or fucked with the minds of its victims. It just was, unintentionally cruel and unforgiving as it doled out truth to each and every one of us.

Just then the door to the conference room opened. I snapped back to attention, donned my fake smile and forced laugh, and began the role renewed. The fall and freedom would have to wait for another time and in some other place. I would happen, though. After all, it is my destiny.

A Conversation with Mike

June 25, 2011 / tomgrasso

Dad, guess who?

My 4 year old son, Mike, is a special kind of guy. First, he is my son, which makes him special regardless of how many spiritual teachings I hear to the contrary. Second, he seems to have his eyes wide open and his head on a swivel. His open eyes allow him to focus intently on any given topic, while the “head on a swivel” means that such intense focus comes in only short spans. Even though the attention is short, he absorbs nearly everything a 4 year old can in that brief moment of attention. The following is an excerpt from a pretty brief conversation we had; a conversation that made the student the teacher and the teacher, well, astounded.

We were driving to my daughter’s dance recital. The radio was off, giving us both time to talk to each other and to share the ride without distraction. This portion of the discussion went went something like this:

Mike: Dad, I want to go play tennis.

Me: Really Mike? Where’d you learn how to play tennis?

Mike: In my brain (he still pronounces his “r”s as “w”s, adding to the cuteness of his methodology).

Me: Wow, so you learned how to play tennis in your brain?

Mike: Yeah Dad, and I could kill you with the ball!

Me: Mike, why would you want to do that?

Ok, so not very spiritual and not very peaceful but that’s my Mike. A more sensitive boy you’ll never meet, even if he says he want to join the Army to “kill bad guys”. See, he

Before I slay you, did you order the pepperoni or the mushroom?

follows that statement with, “and I want to be a pizza delivery boy so I can help people get their food.” Needless to say I am not that concerned at this stage about him becoming a Special Operative who assassinates bad guys in between deliveries of a large cheese with mushrooms. One of those I can certainly see him doing as the kind of boy he is now. The other? Well let’s just say I don’t see high-powered rifles and black makeup in his future. Of course, I could be wrong.

So, to continue our conversation. As I mentioned, his head is on a swivel as we pass an exclusive country club. There are people putting on a green near the highway.

Mike: Dad, is that golf?

Me: Sure is Mike. You like golf?

Mike: When we are done at Gianna’s dance thing, can we go there to play golf?

Me: I don’t think so Bud. That is a club that only allows members, and your Dad doesn’t want to pay to be a member.

Mike: Can I pay then?

Me: Sure Mike. Go get a job and earn the money. Then, if you decide you want to use that money to pay for a membership you can.

Mike: Dad, can you get me a job?

Me: Depends. Do you have any skills?

Mike: I have lots of skills. I can go potty, I can put on my shoes, I can cut down trees, and I can pick flowers. I can talk to birdies too, watch…

(rolls down car window and draws that focus on a robin sitting on the curb next to the traffic light we are stopped at)

Mike: tweet tweet tweet…oops scared him away. Dad I can scare birds. Tweet tweet tweet!!

Me: Mike, those are some cool skills. What others do you have?

Mike: I told you I can cut down trees and flowers. (Laughs) I can’t cut down flowers Dad, but I can pick them. (I laugh because I know Mike would cry if he ever hurt a tree).

Me: Well, maybe soon you can get a job. Then you can earn money and decide how to use it.

Mike: Dad, can we get ice cream?

I bet you can't see me, can you?

I love that swivel. I used to have one until adulthood stole it from me. How can I get it back? I mean I wonder when I made life so difficult and stopped seeing it in such simple terms as my 4 year old son. When did I make life so difficult? Probably when I decided that I needed a car to get to dance recitals and kids to do the dancing. I guess in most aspects I would not trade any of my life for the short attention span and swivel my son now enjoys. No, now is his time to use those gifts, and my time to allow him to use them. Someday it will be much different for him, but his Dad will always remember a simpler time when Army men delivered pizzas in their spare time (or was it the other way around?). I will remember these special little moments that not only remind me of who I am, but also of a world long left behind. It will be moments like this when I fondly remember the boy who stopped chasing butterflies and started chasing dreams.

Peace.

Act (Not Ask) and You Shall Receive

June 23, 2011 / tomgrasso

Original photograph by Sandy Chase

I am sitting here, goose bumps covering my skin and tears welling up in my eyes. Each hair on my body is alive as if each is reaching for the sky while my body seems to be melting into the space beneath it. My breath is still slow, my heart content to beat in time with the rhythm that has pulsed through it. I am alone but not lonely. I am still but far from doing nothing. I am alive and I am aware even as the universe fades from view in eyes wide open.

Thus ends my midday meditation and for those of you who may not have experienced this I highly recommend it. It’s not the first time that I have been graced with such an explosion of emotion. Once, when I was about 14, I had such a tremendous experience while meditating that I stopped practicing until I could better understand the experience. In that moment I cried like a baby as a sense of love came cascading down from points all around me. I felt the room fade away as all that remained was the sense of love that filled the areas where intense pain once dwelled. Light filled darkness, and the unusual experience of joy filled my heart. Needless to say, I was not prepared to handle it.

I was not alone but I was lonely in my youth. I was a tortured soul if ever there was one, with parents who instilled such agreements in me as “I am not worthy” or “I am nothing”. They also created agreements for me that caused me to fear love, to fear commitment, to fear giving myself freely and to fear trusting in anything with a heartbeat. Yes, they drew up the contracts but it was me who readily agreed to sign them. I did not understand the latter part of that equation until after my children were born and love began to invade places I kept locked deep within me. Today, those places are becoming “public parks” where anyone can visit without a moment’s hesitation on my part.

It was not until recently that I decided those contracts must become null and void. Now, you just don’t cancel a contract with fear or anger. It just doesn’t work that way. Rather, you must replace those contracts with agreements that make them null and void. You don’t “ask” for release, you release yourself (action, by the way, is the purest form of asking). I’ll say that again, this time without the parentheses. Action is the purest form of asking. Perhaps, for those of you who don’t know me, this requires a bit of explanation using my patented analogies.

Say I want to have a successful business in landscaping and I am a very creative landscaper with many talents for the task. I sit in silent prayer asking the Universe (or God) to make my business successful. I do this for countless hours a day, several days a week for several weeks in a row. At the end of the practice, I look at my sales figures in total disbelief. “Zero sales!?,” I shout. “The universe must hate me. That law of attraction stuff is nothing but nonsense!!”

Source: Photobucket (username: eyeness)

I suggest that is simply not so. What you have truly done is ask the universe to make you successful at sitting still and praying, to which it replied “YES!” I have found in my experience that action is the only question the Universe actually understands. If I sit in a church somewhere and pray for world peace, and then leave the building and attack a person walking down the street, which request am I actually asking the Universe to meet? That answer seems relatively simple, and to me is one reason gurus like Gandhi said, “BE the change you wish to see in the world” and not “pray that the world changes”. Make sense? I can’t find anything else that is clearer spiritually.

Having this experience within me, I discovered that I cannot simply ask that an agreement with fear be nullified. I cannot ask for an end to loneliness while remaining in an empty room attached to a need for companionship. I cannot ask to be loved while continually spreading fear to those around me. I cannot ask to “see the light” while sitting on the basket that covers it. No, I must make other agreements and, in turn, ask the question correctly. I must walk out of my empty room toward a room filled with others (or lose my attachment to companionship) if I no longer want to be lonely. I must spread love if I want to see love in return. I must lift the cover if I wish to see the light under it. Action, therefore, is the question the Universe understands.

Now, back to the analogy. I ask the Universe to have a successful landscaping business not by praying for it, but rather by going out and doing a good job at a good value. I relish in my passion for it and it, in return, provides me with success. I have made an agreement with success by not only identifying my passion and talent but by putting that passion and talent in ACTION. To this, the Universe always says “YES!”

What Agreements Does the Universe Have With You? (source: NASA)

Once I discovered this truth a new reality was born for me. I have replaced the agreements I had with fear with new agreements with Love. I have replaced the agreements I had with anger with new agreements with joy. I have replaced the agreements I had with judgment with agreements with peace. Mostly, I have replaced agreements I had with death with new agreements I have with life. Amazing, huh? I have begun asking the questions correctly. I used to pray that I could become a writer. Now, I write. A prayer never once put a moment of inspiration through my fingers onto paper, actually typing them did. An agreement I had with a dream has been replaced with a new agreement I have with action. I have replaced asking with action and expecting with doing and have found a great new world in front of me.

Now, the goose bumps have subsided, and I can return to the rest of my passion-filled day. See, prayer may not get inspiration from fingers to paper, but it does get inspiration from Source to fingers. Prayer in itself is a question. Meditation is, after all, an action. The Universe always says “YES” to both, and anytime we believe it has failed what really has failed is our perception of what we have asked or what we have done. The Universe never fails, ever.

Be well, and prosper my dear friends. It’s all up to YOU.