Tag: Understanding (Page 5 of 5)

Single Touch

September 26, 2012 / Tom

In the candlelight lays destiny

In the moment there is a mountain of truth

Wanting…needing…knowing

Reaching out for an answer to the call

Seeking for each other’s hand

Longing for that single touch

Than another

And another

Until there are too many to count

And we are lost once again in a place without time.

In the morning awakes destiny

Aglow with the passion of a remembered lust

Searching…reaching…taking

Not letting go and grasping all the same

Needing each other

Reaching to give that single touch

Than another

And another

Until they become too many to count

And the Earth stands still as the Lovers dance.

There are no questions

In the moments of honest ecstasy

Longing…sweating…falling

The two become one in the soft voice of forever

Eternity is calling

Demanding nothing but a single touch

Than another

And another

Until they become too many to count

And the mind’s defeat resounds in the sounds they have never made before.

They are one

In that single touch

That never ever ends.

∞

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.

Our Love Heals

September 13, 2012 / Tom

Photo by: David N Cooper

When I met her I felt I must be dreaming. I had to blink once, twice, a million times or more before I finally saw her as real. This great dream came true before my eyes, in my arms, now, then, forevermore. I still, a lifetime or two later, have trouble believing what I see, feel, or want to be true. I need to heal.

She smiled and the Sun rose above the horizon, exposing a fog lightly hugging the fragments of my life. I could see the firm ground where there was firm ground, but beyond that I could see a fine, white mist hiding parts of me I simply never wanted to admit existed. There was a fear there, a timely loss of awareness born as she slowly burnt away the veils that hid what laid beneath. Cracks in solid ground appeared as she dusted off those parts of me I had always felt and had always tried to forget. There would always be a shaky patch of ground in the otherwise solid earth, and she sought through no ill will to expose all of it. It was who she was, without excuse or apology.

Let’s not fool ourselves. There is a price to be paid for burning away the shrouds a man has donned in order to find security in this life. Fear shows itself to be a devil’s tool, a torture for the minds of even the strongest of men. Take me on physically, and I will stand firm. Challenge my fortitude and you will find layer after layer of a stone wall built by years of facing the shit thrown at me. Seek to find a trust from me and find a fear that can often create a Mr. Hyde running through the streets of our life. Even the most docile of creatures can become vicious when you touch their wounds, and I am no different. I don’t mean to react, I don’t want to react. Yet I flinch when the pain arrives and I suffer the moment I realize I have reacted.

These wounds are a strange thing. They are there, and they speak whispers whenever I flex the area around them. I’ve learned to ignore the whispers, but they become shouts the moment they are poked. There is my Beloved, running freely in the fields with me until she pokes unwittingly. I react, I pounce on my tormentor without ever realizing who is actually doing the tormenting. It is not her, it is me. I have not yet learned to ignore the wave of pain or the sinister thoughts that suggest she is somehow to blame for it. I cannot stop it, I cannot change it, I simply ride that wave as it crashes all around me often sweeping her up in the carnage. I try with all my might to stop it, but I am no match for the wall of water that has, by now, dwarfed even its creator in size. I simply stand by like a child as it destroys the landscape, ending the run and the freedom as the once-pristine fields become a muddy swamp of lost promise and torturous memory.

All of this because she unknowingly swept away the mist and touched the wound that laid beneath it. The ground shook and the wave came, and now if I am lucky we stand before each other locked in a steady gaze. A part of me feels grateful for her survival, for our survival, and a part of me seeks to protect her from further inundation. I want to take her to higher ground and leave her there, in tears, so that she may never have to swim for her life again. I am unsure and like a child again searching for her arms, her breast, her soothing voice. The tears I cry are hidden by the salty remains of the wave I let loose on the world, but they are there. Sometimes best cried in solitude, other times best hidden, especially from the parts of me that want to let them flow.

I know I have nearly drowned in myself, and I don’t want to take her down with me. I want her to leave, but I don’t have the guts to ask her to. I need her, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars as clearly as I need the breath inhaled upon rising from the wave’s remains. Where she stands is steady ground, and I want so desperately to be there. Yet my feet are stuck in the mud of my own design, and even as she demands me to “walk” I can’t even lift my leg. I stare at her, often hiding the grip of helplessness and fear that dominates my mind. “Please don’t leave me” I utter to her in words she will never hear.

She gives it to me. She gives me her embrace, her breast, her soothing voice. I exhale as if the air itself is burning my insides, but it is not. It was simply holding me up like the man I was taught to be, and without it I collapse into her completely. She accepts me. She loves me. And I am home.

I want her to love me, and soon I will forget this miracle. Another wound will be touched at some other time. Another wave may come, another time of reaching for her will arrive. I will touch her wounds, and a wave will hit me square in the face as she reaches for me. We both survive by loving the place where we stand together, strong and immovable even in the brutal face of human nature. The waves come so that we can experience each other after the crash, and in that experience we are healed.

I want her vulnerable even if she tries to hide it well. I want her to collapse into me after the storm as she exhales her strength into the void between us. I want her to need me, want me, and know that I am there. I don’t offer more than to suggest that I will be vulnerable if only to her. I will collapse into her waiting arms and embrace her with whatever strength I have remaining. I will need her, want her, and know that she is there. The power of that awesome place we stand is found when the waves come, and together we face the storm and survive it knowing something that most may never see. There is a safe place. There is a harbor here. There is a heart that beats for you and arms built to embrace you even when you are soaked to the bone. Especially when you are soaked to the bone. You will find warmth. Yes, you, too, are home.

Imagine such a place called “home”. Imagine even a single piece of ground so steady and strong as to survive all things. Imagine a Love so real as to know humanity and Divinity in the same place at the same time. Then close your eyes and see her and know that it is real. Feel it in the essence of the man you are embracing the woman she is. Feel its power. At that moment you realize that you did not choose it, it chose you. You are powerful and powerless all at the same time just as you are in all of this existence. You fight it in your humanity and surrender to it in your Divinity.

Now you see it. The scars begin to heal. The wounds no longer matter. You freely expose the tenderness that makes you the man you are. You allow the tears that form in the corners of your eyes at the sight of her to freely spill onto your face. You have found your true strength that goes beyond the physical prowess you have developed and the mental rigidity you have been taught. There is a firmness there, on that ground you share with her, and you will not relinquish an inch of it to fear. You no longer see yourself as “just a man” and you realize you can stand up to the wave. True strength does not show itself as that rigid, emotionless, tough man you were taught to be. Rather, it shows itself in Love, compassion, and an unbridled devotion to be who you are outside of who you were taught to be; who you have chosen to be.

Want to know what strength is? Cry in front of a crowded room. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Surrender to the woman who shares your love. Forget. Forgive. Love. That’s where real strength is shown. Remember. Don’t ever forget who you are in spite of what they told you.

Your love will heal you. You love will heal it all. Just trust, and you will see.

The Unkempt Man

September 12, 2012 / Tom

A man walked into church one day. He looked haggard, tired, unkempt and his clothes were unwashed and wrinkled as if he had slept in them for days. He could not help but notice the stares of the congregation as he moved to a pew near the back of the building. He could not help but feel their disdain for him as he took his seat and removed his worn and battered baseball cap.

One woman seated directly in front of him whispered to her friend loudly enough to make herself heard by the man. “Have you ever seen such a sight? That man has no respect for anyone! Just look at how he came to church. I can’t believe it!” Her friend offered no reaction or judgment.

“My dear,” replied the man. “I have the utmost respect for you. In fact, I saved your life once.”

For some reason, the woman’s mind traveled back to a time when she sat alone in her bedroom with a bottle of sleeping pills in her hand and a picture of her dead husband in the other. As she contemplated taking her life, her deep despair lifted and she felt a calm and loving presence sweep over her. “You are loved, you are needed. Lift yourself up off your bed and share yourself with the Universe” came a voice from somewhere. She just could not tell where.

She put the picture down, and as she did she knocked over a small vase. The single rose it carried fell to the floor. As she picked it up, she remembered the time when her husband had given it to her just a few days before his accident. She held it for a moment, and then placed it down next to the picture of him. Both the picture and the rose would make it inside her husband’s coffin later that day.

Back in the present moment, the woman stared straight ahead at the empty altar at the front of the church as the man continued.

“Do not let my appearance make you forget who I am. Do not see my clothing as a sign of anything. Do not judge me for what I wear or how I appear, but for who I am. I saved you for this purpose.

Rather, see those who taught you to judge as in need of your Love. Those who see wrinkled clothing as a testament to truth need to see the reality of their condition. Those who taught you that the veils mattered more than the core are in need of forgiveness.”

The woman remembered the feeling and the tears that flowed when she left the room and saw her children. She cried openly then as they hugged her and told her how much they loved her. Yes, Love. It saw her through her suffering.

“Yes,” said the man. “That’s what you need to share. That’s the feeling that matters most. You can now leave this building, for you have found God’s house. It is where that feeling resides.”

Tears flowed down the woman’s face as she slowly turned to see the man. As her eyes made their way to the spot where he had taken his seat just moments ago she saw that no one was there. The seat was empty save a single rose laying alone on the wood.

Miracles happen daily. Some we see and most we don’t. Embrace Love, it’s the only miracle you’ll need.

∞

Is Feeding Kids Fast “Food” Child Abuse?

June 27, 2011 / tomgrasso

I was recently blessed by a friend who shared with me an article on the ingredients found in the very popular McDonald’s chicken nugget. Now I am not one who desires to

Nope, no foam here!! (Source: NaturalNews.com)

stop anyone from doing anything to themselves, that is not my intention at all. I love freedom, and believe in my heart that we should all have the right to do to ourselves as we wish. It’s the “do unto others” thing that has me drawing the line.

You can read the article titled Anti-foaming agent found in Chicken McNuggets here. It’s informative and sheds some light on the hidden chemicals that we are calling “food” nowadays. As an Indian guru just told us at a seminar, “your body is not a trash can, so stop putting garbage in it!”

An Important Disclaimer

The intention I had for writing this was not for us to label each other as “abusers” or to pass judgment of any kind. Rather, I want the reader to understand this as distinctly personal and to have an “inner dialog” that leads to an outer dialog. If we can agree with the premise that what we feed our kids is an outward show of the love we have for them, then perhaps we can have the discussion on how we feed them.

This is not a cause to enact laws that label, but hopefully make the need for such laws unnecessary. By shining light on what may be some darkness, perhaps we can find an awareness that changes the effects of our behavior to date.

There is evidence that our dietary behaviors are harmful. There is evidence that our children are suffering under our current dietary behaviors and that we, as parents, are not identifying that evidence and changing those behaviors. As you read this, resist the urge to label yourself or others, and just take a look at the evidence and what it may mean in your life and in the lives of those you love.

America, the Land of Dichotomy

If you look at our society it is one of fat. This is odd because we seem to also have a fear of fat. We also have a fear of dying, which is odd because we also live in the unhealthy extreme that seems to suggest we can’t wait to die. We are a chemically dependent culture that also has a war being waged on chemical dependence; we support a drug culture while waging war on drug use. We complain loudly about the soaring costs of health care while doing very little to prevent needing it. So, as I read this article the dilemma I had was not of shutting down fast food made like these Chicken Nuggets, but on shutting down the effects this food has on our children. Individual adults have the freedom (in my mind) to eat, smoke, drink or do whatever they want as long as it does not directly effect anyone else including their children. It is a moral imperative of mine to ensure you can do what you want when you want it as long as it meets those parameters. So, stock up on fast food if you want. Eat three meals a day of sodium aluminum phosphate if you want. You will not only hear silence from me while doing it, you will get my support if someone else tries to stop you.

Yet when I look at the children of this nation suffering under the weight of fast food and its effects I wonder when to draw the line. If parents aren’t willing to stop feeding their

A Parent's Responsibility: "When I grow up, I want to be just like Mom!"

children this poison, is it society’s responsibility to stop them? Or have we, the society that fears fat while contemplating which Value Meal to order, simply unwilling to be hypocrites here? Are we unwilling to show our particular weakness to our children; the one that says “do as I say, not as I do because I am too weak to stop myself?” Or are we a society that is just incapable of giving the love to our children that we are unwilling to show to ourselves?

Remember, fast food is just not found at a local fast food restaurant. Look in the pantry…you may find a ton of fast food that escapes your awareness because YOU put it in the microwave and not some cook in a back room somewhere. Look at the ingredients on the package…is this something YOU would add to your child’s meal if YOU were making it from scratch? That answer will tell you plenty, and it will help you begin the dialog necessary to discover what our true values are.

Time to Talk

I am not bright enough to answer these questions, but I am bright enough to ask them. These are individual values at work here people, with the strength and morality of the individual shining through either on line at your local fast food joint on in the act of driving right past it. Yet it does seem the time is upon us to at least start to talk about these things. It’s time to discover what actually gets us to walk through the door knowing what we know. Is it arrogance? Is it ignorance? Is it a collective “addictive personality”? Is it laziness? Or is it just that we don’t really understand what we truly value?

Could we be just stating what we think others want to hear? That we want health? That we dislike being fat? Perhaps we are just saying those things because it sounds good and we think our neighbor, spouse, parent or child wants to hear them? Has a society that has a long held belief that peace is achievable through war simply just that good at fooling itself?

Regardless of your individual answer, the real question that we must pose to the collective is “what do we do about it?” It is time we all sit down in whatever configuration that works and have a respectful and dynamic dialog. Yes, I know, I may be dreaming that we could even begin on those simple terms, but we have to at least try to get things rolling, don’t we? We seem to have much more at stake here than just some quick meal that gives us the runs for a few days.

It’s OK to the FDA!

I, for one, can tell you that I do care about not only my children, but our children. I also can tell you that FDA approval of the junk in this “food” is meaningless to me. I trust the Taliban as much as I trust the FDA or USDA at this point. Their stamp of approval simply means “buyer beware” in my mind. Now, I don’t want to get all down on the FDA and USDA, but let’s just say that, in my opinion, if we had Kim Jung-Il administering our food protection programs I would feel equally at ease. Yet, I am not sure we should need these acronomized (my word) affronts to common sense in order to make the right choices. Do we really need processed meat to satisfy us? Do we really need deep fried vegetables to fill us up? Or are FDA and USDA approvals nothing more than the “rubber stamp” we need to make bad decisions? What motivates us, as individuals, to purchase and eat something we know is not good for us?

I suggest to you that our actions speak much louder about our intentions than do our words. I would also suggest to you that the arguments of “freedom” are invalid here. Again, I believe you should be able to put rat poison on a sandwich if you want ONLY if you are the only one going to eat it. The issue is not of choice for me, it is of protection. Our children honor us often by following our example, but if the Pied Piper would lead them into the sea, who should be there to stop them? If it is society’s responsibility to save children from harm when does that responsibility end? What defines abuse? Let’s leave that to part of the discussion, shall we?

Is Obesity Abusive?

Statistics from the Center for Disease Control seem to tell a horror story in the making. The most recent statistics available suggest that nearly 1 in 5 children and adolescents who live in the United States are obese. Even more startling, that is triple the rate only a generation ago! Today, for every 20 kids in a classroom, 4 of them are considered obese under federal guidelines. This doesn’t even address those that would be considered overweight by those guidelines. That’s a tremendous figure considering that human beings are rarely more active than they are when they are children, and these developmental years are vitally important for the adult they will become. If they are overweight and obese at this young age, what does that suggest for the majority of these children and their health as they head into adulthood?

Also, a recent report released by the Institute of Medicine on June 21 provides some horrifying statistics. The report states that rates of excess weight and obesity among U.S. children ages 2 to 5 have doubled since the 1980s, and that about 10 percent of children from infancy up to age 2 years and a little more than 20 percent of children ages 2 to 5 are overweight or obese! If those number don’t jump out at you, I don’t know what will.

The CDC also lists a variety of health risks for obese children. The website gives an overview that is pretty intense when you look at our limited understanding of what is to come.

Health risks now

Childhood obesity can have a harmful effect on the body in a variety of ways. Obese children are more likely to have–

High blood pressure and high cholesterol, which are risk factors for cardiovascular disease (CVD). In one study, 70% of obese children had at least one CVD risk factor, and 39% had two or more.²

Increased risk of impaired glucose tolerance, insulin resistance and type 2 diabetes.³

Breathing problems, such as sleep apnea, and asthma.^4,5

Joint problems and musculoskeletal discomfort.^4,6

Fatty liver disease, gallstones, and gastro-esophageal reflux (i.e., heartburn).^3,4

Obese children and adolescents have a greater risk of social and psychological problems, such as discrimination and poor self-esteem, which can continue into adulthood.^3,7,8

Health risks later

Obese children are more likely to become obese adults.^{9, 10, 11} Adult obesity is associated with a number of serious health conditions including heart disease, diabetes, and some cancers.¹²

If children are overweight, obesity in adulthood is likely to be more severe.¹³

References

Barlow SE and the Expert Committee. Expert committee recommendations regarding the prevention, assessment, and treatment of child and adolescent overweight and obesity: summary report. Pediatrics 2007;120 Supplement December 2007:S164—S192.

Freedman DS, Mei Z, Srinivasan SR, Berenson GS, Dietz WH. Cardiovascular risk factors and excess adiposity among overweight children and adolescents: the Bogalusa Heart Study. J Pediatr. 2007;150(1):12—17.e2.

Whitlock EP, Williams SB, Gold R, Smith PR, Shipman SA. Screening and interventions for childhood overweight: a summary of evidence for the US Preventive Services Task Force.Pediatrics. 2005;116(1):e125—144.

Han JC, Lawlor DA, Kimm SY. Childhood obesity. Lancet. May 15 2010;375(9727):1737—1748.

Sutherland ER. Obesity and asthma. Immunol Allergy Clin North Am. 2008;28(3):589—602, ix.

Taylor ED, Theim KR, Mirch MC, et al. Orthopedic complications of overweight in children and adolescents. Pediatrics. Jun 2006;117(6):2167—2174.

Dietz W. Health consequences of obesity in youth: Childhood predictors of adult disease.Pediatrics 1998;101:518—525.

Swartz MB and Puhl R. Childhood obesity: a societal problem to solve. Obesity Reviews 2003; 4(1):57—71.

Biro FM, Wien M. Childhood obesity and adult morbidities. Am J Clin Nutr. May 2010;91(5):1499S—1505S.

Whitaker RC, Wright JA, Pepe MS, Seidel KD, Dietz WH. Predicting obesity in young adulthood from childhood and parental obesity. N Engl J Med 1997;37(13):869—873.

Serdula MK, Ivery D, Coates RJ, Freedman DS. Williamson DF. Byers T. Do obese children become obese adults? A review of the literature. Prev Med 1993;22:167—177.

National Institutes of Health. Clinical Guidelines on the Identification, Evaluation, and Treatment of Overweight and Obesity in Adults: the Evidence Report. Bethesda, MD: National Institutes of Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services; 1998.

Freedman DS, Khan LK, Dietz WH, Srinivasan SR, Berenson GS. Relationship of childhood overweight to coronary heart disease risk factors in adulthood: The Bogalusa Heart Study.Pediatrics 2001;108:712—718.

Seeing this, I am left to wonder what we as a society find permissible when it comes to the health of our children. Are behaviors that cause high blood pressure in children that are not only permitted by parents but are also encouraged a form of child abuse? Is a dietary regimen created by parents that fosters cardiovascular disease in children and major health complications later in life tantamount to a destructive parent/child relationship? Essentially, the question that keeps coming to my mind is whether or not we, as a society, have a responsibility to those children who are apparently unprotected in regards to their health. How do we, as a collective, look at ourselves in our twilight years as children begin to die before their parents because we neglected the importance of a healthy diet today?

Frankly, I simply am not sure what the answer is. I just know the answer we have now, which seems to be silence, is not working. Is it coincidence that our health and fitness are declining as our dependence on fast food seems to increase? I can’t say for sure at this point, but I can say for sure that we owe it to our children as a collective society to do much better by them.

A Time to Change?

The Tao te Ching says “First realize that you are sick; then you can move toward health.” It seems as if we are beginning to realize that we are sick, but I am often left to wonder if we are understanding why we are sick. If we set a table devoid of store-bought scientists and big-business nutritional “experts”, could we as a people develop an

It's time to change, the signs all say so!

understanding as to why we are the sickest and most drug-dependent society on the planet? Could we look at data that suggests that nations that are beginning to adopt our dietary habits are becoming sicker as well and see a correlation?

I hope so. I hope we can look at evidence ourselves without the bias of pre-paid science and big business propaganda and come to a conclusion that best suits us in relation to our discovered values. In the meantime, let’s see what we can do to protect our children from our fast food addiction, and stem the tide of poor health moving into younger generations. It is our responsibility, isn’t it? I sure hope so.

One final thing. The opinions here, unless stated otherwise, are mine and mine alone based on a certain amount of knowledge and a vast amount of experience. They are opinions only unless otherwise stated, and certainly are not meant to do anything but stimulate the common sense of those who find the time, energy and desire to read them. PEACE! 🙂

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.

Broken – A Conversation Between the Saint and the Sinner

June 16, 2011 / tomgrasso

The mind does not perceive what it does not know. What it does not know appears “broken” to it, it disagrees with the notion that others can experience things differently, see things differently or know things differently. The challenge is to be open to the experience, and accept it for what it is but never lose sight of the importance of Love in the process. Reactions are human and the physical manifestations of emotion. We are the sole (or soul) facilitator of how we choose to perceive others in their humanness.

“You are broken”

“I am.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“So I have always been broken?”

“You have.”

“So, how do I fix myself?”

“You do as I say, act as I act, do as I do. That’s how.”

“And then I am no longer broken?”

“Right, you are then fixed.”

“So, you are not broken?”

“No, I am not. I am normal, I am right.”

“Oh.”

“Make sure you tell your shrink that is how I see you. You are far from fixed.”

“Ok, will you accept me and love me more when I am fixed?”

“I am not sure. I will still think you are broken until you proven to me you aren’t.”

“Um, OK. Will you tell me when you see me differently?”

“Maybe, but I don’t see it has ever happening. Others see you differently. You are happy when you are with them, you are miserable when you are with me.”

“Really? I don’t feel different when I am with you. Sure, I am with you longer, and live my life around you, but I don’t feel differently in my view of things when I am with you.”

“Well, that’s because you are broken. You smile when you are with them, you are mean when you are with me.”

“Am I mean all of the time, or just when I feel stressed, or aggravation, or overwhelmed, or upset?”

“No, it is all of the time. “

“Every single minute of every single day we are together I am miserable?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I don’t feel miserable every single minute of every single day. Are you sure you are right?”

“Yes. I am normal. I am right. You are broken, and need to be fixed. Someday you will see that I am right, and you will see that you are the same broken boy you have always been.”

“But I feel peaceful and love when I am with you, even in those moments when I feel stressed and aggravated. Should I not express my emotions to you? Will that prove that I am fixed.”

“No, you simply should not have those emotions. Hiding them doesn’t help.”

“So, you never feel overwhelmed and stressed?”

“Sure I do. But that is different. Remember, I am normal, you are broken. Had you not been broken you would see the difference.”

“Oh, ok, I got it. I need to get normal.”

“Exactly”

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” — Rumi

A Father’s Father’s Day Message

June 14, 2011 / tomgrasso

My dear Children,

I stand here as just your father. A man whom you may see much differently than I see myself in a way only a perfect child can. A man who would pay a great price to be able to see the world through your eyes, to see me as you see me, to find joy in most things, and love in all things. Today is a day set apart for you to honor me, and I stand here, just a man who would be so much less if not for you, to tell you the truth as I see it.

On this day you honor me my truth is that I honor you. You have taken a boy and made him a man. You have shown light into the darkness, heaped joy upon sorrow, and gave way to a bright new view of the world through eyes not yet jaded by life’s insanity. See, the day you were born I was but a boy myself wandering alone in the fields of self pity and self indulgence. You taught me joy beyond words and a smile in sacrifice while giving me the sense of direction no compass could provide. Those things you honor in me on this day are the very things you have given me. The strength you see has come from a place but empty before you filled it. The light of love you see in me has come from a place very dark until you enlightened it. The teacher you see in me has come from the student you have allowed me to be. I am because you are, and in that no greater gift could you give me on this day.

My dear Children, you were perfect the day you were born. You lived without a sense of time, causing me to question its very existence. You moved without a sense of urgency, causing me to wonder why I need rush at all. When you laughed you brought a smile where none existed, and yes even created a laugh where none would have been otherwise. When you took your first steps you taught me patience. When you learned to run you taught me even more patience. When you learned to talk, well you challenged those lessons of patience you had taught me. Through it all you knew that I could never stay mad at you, and you forgave me for even trying. Yes, it was you who held my hand and caused me to stand straighter, it was you who taught me that love wasn’t just something you said without thought, and it was you who gave my life tremendous meaning in the simple word which still sends a jolt through my soul:

“Daddy.”

Yes dear Children, your Daddy loves you. I love you when I am trying to teach you something and you look at me like I am crazy. I love you when you decide to do your own thing regardless of how much I kick and scream. I love you when you save a worm from the sidewalk after a rain. I love you when you pick your Mom dandelions from the yard “just because”. I love you when you don’t call, when you don’t go to bed on time, when you question the very existence of everything I may hold dear. I love you when you win, I love you when you don’t, and I love you when you could care less as long as you had a good time trying. I love you when you sing, I love you when you pout, I love you when you root for the Giants or the Yankees just because I am rooting for my team. I love you when you are who you are regardless of who I think you should be. I love your hugs, I love that you know your Mommy is the greatest and I love you when you tell me my favorite song is “old”. I love you because you are, and because you are you have allowed me to be.

So I go about this day taking in the “Happy Father’s Days” and the cards and the gifts. I take them in so that I can let the love they show return. They are tokens my dear Children. Tokens of a day when the Universe bestowed upon this lowly man the greatest gift it has to offer. We call this gift your birthday, and in each of those days we find an example of the power that love itself provides. A single and childless friend one asked me “wouldn’t you like to go back to the days when you could just leave when you wanted and could do what you wished?” I simply closed my eyes and saw your faces and replied, “not in a million trillion bazillion years pal.” See, I know when you tell me that you love me “to the moon and back” that you are talking about some moon science hasn’t even discovered yet. I know that because you won’t stop asking me how to get there…

Anyway, thank you for letting your Daddy tell you how he feels and thank you for always telling me how you feel in the many different ways you do. I used to think when changing your diapers “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. Why? Well you’ll get it someday, maybe, and when you do we’ll both laugh at the irony of it all. At least I hope so.