In the Space of a Breath, Life Occurs

A short time ago, as I was thumbing through a Buddhist magazine that I picked up at our local Barnes & Noble, I came across this sobering thought: "We are literally always one breath away from death."

Something about those words struck a nerve, and for the next three days they were constantly in my head.

At first those nine words might seem bleak ... even a bit macabre, given our species’ apparent simultaneous preoccupation with and aversion to death ... but they serve as a stark reminder of the Buddha’s admonition that nothing is permanent; our lives are fleeting, no more than a mote in the eye of time.

Time … I thought … if we are but one breath away from the end of our lives, time itself was an illusion, a phantom which we are forever chasing.

And in that profound realization comes great power: we have only Now; therefore, how we fill THIS moment is our choice of HOW to live. Our choice expresses our values.

We humans often approach life as if we are immortal. We screw around and waste time in meaningless pursuits, our minds enmeshed in insignificant dalliances, arguing over things that just don’t matter; we fret, we worry, we flail about and drown in a sea of "what if", "if only", "would have, should have, could have" … but never DO. We blame others for our failures and shortcomings. All the while we forget -- or ignore -- that the hour of our death may be upon us at any time. 

How many of us reach the end of our lives with regret for unfulfilled hopes and dreams? The number is significant enough that the very idea has become a near cliché.  The actor Michael Landon once famously said, "Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows.”

Sadly, we are not assured of ANY tomorrows. We do not live day to day; we only live breath to breath and we all affect our world – or allow it to affect us -- in the space of one breath to another.

What are we -- as individuals and as a species -- doing with the limited amount of time allotted to us?

Are we living in compassion and hope? Or do we wallow in self-pity and despair?

Are we devoting our time and our minds and our efforts to creating a better world? Or are we merely bitching about the one we see as being foisted upon us?

Are we extending an open hand to our fellow man? Or a fist?

Are we productive? Or destructive?

Are we loving? Hating? Or worse … indifferent?

Will the legacy we leave be fondly recalled? Or vilified?

We all like to believe that we are gifted with the same 24 hours. But, really, we are only kidding ourselves. Millions of people who fall asleep tonight will not wake to see another sunrise. The unvarnished Truth is that we are not guaranteed ANY time; all that we have is this present moment, this singular breath.

Many of us become prisoners of our own minds. Our internal dialogue turns doubtful and negative, bogs us down, keeping us from enjoying the moment. Like a tire stuck in mud, we allow our thoughts to trap us, keep us spinning in place. "Ordinary thoughts course through our mind like a deafening waterfall," wrote Jon Kabat-Zinn, author of the book "No Matter Where You Go, There You Are" and the man who introduced meditation into mainstream medicine. In order to feel more in control of our minds and our lives, to find the equilibrium that evades us, we need to pause, to breathe, to focus on our breathing and, as Kabat-Zinn says, to "rest in stillness—to stop doing and focus on just being."

Being and doing aren’t necessarily separate, as long as we do what we do with mindfulness.

Mindfulness is a state of attention on the present, on this moment, not bound by the past or wrapped up in the future. When you worry about what might be, or wonder what might have been, or dwell on the regrets of the past you ignore what IS. You must instead awaken to the notion that YOU are not YOUR THOUGHTS. Observe your thoughts from moment to moment without judging them. Let them go. And breathe. For in that moment of breath, the only moment we truly have, life occurs.

The idea of living in the now, in the present moment of this one breath is nothing new; it certainly did not originate with me. Sages, philosophers and thinkers have realized its value for centuries. My voice is merely an echo of theirs.

What it boils down to is that in reality there is no time to waste; we only waste the Now. Each moment that we have, every breath we draw is a gift more valuable than money, or jewels, or any material possession. To waste the Now is to waste Life itself.   

Make sure you are using that time wisely. Your life is your message and your message is your legacy.

There's Something Happening Here ...

"The Dalai Lama said acts of violence should be remembered, and then forgiveness should be extended to the perpetrators. But if someone has a gun and is trying to kill you, he said, it would be reasonable to shoot back with your own gun. Not at the head, where a fatal wound might result. But at some other body part, such as a leg." -- From the Seattle Times, March 1, 2013 coverage of a speech given to 7,600 Oregon and southwest Washington high-school students.

One can hardly conceive of a more vocal and passionate advocate of peace, forgiveness and compassion than Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. While he does not advocate killing an opponent (nor would I expect him to), it appears that even HE recognizes that there is a time for a forceful -- even violent -- response to protect one's life or the life of others.

His predecessor, Thupten Gyatso, His Holiness the 13th Dalai Lama, who died in 1933, would also appear to have shared the same sentiments. In 1932, only one year before his death Gyatso wrote in his "Political Last Testament":

“In the future, this system [Communism] will certainly be forced either from within or without on this land…If, in such an event, we fail to defend our land, the holy lamas…will be eliminated without a trace of their names remaining;…our political system…will be reduced to an empty name; my officials…will be subjugated like slaves to the enemy; and my people, subjected to fear and miseries, will be unable to endure day or night.”

“.…we should make every effort to safeguard ourselves against this impending disaster. Use peaceful means where they are appropriate; but where they are not appropriate, DO NOT HESITATE TO RESORT TO MORE FORCEFUL MEANS” (emphasis added).

Buddhism is seen as inflexibly pacifist, and that is simply not true. Jampa Tenzin, a Buddhist monk explains -- “Generally, of course, non-violence is good, and killing is bad…But each and every thing is judged according to the circumstances of the situation, and, particularly in Buddhism, according to the motivations….In order to save a hundred people, killing one person may be acceptable…Individual, or self, motivation is obviously not allowed ... and unless we did something sooner or later we couldn’t practice religion…Dharma [had to] prevail and remain…even by violent means.”

It is hard to argue with these holy men. While I do not identify as fully Buddhist the teachings of the Buddha, the Dalai Lama, and other spiritual leaders like Eckhart Tolle inform much of my worldview. Even the core essence of "love thy neighbor" as taught by Christianity -- though, again, I do not identify as Christian -- resonates with me. I, too, wish peace and compassion for us all; but that is frequently not the nature of the world in which we live. Evil oftentimes comes to us, without our bidding or even without our direct instigation. That is the nature of evil.

I wish to live my life in peace, undisturbed and unmolested. I have trained for decades with hands, feet, knives and other weapons; I have shot a variety of guns with friends, but up until recently haven't owned one in years. I do not purposely seek out violence or destruction; I want safety for my family, friends and loved ones, and NEVER wish to be put in the position of having to take a life in order to assure that outcome. But be absolutely certain, if it came down to protecting those I care about, I would not hesitate in doing so. Violently if need be.

With all of the talk and debate and hue and cry over violence -- especially gun violence -- filling our airwaves and television screens day after day, ad infinitum, I felt it was apropos to share the thoughts of these great men ... and a few of my own.

Peace and Liberty.

Autumn Morning

Up early this morning, just after 4:30. Sat around enjoying the silence, the cool air, and watching the sun come up. It was beautiful, almost the color of pumpkins. Later, as I drove to the Lovely Shirley's, I turned off the radio, shut off the cell phone, rolled the window down and opened the sun-roof, and drove slow as I could. It was early enough that there was no other traffic. Wispy patches of fog had settled on the hills and in the valleys, turned burning gold by the morning sun. I pulled over into the loose gravel on the side of the road watched as a doe and her fawn patiently crossed an old, unused apple orchard and disappeared into the mist. A little further a flock of wild turkeys picked among the stones of a pasture. If they were aware of me, they gave no indication. And with that -- with the sunrise, the fog, the wildlife, the cool Autumn air, and the quietude -- I experienced an awakening, brief moment of Zen-like bliss; the world was absolutely perfect.

These Old Boots

Looking forlorn and something like an afterthought, a pair of old leather hiking boots lays on the carpet under my ironing board in the second bedroom that I use for storage and laundry. One boot stands upright; the other lay on its side as if it fell over, exhausted, after a long journey. Maybe it did.

If footwear can have a personality these old boots certainly do. A pair of Earth Shoes purchased at Wal-Mart, I have had them for nearly 20 years, and they have become like old friends. The leather has stretched and shrunk, bent this way and that so many times they have almost become molded to the shape of my feet, a part of me.

We have been everywhere together – up and down rugged trails in Pennsylvania; hiking the sand and scrub pine through hordes of mosquitoes on Assateague Island; exploring the granite crags and promontories of Hawk Mountain Sanctuary. These old boots have been there through every kind of weather imaginable – we have joyously sloshed through rain water; bogged in mud so thick and gluey it threatened to suck them from my feet; shoveled more tons of snow than I care to recall; and trod ground so hardscrabble and dusty that my feet felt afire.

They have been part of my wardrobe through tests of the spirit as well – with me, on destinationless walks throughout the implosion of my marriage and resultant divorce; aimless, questioning wanderings through the bleak valley of depression; contemplative forest hikes to nowhere in search of answers to questions unknown; on the shores of Harveys Lake and the banks of the Susquehanna as I pondered the meaning (or lack thereof) and direction (or lack thereof) of my life. These old boots have even carried me home, mind-weary and bone-tired, more than once through blizzard conditions when my automobile would not.

They aren’t much to look at these days, scuffed and scratched, the laces worn, soles at last beginning to separate from the uppers. With their wrinkles and discolorations they are starting to show their age (much like me, I suppose). And like me, they have become a bit worn and road-weary, the years and miles having taken their toll on us both. But, for some reason that I am unable to explain, I cannot bear to get rid of them. To do so would be like discarding a part of my history.

So, like an old, faithful dog, here they are; just sitting there, as they always have, tried and true.

Always there when I need them.

Dependable.

Comfortable.

Waiting for the next round of new laces and glued soles.

Waiting, without question or judgement, to be pulled once again onto tired feet, for one more trip down the road.

I think, with a little care, a little attention to our hearts, we might both have a few more journeys, a couple more adventures left in us.

I love these old boots.

I will be back ... very soon

Hello, everyone. I apologize for the delay in updating this blog. "Real life" has a funny way of distracting us, doesn't it? For me, school is part of that reality, and with all of the time I have been devoting to my studies -- not to mention all of the beaurocratic and administrative bullsh-- um, nightmares that go along with returning to college at my age -- I have let "A Mindful Journey" slip to the wayside. Fret not, though, I have been working on articles (in a mostly piecemeal fashion, I admit) and will be posting again very soon. I continue to look forward to everyone's feedback. ... And if there are any blogs that you recommend, please let me know.

Have a great Memorial Day. Between the burgers, hot dogs, swimming, and family fun, please take a moment to remember those who have fallen in the service of their country -- and those who are still serving today -- to ensure that our freedoms and the dreams of our forefathers were are not lost to the backwaters of history.

On Bullies

Tyler Clementi, 18, Rutgers University; jumped to his death from the George Washington bridge. Larry Weinberg, 17, of Trenton, NJ hung himself with a leather belt. Jessica Logan, 18, Sycamore High School student asphyxiated herself. Jessica Train, 15, a pupil at Monkseaton High School in North Tyneside, Wallsend, England hanged herself. Phoebe Prince, a 15-year-old South Hadley High School student hanged herself in January. Hope Witsell, 13, a student at Beth Shields Middle School in Ruskin, FL, hanged herself from her bunk bed. 14 year old Samantha Kelly of New Boston, Michigan and a student at Huron High School in southwest Detroit, hanged herself. Jamarcus Bell, 14, a freshman at Hamilton Southeastern High School, Fishers, IN took his own life. Asher Brown, 13, of Cypress, TX and a student at Hamilton Middle school in Houston shot himself with his father's handgun.

All of these kids were bullied by their peers, or subjected to harrassment at the hands of classmates. All are dead as a result of this treatment; they are just a few of the hundreds that have taken their own lives in recent years. Boys and girls alike were equally bullied.

Bullying is abuse. It not a rite of passage. It is not "kids being kids." And it is leading to tragedy in numbers greater than ever before.

When presented with the opportunity to speak before school children about bullies and bullying, and how the study of Martial Arts contains specific benefits not found elsewhere, I use a personal story to illustrate my point. After graduating high school -- where I had been tormented mercilessly -- I thought I had finally left my problems behind me. I thought I was free. That turned out not to be the case. My father had helped to secure a job for me in the garage of a local trucking company. It was my first job, and one of my responsibilities was to fuel the big trucks as they came in from the road and to prepare them for their next departure. One afternoon one of the drivers, agitated from some problem that occurred on the road, decided to vent his anger on the nearest available person … me. I do not recall the exact details of the argument that subsequently started, but I do remember vividly that as the exchange became heated he hit me – a solid open-handed blow across the side of my head that sent me reeling. I also remember the rage that came over me, brought about by years of similar treatment in school. I remember thinking that this could not go on for the rest of my life, and I was overcome by tears of frustration. I knew I had to do something, and so I blindly hit back. At the time I thought it was a big mistake, since – like many bullies -- he was substantially larger. It took several of the other workers to separate us and remove me to the front parking lot for my own safety and to cool down. My head spun as much from the sudden flood of memories as from the trucker’s slap. I knew I could not live like this any longer. Within half an hour I was on the phone with a Martial Arts studio near where I lived. I made an appointment that would change my life. Upon first meeting the man who was to become my instructor, I was intimidated. He possessed all the charm and demeanor of a drill sergeant. He was a stern taskmaster. I nearly walked out the building, not recognizing much difference between his actions and the actions of those who had tormented me. Yet, as I watched the class, I was riveted. I was determined to join. I wanted revenge; I wanted to be tougher. And I knew -- I knew -- this was the way to achieve it. I made my decision.

The training was harsh – the toughest thing I had ever done in my life – sometimes even brutal. Today most Martial Arts studios are well-lit, air-conditioned, carpeted affairs and family-friendly. This studio and this specific instructor, however, were decidedly “old school.” The school had bare wooden floors with no padding; no ventilation, and smelled like the stale sweat of ages of heavy training sessions. The instructor's overriding philosophy basically boiled down to this: “Punish the body to strengthen the heart and the mind.” The regimen was intense and grueling, the pace insane. More often than not I would arrive home with my body a mass of bruises and swollen parts. My mother took one look at me and asked, “You actually pay someone to do this to you?” My only answer was, “I have to.”

One exceptionally hot summer day early in my training, my instructor closed all of the windows and turned on the heat. It was the middle of August, and outside the streets were baking in the heat. He proceeded to push us to our body’s very limits, drilling us mercilessly in basic kicks, punches, and blocks. People literally began to drop. One became sick. Several others, who could go no further, sat on a bench reserved for spectators. With no air conditioning or fan to cool us, the temperature was in the high eighties when we started, but must have reached 110 degrees in the room during that session. Cruel? Maybe. Unhealthy? Most definitely. Unthinkable in this more warm and fuzzy era? Absolutely. One didn’t pay much attention to the possibility of dehydration or heat stroke in those days. Yet such severe training forged my will and my discipline like steel. Through the sweat, sore muscles, aches, pain and blood I grew physically stronger. I was building my arsenal. Remember that phrase; it will be important soon.

A year or two after beginning lessons, I performed in a demonstration for a Fourth of July celebration at Tunkhannock Area High School, the very scene of much of my torment. By sheer coincidence, sitting in the audience that day was the trucker whose slap had been the catalyst that sent me on this path. I had since moved on from the job at the trucking company and, though I never really forgot about him I went on with my life, putting my thoughts of revenge into a dusty corner of my mind.

It was a bright day; hot and full of sunshine. During my part of the demonstration I was scheduled to break several cinder slabs with kicks and punches. My segment culminated with me using my head to shatter two that were stacked one atop the other. Head breaks are always crowd pleasers when they work (and comically gruesome spectacles when they don’t) and that one went off exactly as planned. The audience loved it and I thought nothing further of it, until days later when I happened to have had a conversation with a woman who had a mutual friendship with both the aforementioned truck driver and me. She approached and let me know that she had been speaking with the trucker and asked him if, having seen my performance, he would want to slap me now. He emphatically said “No.” At that singular moment I realized that I had changed, that I was no longer the kind of person who would be a victim to anyone. To this day, I don’t think that trucker knows or understands how large a compliment he paid me. For without throwing a single punch or kick at him, without resorting to violence of any kind, I had, in a fashion, earned his respect. It was not breaking the cinder slabs that made the difference in his thinking; it was my change in attitude, my perception of who and what I was. I had grown stronger mentally as well as physically. I walked differently than I had before and I carried myself with an air of pride. That one thing – attitude -- I tell the children in my seminars, is the essence of the Martial Arts, and it is often what makes all of the difference in the world. That was the key weapon in the arsenal I mentioned previously. The arsenal, I discovered, was filled with as many mental weapons as physical.

Bullying is an epidemic in this country, and indeed, the world. It is, however, a "silent epidemic" as many kids are reluctant to speak with parents or school officials; this may be due to shame, embarrassment, having been threatened, or fear of being seen as a squealer in addition to other abuse.

While Martial Arts were my chosen path, I respect that they may not be the way for everyone. Every child is unique, and for every child there is a unique answer. But before we can find the answers we must ask the right questions of our children. We must step up and accept responsibility for our kids, even during the times they claim not to want our help. As parents, educators, authority figures we must open our eyes to the problem and take away some of its power by shining a light on it. Scattering the shadows, real or perceived, means that the abuse is no longer suffered in secrecy.

He Said, She Said ...

There is something about a good quote that can touch the soul, awaken the senses, inspire action, and spark creativity. I have been engaged in the awesomely nerdy hobby of collecting these things since I was in high school. I filled several notebooks with literally thousands of them. Due to my 26 year long love affair with Martial Arts, alot come from various warrior traditions. Here are a few of the ones that have had a profound effect on me and my beliefs. Some may be familiar, others not so much. I offer no explanation as to how they inspired or benefitted me. Take them as they are. As long as this list is, believe me, it is a short list.

"That which does not kill us only serves to make us stronger." -- Friedrich Nietzsche

"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." ~ Mohandas K. Gandhi

"Dum spiro, spero (Latin), "While I breath, I hope" ~ Philemon

“A teacher is like a finger pointing the way to the moon. Look at the moon, not the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.” – Bruce Lee

"Momma always said: Stupid is as stupid does." -- Forrest Gump

"Stupidity should be painful." -- Me

"The greatest discovery of any generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitude." -- William James

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." -- Buddha

"Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without."-- Buddha

"We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world." --Buddha

"All things appear and disappear because of the concurrence of causes and conditions. Nothing ever exists entirely alone; everything is in relation to everything else." -- Buddha

"I've always found that anything worth achieving will always have obstacles in the way and you've got to have that drive and determination to overcome those obstacles on route to whatever it is that you want to accomplish." -- Chuck Norris

"A quick temper will make a fool of you soon enough." -- Bruce Lee

"A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer." -- Bruce Lee

"It's not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential." -- Bruce Lee

"Notice that the stiffest tree is most easily cracked, while the bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind." -- Bruce Lee

"To hell with circumstances; I create opportunities." -- Bruce Lee

"I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion - I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more - I could be martyred for my religion - Love is my religion - I could die for that." -- John Keats

"Fast is fine, but accuracy is everything." -- Wyatt Earp

"A man should look for what is, and not for what he thinks should be." -- Albert Einstein

"As far as I'm concerned, I prefer silent vice to ostentatious virtue." -- Albert Einstein

"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." -- Albert Einstein

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." -- Confucius

"In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher." -- Dalai Lama

"A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral." -- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born." -- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye." -- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"I have no right, by anything I do or say, to demean a human being in his own eyes. What matters is not what I think of him; it is what he thinks of himself. To undermine a man's self-respect is a sin." -- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space." -- Johnny Cash

"A man of knowledge lives by acting, not by thinking about acting." -- Carlos Castaneda

"The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same." -- Carlos Castaneda

"To achieve the mood of a warrior is not a simple matter. It is a revolution. To regard the lion and the water rats and our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of a warrior's spirit. It takes power to do " -- Carlos Castaneda

"A friend who is far away is sometimes much nearer than one who is at hand. Is not the mountain far more awe-inspiring and more clearly visible to one passing through the valley than to those who inhabit the mountain?" -- Kahlil Gibran

"I existed from all eternity and, behold, I am here; and I shall exist till the end of time, for my being has no end." -- Kahlil Gibran

"Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls." -- Kahlil Gibran

"Say not, 'I have found the truth,' but rather, 'I have found a truth.'" -- Kahlil Gibran

"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them." -- Kahlil Gibran

"When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you." -- Kahlil Gibran

"You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth." -- Kahlil Gibran

"Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire." -- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

"No greater thing is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen." -- Epictetus

"No man is free who is not master of himself." -- Epictetus

"The more obstinately you try to learn how to shoot the arrow for the sake of hitting the goal, the less you will succeed in the one and the further the other will recede." -- Eugen Herrigel

"As for me, all I know is that I know nothing." -- Socrates

"To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting." --Sun Tzu

"The important thing is this: to be able, at any moment, to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." -- Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

"Nothing is so strong as gentleness. Nothing is so gentle as real strength." - Frances de Sales

"Without Knowledge, Skill cannot be focused. Without Skill, Strength cannot be brought to bear and without Strength, Knowledge may not be applied." - Alexander the Great's Chief Physician

"Given enough time, any man may master the physical. With enough knowledge, any man may become wise. It is the true warrior who can master both....and surpass the result." - Tien T'ai

"Act like a man of thought - Think like a man of action." - Thomas Mann

"It is a brave act of valor to condemn death, but where life is more terrible than death it is then the truest valor to dare to live." - Sir Thomas Brown

"We do not rise to the level of our expectations. We fall to the level of our training" -- Martial Arts maxim

"You must concentrate upon and consecrate yourself wholly to each day, as though a fire were raging in your hair." - Taisen Deshimaru, Zen Master

"The test of a good teacher is not how many questions he can ask his pupils that they will answer readily, but how many questions he inspires them to ask him which he finds it hard to answer." -- Martial Arts proverb

"It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop." - Confucius

"It is the very mind itself that leads the mind astray; Of the mind, Do not be mindless." -- Takuan Soho

"Teachers open the door, but you must enter by yourself" - Chinese Proverb

"Generally speaking, the Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death." -- Miyamoto Musashi

"There are no contests in the Art of Peace. A true warrior is invincible because he or she contests with nothing. Defeat means to defeat the mind of contention that we harbor within." -- Morihei Ueshiba, founder of the Martial Art of Aikido

“When a warrior learns to stop the internal dialogue, everything becomes possible; the most far-fetched schemes become attainable.” -- Carlos Casteneda

“A warrior takes responsibility for his acts, for the most trivial of acts. An average man acts out his thoughts, and never takes responsibility for what he does.” -- Carlos Castaneda

“To be a warrior is not a simple matter of wishing to be one. It is rather an endless struggle that will go on to the very last moment of our lives. Nobody is born a warrior, in exactly the same way that nobody is born an average man. We make ourselves into one or the other.” -- Carlos Castaneda

"When a warrior makes the decision to take action, he should be prepared to die. If he is prepared to die, there shouldn’t be any pitfalls, any unwelcome surprises, any unnecessary acts. Everything should gently fall into place because he is expecting nothing." -- Toltec proverb

"As long as man feels that he is the most important thing in the world, he cannot really appreciate the world around him. He is like a horse with blinders; all he sees is himself, apart from everything else." -- Yaqui proverb

"It doesn’t matter how one was brought up. What determines the way one does anything is personal power. A man is only the sum of his personal power, and that sum determines how he lives and how he dies." -- Yaqui proverb

“You haven't yet opened your heart fully, to life, to each moment. The peaceful warrior's way is not about invulnerability, but absolute vulnerability--to the world, to life, and to the Presence you felt. All along I've shown you by example that a warrior's life is not about imagined perfection or victory; it is about love. Love is a warrior's sword; wherever it cuts, it gives life, not death.” -- Dan Millman, from The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

“The basic difference between an ordinary man and a warrior is that a warrior takes everything as a challenge, while an ordinary man takes everything as a blessing or a curse.” -- Carlos Castaneda from Tales of Power

The Lovely Shirley

I awake each morning with the alarm at 4:00 AM. At the same time, regular as clockwork, a rooster crows from somewhere in a distant field behind my house. I love this hour of the morning, before the sunrise, when most of the world is still sleeping.

This is usually my morning ritual: shower and shave; dress; pack a bagged lunch for work; make coffee; meditate for about half an hour; brush my teeth; then out the door to work at the hospital.

Prior to all of that, however, I indulge in a smaller but not insignificant ritual. Upon waking I walk to the living room and spend a few moments contemplating a portrait of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman that hangs there. It is a sepia toned still from Casablanca. In it, a smiling Ingrid Bergman sits cradled in Bogart's embrace, her head upon his chest, his lips barely grazing her brow.

The picture holds special significance for me, not because it is a scene captured from one of my favorite films, but because its presentation to me marks the exact moment that I fell in love with Shirley Williams. Equally important, it illustrates one of the reasons why I fell in love with her and why my love grows every day.

I met Shirley on a blind date arranged by our mutual friend, Suzi Tuzinski (http://suzituzi.blogspot.com/). Including this one, I have been on exactly two blind dates in my 45 years, and the first was an unmitigated disaster. Needless to say I was less than hopeful of a pleasant outcome. My philosophy going into this thing was, "Have no expectations. But you have been shut in, alone, for far too long, Gary. It will do you good to get out and have a little fun. The worst thing that can happen is that you come away from this having made a new friend."

On January 24th, 2010, we were to meet, along with Suzi and her husband Andy, at Dugan's Pub in Luzerne. Casual atmosphere, drinks, conversation. Very light. No pressure. I had never been to the pub, but I later learned that Shirley, Suzi, and Andy were old friends of the owner; this afforded Shirley a slight degree of comfort (and security) that I lacked. I briefly considered backing out (so did she I later learned), but I had given my word that I would be there. Both of us were coming out of painful breakups of long-term relationships, and neither of us wanted to be hurt again. Neither of us was thrilled with the prospect of re-entering the dating scene in our mid-40s. All of my fears were allayed the moment Shirley walked into the room.

Prior to the date, when Suzi first suggested that she might have a friend that she would like me to meet, I had asked what she was like. "She is petite, blonde, great personality .. she looks like a Dallas Cowboy's cheerleader."

Suzi's description, while accurate fell short. Shirley was absolutely radiant in a black sweater and Tommy Hilfiger jeans; a halo of blonde curls framed an angelic face and a smile so brilliant it could have come from a toothpaste ad. More though, I was drawn to her eyes, the color of dark, sweet chocolate.

My jaw was, I am quite sure, literally hanging open. At just over five feet tall, she could have knocked me over with a feather. I know I must have introduced myself because she shook my hand and responded, "Hello, Gary. I am Shirley. It's nice to meet you", but, honestly, I cannot recall actually saying anything; in my mind all that registered was meaningless gibberish ... "buhbuhbuhbuh."

Dinner was a blur of laughter, nerves, and conversation. Afterward we all said our good-byes; Shirley and I exchanged a few pleasantries, commented how nice it was to meet each each other, said good-night and headed to our cars. But as I unlocked my door, I hesitated. Thoughts began to churn; I had had a good time getting to know Shirley; she was not only beautiful, she was intelligent, fascinating, funny, and a genuinely nice person.; neither of us was currently involved with anyone. "Why not?" I thought. "What have you got to lose?" So I screwed up the courage and approached her as she was getting into her car. "Look," I said, all dry-mouthed and nervous as hell. "I really enjoyed meeting you. But I have been out of the game for so long I don't even know how it's played anymore, so I'll come right out and ask: could I call you sometime?"

"Yes," she said. "Or email." I laughed a bit at that, and email it was. Email was safe; one could make contact at one's own leisure, without pressure or immediacy and still maintain a comfortable distance ... perfect for two wounded hearts.

I bid her goodnight, attempting an awkward hug. She responded with a slight, non-committal "lean-in" and the date was over.

That was January. A month or two of email exchanges in which we asked and answered dozens of "getting to know you" questions about each other were followed by phone calls (although it did take her FOREVER to add my number to her contact list), then, finally, an honest-to-goodnes, face-to-face date.

As I now stand in my living room, looking at Bogey's Rick Blaine embracing Bergman's Ilsa Laszlo, I am struck by the changes in our lives and the depths of emotions that have developed over these last seven months. It has been only three or four months since I first said "I love you" to Shirley, words I never thought would ever pass my lips again.

The portrait of Bogart and Bergman came about as a result of a conversation that was mostly small-talk (or so I thought) ... in fact, I don't even recall if we were specifically talking about favorite movies. It was a moment in passing. Weeks later, Shirley came to my apartment for dinner. She said she had a surprise for me, and the moment she pulled the picture from the bag I felt something deep inside of me ... shift. I was stunned. She had picked up and acted on one small fragment of a conversation that I had dismissed as insignificant.

She had listened to me.

More important, she had heard.

With that realization, at that exact moment, I fell. My heart filled and I fell completely in love with Shirley May Williams. Each day, I continue to fall a little further.

Every morning I spend a quiet moment with Rick and Ilsa, honoring that moment, loving Shirley.

"Here's looking at you, kid."

Life Changes ... So There!

Over the past several months I have come to understand that "mindfulness", defined in the Buddhist tradition as "meditatively and without judgement paying attention to the present moment", also means (at least for me) "meditatively and without judgement paying attention to what has come before." That is, not to be harnessed by the past, crippled by it, but simply to observe it, acknowledge it, at best learn from it, and at worst simply move on. Paying mindful attention to one's past is something of a conundrum: how can one be mindful of the past and still remain fully present?

The key, I believe, lays in the aspect of being non-judgemental, passively observing your own history. The problem for most of us arises when we allow ourselves to become emotionally attached -- either positively or negatively -- to these past events, situations, or behaviors.

You might ask: how can I not be emotionally attached to these things? Only when we come to realize that past events (1) have no inherent power other than that we grant it, (2) have no control over us other than that we allow, (3) do not define who we are can we view them without passion or attachment and see them for what they are -- a series of former Nows. We did what we did, said, what we said, thought what we thought, and behaved in a manner that we felt best served us at that time. But the past is no more; so to continue to be tied irrevocably to the emotions of the past is to become its prisoner, and to deny the very essence of who we are.

The point? Every life changes every day; every night we die to the old and we are reborn to the new each morning. To be hamstrung by past situations, no matter how grand or infinitesimal, no matter what they are, makes no sense. We make excuse after excuse (disguised as rational reasons, of course) to justify our position: "I am the way I am because: my parents abused me ... I was raped ... I was picked on in school ... my husband/wife left me ... I came from a poor neighborhod ..." on and on, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. The fact is, those are things that happened to you; they are not who you are. Who you are transcends circumstances and events, unles you alone choose otherwise. That is important: we choose who we are.

Allow me to pause briefly and say several things: (1) I am not trivializing the significance of any past event, especially those of a traumatic nature; God knows there have been enough of those in my own life. They are important in that they provide a reference point, a central focus from which to choose -- yes, choose -- to either become paralyzed or to build and say, "This will never happen again." (2) even in the absence of huge, life-altering traumatic events, many people take events that are far smaller in scale and conciously or unconciously blow them up, attaching far greater importance than they deserve. They use them to justify present behavior, or to elicit sympathy from others. This is a manifestation of the ego, not one's authentic self, (3) again ... what happens to you does not by default define who you are.

Some lives change in ways that are smooth and subtle, in a manner not easily discernable to the casual observer. Others -- like, oh, my own, for instance -- are more volcanic, undergoing protracted periods of great upheaval and turmoil before settling into mere chaos. Mildly stated, my life -- especially over the last decade -- might best and only half joking described as "convulsive." The highlights, in no particular order, include: divorce, multiple career changes, personal and family health issues, a business failure, financial hardships, a long bout with depression, threats of suicide, the breakup of a long-term relationship, a return to school in my mid-40s, graduating with an Associate's Degree in Medical assisting, more schooling and the decision to pursue my Registered Nurse degree, and finally finding new love with the Lovely Shirley (yes, that Shirley ... she of the blind date, lo, those many months ago -- more on that next time -- see the post "Sailing the Wind"). With so many ups and downs life, then, has been anything but dull. There is enough "negativity" (if I am being judgemental about it; otherwise "negativity" isn't negative, it just Is) in my past to hold me emotionally hostage for the rest of my life ... were I to allow it. And honestly there have been occasions when I have done just that.

This is my life. It is no different from any other life in that we all have a story, a past. As I have explored mindfulness and meditation and have begun to learn to live more in the present, I have been able, with greater frequency, to let go of the ego's desperate clinging to those emotional traps.

Letting go of the past is like being freed from shackles; being fully in the present moment is like breathing pure, sweet, fresh air.

Love After Love

I came across a recitation of this poem while listening to a lecture by John Kabat-Zinn, author, philosopher, mindfulness educator, and Director of the Stress Reduction Clinic in Worcester, Massachussetts.

It was written by The Hon. Derek Alton Walcott, OCC (born January 23, 1930), a Caribbean poet, playwright, writer and visual artist who was born in Castries, Saint Lucia and who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1992.

The poem nicely sums up (at least to me) how many of us wander away from our true, authentic selves, only to come back home at the end (whatever that end may be).


Love after Love

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.


~ Derek Walcott ~

Found on the Web

A Spiritual Journey

And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles,
no matter how long,
but only by a spiritual journey,
a journey of one inch,
very arduous and humbling and joyful,
by which we arrive at the ground at our feet,
and learn to be at home.

~ Wendell Berry ~

(Collected Poems)

Sailing the Wind

"I didn't pick the wind; that was imposed by a power far greater than myself. But I had to sail the wind -- against it, with it, sideways to it; I had to wait it out with the patience of Job when it didn't blow -- if I wanted to move myself from where I was to where I wanted to go." -- Richard Bode, First You Have to Row a Little Boat

I've allowed this blog to slip in recent weeks while dealing with the emotional aftermath of losing my relationship with Theo. I haven't felt much like writing, although my head was fairly bursting with thoughts. I needed private time to bring closure to that chapter.

Theo and I were together for just about 10 mostly good years until circumstances (touched upon in an earlier post) parted us. I spent the past 18 months attempting to rectify the damage. I transformed my entire life; moved out on my own; got a new job; went back to school; established new goals; worked my way toward a career in health care; established new priorities of what was and was not important; and took up daily meditation to combat depression. With the exception of moving out of the house we had shared -- which wasn't my idea, but in hindsight proved not only necessary, but hugely beneficial -- I did these things mostly for myself, to rebuild a shattered life. But, if I am being honest, I also did them in part to prove to Theo that I could stand independently, to be the man that she needed me to be; an equal, a partner in the truest sense of the word.

I loved her, and no matter what the future holds, or what direction my life may take, part of me always will. At one time I considered her my soulmate and remained convinced that despite all that had transpired we would be together again. I did not date, did not meet anyone. I worked on my life.

My efforts were for nothing. Just after the start of the New Year I informed Theo of the progress I had attained and suggested a reconciliation; not all at once, but slowly; dating. For reasons of her own -- too long and unnecessary to my point to go into here -- she said no.

In the space of a breath, my world collapsed; my hopes vanished. It was like being gut-punched. In the space of a breath, I felt hollow, as if I had wasted an entire year and a half of my life, time that I would never recover. I felt stupid for doing so, all the while knowing that I shouldn't; I had only done what I believed to be correct at the time.

The death of a love is sometimes worse than physical death. In physical death the body is gone, commited to the earth or to ash, and we are left with our memories. When a deep, abiding love dies, though, we are left with a living, breathing daily reminder of what might have been. The wound in the heart never fully closes. We bear witness to the other person growing, loving, moving on without us. In this case, the effect was doubled; Theo and I were so close -- even after the initial separation -- that not only had I lost the possibility of reconciling with my girlfriend, but I had lost my friend as well.

I did not ask for this wind, but the choice was abundantly clear: sail with it, or resist it and be torn apart. It took more than a few days to wrap my head around certain harsh realities, to realize that no matter how desperately I wished things were different, they never again would be.

It isn't ever easy to cope with an unexpected loss, but one can never really stand still; in life, one either moves forward or slides back. Life simply doesn't give a shit whether you like or dislike the situation you are in -- only you do. Life doesn't give a shit whether you experience joy or pain, whether you are happy or miserable -- only you do. Life just "is."

With any such loss there remain many questions: "Where did it go?", "What exactly became of the 'us' we once spoke of?", "What was 'us'?", "How do you let go?"

That last question, especially, burrowed deep and squirming into my head. How does one erase, reduce, or replace ten years shared with another? The answer is: You don't; trying to do that is like resisting the wind.

And so I took a few days to cry, to hurt, to be with myself, to think, to breathe, and ultimately to begin letting go. I'd like to think that Theo and I could still be friends. But that is not up to me. It may happen one day. Or it may not. And that is OK.

Life goes on. This past Sunday I had dinner with my dear friend Suzi Tuzinski (see her blog http://suzituzi.blogspot.com/) and her husband Andy; they introduced me to their friend Shirley. I didn't think I was ready to meet anyone new, and I was such a nervous wreck that I almost backed out at the last minute. I am glad I didn't. I have no idea what is yet to come, but Shirley is a wonderful and interesting woman. And the worst that could happen is that I make a new friend.

I am learning to sail the wind.

The Deepest Hurt

After loving her for nearly 11 years, I have lost Theo.

Despite all that has happened, all that we have been through together I thought the relationship could be saved.

I was wrong.

A long time ago, a friend of mine said that every loss brings us something even as it takes away, but I will be goddamned if I can determine the lesson from this. All I know right now is that there is a hole in the center of my life that will never be filled. Nothing has ever hurt like this. I won't go into detail because the wound is still raw, and I can't seem to find the words anyway.

How do you turn off an emotion that was built over a decade? How do you move on?

An Amazing Woman

This is my daughter, SheilBea. The older she gets the more amazed I am by her. I have a hard time, sometimes, seeing her as anything other than "daddy's little girl." And while I hope she will always be that ... I know she is so much more. She is a beautiful person where it truly counts the most: in her heart.

This girl has such a good solid head on her shoulders, far moreso than I did at her age. She is focused and disciplined in her approach to whatever she pursues -- from cheerleading to photography to community involvement. I wish I could say she gets those qualities from me, since they were the bedrock of the Martial Arts I once taught ... but truth is she is definitely her own person, and is far less limited than I was at her age.

She wants to be a professional photographer with her own studio in New York City. Knowing her abilities as I do, I have no doubt that is exactly what she will be.

Truth is, she isn't my little girl anymore; she is a woman who I admire greatly.

Group homes don't allow time off for holidays; so, knowing I was scheduled to work 3PM-11PM on both Christmas Eve and 16 hours on Christmas Day, I was thoroughly prepared to endure a completely shitty holiday.

As it turned out, however, SheilBea had planned a little surprise for me that afternoon. She brought me a gourmet lunch from Seasons restaurant, and my Christmas gifts -- a box of salt water taffy; a Spider-Man puffy magnet; a Spider-Man blanket that she made herself; assorted homemade baked goods, cookies, brownies, and Chinese Chews (one of my favorites); and an "Emotions of Chuck Norris" t-shirt. But, most touching of all, she brought me a small Christmas tree and all the decorations, including lights, ornaments, ribbons & candy canes. I don't usually decorate, but she said she "wanted to decorate a tree with Daddy."

Can I honestly tell you how much I was moved by that simple, singular gesture?

So that's exactly how we spent the afternoon: eating a wonderful lunch, decorating the tree, laughing, and opening a few gifts. All of those things, however, paled in comparison to the time I got to spend with the most amazing young woman I know: my daughter.

SheilBea, words will never do justice to the love I feel for you. Thank you so much for being who you are, and for being the best daughter I could ever hope for.

A Song for You Far Away

Life is full of loss ... and that loss comes in many forms. We lose loved ones to death and commit them to memory, cherishing the time we shared.

Just as powerful is the disappearance or dissolution of a deep and abiding friendship; that can be as profoundly moving as any death, the remaining void just as empty. Even though we wish them the very best on their own life journey, their absence from our days is as sincerely and intensely felt as any wound.

Though we all mourn, how we deal with loss is important. Do we agonize and become paralyzed? Or do we learn, grow, and move on? Each of us deals differently.

I had never heard this James Taylor song before ... but it just kind of appeared out of nowhere today and fell perfectly into place and I'm glad it did ... fits with a few things that are on my mind tonight. This is for you my friend ...

A Note to a Dear Friend

"A friend who is far away is sometimes much nearer than one who is at hand. Is not the mountain far more awe-inspiring and more clearly visible to one passing through the valley than to those who inhabit the mountain?" -- Kahlil Gibran

Where are you now? I wonder. What are you doing at this very moment? Could it be that you, too, are looking out your window at the cold, steady, November rain and thinking of me as I am of you?

Dare I hope?

How is it that two disparate souls with so much in common, with so many similar thoughts, ideas, and emotions -- yet with differences enough to intrigue and attract -- can wander aimlessly through most of their lives, each blissfully unaware of the other? And yet how can these same souls then converge for only the briefest of time, as fleeting as a meteor streaking through the dome of night, each leaving such an indelible impression on the other?

Do you even know what you have come to mean to me? I hesitate to call you "friend" because the label, as mere as it is, cannot hope to contain the definition in my heart. Of you, my dear friend, I can say only this: your presence in my life has left me profoundly changed for the better. For what more could I possibly ask?

"Once in a lifetime" ... it is a phrase that has become time-worn; yet it fits when describing the kinship I feel with you, my good, dear friend. You have no idea of the enormity of the gift that you have given me -- the gift of simply knowing you.

You once said that your goal was to make me forget a certain longstanding pain. While I fear that I may never forget, you succeeded in taking away the sting.

"Are you still there? Of course you are ... I can hear you echoing through the corridors of my heart." – Me

You never lose the closest friends. They are always there, whether in sun or in shadow, whether in fog or in rain; they are only but a breath away. All you ever need do is reach out and they are there.

A walk along the streets of summer. Late night conversations until you drifted into fitful sleep. Your laughter. My laughter. How good it felt to laugh again ... like stepping into the sun after a long winter. These are my memories of you.

Life is much fuller for having known you, and far, far emptier in your absence.

“Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.” --Gloria Naylor

In your time of need, I am here. I will support you, unconditionally, in whatever you choose to do. I am a shoulder to lean on; an ear to listen; or simply a comforting memory if you become lost. I am here for how long and in whatever capacity you need. Day by day, every day.

My only wish is for your happiness, for you to find your destination at the end of whatever road you travel. For you to finally reach that space where you can say, “Here I am. I am home.”

For who you are … for what you have done … for all that you have given … for everything that you mean, I thank you from the bottom of this wounded heart.

The pinot grigio awaits your glass.

"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetime, is certain for those who are friends." -- Richard Bach

Right Now ...

What is the future but an illusion? What is the past but a shadow? The former is unknowable; the latter is unchangeable.

All we have is the present. Now. This exact moment.

A friend of mine once said that we live in a world that is so chaotic, so hectic, so concerned with motion and hell-bent on moving forward, and so speculative about what might happen that we ignore what is happening; that there is never a Now. Most of us live so much in the future that Now is merely a stepping stone to next. We overlook the bounty of what we have in favor of what we desire. We microwave in minutes meals that once took our grandmothers an afternoon to prepare; not because we wish to enjoy the food sooner, but because the faster we eat, the faster we can move on to the next thing. The paradox is that when that "next" arrives, it becomes "now" and we barrel through it as well. It is a pursuit that never ends.

For me, there is but a single truth that I need to know about my future: someday, hopefully far off on that distant horizon, I will die.

Until that time, the only matter of consequence is what I choose to do with each successive Now.

Meditation

Eyes close. Breath rises and falls in an easy, surf-like rhythm. One by one, muscles loosen and relax. Internal voices slowly recede into silence. The mind calms and lifts, riding on ever deepening breaths. Stress melts. Heart and Spirit expand, moving outward and upward into the Universe, until all that remains is peace.

This is meditation.

This is also the process by which I was finally able to reclaim a semblance of control over the train wreck that was my former life. That quality -- control -- is the single most significant factor in my ongoing recovery. It is a terible feeling when one percieves that they have no control over their own life.

There is a common perception in the West that in order to find purpose, meaning, or value in life we must look beyond ourselves. While there may be merit in that, I subscribe to a somewhat more Eastern point of view in that we must first recognize that we are purposeful ... meaningful ... and valuable in and of ourselves, without need for external validation, simply because we are. In my opinion, the Western view tends to remove us from events and situations, placing us apart and in the position of a spectator; it is almost victim-like in its perspective of control: things happen to us.

For me, though, the Eastern approach makes more sense: things do not happen to us; they happen through us. We are an inseperable part of the flow. Initially, I had a difficult time grasping -- let alone accepting -- that concept; years of blaming circumstances and other people for all the ills in my life had left me highly resistant to the idea that I alone was responsible for who and what I had become.

I know so many people who, like I once did, push off their career failures on the boss or co-worker who is out to get them ... blame their divorce, seperation, or relationship break up totally on their partner ... reason that their drug or alcohol addiction is because of stress ... fault society for their criminal record ... and blame their generally shitty state of affairs on anyone or anything but themselves.

Yes, of course, forces outside of ourselves are always acting upon us, but these forces NEVER cause our behaviour -- we do.

"When you become a warrior you learn to meditate in every action." -- Nick Nolte as Socrates, from the film adaptation of Dan Millman's book, Peaceful Warrior

Meditation brought me out of spectatorship and, by directing my attention inward, placed me in the moment, clarified my personal responsibility for my life. At first, this was a daunting realization -- no, it was terrifying -- because it removed the convenience of blaming someone else. Once I surmounted that hurdle, however, I felt an incredible sense of liberation; no longer did I give my power away; I alone -- no one else -- was in control. That was enlightening. But not entirely correct.

"You don't surrender your dreams, Dan. You surrender the one thing you never had and you never will: control. Accept that you don't control what will happen to you." -- Nick Nolte as Socrates from the film adaptation of Dan Millman's book, Peaceful Warrior

Ultimately control is an illusion; we can no more control what happens to us than we can control the rising and setting of the sun. The only thing that we can control is what we do about it in this moment. That acceptance is where the real power lays. And daily meditative practice was the gateway through which it entered my life.

My meditation is dictated by any number of factors -- my mood, my goals, the time of day, location, even the weather. There are as many meditations, and as many methods of meditating as there are people who meditate. I regularly practice several types, among them:

MINDFULNESS -- I particularly like the definition put forth by John Kabat-Zinn, founder of the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program at the University of Massachussetts Medical Center. He said,

"Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgementally."

Beautiful ... in the present moment ... after all, all we really have is right now. Why waste it? And yet, all of us are guilty of it at times. Our lives are complex; our times are materialistic, ambitious, ego-driven, and outer-directed. We have forgotten how to see, how to listen, to be in touch with our own heart, our own Spirit, and the flow of life. No matter what we are doing -- from work, to school, to making love with our partner -- our minds are constantly being pulled in a thousand different directions, and we are disconnected from the Now.

Mindfulness is a concious, purposeful direction of our awareness to whatever we are experiencing at the moment -- whether it is simply breathing, a particular emotion, a meal that we are eating, a conversation, an argument, sex, anything. Therefore, mindfullness does not have to be constrained to a formal meditation session. Because it requires no equipment, no uniform, no special conditions, any activity done mindfully -- that is aware without judgement -- becomes a meditation unto itself.

For example, if you find yourself caught in the rain, instead of cursing your luck or the weather (about which you can do nothing anyway) take a moment to feel the rain ... to feel each individual drop on your face ... to hear its sound as it strikes the ground ... to smell it around you. Just stop. Let go of whatever distracting thoughts crowd your busy mind, turn your face to the sky and, simply ... let it rain.

You can do this if you are washing the dishes ... watching television ... preparing a meal ... doing your taxes ... or sitting in a room alone.

"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." -- Pascal

Mindfulness has been one of the most significant methods for me in overcoming and managing depression. Now, when it hits, instead of allowing one negative thought to spiral into another, until they threaten to crush me under their weight, I simply ... let it rain. I am aware of the thoughts, the emotions; I feel them but form no attachment to them. They come into my head, I acknowledge their presence, and I let them go, like passing strangers on the street. Like drops of rain, they slide away; and like rain, the depression passes. The depression will always be there, but being mindful makes it bearable.

CANDLE -- I sit in a dark or semi-darkened room on a comfortable cushion, chair, or folded blanket on the floor. Any candle will do but I prefer the long tapered kind. I start by lighting the candle (duh). Then I settle into a comfortable posture and, closing my eyes, take several slow, deep breaths to clear the mind and, starting at the top of my head and moving downward, focus on relaxing every muscle group one by one. After several minutes, and upon starting to enter a state of deep relaxation, I slowly open my eyes to focus on the the candle flame. The "goal", such as it is, of the meditation is to follow the flickering of the candle flame, to project into the flame, all the while following my breath and releasing any errant thoughts that come to mind.

SITTING -- I prefer solitude when sitting in meditation, but it can be done virtually anywhere, at any time. For that reason, this is the easiest and most convenient meditation for me to perform. I have even meditated in a classroom full of students during between-class breaks at school. I begin by assuming the most comfortable posture possible -- if I am alone, half-lotus; back straight but relaxed; the backs of my hands resting lightly on my knees; or kneeling in a "Zen posture", with a seiza, pillow, or cushion tucked under my butt; back straight; head slightly bowed; tongue resting against the roof of the mouth; hands folded in my lap; the fingers of the right hand restling on the fingers of my left; thumbs lightly touching and forming an "O". If I am in public -- as in the aforementioned classroom -- I sit upright in my chair, back straight, head bowed, hands in the "Zen position" described above. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, evenly, and slowly, relaxing each muscle group as before. As I relax, I enter the second phase of the meditation: this is the deeper, almost trance-like aspect of the exercise. I count breaths throughout, beginning "1" on the first inhale; hold briefly; "1" again on the exhale; and repeat throughout the meditation. With each breath my mind goes deeper and deeper. Thoughts come and I allow them to go, keeping my focus always on my breath. The goal is to clear the mind of all distractions ... all thoughts ... to simply breathe and to be.

So there you have it, my practice of meditation. It is not orthodox, written in stone, or derived from any particular discipline. But it works. And it has kept me sane and off prescription medications for about the last year.

I would like to hear your stories ... of your meditative practices ... of how you cope with depression ... your perceptions of this blog and what it offers ... of how you use mindfullness in your lives ... and just of your feelings on life in general.

Until then, be mindful of yourselves, and of others.

Soul Mates

“People can leave each other, cross continents, sever ties. But if they are meant to be together, then time and distance dissolve, and they are reunited.” -- Yitta Halberstam & Judith Leventhal, Small Miracles

Once, long ago, a lifetime, or yesterday, an ancient voice whispered, “I am your Soul Mate.”

We are born with a hole in our heart in the shape of our one significant other, our Soul Mate. Love is truly all that matters; it is the final piece in the puzzle that is our life, without which we remain incomplete. We spend the majority of our lives searching – consciously or unconsciously – for the One who fills that hole completely and seamlessly. They are out there. Sometimes our orbits come close, within a whisper of contact, almost there, yet gaps remain; other times we remain lifetimes apart. The search is often long and difficult, carrying us over unfamiliar and sometimes rocky terrain in our own heart. We grow weary of the games, of dancing around the edges, of the search itself and so we compromise, settling for the one who closest fills the hole instead of waiting for the One. We do this because we are lonely, or impatient, or simply because it is easier; and it is easier because we convince ourselves over time that, having chased after smoke and shadow for so long, if we haven’t found our Soul Mate yet perhaps we never will. We would do anything, including stopping short of our One True Love, to avoid the despair of being alone.

And yet, in my heart, I believe that our Soul Mates are out there, waiting. Or could they be engaged in a search of their own … looking for us? Some of us may be lucky: we find that elusive Other with whom our very souls are aligned for eternity. Still, others among us are deceived, though perhaps not deliberately: we may find someone we genuinely care for, even love, and yet there may remain a grain of doubt and we go on asking, “Is this the One? Is this the love of my lifetime?” And so again, we settle for what we feel may be the closest we may ever come to our ideal; we settle for comfort, safety, routine, and partial love instead of inviting risk and passionately pursuing the all abiding, life-encompassing Love that we so richly deserve and that awaits us, hidden just around some corner. We luxuriate in the familiar because it is familiar. Within our hearts continues to beat a distant longing, an age-old knowing that not only must there be more but that without doubt there is more and that it is real. For any question there is also an answer; when you find your Soul Mate doubt vanishes; there is only an ancient knowledge that there are many levels, many shadings of love. And while you may love the one you are with … well, lowercase “love” is not the Love that stirs to the deepest part of ourselves, and to love is not the same as to be in Love. With our Soul Mate we are more fully ourselves than at any other time in our life because they are quite literally the missing piece of ourselves. We are at last complete. They fit the shape of our heart. The truth is that the heart is never wrong, and it sees clearly that which is invisible to the eye; it understands more assuredly than the brain. Every step … every passing moment … every doomed relationship … or failed marriage has inexorably drawn us closer and closer to this one person … and in turn, lead them to us. A grand design, it leads to this: Apart, the two are but mere fractions; together, each filling the other’s heart, they cease to be simply two, apart, becoming One. Forever joined in Spirit and Soul. Inseparable. Even if they are driven apart by distance or circumstance, there beats in the heart of the one the soul of the other.

In a feeling that approaches the Spiritual, we are aware at our core, maybe even down to the atoms that make up our bodies, that that missing element of ourselves, our Soul Mate is most certainly out there. Funny thing, though, the harder we look the more difficult it seems they are to find. The paradox: we search by letting go, we draw nearer by releasing, we find by not looking. And they find us when and maybe where we least expect.

It is with our Soul Mate that we truly reveal – perhaps for the first or only time – who we really are, the best and worst parts of ourselves, honestly, with no veneer. Together, we are able to weather the fiercest storms of life, yet whose absence causes storms within. Only with our Soul Mate can we feel … experience … know … live True, life-changing Love.

Soul Mates are forever bound, a fragile spider web weaving throughout separate existences, leading one to the other … eternal … each a dream, a hope in the shape of the other’s heart … destined.

“When Love beckons to you, follow him, though his voice may shatter your dreams.” – Anonymous

“When Love is strong and runs deep, it pulsates with an energy that cannot be stopped, not even by death’s grip. When two souls are connected and then separated, the separation may seem final, but in truth the relationship transcends time. Love, like a river, flows eternal and it embraces all who swim in its waters.” -- Yitta Halberstam & Judith Leventhal, Small Miracles

“Death cannot stop true love; all it can do is delay it a little while.” – Westly to Princess Buttercup, The Princess Bride

More of the Music I've Been Listening To ...

Beth Nielsen Chapman ... I wish the sound on this was a bit cleaner. I was introduced to BNC's music several years ago ... This is from her best album, "Sand & Water"

What I'm Currently Listening To

I've been in kind of a mellow mood ... maybe it's all that meditation ... LOL ...

Mary Chapin Carpenter




John Berry (had the pleasure of hearing this song performed live when he played the Luzerne County Fair)



Mary Chapin Carpenter again ..



MCC again ... (wish I could have found a clearer version)


MCC once more ... (not so mellow, but I love the philosophy!)

A Bunch of Things I Really Like

Want to know me a little better? (Of course you do, how silly of me to ask). Here are a few things that might give you a bit of insight into my personality and life. Then again, maybe not ... It's almost 1:30AM as I'm writing this and I'm kind of tired, so maybe it's just all meaningless babble. Regardless, I am passionate to one degree or another about each of the points that follow.

** SheilBea, my daughter (it would be kinda weird if I didn't like her wouldn't it?)

** The sound of my daughter's laughter, especially when she is watching the movie, "Mama Mia" (yes, I've seen it; I'm comfortable enough in my manhood to risk expulsion from the Man Club and admit it. And you know what? It was excellent!)

** Teaching & training Martial Arts (Korean Tang Soo Do, 3rd degree Black Belt; American Kenpo Karate, 1st degree Black Belt; CDT, Tactical Master Instructor; experience, but no official rank in Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, capoeira, Aikido, judo. Training was eye-opening and made me look at myself in a whole new light. Teaching was the most profoundly life changing experience of my life. )

** Meditation (various forms, but with a heavy emphasis on mindfulness; probably the best thing I ever did to maintain my sanity in the midst of chaos)

** Spider-Man (movies, comics, cartoons, the whole shooting match ... since I was a kid)

** The scent of Sandalwood (soothing, relaxing, clean, and exotic)

** Coffee (flavored isn't bad, but I prefer plain, unflavored brews from all over the world)

** Beer (Guinness is my all-time favorite {God is a Guinness drinker, so I've been told} and microbrews and regional varieties over mass-produced swill like Budweiser or -- worst of the worst -- Coor's Light)

** Autumn (As much as I like summer, I think I'm more of a Spring and Fall kinda guy. I love the change of seasons, the crunch of dried leaves underfoot, and the slight hint of woodsmoke on the crisp October air. For the absolute best description of why I love Fall, I refer you to the prologue of Ray Bradbury's amazing classic novel, "Something Wicked This Way Comes.")

** Nature photography (I don't have the time for this I once did, but when I was younger I was quite prolific. I sold several compositions but was never in it for the money. It was a way of connecting with the natural world.)

** Pumpkin pie (Homemade is best, of course, but I will eat any kind I can get my hands on ... even Tastykake!)

** Creme brulee (my favorite dessert ever ... want me to do something -- anything -- for you? All you have to do is ply me with this!)

** Crisp, freshly ironed white dress shirts (especially with jeans or khakis)

** Khaki pants with lots of pockets

** Halloween (Maybe it's the time of the year, but this holiday -- and particularly its history -- has always held a creepy appeal to me)

** Fresh sheets (nothing like 'em ... cool cotton on a summer's night and warm flannel in the winter)

** Candles

** Being a student (one of the greatest joys in life is learning. I once heard advice that said, "Do not go to bed tonight as stupid as you were when you woke up this morning." Those words have had a profound effect on me and even at my age I find school to be, for the most part, an exhilarating experience)

** Rum (most varieties, but I am especially partial to the darker West Indian, Puerto Rican, and Barbados overproofs)

** Spiders (I have two tarantulas -- a Chilean Rose Hair and a Brazilian Chocolate -- & I'm working on a third)

** Sleeping with the windows open in the Fall (the early Fall ... not like the ridiculous, arctic weather we're having now)

** Facebook

** Blogging (There is freedom in this medium)

** Reading (Just about any genre. Favorite authors: Stephen King; Terry Brooks, The Shannara series of fantasy novels; , Nicholas Evans, The Horse Whisperer and others, Nicholas Sparks {yes, I am truly a sap}; Andrew Marks, Falling Bodies, Micheal Grant Jaffe, Dance Real Slow; Ben Sherwood, The Man Who Ate the 747 ... and so many more ...)

** Movies of all kinds (see my profile for exactly how wide the range)

** Shaving (no really ... I find it to be very soothing and it relaxes me, almost like meditation)

** The sound and smell of laundry in the dryer (call me crazy but there is something very relaxing and "homey" about this)

** Wicker furniture (even I don't know where this one came from)

** Walking in the evening (especially on a warm summer night down by the lake or down my road)

** UFC & WEC (I don't watch sports as a general rule, but I cannot get enough of Ultimate Fighting Championship and World Extreme Cagefighting)

** Travel (anywhere from down the street to a foreign land ... I like meeting new people, seeing new places and learning the history of both ... I have a long list of places I want to visit)

** Stargazing (I don't do it now as often as I did when I was younger, but I still take time when I get home from work to look up at the night sky and marvel at the vastness. There is nothing like a dark night full of stars to put one's problems into their proper perspective)

** Chuck Norris (the Martial Arts connection aside, and ignoring all the tongue-in-cheek "Chuck Norris Facts" that are found on the Internet, the man is a personal hero of mine for his efforts to educate at-risk children, and for the adversity that he overcame early in his life. He is a living embodiment of what it means to not only wear a Black Belt but to BE a Black Belt; in many ways I aspire to the example he has set)

** Ghosts (I am endlessly fascinated by books, movies, and documentaries centering on the supernatural and paranormal. Is it real? I have no idea, but it certainly does make one wonder about what exactly we don't know about our world)

So there ya go ... almost everything you NEVER wanted to know about me, but never thought to ask. I'm sure I have forgotten a few things, -- and for that I apologize -- but as I said it's really late and my brain is fried. If any of you who know me can add anything to the list, feel free; I'd definitely love to know your opinions.