Strength, Courage & Transformation

Someone once told me spiritual energies are heightened toward the end of the year. The statement caused me to wonder why that might be? If I am to believe this phenomenon, I couldn’t imagine why our sense of spirituality might be more pronounced in December than in April. Still, year-after-year I wondered, with the question resurfacing in my head somewhere between Halloween and Thanksgiving. And certainly, if there were any truth to the idea, perhaps it explained the choice of December 25^th as the day to celebrate Christmas. This is not believed to be the actual birth date of Jesus Christ, yet it was picked as the time to celebrate his appearance in our lives. If it is an arbitrary date, might it have been chosen to correspond with a period of time in which we are most spiritually receptive?

For at least five years, I have thought of these concepts every holiday season. Most of the time, I was skeptical, suspecting more than anything else that it was just marketing. In October, the Halloween frenzy begins with children’s costumes and unheard of quantities of candy being bought and sold. In November, Thanksgiving appears and turkeys across the land meet their untimely demise. And then Christmas and New Year’s roll around to top it all off. This year, I have paid attention and the answer to my question appeared to me in nature. Yes, spiritual energies are heightened at the end of each year, and it has nothing to do with marketing (except that marketers have been brilliant to take advantage of buyers when they are vulnerable).

Oftentimes, we enjoy viewing ourselves as masters of our destiny, but this is not entirely true. Without exception, we are born into nature as puzzle pieces. To see ourselves as living outside of this system is not only a disservice, it is a denial of reality. Each winter, adjustments are made all around us. Birds fly south. Bears retreat into seclusion to hibernate in their own form of silent meditation. Trees shed their leaves stripping down to their barest of essentials. In places of bitter cold, snow blankets the land and ice covers the water and all of this is in preparation for rebirth. When the period is over, the birds return to lay eggs and raise their young. Bears emerge from their caves as if being re-delivered from the womb and trees and plants reinvent themselves with completely new configurations of flowers and leaves. All of the above are physical queues to remind us of our own spiritual evolution.

At the end of the year, if we are to grow and evolve, we must do as nature does, stripping down to the barest essentials of who we are spiritually. This is not easy work, but it is the right time to ponder and reflect on who we are and how we wish to be. Once we’ve crossed through the bridge of winter, we can re-emerge on the other side, reinvented with new leaves and flowers of who we are. And while each of us is capable of metamorphosis at any given place or time, we are more naturally predisposed (there goes nature again) to it at year-end when spiritual energies are heightened.

This year, as 2010 is ushered in, I’d like to wish all of you the happiest of new years and may your metamorphosis be one that brings you ever closer to your centers. Peace and blessings to you all!

When What You See Isn't What You Get

Last night I stopped at Starbuck’s to do a little writing. A few minutes after my arrival, two women entered and sat at a table beside me. To my dismay, one of them was loud, animated and distracting. She immediately began talking about something she had seen on television the night before. Apparently, some Victoria Secret model did an interview and talked about being deeply spiritual. This woman was openly outraged by the idea of a spiritual lingerie model. At one point, she described a split screen segment where the model was discussing spirituality on one side of the screen, and on the other there was footage of her scantily clad on the catwalk. The loud talking woman continued to explain that she didn’t believe you could truly be spiritual when you chose to parade around in front of people in various states of undress. She was so put off, in fact, that she was making it known to everyone around her. I quietly frowned, partly because I didn’t agree with her assessment, but also because I would have preferred she lower her voice so as not to make a spectacle of herself.

At that point, the story got even more interesting. A few minutes after they finished judging the Victoria Secret model, the same woman began discussing her own relationship and how she was trying to work through the fact that her significant other had a sex addiction problem. I have no idea which model she was speaking of, but the first thought that entered my mind was this: here this woman has judged and practically damned this model to hell, but when she moved to discuss her own life, it already seemed seedier than walking down the runway in a camisole. And although I like to think of myself as more open and accepting than this woman seemed to be, I know, like many, I am guilty of judging people I know very little about.

FINDING YOUR CENTER

Earlier this year, I attended a silent meditation retreat, where for nine days I ate, slept and meditated beside people I had never met. Nevertheless, I began to form opinions on them. There was a gentleman whose meditation mat was directly in front of mine in the meditation hall. For the most part, he was average in almost every way, but there was something about him that just screamed “family man.” I was certain he was married with a couple of kids, and that he was probably a good husband and father. And then seated behind me, there was a younger guy who seemed more like a film star. He was extremely handsome and athletic looking and there was an arrogance about him. I saw him more as the macho jock, and keep in mind, this was a silent retreat. I made all of these determinations without having spoken a word to either of these people.

On day four of the retreat, we were asked for the first time to assume our meditation posture and to hold it for an hour without moving or opening our eyes. Needless to say, this is very difficult. To hold the same posture for an hour is at best uncomfortable, and at worst very painful. The first time we did this, I could hear the movie star meditator squirming behind me. He was experiencing discomfort and in the last ten minutes of that hour, he actually began to sob. I remember thinking what kind of jock is this? But the truth was I had judged him with no true foundation to do so.

On the retreat’s final day, the silence was lifted and we were allowed to speak. This was a fascinating day to behold. Everyone raced around introducing themselves and comparing experiences about what had been a truly challenging endeavor. It was also a wonderful social experiment. Finally, I could get a glimpse of whether or not I had had accurate impressions of people. The family man, as it turned out, was gay, which I didn’t see coming at all. And the macho jock was in fact a circus performer with none of the bravado that you might expect from a jock.

AND THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS...
Needless to say, it became very clear why it isn’t a good idea to judge people. Outside appearances often have nothing to do with what people are feeling inside. Someone who is an avid churchgoer can easily have selfishness and deceit in their heart. And lingerie models are capable of respect and spirituality toward others. The irony of my day at Starbuck’s was not lost on me. That woman had judged the Victoria Secret model and I had judged her. I had to check myself because regardless of how that woman appeared, I had no way of truly knowing the reality of her spirit. At the end of the day, all of us are writers. We look at something and even though we don’t see the whole picture, we begin creating stories to fill in the blanks. Oftentimes, this is fun to do, but we should always keep in mind the differences between fact and fiction.

I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK! TO LEARN MORE OR TO READ AN EXCERPT
of my sci-fi/fantasy/adventure novel, “The Unveiling: 1.0,” please visit TheUnveilingSeries.com.

Dress Rehearsal of Life

Now that I live in the southeast, I have been able to observe the change of seasons. This fall I have reveled in the utter beauty of the trees and the grace with which they begin their striptease. Once they’ve completed the slow conversion of their leaves from greens to brilliant shades of yellows, oranges, burgundies and browns, they slowly, deliberately begin removing their summer-spring coats with the help of fall breezes.

A couple of weeks ago, I set out to jog on a familiar track and was mesmerized when an urgent breeze began plucking leaves from nearby trees. It felt like nature’s New Year’s Eve as a confetti of multi-colored leaves rained down around me. I paused to enjoy the wind caressing my face and to watch the leaves cascading through the air until they gently seesawed to the ground. And in that moment of beauty, I realized that each year, we are made witness to the following dress rehearsal of life:

In Spring, we are given examples of rebirth and revitalization. The grass returns, and flowers bloom. Trees cover themselves in leaves and return to looking vibrant and plush. Fruits begin to grow weighing down parental branches and life is made clear to us in obvious, obvious ways. It is nature in its infancy.

In Summer, abundance is apparent. Warm breezes and sunshine caress us all as the cycle of life continues. Nature in its adolescence and young adulthood delivers the best of its creative forces. The first batches of fruits are replaced by ones of more extreme succulence. The first flowers, having completed their dress rehearsals, are now replaced by more experienced ones with aromas and colors that are ultimately more pronounced. As nature’s adulthood completes its final maturity, Summer comes to a close.

In Fall, vibrance and youth begin to ebb as flowers and trees lose their luster. Fullness and fruitfulness are lost as the twilight of nature’s life cycle begins. It is nature’s way of describing old age. All that is vital begins to whither and the beginning of the end becomes painfully apparent.

And finally, in Winter, nature plays its final act. Trees assume their final resemblance to skeletal remains. Any leaf that has tried desperately to cling is torn away, withered and old. The ability to visualize blossoms or fruit is lost and spring-summer grass browns into a veritable astro-turf. And so nature completes its dress rehearsal with winter’s death as the final act. That is until it all begins again with the return of Spring.

As soon as we re-establish our connection to these cycles, we can resume our rightful roles in nature. It is only through our futile attempts to circumvent these cycles, that we are plunged into confusion and misunderstanding as to how we fit into it all. So many of us refuse to acknowledge that we, who are a part of nature, will eventually lose our luster, wither and then die. Oftentimes, we would like for Summer and Spring to repeat indefinitely, but alas, this is not to be.

Whatever you do, be true to yourselves and pay close attention to what is being shown to you day after day. With all of the rehearsals we are shown, we should be amply prepared to play each cycle of our live's roles with excellence.

Thanks for Nothing!

Each year around this time, feelings of resentment and animosity arise in me. I know these are not festive feelings, but their arrival is sometimes beyond my control. Consider how it feels to learn that a trusted friend has been dishonest with you and then you’ll understand the source of my Thanksgiving Day chagrin.

Since childhood, my family has celebrated Thanksgiving with a traditional turkey dinner. Each year, either our kitchen [or the kitchen of whoever was hosting] would explode with everything from turkey, ham, roast beef and chicken to greens, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, ambrosia and much, much more. Each feast was a veritable exercise in gluttony and excess. Even when the guests departed with “to go” plates, we would still find ourselves with several days of leftovers in the refrigerator. Because Thanksgiving was tradition, I rarely questioned the origins of the holiday. It wasn’t until much later in my life that I began learning about the pilgrims and how the Native American had helped them when they were suffering through their first winter. The pilgrims were so thankful, they created a holiday of remembrance to celebrate what they’d received during an intense time of need.

But surely there must have been a better way to thank the Native Americans. Perhaps the pilgrims could have thanked them by not stealing their land. Or maybe it would have been nice had they not disparaged their beliefs, thinking it fit to force a completely foreign “self-serving” belief system upon them. In fact, I think most of us would agree that a “thank you” should be designed to show appreciation for the party who was helpful and not for the one who was helped.

Fast-forward to present day, and the current state of the Native American Nation is quite dismal. The survivors, who are quite few, are often relegated to reservations where poverty and alcoholism are rampant. And even though the American government has seen it fit to make amends by offering free education and by allowing tribes to profit from gambling, neither of these has shown an impact by bringing about any kind of resurgence in Native American communities.

It is sad how many examples there are of cruelty and barbarism in the world, but for me, what makes it even more disturbing is our refusal to acknowledge and accept the realities of such history. President Lincoln didn’t awake with the epiphany of slavery’s inhumanity and then decide to abolish it as it was (is?) taught in elementary school. And the mere concept of Thanksgiving as it is recounted is disingenuous if not ludicrous. I, too, find some of these atrocities difficult to digest, but it doesn’t suffice to simply revise history into a nice package with a bow on top. Even when the truth hurts, it is preferable to lies and deceit.

Years ago, I made a pact with myself to acknowledge Thanksgiving, not for the pilgrims’ successes, but as a time to be thankful for all of life’s blessings. I am thankful for my mother who was never anything but loving and supportive. I am thankful for my father who taught me many of life’s valuable lessons. And I am thankful for my extended family of relatives and friends who have shown me affection and support throughout many trials and difficult times. With this said, I also believe it is incumbent upon all of us to acknowledge the truths of our history, even when they aren’t pretty, and to understand how to move forward in ways of kinder wisdom.

Happy Thanksgiving! May all of you find blessings in truth, kindness and compassion.

Your Most Valuable Contribution

If each of us carried an attaché case with our most valuable contribution inside, what would you wish to be held within yours? Briefly ponder an answer to the question, “Inside of my case is contained ____.”

Over this last year I have learned a tremendous amount about energy, so much in fact that it has astonished me how little we pay attention to our own energy imprints. I’m sure all of us have experienced that uncomfortable feeling of noticing we’re being stared at, or perhaps we have stared only to have the object of our attention become aware and then turn to face us. It is the presence of energy that makes this phenomenon possible. Every action we perform brings a specific kind of energy to the table and more often that not that energy is perceptible if we only we are willing to pay attention to it. And don’t forget at the end of the day, we are all varying forms of energy anyway, made up of protons and electrons alike. And each of us can choose how we’d like our energy to impact the world, whether it’s with a positive, negative or neutral effect. With that said, I believe our most valuable contribution has everything to do with the energy we bring into existence.

But here’s the tricky thing about energy. Scientific methods dictate that negative charges will attract positive ones, which is how magnetism works with negatively charged electrons becoming attracted to positively charged protons. These scientific principles have been proven, but they do not apply when it comes to personal energy. The energy that we spin into existence instead adheres to spiritual principles, which in fact behave according to the opposite rule that like energies will attract one another. If someone creates positive energy by doing something nice, we are likely to be pleased and will respond with niceties and positivity ourselves. In this sense, positive energy attracts positive energy.

At the same time, if we are confronted with negative energy, we are likely to respond in kind. For example when someone cuts us off in traffic, negative energy is generated. I’m sure most of us can relate to the energy we often respond with when this happens. I have many times honked, cursed and waved obscene gestures at the offending drivers. So, again, negative energy attracts equally negative responses. These are principles that enable mob mentality to occur. When intense negative energy is generated, a snowball effect begins with the potential of everyone around being sucked in. It takes a strong, self-aware individual to combat the contagious nature of negative energy.

These are the same rules that explain karmic principles. If we choose to carry negative energy in our attaché cases then we can expect to attract negative energy into our lives. Should we instead decide it is positive energy that we choose to bring forth, positive energy will also be attracted into our lives, or in other words, what goes around comes around.

So now is the time to share just what did you choose for you case?

I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK! TO LEARN MORE OR TO READ AN EXCERPT
of my sci-fi/fantasy/adventure novel, “The Unveiling: 1.0,” please visit TheUnveilingSeries.com.

To Tell the Blurry Truth

More than ever, our powers of observation are in need of fine-tuning. We must all equip ourselves with uncanny abilities to discern and differentiate between what is real and what is fiction.

Last week I went to see “The Fourth Kind,” a movie, which purports to be based on true accounts of alien abductions in Nome, Alaska. In the movie, the audience is shown dramatized reenactments of what is supposed to be true footage of abductees undergoing hypnotherapy. Although it is by no means a great film, the hypnosis sessions were sometimes compelling as the patients were videotaped completely recalling their utter horror having suffered through close encounters of the fourth kind. The movie uses an interesting device where the original “true footage” is at times intercut into the film and is sometimes even juxtaposed beside the dramatizations (which was mostly distracting).

So, here’s the thing, as is it so happened, I was slightly tardy in making it to the theater. For this reason I entered just after the start of the movie. The woman who was on screen when I walked in wore slightly too much makeup and her hair was perhaps a little too unkempt. It was clear to me that the “hair and makeup” department had gotten this wrong when they were shooting the film. As the movie continued, I realized this woman was being sold as the actual doctor in the true story. In theory, this was supposedly raw “documentary” footage. For the rest of the movie, I kept studying this woman’s face trying to figure out if a real woman would ever style her hair or apply her makeup in such a fashion. And the answer I kept coming up with is no.

And this brings me to today’s question. Are we better or worse off if the lines between fact and fiction are continually blurred? From a creative standpoint, it is actually quite interesting to think of new ways to impress, shock and fool your audience. But the audience (and that’s us, folks) must then be tasked with the ability to discern the difference between truth or fiction.

A few years ago, I read a book whose title I won’t mention, but the author claimed the story was fictionalized. I am still fuzzy on exactly what this means. Is fictionalized a way of saying based on fact, but beefed up with fiction? In any event, the entertainment world is eagerly selling improvised and/or scripted as reality with the end result that the two genres are now imitating each other and neither seems entirely authentic.

In case you didn’t know, in scripted entertainment, whether it’s television or film, the production process first requires a written script before any footage is shot. In reality entertainment, it is the opposite where footage is filmed at the beginning and then later the writers sift through it to figure out where the story is. But even these techniques have been modified. In Larry David’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” a story outline is delivered instead of a script. The players know what the story is, but they improvise their lines. At the same time, movies like “Paranormal Activity” and “The Fourth Kind” are written to have a “reality” feel to them, but the truth is they are scripted. Personally, I like to think of it as practice. The more these lines are blurred, the easier it will become for us to tell the difference, not only in entertainment, but also in our everyday lives.

A Mind of My Own

What is Groupthink?

Wikipedia describes it as “a type of thought exhibited by group members who try to minimize conflict and reach consensus without critically testing, analyzing, and evaluating ideas. Individual creativity, uniqueness, and independent thinking are lost in the pursuit of group cohesiveness... During Groupthink, members of the group avoid promoting viewpoints outside the comfort zone of consensus thinking...

Groupthink may cause groups to make hasty, irrational decisions, where individual doubts are set aside, for fear of upsetting the group’s balance.”

The question I am posing is how guilty are we of Groupthink? Many of us feel or suspect that we are critical and independent thinkers because we come from free and democratic societies, but is this really the case? George Orwell’s “1984” explored the ideas of Groupthink, but I fear very few of us realize just how much we participate in it.

Here’s one place I see Groupthink at work -- pharmaceutical drugs. Each time I see a commercial I am reminded of Groupthink’s effectiveness. Through its use, big pharmaceutical companies have gained our acceptance for the most absurd of drug treatments. Each time I spot a drug commercial, I shake my head wondering how a “treatment” with such drastically dangerous side effects could be approved. For example, there is:

Symbicort – The first commercial I noticed for this drug offended me. It featured the “silhouette” of a woman walking around explaining the drug’s benefits. My reaction to the campaign was that the pharmaceutical companies were laughing at us, wondering just how ridiculous they could become and still have us accept the product. In my opinion, they were too embarrassed to put an actual face to the voice explaining the drug’s “benefits.”

Symbicort is used to treat asthma, but get this... It may increase the risk of asthma-related death. WHAT?! So, it may contribute to death from the condition that it is supposed to treat? Interesting. A few other side effects include headaches, throat pain, and upper respiratory tract infection. Of course these are all things that an asthma patient hopes for when seeking relief from the condition.

Pristiq is used to treat depression, but it can cause any of the following side effects: Bizarre behavior, hallucinations, worsening of depression, suicidal thoughts or ATTEMPTS!!! WHAT?!

So, should I become depressed and go to my doctor for help, I may be given a drug that will make me more depressed or even suicidal? Interesting, yet, somehow this market continues to thrive with doctors pushing these treatments on us.

As if that were not enough, Pristiq has an extremely long list of other side effects, which I will not completely list for fear of boring you. A few of them however are: hives, itching, difficulty breathing, tightness in the chest, swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue; blood in the stools, chest pain, fainting, fast or irregular heartbeat and many, many more.

I could continue listing big pharmaceutical drugs that have numerous, unpleasant side effects, but it would just be more of the same. In fact many of these treatments require other drugs to manage their side effects. During my own cancer treatment, it was recommended that I take a daily injection to reduce the effects of radiation. But there was a catch because the injections caused nausea. I was then prescribed an anti-nausea medication even though my doctors denied my request for medical marijuana. I am sure this is another area where the big pharmaceutical companies are having a laugh. In economics, we would call this a multiplier because the sale of one drug leads to increased sales of another.

And why do we accept these preposterous prescriptions? A few months ago, I was discussing exactly this topic with one of my best friends, who is actually a bright and independent thinker. His response to me was “yes, some people are injured by these drugs, but isn’t it worth the collateral damage if the majority of people are helped by them?” This is precisely how Groupthink works. Collectively, we accept what is offered even though the absurdity of it is pointed out to us every day (in the fine print). And once a practice gains acceptance by the group, it then becomes unorthodox to question it. The hypothesis of Groupthink is the following: If everyone else accepts it, then it must be true.

To this reality I say no, there must be a better way. What about treatments that improve, or even cure a condition? Although we are led to think there are few to none, they do exist.

But before we can expect better, we have to cure one of our biggest illnesses, which is Groupthink itself.

Wanna See Something Really Scary?

I will never forget, when I was about nineteen, my mother said, “tomatoes don’t taste like tomatoes anymore.” I was perplexed by this comment. If tomatoes didn’t taste like tomatoes, then what did they taste like? To which my mother answered, “they don’t really have any taste.”

Sadly, it would be several years before I fully understood the impact of my mother’s comment. The truth was, even though I had been on the planet for nearly two decades, I had never really tasted a tomato and therefore I had no idea what it was my mother remembered. In fact, my most poignant tomato story was roughly five years ago at an Italian restaurant in West L.A. The owner came to our table and lectured us on the many varieties of tomatoes – different colors, flavors and sweetnesses. He spoke of his personal gardens and clarified that he grew all of the tomatoes on the menu.

Fast-forwarding to this past August, I flew to L.A. for just under two weeks. Shortly before my departure, one of my aunts had paid me a visit from Trinidad. She was traveling around the U.S. for the entire summer visiting both family and friends. Just before her Atlanta arrival, she had been in Maryland visiting another set of relatives who happen to have an organic garden. Our Maryland cousins sent my aunt with several bags of produce. I was pleased to see among other things tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and yellow squash. Although we tried, we were unable to eat everything before the both of us departed. As I locked up my house, I didn’t realize the experiment that was about to take place. In addition to the organic vegetables in my refrigerator, there were also what are now known as “conventional vegetables.” These where purchases I had made at the grocery store even before my aunt’s arrival. Conventional vegetables are not organic and are sometimes dyed, waxed and/or irradiated to preserve freshness. Most of the large grocery store chains are filled with conventional vegetables although they are catching on and now have organic corners where organic produce is displayed.

On day 12, when I returned from L.A., I opened my refrigerator and was stunned by what I saw. There were two organic cucumbers and one organic yellow squash. The organic cucumbers had shriveled to one-third of their original size and they were covered in mold. It appeared as if they had festering sores as liquid oozed from them. And the organic yellow squash was not much better. But it was fascinating to compare these pieces to the conventional yellow squash that looked as if I had just bought it a few days before. It was still a shiny, rich, yellow color and it appeared to be exactly the same size that it was when I left. And don’t forget I had bought it even before my aunt’s arrival. It had surely been in my refrigerator for more than three weeks. In my haste to clean out my refrigerator, I dashed the rotten organic vegetables in the trash. Again, I apologize for not photographing them first to share how marked a difference there was with you.

But here’s the problem I have with how things turned out. Remember whether it’s for decomposition or digestion, bacteria is what causes food to break down. Conventional produce has been tinkered with in many different ways to prevent it from breaking down. Even after weeks in the refrigerator, conventional produce will look brand new. And the chains of distribution that we use like this because it gives them extra time to get the produce on the shelves. In fact, millions of dollars are spent on pesticides and genetic engineering as well as on irradiation, waxing and dyes. But I still ask a question I find quite logical. If all of this processing prevents it from breaking down in the environment, does it also prevent the bacterial breakdown necessary for digestion? Think of that as food for thought.

Given what I know now I try to buy exclusively organic produce, but this is not always possible as conventional produce still represents the majority of what’s in the marketplace.

In the spirit of the Halloween season, I say to you “Caveat Emptor” or buyer beware. Just as we disguise ourselves as something we are not, foods are being presented to us that are not quite what they seem. A few weeks ago, I arrived in a store that normally carries organic avocados, but this day there were only conventional ones. The avocado pictured is a conventional one that seemed to be ripening quite well, but when I cut it open, it appeared to be rotting from the inside out. With conventional avocados I have found this phenomenon on several occasions, which is why I try to avoid them. Perhaps it relates to the same root cause of why conventional tomatoes have no taste. In any event, it is only recently that I have begun to understand the value of fresh, organic food in terms of the taste and the energy that it supplies. And I hope none of your produce purchases are Jack O’lanterns when you bring them home.

Will The Real Nene Leakes Please Stand Up

Most everyone is familiar with “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson. In Stevenson’s story, Dr. Jekyll is a kinder, mild-mannered character who actually transforms from use of a laboratory elixir into his darker alter-ego, Mr. Hyde. The story truly explores good and evil as aspects of human nature. And even though the book is now over 120 years old, its title is still used to describe instances of extreme mood swings. The reason I believe this story has resonated so strongly is because it continues to describe the struggle within all of us -- the struggle of our spirits against our egos.

Our spiritual sides are where good can be found. It is because of our spirits that we seek to offer love and compassion. And our spiritual compasses point us in the direction of what is right and good. And within all of us resides an ego from which our selfishness arises. It is because of our egos that we seek to withhold from others and to hoard for ourselves. And for most of us, the battle between ego and spirit is constant and unrelenting, which brings me to the topic of today’s post. Is there a Mr. Hyde in all of us?

Last week, I watched the season two finale of the Real Housewives of Atlanta (RHOA). This past season brought to mind a question I had asked years ago while working on “Soul Food: the series.” It was my first time transitioning from corporate America into the world of TV production, and I was somewhat stunned by the awful examples of human behavior I was made privy to. On several occasions, I witnessed grown people throwing tantrums for the most ridiculous of things, whether it was condiments, wanted or unwanted on their sandwiches or that someone had parked in the wrong spot. I have seen or heard it all, from managers using extreme profanities to curse out their assistants and/or colleagues, to coworkers having knock down brawls over how a birthday cake was served.

One of my biggest resources while on the show was a woman in the production office at Paramount Pictures. Her duties were to support all of Paramount’s TV shows, which meant her experience was quite vast. I knew such a position was very stressful, but she always resolved issues with dignity and poise. As such I thought her wise enough to answer the following question:

“Are monster personalities attracted to the entertainment industry or are they created by it?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer, which was “I believe people come to the industry as they are.” In other words, the seeds of awful behavior had always been there, but the ego-driven entertainment industry was fertile soil in which those seeds could grow. For many, but not all, success in the entertainment industry was the elixir that transformed them from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.

Nene Leakes of the RHOA caused this question to resurface in my mind. In the show’s first season, she was the personality who seemed the most real. It felt as if she spoke the truth even when that made her seem unpopular. From all accounts, she became the media favorite of the show. When the series returned for a second season, Nene had a new haircut, a new address and a new attitude. Even her walk had changed into a slick person’s stroll. She strutted around as if she were a contestant on America’s Next Top Model. It soon became clear that Mrs. Leakes had no idea what had made her popular in the show’s first season. Somehow it seemed she had caught word of who the show represented her to be and she was out there trying to live up to the persona. The Dr. Jekyll that Nene was in the first season had transformed into Mr. Hyde for the show’s return.

In the second season, she ran from episode to episode telling folks what she thought of them, but it all seemed false and somewhat contrived. Her appeal as the person who spoke the truth had vanished. And now that I reside in Atlanta, I have heard Mrs. Leakes on local radio stations where she represents herself as the “Realest Housewife of Atlanta.”

While it is disappointing to discover someone is not who you thought they were, I hold no ill-will toward people like Nene. The truth of who the real Nene is shines apparent. Nene (or Linnethia) is still that young girl who was betrayed by her mother and father who had both deceived her about the identity of her true father. To this day, Nene is searching for the validation that her parents should have given her. Hopefully, the players on these reality shows will have the opportunity to see themselves and to grow spiritually rather than egotistically. Not all of us are fortunate enough to be able to observe our own lives as if we were outsiders. But the question that we all have to ask ourselves is “What will it be today – Jekyll or Hyde?”

Invasion of the Fun Snatchers

Does anyone feel like the excitement has been taken out of things? Yesterday, I walked to my mailbox and I can’t describe the disappointment I felt when I opened it to find two stacks of mailers. It was coupons and promotions for just about everything you can imagine from carpet cleaning, window replacements, tires, pizzerias and so on. I thought of the numerous stacks of paper that go directly from my mailbox to the trashcan. This can’t be an environmentally safe practice, can it?

As I walked back to the house, I remembered my childhood. I used to truly be excited about the mail. Each time I arrived home from school, if the mail hadn’t been checked, I would race out to see what was in the box. Somehow, it felt vaguely like Christmas not knowing what was going to be delivered that day. Even if there was nothing for me, I would shuffle through each envelope, excited just to see what was there. I also remember my first pen pal, which was organized by the school I was attending at the time. Once we began corresponding, it left me with a certain anticipation. After I had mailed a letter, I would anxiously await a response, diligently checking the mail until I received one.

Today, the fun and excitement I used to feel has completely disappeared. My mailbox seems to be a marketing tool, more useful to direct mailers than it is to me. Now when I check the mail, I pray the box is empty. In a year of deliveries, probably sixty percent of it is junk -- coupons and mailers that I have never used. And when I say never, I mean exactly that. I have no memory of having ever used a coupon or a promotion that was sent to my house. Still, each week I throw out stacks and stacks of improperly used paper. In addition to the junk I receive, I probably have about thirty-five percent of my mail, which is bills or someone asking for money. And then in the remaining five percent, perhaps half is desired correspondence, just as it used to be in the good old days. I’m talking birthday cards, Christmas cards, or an occasional letter. But still, the thrill of receiving mail is gone, lost to the commercialization of direct marketing.

Last month, while in New York, some friends and I went out for a Friday night on the town. One of our stops was 230 5th Avenue, which features a rooftop bar with a fantastic view. As we arrived, there was a small line to enter. When we got to the front of the queue, the trendily dressed doorman asked if we were on *The List.* I immediately smiled because I knew what this meant. My friend Alessandro (who hails from Milan, Italy) answered “no” and confirmed that we weren’t on any list. The doorman proceeded to explain that it was customary for people who weren’t on the list to purchase a bottle of champagne for a mere $250. But because we were *nice,* we would only be asked to pay $125 for the four of us. What a bargain I thought, but not one I felt inclined to pay for.

By now, Alessandro was miffed. He had been to this bar several times and had never been asked to purchase champagne. He turned to his wife, Deborah (also Italian) and began discussing whether or not we should pay in their native tongue. The doorman’s boss, an older Mafioso looking gentleman, immediately changed his posture when he heard native Italian speakers. With a wave of his hand, we were rushed into the building with no further talk of champagne.

But for me, the fun had already been ruined. All of us would have been amenable to paying a reasonable cover charge for the privilege of buying expensive alcohol on the roof of this building. But instead a foolish game had been played. The entire conversation felt like junk mail in the box. I remembered what fun it had been in the good old days when I entered a club, but this time it was more nostalgia that I felt than anything else. I longed for the old excitement that I used to share, that anticipation of something good to come. After leaving 230 5th Avenue, all of us boogied down to the Beauty Bar [see photo] where no champagne was required. It was interesting to learn that Beauty Bar was actually a hair and nail salon by day, and a bar and dance club by night.

The time has come for a shift in focus. For centuries, the goal has been “How do we make money,” which explains why I have stacks of coupons and promotions in my mailbox, which explains why if I’m not deemed “trendy” enough, attempts are made to dupe me into buying $250 bottles of champagne. But the truth of the matter is all of it is just junk and the junk takes the fun out of it.

Power Positioning

Just over five years ago, I began attending the Self Realization Fellowship (SRF) in Hollywood, California. It is a non-denominational church that marries Eastern and Western teachings on the taming of the ego and how to obtain happiness. The deeper I delved into these studies, the more I realized what a problem we have with the types of leadership we are faced with in the world.

A fully enlightened man (or woman) has by definition tamed his or her ego. Our egos almost always [mis] lead us into selfish decision-making. In movies, we have all seen the inner thoughts of a character portrayed as a tiny devil on one shoulder, and a miniature angel on the other, each trying to convince the character in question of their point of view. This devil is most definitely the ego telling us nothing really matters unless “we’re” getting something out of it. As one of my friends used to say, “If you ain’t gettin’ yours it ain’t worth it!” This is of course the ego jockeying for position.

So here is where the problem arises. The enlightened man, devoid of a dominating ego, hungers to be of service, but has no desire to be a leader. He understands the seeds of wisdom only grow in a fertile mind. While he is eager to share in his wisdom, he has no desire to push his ideas on anyone. When the lines between right and wrong grow blurry and undefined, the enlightened man has the power in his arsenal of the most efficient spiritual compass. Even in storms of confusion and adversity, he comprehends how to locate the correct path. This, as we all know, is often not so easy.

So who then are our current world leaders? Are they enlightened men who have tamed their egos, or are they men ruled by the tiny devils whispering in their ears? When money, power and status are most important, how then can you truly be of service? How can you share in your wisdom if you have none to share?

A while ago, I read a book of case studies on serial killer profiling. Yes, it was quite morbid, but also fascinating (research for a story I was working on). There was a striking phenomenon that occurred in several of the profiles. The profiler stated that the suspects would have tried unsuccessfully to become police officers. As I read further, it was explained that some police officers chose the career in order to exercise control over others. This is precisely what serial killers seek to do. In one of the profiles, the author, who had been a profiler himself, went as far as to say the killer would be driving a Chevy Caprice because it would give him the feeling of being in a police cruiser. And strangely enough, when they finally caught the suspect, he had bought an actual police car that was retired from service. He even left the signature spotlight on it that many police cruisers have. I found it shocking to learn that such heinous criminals sought work in law enforcement. But it’s the seduction of having control over others that pushes that type of personality to do so.

I fear there is a similar dynamic in politics. Not that our leaders are serial killers, but certainly many of them are drawn into politics because of money, status and power. There is no desire in their hearts to improve the world for others. Instead, their egos push them to seek positions that offer privilege and entitlement. For a man with an ego, the perception of having power over others is seductive.

How do we proceed when this dynamic exists? Our job is to scrutinize our leaders and hold them to strict standards of service. But before we can do that, we will need our own spiritual compasses to be finely tuned. If our perceptions of right and wrong are unclear, how then can we hold our leaders to any kind of standard?

Old Age or Just Plain Old Boring???

Earlier this year, I moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta. It was not a planned move, but a series of [unfortunate] circumstances arose that simply made relocating seem sensible. The truth was I had grown up in the environs of L.A. and, quite frankly, over the last decade, I had grown bored. I questioned the sense of boredom I felt. Events and functions that had once seemed thrilling now felt dull and uninteresting. Was it me? Maybe I had grown too old to appreciate the trappings of youth. Or perhaps it was the repetition of it all (which I suppose in some way is still a symptom of old age). Because I am a creature of habit when I find a coffee shop, bar or club that I like, I immediately become a loyalist. Part of me wondered if I had simply needed a geographical change to jumpstart my excitement. In any event, after learning that Atlanta was my next stop, it seemed I was about to find out. If it was simply a change of locale that I needed, I would soon know.

Shortly after my arrival in Atlanta, I had gotten semi-settled and determined it was time to go out exploring. One week, I ventured out on a Friday to sample in Atlanta’s nightlife. The following week, I would try a Saturday to see if the experience was any different. The truth is each outing was hit-or-miss. Some nights I arrived to find ten people standing around a cavernous nightclub. And once in a while, I arrived to venues that were completely packed. And the fact of the matter was it didn’t make a difference what I found when I ventured out. My boredom remained.

As I sought answers, I wondered whether alcohol was the determining factor. It had been several years since I stopped drinking. After receiving my cancer diagnosis, it seemed like the right thing to do. It’s sad to consider, but back in the days when going out seemed the most fun, it could have been a result of the alcohol. But what does that say about me? Can my life only be viewed as exciting when seen through an alcohol-filled haze? Nowadays when I enter a bar and the majority of the crowd is tipsy or drunk, it’s more distracting than it is fun.

But there was an alternative explanation for the phenomenon of boredom I felt. Maybe it wasn’t me and the magic that had made things exciting had lost its strength. Could the answer have been that easy and L.A. and Atlanta were simply boring? Although I hadn’t planned it this way, 2009 turned out to be a travel year for me. It was almost as if I had done a survey of cities, which included, among others, London, Paris, Barcelona, Edinburgh, Salzburg and most recently New York.

After nearly a year of questioning, pondering, and gathering information, I finally had an answer to my question. It is me. I now realize what is most fun for me is the establishment of emotional connections. Before, I was afraid to connect with people, fearful that they wouldn’t appreciate the true me if I dared to reveal myself. And this is why I believe people do drugs and alcohol. Our inhibitions are lowered, yet our senses are dulled. Previously, with drugs and alcohol, my fears dissipated, but I was also comforted by the idea that those around me weren’t paying as much attention. Not when we were all intoxicated.

Fastforwarding to present day, I am blessed to have an abundance of wonderful people in my life. People who reveal themselves to me in ways they don’t often do with others. Each city I visited, I learned new and exciting things about my friends. I spent hours sitting around, eating meals, drinking teas and talking. I learned wonderful things I didn’t know about people I already knew quite well. And I reciprocated in turn, revealing things about myself.

For me, a new way of having fun has emerged. It is a method of truth and honesty in which we reveal ourselves and remain open and accepting of the truth within others. I rejoice in the reality that many of my friends understand this and that deep and lasting connections continue.

The Learning Curve...

A few weeks ago, my wireless router began acting up. During each episode, I would have to unplug it and wait a few seconds before restarting. Although the on-off procedure seemed to resolve the problem each time, I knew the router was on its last leg. About two days ago, it died. Because I had recently started with a new Internet service, I wanted to make sure it was my router before I purchased a new one. I plugged the connector cable directly into my computer, which should have supplied working service, but it didn’t. This made me suspect it wasn’t my router. Just to be sure, I decided to try tech support and see if they could talk me through it.

Now, I know profiling is not a nice thing, especially since it’s casting judgment even when there is little-to-no information available to truly judge. Nevertheless, as soon as the tech support person answered, I knew I was in trouble. The woman sounded reasonably intelligent, but I didn’t feel confident in her ability to resolve a hi-tech problem (which actually wasn’t all that hi-tech). As she began to ask questions and give answers, I immediately became convinced I was right. I have always found tech savvy people are like great films. My mom always said you can tell if a movie is going to be good in the first five minutes. The same is true when dealing with tech support. If in that first five minutes, there is not a feeling a confidence instilled, then it is probably a better idea to hang up and call back. Just like playing a slot machine, it really is the luck of the draw.

After spending roughly forty minutes on the phone with this woman, she gave up and said she would be unable to resolve my issue. She explained that a technician would have to visit the house for me to get resolution. Trying not to get too frustrated, I scheduled an appointment for the following morning. I was told the tech would arrive between 8am and noon. No sooner than I had hung up, a friend called. I explained that I had just wasted 40 minutes of my morning dealing with a tech that I had suspected couldn’t help in the first place. My friend said he had unfortunately dealt with hours of tech support and that maybe he could help with the knowledge of how his own problems had been resolved. After less than five minutes on the phone with him, I had restored my Internet service (although I still need a router to continue with wifi). And the defining moment was when my friend mentioned that Macs usually walk you through what you need to do. I launched the Mac assistant and in less than ten clicks, I was once again online.

Now, this brings me to the true purpose of today’s posting. Have we completely lost our respect for education in this country? It seems we have made education more and more expensive, but the payoff has become smaller and smaller. I was brought up to believe an education gave you an advantage over not having had one. But after graduation, I still recall recruiters having told me that people with bachelor’s degrees were getting jobs as salespeople and receptionists. It appeared many corporations regarded a four-year degree as “common.” Of course these realities make people question the value of the degree. Has America been dumbed down? My answer to that question is a resounding yes! We are a culture that rewards athletes with million dollar contracts because they can run or throw a ball. And then we have people of questionable talent, the Britney Spears and Paris Hiltons of the world, and they are placed on pedestals for what is usually unquestionably bad behavior. And while these people become icons, our teachers are left to struggle on meager salaries even though they are oftentimes the only authority figures for many of our youth.

And I won’t beat up on the tech support woman who helped me. It was clear she didn’t have training in information technologies. If that had been the case, AT&T would have had to pay a higher wage than they are probably willing to do. The woman who answered my call was given a script of scenarios and told if the customer says XYZ is the problem, take them through steps 1, 2 and 3. Probably she did exactly what she was trained to do, but without a true understanding of what I was describing, she was ultimately unable to help. It is a sad reality because what AT&T has done (as well as other corporations) is create a lose-lose situation. As a customer, I lose because I haven’t been helped and their employee was set up to fail having been placed in a position for which she is unqualified. When we, as a society, begin to value education, we will begin to re-prioritize the value of our teachers vs. how much an athlete makes for being able to throw a ball. My only question is how bad does it have to get before we do that?

Check Baby, Check Baby, 1, 2, 3, 4...

Back when I worked on a television show, we developed a storyline about a character who had trouble finding a man. For hours, the writers sat at the writers’ table discussing the reality of finding true love. We discussed many of the things an average person looks for when trying to find a significant other. We even had an element on the show in which the character composed a list of what she would look for in her ideal man.

So, today my blog comes with an exercise. Before you continue, think of your own list. If in the past you have written one, what were the things you put on it? If you’ve never done this exercise, it’s worth considering. Take a moment to ponder what is most important to you. Perhaps your list might start out something like:

1. Attractive
2. Employed (makes lots of money)
3. Drives nice car
4. Owns home
5. Independent
6. No baggage
7. Smart (Good education)
8.

How would your list continue? If you had to list thirty or fifty things, what would the remaining points be? The interesting thing about executing such a list is that it will give you as much information (if not more) about yourself as it could possibly give you about a significant other. Whenever I have had discussions of this type with friends, it is interesting to hear what things people find important. More often than not, we tend to look for the things that society tells us are positive. Points #1 through #4 on the above list are all things that society says are positive. When those points are added together, they equal #5, “independence.”

But I ask you, do any of the above factors add up to positive character? If you can check off each of the points above, does that mean you have a good man or woman standing before you? Think about this. It’s taken me years to realize that society’s checklist is one of little substance. For several years, I worked with people who had checks by all of the things that society says are important. They had corner offices with degrees from some of the best schools. They drove high-end luxury cars and had addresses in the ritziest of zip codes, but at the end of the day, most of them were not nice people. They were self centered with incredibly strong senses of entitlement and behaved as if their subordinates were lucky to be able to “serve them.” It didn’t take me long to realize that I couldn’t find any reasons to associate with these people besides the fact that we worked together. Still, I realized that on paper, these people looked like true winners. Or at least that’s what society tells us. These are concrete factors to consider when it comes to adding people to our lives.

Years ago, when I was still in high school, I was dropping a friend off and took a few minutes to walk her inside. When we entered, her grandmother mentioned that a kid had called several times for her. It was someone my friend was not at all interested in. She even commented something to the effect of “Why won’t he just leave me alone?” I guess her grandmother liked the guy because she defended him, saying he was a nice kid. My friend’s response was, “I don’t like him” to which her grandmother responded, “That’s the problem with you young folk, you’re always looking for someone to love, but what you need is someone who’ll love you.”

My friend and I simply laughed before my friend retorted, “Oh, grandma, you’re just old.” It would be more than a decade before I realized the profundity of her grandmother’s statement. We spend so much energy looking for the points of interest listed above. Perhaps there would be more success in relationships, if we took an interest in things like:

1. Nice
2. Loyal
3. Likes me
4. Caring
5. Respectful
6. Strong moral character
7. Honest
8. Funny
9. Positive energy (optimist)
10. Helpful

And so on... And this is not to say that there is no validity to the first list. The greatest list will be the one that flushes out a true person, and of course there are many aspects to each of us. I recommend that everyone work on his or her list. With a more concrete idea of what it is you are trying to attract, you will have a clearer understanding of how to do that. The list will also help to clarify what our priorities are. Once you have listed fifty points of interest, how would you rank them?

Completing your list will accomplish a window into the lives of potential significant others. When you know what to look for, you will be able to evaluate how good a person truly is to you. But beware. Completing your list also acts as a mirror into what kind of person you are. Do your points of interest demonstrate depth of character or do they simply outline superficiality?

2012 – Memoirs of the Maya

Over the last few weeks, I have noticed a lot of talk about the end of the Mayan calendar. December 21, 2012 is the supposed end date. And Roland Emmerich, the director of “Stargate” and “Independence Day” even has a disaster movie entitled "2012" coming out about the end of the calendar. Why is this date associated with disaster? Because many doom and gloomers have decided that the calendar finishes because 2012 is the year the world ends. Of course this is untrue, but I decided to do a little research nonetheless, to find out just what the Mayan calendar is about. So, here’s the scoop:

Because our minds have been trained differently, it may be a little tricky to visualize, but the Mayans weren’t counting days when they developed their calendar. It is for this reason that 2012 is hardly the end of days because the Mayans weren’t counting days when they came up with their system.

How the Mayans developed their methodology is still a mystery, but a fascinating one nonetheless. Without going into too much detail, it’s important to say that their calendar is actually three calendars in one, but each of the three parts works in connection with the other elements. First, they have two ways of counting the weeks. One way involves twenty symbols – things like “star”, “monkey”, “earth”, or “storm,” etc. Each of the twenty symbols represents a particular kind of energy. It could be creative energy, stabilizing or harmonizing energy. Or it could be the opposite.

The other way the Mayans counted weeks is by using the numbers 1 through 13. But it is still important to emphasize that they were not counting days. Even the numbers represent different energies. And again, these two systems are meant to work together. To describe a particular day, the Mayans might say, for example, today is 4-earth, which means that day is associated with the energy of the number 4 and of the symbol “earth.”

PLEASE NOTE: Today is in fact 4-caban or 4-earth!

But the day’s energy is not the only thing of importance. It is also important to know under what cycle the day falls. 4-earth might be a day of positive energy in one cycle and not so positive in the next. And the fact of the matter is energy is what the Mayans were tracking. Somehow, they figured there were cycles to our existence, not only as human beings, but as beings in the fabric of existence. We are part of an entire system that involves everything that we can perceive. The skies, the Earth, the air, the water, the birds, everything. Everything is everything and there is a cycle to that everything. Thinking of the cycles of human life may make it easier to visualize. From the moment a child is conceived, the cycles begin. From fetus to embryo, from infancy to the “terrible two’s (a cycle mothers know well). From childhood to adolescence to young adulthood and so on. We have clearly delineated the stages that we as humans go through during our lives. The Mayan calendar accomplishes the same task, only it is not just for human life, it is for existence as a whole. Many important decisions were based on the energies of their calendar. Doing something risky on a day of negative energy is hardly advised. In considering the stages of human life, what stage is existence in now? Millions of years ago, I’m guessing it was in its infancy. Without the benefit of the Maya here to explain, I can only guess that we are in a stage of adolescence right now.

The third part of the Mayan calendar is what they called the “Long Count.” The Long Count charted out cycles of 5,125 years each. If I am not mistaken, each of these cycles is determined by a galactic alignment, i.e., our sun lines up dead center in the Milky Way. 2012 is the end of one of those cycles. It is by no means the final one, but I am sure they felt no need to continue counting since they would never live to see this period anyway.

Ironically, the current cycle, which is now ending was predicted to be an age of materialism (“The age of the Great Forgetting”). An age in which we, as a race, would forget our spiritual connection to the rest of existence, and would focus on the material side of ourselves. Although, the Maya didn’t count beyond 2012, they did predict that 2012 would bring about an awakening to this spiritual amnesia. As the new 5,125-year cycle is ushered in, we will begin to realize the errors of materialism while at the same time strengthening our connection to each other and to what is truly important. And remember, the December 21, 2012 day is not a hard date. It’s not that we will wake up the next day and everything will be different. The change will be like childbirth, gradual, painful and thankfully liberating.

To track the Mayan calendar, please visit:

http://www.mayanmajix.com/TZOLKIN/DT/DT.html

NYC - My Forgotten Muse

Last week I returned to Manhattan after nearly a decade of absence. I flew into La Guardia airport, which strangely seemed quite empty. As I exited the airport, I was somewhat discouraged by the weather. Although it was mid-day, the skies were dark with rain clouds and the temperature was in the low sixties. I hoped this weather wouldn’t last. I had packed shorts and t-shirts in anticipation of heat and humidity. Luckily, my friend, Alessandro had called to warn me of the dip in temperature, so I did have one jacket on hand. As I waited outside for the shuttle bus, I unpacked my jacket to bundle up a bit more.

There was a giddiness in me as I wondered about my upcoming week. Would New York treat me well or would I be anxious to flee from the concrete jungle? I harkened back to the summer I had interned for l’Oreal’s skincare division. I had lived on NYU’s campus and then commuted to 5th Avenue in midtown. That year, summer had stretched deep into September, but it seemed fall had come early this year.

My friend Alessandro is originally from Milan, Italy, but his job relocated him to New York about a year ago. It was my first time visiting him since his move. Because he was still at work when I arrived, I had the doorman let me in. I rested a bit while waiting for him to come home. This also afforded me the opportunity to catch up with his wife who filled me in on their lives in New York. Later that night, after Alessandro had rested, we grabbed a cab to a sushi joint in the Village. After dinner, we strolled into the meatpacking district. Alessandro had mentioned this area to me, but it wasn’t at all developed when I was last in New York. I was completely unfamiliar with it. As we crossed into the meatpacking zone, I was taken aback by the energy and vitality. Even though it was chilly, the streets were full of people.

In the middle of the block, a small crowd had gathered. As we approached, we saw two practically naked women. They were having their bodies decorated with body paints. They were both topless with nearly invisible bikini bottoms. Needless to say, this drew a crowd. As we walked down this street, the Gansevoort Hotel was on my left and Pastis Restaurant was on my right. In fact, there were several high end fashion boutiques, clubs and restaurants on this block.

Many parts of New York have a European feel to them simply because of the architecture. This street was no exception. It was actually a cobblestone street with a mélange of modern and classical architecture. Now I knew why Alessandro had mentioned this area to me. It was bustling and alive. As we walked around the corner, the High Line came into view. The High Line is an old metro line that used to run above ground. Although it is not yet finished, a huge portion of this old track has been converted into a park! Yes, you read that right. Sections of what used to be train tracks and platforms have been landscaped and outfitted with tables and benches. It is the greening of Manhattan, and with all of the concrete there, a little greening isn’t a bad thing.

As we walked through the meatpacking district, a part of me that is normally dormant rose to the surface. My memories of how fantastic New York is began to return. I realized it is a city that offers practically whatever it is you are looking for. Arts and entertainment, good restaurants, clubs, bars, parks and whatever else might tickle your fancy. Part of me felt revitalized, and a desire to stay awake twenty-four hours crept into my mind. Luckily I exercised good judgment and didn’t run myself into the ground as I had done on my last trip to the Big Apple. But still the “city that never sleeps” had energized me. Each day, I walked miles just absorbing all that is there and all that has changed. I am pleased to report the changes that I witnessed have all been for the better. If only we could all be like New York, dynamic, evolving, vibrant. And better!

MULTIPLE CHOICE: a.) victim b.) intentional

During the 80’s while I was still in high school, I remember finding it strange that the perpetrators of crimes managed to be seen as victims. This is back in the days of talk shows like “Jenny Jones”, “Sally Jesse Raphael” and “Montel Williams.” Each day, these shows featured rapists and child molesters who complained that they had become perpetrators because they themselves had been victimized in the past. After describing their atrocities, “expert” psychologists and PhD’s were paraded on stage to corroborate that oftentimes offenders had indeed been victims. Even though I was still a kid, I remembered being uncomfortable with this dynamic. It seemed the media had forgiven the offenders for their choices. All of a sudden, criminals had been transformed into victims. When this is the case, where does accountability lie? No one wants to blame the victim, even when they are the offender.

In February of this year, I was introduced to a group whose way of thinking was very different from anyone I knew. In many ways, their views on life and the world were extremely out of the box. A couple of them proposed an idea that I had never heard before, but have contemplated ever since. The idea is the following:

“What if we have chosen everything that has ever happened in our lives?”

When I first heard this statement, my initial reaction was “No, of course we don’t choose everything.” Certainly, we wouldn’t choose bad things to happen in our lives. Or would we? The more I contemplated this concept, the more it made sense to me. The things we want and the things we need are rarely in alignment, and oftentimes unpleasant things lead to the greatest epiphanies in life. What if, on some subconscious level, we truly knew that we needed to experience both negativity and positivity to truly learn?

This is a scary concept in many ways, especially when you take it to its limit. The deeper idea behind it insinuates that we have chosen even the atrocities in our lives. Whether we have been robbed, raped or molested, is it all because we have chosen it? Do we choose to be rich or poor, sick or healthy? I realize this is an extreme concept. The thing I love most about “we choose everything” is that it accomplishes the opposite of that 80’s victim phenomenon. Instead of a world full of victims, we are all transformed into powerful, responsible beings who are accountable for our choices, even when they seem like bad ones.

Personally, the more I embrace this idea, the less victimized I feel by whatever is happening in my life. Two years ago, I received a rare cancer diagnosis and for many weeks, I felt like such a victim. I questioned how and why this had happened, and felt as if the world had been unfair. But soon thereafter I realized why not me? The more I looked at my life, the more the diagnosis made sense. It was a puzzle piece that fit very nicely into the mosaic of my life. Before the diagnosis, many of my pursuits had been ill placed. It took the diagnosis for me to begin appropriately making changes. Today, there is no doubt I am a much happier person than I ever could have been on my previous path.

Now, we fast-forward twenty plus years from the days of the “talk show,” and the media is airing shows like “Judge Judy” and “Judge Mathis.” I admit a few of these shows are guilty pleasures of mine and there is a certain satisfaction I take from knowing accountability is now being promoted. Finally, there is a reversal from the shows of the 80’s that featured bad behavior and then excused it. Done are the days of receiving sympathy in exchange for playing victim. As such, we should all contemplate the events and circumstances of our lives and ask ourselves “How has this transformed me into a stronger and better person?” When the answer to that question becomes clear, we will also come to understand whether or not we chose it.

I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK! TO LEARN MORE OR TO READ AN EXCERPT
of my sci-fi/fantasy/adventure novel, “The Unveiling: 1.0,” please visit TheUnveilingSeries.com.

Time is Like The Clock in My Heart

Well, here we are, September, 2009. It seems every year time is accelerating just a little faster than the previous year. Personally, I can’t believe how quickly ‘09 is slipping away. I remember in the nineties when I was still in business school, there seemed to be a strange phenomenon going on with me. It was the first semester of my first year. I was sitting in the library thumping my fingernails while studying for an exam. Thumping my nails is a nervous habit I’m not particularly fond of, which is why I keep them cropped low. As I was studying, I felt aggravated that my nails had once again reached that length. I was certain I had clipped them just a few days earlier, which brought up one of two questions. Either my nails were growing faster, which would explain the constant thumping, or it meant many more days had passed and I had simply lost track of time. Perhaps it only seemed my nails were growing faster.

From all accounts, the first year business students were to be barraged with work and exams during that first semester. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that I had simply lost track of the days. Strangely, it was the growth of my fingernails that prompted me to seriously contemplate the passage of time. Should time be perceived as fluid in a static way or as fluctuating and changing? This dialog existed in my head for all of about five minutes and then I was off to study for my next subject. Over a decade would pass before I revisited the concept of time and its passage.

Time, as we know it, is largely artificial. A few thousand years ago, the Mayans developed a calendar upon which our modern calendars are based, but even more significant was the invention of the clock! There is much debate among historians as to who invented the first timepiece. For me, the bigger question is whose decision was it to calibrate it? How did we come up with a 60-second minute, a 60-minute hour, and a 24-hour day? These were choices arbitrarily decided upon by a man, and are very much out of synch with time as it is seen in nature.

The concept of natural time is something I had never considered as recently as two years ago. I had always accepted time for what I had been told it was: 60-seconds; 60-minutes and 24 hours. In reality we know this isn’t an accurate timetable. All around us, there are clues about natural time and how it flows. Sunrise and sunset are simple examples, but even these are fluid and changing. In the summertime, days are longer. In winter, they are shorter. High and low tides, as well as full moons are also nature’s way of telling us what time it is, but for centuries we have chosen not to listen. Instead, we watch our clocks becoming slaves to them. For us, time has become this concept, which seems external to us. It is this thing we cannot grab a hold of, or that we race around to beat. Too many times I have heard “It’s time for me to have a baby,” or “It’s time for me to get married,” or “It’s time for me to buy property.” Time is this artificial clock we have imposed upon ourselves telling us how to live our lives. Shouldn’t getting married and having babies be based upon two loving and nurturing people finding each other and being ready to usher children into adulthood? Wouldn’t the world be a better place if this were the case? Or is it better to base such factors on being twenty-five or twenty-seven?

I remember how foreign and strange it seemed when I first read of indigenous cultures who didn’t keep track of time. I didn’t understand how these ancient tribes didn’t know how old they were. Now I do understand. These are the last of a few people who have managed to continue living in nature while existing in natural time. They didn’t know their ages just as trees don’t contemplate how old they are. Even within a woman’s body, there is a natural calendar, which can be interpreted by her menstrual cycle.

Although we may not realize it, many of today’s environmental issues are due in large party to our choice to remove ourselves from natural time. Instead of seeing ourselves as part of a system, we see nature as this thing happening around us, and that is independent of our actions. It is this ignorance that allows us to pollute the air and contaminate the water, and feel that there will be no ramifications for it.

Luckily for us, it is at the end of their calendar (in 2012) that those lofty Mayans predicted an end to our misunderstanding. According to their predictions, we will once again come to comprehend our roles in nature. And it appears we are right on time. If we look around us, there does appear to be an increase in awareness of how we fit in the system. In the near future, we will acknowledge that daylight savings time is not the needed adjustment to our timetable. We will come to recognize that the needed adjustments are within our hearts. When we fall in tune with everything around us, then and only then will time be on our side.

A City With So Much, Including Obstacles

I am one of a few native Californians having been born in Hollywood and raised in Pasadena. For most of my youth, I thought California was the center of the universe. There was nowhere else I wanted to live. But that was up until about ten years ago. For nearly a decade, I lived unhappily in the City of Angels and I just hoped for the best. I hoped for less traffic and better air quality. I hoped the streets would be in better repair and that the necessary maintenance wouldn’t worsen traffic. I hoped property values would cease to skyrocket, so that I could one day afford to buy. At one point I found myself hoping that L.A.’s population would decrease. I prayed people would stop moving in while others moved out. And yes, I soon realized how unrealistic my hopes and dreams were.

In some ways, I felt being a native made living in L.A. harder to accept. I remembered when the traffic wasn’t so bad and when there was actually a time of day that it ended. I remembered when there weren’t so many people competing for the resources that California has to offer. Yes, I remembered a kinder, gentler California. Given the information I had, I made a decision. I realized it was more realistic for me to leave than it was waiting for others to leave. At least I had control over whether or not I stayed.

With my mind set on leaving California, the first city I had on my radar was Vancouver, Canada. I flew there and remembered feeling a breath of fresh air that it wasn’t overcrowded or polluted. In fact, I felt Vancouver had yet to reach its capacity, whereas if L.A. had been a club, the fire marshals should have been called in years ago to shut it down. Although Vancouver didn’t work out, I did manage to escape from Los Angeles and to settle in the dirty south in Atlanta, Georgia.

Soon after I began learning what Atlanta had to offer, I also began analyzing exactly what had not worked for me in L.A. It took me a while to realize L.A. had become a veritable city of obstacles. I began to realize that I had constantly encountered barriers and roadblocks in the most unlikely of places. Even if I just wanted to meet a friend for drinks, I had to drive. It's the way L.A.'s infrastructure works. And it's not uncommon to encounter a traffic jam at nine pm on a Tuesday, or at eleven pm on a Sunday. And once I had braved traffic, there was still the issue of parking, and then waiting on line in the more popular spots.

Obstacles to the simple things are hard for me to accept. Something as simple as going jogging isn’t always an easy task. During my latest visit to L.A., I decided to jog the Runyon Canyon trail. It was early on a Saturday morning, between eight and eight-thirty am. To my dismay, I was greeted by roughly twelve other drivers hunting for parking. After five or so minutes of driving around, I decided to go where parking was not an obstacle. But this is the main problem with L.A., and likely with many other big cities. There is too much of everything. The upside of this phenomenon is there are always a zillion things to do. There is never a reason to be bored. The downside is the number of obstacles. Just like the population, it grows with every year.

In addition to these little nuisances, there are also the premiums that Los Angelenos pay. Property values are astronomical in comparison to many other cities. Taxes are more. Gas costs more and car insurance is more. And due to the financial crisis, California residents are being asked to pay for things that never used to cost money. Parking meters are popping up everywhere, even in areas that are not commercial hot spots. In my youth, parking was never a problem.

Hopefully, this hasn’t seemed like an L.A. bashing session. That was not my intention. In fact, I am only writing about L.A. because it’s what I know. The point of my story is that we must begin taking into consideration the factors that make us happy. Each year there are surveys about the quality of life in different cities across the world. Los Angeles doesn’t rank highly in these surveys and I suspect it is because it is not an easy city. But that’s the good news. There is a whole world out there for us to explore.

To see the 2009 top 50 cities quality of life rankings, please visit:

http://www.mercer.com/referencecontent.htm?idContent=1173105#Top_50_cities:_Quality_of_living