Clearly As It Is

Commercially Yours

2012-02-05T18:21:00.000-08:00

In light of the Super Bowl and its legendary commercials, I figured today’s topic was timely. Now that I have Netflix, I have grown accustomed to commercial free viewing when I watch series television. While I don’t have a DVR, I still find myself trying to pause live TV, a habit I developed from watching Netflix and DVD’s.

I must admit I was a little perplexed when I stumbled across Alexandra Wentworth’s comedy series “Head Case.” The first episode I watched was 11 minutes long. The length perplexed me since TV shows are formatted to be a half hour, an hour, or a movie length of 2 hours. When you watch an hour-long drama without commercials, they tend to be between 40 and 42 minutes long. This means an hour-long TV show will have anywhere from 18 to 20 minutes of commercials. This is one-third of the viewing time spent watching commercials. If this formula were used for a half-hour show, you would expect there to be roughly 10 minutes of commercial viewing and 20 minutes of the actual show. Once again, the 11-minute length of Head Case confused me. If this was a true time frame, it meant two-thirds of the viewing time was dedicated to commercials while only a third of the time slot was dedicated to the actual show. Huh?

As it turns out, “Head Case” was developed for the Starz cable network. From what I can gather, Starz doesn’t have commercials, which explains the 11-minute format. With that said, I still wonder how the show will be syndicated. Perhaps, they will double up on episodes, although some of the later episodes actually did approach roughly 20-minutes. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how that plays out.

Noticing these discrepancies brought a larger question to mind. Is it the intention of the television networks that we watch their shows or the commercials that are interspersed between them? Back when my mom was alive and we were both in California, I would visit each Saturday. I still remember her muting the television during commercial breaks because in her words, “The commercials drive me crazy”.

In the past year, I confess I have begun to do the same thing, muting the television each time commercials appear. I am often fascinated by the synchronicity of the networks. More often than not, if you change the channel during a commercial, you land on another commercial. How do they manage to do this so consistently? Truthfully, I know the answer to this question. For the most part, TV shows are similarly structured into six acts. As such, the commercials will tend to occur simultaneously across all of the networks.

Most of us find this aspect of television annoying, which is why the DVR’s arrival has been a particular challenge to advertisers and networks. When we record our shows, we can easily zip through commercial breaks. Advertisers deplore this idea. In the old days, we would run to the bathroom or get snacks during commercials. This is the reason the volume blares much higher at these times. You can still hear the name of the product or catchy lyrics that you will hopefully remember while you are in the grocery store or shopping for some other product.

I still recall how absurd I thought “The Running Man” was with Arnold Schwarzenegger. While it was released in the late 80’s, it was a portrait of a futuristic world overrun by edgy, life threatening game shows and corporate advertisers. At the time, I thought it a far-fetched concept but in many ways it has come to fruition. Shows like Fear Factor, The Amazing Race and Survivor flood the airwaves with a slue of commercials and infomercials, brainwashing us to consume. Today, I write only to reflect. Is it the commercials or the shows being sold to us? Do we go out and consume what we want, what we need, or the things advertisers tell us we need? Hm.... Happy Super Bowl everybody!

The Art Of Dating

2012-01-26T10:24:00.000-08:00

I must confess I didn’t understand the first time I heard it. One of my best friends, Thomas, had just moved to Manhattan from his native Germany. In no time he had learned his way around the city, venturing through all of the burrows, New Jersey, and on occasion up to the Hamptons. After a few months he phoned me to describe his first “American” date. I had to ask for clarity, “What do you mean American date?” He explained that Europeans don’t date like Americans when they are getting to know one another romantically. “What?” I was perplexed by this revelation.

I was no stranger to the idea of divergent practices in different cultures. My father, after all, was not born in the U.S.A. and we had lived overseas for several years. Certainly, in countries where arranged marriages are the norm, there is not the concept of dating, but everyone in western society I imagined went on dates like we do here on North American soil. Apparently, this was not the case, so I asked him to explain exactly what he meant. The conversation was of particular interest to me, especially since my most intimate relationships have all been with Europeans.

Here in the U.S. we learn dating etiquette that reads something like the following: A man arrives to pick up his date, walks her to the car, opens the door, pulls out her chair, pays for dinner, returns her to her domicile and if he’s lucky, he kisses her goodnight at the front door. This is, of course, on the first date. If all goes well there may be subsequent dates. With each additional one, the probability of emotional and physical intimacy rises, at least in theory.

To use the popular baseball metaphor, when a man gets lucky, he slides through the bases, which Wikipedia defines as follows:

• First base – mouth to mouth kissing, especially open mouth ("French") kissing involving the tongue.
• Second base – aggressive stimulation between the neck and waist, usually shirtless or under the shirt.
• Third base – manual or oral stimulation of the genitalia.
• Fourth base (Home run) – the act of penetrative intercourse.

So, I asked Thomas to explain, “If you don’t date in Europe, how do you get to know one another?” In some ways the answer was too simple for me to grasp. He said if you meet someone you’re interested in romantically, you simply invite that person out. It wouldn’t necessarily be considered a date, but more so an outing. If, by chance, you enjoyed spending time with that person, it would only stand to reason that you continue going out. There is no protocol about showing up and returning someone to their front door. There is no tally of how many outings have been made. There’s just a mutual understanding between two people who enjoy spending time together.

As I mentioned, romantically, I have always clicked better with Europeans. In the beginning I didn’t know why. I suspected it might have been because I lived overseas during my adolescence. For me, the rules of “American dating” always felt rigid and constraining. I’m sure we have all discussed aspects of dating etiquette. A few popular topics typically include whether or not it’s okay to see someone every day when first beginning to date, as this could be construed as needy. Do both parties agree how to proceed with intimacy? Should second base be on the third date and sex on the tenth? The whole construct becomes a game of figuring out whether or not you and another person are on the same page.

Another close friend of mine was dating long distance and considered a week long visit to be one date. I still remember debating this with him. If dinner and a movie are regarded as a single date, certainly a 7-day visit counts as more than one. The conversation made me realize something I had never paid that much attention to. Many of us use the concept of dating as a barrier rather than a bridge for getting to know one another. “I don’t need to tell him (or her) that I’ll be out of town that week, we’ve only been on a few dates.” “No, I didn’t invite her (or him) to the party, we haven’t gotten to that point yet.” When “dating” is used to hold people at bay, how can you ever get closer to one another?

I suspect this is the reason my friend wanted to declare a week long stay as one date. If the visit counted as seven, there would be a higher expectation of shared intimacy in his mind, something he likely wasn’t ready for. But this is the thing, at the end of the day, isn’t dating a simple construct of our minds? If there is a true dating protocol, it only exists between you and the person you are dating. In a different relationship, the protocol would likely have to change, as a new person would require a new and separate agreement about how things work. When we are truly ready to make ourselves emotionally available, only then will we begin to repeal the rules (and walls) we’ve constructed to keep ourselves safe.

The Authentic You!

2012-01-01T17:19:00.000-08:00

Merriam Webster’s dictionary defines “authentic” in several ways. The two variations that made the most sense for today’s post are the following:

1: not false or imitation: real, actual
2: true to one's own personality, spirit, or character

During the last nine months, a few friends and I have talked extensively about living “authentic lives.” But what makes someone’s life authentic? If we go back to Webster’s definition, an authentic life would be one without pretense and/or falsehoods. As we all know, this is not always so easy to accomplish, as it requires incredible self-assuredness.

I still remember quite vividly the ten-day meditation retreat that I attended nearly three years ago. When you sign up for this retreat you are asked to abide by several Buddhist tenets, some of which include not to lie, cheat or steal. The actual retreat was silent, which pretty much takes care of the pledge not to lie. It is only in the early part of day-ten that everyone is allowed to converse. Believe me, it is surreal spending nine and a half days meditating, eating, bathing and sleeping beside 80 people you haven’t spoken a word to. I certainly learned how judgmental I can be, as I formed opinions on people to whom I hadn’t spoken a single word. On the final day, when I chatted with fellow meditators, I discovered they were nothing like I imagined. The man I assumed was a family man with a wife and two daughters was gay. I was certain the young twenty-something guy with movie star good looks was a snob, but he ended up being a circus performer (a la Cirque du Soleil) who was actually quite charming.

From the very instant that we began to introduce ourselves I quickly realized I was filtering what I wanted people to know about me. Only months before I had been laid off from my job, a circumstance I had never experienced before. I remember being exceptionally sensitive about discussing it. In essence, I was providing slightly altered versions of my truth. This behavior, to say the least, was not authentic. And while I consider myself to be an honest person, I would likely not have followed that particular tenet had we been allowed to speak. So again, how do we get to an authentic life? Start by throwing out the script you believe you were given. For most of us this script reads something like the following:

1. Elementary School
2. Middle School (Junior High)
3. High School
4. College [at least undergraduate, possibly more]
5. Get a job
6. Get married
7. Have children
8. Retirement

While many people have become and continue to be successful with the above scenario, it is not for everyone. Steve Jobs skipped the fourth step while Brangelina skipped the sixth. To become our authentic selves we all need to consider what variations of the above script are appropriate for our own individual lives. Keep in mind this is not an excuse to throw off your responsibilities. Our true selves will only emerge from honesty and dedication. Our true selves will always have a sense of purpose and will commit to hard work toward a specific set of goals.

Just as the caterpillar enters its cocoon to emerge as its more beautiful butterfly self, we must find a safe place to figure out who we really are. As 2012 begins, take a moment to sit quietly. Think, reflect, and meditate. Wait for the velocity of your own thoughts to slow down. Listen to that inner voice. Do this repeatedly and allow your own metamorphosis to begin.

The reason casting agents are in business is because they have a knack for matching specific actors to suitable roles. You must serve as your own casting director to arrive at the real you. If the script outlined above is suitable then play that role. If it isn’t write your own story because only you can answer what authentic means in your life. Happy 2012 to all!

Gray Areas

2011-12-19T09:45:00.000-08:00

Merriam Webster defines the word “Tenet” as follows:

“A principle, belief, or doctrine generally held to be true; especially one held in common by members of an organization, movement, or profession.”

The qualifying clause, “especially one held in common by members of an organization, movement, or profession” suggests that principles and beliefs can vary between communities. Of course we all know this to be true but there are also fixed, universal tenets that translate across cultures and communities. They are not beliefs so much as they are universal laws of nature that most of us clearly see as black and white. A few examples of such universal laws are stated in almost every religion. The Ten Commandments of the Bible, the Precepts of Buddhism and the Koran all speak reminders that we should neither lie, cheat, steal or kill, just to name a few.

But there are also more confusing universal truths that aren’t so clearly delineated. Instead they are gray areas that many of us choose to interpret (often erroneously) at our own discretion. For some reason, Spike Lee’s “Do The Right Thing” comes to mind. It was the first time a movie confronted me with a conflict where I respected both sides of two dueling point of views. For those of you who didn’t see the movie, the central story involves an Italian owned pizzeria in a predominately African-American neighborhood. Because the pizzeria’s livelihood depends largely on its African-American clientele, there are customers who want African-Americans represented on the owner’s renowned “Wall of Fame” where photos of renowned Italians are prominently displayed.

In my mind, the customers’ request was well within reason. But the owner, as sole proprietor felt entitled to arrange his “Wall of Fame” as he saw fit, which was also quite reasonable. Of course, major conflict ensued ending in the unfortunate death of a central character. So, who was right and what could these characters have done differently in order to “Do The Right Thing?” Today, I realize the answer is quite simple. They could both have chosen to respect their fellow man. Had the African-American character chosen to respect the pizzeria owner’s prerogative to arrange his wall of photos as he pleased, or had the pizzeria owner chosen to respect the clientele that allowed his business to thrive, there would have been no problem.

Today, it seems many universal laws have fallen victim to legislation and special interests. As a society, we need to do better at fine-tuning our internal moral compasses, with an understanding not only of the black and white areas, but of the gray ones as well. All too often, I have heard, “it’s not against the law” as if this were carte blanche to do the wrong thing. Because it isn’t illegal, does this suggest it isn’t wrong or unethical? In theory, laws are written to regulate people who are otherwise incapable of regulating themselves. It is up to each of us to do better in the gray areas, not only to discern right from wrong but also to then regulate ourselves appropriately. We do ourselves a disservice when we dedicate this responsibility to lawmakers who often don’t understand the difference themselves.

I'm Baaaack!

2011-12-07T18:45:00.000-08:00

If I mull it over it’s hard to believe I haven’t blogged in nearly a year (how is this possible?).

For months now I have been telling myself I need to at least write an entry explaining why I’ve been away. While it was not intended I suppose there’s a peculiar irony in the title of my most recent entry from December of last year -- “To See A Disappearing Act” -- especially since immediately after I proceeded to disappear.

So, here’s what’s going on... About two years ago, I started my first novel. Writing a book is something I hadn’t contemplated or attempted since I always endeavored to write screenplays or teleplays. To be honest, in my innocence (or dare I say ignorance?) I didn’t really change my story development process. Probably, this is why some of my preliminary readers have said, “It reads like a movie.”

When I finally started the first chapter, I have to admit it was liberating. Writing screenplays is extremely rigid since you can only put on the page what you expect your audience to see on the screen. Such rules do not apply in books where you can more easily jump back and forth in time or delve into a character’s inner thoughts.

About a year ago, I laid down my first draft (with quite a bit of blood, sweat and tears). Some days I would write and believe my work was brilliant. But there were also dreadful days when I composed chapters that really weren’t working at all. My only solace was that I had something concrete. A sculptor must start with a large block of stone and craft it into something intentional like Michelangelo’s David or the Pieta. When I completed my first draft I was ecstatic to have something on paper. In reality all I had was a block of stone. I had this mass of words and chapters -- all of it put together into a huge mass of something that would eventually, hopefully become my book. But it wasn’t a book yet. During this phase I was still blogging quite regularly. In this last year, however, while I have been absent, I have been chipping away at that first draft, working to create what I hope will be an enjoyable, perhaps informative story.

In any event, this is the reason for my absence. While I haven’t been blogging, I have been writing. In the next weeks and months, I hope to share more thoughts and experiences on this journey we call life. And I’ll certainly keep you posted on my progress with the book (and my search for a publisher).... Until then, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!!

To See A Disappearing Act

2010-12-23T08:07:00.000-08:00

It was already 10 pm and I was fighting sleep. I knew I wouldn’t last more than an hour in the dead of the night’s deep cold so I hesitantly set the alarm on my phone for 2 am. Within minutes I was asleep and then the alarm sounded jarring me from my slumber. I felt groggy and disoriented fumbling with my phone whose only alarm sound was shrill and grating. My house was chilly, as I’d lowered the heat before getting cozy beneath my blankets. I contemplated returning to sleep and abandoning my mission to witness the full lunar eclipse of this winter solstice but then I considered the rarity of the event and dragged myself from bed. I slipped on some shoes and my warmest down jacket then descended the stairs.

At 2 am I didn’t know where I would find the best view of the moon so I flipped a mental coin and decided to start with my back patio. Once outside the cold air nipped at my hands and quickly wrapped around my legs, which were badly insulated with thin pajamas. The hooded jacket was efficient and my torso and head felt as if I were still beneath my sheets. I looked to the left and right, but the moon was nowhere to be found. Just as I was resigning to move to the front of the house, I looked directly overhead and there it was the full moon shining brightly like a huge pendant lamp dangling in the sky. The lunar eclipse had begun and a third of the moon was already obscured. I felt terribly lucky. There was a huge cloud bank in the east, but the skies over my house were clear allowing a perfect view of the occurrence.

After several minutes of watching the eclipse my neck began to hurt. I realized the moon’s coordinates had necessitated me craning my neck into an extremely uncomfortable position. To gain relief I bent forward and touched my toes allowing gravity to soothe my fatigued muscles. About fifteen minutes in, new clouds began arriving, thin and mist-like, traveling rapidly across the skies. Fortunately, I was still able to see the moon like a lighthouse beacon illuminating the skies through a veil of fog. I was in awe of how fast the clouds were moving especially since I didn’t feel a breeze. Every so often, an opening clearly revealed the moon’s disappearing act.

About thirty minutes in the moon was seventy-five percent obscured, but the cumulus clouds were growing thicker. For moments the moon seemed to blink out as if the eclipse had completed but then its brightness would return. I wondered if the clouds were causing my eyes to play tricks on me. And then suddenly, the swift moving clouds slowed to a crawl as if the moon had demanded their attention. For nearly a half hour they had been traveling east, but they were changing course inching more toward the south. I waited patiently for an opening so I could witness the moon slipping on its veil like a skilled belly dancer. Finally, an aperture appeared and the eclipse, nearly complete, had transformed the white, shining moon almost as if a crimson filter had been slipped over its entirety. The various shades of red dazzled me for a fleeting moment until the moon vanished again behind the clouds. I patiently waited but the moon or the clouds or both had decided to tease with their show. For only seconds at a time I could catch a glimpse. I had expected the moon to vanish during the eclipse as if hiding behind some black curtain of night, but this was not the case. Upon the eclipse’s completion the moon had certainly dimmed but its prominence was hardly diminished as it shined like a red ruby hanging in the sky.

By now I had been standing in the cold for nearly forty minutes at which point the blanket of clouds closed in like the final curtain call at a play. I massaged my sore neck and slipped back into the house, which now seemed warm and cozy. I have to admit it was difficult getting back to sleep. I awoke tired the next morning but was somehow energized by the show I’d witnessed in the cold of the night.

The Road To Tennessee - Part III

2010-11-03T16:23:00.000-07:00

After weeks of pushing to prepare for my move I paused, allowing myself a day to work on my book. Feeling as if I were treating myself to a leisurely day I drove to one of my preferred coffee shops to order lunch. After eating I began the task of banging out pages only to be struck later in the day by mild stomach cramps. It wasn’t like food poisoning but the ache in my stomach was a definite nuisance. For nearly an hour I struggled to continue writing but then grew fearful of pushing myself too hard. Not wanting to sink any further into the quicksand of my fatigue I gathered my things, hurried to my car and drove home. It was my intention to unwind and have dinner but the ache in my stomach seemed to be growing more intense. Within two hours a sharp pain had developed on my left side. I suspected an appendicitis but quickly tossed out the idea after a quick Internet search revealed the appendix is on the opposite side. At this point I broke out in a sweat even though, to the touch, my face was cold and clammy.

I can safely say I was officially panicked. I began brainstorming whether I should call 9-1-1 or simply drive myself to the ER [about five miles away]. I elected for the latter and quickly hopped in the car. It was 9:30 at night. It wasn’t especially warm outside but I was sweating nonetheless. I rolled down my windows and opened the sunroof allowing the wind to soothe my forehead and cheeks. During the brief drive I phoned my cousin to inform her of what was going on. By the time I arrived at the ER I was bowled over by a sharp and intense pain.

Roughly ninety minutes after my arrival I was wheeled in for an MRI only to learn I had an 8mm kidney stone that had probably just been ejected from my kidney. No one in my family had ever had a kidney stone that I know of so I was in completely unfamiliar territory. The doctor informed me it was extremely unlikely that an 8mm stone would pass on its own, which left me with two options:

#1, have a urologist send a fiber optic camera with pincers up my urethra and through my bladder into the ureter to retrieve the stone. This sounded very unpleasant to say the least. One of the nurses even made a snide comment about Roto-rooter.

The other option, #2, was to have lithotripsy, a procedure involving ultrasound where the stone is obliterated by sound waves. This would only be possible if the stone was located in a particular portion of the ureter. Luckily for me, it had likely just exited my kidney in the coffee shop so lithotripsy was still an option. The only catch was I would have to wait 5 days to have the procedure. Needless to say three days later I found myself once again in the ER totally overcome with pain and vomiting from the nausea. I later learned that my cousin’s daughter had suffered a kidney stone and the intensity of pain, in her words, was “worse than labor pain.”

The fascinating thing about the whole experience in that ER was that even in the clutches of my pain I could feel the malaise of the previous month lifting. I was in the waiting room nearly in a fetal position but somehow I felt better. The cloudiness in my head and the fatigue seemed to instantaneously disappear. Just days after the procedure the heartburn and the palpitations also subsided and I quickly realized what had occurred after that massage. I’ve always been told tense muscles trap toxins such as lactic acid. Those toxins are released when the tension is broken by massage. The massage after Tennessee had released toxins into my blood but my left kidney was impacted and wasn’t functioning properly to filter them. Once the stone was released, many of my symptoms resolved only to be replaced by the intense pain of the stone being trapped in the ureter.

A few days later I completed the lithotripsy procedure with only three weeks to spare until my move. Thankfully I am writing this blog from my new address. As Shakespeare once wrote “All’s Well that Ends Well.”

The Road To Tennessee - Part II

2010-11-03T16:17:00.000-07:00

Just before dusk and only a day after our arrival my cousin and I took to the roads for the four-hour return drive to Atlanta. The Tennessee farm was gorgeous but our weekend trip had to be cut short due to the unfortunate passing of one of my cousin’s close friends. Truthfully, I wasn’t fully rested from the drive up as we loaded our things into the car but I decided I would take it easy the following day.

I arrived home Saturday just before midnight and threw my bags in the corner. The next morning I was tired, but was pleasantly surprised that eight cumulative hours in the car hadn’t completely wiped me out. I nevertheless knew I would need at least another good night’s sleep before I even felt close to being rested. In an effort to give myself a leg up I booked a massage for the following day. Almost without fail I manage to sleep deeply after a massage and I knew sleep would be the only cure for my fatigue.

The day of my massage went more or less as planned. I had booked the last appointment of the night knowing the relaxed state would leave me feeling sleepy. I ordered a pizza on the way home and devoured several slices before retiring to my bed. Just as expected, my slumber was deep and uninterrupted. Normally I sleep anywhere from four to six hours unless I’ve had a massage, in which case eight hours are more typical. This day however I didn’t fully awake.

The next morning I looked at the clock, aware that I had slept eight hours but I remained strangely groggy and unrefreshed. In fact, I was more tired than I had been the night before. Luckily, I didn’t have any appointments and was free to continue sleeping. I quickly rolled over for what I thought would be another hour or so of slumber only to find my day dragging on with me only waking long to eat or use the restroom. Before I knew it, 6 pm had rolled around and I was not only still in pajamas, I was still in bed! With each hour of sleep it seemed my fatigue only deepened. I was probably in denial at the time, but when I think back about it I now realize there was an added malaise I was experiencing even if I couldn’t define exactly what it was. There was no sore throat, no sniffles, not even a full headache but I was groggy and my thoughts were murky.

To my dismay, this new feeling of unwell continued for days that quickly ran into weeks and then a month. I felt myself slipping into a cloud. After months of laboring to finish my book, it occurred to me I had misstepped. I had promised myself I would move from the outskirts of Atlanta or what the locals call OTP (outside the perimeter) for a younger and hipper address inside the perimeter (ITP).

Only months before I’d been told that Alan Ball, the author of “American Beauty” had grown up in Marietta and had based the story on his perceptions of life there. Ten years after the movie I was living in Marietta and made witness to some of the hypocrisies outlined in the film. And now I was scrambling around attempting to ready the new home while organizing the old one thirty miles away for its new occupants. Each passing day I felt like crap. To describe my state of mind as “discouraged” is the weakest of understatements. With such feelings of physical discord how would I accomplish everything that needed to be done? To make things worse new symptoms were arising daily -- terrible heartburn, dizziness and heart palpitations. And no matter how much I slept I didn’t feel rested. I reluctantly consulted my doctors but they were without answers. Fortunately by this time the answers were only days away. -TO BE CONTINUED-

The Road To Tennessee - Part I

2010-09-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

It has been 60 – give or take a dozen days – since my cousin Jean invited me to the farm in Tennessee where she grew up. For some time I had been aware of my relatives there but we had never met so I was largely unfamiliar with that part of my family. It was a Friday afternoon. Jean and I packed ourselves into her car and hit the road for what would be a four hour trip.

I have to admit for more than a hundred miles there was nothing of major interest to see. I’d even asked about Tennessee’s population because from what I’d seen there wasn’t much of one – no houses, no buildings, just a dense canopy of trees. In addition, powerful thunderstorms were traversing through the south and we weren’t fortunate enough to avoid them. About two hours into the trip, we drove right into inclement weather. Whenever possible I avoid driving in rain but this time I wasn’t behind the wheel. I nervously sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. The downpour turned torrential completely obscuring the road but Jean’s car, a sturdy E-class Mercedes gripped the asphalt carrying us through.

Once we were about 12 miles from the farm Jean informed me there were two ways we could arrive -- the more scenic drive along a hillside ridge or by continuing along the highway, which was faster albeit a longer distance. Because it was my first time I voted for the scenic route. It was around 6pm in July and the summer days were still long with the sun high above the horizon. And then Jean turned onto the ridge.

I could hardly believe my eyes since the drab scenery from earlier had left me suspecting Tennessee was a not-so-beautiful state. For miles we had stared at a landscape of nothing but trees, highway and shrubbery and then finally I understood what my cousin meant by “the ridge.”

A valley of beautiful pastures and trees spanned for as far as my eyes could see. The brunt of the storms had passed hours before but fluffy lingering clouds spotted the sunny skies as if an artist had expertly placed them there with his brush. Yes it was July, but fragmented storm clouds littered the valley as if they had crash-landed leaving a debris of fog and mist along the ridge. The view was confusing yet beautifully mystical, magical even. The foggy hillside suggested a wintery European countryside but at the same time it was unseasonably warm and humid outside.

I can’t fully explain why but two words immediately entered my mind: “Sacred ground.” I immediately envisioned the methods used by Native Americans in determining what qualified the land as sacred. There was no way this place couldn’t have been considered so. In all of my travels I have seen phenomenal landscapes and breathtaking views but only once before (back in California) did I experience a similar reaction to the one I was having on that ridge. It wasn’t the view alone. There was an energy I felt, something I can’t readily explain.

Ten minutes later at the farm I happily stepped from the car and stretched my legs. It was still warm even though the storms had cooled the air. I surveyed the farmhouse to realize it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. In fact it was a ranch style home not unlike ones found in L.A. or Atlanta. Many of my relatives were waiting and I was finally able to match faces to voices I had only heard on the phone. It was only minutes before I excused myself to the restroom. I made my way to the commode and gazed through the window above it. And I witnessed the gorgeous view pictured above. I was so happy Jean had invited me to visit this beautiful place.

For a day and a half we ate farm food and breathed farm air and then unforeseen circumstances necessitated our return to Atlanta. I have to admit the quick return trip was fatiguing, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Within 48 hours of our return I began my inevitable descent into a hazy cloud of paralyzing malaise. And to my chagrin it would be nearly six weeks before I fully understood why. -TO BE CONTINUED-

Sugar Plums, Laughter and Tears

2010-05-08T21:04:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, my friend Andrea emailed me and inquired if I would be okay this weekend. To be honest, I read the message a few times because I didn’t fully understand why I was being asked the question. And then it clicked in that this weekend is Mother’s Day. Ironically, just today my cousin Jean asked the same question. “Will I be okay?”

Losing my mom was without a doubt the most difficult adversity I’ve ever suffered. So of course the question was valid. But here’s the thing, the challenge of living in her absence has been present every day since her passing but through God’s and her grace I cope.

I remember in grade school when I was rude and defiant to my teachers, which was rare, but when it did occur I always feared the repercussions at home. At the time I didn’t fully comprehend why, but my mother always sided with me, even when I was in the wrong.

Rather inappropriately I once stormed out of a high school teacher’s class. The following day, he called me to the front of the room and asked why I left, to which I responded, “You were getting on my nerves.” Needless to say my answer didn’t go over well. Instead of teaching, he spent ten minutes constructing a letter to the principal demanding that a parent-teacher conference be arranged. I knew such a meeting wouldn’t bode well for me and was shocked when my mother reported back. She told me she’d apologized profusely explaining that I would never behave in such a way again. To my astonishment, she continued to tell me how teachers often power tripped due to a deep-seated need for control. Her speech about me hadn’t come from a true sense of culpability about my actions but rather she had endeavored to reestablish the peace between me and this teacher. A teacher herself, she knew what she was talking about. The plan worked seamlessly and I never had (or caused) trouble with that teacher again. In some ways that was my first glimpse into the deepest depths of her love for me. She always saw a light in me even when I was in the wrong.

In the immediate days after her passing, I felt a huge disconnect with everything around me. She had literally been the conduit through which I arrived in this world. And my first taste of nourishment had come at her hand. On my first day of pre-school she was there. The first clothes I wore she purchased. Later when I was choosing a boarding school and even when I chose my college, she visited the campuses with me. She bought plants for my first apartment and explained how to prepare my first Thanksgiving dinner away from home.

My entire life had been colored by her presence and then suddenly and unexpectedly, she was gone. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t consider the enormous loss I feel. On some days, the sense of anguish alleviates, but it is never gone. In that regard, the arrival of Mother’s Day will hardly deviate from the other 364 days of the year. I miss her today, as I will tomorrow and for all the remaining days of my life. But there is beauty in my sorrow. The depth of emotion I feel stems from the joy of having been blessed with a mother who could show me true examples of undying and unconditional love. To my mom and to all mothers I bid you a Happy Mother’s Day.

Out of Focus - Part One: The Root of all Evil.

2010-05-06T14:46:00.000-07:00

Wikipedia defines “cliché” in the following way:

“A saying, expression, idea, or element of an artistic work which has been overused to the point of losing its original meaning or effect, rendering it a stereotype, especially when at some earlier time it was considered meaningful or novel.”

“Money is the root of all evil” or moreover “The love of money is the root of all evil” is bound to be in the top 25 of most popular clichés. But if Wikipedia is right, this expression, at one time, had to have held a powerful and significant meaning. What has been lost from the expression that has now rendered it “cliché?”

Before the invention of money, a system of bartering was used where goods or services were exchanged in the absence of currency. The interesting aspect of bartering, in my mind, involves the concept of usefulness. You wouldn’t give up your cow for a goat unless you really needed that goat and vice versa. In bartering, there is a stronger sense of integrity to the transaction. Both parties make the exchange because in some way they have the perception of being made better off. In fact, a barter probably wouldn’t occur unless everyone involved felt a win-win situation was taking place. And then came money.

When money enters the equation, perspectives often become blurred obscuring the concept of usefulness. When in pursuit of money, it’s not unusual for people to forgo their passions for careers they have no interest in. Take the salaries of doctors and lawyers and exchange them with what a teacher makes. I guarantee we would see a huge shift in the type of degrees pursued in college. Not because of some philosophical shift in people’s inner passions but because money is a big motivator and when dollars are involved, sense and purpose are oftentimes thrown to the wind.

In our current economy, we are all aware of how companies revere their own products and employees. When cash is at stake, even the most loyal and productive of workers can be relinquished at the drop of a hat. Or the products are compromised in order to save the bottom line. How many times have we heard of pharmaceutical companies releasing drugs they knew were dangerous? Or industrial companies that knowingly pollute the air and water all because it would be too expensive for them to do otherwise? And no, I don’t have delusions about the ways of the world. In order to operate even a non-profit must make money. But let’s celebrate businesses that add value, not pollution. Businesses that enrich rather than poison with toxic medications.

In many ways, the corporation has become a poster child for weak principles. For decades the trend has been to create disposable, cheaply made products that only last a few years. Turnover is the goal and it doesn’t matter if products aren’t durable. In fact, it’s better if they aren’t because it’s a way to keep customers circulating through a revolving door. Production and sales equals dollars even if it’s to the detriment of the environment we live in. So what if landfills are overflowing and productions processes are toxic. As long as money is being made, in the eyes of the corporation, the future is seen as bright.

These are a few reasons why the love of money is considered to be the root of all evil. The pursuit of wealth enhances qualities like greed and selfishness, transforming them into behaviors many of us regard as normal, both stereotyped and cliché.

Please Sign On The Dotted Line

2010-04-16T15:55:00.000-07:00

Most of us think of a contract as a piece of paper such as a lease, an automotive loan or a mortgage. Typically, these are all written agreements and when signed by all parties, they are legally binding. And not to forget the verbal agreement, which is also enforceable by law but can’t be used to amend anything in writing.

But there is a third agreement that most of us never consider. The tacit agreement. Webster defines “tacit” as follows:

1 : expressed or carried on without words or speech.
2 : implied or indicated (as by an act or by silence) but not actually expressed .

While we may not be aware of it, each of us has repeatedly entered into and broken tacit agreements. The behavior is a source of arguments and discontent everywhere. Just because we didn’t write it or speak it aloud doesn’t mean we didn’t agree to it. I liken it to co-signing. Most co-signers don’t expect to honor the agreement. They’re just co-signing to provide an opportunity for someone otherwise unable to enter an agreement. In reality, a co-signer, when he or she signs on the dotted line, is also in agreement that they will abide by the terms.

A common tacit agreement, which is frequently breached of course involves exclusivity in dating. Oftentimes in the early stages of a relationship, there is an unspoken agreement of monogamy. But an opportunist, if he or she chooses, will use the fact of it being unspoken to breach the agreement and see other people. Yes, both parties assume monogamy but because it is tacit, a get out of jail free card isn’t hard to come by. Many times people like to hold off on the “exclusivity talk” because it offers a loophole to the tacit agreement.

Several years ago, I remember feeling annoyed with one of my best friends because we only spoke if I called. But the truth is this dynamic had existed for years. Looking back, I now realize I had entered a tacit agreement that I would be the one calling. I had co-signed on the unspoken dotted line and it wasn’t fair of me to be upset about something to which we had both agreed. Ironically, I tacitly changed the agreement by curtailing my calls and transforming the relationship into one that didn’t seem so one-sided.

Each of us should endeavor to look at distasteful relationship dynamics and recognize whether or not we co-signed for undesired behavior. In many circumstances we will find we have, in which case we will need to renegotiate the deal. This can be done tacitly, but is probably better when spoken. And for the real sticklers, the written agreement is always an option.

Don't Get It Twisted

2010-03-30T21:40:00.000-07:00

Months ago, I decided to stop following news on health care reform. It just seemed too much of a circus. Each week, if not each day, the media flip-flopped, portraying different angles on the story. It’s going to pass. It's not going to pass. It’s going to pass. At the end of the day it was dizzying and left me with that childhood feeling of “eeny meeny miny moe.” If reform of any kind were going to occur, it seemed it would only be on the luck of a draw.

The whole debacle left me questioning our politics and more importantly our value system. How did the things we care about become so unforgivably skewed? I remember when Janet Jackson performed at the 2004 Super Bowl and exposed her breast. It turned the media on its head forcing networks everywhere to be super diligent about language and nudity.

I find it peculiar that the human form and unsavory language are such magnets for outrage, but violence is seen as completely acceptable. Just last week, I turned on the TV while eating lunch and stumbled onto the movie “30 Days of Night.” The film was nearly over, but I’d flipped to it just in time to see someone being decapitated. By American standards, images of murder and dismemberment on the airwaves [at noon] are not seen as problematic, but the sight of a nipple or the utterance of a curse word cannot be tolerated. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this seems a little backwards if not ludicrous.

Now that the health care bill has passed outraged opponents have attempted chaos with random acts of vandalism and incivility. There was even talk of death threats against democrats who had voted for the bill. Are these the actions and values of a supposed civilized world?

Before the bill’s passage, political respect, courtesy and diplomacy seemed to have flown out of the window. Consider Congressman Randy Neugebauer’s uncontrolled outburst when he yelled out “Baby Killer!” during a fellow congressman’s speech. Or even more egregious when the president was interrupted by Congressman Joe Wilson yelling out “You lie!” How do we, as a society, foster respect for one another when our political “leaders” lack it toward each other? It’s disturbing to live in a population where so many people are supportive or apathetic toward something like war, but when it comes to universal health care they become proactive and put their foot down to say no.

Not too long ago, I was engaged in a conversation about relationships and the idea was thrown out, “Is it better to be right or to be happy?” I didn’t immediately grasp the concept of this idea, but I understand it today. We sometimes become so focused on being right that we end up compromising not only the integrity of the relationship, but also of the issue at hand. No one is happy (including us) but then we grasp at straws trying to take solace in the fact that we at least proved ourselves right.

Backwards? Ludicrous maybe?

Cracking The Shell

2010-02-04T08:00:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, I received some very unintentional training from my parents. They had this way of saying, “Don’t tell anyone” about events that were occurring in our lives. I remember them looking at new cars and saying, “We’re thinking of buying a car, but don’t tell anyone.” Around the same time, they wanted to rip out our back yard and install a pool. The story then became, “We’re thinking of getting a swimming pool, but don’t tell anyone.” And then the biggest “don’t tell anyone” came when I was twelve and we moved to West Africa where my father had taken a job. Years prior to that, he had discussed the idea and of course my instructions were “We’re thinking of moving to Africa, but don’t tell anyone.” For the most part, I obeyed these requests, but later resented them. These were events that also affected my life, but I was being asked to withhold them. It took me until college to realize I had grown into a secretive, young man. And it’s not that I had any secrets of note, but I had become a withholder with regard to what was going on in my life.

The irony is, years later, my mother would always tell me “You never talk.” And she was right. I could sense when she was trying to get me to open up and even though I was making an effort, I was still aware that from her point of view, it was like pulling teeth.

Luckily, this behavior never interfered with my ability to make friends, but it certainly got in the way of me forming intimate relationships on either romantic or platonic levels. For over a decade, I struggled to break out of the shell I’d formed and I’m happy to report that many years ago, I did break down many of those walls. I successfully jumped from the team of withholders and am now a proud member of “team-communicators.” And believe me, life, love and relationships of all kinds are much more fulfilling when you’re a communicator.

The more I’ve opened up, the more obvious it becomes who the withholders are. I have friends who I can talk to for an hour and still not have any idea what’s going on in their lives. These are withholders. Withholding actually requires quite a bit of energy and skill, but at the end of the day, it’s exhausting. A communicator’s life is much easier because there is no need to build walls and create smoke screens.

And withholders, no matter how good they are, should know they will rarely fool a communicator. Most communicators were at one time withholders. We know the tricks of the trade and we’re just waiting for you to tear down the walls, which only you can do. We know a withholder will never switch teams until he or she decides it’s the right time. And even then it takes a tremendous amount of work. If you are a withholder and you know it, start the work now. Give some thought to the team you’re playing on and ask yourself is it the one to which you’d like to belong?

House Of Cards

2010-01-25T16:02:00.000-08:00

Shortly after high school, one of my good friends called to let me know she had visited a psychic. She was freaked because the woman she consulted with seemed to know so much about her personal life. At the time, and for many years to come, I was afraid of psychics. I didn’t want anyone telling me things I didn’t want to know. And there was also the question of fraudulence. Had I even wanted to see a psychic, how would I know if they were the real deal or just some charlatan trying to make a buck?

Fast forward to 2006. It was a Saturday night and I had agreed to meet my friend Tim at a popular Hollywood club. As is my M.O., I was running late, but I knew it didn’t matter. Tim is a big boy and very sociable. When I finally walked in around twenty minutes late, I found Tim talking to a group of four or five people. There were two from New York who were visiting a friend who had just moved to Los Angeles. Tim introduced me to the group and pointed out that one of his new friends was psychic. A million questions ran through my mind, but the first was, “How did Tim already find this out?” I hadn’t been that late, so clearly the cute and bubbly girl had used this information as an icebreaker.

After Tim declared, “She says she’s psychic,” I didn’t really know what to say. There was an awkward silence as I wondered how to turn this news into a conversation. The pregnant pause floated and then I rebounded with a question, “So what is it you see when you’re having a psychic episode?” I wish I could remember her answer, but the truth is I don’t. The setting seemed wrong for such a conversation. The club was fairly crowded and dark except for the laser light display. All of us were standing beside the bar, on the edge of the dance floor and the music was loud. By the time she answered, I had already judged that she was young and kooky, so I didn’t pay much attention to her response.

Eventually, Tim and I broke away and as was our custom, we closed down the club. After management had evacuated patrons from the venue, we stood outside talking. Little did I know I had received my first unofficial psychic reading. Apparently, while I was chatting with some of Tim’s new acquaintances, the psychic girl had informed him that there was an extremely dark energy going on with me, so much so that she asked Tim not to mention it. For some reason, she thought there was something going on with my grandfather (or that he had just died), but both of my parents’ fathers had passed away decades before my birth. I must admit I was annoyed and dismissed everything the girl said as trickery and buffoonery. I told Tim she was probably just using the conversation to flirt with him. Later, when Tim and I finally parted ways, I drove home thinking this is why I never wanted to see a psychic, for fear of being told something negative.

About a year later, I was visited by darkness and negativity. First, I was diagnosed with a rare form of thyroid cancer and while I was battling it, my mother passed away. In many ways I felt as if I had been thrown into the abyss. And the memory of Tim recounting the young girl’s story resurfaced. I wondered if this was the darkness she had (fore)seen.

In October of last year, on the recommendation of a friend, I sent my birth date to a reader of tarot. I never heard back from him nor did I reach out to him again. And then last Thursday, I received a call from the reader apologizing for taking so long. He had suffered a lot of personal problems and my reading had fallen off of his priority list. As such he had repeated another reading just before calling me. It is funny how the universe works. Just that week, I was suffering through quite a bit of personal turmoil and his call could not have come at a better time. Amazingly, he began to describe the exact situation that was causing me anguish and proceeded to talk in specifics about other issues that were going on in my life. At one point I was almost shaking from his accuracy. At the end of the call, I felt more peaceful and I thanked him for taking so long to get back to me. In some way, the reading of my cards had created order in the chaos.

For over a year now, I have had a deck of tarot cards at my house. I have two books on how to read them, but my study of them wasn’t all that eye opening. The main thing I do remember from one of the books is that tarot can be used to make sense of all of the chaos. And certainly all of us can use a little of that.

Sticks And Stones And Broken Bones

2010-01-18T08:23:00.000-08:00

Over the holidays I had friends visiting from Paris. Unfortunately, they flew in on the eve of Atlanta’s first winter snowstorm. At most there was maybe an inch of accumulation, which immediately began to melt. But this is where the real problem began. The combination of melting snow and freezing temperatures meant ice was forming to create extremely hazardous sidewalks and roads.

The following day, and against my better judgment, I ventured out with my guests. It was extremely cold, but sunny. Even though temperatures were well below freezing, the sun managed to dissolve much of the ice. The highways were fairly open and surprisingly safe. My first thoughts were it’s not as bad as I imagined, but that was only until we reached downtown. Because there are much taller buildings there, many of the streets are caught in the shadows of skyscrapers around them. To my dismay, these streets were covered in ice. At one point, I turned the car off of a perfectly clear street not realizing the block I was turning onto was slick with black ice. The car began sliding even though I had firmly applied the breaks. Luckily I was able to coast down into an area where I regained traction. I tried paying closer attention and successfully parked at our intended destination – The Georgia Aquarium.

Well, this is where the real trouble started. Once we left the parking structure, we found ourselves surrounded by a thin layer of snow and ice. We tiptoed ever closer to the aquarium entrance and then, when we were just across the street, one of my friends slipped and fell. As I watched, I prayed that she hadn’t hurt herself, but her face twisted in pain. The first words out of her mouth were “I really hurt my arm,” and when she pulled up her sleeve, I had a sinking feeling. The contours of her right arm (and she is right handed) were slightly off.

We gathered her up as she grimaced. The impact of the fall hadn’t seemed terribly bad, so each of us began speculating as to what could have happened to make her arm appear quite so tweaked. Maybe she had dislocated her wrist (is this possible?) We wanted it to be something simple or at least less severe than a break, but in my gut I have to admit I felt it was broken.

After several hours in the ER, we were informed that Camille had indeed broken her arm just above the wrist. It is a sensitive area, which can affect the mobility of the hand. The important thing was getting her the care she needed, but the issues of our current healthcare system came to light. Camille is French and receives her healthcare through the French system. She did not have travel insurance and was therefore not armed with any kind of policy that would cover her care under the American system.

As we all know, Obama is struggling to reform healthcare in the U.S. When I hear people fighting against reform, I fear they have never needed serious care, which I have unfortunately needed in the past. Through my own experiences, I have witnessed first hand how ridiculous and unpleasant our current system can be. Should anyone think we are not in need of reform, I am here to say you stand corrected.

Imagine how disheartening it is to be suffering from a serious illness and have the first question asked of you, “do you have insurance?” Each time we are handed a clipboard of paperwork and asked to sign on the dotted line as a promise to pay should our insurance companies choose not to. The protocol demonstrates what the main focus of our industry is; the almighty dollar and the bottom line. Psychologically, it doesn’t instill confidence. The inherent message is that the actual care is secondary to primary financial concerns.

And what makes our current system even more ridiculous is that no one (but the insurance companies) seems to understand what the actual prices are. In the past six months, I have had various lab work done. At the end of these visits, I was sent to a cashier to settle my charges. Each time, I was shown a breakdown of services rendered and it was then explained to me what portion I was responsible for. I was flabbergasted as, on some occasions, I was asked to pay upwards of $400. I always opt to be billed because the actual invoices never correspond to the figures given to me at the cashier. Without fail, they have always been a fraction of what I was originally asked to pay. Apparently, even the actual providers are unaware of the discounts negotiated by the insurance companies, meaning their calculations and the insurance companies’ rarely correspond. Truthfully, I have no idea how today’s politicians are calculating the supposed costs of healthcare when our very own health professionals don’t know really know the numbers.

While my friends were visiting, I felt envious of their system. Rarely are they asked to pay anything when injured or ill and they aren’t made to feel that their ability to pay has bearing on the quality of care they will receive. And when they do have to pay something, it is generally a small and well known, quantifiable amount.

I hope one day our system can be reformed so a patient’s care will be the primary focus rather than how it will be paid for. As long as our system is seen as a lucrative venture for doctors and insurance companies rather than a healing one for patients, it will ultimately be the patient who suffers.

Avatar: Opening Pandora's Box

2010-01-13T13:31:00.000-08:00

Lord knows Hollywood has provided us with enough “Great White Hope” stories to last a lifetime. Just to name a few are:

The Substitute (with Tom Berenger)
Dangerous Minds (with Michelle Pfeiffer)
Losing Isaiah (with Susan Sarandon)
Dances With Wolves (with Kevin Costner)
The Last Samurai (with Tom Cruise)
The Missing (with Tommy Lee Jones)

In each of the above-mentioned movies, Caucasian characters are the rescuers of the downtrodden people of color. Such movies often bring Hollywood under fire for perpetuating racist stereotypes, mainly that people of color cannot rescue themselves without help from their fairer skinned counterparts.

The latest movie to come under fire for perpetuating such stereotypes is James Cameron’s “Avatar.” In the following article, the movie is panned for carrying racist themes:

http://movies.yahoo.com/news/movies.ap.org/some-see-racist-theme-alien-adventure-avatar-ap

I must admit before seeing Avatar, I was fearful of it not living up to its hype. There was such buzz about the film and then its early reviews (or at least the ones I read) were lackluster at best. In the last year (or two), I have found Hollywood movies quite disappointing. I wanted Avatar to wow me, but suspected my fears of it not measuring up were well founded.

A few days after its opening, I convinced a friend to see it in 2-D. It had been over a decade since I’d seen anything in 3-D and frankly, I wasn’t excited about things jumping out of the screen at me. Once inside the film, I realized I’d made a tactical error by not seeing it in 3-D. The colors and tapestry of Pandora are so rich and beautiful that you won’t want to miss even the tiniest of details. Within minutes of it starting, I knew I would have to see it again in 3-D.

Never before have I seen so many reviewers completely miss the boat. The reviews I read said the action was bogged down by a love story that didn’t work. They of course compared Avatar to Cameron’s earlier blockbuster “Titanic,” taking time to outline why Avatar’s love story was in no way comparable to the one that worked in Titanic.

Well, I am here to respectfully dispute all negative reviews that I’ve read of this movie. Avatar’s love story worked perfectly. And anyone who believes that it didn’t, or that racist themes are included in the movie has failed to comprehend Cameron’s brilliance.

Yes, Avatar’s main character, Jake Sully, is Caucasian, but he is not the rescuer of Pandora’s people of color. To think this is erroneous. In fact, it is quite the opposite in Avatar. Jake Sully’s journey is toward one of enlightenment. When the film begins, he belongs to a society of lost souls whose destructive nature will stop at nothing in their pursuit of wealth. Jake Sully’s people (and that’s us, folks) have ruined Earth, which is why they are on Pandora in the first place – to exploit it. Sully and people like him will sacrifice all in the name of greed. In fact, fighting for such causes has cost Sully the use of his legs and he is confined to a wheelchair. But he is only promised to have his legs restored, a technology, which exists, if he further compromises himself by participating in the destruction of yet another world.

Like most people on his team, Jake Sully is completely disconnected from his true role in nature. As such, he is by no means a rescuer. It is in fact the people of color who rescue him from a life of ignorance and miseducation. It is only through their eyes that he can truly see reality as it is, rather than as it is told to him. And yes, such an awakening is only accomplished through love of some kind.

Avatar is not an action-adventure movie; it is the story of Jake Sully’s path toward enlightenment. Once Sully’s eyes are opened, he becomes a crusader for truth and justice. But his complete transformation cannot take place in his original Caucasian body because that version of Jake Sully is both physically and spiritually corrupted. Jake Sully’s soul is only fully redeemed when he is removed from his former broken body and placed in his Avatar’s body as a fully enlightened individual.

Does Avatar have racist themes? Not at all. If you haven’t seen Avatar yet, see it in 3-D.

Just today, I saw this article, which is also quite interesting:

http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Movies/01/11/avatar.movie.blues/index.html

Here's What I Intend To Do About It!

2010-01-04T14:56:00.000-08:00

Many people find it difficult to manage the end-of-the-year holidays. The days are shorter, which gives everyone the perception of being rushed or hurried. And in many places, cold, dreary weather is also something to contend with. Add to the mix shopping, gift giving, party planning, friends and relatives, and it’s oftentimes a recipe for stress. For most of us, the finish line is the first of January. It is only then that we can safely say we passed through it all.

January 1st, 2010 came and went. I woke up leisurely, meditated and then made breakfast. My normal New Year’s routine would have been to make a bunch of calls to family and friends, but this year I wasn’t feeling it. I received a few calls before breakfast. Afterwards, I finished watching “Brothers,” which I don’t recommend and then I watched a lot of commercials while flipping through channels on TV.

In the late afternoon, I finally decided to place a few calls. One of my friends answered sounding completely drained, if not depressed. I knew the easy answer for his tone of voice was a late night, crazy New Year’s Eve party, but I suspected this wasn’t the case. When I inquired, he explained many of life’s difficulties. Things from relatives with health issues to the challenges of growing old gracefully, or sometimes not so gracefully. I could hear both worry and concern in his voice and I sympathized, but I also grew impatient. After he had confided a series of predicaments and situations I simply asked, “What are you going to do about these things?”

The sad truth is there are rules to this life and many of them are beyond our control. Regardless of how hard we try, we will all grow old and illnesses will occur even to those with the healthiest of lifestyles. Tsunamis, earthquakes and tornadoes are things we read about every day. Yes, we can talk of how horrible these things are, but the proof of our spirits is in action. If tragedy and calamity visit our homes, to ponder and talk about them accomplishes nothing. The question we need ask ourselves is “what are we going to do about it?” I am happy to say my friend did have a action plan by the time we finished speaking and I can only hope knowing what to do helped ease his distress.

As we ease into 2010, I am left to ponder my own issues and what I intend to do about them. Whether it’s to build or resolve something, we are all constantly affronted with a myriad of decisions we must make. What we choose to do is always the answer. May each of your choices be fruitful now and throughout the year to come.

Peace and blessings for a prosperous 2010!

Strength, Courage & Transformation

2009-12-31T19:09:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-10T14:26:00.000-08:00

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’d 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.

Well, at that point, the story got even more interesting. A few minutes after they had 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 woman has judged and practically damned this model to hell, but then when she moved to discuss her own life, it already seemed seedier than walking down a 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.

Earlier this year, I attended a silent 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, 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.

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.

Dress Rehearsal of Life

2009-11-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-11-23T14:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-21T15:58:00.000-08:00

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?

To Tell the Blurry Truth

2009-11-12T17:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-06T16:13:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-10-31T18:32:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-29T14:37:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-14T07:19:00.000-07:00

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???

2009-10-09T09:57:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-10-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-09-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-22T11:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-09T11:11:00.001-07:00

During the 80’s while I was still in high school, I remembered 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 Joe Brown.” 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.

Time is Like The Clock in My Heart

2009-09-04T13:51:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-29T14:53:00.000-07:00

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

The Truth Hurts

2009-08-26T16:42:00.000-07:00

On many occasions I have heard that the world we live in is one of delusion, but the true ramifications of this statement were confusing to me. It is only in the last year and a half that I have begun to understand it intellectually. Many years ago, science confirmed that everything we know is made up of protons and electrons. It is all energy. This is at the center of the “world is delusion” concept. Although we see a chair, it is energy. Although we see a wine glass, it is energy. Delusion is what allows us to live in the physical world. It is the construct that makes life as we know it possible, but wouldn’t it be in our best interest if the delusion ended there? I’m here to argue a resounding yes, but as we all know, this is far from the truth. The reality is we are living in delusion in virtually every aspect of our lives.

My challenge to anyone reading this blog is that you might begin looking throughout your own lives to find the areas of delusion and to unveil them. Much of the world’s history is delusion. Did Columbus discover America? Not so much. There were entire civilizations already established in the Americas before Columbus’ arrival. Shouldn’t they take credit for the discovery? And the truth is, Columbus was looking for Asia, and apparently wasn’t the best of navigators.

Certainly, there are hundreds of historical accounts, which are simply nothing but delusion. But how does this relate to our lives you might ask? The pattern is how it relates. When we establish patterns of delusion, we are then prevented from seeing any truths, which in turn prevents us from self-actualizing. In other words, how do we become real people while refusing to accept truth over delusion?

I am sure anyone who has ever been in a failed relationship can attest to the delusions they suffered at the beginning of the relationship. Oftentimes, when we look back in time, we can see the things we refused to see when we were in the moment. The things we knew we couldn’t live with presented themselves in obvious ways, but we chose to ignore or rationalize them. Wouldn’t our relationships and lives be better, stronger and faster, if we acknowledged these things early on?

Right now, a political hot button is health care and Obama’s plans to reform. I am here to say that being uninsured is only half of the health care crisis. As a health insured cancer survivor, I can attest to the real crisis in health care. There simply aren’t many doctors who have a clue as to what it is they are doing. Over a year ago, I underwent radiation therapy and the answers I received to my questions were laughable. I was suffering some of the most miserable of side effects and when I asked, “How do we know if this is working,” I was given one of the most defensive of answers. In my mind, this was a reasonable question. I wanted to know if my suffering would be worth the end result. My doctor quickly snipped, “I am 52 years old and I am not answering that question.” The sad truth is he didn’t know the answer. In fact, doctors rarely know if radiation therapy is working. Just like the patient, they just cross their fingers and hope for the best. Had I known the reality of health care back when I was diagnosed, I would have made very different decisions for my treatment. In truth, knowing what I know now, I would not have had radiation, or even surgery for that matter.

When you begin demystifying the areas of delusion in your own lives, you will see the same phenomenon taking place. Your decision making skills will sharpen and much of life’s confusion will begin to dissipate. Oh what a wonderful world it will be on the other side of that veil.

Do You Love What You Feel?

2009-08-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, one of my older cousins warned me about a family trait. She said I should be careful because most everyone in the family [on my mother’s side] was very sensitive. Truthfully, I didn’t understand why this was an issue, so I respectfully asked her to elaborate. She clarified that because we were sensitive, we were more susceptible to physical manifestations being tied to our emotional state. In other words, when we get upset, we get sick. During this conversation, I immediately harkened back to the first time I saw “Dangerous Liaisons” with John Malkovich and Michelle Pfeiffer. In the movie, John Malkovich’s character persuaded Michelle Pfeiffer to fall in love with him, but here’s the catch. If you saw the movie you will recall, he did this on a bet. Once he was successful in making her fall in love, he jilted her after which she fell gravely ill. At the time, I didn’t understand the story point. I didn’t understand how such an event could bring someone so close to death’s door. Well, today I understand it is through extreme sensitivity.

For a brief time, my cousin’s warning instilled a sense of fear in me. Just a few years before, one of our aunts had suffered an emotional breakdown and landed herself in the hospital. She never came out. I wholeheartedly believe that she suffered a similar circumstance to Michelle Pfeiffer’s character in Dangerous Liaisons. An emotional disturbance fully pushed her over the edge and she was unable to bounce back. The more I thought about it, I began to agree with my cousin. I do come from a long line of sensitive people. And truthfully, there are just as many sensitive folk on my father’s side of the family tree. I, in fact, had a double whammy of the sensitive gene.

Over several days, I reflected on my cousin’s words and then I had an epiphany. Sensitivity is only a weakness when you don’t understand or know how to use it. It is only a weakness when you choose to view the world as a victim. In “Dangerous Liaisons,” Michelle Pfeiffer’s character viewed herself as a victim. She had fallen in love only to be rejected. But there are others ways to use a sensitive nature. The canary in the mineshaft is more sensitive than the miner. The delicate bird only becomes a victim because he is caged. Were it not for the cage, he would fly out leaving the less sensitive miners to fend for themselves.

The cage we live in is society telling us we are weak if we are sensitive. We are told we should develop “thick skin” because it can be a cruel world. But this thinking is flawed. What should be developed is a way to get rid of the cruelty. Developing “thick skins” is miseducation that only perpetuates an insensitive world.

Over the last few years, I have learned to develop my sensitivity. In fact, I now see it as one of my biggest strengths, and on several occasions it has provided me with what one might call uncanny abilities. Ones I hesitate to talk about for fear you might think I’m a little crazy. When I allow myself to remain open to my feelings, all kinds of information are conveyed to me that others fail to see. When I realize how to use this information, it serves me well. I try to listen to the cues and then make appropriate decisions based upon them. It is only when I choose to ignore or suppress my sensitivity that I fall victim to the physical manifestations that my cousin warned me about.

My best advice to all is to free yourselves from the cage. When the oxygen in the mineshaft is no longer sufficient, listen to your sensitivity and fly, fly away!

My Bread And Butter

2009-08-17T16:02:00.000-07:00

Over the last month, my kitchen has become a veritable workshop. I have quite wisely invested in a bread maker, an ice cream maker and I am currently shopping around for a juicer. I decided to make these purchases after I began reading the labels of things in the grocery store.

There’s a strange phenomenon in our society that most of us probably never pay attention to. It seems we are constantly fighting to have things other than how they are. If we are fat, we have surgeries to make us skinny. If we are old, we have surgeries to help us appear young. So much of our reality is tainted by a desire to have things how we would like them to be, and this is oftentimes to our own detriment.

Once I began reading labels, I realized our food had largely become tainted by this behavior. For example, why are food dyes so pervasive? Red meat is dyed so it appears more aesthetically pleasing. Salmon, my favorite fish, is dyed for the same reason. Recently, while in Whole Foods, I inquired why all of the farmed salmon had been dyed. The man behind the counter pointed out a fish that resembled farmed salmon without the dye. It was a beige color and in no way resembled wild caught salmon. Then I began to understand. Not many people would buy farmed salmon if they saw it presented in a shade of beige. But isn’t this false advertising? Shouldn’t we be allowed to decide what we want based on how it really is? Isn’t this the premise of the free market system that demand will determine supply? Is it fair to deceive us into believing that farmed salmon is equivalent to wild caught salmon even though the two hardly resemble one another? Needless to say, farmed salmon will no longer be on my grocery list.

Another food I’ve been paying more attention to is yoghurt. When Yoplait first entered the market, I thought it was great -- many flavors, great consistency. For years I had Yoplait stocked in my refrigerator and then I educated myself on what real yoghurt is. Real yoghurt has a very different consistency from Yoplait and is made with milk and yoghurt cultures. Yoplait uses gelatin instead to achieve its consistency. But then I ask the question, “Is it really yoghurt?”

So many of our foods are loaded with artificial colors and flavors. Our fruits are made shiny with waxes, and fragrance is sometimes added just in case we couldn’t smell what the manufacturers wanted us to. When I contemplate how much effort is put into these foods, I find it odd that organic foods are pricier, but that also gives me a good idea of just how far we have strayed from the natural path.

Now that I am making homemade bread, I also decided to try my hand at making butter. It’s actually quite easy. And now that I realize how homemade butter is supposed to look, it’s clear that many store bought brands have thrown in a little yellow dye for my dining pleasure. Personally, I don’t want these additives in my food. Once I made a decision to buy products that excluded these ingredients, I began reading labels more carefully. The more I read, the more I realized how limited my choices were. There are very few “clean foods” available in large grocery store chains. But all is not lost. I have learned just how easy it is to make many staples in my own kitchen. In truth, that is the only way I can be sure of the purity I desire. Also, I am a firm believer that we vote with our dollars. Until I am comfortable that the foods I can buy in the store are clean, I will attempt to make them in my own home. Once again, I suggest you consider doing the same.

A Party of One!

2009-08-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

Here’s an opinion question: Are we meant to be alone? Or maybe I should specify: Are we meant to be alone right now? I only ask because oftentimes people refer to cycles when it comes to certain behaviors. For example, I have heard that fashions resurface every twenty-five years. Or financial masterminds claim that economies cycle through booms and recessions regardless of who is in office. And certainly relationships also go through cycles. I am beginning to suspect we have entered a phase in which relationships are not meant to work. Most of my friends who are in couples are either breaking it off, or they are being dumped. If anyone else has noticed this strange phenomenon, please let me know. I would love to hear your thoughts.

It wasn’t until a few months ago that I noticed this trend. I had traveled to Europe where my cousin was still suffering the after effects of a failed relationship. And another British friend was suffering from continuing to be in one. The latter has since broken it off although his ex is refusing to leave. For several months, he has remained stuck beneath the same roof unable to fully move on with his life.

After I returned from Europe, another good friend made his intentions known that he would break off his relationship. Then two weeks ago, yet another of my friends, who was recently engaged, informed me that her fiancé had broken it off. This after only a few weeks of having purchased the rings. And then continuing the trend, last week I received an email that another set of friends had decided to end their relationship and separate. You would think I could end there, but there is more. Another married friend is struggling inside of her marriage. While I hate to say it, if she took the Magic 8 Ball and shook it up, it would probably say “Too early to tell.” So, the verdict is still out on that one.

I could continue speaking of failing relationships within my periphery, but the eternal optimist in me has another theory on what is actually taking place. In speaking of cycles, we are rumored to be moving into a new one. Spiritually minded people believe the world is transitioning into a period of enlightenment and self-discovery. In other words we are evolving. Because we have learned to interact with one another in very rigid ways, many people will find this evolution very painful. Especially if you are resistant to change, which most of us are. If we are to evolve, we must look within ourselves for the keys toward that evolution. I suspect this new cycle necessitates the break up of relationships, as most people would find self-discovery very difficult while struggling with the distractions of a significant other.

The key thing to remember is that we must embrace change. It is coming regardless of our readiness. If we are to evolve, openness to change is essential whether within a couple or alone. When things are good, it is often because we have learned to grow together. Other times, when things don’t seem so great, it is because we have fallen out of synch. This is when we find ourselves troubled and in distress. But don’t despair. A failing relationship doesn’t necessarily mean bad news. In truth, it only means that pain and struggling is meant to be a part of our growth process. When we take the time to look at the big picture, we will understand this. We will realize there are no mistakes, nor are there any victims.

Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving…

2009-08-10T09:26:00.000-07:00

Last week I attended a career exploration seminar. The workshop required us all to take a test, which asked a series of preference questions. Things like “When you attend a party, do you prefer to mingle around the room or to stay in a small group of close friends?”

The test is devised to profile your personality preferences. Those preferences are then used to predict what kinds of jobs you are best suited for. For example, if you are an extremely extroverted person, it is assumed you will prefer jobs around people vs. sitting at a computer alone. Some of the categories described in the profiles are as follows:

1 Extroverted (E) or Introverted (I)
2 Sensing (S) or Intuitive (N)
3 Thinking (T) or Feeling (F)
4 Judging (J) or Perceiving (P)

To clarify some of the above categories, “sensing” people see the world through their senses and can describe things in particular detail exactly as they observed them. “Intuitive” people see the world in the bigger picture describing things as they related to them emotionally. For example, a sensing person would describe a mugger in detail while an intuitive person might describe them as “scary.”

Judging people are regimented and structured while perceiving people are spontaneous and carefree.

The course leader asked us to guess the results of our assessment. I found that easy and assumed my results would be introverted, intuitive, thinking and judging or INTJ. To my shock, my results came back as ENFP!!! The results are also given in degrees. Mine said I was clearly an extrovert. What?! I was somewhat floored as I sat contemplating these results. Could I possibly be an extrovert? Yes, it’s true, I enjoy the company of friends and family, but alone time doesn’t bother me in the least. In fact, I need alone time in order to remain centered. After I left this class, I ran my results by a few people who know me. Each of them said I seem very comfortable in social situations and meeting new people. Does that make me an extrovert? Perhaps it does, but I’m still working it out.

While I find the premise of the preference test fascinating, I have to admit it is not as fine-tuned as it could be. The questions were all multiple choice and several of them didn’t provide answers that accurately described me. I was left to pick an answer that best approximated my feelings even if it wasn’t an accurate reflection of my actual preferences.

The most interesting result of the assessment was that it got us to consider the truth about ourselves. If I am truly an extrovert, getting comfortable in this role will be important for my growth as a person. One of the other participants tested as a “feeling” person whereas he thought he would fall into the “thinking” category. As it turned out, he associated “feeling” with wimpiness. Without knowing him well, and from what I observed, I would definitely categorize him as feeling. And this isn’t to say I thought he was wimpy, but the feeling role may be one he needs to get comfortable with. Reality is always a much better understanding of the world than delusion. In a peculiar way, the seminar was like a mini therapy session for everyone who didn’t test the way they had anticipated. And any time we can walk away from an experience knowing ourselves a little better than we did before… well, then that’s a good day!

Worry Is Your Mantra

2009-08-06T13:24:00.000-07:00

For nearly two years, I have wanted to practice the mantra. Somehow, I knew there was value in it even if I didn’t understand what that value was. Last March, I attended a Buddhist retreat and for the first time I began practicing the mantra. I wrote the mantra over and over. I spoke the mantra over and over. During the retreat, I noticed many of the participants held these tiny digital devices. During our meals, they were very social, but periodically they clicked these devices. I soon learned they were digital counters so they could keep track of how many times they repeated the mantra. For the seasoned participants, the goal was to repeat the mantra 10,000 times per day! On my good days, I maybe made it to 500.

Today while running, I wrote a new mantra for myself:

Please, God, help me to take away my anger
Help me to purify my soul
Teach me to be loving to my fellow man

The theory behind the mantra is that its power can be unlocked through repetition. The more you write and repeat it, the more it gains in strength. After I finished reciting the above mantra a few hundred times, it occurred to me, worry is our mantra. Each time we worry, we are silently repeating a mantra of negativity and most of us don’t even know it. For example, if my car makes a noise it’s never made before, I begin to worry. “What if it’s about to break down? What if I get stranded somewhere I don’t want to be? What if it costs too much money to fix?” From then on, I become hyper alert. Every time I hear a strange noise, negative feelings are reinforced. It is the power of a silent mantra being recited in my head. A worry mantra is very powerful and can successfully create illness in the worrier. Even if illness doesn’t occur, a worry mantra can spread misery from the worrier to anyone nearby.

Whenever we begin to worry, we should practice a positive mantra even if it is just to counteract the negativity that is naturally occurring in our brains. And please don’t mistake my message for something it is not. A mantra cannot prevent bad things from happening, but it can totally flavor and change our reactions to the things we cannot control.

Please, God, help me to take away my anger
Help me to purify my soul
Teach me to be loving to my fellow man

BUY! BUY! BUY!

2009-07-28T09:35:00.000-07:00

A year and a half ago, my mother passed away, and shortly before that, she had relocated from California to Georgia. Once I pulled myself together (sort of), I boarded a plane and traveled to her new house just north of Atlanta where I began trying to settle her estate.

After arriving, I walked through her house, doing a quick mental inventory of what my mother had chosen to bring from her old place to the new one. Many of her personal effects held sentimental value for me. There was a stained glass cat that was very kitsch by today’s standards, but it had been around since before I could remember. It may have even predated me. At the end of my walk-through, I immediately began feeling overwhelmed. Dozens of pieces of artwork covered the walls. All of the rooms were quite well furnished, and the master bedroom led to a huge walk in closet that was packed with clothes. In addition to the master closet, there was another room where a ten-foot closet was filled with suits and coats. Although she had been living in this house for nearly a year and a half, there were at least four large boxes in the garage that were full of unpacked clothes. It was a lifetime full of things, and for the first time I questioned “Why do we accumulate so much?”

Coincidentally, my mother and I had moved during the same week a few years before. I thought of all the things I had chosen to take with me to my new place. Because I was only moving across town (and not out-of-state), I transported many of my clothes in large trash bags. There were at least 24 bags full of clothes! Slowly, I began opening my eyes to my own behavior. Having grown up in a consumer society, I had been well trained to believe I was supposed to “want” things. Trust me, this programming was successful. I can only estimate that I transported nearly forty pairs of shoes. Some of them I would never wear again, but because they were in such good condition, I couldn’t bear to throw them out. I had not only become a serial consumer, I was displaying pack-rat behavior as well. Suddenly, I envied my favorite cousin who had a rack of clothes in his room. He never accumulated more than his rack could hold. When it began to get tight, he would do a large throw out to make space. Each time I tried to throw things out, I met myself with reluctance, thus twenty-four trash bags of clothes!

Slowly, I have opened my eyes to my shameless consumption. So many of us are guilty of it. Each time we buy a magazine, there are more advertisements than there are articles. Purses, watches, colognes, perfumes, clothing, electronics, and the list goes on. And truthfully, I don’t mind admitting sometimes the advertisements are more clever and interesting than the articles. And if I close the magazine and by chance turn on the television, I am bombarded with commercials. Hair dyes, skin care products, cosmetics, beer, household cleaners, and again the list goes on. Each time I open my mailbox, I have a stack of mailers and advertisements even if I don’t have mail! Each time I enter a freeway, billboards keep me company. Nowadays, many of those billboards are huge flat screens so different sellers can share their time on display. I began to realize I am being marketed to no matter where I go. Sometimes public restrooms have tiny billboards or television screens at the urinals, so I can be marketed to while I urinate. And even though I have added my phone number to the “Do Not Call List,” I still incur the occasional telemarketer who reaches me at home. And so begins the accumulation of stuff, most of which I do not need.

Thankfully, I believe the current financial crisis stems from us beginning to change our behavior. Instead of focusing on our wants, there has been a shift. We are now beginning to think more about our needs. This shift has not grown out of choice as much as it has necessity. We have to change if we are to survive ourselves. A few weeks ago, I went to Target and saw a complete display of recyclable batteries. This brought a smile to my face. Having been a marketer myself, I knew it was a no-no to market a product that didn’t bring the buyer back to purchase more. For a marketer, “recyclable” is counter-intuitive, but our thinking has evolved.

Moving forward, my plan is to simplify. I don’t have to shop for gifts when I have a surplus of things already in my house that would be much better utilized by someone else. I am happy to report I haven’t shopped for clothes at all this year. My goal is not to add anything to my wardrobe without sending something I have back out into the market. It is easy to find resell shops where clothes can be recycled into the system. The last few times I bought clothes, I used money made by selling some of my old things! Although it goes against everything I’ve been taught, the less I have, the simpler I find life. And from now on, simplicity is the key!

Are We Killing Ourselves With Convenience?

2009-07-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

The answer to this question is most certainly a resounding yes! Each day, we turn on the TV we can see ads for new innovations. Inventions that are marketed to facilitate our lives. The car is a perfect example. For those of us who have one, it is hard to imagine life without it. Automobiles allow their drivers freedom and independence to come and go as they please. More than thirty years ago, the presence of acid rain became well documented. In some regions, entire lakes have been decimated by toxic precipitation. The effects of automobile emissions have proven extremely detrimental to our environment, such that nations around the world are trying to regulate them to slow global warming.

I remember a time when blow dryers were so trendy; you could find people with virtually no hair blow-drying their coifs every morning. And then it was discovered that asbestos was present in the linings of many dryers. Although this is no longer the case, today we can turn on the television and here about the links between asbestos and mesothelioma, a deadly disease.

Not too long ago, I was trying to convince my mother that she needed a microwave. She resisted for some time, but eventually did get one. Before I knew it, she was microwaving all kinds of things, which by that time made me uncomfortable because I had learned of the dangers. Although they are convenient, one has to be suspicious of the warning not to stand too close while they are in operation. In addition, most plastic containers, when placed inside, leach toxic chemicals into their contents so that we can then eat them!

Cellular phones were once a luxury item, but nowadays your average high school student has a wireless plan. In fact, it’s hard to imagine children without cell phones because in large part they serve as a lifeline to their parents. Still, studies have linked cell phones with brain cancer, and some researches believe cellular signals may be responsible for the disappearance of honeybees, which we definitely need for agricultural purposes. Personally, I don’t believe the honeybee theory, but I do have a theory of my own, which I will discuss shortly.

A few days ago, I was in Whole Foods buying fish. Salmon is one of my favorites, but I wanted wild caught without the presence of dyes. Out of curiosity, I asked the man behind the counter why dye was added. He pointed out another kind of fish with a brownish filet, and said that farmed salmon would be a similar color without the dye. In nature, salmon is a rich, hot pink color, and when farmed it is a brownish color of beige. Hm…

The more I learn about what we do to our foods, the less I have found I am willing to buy. Nowadays, I walk through large chain grocery stores, and see aisles and aisles of unsuitable food. I do not desire the dyes, sugars or preservatives. And while scientists are reluctant to admit it, genetically modified foods are counter-intuitive. Our bodies are designed to digest food using different enzymes and beneficial bacteria. Nevertheless, modern scientists are genetically modifying agricultural products to resist pesky insects. Question? If insects are no longer able to digest these foods, if insects no longer want to touch these foods, what benefit are they in our digestive tracts? Could the disappearance of the bees in some way be related to the emergence of these new crops?

Large corporations have chosen to manipulate our food chain in detrimental ways. As such, I have made a decision to regain control. I recently invested in a bread maker, an ice cream maker, and a juicer. Yesterday, I made my own butter to spread across home made bread.

I once read in a book that humanity would save itself only by returning to the forest. At the time, I found this statement very cryptic, but I now realize its meaning. We will save ourselves by turning away from deadly conveniences. Until I can trust what the corporations have decided I should eat, I will circumvent what they are offering by making my own bread and butters, my own ice creams and juices, and by growing as much of my own produce as I can. And just a word of advice.... I suggest you do the same.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL?

2009-07-20T13:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I did some writing and then hustled over to Piedmont Park to get in a last minute run before dark. There is a great track there that encircles a series of fields where multiple teams can play soccer, baseball and/or kickball. There are also a couple of volleyball courts, which were busy with players battling it out. For my first lap, I walked to warm up and then did some stretching (which I normally rush through). This day, I took my time with the stretching, and then I started my run. I was happy because I often struggle during the first lap, but this time I caught my stride early on.

As I came around for my second 0.7-mile lap, I noticed a man on my right hand side, at the bottom of an embankment. He was beside a gazebo, in an area where people barbecue. At first glance, I thought he was leaning over to drink from a fountain. As I jogged closer, I could see that he wasn’t drinking at all. He was stooped over as if bending down to drink, but there was no fountain. Instead, he was vomiting.

To my horror, he stuck two fingers down his throat and more vomit spewed forth as if from a geyser. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How had I ever thought there was a drinking fountain there? Perhaps I had only seen what I wanted to see.

I quickly looked away, but not before I realized who it was. Nearly every time I visit Piedmont Park, I see a homeless man. He looks to be about 5’10, African-American, thirty-ish, average build, but that was the only thing average about him. All things considered, his clothes weren’t that dirty, but he was not in good shape. His hair is roughly three to four inches long where he has hair. Most of it has fallen out, either from malnourishment, or nervousness. Even though I see him pretty much every time I visit the park, I have never witnessed him begging, nor have I seen him bothering anyone for that matter. From what I’ve noticed, he actually seems quite mild mannered, if that can be determined from very limited observation.

Still, I was horrified to have witnessed the whole vomiting affair. When I saw this, my gut instinct was to cross over to him and check that everything was okay. But then I questioned why he was on the streets. Was he mentally ill, or had he just fallen on a series of bad luck episodes? Would he be coherent if I spoke with him?

The possibility that he was mentally ill unnerved me. If I questioned him, would he vomit on me? I also realized that I was already queasy just from watching him from a distance. There was a possibility I would lose my own lunch had I approached him in that state. So, I made a quick decision. I would keep jogging and do nothing. But this left me feeling a little uncomfortable as well. Had I rejected some of my humanity to turn my back on someone in this predicament? As I turned into the bend of the track, I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel? Was I supposed to block it out as I had chosen to do? Is that the appropriate response? I am unsure who else witnessed this episode, but the other joggers did as I and continued jogging.

Probably I write because I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my decision to keep jogging. When we see someone in distress, we should offer assistance, correct? The truth of the matter is sometimes the right thing is neither the easy nor the comfortable thing. So, again, I ask the question, “How am I supposed to feel?”

PRIDE AND GLORY

2009-07-14T17:25:00.000-07:00

Pride – An excessive belief in one's own abilities, that interferes with one’s understanding of the true laws of nature. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity.

The laws of nature are many, and they define the reality in which we all live. If everyone and everything that you know abides by these rules, then it is pretty safe to say it is a law of nature. Some simple ones are:

1.) Everything ages.
2.) All that is born dies.
3.) To live we must breathe air, drink water and consume food.

There are many other natural laws, and as hard as we might try, it is not in our power to change them. To be humble is to understand the existence of these laws, along with the knowledge that we have no power over them. Still, we see pride pushing us to fight these laws as if we had any control over them. Billions are spent on battling the aging process with things like creams, miracle cures, and surgery. This is pride and arrogance for these laws cannot be changed by man.

So, how does pride work exactly? Pride stems from man’s false understanding of his own role as a creative force. Parents often feel they created their children when in reality none of us have a true understanding of the process that takes place in creating a human being. Once again, we see this process being battled on a daily basis. Fertility doctors create drugs and processes whereby people who could not otherwise conceive are having litters of babies. Eventually, time will tell what defying these laws will bring.

Likewise, a farmer who delivers a large crop is often proud of his harvest. In such a situation, pride may lead the farmer to mistakenly believe that it is he who caused the crops to grow. In reality, he had no control over whether the sun shined, or the rain fell, or even that the soil was fertile. The humble farmer knows his role was but a small part in the chain of events necessary for the crop to come to fruition.

Life, and its rules existed long before any of us were here and the humble man knows that there is nothing that we as humans have invented. We have only uncovered how to manipulate the elements that were given to us to create new forms. In short, we have learned the “recipes” for making things, but in truth, we have invented nothing. Still, we have given ourselves credit for creating things like metals, glass and concrete. Columbus took credit for discovering America even though entire civilizations were already there. This is the most unfortunate thing about pride. It often leads us to deny the reality in which we live. When we are proud, we are saying we do not accept our role and what we have been given, in essence becoming delusional about the world in which we live. True humility will come through our simple acceptance of reality and the laws of nature that make up that reality.

GLUTTONY & GREED: NATURE OR NURTURED?

2009-07-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I was surfing the net and stumbled onto the headline, “The Biggest Billionaire Blowups: Who Lost the Most in 2008.” The article proceeded to feature stories on who lost the most in 2008 among some of the richest people in the world.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/05/biggest-billionaire-blowu_n_155426.html

As I read through the above article, I became more indignant about the world as we know it. How or why is it possible that one man in India, a country known for its abject poverty, could lose as much as $30 billion in one year? As Mike Tyson would say, it’s completely ludicrous. Only the imperfections of the human condition – both gluttony and greed – could allow such insanity to exist.

Gluttony is an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires.

Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness.

What is it that makes us want more than we need? Is it simply human nature to be greedy? Or could this be a learned behavior? Many argue the laws that Darwin proposed… survival of the fittest; kill or be killed; it’s a dog eat dog world. All of these teachings instruct, “that if we don’t go out there and get it, someone else will.” As such, people begin a lifetime of scrambling to “collect” things that they want, oftentimes at the detriment of those around them. How many of us have examples of this behavior somewhere in our lives? Certainly, all of us do, just as we are likely guilty of gluttony and greed ourselves.

Still, I believe human nature, in its purest form, is one of compassion and giving. It is only when the ego becomes involved, and through our society’s mis-education that we allow gluttony and greed to prevail. Thankfully, we have examples all around us of just how unfulfilling materialism can be. The Princess Di’s, the Michael Jacksons, and Paris Hiltons, are all people who we thought had it all, but yet they were or remain painfully unhappy. At the end of the day, taking and taking without giving back will be empty and unfulfilling. For many, the current financial crisis is a wake up call, or reminder of what is truly important. When we gain clarity, we will understand that giving, or being of service is so much more fulfilling than gluttony and greed.

I, My, Me, Myself and I

2009-07-08T15:06:00.000-07:00

I remember back when I was in college, a friend of mine was fortunate enough to be able to afford a brand new BMW 3-series. He was so proud of that car. For him, it was a source of inspiration indeed. And on many levels, I envied him. Although, I had a car, it was a simple Toyota that is no longer sold in the U.S. I can still remember when he first bought that BMW. He used to say he no longer had to work for girlfriends. “I just sit back and let the car do the talking,” he used to proclaim. All of his value and self-esteem was wrapped up in that car, and the attention it brought to him. I think we all know people who operate this way. In fact, many of us probably operate as such. Our self worth or how we see ourselves is painfully intertwined with what kind of car we drive, what part of town we live in, or where we work. Spiritually, this is a flaw brought on by the presence of none other than our egos.

Now, the ego is a tricky thing. In many ways, it gets a bum rap because we associate a variety of negative behaviors with it. But there is a reason for the ego’s existence. It actually serves multiple purposes, one of which is to protect us. Why and what do we need protection from you might ask? From ourselves, from each other, and from the environment.

Not too long ago, a friend of mine asked, “Why are we born into lives so full of pain and suffering? What is it all for?” Back when he asked, I didn’t know the answer to these questions, but I do now. Human life is so terribly precious because it is the vehicle to achieve enlightenment. Through our physical forms, we are spiritually enabled to grow and to evolve. Other animals don’t have this ability, but we do and how precious it is. One function of the ego is to keep us aware of this fact. The ego gives us drive for “self-preservation.” Sadly, this reality has become veiled to many of us. Even though we have this incredible capability to become enlightened, we waste entire lifetimes on nonsensical things.

Just the other day, I learned of a new innovation developed by Volvo. It is a radar guided collision warning, where the car’s computer will cause it to brake (independently of the driver) if a collision is imminent. The feature does not drive the car, but it can take control of the brakes in a dangerous situation. Knowing how precious life is and that it shouldn’t be wasted, the ego was designed to offer similar protection. If a figurative collision is imminent, the ego will apply the brakes. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the ego assumed a larger role, taking control of critical decisions. In essence, what was designed as a safety feature is now “controlling” the vehicle. When this happens, the outcome is almost certainly never good. The ego was not designed to be behind the wheel and is an awful decision maker. It will always choose selfishly. After all, this is part of its self-preservation function. The problem is when we allow it to control how we operate in society, we will always display behavior, which is dangerously self-centered and egocentric. As such, we will often be at odds with the people around us. Our nature will be competitive, not compassionate. And our lives will be full of suffering and misery.

Don’t let the ideas behind Darwinism fool you. Man’s true nature is not survival of the fittest, or to kill or be killed. When we understand how precious life is, and what life is there to accomplish, we become filled with compassion. Our desire is to share and to help each other. These attributes come easily when our egos are held to their original purpose. When these realizations are veiled, and the pursuits of the ego become commonplace, then our minds become clouded with confusion, and riddled with defilements.

Over the next couple of posts, I will discuss some of these defilements and how they arise from our unbridled egos.

Growing Up Brady!

2009-07-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Back in the fifth grade, I dreamt of being older because I imagined adult life was easier. It’s what I like to call the “Brady Bunch mentality.” In the Brady Bunch, the kids always had adolescent issues and the adults always had the answers. Oh, what a combination that is, the naiveté of a ten year old and the brainwashing power of TV!

Years later, when I was close to graduating from high school, I remember thinking I am close to adulthood, but my issues and interactions are no different from what they were on the fifth grade playground. Logically, I deduced that it would probably be in college that I began to feel like an adult. In college, I would likely have the answers as the adults did in the Brady Bunch. This was not to be true. Unfortunately, my relationships and issues were not significantly different in college either. Even then, I did not fully understand. I was still anxiously awaiting my Brady Bunch years, which I subsequently believed would start after college. Certainly, once I found a job, my adult life would begin. I looked forward to having a grown up’s clarity, with which I could solve even the most confusing of problems.

After college, I found a job in the entertainment industry, which I later learned was the place people go when they don’t want to grow up. This probably wasn't the best choice for someone seeking clarity. Within a few weeks of being on the job, I was introduced to the concept of office politics. For those of you who don’t know, office politics involve the exact same dynamics that were used on the playground, only in the office, these dynamics are quite structured according to the hierarchy. This means that child who was a bully in the fifth grade can only be a bully in the office if he or she is high enough in the hierarchy to be one. This also means that office politics often breed bullies out of people who never could have been bullies in nature. Scary, huh?

Even scarier are the world politics we witness day after day. A few days ago, I read the headlines of rhetoric from Iran’s newly re-elected President Ahmadinejad demanding an apology from President Obama for his comments following their election. The only thing I could think of was my fifth grade playground, and this or that kid arguing over whatever. Today’s banter between world leaders sounds more and more like, “You better not say nothin’ bad about my mama.” And just as it happens in the office, it is also true on the global playground. The hierarchy determines who the bullies will be, only the stakes are much higher. Instead of two kids fighting on the playground, thousands of troops are sent to battle wherever the biggest bullies choose.

Finally, I have realized the truth. “The Brady Bunch” was a false prophet for me. In reality, adults don’t have the answers and playground politics extend throughout all aspects of our entire lives. Still, in the back of my mind, I hope for a time when Brady Bunch solutions will apply and the answers to every problem will reveal themselves. I have a theory though. In the real world, I think we, or the Brady kids, will come up with our own solutions, reducing the need for the parents because in the real world, the parents are the bullies and who needs those.

PASSING [IT] ON

2009-06-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

I can still remember quite clearly the night I found out about Princess Diana’s death. I had just gotten home from work and I turned on the TV to hear the story. It was strange but I remember truly being stunned. I heard the headline, but I didn’t believe my own ears. I had to change channels and listen to the story once more before the reality settled in.

Further, I remember being quite saddened by this news. I sat down on my couch and thought, “How could this have happened to a princess?” It’s not difficult to understand why so many conspiracy stories arose about it being an assassination. People simply didn’t want to believe that something so tragic could occur in the life of royalty. Royals are so often put on pedestals where we consider them to be untouchable. After a while, I began to question the emotions I was feeling. While I had often seen Princess Diana’s photo on newsstands, I had never met her personally. I didn’t know her, but yet I was deeply moved by the news of her death.

Fast forward to present day, and the news of Michael Jackson’s death is echoing around the world in much the same way. Personally I received news of his death via text message, just minutes before the story broke online. I was quite skeptical of this report because years before I had learned of Whitney Houston death when in truth she had simply been hospitalized, and was very much still alive. Deep down, I hoped this was a similar report. An erroneous one, but alas it would later be confirmed as truth.

Today, while driving into the city, several radio stations were playing Michael Jackson songs in tribute. As I listened to “Smooth Criminal,” the depth of his talent struck me. Again, I found I was saddened even though it was the death of someone I had never met. It scares us to think that the people we hold as untouchable can die. And for them to die young is even scarier. Certainly, just like Princess Diana, Michael Jackson was seen as untouchable by the rest of the world. It didn’t matter how many lawsuits or bankruptcy stories circulated, M.J. would always be able to ride in limos and jet set about the world as all of the untouchables do. Even though we don’t have royalty in this country, the Kennedy family and the Jacksons are probably the closest thing to it. For decades, Michael wore the crown of the King of Pop!

As I mourn for Michael, I consider my own mortality, which has already been brought into question by a serious diagnosis. Probably, our biggest fear in this life is of death. The idea that there is nothing left outside of what we have on this planet is hard swallow. When you consider this fear, it is a strange one to have. It is a simple law of nature that has existed from the dawn of time. The law of impermanence. Everything that has a beginning has an end. Nothing that exists in a physical state can remain. Constantly, there is life, death and renewal. So, why do we fear what we know? Only because the truth of what happens after has become hidden from us. It is the fear of the unknown or perhaps the fear of the forgotten. In some strange way, the passing of those we love is a gift to remind us to explore what we have not learned or that which we have forgotten.

CALM, COOL AND A COLLECTIVE

2009-06-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

In 2008, for a period of roughly four months, I became obsessed with aliens. Yes, I was constantly questioning the existence of life on other planets. I even did hours of research, trying to reconcile the questions I had. In my mind, it only made sense that there was life elsewhere. Especially when you think of infinity. If space is infinite, how can there not be life somewhere out there? For me, the probability of life existing only on Earth was and remains a statistical impossibility. Certainly, we are not alone.

Through the course of my research, I learned quite a bit about “The Grays.” These are the stereotypical aliens that we read about with large heads, bulbous eyes and thin bodies. When people recount abduction stories, their memories are usually of the Grays. According to some conspiracists, President Eisenhower even signed a treaty with them [The Graeda Treaty] allowing them to abduct whomever they chose as long as they provided a list of potential abductees to the U.S. Government.

To read about the Graeda Treaty, see:

http://www.abidemiracles.com/56789.htm

“Experts” on the Grays also claim they are a collective. Because they are telepathic, they do not communicate with language per se. Each Gray is able to plug into the thoughts of any other, which hopefully eliminates the confusion that language can sometimes create. The concept behind the collective is that it operates very much like a beehive. Everyone in the collective is tasked with duties that benefit the collective.

In fact, because the Grays are telepathic, all of their thoughts are plugged into one collective mind, outside of which no Gray can operate. For some reason, I found this concept fascinating. Why do you ask? Because I began to believe that we, as humans, are also meant to function as a collective, but for egocentric reasons, we have created barriers to this reality.

Years ago, I read of similar ideas in a book called, “The Mutant Message Down Under.” Although I had a few problems with this book, I truly adored the underlying message within. The book is fictionalized, which suggest that liberties were taken with elements of a true story. It speaks of Australian Aborigines and how although we see them as primitive, they are quite advanced. In this book, they are depicted as also being able to communicate with telepathy. And not only do they live collectively with one another, they are also plugged into Mother Nature, treating her as a fully functioning member of the tribe. This was an extraordinary idea to me. Supposedly, when they come across possible food sources, they ask the universe if it’s okay before eating it, so as not to disturb the delicate balance that nature searches for.

In this story, the idea was put forward that we are all telepathic, but in modern society we shut ourselves down to it. We base our lives in large part on deceit. We don’t want to disclose our salaries, or sometimes where we live. Oftentimes, we don’t want to discuss our true views so we close ourselves off. But when you think about it, we are not completely shut down. How many times have you felt someone was staring at you, or did you realize that someone was upset even though they didn't mention it? These are remnants of our abilities to plug into one another. As we develop these sensitivities, we will then be able to develop true compassion. Without asking, we will know exactly what it is that someone needs and whether or not we are able to provide it. What a concept!

Mental Blockages

2009-06-15T16:48:00.000-07:00

On occasion, there are things we want, but can’t get because the universe denies them to us. Some people call this karma or [bad] luck. However, in most situations, if we are unable to get something we want, it is due to a mental block that we have. Probably there is something we need to change, remove, or add to our lives, but we are not doing so either because we are incapable or unaware. Years ago, one of my best friends from high school graduated from a four-year college. This was a huge accomplishment, especially given that no one in her family had ever gone to college before.

After she received her diploma, her family, who was of very modest means, scraped together the money to purchase her a new car. All of her friends, including me, were thrilled about this. For years, we had played chauffeur to her and her family. Now, not only would she be liberated, but she would also be able to take us places for a change. The condition of her new gift was that she would begin assuming the car payments as soon as she got a job and was on her feet. After roughly nine months of waiting for this to happen, her family (and I) began to realize that she had no intention of finding a job. Eventually, nine months spread to eighteen and before anyone knew it, two years had gone by and she was still unemployed.

Shortly after her family stopped making the car payments, my friend began hiding her car. The repo man was hot on her tail. During those years, I didn’t trouble her about finding a job. It never occurred to me that she wouldn’t think it necessary to get one. After a while, I grew accustomed to her availability. If I needed to speak to someone about something, I could call her at home and ninety percent of the time, I would catch her. In the back of my mind, I questioned why her family continued supporting her. She always had enough money to go see a movie or to go have a drink. At first I didn’t know where the money came from, but then I began to realize she would do odd jobs for her family and that gave her the change she needed to do a few social things. Although her family was displeased, they were also enabling.

I think it was after five years that I became truly perplexed. Although this was one of my nearest, and dearest friends, I had no idea why she wasn’t actively seeking employment. When I tried to talk to her about it, she told me, “I just need someone to call me and tell me I got the job.” I knew this wasn’t a realistic expectation, but all I could say was “okay.”

I think it was about seven years after she graduated from college that I made a call to speak to her. She wasn’t at home this day, but her older sister, who I was friendly with, answered the phone. She told me my friend was out and asked how I was doing. After a brief conversation, she asked me why I thought her sister wouldn’t get a job. I explained that I had no idea and never got a clear explanation from her when we talked about it. She said she was only asking because she knew how close we were and she thought maybe I had some insight. Unfortunately, I illuminated nothing on the subject. She then explained that she was sure her sister had some kind of mental block. Neither of us knew what that was, but we agreed that it was the only explanation for a smart and capable girl to have let nearly a decade pass without finding something productive to do.

Fast forwarding to present day, I have a couple of friends who are now in their forties, and neither have ever had romantic relationships. I found this statistic amazing. How is it possible that after four plus decades, there was never any person suitable toward a partnership? I explained to my two friends that subconsciously they didn’t want relationships. It was the only explanation that made sense. It was certainly similar to my childhood friend’s job situation. They were experiencing some kind of a mental block. I knew this to be true because years before I had suffered the same mental block. There was a period of time where I constantly complained that I couldn’t meet a quality person. I blamed the universe for not sending me someone to love. But loving someone is hard work, that back then, quite honestly, I wasn’t prepared to do. I see that now.

For anyone reading this who has a goal or desire they have not achieved, think long and hard about your efforts toward achieving that goal. Is there a blockage preventing you from going to the next step? If we are to actualize ourselves in this world, we must remove these blockages, but the first step is identifying and acknowledging that they are there.

Just for a simple update, my high school friend finally met a man who thankfully understood that she had to be separated from the enablers in her family. About ten years after receiving her college degree, he talked her into moving out of the state she grew up in. As soon as she escaped, she found a job and began working. Thankfully, that first job put her on a career path and many years later she is still working and making a living. I urge everyone to be honest and reflective about the things that are not working in their lives. This honesty is the only way to assess and move forward. When we can look at our strengths and weaknesses, then and only then, can we truly learn. Take it into consideration, for this is a reality I see as clearly as it is.

A CHOICE EFFORT

2009-06-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

Are we good, honorable people? Are we nice? Or are we bad and mean spirited? The answers to these questions are quite simply wrapped up in the choices we make. If we see someone in distress, do we choose to help? Do we selfishly exploit opportunities like when someone gives us too much change? If every choice we make involves us, and how we benefit, then it’s probably safe to say we are egocentric, and probably not the nicest people around. On the other hand, if our choices are compassionate and take others into consideration, then we are likely on the path toward being good and honorable people.

Several years ago, I was given the advice, “work on your powers of discrimination.” Personally, I found this concept fascinating.

TO DISCRIMINATE: The power of making fine distinctions; discriminating judgment: She chose the colors with great discrimination.

The more discriminating we are, the more protected we become against people who would do us wrong. It is those finer distinctions mentioned above that we often overlook. If dishonest people attempt to lie to us and we are discriminating, we will see through to the truth. In fact, the more discriminating we are, the easier we will find it to sort through the riffraff of people who might lie to us anyway.

As we travel through life, we will constantly be bombarded with situations and choices that need to be made. With a strong power of discrimination, we will see more clearly the array of choices that are presented to us. Some choices will be simple like Coke or Pepsi. Others will be more complex like “Do I befriend or do business with this person, who may or may not be dishonest?” Developing the power to make those fine distinctions will always be helpful when the more complex choices arise. The stronger our powers of discrimination, the more able we will be to properly navigate through life’s storms.

When choices become difficult, take time to consider the options. Consider who will benefit from your choice, or will there be people who suffer from your decisions? Whatever you do, choose carefully for those around you will judge your character based solely upon your actions.

Work To Live Or Live To Work?

2009-06-08T11:46:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I attended an all day workshop for people conducting job searches. The workshop leader was a very knowledgeable woman who spent more than a decade in corporate human resources. It was actually quite fascinating to hear from the other side how we are perceived when we send out resumes and interview.

Early on, in this mini course, the topic arose how high salaried Baby Boomers have been replaced by “Millennials,” a much younger generation of worker, generally with inferior salaries. But the workshop leader told the Baby Boomers not to worry because the current trend developing is that hiring managers are finding they don’t like the work ethic of Millennials. For this reason, there is a shift back to hiring Boomers as companies find they are able to restaff some of the previously eliminated positions.

I don’t typically follow trends in the workplace, so I found this phenomenon fascinating. Hiring managers, which are most likely Baby Boomers themselves, do not like the work ethic of Millennials. Why I asked myself? And then the answer came to me.

For many years, the world has been shifting in its attitude toward life and work, and more importantly how they interrelate. More and more, people are creating virtual offices, allowing themselves to work at home. Companies are beginning to realize this can be cheaper than having people come to an office. Management is beginning to play a larger role in working green, shortening workweeks to keep people off the roads, if possible. These are just a few examples of how things are shifting. Of course there are people who, accustomed to the old ways, are resistant to these changes.

During my 20 plus years working, I have seen a large array of corporate cultures, but there has always been one part of human behavior that existed everywhere. For lack of a better description, I will call it the “misery loves company” gene. As a writer, I am always observing. It didn’t take me long to discover that no one wants to be seen as the slacker. I have noticed even when a nine to six schedule is being worked, and six o’clock arrives, many people will sit at their desks whether or not they still have work to do. No one wants to be the first one to leave the office. It’s the same behavior that I’m sure highway patrol officers laugh about. Many times I have noticed them driving at fifty or fifty-five in a 65 mph zone, and even though it is perfectly legal to pass, practically no one will. I am more than happy to work long hours when necessary, but if my work is done, I will exit at quitting time just like I pass highway patrol when they are creeping on the interstate.

Years ago, one of my best friends worked for Disney. I remember it was a Friday at five pm and we had arranged to travel to Mammoth, California for a ski weekend. As we were walking through his office preparing to leave, more than a few co-workers looked at their watches as if to say, “I cannot believe you are considering leaving at 5pm on a Friday.” Most of those people would probably have said they were joking had we confronted them about their comments, but as another friend of mine always used to say, “There’s a little truth in every joke.” I found the questions frustrating and I was furthered bothered by the amount of people asking them. Especially because I knew my friend was the ideal corporate employee. I can still recall when he worked for PepsiCo, and he reprimanded me for ordering a Rum and Coke. Because we were out with his co-workers, he informed me that I should be ordering a Pepsi and Rum. And yes, he was serious.

Honestly, I wasn’t surprised about the “Are you leaving so early?” questions at Disney. For years, I had heard nothing but horror stories about their corporate culture. In my temping days, I reluctantly accepted a 6-week assignment in their consumer products division. From what I had heard, they purposefully understaffed and overworked. Although it was just a temporary assignment, I worked 55 hours in my first week. I was also invited to work on my first Sunday of the assignment. It just so happened that the following Monday morning, a fire alarm drill took place. As all of the employees gathered outside of the building, conversations about the weekend popped up. The manager with whom I was working, when asked about his weekend, quickly quipped, “I worked.” It was a strange thing to listen to because I couldn’t tell if he was bragging or complaining.

After hearing him answer to several people about his weekend, I realized he was doing both, complaining that he had no life, but also bragging about what a hard worker he was. This is a strange and twisted psychology of many corporate cultures. People are miserable inside when they work ungodly hours, but they wear this misery as a badge of honor. How could you not feel despair when your entire life becomes about the pursuits of others? I actually found it sad because this manager confided in me that his fiancée broke off their engagement because she didn’t understand about his intense work schedule. Again, I couldn’t tell if he was bragging or complaining, but I’m pretty sure it was both. Needless to say, corporations love workers with this work ethic. Workers who are prepared to let everything in their life fall apart as long as they are rewarded on their jobs.

As I sat in this seminar, wondering why hiring managers didn’t like the work ethic of Millennials, I realized this new generation of workers had shifted their thinking. The mindless devotion to furthering a corporate goal is not in their DNA. Whether this will be good or bad for the new economies emerging remains to be seen, but I am hopeful that a new workplace will emerge where all of us can better integrate our lives between work and play.

Happy, Go Lucky Paris!

2009-06-05T13:03:00.000-07:00

For over two decades, I have frequently traveled to Paris, France. And for the most part, the city has lived up to its “full of attitude and flair” reputation. I still remember the first time I visited. I was still a minor and was traveling with my family. We had all studied French for several months before arriving, but our skills were still quite limited. French people are very particular about their language, and actually have great disdain for anyone who doesn’t speak it perfectly. I distinctly remember exiting the plane in Charles De Gaulle airport and asking for instructions on how to maneuver through the customs process. The gentleman who we spoke with practically waved us off before we could get a full sentence off. Before we knew it, he was walking away. I can still remember my mother laughing about it. Truthfully, all you could do was laugh. I suppose in the man’s defense, he was probably asked the same questions hundreds of times and certainly, he was just over it. Needless to say, I rarely had a good experience in France before I learned to speak their language fluently.

Many years, and many trips later, I had formed a close friendship with a French guy I met in San Diego. He was originally from Marseille, but had finished his university studies in Paris, and was still living there. He often visited me in the United States, and every time I visited Paris, I would stop off to see him.

One year, I visited while he was working on an application for a master’s program at Carnegie Mellon. One of the requirements was for him to get all of his French university records translated into English. He knew of an office where this service was performed. I went there with him and witnessed something incredible. An older woman was behind the counter this day. She seemed like a sweet enough lady until my friend asked her a question. She demanded thirty-five francs, which was the going price for transcript translations back then. My friend continued to try to ask his question, “But I just wanted to know—“ “Thirty-five francs!” the woman demanded. My friend said okay and, while removing his wallet, attempted to ask the question again. The woman stopped him again. “Give me the thirty-five francs first,” she continued. She proceeded to explain that people get her caught up in asking questions, and then she would forget to collect the fees. She wanted the money before any questions were asked. Just like my mother had done many years before, my friend laughed. He paid the money and then had all of his questions answered.

If I had been there alone, and the woman had spoken to me in that manner, I would have found her incredibly rude. I would have also taken it very personally, thinking that she was treating me that way because I was a foreigner, or maybe specifically because I was an American. But witnessing her treating another Frenchman that way opened my eyes. I finally realized that the perceived rudeness that we often prescribe to Parisians is a cultural way of being. It actually isn’t that they have disdain for foreigners who don’t speak their language. It is simply a way that they behave that completely throws off anyone visiting. But another French person, like my friend, remained completely unfazed. After she received the thirty-five francs, the woman was just as pleasant and helpful as I imagined she’d be when we first entered the office.

Just a couple of months ago, I was in Paris and I noticed a change from my last trip, which was still during the Bush Administration. During the Bush years, when I traveled to Europe, I kept to myself and slipped in and out of places I wanted to visit as unnoticed as I possibly could. The reason being, whenever I chatted with someone, and they found out I was American, it would become a huge debate about the war, and U.S. policies. I would be grilled about whether or not I was a Bush supporter, which I wasn’t. I always felt on the defensive, but I didn’t have a good defense. There were no weapons of mass destruction. On one of my excursions, just after the war had begun, I remember lying on the beach in the French Riviera. All around me were conversations about the war and Bush policies. I quickly realized that Bush bashing was one of France’s favorite pastimes.

On this last trip, a couple of months ago, I found Parisians to be super pleasant. The waiters were not only patient, and helpful, they were full of jokes. After a few days of being in Paris, I realized there was a phenomenon going on. Obama’s election hadn’t only affected those of us here, in the homeland. The entire world, and certainly those in Paris, were breathing a sigh of relief. There was a sense of peace and calm that came along with the success of Obama’s “Hope” campaign. This is how I see it, clearly as it is.

Gravy and Salad Dressing

2009-06-02T12:35:00.000-07:00

Thank God I have been fortunate enough to have been able to travel from an early age. When I was twelve (oh how long ago that was), my father joined the foreign service, working as an engineer in the Agency for International Development. Within months, we were living in Niger, West Africa. I wasn't so happy about this back then, but today I am grateful. I quickly learned that there are very different ways to live, and I also picked up French while I was at it.

Previously, I have mentioned seeing reality as it is and not as we'd like it to be. While I love the United States, where I was gratefully born and raised, I must admit we are the kings of marketing and spin doctoring. We can take the truth and twist it so far around that nobody knows whether they're coming or going anymore. The Bush administration is a perfect example of this as is the "crisis." The financial meltdown is something that was occurring for years before anybody knew about it. Why? Because the unfortunate truth was covered up with gravy and salad dressing to make it taste good. Don't get me wrong, I love a little dressing or sauce just like the next person. But these should be used to flavor, not to cover up. When you can no longer taste what is beneath the gravy, there is a problem.

Marketing is a great tool, but only when truths are being marketed. When marketing is misused simply to generate cash, it often leads to improper and corrupt behavior. A good example of this is demonstrated over and over in the documentary, "The Corporation," which I was unable to finish watching because I feared I would never drink milk again if I did. The truth about milk (if we choose to really think about it) is that nowhere in nature do adult animals consume it. But a thick heaping of gravy was poured over this reality to convince us that "it does a body good." We need milk for strong teeth and bones, right?

Slowly, a movement has been arising where spin doctoring is being demystified. People are beginning to see through the gravy to the truths of the world. As this occurs, there is a resurgence of the old ways, such as organic foods, glass instead of plastics and other "green" behavior. I urge everyone to join this movement, and use their powers of discrimination to see through the veils of gravy and dressing. Only then will we see the end of nonsense marketing, and throw away products that don't add value. This is a truth I see, clearly as it is.

Ten Days Of Silence

2009-06-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Given that a large part of my inspiration to create this blog has come from my experience studying Vipassana meditation, I thought I would include a message that I sent to my peers about my experience studying the technique. For me, Vipassana was like doing 3 years of therapy in 10 short days. Anyway, here is the message:

First, I’d like to thank all of you for the compliments on my updates. I must admit I am flattered and even a little startled by the enthusiasm of your responses. Secretly, I am thrilled that you have asked for more details on the retreat. I wanted to write about it in the last email, but it seemed so incredibly long… as is this one…

Anyway, when I last left off, there were about 40 of us waiting on the curb in front of Hotel Terminus in Laroches-Migennnes. After about 2 hours, the shuttle arrived to take us to the center. I guess there were only 34 seats in the shuttle so 6 people were left standing outside on the curb. Apparently, they hadn’t read the email instructions in their entirety so they had not RSVP’d for the shuttle. They ended up sharing a taxi shortly after we left.

It was a very beautiful ride into the countryside, but it was riddled with anxiety for me. I still had no idea what I had really signed up for. After about 20 minutes, I finally realized we were being taken away from society. I am sure quite a few car commercials have been filmed in these areas. No homes or structures were in sight. Just perfectly paved roads, somewhat narrow, stretching into the countryside. Where we were going, there would be no computers, no radios, no televisions, no newspapers, no cell phones, no ipods, and no talking. We were being stripped of all the things that we take for granted.

After about 45 minutes, I began so see a farm here, a house there. Deep off in the distance, I saw some large structures, and I knew that must be the Vipassana Center. Finally the shuttle turned down a long road that had these large, beautiful trees on each side, planted in formation. They almost appeared as columns along the road. Once the shuttle parked, we unloaded our things and were herded into the building to check in.

They had all of us fill out a questionnaire, which was identical to the one we had already filled out online. The final question on it was, “What is your current state of mind?” As fantastic as the retreat was, this was a very appropriate question. Vipassana stirs up a lot of demons. If your state of mind isn’t in the proper place, one could easily crack.

During check in, I surrendered my cell phone, ipod and my journal. I was given my room assignment, so I rushed into the next building to see what the accommodations were like. The dorm was essentially a huge room divided off into sections. In each section there were 6 beds. 5 people were assigned to my section, so we had one empty bed. At this point, I prayed that there were no snorers in my group (and luckily there weren’t).

At the end of the main hall, there was a huge bathroom with 8 to 10 sinks, about just as many shower stalls and 3 toilets, one of which was a Turkish toilet (pretty much a porcelain hole in the ground that you squat over… ugh!). Thankfully, the regular toilets were almost always available, so I was able to avoid the Turkish one.

Shortly after I set up my bed, I returned to the main hall where they fed us. It was about 5pm by then. After our meal, we were given the code of conduct, and then the silence began. Several people had begun chatting on the shuttle, but I chose to remain silent pretty much from the time I deboarded the train. To my dismay, when I returned to the bathroom just before lights out, I discovered a sign that said, “Hot water to return tomorrow.” There was no way I was going to take a cold shower on that first night. It had gotten a little chilly after sundown, so I washed up in the sink, and went to bed.

Day one started with a gong going off at 4am. About a month before, I had done another retreat in Barcelona. There, we reported to the Dharma room at 6am. There is a huge difference between 4am and 6am. 6am is early, but I at least felt like I was present in the room at that time. At 4am, I was in some kind of a daze. Luckily, I had readied my things the night before, because we dressed in the dark.

At 4:30 we reported to the Dhamma Hall. The first technique that we were given was to close our eyes and concentrate on our breathing. We were asked to be aware of the breath coming in and out of our nostrils. This exercise is so much harder than it sounds. I would concentrate on my breath and then I would think, “I wonder if that hot water’s gonna be back on by the end of today.” Every couple of breaths, I would find myself thinking about this thought, or that thought. I thought about what a nice time I had in Austria and in Paris. During the instruction, we were told, “Your mind will wander, and as soon as you become aware that it has wandered, bring your attention back to your breath.” After a few hours of this, I began to get really frustrated. Luckily, the instruction said, “Don’t get frustrated.” That helped me to relax.

For several hours this went on. My attention wandered literally about every 3 seconds. Toward the end of each day, we were shown a video discourse featuring the man who created the course, S.N. Goenka. During his first speech, he said, “Probably a lot of you couldn’t hold your attention for more than a couple of breaths. You are probably wondering what kind of mind do you have. Why can’t you pay attention?” I was so happy when I heard this because that is exactly what I was thinking. As the discourse continued, I realized the technique had helped me see just how stormy my mind can be. I had spent about 8 hours listening to the chatter in my head. It was like someone was tuning a radio, but they never stopped on one channel. Therefore there were pieces of this memory and that thought, but no focus. No clarity. Believe it or not, this went on for two more days. Each day was a little better. The wanderings of my mind became less frequent, changing from every 3 seconds to every 10 seconds. There was improvement, but still not what I thought I would be capable of.

I have never been to psychotherapy, but I figured that it must feel something like this. Sitting in a room, sifting through all of the thoughts in your head, and trying to figure out which ones are holding you back from succeeding at whatever. It was such a great feeling to begin having some sense of clarity about what goes on in my own head.

To my surprise, at the end of day 3, Goenka said in the video discourse, “Tomorrow is a big day because you begin Vipassana.” I was caught off guard because I thought we had been doing Vipassana all along. As it turned out, the first method is called Hanapana Meditation. I guess I wasn’t paying attention with my wandering mind.

On the 4th night, after we had completed our first Vipassana lesson, the dorms were strange to say the least. On all of the previous nights, all of the meditators pretty much retired at 9:30pm, but on this night, people were still wandering around, talking, banging about in the bathroom. After I finally fell asleep, I was awakened by one of my roommates around 1am. He was arguing with someone in a dream, and talking out loud in his sleep. He was so loud that people in other sections of the dorm were commenting on what he was saying. It was kind of funny, but a little annoying. The 6.5 hours sleep that our timetable allowed turned out to be about 5.5 hours that night.

So, what is Vipassana? Goenka described it as a complex surgery to remove impurities from the mind. Once you begin to see what’s going on in your mind, you have to begin cleaning house and remove the thoughts, ideas, concepts, experiences that are bringing negativity into your life. It’s too complex for me to explain how it works in an email, but suffice it to say that it works. Once you start Vipassana, you will notice subtle to severe changes in your breathing, and heart rate. There were quite a few people hyperventilating in the Dhamma Hall. And you knew they were getting aggravated because of their issues and traumas rising to the surface.

Immediately after starting Vipassana, I found myself getting very agitated. On day 6, I was in the Dhamma Hall sobbing uncontrollably. I thought of what I had heard from people who have done therapy. Pretty much all of them have said you don’t really experience a breakthrough until you cry in a session. Well, I knew I had just had a big breakthrough… quite a catharsis I had that day.

In one of his discourses, Goenka explained that in India they categorize 3 different kinds of wisdom. There is secondhand wisdom that you hear or read about. There is wisdom that you intellectualize, and then finally there is experiential wisdom. In their esteem the best wisdom to have is experiential. I can tell you about this method, but the best way to understand it is to do it for yourselves.

One of my roommates quit on day 3, and a second one dropped out on day 8. I say this to underline how challenging the program is. Because we weren’t able to speak at that point, I have no idea why they left, but this retreat really does require a strong state of mind and determination.

I certainly recommend it, and I am eternally grateful that my friend, Dave, steered me in the direction, pushing me year after year to do the retreat. Honestly, it has been 5 or 6 years since he first mentioned it to me. I am glad however that I waited until now to do it.

If any of you are interested, here is the website. You will see links to the different locations on the left.

http://www.dhamma.org

Today's Truth

2009-05-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

For months, I have considered blogging. Today, I decided to go beyond consideration and to become proactive. It's time to start checking off the things I'd like to do and to do them!

This morning, I woke up early, did around 45 minutes of yoga, followed by one hour of the Vipassana meditation technique. In fact, Vipassana is my motivation for beginning this blog. Vipassana means to see or view reality as it is, therefore the title, "Clearly As It Is." After learning this technique, and trust me, I am simply a beginner, I have found the strength to begin looking at the truths of my life. That is, I can now regard the facts of life as they are and not simply as I'd like them to be. For starters, I feel so much more peaceful about my relationship with my father. For years, I have wanted him to be a certain kind of father. Before he and my mother divorced, I also found myself wishing he'd been a different kind of husband to my mother. But the reality is, my father is and has always been a man with his own hopes and desires. My wanting him to be something else has no true bearing on the reality of who he is. It's strange how this epiphany helped me to feel calm, given that the realization was that he would never become the image I projected him to be in my mind. But in some strange way, I found this freed us both from having unreasonable, or unrealistic expectations. As I continue this blog, I will look for truths in my day-to-day life, and I will talk about them.

My truth for today involves a commercial campaign that I noticed this week. It is an American Cancer Society (ACS) campaign with the slogan "More Birthdays." In theory, this is a great campaign, but the end of the commercial spot made me realize how clueless the ACS is. As a cancer survivor myself, I am very sensitive to any stories involving the disease. A reality of cancer is that it thrives off of sugar. Cancer patients (and survivors) should be very careful to consider the amount of sugar (and carbs) they consume in their diet. To indulge in sugar is to feed the cancer. At the end of the ACS commercial, an actor is seen carrying a large birthday cake covered in sugary frosting and adorned with candles. I found this imagery irresponsible. One of these days, in the near future, healthcare will cease to be a money making industry, and toxic treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation will disappear. This is how I see this truth, clearly as it is.