HAPPY BIRTHDAY -- In Memoriam

Mom,  a month before her passing

BACK IN THE DAY...
It’s difficult to believe that 6 years have passed since my mother’s death, which was entirely unexpected. At the time, I couldn’t imagine how I would ever recover from such an intense loss, but here I am. Anyone who has lost a parent they were close to will understand the disconnect that occurs. For most of us, our earliest memories involve our mothers. The cars may change, the houses may change, families may grow or break up, but mom is, more often than not, one of the unique constants.

Had she lived, today would have been her 78th birthday. While this may sound old to many of you, she hailed from a family of longevity. My grandmother, who was every bit the stereotypical matriarch, lived to be a hundred. All of the women, including my aunts, remained quite active until their late eighties and even nineties. In fact, my mom’s oldest surviving sibling passed very recently at the ripe age of ninety-four. This is exactly the path I expected for my mom. [To know what a young seventy-two she was, see the photo above that was taken just two months before her passing.]

AND HERE WE ARE TODAY...
The most wonderful aspect that I have experienced since her passing is the ability to hear her voice, almost as if she is continuing to parent from the other side. While she was alive, if ever she learned I was pushing myself too hard, she would remind me to slow down. Even today, when I am spread too thin, I can hear her voice telling me to pace myself. As I grow older and wiser, I realize more and more what a great life teacher she was and how blessed I am to have had her in my life.

Today, on her birthday, I must say thank you for the foundation that taught me to be a decent person. I must say thank you for the love, nurturing and compassion. I must say thank you for the patience, guidance and understanding that only a mother could afford.

Happy Birthday, mom, you are sorely missed.

THE LIVING OR THE LIVING DEAD?

This week, I saw the trailer for “Warm Bodies,” a zombie love story that will be released next month. If I’m going to be honest, I have to admit my initial reaction was one of disbelief. A zombie love story! Really? But then I thought about it and realized I should have expected this a long time ago. The zombie craze re-emerged in 2002 with “28 Days Later.” This movie’s success led to the remake of “Dawn of the Dead” and the more comedic “Shaun of the Dead” in 2004. “28 Weeks Later” would follow in 2007 and “Zombieland” in 2009. The “Resident Evil” franchise would also come to the big screen and “The Walking Dead” would find its way to the small screen. Zombie stories are the rage and if I had thought realistically about it, I should have known it would only be a matter of time before there was a zombie love story.

So, why are we fascinated with zombies? This question has been on my mind for quite some time. Last week, a potential answer occurred to me. In my screenwriting classes, I encourage my students to write from experience because the stories we create are simply analogies for real life. The protagonist, or the hero of any story, is really us. We watch or read these stories to see characters triumph over adversity. In essence, we are relating to these characters because we hope to be similar to them in the challenges of our own lives. When misfortunes occur, we wish to overcome them just as the heroes do in the stories we read or watch on the big or small screen.

AND THE REAL ZOMBIES ARE...
Then it occurred to me! Zombies are so popular because they are also analogies to real life. Zombies represent the majority of society – the masses of people who are stumbling through their lives in jobs they don’t like or relationships they don’t respect. How many of us have said, “I wish I could...” but instead continue to do things that don’t make us happy? We are in fact the zombies of today. Society has given us all a script regardless of whether or not we are truly right for the part. We are told when we finish high school that we should go to college, get jobs and then marry and have families. While this is a fantastic path that I support, there is no single direction in life that is tailored to fit everyone. For many of us, surrendering to this “script” transforms us into zombies, urging us to march blindly down a path that is not our own. As Shakespeare wrote so many years ago:

“This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man...”

Today, I urge everyone, as long as it doesn’t infringe upon or lessen the experience of others; don’t wish you could, rather know you should do what you are passionate about. The Mayans predicted that the end of 2012 would mark the beginning of a great awakening. We must all take ownership of our own realities. We must know that we are the survivors and not the zombies of our own destinies.

To view a trailer for the next blockbuster zombie pic, "World War Z," please click here.

I WROTE A BOOK!
To learn more about Volume One
of my Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Action-adventure series, “The Unveiling,”
please visit the website at TheUnveilingSeries.com.

Let's Conversate On It...

ONLY IF YOU BELIEVE IT...
Whether you consider yourself religious or spiritual is not really the point. Most would still agree that a common belief system is what brings things into existence. We call the sky blue because we have all agreed to this belief. Words, in fact, exist because, at some point, we have all agreed to them. For years, I cringed when I heard the word “conversate” because I knew this was not a word. Little by little, conversate has crept into existence and has been used by so many people until Merriam Webster finally validated it by placing it in the dictionary. Because so many people believed it to be a word, conversate has become verbal reality. If tomorrow, we all agreed that the color of the sky was much closer to purple, this would also become an accepted truth.

BUT THE WORLD DIDN'T END...
Things exist because we believe they do. Just a few weeks ago, I spoke to a very good friend. He was convinced that the world would come to an end with the finish of the Mayan Calendar. When I questioned him, he admitted that he had purchased a “disaster kit” and had also requested time off work to escape to safer ground, as they did in the movie “2012.” I am sure when he reads this post, he will know who I am referring to. Several years ago, I assured him that the Mayans never predicted the end of the world but rather predicted the end of the world as we know it. The Mayans prophesied that 2012 would usher in the end of materialism, which some might argue is not a bad thing. I feel it’s important that we acknowledge our negative thoughts. If we continue to think pessimistically, we bring negativity into existence and make that negativity real. It’s also important to know that we can all create positivity by simply agreeing that goodness exists. So, what will you choose for 2013? Will you be the light that illuminates the day? Or will you choose to be the shade that creates shadows of darkness in life? The choice is entirely up to you.

Happy New Year, everyone! To read my Sci-fi/Fantasy/Adventure book on the world's elite, please visit: TheUnveilingSeries.com

ON THE ART OF DATING

THIS IS HOW WE DO IT
I must confess I didn’t understand the first time I heard it. One of my best friends 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 in North America. 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.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU, GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU
So, I asked my friend 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, I have always clicked better romantically 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.

TEARING DOWN THE WALLS
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.

ABOUT K. L. COLLINS
I am an author and a college professor of screenwriting for both television and film. To learn more about my newest sci-fi, fantasy, adventure novel, "The Unveiling: 1.0," please visit: TheUnveilingSeries.com.

The Authentic You!

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!

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

I'm Baaaack!

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

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.

IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!
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.

THE FINAL ACT
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.

I WROTE A BOOK!
To learn more about Volume One of my Sci-Fi/Fantasy/
Action-adventure series, “The Unveiling,”
please visit the website at TheUnveilingSeries.com.

The Road To Tennessee - Part I

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-

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

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.

Cracking The Shell

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

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.

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

Sticks And Stones And Broken Bones

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 the 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 brakes. Luckily I was able REto coast down into an area where I regained traction. I tried paying closer attention and successfully parked at our intended destination – The Georgia Aquarium.

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.

RECEIVING HEALTHCARE IN THE U.S. SYSTEM
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.

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

Avatar: Opening Pandora's Box

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!

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!

When What You See Isn't What You Get

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

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

FINDING YOUR CENTER

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

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

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

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

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

Your Most Valuable Contribution

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Power Positioning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving…

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!

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

A CHOICE EFFORT

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.