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.

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

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.

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-

Sugar Plums, Laughter and Tears

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

MULTIPLE CHOICE: a.) victim b.) intentional

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.