Royce's Dad taking photos in the High Sierras of California 1970
Photo by Royce Addington
FOR THE FIRST TIME
NEVER STOP REACQUAINTING YOURSELF WITH THE WORLD
LIE DOWN IN THE SOFT MEADOW GRASSES
TURN YOUR FACE TOWARD THE WARMTH OF THE SUN
DANCE ACROSS THE VAST SEA OF WILDFLOWERS
DRINK IN EVERY HINT OF COLOUR
BREATH DEEPLY OF THE SWEET MOUNTAIN AIR
HEAR THE WHISPER OF THE DISTANT CANYON WIND
HAVE WE DONE IT ALL BEFORE?
BEING WITH NATURE MAKES US FEEL AS THOUGH WE ARE
AND EXPERIENCING LIFE
FOR THE FIRST TIME...
To give you an example of what can ‘appear’ after a guided visualization; one of our braver souls (thank you Royce) has reluctantly agreed to share what showed up on the page after participating in a powerful teleconference guided visualization created by Jill Badonsky of The Muse is In.
At the end of this guided imagery, each participant was asked to complete, in writing, the sentence,
“Behind the door of my Creativity…”
Behind the door of my Creativity…. is a wondrous ancient stone vestibule/entry with a double sweeping staircase which leads to an upper balcony. Dramatic and grand. Burning torches bathe the room in flickering shades of gold and amber. Standing on the steps and all along the balcony railing above are spirit entities (don’t know what else to call them) and people who are there to guide me on my path; even though I’m not sure where this path leads.
A symbol floats into my mind. I see gratitude as a tightly wound circular line, in a nautilus shell shape, wrapped in a golden-white glowing ball of light. Like a ball of string unraveling, it gently floats and extends… this cord of glowing light floats in space. It gently encircles me at the waist and forms a loose knot…then keeps extending on and on as it moves towards the left side of the stairway. Slowly the cord moves up the stairs. The entities gently reach out and hold on to the cord. Each time they touch it, I feel a jolt of spiritual joy beyond description.
Who is the first person all dressed in white to touch the cord? It’s my beloved Faye (my grandmother, mentor, muse) who is smiling that mischievous grinning smile of hers.
Then, I don’t know who stands behind her, but she (Faye) knows who it is…from our mutual Indian heritage…a healer. The chord of light vibrates with energy. I see the orange robes of Buddhist monks in jovial conversation with Native American healers and shamans. I see light, just soft, glowing gentle persuasive light which guides me up the stairs one step at a time. As I go, I smile at each of the entities because they make me feel so safe. So welcome. They nod in return.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I see a series of doors lining the far wall of the balcony. Each door beckons me to open it and I have to decide which one to open first. I’m standing on my balcony…so peaceful, so full of serenity…a sense of “knowing” but still undecided as to which door to open first?
Breath. Just Breath. Let go of needing an outcome. Breath and experience this Moment. The answer will reveal itself.
Each person’s response to a guided visualization is unique. Some people feel quite emotional. Others say they feel or see nothing at all. Whatever the outcome, it is all OK. There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to experience a guided imagery. It’s simply an interesting and creative way to travel deeper into that part of ourselves we seem to isolate too often.
Give it a try. Don’t ‘over-noodle’ the process. Have some fun!
If you feel like sharing any of your experiences; we would love to hear about them either here as a ‘comment’ or drop us an e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Dolphin in the aqua sea
Bathe in golden light
Illustration for “The Greek Mythological Legend”
Published in London, 1910
…Along the jagged coastline were outcroppings of craggy old reefs. Exposed and dangerous. The bottle-green water of the sea sparkled in the brilliant sunlight as it tumbled and roared; giving the appearance of great white stallions lifting their mighty heads while galloping forward toward their destiny.
Excerpt from a story-in-progress Pieces of Eight
I am in love with this world...
I have climbed its mountains,
The egg is the container of our influence.
Opens us up to the questions.
Our passions, creativity and imagination.
Living a life focused on authentic expression
Is the elixir for metamorphosis.
Butterfly or petrified glob?
The choice is ours.
Photo by Nicole Duplaix
In the July sunshine
The glimpse of an iridescent dragonfly wing
Palm fans waving in the breeze
Deep within the blooming hibiscus
A sleeping frog jumps from my unexpected touch
To the water’s edge we go
For a refreshing dip in the shaded mangrove pond
The giant lily pad gently rocks
In the July Sunshine
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny ipomretnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?
Try typing (at your normal typing speed) the above paragraph exactly as it is written. How many of the wrods did you sepll correctly!?!
By Christian D. Larson
Modified by The Secret 2007
I promise myself…
To be so strong that nothing can disturb my peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person I meet.
To make all my friends feel that there is something worthwhile in them.
To look at the sunny side of everything and make my optimism come true.
To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as I am about my own.
To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful expression at all times and give a smile to every living creature I meet.
To give so much time to improving myself that I have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
To think well of myself and to proclaim this fact to the world, not in loud words, but in great deeds.
To live in the faith that the whole world is on my side, so long as I am true to the best that is in me.
One of the little techniques I’ve learned to get the creative energies moving into my body, heart and brain is to read a passage, quote or poem by someone I love and admire. Then I daydream and play; morphing it with my words to reflect ideas floating by at any given moment. Here is today’s example, borrowing the structure from Walt Whitman:
As for me
I am a student
Learning to 'see' nothing else but miracles.
Or climb out onto the tiny metal roof from my bathroom window and look through the mangroves toward the sky,
Or skip with naked feet along the warm sand just at the edge of an undiscovered beach,
Or sleep under the ancient trees in Glacier Park,
Or talk and drink coffee all morning with someone I love,
Or sleep in bed each night with someone I love, two dogs and two cats,
Or watch butterflies busy around the delicate orchid blooming this sultry afternoon,
Or the magnificent Maxfield Parrish palette of sunset,
Or a thousand stars dancing in a velvet night,
Or the hypnotic full moon in June…
Could any greater mysteries or miracles await?
A few days ago, I discovered this quote by A.J. Balfour.
To be honest, I really didn’t understand its profound depths the first time I read the passage. So, I read it again…and again…and again and I’m still not sure I ‘get it’ entirely. But these words have prompted me to really think about our perceptions of reality, historical perspective and truth.
Most of us have heard the adage ‘Truth is stranger than fiction.’
The older I get; the more I find this axiom to be absolutely TRUE.
Recently, I’ve been buried in a great deal of fascinating and exciting historical research that substantiates this concept in spades. I have read so many contradictory ‘facts’ and ‘truths’ about the same events or groups (for example…the Templars, the Vikings, Native American Indians, the Freemasons and America’s Founding Fathers) that I’ve come to the point, once again, of redefining my perception and definition of what TRUTH really means. I’ve also become magnetized by the term ‘revisionist history’. As my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. McBride, taught us as a first step in any investigation,
“When in doubt about a word or meaning, go to the Dictionary!”
TRUTH: Conformity to fact or reality; veracity (agreement with actual fact) or honesty; a true statement; fidelity (careful and exact observance; exactness in reproduction); constancy; a spiritual or philosophical verity (the quality of being real).
REVISIONIST: To revise; as in to examine or reexamine and make changes, corrections or to amend. A preference and encouragement of deviation from other theories or accounts of fact or truth.
HISTORY: From the Greek Historia: Learning by inquiry. That branch of knowledge that deals with events that have already taken place; the study or investigation of the past; a narrative of past events; a drama dealing with past events; a story or tale.
As a child growing up and as an over-zealous student with huge pre-programmed blinders firmly in place; I viewed TRUTH as a one-dimensional, black or white sacred stone. If I had been asked to put an image with the word in lower school; inevitably it would have been a towering column or pillar from the Parthenon that could withstand the test of time. In high school, I might have seen truth as the Great Pyramid. At university, it would have looked more like Mt. Everest… I was the intrepid climber; asking myself, “Will I ever reach the summit and really understand what TRUTH is all about!” (Ah, the joys of budding intellectual and philosophical angst).
Then I joined what many referred to as ‘the real world’ and went to ‘work’. I no longer took the time to fully explore the narrowing and treacherous trail that led to TRUTH but I was becoming increasingly bombarded by confusing definitions of what truth actually represented. My sacred stone was morphing into a vaporous, transparent almost invisible mirage; wavering in the explosive contradictions of other people’s truth.
Of course, over the last thirty years, the Great Teacher we call ‘Experience’ gave me a series of seemingly on-going crash courses in survival that might have been named…TRUTH: Does It Really Exist?
For better or worse; I had the privilege of surviving unimaginable treachery; lies in all their slippery guises, deceit, manipulations and betrayals beyond even my wildest imagination. Yes, I call this a PRIVILEGE because I survived the most vicious enemies of my personal TRUTH without being conquered or destroyed.
I have come to appreciate that one of the greatest gifts of this horrific experience was to break through the imposed barriers and once again, as in my youth, question everything. There is a potentially catastrophic downside to this awareness. Age and experience can beget cynicism, rigidity, futility, jealousy, bitterness, an inability to DREAM, loss of HOPE, absence of JOY and deep wells of UNHAPPINESS… which invite DIS-EASE and death; both physical and spiritual. Unfortunately, we seem to allow so much fear to dance around the circle of TRUTH! The wonder of human intelligence is that our free will allows us to make choices and adjust our attitudes.
At this point, I realize how ridiculous it is to try and capture TRUTH in only a few words. It simply isn’t possible. Allow me to reel myself back in to A.J. Balfour’s quote.
TRUTH as a tent.
Somehow this image feels right.
Imagination carries me away…
I see William Shakespeare, on a midsummer night, sitting alone under a beautiful green tent at the beach. The flaps have been tied back, allowing the unseasonably warm sea breezes to touch his face. The ocean roars in his ears. As he looks up at the stars, all is revealed…To thine own self be TRUE.
TRUTH just doesn’t get any better than that.
Native Americans believe that Dolphins are the keepers of the sacred breath of life. If you have ever watched a Dolphin swim, you will observe a beautiful rhythm as they move through the water and breath before submerging; then hold their breath for the duration while underwater. When Dolphins resurface, they will blow out their breath in a manner which sounds like the popping of a cork. Humans can learn much from this technique; as a ‘popping’ forceful exhale is a terrific remedy for releasing stress and tension.
Dolphin is a messenger of Manna or the life force which exists in every material particle of energy. Some relate this to the Great Spirit’s essence. Dolphin teaches us to use Manna or energy through breath; revitalizing and healing each organ and cell.
There is a Native American story describing the power of Dolphin. In Jamie Sams and David Carson’s book Medicine Cards they share their interpretation,
“Dolphin was traveling the oceans one day as Grandmother Moon was weaving the patterns of the tides. Grandmother Moon asked Dolphin to learn her rhythms so that he could open his female side to her silvery light. Dolphin began to swim to the rhythm of her tide weaving, and learned to breathe in a new way. As Dolphin continued to use this new rhythm, he entered the Dreamtime. This reality was a new and different place from the seas he had known.
Dolphin came to discover underwater cities in the Dreamtime and was given the gift of the primordial tongue. This new language was the sound-language…Dolphin learned that all communication was pattern and rhythm and that the new aspect of communication was sound; he carries this original pattern to this day.
Dolphin returned to the ocean of the Great Mother and was very sad until Whale came by and told Dolphin that he could return to be a messenger to the Dreamtime dwellers anytime he felt the rhythm and used his breath. Dolphin was given a new job. He became the carrier of messages of our progress. The Dreamtime dwellers were curious about the children of Earth and wanted us to grow to be at one with Great Spirit. Dolphin was to be the link.”
Next time you see a Dolphin, remember he is a symbol; representing the gift of AIR and your ability to BREATHE! Now…close your eyes…and take three, slow belly-deep breathes before clicking off.
Breathe in slowly through your nose. “POP” a forceful breath out through your mouth.
ONE MORE TIME!
But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man…for precisely the same reason."
--Douglas Noel Adams—
Author of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy
Photo courtesy of Nevada Historical Society
Sarah Winnemucca was a woman from the future.
An intelligent and respected translator-negotiator; she gained fame and amazing recognition during her short forty-seven year lifetime. Sarah came to be considered a powerful Native American rights activist. She traveled extensively, lecturing on behalf of her People. Passionate about education, she established a school for Native American children in Nevada.
The next time you find yourself in the town of Winnemucca, Nevada…take a moment to remember this petite but powerful woman.
Original Oil by Faye Tyler
A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone.
It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose.
It doesn’t have to.
It is different.
And there’s room in the garden for every flower.
FAYE TYLER – A WOMAN WHO DARED
Excerpt from a Chapter – 1st Draft
By Royce Addington
Awake, just after sunrise, Faye removed the plastic tubing apparatus from her nose that kept a steady stream of oxygen breathing into her body as she tried to sleep through the nights of pain and discomfort. The floor to ceiling sliding glass panels beside her bed allowed the early morning light to wash through the elegantly decorated room. She could hear the incoming tide of the San Francisco Bay just below her little balcony.
It took an incredible amount of energy and effort to get out of bed but she knew it would be worth the exertion. Faye reached for her shell pink cameo coloured bathrobe draped across the back of her favorite antique Louis XVI chair. Slowly she put it on, tying the cognac coloured ribbon at the neck in a loose flowing bow down the front of her cherished chiffon layered sheath. Faye loved how the satin ribbon felt as it slid through her artistic hands.
Every morning, her routine was the same. She padded the few short steps into the tiny galley kitchen to make a first cup of strong instant Yuban coffee. She waited impatiently for the water to boil. The day was going to be glorious and she was bursting with the desire to throw open the glass doors and wander among the profusion of her beloved flowers.
At 79, Faye had transformed her twenty by eight foot deck into a veritable wonderland of artistic beauty and serenity. Over the years, she had acquired an incredible eye for designing spaces, combining shapes, colours and fragrances. For the last few years, this unassuming weathered wooden deck had become her world and her canvas. Huge verdigris pots and flower boxes filled with masses of blooming old roses the colours of sunset danced with enormous hydrangeas and lilies of the Nile. There were pansies and marigolds. Japanese poppies and lilac. Nasturtiums and a morning glory vine gone mad. In the corner, she had the gardener place a five foot tall Myers Lemon tree which filled the sea air with a delicious tangy fragrance. Her naughty orange tabby named Thomas claimed this pot as his very own. Every afternoon he could be found languishing there; swishing his tail to warn anyone who might be contemplating an interruption of his nap.
On this fresh morning of new beginnings, Faye sipped from her favorite English china mug painted with a bouquet of roses with an opalescent glaze. It sparkled like a bubble in the sunlight. A fleeting sense of human mortality landed lightly on her stiff and aching shoulder. Faye chuckled to herself,
“I’m most definitely an eccentric old woman who, of course, does NOT see herself as old. I still have great legs! Getting old is the shits! It’s really quite funny! Here I am cheerfully conversing with the Angel of Death disguised as a butterfly…and it’s all OK. Who was it that said,
“All is well. All is well. And…all will be well.”
Damn! I’m going to chew on that bit all day today until I remember.”
“Yes, I know…” Faye said out loud to no one but herself.
She knew this was the last chapter of her life. How perfectly appropriate that Monet was on her mind this morning as she admired her little paradise. It still took her breath away each and every time she saw one of his masterpieces. The artistic expression and passion had spoken directly to her heart. Faye mused,
“Claude, my friend, you are the one who taught me to paint from my soul! What would Oprah call it? Ah, yes…My AHhhh HhAaaa Moment! I hope you give painting lessons in the Great Beyond?”
Faye set her coffee mug on the small ornate iron table that faced the impressive bridge connecting Marin to the East Bay. This was not Giverny but it would do just fine. In her thirties, Faye had dreamed of one day seeing Giverny; wandering through the magnificent gardens in Monet’s footsteps and even perhaps painting there for an afternoon. The Fates had other plans.
Unconsciously, she took a long deep breath and recognized a twinge of regret mixed with angina pain; her heart muscle contracting as if to say,
“Hey, remember me? I am the emotion and passionate well of all you have done. I allowed your imagination and creativity to play along, but the soul of your work is my gig! I demand attention be paid! Can you feel me now?”
Faye smiled. Today would be a good day. Like no other. As if to confirm these thoughts, a majestic pair of Canadian geese gently landed on the calm water just off shore. They drifted along the incoming tidal current craning their elegant necks, looking up to her balcony with expectancy.
Dave, Faye’s handsome grandson, had told her that Canadian geese mate for life. Dave was so like what she remembered about her Cherokee father. They both shared a deep love, respect and psychic understanding of nature, animals and the earth. Both men had chosen a life of adventure and danger. Faye realized that, at this very moment, Dave too might be gazing out across a vast sea as he left the port of Homer, Alaska. Tears of pride and nostalgia filled her eyes. As she wiped a tear that had slipped down her high-boned cheek, she motioned for the geese to come closer,
“Oh…all right then! Wait here! I‘ll be back with the most delicious crusts you have ever tasted.”
And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy."
Postscript: For a short bio on Black Elk visit www.MUSEologies.blogspot.com
The Japanese ‘Toro Nagashi’ is a time-honoured Buddhist ritual. It respects and pays tribute to our ancestors while comforting the spirits of the deceased and their survivors. During the ceremony, candle-lit lanterns are individually set afloat on the ocean. It is believed that these illuminated lanterns ferry spirits “from the shore of delusion to the shore of salvation.” As they float out to sea, these lanterns carry heartfelt prayers for victims of natural disasters, water-related accidents, war, famine, disease as well as for personal loved ones who have died. Many participants fill out individual slips of paper which they attach to the lantern frames.
This ceremony unites all who participate, without regard to nationality, culture, politics or religion. It is an act of becoming “one human family” and the desire for a future in which harmony exists among all people regardless of their differences. Given Tokunaga, Executive Director of Na Lei Aloha, one of the groups that sponsor the festival explains it this way, “This is not a Hawaiian event. It’s not a Japanese event. It’s not an American event. It’s a human event.”
One of last year’s participants, writer Sarah Brueggemann, describes her experience,
“Though surrounded by masses of people, I feel a sense of calm. Some watch in silence. Others snap photos of the visual feast. All linger on the beach to witness the glowing orange as they drift out to sea. Standing aside, one woman wipes tears from her eyes, which shine brighter than any luminary…
As I walk among the crowd, strangers share their stories. A traveler who lost her husband to cancer tells me how he loved surfing in Hawaii. She sprinkled his ashes here and hopes that by returning, she can reconnect with him. Despite such poignant accounts, the mood isn’t melancholy. The feeling is one of shared contentment…
Everyone waits with anticipation for the ceremony to begin. Buddhist monks in crimson and gold robes walk solemnly to a hibiscus-ringed stage. Powerful drumming and chanting resonates through the assembly. As the sun sets, outrigger canoes paddle into position. A double-hull craft transports six large “parent” lanterns which sit on delicately carved bases that resemble canoes. Some have masts with gossamer sails. People line the banks with lanterns, forming a radiant arc. Once released, the flames move toward the horizon, seeming to disappear over the earth’s edge.”
Next year I hope to be standing on the shores of Ala Moana Beach.
I will light my lanterns for Faye, Jan, Paula & John, Walt, Harry, Max and Thomas. On slips of paper attached to each lantern, I will end my private tribute with a quote by Og Mandino,
“I will love the light for it shows me the way,
yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.”
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery--
“FINISH EVERY DAY AND BE DONE WITH IT.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.
TOMORROW IS A NEW DAY.
Begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit
to be cumbered with your old nonsense.
THIS DAY IS ALL THAT IS GOOD AND FAIR.
It is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays.”
Thank you Ralph Waldo Emerson!
By Maxfield Parrish
Cover for Ladies’ Home Journal 1904
"IF YOU HAVE BUILT CASTLES IN THE AIR,
YOUR WORK NEED NOT BE LOST;
THAT IS WHERE THEY SHOULD BE.
PUT THE FOUNDATIONS UNDER THEM."
--Henry David Thoreau--
T o Thine Own Self Be True
Y earning for the Creative & Inspirational “Yummies” of Life!
In all our pursuits, we have learned there is great power in practicing THE FUN FULL-osophy! This week we nominate the talented and imaginative Robert Fulghum as our Team Captain. He suggests that:
“Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either – not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with their imagination. "
TODAY, COLOR THE WORLD WITH YOUR IMAGINATION!
Up, Up and Away…
IF IT IS TRUTHFUL AND NOT HELPFUL, DON’T SAY IT.
IF IT IS NOT TRUTHFUL AND HELPFUL, DON’T SAY IT.
IF IT IS TRUTHFUL AND HELPFUL, WAIT FOR THE RIGHT TIME.”
‘The Enlightened One’
WATCHING THE DANCERS
Photo by Edward S. Curtis
THIS IS THE HOUR
The Hopi Nation Elders Speak
“You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour.
And there are things to be considered.
Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.
This could be a good time!
There is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold onto the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination.
The Elders say we must let go of the shore.
Push off into the middle of the river.
Keep our eyes open and our heads above the water.
See who is in there with you and celebrate.
At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally.
Least of all, ourselves.
For the moment that we do,
Our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
The time of the lone wolf is over.
Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for."
WHAT DO SOPHIA AND ALBERT HAVE IN COMMON?
THEY BOTH BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF CREATIVITY!
THE WORD CREATE COMES FROM THE LATIN CREATUS:
To bring into being that which is original, innovative or imaginative.
To cause to exist; produce; to evolve from one’s own thought.
QUOTES FOR THE DAY:
“Imagination is more important than knowledge”
“There is a fountain of youth; it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of the people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will have truly defeated age.”
“This day I have imagined something wonderful that I shall surely CREATE!”
CREATIVE QUESTION FOR THE DAY:
COULD E = MC2… REALLY MEAN…
ENERGY = MIND X CREATIVITY to the 2nd POWER?
It was an amazingly beautiful fall afternoon. In the glowing golden coastal light, we shared a memorable meal with a charming unconventional man who once lived in Asia for many years as a practicing Buddhist monk even though he was a born and bred Yank. We had been casual friends; initiates to the early morning “regulars” who met at the Parkside Café in Stinson Beach on our way “over the hill”. This transient group of eclectic “locals” enjoyed many a lively conversation and debate. Bob always sat in the same place at the counter and did not appreciate anyone claiming “his spot” which, inevitably, made it all the more motivating (FUN!) to arrive at the café before he did and commandeer it.
Bob is a thinking man with a deliciously irreverent sense of humor and a profound sense about life. On this particular evening, we shared some very upsetting business/financial issues and our recent discovery of irrevocable betrayals by people we had implicitly trusted and respected…family…a brother. Bob listened intently, without interruption. When we had finished our story, he took out a pen and wrote something on a small piece of paper torn from the bottom of our dinner receipt. Without a word, he pushed the paper across the table. It read,
“He who clings to a moment of joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise”
We looked at him, somewhat puzzled as to what these words actually mean. Bob serenely sipped from his glass of wine. He smiled as he leaned forward and gently said,
“Remember…it’s a journey…all of it. Ask yourself, “What am I learning?”
Never give your personal freedom to another. Decide what teaches you; what makes you a more compassionate person. Guard your spirit, imagination, creative intellect and physical life. Disengage from those people, places and things that harm your essential self. Discovering betrayal…turning and walking away from betrayal…may just be your road to authentic freedom. Let these painful chords teach you but then allow them to fall away and disappear into the light of the universe. Once you truly learn to protect yourself; your “essential self” will ripple and dance with the magnificence of “being” and “living life” in the present moment. This is the essence of joy; a feeling that flies in and out of life on the wings of a moment. It’s illusive and immune to captivity.
We each carry a powerful and unique spiritual imprint. Follow the path of love, kindness gratitude and compassion towards yourself as well as others. Each moment waits to fill you with an awareness and energetic source beyond imagining. The panoramic view of Eternity’s sunrise is always right here (he snaps his fingers)!”
Almost a decade has passed. Writing about it today, from the perspective of a radically changed life (an eight year adventure story in progress) where we live happily ever after in a land far far away (most of the time anyway) still has the capacity to bring tears of wonder and gratitude. Powerful words at a pivotal moment can change lives. It did ours.
Cheers to you Bob where ever you may be.
Never underestimate the power you possess to change yourself and your life.
This exceptional photo was taken by Y. Nagaskai; winner of the “LOVE” category in the M.I.L.K. Photographic Competition. The description reads: “Holding hands in the surf – an elderly couple get away from it all on Sandy Hook Beach in New Jersey, USA”
DO ONLY THAT.
THERE IS NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR ANYTHING ELSE.”
--Richard P. Feynman—
Nobel Laureate in Physics
“THE TRUE OBJECT OF ALL HUMAN LIFE IS PLAY.”
“WE ARE NOT OLD UNTIL REGRETS TAKE THE PLACE OF DREAMS.”
IN THE SEARCH BOX TYPE IN: THE SECRET TO YOU
"TODAY IS THE BEGINNING OF MY NEW LIFE
I AM STARTING OVER TODAY
ALL GOOD THINGS ARE COMING TO ME TODAY
I AM GRATEFUL TO BE ALIVE
I SEE BEAUTY ALL AROUND ME
I LIVE WITH PASSION AND PURPOSE
I TAKE TIME TO LAUGH AND PLAY EVERY DAY
I AM AWAKE, ENERGIZED AND ALIVE
I FOCUS ON ALL THE GOOD THINGS IN LIFE
AND GIVE THANKS FOR THEM
I AM AT PEACE AND ONE WITH EVERYTHING
I FEEL THE LOVE, THE JOY, THE ABUNDANCE
I AM FREE TO BE MYSELF
I AM MAGNIFICENCE IN HUMAN FORM
I AM THE PERFECTION OF LIFE
I AM GRATEFUL TO BE…
TODAY IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE"
--Text From The Video--
An Original Painting by Faye Tyler (1910-1990)
“I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have the light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost.”
--HENRI MATISSE (1869-1954)--
From The Prophet
By Khalil Gibran
Then Almitra spoke again and said,
“And what of Marriage, master?”
And he answered saying:
You were born together
And together you shall be forevermore
You shall be together
When white wings of death scatter your days
Aye, you shall be together
Even in the silent memory of God
But let there be spaces in your togetherness
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you
Love one another
But make not a bond of love
Let it rather be
A moving sea
Between the shores of your souls
Fill each other’s cup
But drink not from one cup
Give one another of your bread
But eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together
But let each one of you be alone
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
Though they quiver with the same music
Give your hearts
But not into each other’s keeping
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts
And stand together
Yet, not too near together
For the pillars of the temple stand apart
And the oak tree and the cypress grow
Not in each other’s shadow
To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out for another is to risk involvement.
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas…your dreams
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To hope is to despair.
To try is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing.
They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
But they simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love and live.
Chained by their certitudes they are a slave.
They have forfeited freedom.
Only a person who risks is truly free.
The greatest risk is to risk nothing at all.
Postcript: We can’t seem to locate the official documentation clarifying exactly who wrote this powerful piece. It has been attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, T.S. Eliot and Dr. Earl Reun. These Museologists are willing to accept the idea of a collaboration through time and space….because, after all…imagination, inspiration and creativity are timeless.
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid’s music.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Death Is Nothing At All
By Canon Henry Scott-Holland (1847–1918)
Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral, England
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and You are You
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
By: Robert Service
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past.
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the Truth at last.
He has failed. He has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha. Ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.
Your epitaphic rhyme.
Your life is but a little beat
Within the heart of Time.
A laugh lest you may moan;
A little blame, a little fame,
A star gleam on your stone.
Artwork by Patricia J. Mosca (www.pjmosca.blogspot.com)
And what do we choose to see
Beware and go with caution
For it’s a place you will forever “BE”
There’s no turning back
The essence unfolds…
Pungent and Powerful
Personal Truths may await you
Stark realizations unwittingly keep you bound
Ruthless disappointment may reign within
Hope and Desire
They MUST be found!
Transparent as dragonfly wings
Thick as crimson blood
What is revealed
May be quite clear
If all fears were but illusion
The inner critics banished for eternity
Self-sabotage would be non-existent
This freedom is Passion’s key
Without self-doubt or recrimination
Where could our imaginations flow
Possibilities are infinite
The sweet heart of our inner Universe
Always waits to tell us so…
By Royce Addington
Through the Looking Glass
What do we see
A Mirror Image
Into the darkness
We fall so far
It’s part of the process
Who we are
It’s really all the same
Our mind is an ocean
Swimmers in a cosmic game
What colour is illusion
Can we begin to know
Let’s choose to believe
Clear melting snow
The elixir for magic
Reflections in hand
Look one more time
They are smiling at you!
There you will find an incredible Energy Source
Beyond your broadest imagining
It is Light and Healing
The Force of Nature
The Essence of Love"
Royce is honoured that www.joyofquotes.com considers this as a Joy Quote