I cannot tell you any spiritual truth that deep within you don’t know already. All I can do is remind you of what you have forgotten - Eckhart Tolle The Power of Now

Here lately when it comes to the lessons I am learning in life I am often finding myself asking God, “Didn’t we already cover this in an earlier chapter?” But then here comes a pop test, and I quickly realize I have forgotten some very important parts of that assignment.

Over the past couple of months, knowing in the back of my mind I would begin to create my exit strategy from Starbucks in the first weeks of 2009, I began to grow frustrated.  Some people call it “short timer’s syndrome.”  I was ready to go, in fact I still am, my desires in life have not changed, but an earlier lessons began to unfold before me again, and this time I’m starting to see there were more layers to this lesson than I had noticed before.

A huge part of my frustration comes from wondering why I am still at Starbucks, how come I haven’t moved on, and how come magical doors have not been opened to me.  WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO LEARN FROM THIS?!

I know one of the reasons I got my job at Starbucks was to get over my ego and understanding that a job making fancy named latte’s was not below me.  I learned that lesson.  Honest work is good, no matter what the job is, do your job well, and do it with pride.  Okay class is over, promote me now.

But as I have meditated over these thoughts, wrote in my journal, prayed nightly, it all began to come together yesterday.  There was more to that lesson, much more.  As I sat outside in my truck eating my lunch, I watched people going in and out of Vons when a co-worker caught my attention.  I asked myself “Is he happy with where he was in life?”  Looking from the outside, not really knowing what he was thinking he seemed to be happy.  But of course looks can be deceiving.  I then began to wonder what brought him here to this point in his life and would he be like so many others at Vons and work there most, if not all of his adult life.  Well lunch was over, my answers didn’t come to me then, but it sure did get the ball rolling.

That same afternoon, I was driving over to Jim’s house to meet with him and Denny.  I decided to take all surface streets across Vegas, I didn’t feel like messing with all of the freeway construction near the strip and downtown.  So in order to pass the time, I strapped on my headphones and began to crank out some tunes.  I love to drive, especially when I am not in a rush to get anywhere because in my car I seemed to get inspired, and the thoughts just come rolling in.

As I drove down Durango and was beginning to cross the 215 where two lanes merge into one, I saw in my side mirror an Escalade roaring up behind me, and they were going to disrupt the flow of traffic and instead of taking their proper turn and getting in behind me, they were going to try to pass me on the right.  Well my heart began to race a bit and my foot hit the gas and I sped up just enough to thwart their plans.  The Escalade was forced in behind me and what I saw in the rearview mirror was quite ridiculous.  At the wheel of this very pretty piece of machinery was a forty plus year woman who was clearly hanging onto her twenties a lot harder than her steering wheel.  In fact she wasn’t holding onto the steering wheel at all.  She was talking on her cell phone, which was held onto her shoulder by her chin, and both hands were in the air and she was dancing in her seat.  There apparently was a rave party going on in the vehicle behind me.

Of course the absurdity of the situation made me laugh, and that’s when I realized during that moment I wasn’t any better.  Who am I to police the world?  Why did I find it necessary to make someone else follow my imagined set of road etiquette  rules?  Even if I attempted to explain this imaginary set of rules to this lady she just was not going to get it.  So I told myself to just chill out, relax there is no hurry,” you are in the right place, at the right time.”

> Insert sound of a record player coming to a scratching halt<

I had a huge moment of clarity here.  I began to understand why I am still at this place in my life, wherever that is, because it is the right place at the right time.  In five minutes from now, in thirty seconds from now, when I complete this sentence, whatever happens good or bad, I will be in the right place at the right time.  There is a lesson to be learned from each second we have in this physical form that we have chosen to manifest ourselves, and that is very simply put, what time is it?  The time is NOW.  I must quit worrying about tomorrow, and focus on this keystroke, focus on this breath, and detach myself from the outcome because the future will arrive when the time is right, and wherever I am, I will BE.

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photo credit: ken mccown

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step.” Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Pour a cup of coffee, kick back, because I think this is going to be another long winded post.

In my early twenties I was introduced to the writings of an old curmudgeon by the name of Charles Bukowski, whose simple beat style prose intrigued me.  Hank, as he was known by friends, family and fans, was “blogging” well before the net was invented by the US government in the 1970’s.  Hank could take some of the simplest things in life and through his writing he would make them interesting.  He didn’t seem to get caught up in the fluff of writing, he just wrote about what he did, what he saw, what he smelled, and what he tasted.

I spent an entire summer learning from Bukowski’s writings.  It was as if everything I wrote could be titled, “A study in ____ .” Of course you fill in the blank.  I had hundreds of pieces of paper, scraps even, whatever I could find where I wrote about things like filling up my gas tank that afternoon, driving to work, or cleaning my bedroom.

What I had learned during this time was that talents are like muscles, if you don’t use them, they tend to atrophy and grow weak, but if you did use them, the pump that is your mind, was always primed, and thoughts and ideas flowed freely.  This time in my life was one of my more prolific times.  There were many nights where I spent hours over state of the art technology like an electric typewriter riffing like a jazz pianist hopped up on reefer in a 1930’s anti-drug movie.  These writings ranged from prose, to poetry, to Dennis Miller like ponderings that I was sending off to friends across the states.  I’m sad to say that I have since lost every single piece of writing from that period.  Whether or not my old friends still have those letters I sent I don’t know.  I haven’t spoken to any of them in years, and don’t have much hope.  I apologize, I am getting to a point but it will take some time to get there.

I have written here on my blog in the past about my inability to get from A-Z by going through the smaller steps like a to b, to c, to d.  I would rather skip the whole process and just go straight to the end of the line.  It is because of this lack of patience I haven’t completed certain short stories that I have begun, among other projects.  But in the last week or so I have been inspired to journal again.

Now when I say journal, this is something completely different than my blog.  I purchased a journal at Wal-Mart that is now filling up with ideas, questions, and inspired thoughts.  One person that inspired me to do this was my father.  My dad has been buying me journals for years but I have never used a single one.  I still have them all packed away somewhere.  What I came to realize was that my dad, who is an amazing writer, has compiled a number of books (unpublished for now) by combining thoughts, and poems written over many years.  Sometimes it takes a lot of work to penetrate this hard skull of mind with one of the most simple concepts like, I don’t have to write an entire novel in one evening.

As I said, the thoughts are flowing, some of it may get posted here, most probably will not.  But as I sat outside for lunch today I filled up three pages in my journal, and something hit me, it was recognizing the next step I need to take in life.  It was such an inspired moment it hit me right between the eyes so hard that I wrote at the bottom of the page.  “This is the next step.”

I am doing my best in life to walk my preach and just keep taking those steps in faith, knowing that there will be another one to follow leading me upward to achieving my goals.

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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Xanadu is a mystical magical place where anything and everything can happen.  Where is Xanadu?  Well I guess the question should really be when is NOW Xanadu?

I woke up this morning and life was still breathing within this body of mine, and what a blessing bestowed upon me, because yet again I get another opportunity to create the reality and life of my dreams.  Another opportunity to not only find my calling, but to live my life’s purpose.  This is Xanadu.  NOW is Xanadu.  If you’re waiting for some reward on another plane whether it is spiritual or physical, then you are missing out on the one you have chosen to manifest your physical form in this very day.  For me I choose from here on out to live my life as an experiment.  I’m strapping on the lab coat, pulling out the bunson burner and I’m going to test the boundaries of this physical plane and live life to its fullest extent.  That is why we have chosen to be here.

 

This morning I am grateful for the source energy that moves to and through me, creating this world around me as I choose it to be.

 

“We’re a long way from home, welcome to the Pleasure Dome …”  Frankie Goes To Hollywood and Frankie says Relax

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photo credit: cupcakes2

“With realization of one’s own potential and self-confidence in one’s ability, one can build a better world” - Dalai Lama

Sometime around 1997 I began to develop panic attacks that at times were so crippling it ended up in my being hospitalized.  I reached a point in my life where I was even afraid to go to sleep because I just knew I would never wake up again.  During the most acute stages of my Anxiety Disorder, I began to develop some strange fears.  I now feared flying, riding in elevators, on amusement park rides and going on long distance drives.

It was very difficult to explain to friends and family why I held these fears.  Their first thoughts were I had a fear of heights, or claustrophobia, when that was really not the case at all.  I used to love flying and riding amusement park rides, I spent my High School years working at Six Flags Over Texas and had ridden every single ride there on multiple occasions and loved it.  My real fear was finding myself stuck somewhere, where emergency personnel, or “help” could not reach me.  For example when it came to elevators, the thought pattern would go something like this:  The elevator would get stuck, I would begin to panic and get myself all worked up to the point that I would literally give myself a heart attack.  Another irrational thought I would have is I would be on the road traveling, and somewhere in between major cities I would find myself in a desolate area.  I would then begin to have a heart attack and would die before emergency personnel could get to me.

While these are irrational thoughts my body reacted to them always as if what were happening were very real, and because no one could explain to me what was going on initially, it made these panic attacks happen more frequently, with much more severity.  The reason is I felt I couldn’t even trust the medical establishment  to figure out what was wrong with me, and I would die before they could.

Where did this all come from?  That’s the whole point of my post today.  Let me first start off by stating that I firmly believe that the past is exactly that, the past.  At some point in time you just have to get over whatever, or whoever harmed you, and quit allowing those events to hinder your present day life experiences.  I am not saying never to acknowledge these things.  But there are people who spend their lives going from therapist to therapist, from support group to support group, telling the same old story of victimization, their mind and bodies reliving those experiences over and over. Do not get me wrong, I fully support therapy and I know people truly need help, but if you choose not to move on from veing a victim, and choose to live in the past then that is where you will live, never fully growing beyond those experiences.

While meditating, I set forth an intention to find out what some of my limiting beliefs were, and why I still quietly held onto some of these fears of riding in elevators, getting on roller coasters, and flying in planes.  I did this not because I wanted to continue to be a victim, but because I wanted to find the root, cut it out and take even more control over my life and destiny.

A few weeks went by when it hit me, I now knew where this fear came from, and it came from a very early childhood experience that I had completely forgotten about.  For some reason this memory just popped back into my head, and as I write this post another memory came back that explains yet another part of my fears.

When I was about four years old, maybe younger, our family was over at my uncle’s house celebrating Easter.  I had to go to the bathroom, after I finished it was then that I realised I had locked the door but could not figure out how to open it.  I was old enough to go to the bathroom by myself, but still young enough to be confused by a lock on a bathroom door.  There was a window that looked out onto the backyard and I climbed up onto the toilet to look out.  I could see everyone having fun getting ready for lunch.  I began to yell but no one could hear me, I couldn’t even figure out how to open the window.  I don’t remember how long it was before somebody finally heard me or saw me at the window, but I remember it felt like an eternity.  However my dilemma was not quite over.  People began to yell instructions at me through the closed window and I made every attempt to open the door but had no success.  They finally decided to push one of my smaller cousins who lived there through the window, which was a drama in and of itself, because as I stated earlier, I didn’t know how to open the window, I stuck and horrified that I would never get out.  Eventually we got the window opened, my cousin climbed through and I was let out of the bathroom, but this little event had an impact on me deep within my psyche that would not manifest itself for many years to come.

The second event which I just recalled as I was writing this was when a good friend of my father’s Dr. Brunjes, who was also my chiropractor died on the side of the road between towns when his car broke down.  This was before cell phones, and he sent his wife off with a stranger to go get help in the next town.  His wife surmised that when she did not return immediately, he began to worry so much he caused himself to have a heart attack.  Whether or not that is possible, I don’t know, all I know it is one of the many fears that I have carried with me for so long.

What’s my point?  Recognizing that I have limiting beliefs has allowed me to get control over them, knowing now where they originated from, helps me to understand how the seed got planted, and how unknowingly I allowed it to grow for so long, watering it with my fears and doubts.  In days since this memory was uncovered, I have had to ride a few elevators, and the amazing thing is when the doors closed, there was no racing heart, no tensing of the muscles, no shallow breathing, no racing thoughts on how to extricate myself out of this situation if I had to.  This is why I am grateful for realization, realization for where these fears originated from, and realization that I ultimately control my thoughts and beliefs.

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Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.  ~Mark Twain

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Today I begin my third year of the best decade of my life so far, and one thing I have learned over the last year is that as you age, pride is a trait best left behind with your youth.  I am now entering that phase in my life where the words poked and probed will be used far more often than I would care for, but I have come to accept that this is just part of the price of admission to this ride we call life.

I apologize up front for being very open this morning regarding matters of health, and for those of you who would rather not read any further I fully understand, but don’t say I did not warn you, proceed at your own risk.

At the ripe young age of 42, I keep getting told that I am still just a baby.  While mentally, spiritually, psychologically I still feel just like a baby, the body is beginning to show signs of wear and tear.  I have begun that process of preventitive maintenance on a body that I have used and abused for far too long, and I am now seeing the effects of neglect and age.

According to the doctors my hearing is bad and will get worse over time, but for now it is only really bad in “noisy” conditions, it is just not bad enough for hearing aids.  As noise pollution gets worse and infiltrates every aspect of our lives that is like being told that your eyesight is bad only when you are looking, so you don’t need any glasses.    However, I may have an auditory processing issue as well as hearing loss, I will know after the conclusion of more tests.  Basically I can hear, but my brain may not process the information correctly, this explains why at times when writing names on cups at work, I mistakenly hear Rodd instead of Todd, or Lucille instead of Jack.  I also have an enlarged prostate, and pee as frequently as my pregnant co-worker, if not more.

The list could go on if I chose to do a laundry list of ailments, but that is not the point of this post, the point of this post is that while all this may be going on, I have accepted that this is just a part of life and I need to roll with the punches.  This realization came to me as my urologist put a glove on his hand and asked me to bend over at the waist.  Life once again was teaching me that it is not what happens to me, but how I react to it.  I could either fight all of this, tense up and make it as painful as possible, or I could just relax and hum the tune “Old MacDonald” go to a happy place, and as they say, “this too shall pass.”  I of course chose the latter.

Another part of growing up is realizing what truly matters in life.  Someone famous and succesful said in one of the many books I have read in the past year that “When you are twenty you worry about what others think about you.  When you are forty you don’t care what they think about you.  When you are sixty, you realize they weren’t even thinking about you at all.”  I am definitely in that not caring what people think of me mode at this point in my life.  It sounds a bit selfish, but it isn’t.  As I have stated here on many occasions, one of the most important lessons I am learning in life is that if I don’t take care of myself first, then I can’t be of any use to the ones I love around me.

I am sorry if it seems I am all over the map on this post, but to sum it all up I am so grateful I have made it this far in life.  I am grateful for every day that I am blessed with, so grateful that all of these so called health issues in the grand scheme of things aren’t important.  They are just part of the process, each of them bring with them a new lesson to learn, and new opportunities to explore.  We can either surrender to the process of life and accept it all with grace and see the guiding force that walks us through it as angels, or take up a cause and fight and see it all as a battle with demons.

In closing I just want to say I Love You to all my friends and family, thank you for sharing this wonderful day with me.

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