We’ve all been where I am–at the end of something old, on the cusp of something new…  I am here, and I find myself excited, anxious, tired, ready. 

On Thursday, I end a 15 year career as a sales professional. I’m sure I was selling well before I was 20, but at 20 I started to really make the money from it.  I remember being told that sales professionals earn more than attorneys.  As someone who loved the idea of being an attorney, I loved making more money than them even more. 

I’ve always been great at selling.  John, a friend who I met as a client, didn’t realize when I closed him until well after the fact.  Yes, I’m that good. I enjoyed working in a majorily male environment, and dominating it.  I really loved when I saw the look on a person’s face that told me they’d underestimated who I was in the conversation.  Getting that look out of the top executive of a Fortune 1000 company was thrilling.  I liked even better when they attempted to steal me away from my company.

Sales training and management was an even better fit for me.  I liked to help people reach their potential.  Also, any honest instructor will [should] admit that there is a skotch of narcissism in teaching.  We want to create little images of ourselves–our own version of playing God–and make people better than they were when they walked through the door.   I fully admit that there is a sense of pride in helping people.  Connecting that to my wallet was even better.  I quickly learned to see people in terms of dollars and cents–trainable and disposable.  Because firing people was never enjoyable, I learned the art of “talking people out” of the position–getting them to resign by helping them to understand the position wasn’t the right fit.  Of course, this was a sale, too.  The profit, however, was perceived compassion for me, perceived saved face for the individual in the hot seat.

At some point before going to California, I realized that all of the 5 star hotels in the world could not make me continue to love the world of sales (even though the Ritz Carlton Amelia Island was close).  My infatuation with fancy cars, high end dinners and wines, and a company expense account ended.  I just didn’t care.  At some point, I realized that I didn’t want to be a corporate whore anymore.  I didn’t love the pimp, and I loved the gig even less.  At an event at a gorgeous 5 star resort in Vegas, I remember being tired and over it.  The most spectacular event was turning in to my heavenly bed.  Watching middle-aged wealthy men act like frat boys without any responsibilities, getting hit on by men with rings on their fingers just became monotonous and tiring.  Blah blah, Oh, you’re buying a power plant tomorrow? That’s awesome. *yawn* I remember thinking on one particular occassion–You’re here on Father’s Day.  Is this really more important than your family dinner?  It wasn’t to me–not anymore.

So it was some time on a beach in San Diego that I realized that something was out of sync for my life.  I realized that all of the negotiating and woman-handling of executives to get them to do what I wanted when I wanted was someone else’s life now.  I just wanted work-life balance and meaning; I wanted long walks on the beach, hikes through mountains, laughter with those whom I love.

As I think about all that has led me to this place of transition, I think about the future as a teacher.  My daughter and I looked at each other about 20 times this weekend and said “that’s just weird” to think of me trading in suits and 4″ heels for chalk and homework.  I remembered, however, that I’ll always wear 4″ heels, regardless of the setting, so I smiled and thought–still training, still selling…  I’m training teenagers in how to master a language while thinking about it grants access to another culture, and selling the opportunity of going beyond the place they ever thought they’d care to go.  I’m realistic–I know that I won’t win them all, but I’m really looking forward to closing a few deals.

So I was reading an article in Time Magazine, which reminded me of a conversation I had last week.  It asked the question:  Why are Southerners so fat?

Now, I know the word “fat” is one that we like to stay away from, preferring terms like chubby, fluffy, full figured, blah effin blah, but realistically that stuff around the gut is fat–not fluff.  I was just having this conversation with Tif the other day.  Having been or lived in two of the skinniest areas–Southern California and Denver–I noticed a dramatic difference in waistlines.   (Why am I blogging about this here instead of the group blog you ask?  Because this blog purges my randomness.  SO THERE!)  The better question is, how hard does one have to work to offset the geography that is adding to an unhealthy lifestyle? How much of an unhealthy life is about geography and weight, versus relational (professional, friendly, amorous)toxicity? 

*insert segue here*

So, as you know, I’ve moved into my new place. 

:)

I’m sooooo close to cleaning out my old one, I can taste it.  Let me tell you, attempting to truly unpack every single box has been W O R K.  So, it’s taking me a bit longer than my normal move.  I am determined, though, that I will fully nest into my new digs.  Anyhoo, one of the reasons I love my apartment is because it offsets geographic limitations.  In fact, I shall list all the reasons I love my place:

• Location:  It is within a half mile of a great grocery store.  I can walk if I’m just picking up a few things, or bike if I need to stack some groceries.   It’s about a mile from my favorite coffee and nail shop.  It’s across the street from Jr’s high school.  Neither Jr, nor myself needs to use the car on the weekends. I LOVE THIS!
• It’s smart:  A fabulous grill and bar area surround a beautifully crafted pool area.   When I get hot from spending time outdoors, I can simply take a dip, and then continue said outdoor activity (as opposed to saying, Forget it, and going indoors to my air conditioning and couch).  OH, and there’s wifi access at the pool… with nearby electricity to plug in Lappy.  (It’s not too close to the water, though.)  Not only this, but the apartment is PRE-WIRED for audio in the MASTER BEDROOM (in which I have created my meditation space)!  I can listen to my music in the living spaces or my private space.  I. LOVE. THIS!
• Garden bath tub.  This speaks for itself.
• Someone else fixes stuff. *happy sigh*
• Financial implications… more money for travel. YAY!
• Peaceful co-existence.  Jr and I have managed to find our groove functioning more as roommates, than mother cleaning up after child.  She takes care of half the place, I take care of the other.   Sharing the work and responsibility of the tidiness of the house really makes everything a lot more manageable.  I REALLY LOVE THIS!
  

  Happy Teenager

• Diversity.  Okay, seriously, I was wondering where the Eastern Asians and Latinos and Black folks were.  Apparently, they were not in my old neighborhood.  I guess the Confederate flags drove them away. lol

Ye Olde Neighborhood

I’d like to thank my diva sister for non-intentionally validating my preference for apartment-dwelling.  People do not understand this!  I do not find validation of my adulthood or maturity level by paying a mortgage rather than rent.  (I find it in healthy adult relationships and acceptance of self, but I digress…)  In fact, I [currently] see it as a very unrealistic, one-sided marriage in which one is rarely satisfied (see HGTV and DIY networks).  I do recognize that I might just be a condo-person, but I’ll figure that one out when I find the perfect condo.    Until then, I do not want to be driven indoors to close myself off from the world with a bunch of people just like me whilst comparing the greenness of lawns.   (I am definitely not a lawn person.)

I am very, very happy.  

When one is very happy, one is prone to purge that, which does not make one happy… including relationships.  I have recently put the breaks on an increasingly toxic relationship, which has made me happier.  I’m not saying that ending or drastically altering frienships are reasons to celebrate, I’m saying defining the encroaching of spiritual boundaries and enforcement of one’s personal ideal are.

I know that unhappy, toxic people will make an attempt to make their resurgence into my happy existence.  I’m currently crafting a way to say in a non-8-on-the-Enneagram way that their blues ain’t mine.  It’s not to say that I am not or will not be there for my people, but the others–they must know that I am not, and will not be a receptacle for their anger and/or issues. 

*pause for happy dance*

I am also fully aware that the newness of my environment (and subsequent purge) will eventually fade, and it’ll be just another place among many.  But, until then, I look forward to a mentally, emotionally, and physically healthier environment accompanied by good friends, relaxation, and my bicycle.

…to find the life between the cracks of the concrete jungle.

I journeyed outside of my air conditioned building, around the corner by the bank, and stumbled upon a sand pit, which annoyed me just two days ago.  Today, it was a welcome reminder of the beach, the sunny days, the coastline.  As I continued on, I was hit by a myriad of smells, sounds, and sights.  Birds were traipsing from tree to tree, and singing from their resting places.  I walked past large and tiny green leaves, red and white petal flowers, and lizards scurrying past to find comfort in the shade.  The fuchsia flowers on the trees are so bright and welcoming.  I presume that these are Crepe Myrtles, but I’m not sure because I’ve never paid attention.  Today, the bark was inviting–so smooth, and in a beautiful shade of ash.  There was a contrasting similar tree with pale pink flowers, which whispered in subtle beauty.  All of this contrasted against the doors that too often shut out nature and the wonders along the street.  While I know that I wouldn’t welcome any of these creatures that shimmied across the walk in my home, I felt in community with them in theirs.

Oh, the beauty of the midday walk.  For a person who is continually moving and prefers the run, it was nice to commune with nature today; to infuse all the senses with the exception of taste.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll find honeysuckle.

Concrete Jungle Crack Fauna

Ahhh, yes, it’s not only a great song, but the present state of myself and many of my friends.  It seems like the whole world is acting or reacting to a financial re-framing of their lives.  For those who are lucky not to be dealing with that, they have their own changes that they are dealing with–a new baby, a partner working his way back to health, impending marriage, moves, etc.

When I started my journey to becoming a Spiritual Director, I knew that I was embarking upon a time of personal transformation.  What I didn’t realize is that when change is invited, it doesn’t just affect one small area.  That is an open invitation–so don’t ask for it unless you’re ready to deal with the unexpected as well. 

Indeed my life has changed dramatically over the last 3 years.   I’ve lived on a different coast, I met and surrounded myself with people who would end up being my angels, I’ve been in a relationship with my best friend who happened to be the same gender, I’ve changed careers, and I’ve changed my lifestyle.  Of course, all of this was steeped in the spiritual formation that was bringing the external me into a deeper relationship with my authentic self. 

Of course, some relationships have diffused due to people liking my ego better than my id.  I don’t blame those people–I think we all create a sense of fantasy with respect to some area of our lives.  I simply didn’t want to be that to others.  With the sloughing off of those people, the slathering on of unconditional love and acceptance commenced.  And there is no looking back.

I say all of this to say that the culmination of all of this change seems to be happening this summer.  Financial, spiritual, relational, and physical changes are already in the process of change.  I have found that I have settled for the perks of most of those aspects of my life, as opposed to living out the bigger picture–allowing the significant into my life.  I believe that we are destined to set the expectation for our lives.  If we don’t ask for, work toward, and expect the best, why should anyone give it to us? 

To that end, I am experiencing movement in all facets of my life…

I’m moving (literally).  I have the flexibility to do so without having to go through what others are going through, therefore I am.  I’m moving into an apartment that is half the size of my house,  and requires zero percent of the maintenance.  I have no desire to be in a house.  Houses are for people with multiple family members and/or animals who want to remain in said houses for an indefinite amount of time.  I do not fit within that construct.  I have a family of two + one cat.  I am not a “fan” of Houston.  I live here because it’s what needs to happen today.  Tomorrow can be a completely different story, and that’s a story I’d like to read.

I’ve changed my health lifestyle.  I am working to reduce weight, fat, and inches through the conscious effort of respecting my body.  This means that I am still fueling it, but with better options.  I’m moving it-usually to my Earth, Wind, and Fire Pandora station before dawn breaks in the mornings.  I am working toward a better sleep schedule in recognition that my goal of physical health falls short without resting my body properly. 

I am no longer in a romantic relationship, but have reignited a phenomenal friendship with my best friend.  I love reconnecting in this way, which I think is edifying to us both.  While we are working to transform our individual lives, we are on our journey to physical health together.  It’s nice to have such a great partner.  She is inspiring me in new ways, and for that I am forever grateful.

I am making some fiscal decisions.  One is removing the superfluous expense of the house.  Too much space and too much lawn = more energy wasted, lawn service, and less energy to do other things after cleaning 2500 sq ft of space.  Another is re-evaluating my professional life–return on mental investment, effectiveness, and all the related “stuff.” More on this when I have it figured out.

I am searching for a new home for spiritual formation.  I love my parish and the people in it for being a stepping stone in my spiritual walk.  But at some point, one has to take stock in one’s life, fill in the gaps and make the necessary investments.  There is a chasm between what I desire in a spiritual community and what I getting.  I owe it to myself to pursue a relationship with a community that will give something back to my id–this means connecting with my progressive peer group and experiencing fellowship in more than work groups.   After experiencing that last year, there is no way I’m settling for the alternative.  Just as the Word is living, so is spiritual life evolving, changing, moving forward.  This is essential in supporting my new ministry of Spritual Direction.

I am facing these changes head on, and looking forward to the next.  There is an amazing peace and ease in all of my decisions, which I can only attribute to divine validation.  Thank God for that.

I started the process of falling in true love a couple of years back.  I was falling in love with my most connected relationship I had ever experienced–that with my coven sisters.  The Coven derived it’s name from a passing comment about this close-nit circle of women whom shared an almost magical kinship.  We got each other, we felt connected from day one, and we really adored each other.

As the time has passed, that relationship has grown and blossomed to what can only be described as soul friendship.  These women, my coven sisters, have become inextricable parts of my life.  We love each other unconditionally.  We support one another.  We cry, laugh, drink, dance together.  Our souls are intrinsically linked–and our souls mirror one another.  In the last year, a decidedly difficult year for each of us, these women have become my angels.  Our hearts speak to each other even when we haven’t uttered a word.  We know when something is wrong, and our hearts hurt together.  We carry each other’s hearts.  I clearly and tangibly see God in them.  I love them deeply–I am completely transparent to them.  And for that, I am thankful.  I am thankful for my Angel sisters.

For them–my favorite poem (which of course, is also the favorite poem of one of my Angel sisters):

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:34)

Sure, we have to plan. But planning and worrying aren’t synonyms. Planning is developing strategies, while worrying is experiencing pain in advance of its actual arrival in your life.

Planning makes life easier. Worry makes things harder. It paralyzes our thinking, riveting it on the terrible things we think might happen and preventing us from seeing the new thing that really does.

How do we stop worrying?

Visualize your worries as a field of weeds, which you gather together in a bunch. Then leave it with God. Do this each time worry overwhelms you. Picture it: you, gathering them up and leaving the whole untidy bundle with God.

 

Everywhere around me at this moment there is noise.  There are phones ringing, people chattering, busy business everywhere.  It amazing to think that this is Ash Wednesday. 

Today I did something out of the ordinary.  This is a confession of sorts… because it’s something I really should be doing all the time.  As a part of my Lenten commitment, I started the day with a short time to pray for the world:

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

After spending a brief moment in silence sending special prayers of peace to those in need, I ran out of the door to head to work.  For once, I didn’t turn on my stereo–an oddity in my world.  I wanted to silence my mind and just concentrate on making the trek into the busy Galleria area.   I, then, remembered that I had a book of meditations that I’d be using over the next forty days that focused on “peace and compassion to heal a hurting world.”  I pulled it out at the stoplight before my office and meditated on the following:

“In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.” Mark 1:35

The meditation was on alone time with God.  It said:

For so much of the day we’re so busy that God can’t get a word in edgewise.  The time you spend in quiet prayer multiplies the value of all your other time.  It puts things in perspective, helps you see the bigger picture of your life.  You distinguish between the important and the merely urgent.  The most enthusiastic people person in the world still needs some time with God.  Nobody will give it to you, so you ahve to claim it for yourself.”

Call it God, the Divine, the Universe–for me, She is God, He is Love.  Communing with the Divine is the way that I can make myself available to those who love me, and to open myself to love.  So, today I spent some time with Her, and I’ve also claimed time with this community for whom I ask blessings on this start of Lent.  In honor of my Lenten commitment of letting my life speak positively,  I ask you to consider taking time to rest in silence and in community with the world.

Today I feel more present, with ample time to be open to others and their needs.  Today, I don’t succumb to the cacophony of phones, voices, and unintentional busy-ness.  Today, for a moment, I take time to rest in prayerful silence with my global community.  Have you taken time to rest today?

I realized that my last post was in January.  Since I’ve been blogging, I’ve never gone a month without posting something.  It’s dawned on me that life, sickness, life and sickness again have had me constantly on the move.  Taking a moment to chill has replaced meditation time.   Without rumination, I have no need to process vis a vis the blog.

This past weekend I had an opportunity to enjoy moving meditations with my diva and yaya sisters, and Beloved.  My prayer for each of you is to have at least one person who perfectly reflects the thoughts and words that you are thinking, even when you cannot clearly do so for yourself.  I am blessed to have that in several people.  And, my goodness, how incredible the intimacy amongst soulmates can be!  This time of laughing, tequila shot taking, reminiscing, revealing, dancing, and co-communing with the Divine only highlighted a processing revelation that I’d had just before arriving to Austin.

After watching the film “The Secret Life of Bees,” based on the book of the same name by Sue Monk Kidd, I remembered just how implausible my closests relationships would have been 40 years ago.   My soulmates, who hail from various backgrounds–Caucasian, Black, bi-racial, Christian, Agnostic, Atheist, Hispanic–we would not have even co-existed in the same neighborhoods, much less hung out together openly.   I can’t believe that just 40 years ago, I could’ve been killed for loving who I love just for her race, much less her gender.  Hell, it’s only been about a decade in which I can feel safe(r) holding hands with her in non-gay-specified public areas. 

I was reminded of a good friend of mine from college who had nearly died in a gay bashing in good ole Houston, circa 1990.  I remember feeling his rekindled fear as he revealed the numerous lesions incurred by a baseball bat.  I remember several others who have been threatened with the same assault, reading about the Harvey Milk era FBI pink files, police intrusions and ridiculous arrests.  And, then, I think of Pastor Haggard (pastor is such a misnomer for this man–more of a pied piper)–a man so riddled with his own sexual demons, he would lead an entire group of Christians to act against Jesus’ very words by expressing hatred and damnation against the LGBT community.

I remembered getting followed by a woman in Dillards (which I have boycotted since 1992) while shopping for a leather jacket, and then being told that it “probably didn’t fit my budget.” I remembered being stopped by a police officer for a broken tailight, then seeing a stroke of embarrassment on the officer’s face when he shined the light on my lovely daughter’s inquisitive eyes.

These things have been on my heart as I’ve had the misfortune of reconnecting with some old acquaintances from my high school days who remain in their ignorant little worlds and spout things off about the “irrelevance of race” while joking in their sarcastic neo-con ways about our new “racism-free era” that Obama’s win has created.  These people haven’t a clue of the significance and beauty of race and diversity, the importance of embracing our history, as well as our past, and monumental need for love, understanding, and empathy.

And yet, I have this amazing group of friends who I see as strong, beautifully flawed, perfectly imperfect, and sometimes neurotic and overthinking, people who want nothing more than to love others and to be loved in return.  And we love each other… dearly.

I have no real closure to this post other than the following…

The best days of my life have been when I’ve opened myself to love, accepted my faults and inflexibilities, and learned from those more enlightened than myself.  The best relationships have been those that I’ve sought out amongst those who were working to bring themselves as individuals to new levels of growth and world understanding, not the ones who thought they had it all figured out.  The best moments have been those in which honesty and love met to form an intimacy that passes understanding.  I guess my only closure is encouragement to find those days, relationships and moments — it is my prayer for you all.

I was reminded the other day that we’ve known each other for almost two years.  Even though we’ve been together for half of that, it feels like Tiffany is the one person with whom I am willing to be completely known.  My diva sister recently said in a post that to be known and loved in that way is the ultimate form of intimacy.  I added my lamentation, and subsequently, my hope for those who have yet to experience such intimacy in a relationship.

As a woman who had made an emotional career of interpersonal relationships with the equivalent of a love prophylactic, I have been forever changed by several relationships that have required ultimate honesty–with self and with others. I am so very lucky.  People who demand and elicit that type of relationship forever change you… are forever affecting.  Beyond my wonderful friends whom I love and adore so much, I have also been so very blessed to have that relationship in a romantic partner.

I have been asked why it is that I remain in a relationship that bears a physical distance.  I have been told what  I am “owed,” and even further, what people have felt that it hasn’t been delivered.  I have allowed myself to be convinced that my needs weren’t being met.  (We haven’t even gotten to the things that she’s been told, but that’s her story…)  It took some self-reflection and time in meditation a few months ago to remember that my needs (that can be met by a human) can only be met by myself.  Anything that another person gives is a gift.  Gifts aren’t necessities–they’re the little blessings that we receive by happenstance and grace.  The people in your life are gifts around the tree–not Christmas itself.  They are the things that make breathing worthwhile.  They are not the air, nor the respiratory system that make breathing possible.  Each of us is that system–lungs, brain, arteries,..–and the Divine is the air.  When we confuse the air with the motivation to take a deep breath problems arise.

In the last week, I breathed deeply.

Just as there is a moment in which one stops doing and just is, there is a point in which a relationship transitions from being affected to being affecting.  I recognized and lovingly basked in being this past week.  There is no need to make something happen when things are constantly happening at any given time.  There is no need to demand, manipulate, shout, nor skulk.  All that should happen will happen in its proper time.  I have always been a person who enjoyed the journey of getting there.  To be so wholly focused on the destination is out of character for me.   Yes, one should “begin with the end in mind” as Stephen Covey said, but perhaps the “end” is emotional and spiritual personal growth–not a hyphenated last name, a dual income, a vehicle for sexual stimulation, or a warm body to rub up against on cold nights.  Moving to that end is doing.  Enjoying yourself and waking up to find that you’re there is being.  Thank God for being… it’s a far more pleasant reality than trying to force the Divine’s hand and bend His/Her will.

The answer to those questions of “Why?” is quite simple:  It’s worth it.

I am a far better, happier, patient and more loving person today than before.  I thank Tiffany for drawing that person out of me, and my soul friends–my enablers–who’ve kept my heart supple while a sometimes painful metamorphosis was happening.

Emotional epiphanies, change, and enlightment are good.  Let’s breathe together this year…

It’s that time of year in  which people feel compelled to do things out of their ordinary…  Non-Christians send Christmas cards, introverts go to parties, some make that trip to church out of tradition or obligation, those who watch what they eat overeat, others reconnect with people whom they seldom see.  In essence, it’s the season in which we simply do what is natural… overeating, connecting, upholding of traditions.

This is that season in which people notice obvious changes–gains or losses of weight, hair, family members.  It’s that time to catch up.  Some people loathe this time of year.  I love it for its promise.  During this time, I’ve reconnected with some people whom I haven’t seen in a while.  I remember the scene in Bridget Jones’ Diary in which she’s frustrated by this season because everyone asks if she’s snagged a man yet.  I think it’s human nature for some to ask this question.  Well, indeed, a friend asked since when have I been in a relationship, and who is he.  I said, it’s she–not he–and it’s been more than a year.  He said, “So we’ve lost you to the other side?”  Ohhhh, if I could count the number of times I’ve been asked this very question.  One was a week previous with a small differentiation, “So have we lost you completely to the other side?”  To which I replied [on both and previous occasions], “Are there sides?”

In this time of reconciliation of desire, tradition and relationships, I ask you… How far will we go to distance ourselves from one another?

Are there truly sides, as if this were a lifelong game of Red Rover?  If so, who gets to sit at the table?  Who is the neighbor who is to be loved?  When will we realize that we are one people, albeit with differences?   I celebrate the differences for they are quite apparent and deserving of celebration.  There are wonderful things about men, women, Black people, White people, Asians, Latinos, Americans, Brits, Kiwis, Nigerians, etc.  One can appreciate the variations of that which connects us.  After all, one body still has different parts doesn’t it?  Differentiating one arm from another isn’t tantamount to preferential nor dismissive treatment of the other.  They are obvious differences, thus called by different names yet making up one body.

During this post-political, holiday season, I’ve grown weary from the protests against the passage of Proposition 8, the protests against Rick Warren speaking at the Inauguration and the commentary on the other side, too.  How long do we have to shout before we realize that enlightenment is achieved through the whispers of love?

There is room at the table for all–it is time for an opening of hearts and a broadening of perspective.  I appreciate Melissa Etheridge’s commentary on this very subject, and challenge you to commit to one of my goals for 2009…

Accept without deconstructing.

Accept that everything does not have to be figured out.

Release outcome.

Stop trying to appease an academic mind by figuring out a spiritual experience.  The great Mystics didn’t have it figured out, they just knew that they didn’t know and didn’t have to know.   Centuries later, we’re still trying to get to the enlightened state of those like Teresa de Avila, John of the Cross, Therese de Lisseux, Francis of Asissi, and their contemporaries like Ghandi, Thomas Merton and John O’Donohue.  Augustine said, love first, and the rest will work itself out.

A wonderful thought that I heard on Christmas Eve was:

Is it all really that unbelievable… the Nativity story?  Aren’t we all spiritual beings made flesh?

Just as one cannot explain the complexity of our spiritual beings and human natures, the human mind cannot fully understand the miracle of the oneness of humanity.  Radical compassion should be our goal.  Let’s just accept and put an end to Red Rover.  After all, it was tiring as a child, which is why we moved on to spinning the bottle.