A beautiful story, especially for parents who get asked the question, “Is Santa real?”
~ Angela Gentile 

The traffic in town crawled. Shoppers walked faster than the bumper-to-bumper cars could move.

“Just a few more blocks,” I muttered. There was so much to do and the heavy traffic was wasting precious time.

Finally, we found a parking spot right in front of Mapes, our destination.

Mapes was one-of-a-kind store that sold hardware, sewing notions, corny greeting cards and household goods. The kids loved the toy aisle, which was stocked with board games, puzzles and “must-have” items like silly putty, jump ropes and slinkys.

Christmas was just weeks away. Frankie, Sarah and Caitlin took the opportunity to verbally add things to their wish list as they went along. A school yard sage informed them that Santa had super-duper ears and that writing letters to the North Pole was old-fashioned.

After shopping, we headed back to the car. A station wagon had double parked next to the car in front of me. Space was tight. Traffic was thick and now, I had to maneuver around the double-parked car. The back seat chatter escalated to a near deafening level.

As I pulled out I heard a loud crunch. The car fell silent. Three sets of eyes, wide with fear, filled the rearview mirror.

“It’s okay, I’m just going to take a look.”

I winced when I saw the cracked taillight and scratched paint on the other car.

“Just a few more inches…” I mumbled. Unbelievably, my Jeep was unscathed.

A woman climbed out of the station wagon. She was in her mid-sixties, with a brown hat that matched her knee-length coat. She surveyed the damage. Before she could say a word I blurted out a nervous apology.

“I’m so sorry! I thought I had room…”

The woman grinned as she touched the cracked taillight. “Merry Christmas honey.”

“I don’t understand.” Her niceness confused me. 

Her smile broadened. “I said. Merry Christmas honey. Don’t worry about this old car. I’m fine and so are you. Go on and take care of those children. My husband will take care of this.”

A gray haired man stood on the sidewalk, nodding and smiling. Overcome with relief, I threw my arms around the woman. She hugged back hard and whispered, “Merry Christmas sugar.”

I climbed back behind the wheel and watched the station wagon pull away. The kids spoke in hushed tones about “The Lady,” who now had a whole car full of fans. The rest of the day took on a glow of grace, although I’d never know her name, I’d never forget her smile.

Days passed and Christmas drew nearer.

One afternoon, Frankie seemed troubled when he came home from school.

“What’s up?” I asked as he slumped on the couch.

“Nothin’.” Which, in boy-speak meant something. Frankie’s feet kicked in an up and down rhythm that kept his body busy while his 9 year-old mind worked on an unnamed problem.

“Care to share?” I sat next to him, carefully avoiding the scissor-chop movements of his snow boots.

“Nope.” Frankie’s feet stopped. “Maybe later,” then he ran off to play.

At bedtime, Frankie didn’t want to sing any songs, something he loved to do in the weeks before Christmas. I stroked his hair and asked, “Wanna talk about what’s bothering you now?”

He shrugged, but seconds later a question bubbled up. One of THE questions parents face. In the category of questions like, “Why do people die?” and “Where do babies come from?”

“Mommy, do you believe in Santa Claus?”

I prayed for the right words. Seconds later, I saw the Lady’s brilliant smile and felt her kindness wash over me. An idea came.

“What do you think?”

Frankie shrugged. “Some kids at school said Santa wasn’t real. They said parents put the gifts under the tree.”

“Are you asking me if there’s a Santa, or if parents put the gifts under the tree?”

Frankie hesitated. “I guess I’m asking both.”

I pulled him into a big hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“For what?” Frankie extracted himself and sat up against his headboard.

“You’re old enough!” The words flowed without another thought. ”You see Frankie, while there isn’t a man in a red suit, there is something called the Christmas Spirit. But when children are very little, it’s hard for them to understand the Christmas Spirit. So we say that someone named Santa is responsible for Christmas. Parent’s know when a child asks about Santa that they’re old enough to understand the Christmas Spirit.”

Frankie looked surprised. “What’s the Christmas Spirit?”

“The Christmas Spirit is love—pure and simple. Every year, right around December, there’s a special feeling in the air. People are kinder, they give to those who have little and spend time with friends and family. Have you noticed a change recently?”

Frankie thought for a moment. “Everything seems prettier. People seem happier.”

“That’s the Christmas Spirit at work. Do you remember the Lady at Mapes a few weeks ago?”

Frankie nodded and grinned. “Oh yeah! She was so nice!”

“She had the Christmas Spirit. She forgave me even though she didn’t know me. She wished me a Merry Christmas and I can still feel that wish today. That’s how I know she shared the Christmas Spirit with me. It’s as real as if she’d given me a present with a pretty bow. The Christmas Spirit is a gift we all receive every year. And those who are most blessed, carry it with them all year.”

“I felt her Christmas Spirit too!” Frankie beamed.

“Parents want their children to remember the gift of Christmas every year, so they put presents under the tree and say a man named Santa is responsible until each child asks the question you asked me tonight. Then they can share the wonderful secret of the Christmas Spirit.”

“A secret?” Frankie’s voice was hushed with awe.

“Yes, now that you asked about Santa, I know you’re old enough to understand. But until other kids ask their parents, you can’t tell them there’s no Santa because they may not be old enough to understand yet.”

“Oh, like Sarah is too young.” Frankie winked, clearly proud that he’d thought of his five year old sister.”I won’t tell her I promise.”

“When people ask if I believe in Santa, I say yes. I believe that there’s a Christmas Spirit that visits each house at Christmas. Does it matter whether that Spirit is wearing a red suit? Or what we call it?”

Frankie shook his head. “Nope!”

“So congratulations! You’re officially old enough to start learning about the Christmas Spirit.”

Frankie crinkled his nose. “Start learning?”

“Yep. It takes the rest of your life to figure out how to keep the Christmas Spirit in your heart all year long.”

“Like the Lady at Mapes.”

I hugged Frankie and felt the warmth and brilliance of the Lady’s hug once more. “Yes bud, just like her.”

This work by Teri Goggin-Roberts is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://strongandwise.com/contact/.

Mine or yours.
Right or wrong.
Black or white.
Good or bad.
Acceptable or unacceptable. 
Republican or Democrat.
Gay or straight.
Rich or poor. 
Friend or foe.
Your way or my way. 

 I believe in the power of “and.”

 My dream & yours.
 My faith & yours.
 My marriage & yours.
 My sexuality & yours.
 My country & yours.
 My ancestry & yours.
 My child & yours.
 My reproductive choices & yours.
 My generation & yours.
 My point of view & yours.
 My freedom & yours. 

 It’s time to drop the “ors.”

 This country is big, beautiful and bountiful. There is room for everyone. Our founders didn’t ask us to choose between life, liberty OR the pursuit of happiness. They knew there is no freedom in “OR” – only when we make room for “AND” can we all live peacefully. 

So this June, when I’m ordained as an Interfaith Minister, I’ll wear a stole embroidered with different symbols of world religions. But perhaps the most powerful symbol on that cloth will be the ampersand. 

Because I believe in the power of “and.” 

(The above image is called “Ampersand Love” by Laura Pavlo and can be found here.) 

This work by Teri Goggin-Roberts is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://strongandwise.com/contact/.

I first met Mary in 1996, when our children started school together. Although we weren’t friends in the “Let’s have a glass of wine and get a pedicure” sense, I counted Mary among the women I really admired.

Mary and I began to bond when we shared carpool duties in Kindergarten. I’d pick up her son Robert, along with my daughter Sarah, and bring them back to my house. Mary would pick up Robert a little while later, depending on her changing work schedule, and we had some time to connect, mom-to-mom. From the beginning, I loved Mary’s tender style of parenting. Her kind eyes, sweet smile and easy laugh put children and adults at ease. 

Mary was born to be a mom and to nurture children. In our conversations over the years, it was clear that she adored her family and would do anything for them.

Over the years, Mary and I saw less and less of each other as our kids moved through middle school and high school. We ran into each other around town and I occasionally stopped by her house to pick up Tupperware I’d ordered. I was thrilled to find out that Mary had gotten a job with the school district working with kids. I felt sure that Mary would be a gift to every child she helped.

Last summer, our paths crossed again. I was so sad to find out that Mary was battling cancer too. Mary shared that she’d been undergoing chemo on and off for the past few years. After hearing all that Mary had gone through, I felt guilty that her battle was longer and more intense than mine. (See my blog post from 7/28/11 Got Guilt?) I know that cancer isn’t a competition, but I was pissed that a woman as sweet and loving as Mary should have to fight so hard to live. But fight she did.

When my daughter told me that Mary passed away this week, I felt so incredibly sad and so damn angry. Why Mary? Couldn’t the world use more people like her – not less? But since I know better than to wait for answers to impossible questions, I did the only thing I could think to do – honor Mary’s life with my words. This is for you Mary.

As I thought about a title for this blog, the word’s from the song, “Gentle Woman” sang in my head:

Gentle woman, quiet light, morning star 
so strong and bright, 
gentle mother, peaceful dove 
teach us wisdom; teach us love

Although the lyrics refer to Mary, mother of Jesus, I couldn’t help but think that they applied so beautifully to a woman who shared the same name.

Good-bye Mary. You will be missed.

This work by Teri Goggin-Roberts is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://strongandwise.com/contact/.

Watching all the hustle and bustle this week brought back a memory of a holiday season from long ago. I was sixteen and working as a waitress in a department store restaurant. (Yes boys and girls, before malls had food courts many department stores had restaurants where tired and hungry shoppers could refuel.)

It was my first real job and although I’d been working at the restaurant for months, I was totally unprepared for the insane lunch crowd on the Saturday before Christmas. A line of people waiting for tables snaked out the door. The hostess looked frazzled. Bus boys couldn’t clear tables fast enough and the kitchen staff was grumpy. 

My head spun with customer requests… more coffee, no mayonnaise, wheat, not white. I prayed that I could remember it all. On top of everything, the kitchen was so overwhelmed that orders seemed to take forever. I spent a lot of time soothing the tempers of both customers and cooks alike as I ping-ponged in and out of the kitchen.

One man in particular had been waiting for his club sandwich for a very long time. He’d already finished soda refill number two so I couldn’t stall much longer. Finally, his order appeared on the shelf in front of the sandwich cook. I grabbed it and rushed out of the kitchen. Before delivering the food, I decided to bring a third refill so the man would have everything he needed to enjoy his lunch. 

I wove my way to the man’s table and put the plate in front of him. And then disaster struck. In my haste to put down the soda, I somehow knocked the (completely full) glass onto the plate. 

Over 30 years later, the image of a club sandwich swimming in a pool of soda remains etched in my memory. Words failed me. I stammered an apology and waited for an angry response that never came. The man ended up comforting me!

Red faced and shaky, I cleaned up the table and rushed back to the kitchen. How could I ask an already overwhelmed cook to remake the sandwich? Immediately.

Maybe it was the crazed look in my eye, or the near hysterical tone of my voice, but Gerry-the-sandwich-cook made that sandwich again in record time (God love him). The man finally ate his lunch and left without further comment. 

I learned a lot about communication and organizational skills as a waitress. But I also learned something else. On that terrible-horrible-very-bad day, I received the biggest tip of my life (nearly twice the amount of the bill). From who? The club sandwich guy.

His loving act of compassion and kindness still tugs at my heart decades later. It wasn’t logical. I didn’t deserve it. He had every right to be upset but instead of anger, this man gave me empathy, understanding and comfort – the greatest gifts of all.

‎”The first step toward change is acceptance. Once you accept, you open the door to change. That’s all you have to do. Change is not something you do, it’s something you allow.” ~ Will Garcia 

I love Facebook. Among the endless game requests (which I hide), baby photos (which I adore) and rants (* to be discussed)  I also find gems of inspiration like the quote above.  It was posted by Chris Cade, a man who describes himself as a “reluctant hero” on a journey to empower others. 

So Chris’s quote got me thinking about Facebook rants again. (My last blog was about one of my own Facebook rants – see Kardashian Krazy.) Facebook is a snapshot of life, so it’s no surprise that on any given day, you find complaints right alongside comments about how great life is. 

Rants come and go like clouds passing over the sun. They aren’t exclusive to Facebook, rants happen everywhere. But when I read Chris Cade’s quote, it reminded me of something My Ladies always say, “Allow. Allow. Allow.” In fact, My Ladies begin most messages with the phrase: “Allow. Allow. Allow.” 

Rants are the opposite of allowing. Rants are resistance in overdrive.

Somewhere along the way we get the message that the first step to changing something is resisting it. (“This shouldn’t be!”) We think accepting a situation is the same as “agreeing” with the situation. Neither is true. 

Resisting a situation you want to change is like riding with the brakes on. You’re trying to move forward with one foot on the gas (“I want this!”) and the other on the brake (“I don’t want this!”). When you stop resisting and start allowing, you’re not agreeing, you’re just taking the brake off.

As Byron Katie (an expert in embracing reality) so beautifully put it, “Would you argue with a rain drop?” Sounds silly and most of us would answer no. But we do it all the time. (How many weather rants do you read on Facebook?). We argue with other parts of life all the time too.

For years I argued with the fact that I was a single mom. I didn’t want to be because I had planned my life differently.  I married a man I loved deeply. We had two great kids and a beautiful home. Then wham! Life happened! I was 30 years old with no marriage and no job.  

And I was miserable because I resisted. I resisted it every time I said, “This shouldn’t be… He should be… He shouldn’t be… Life should be… It’s not fair!“ 

As crazy as it sounds, it took me years to allow what had already happened. And until I allowed it, I suffered. Eventually, I fell in love with my single mom life. Nothing had changed. I was still living in the same place, I was still trying to make ends meet, raise two great kids and get them to soccer practice on time. I just stopped arguing with my life and fell in love with it.

I still resist parts of life, but now it takes me less time to catch myself. The beauty of it is, once I allow what’s already happening, I can take the next step and decide what I want now.

Thanks for the beautiful reminder Chris! 

Last week, I ranted about Kim Kardashian:

“Wow. Even NPR is talking about Kim Kardashian. (I thought I had found a Kardashian free zone.) Hitting the off button because I REALLY DON’T CARE!!”

After posting, I felt even worse. Why was I so ruffled by a woman I’d never met? I’d never even seen an episode of her show. Was I personally affected by her impending divorce? No. What I knew about Kim Kardashian came from the snippets I’d seen on morning news shows and photos on the covers of magazines at the supermarket check-out line.

I knew this level of irratation meant one thing – I was supposed to learn something from it.

“Aaarrgh! Noooo! I don’t wanna!” my inner Self screamed. But I had to find out why I saw red every time I heard the Kardashian name. So I got out my journal and did something I never dreamed I’d do – I meditated on the Kardashians.

And sure enough, during meditation, I saw a picture of an angry, snarling creature living deep inside a cave. As the light crept further into the cave, the creature crawled further into the recesses of darkness. It was clear that this creature feared the light and fiercely defended its need to stay hidden. I instinctively knew that this “creature” represented a part of Self I had (literally) not brought into the light yet.

It’s the part of me that loves to be invisible. As a child, “invisible mode” kept me safe in a house made unpredictable by alcoholism. I would disappear into my room for hours, or stay safely in the background and hope no one would notice me (unless I wanted them to, or I was mad, then look out!). I’m not an introvert. I love being with people, but I’ve always shunned flashy clothes, worn minimal jewelry and hated being in the spotlight. As a writer, invisible mode works well when you want to “people watch” (a favorite pastime of mine). On the other hand, having invisibility as your super-power is not the best when you want your writing to get noticed. 

Kim Kardashian is the complete opposite of invisible. THAT really ticked off my inner cave-dweller. Then this nugget of wisdom came through during the meditation. 

You see Kim Kardashian as your polar opposite. Yet, you are both the same. You cannot have one extreme without the other. Both call out for balance. Once you allow both, balance can be restored.

Seems Kim Kardashian gave me a precious gift. She helped me shine a light on a part of Self that had been long ignored – a small reclusive part of Self seeking compassion.  I know now that my rant only expressed the imbalance inside of me. Turns out, that if I can be compassionate with myself, I can be compassionate with Kim Kardashian. AND THAT  feels much better than ranting.

I’m ambivalent about the pink ribbon campaign. I hope it reminds people about the threat of breast cancer, but I wonder how effective it really is. But that’s a discussion for another day.

What DOES work – is screening mammograms. I used to dread having my breasts squished into pancakes, but ever since I heard the words, “You have breast cancer” I don’t care about the pain. I want accuracy. 

And so, in keeping with October’s Breast Cancer Awareness theme, I offer you a guest opinion below that gives you some compelling reasons to get a mammogram. 

5 Reasons to Get a Mammogram –Philip J Reed, on behalf of Texoma Medical Center

For women, getting a regular mammogram can be a good means of detecting troublesome changes in their bodies. Over the years, researchers have learned that the screening can be useful for spotting more than one medical condition, making this resource even more helpful on the healthcare front. Here are some reasons you should consider getting a mammogram.

• Breast Cancer Detection

Mammograms are perhaps best known for their ability to detect breast cancer. Indeed, the screening may be life saving because it can reveal cancer in very early stages and afford a woman more treatment options and a greater chance of survival. Women in their forties or older, or those with risk factors for breast cancer, should get a mammogram every one or two years. Breast cancer risks increase with age, and your doctor will be able to tell you whether you need a mammogram more often or sooner in age than usual.

• Circumstances Change

It’s always good to maintain a routine schedule for getting a mammogram because your health can change from one screening to the next. Having one normal mammogram does not mean your next mammogram will be problem-free. Additionally, mammograms can detect breast cancer up to two years before clinical exams.

• Technology is Improving

Pain is a major factor that discourages some women from obtaining their mammograms. However, improvements like breast cushions are making the process more comfortable; digital mammography has also made images of the breast clearer, with less need for repeat images to be taken. Additionally, the screening can be completed in a matter of minutes. The technology has also helped doctors spot masses as small as grains of rice.

• Convenience

Recognizing the importance of having a mammogram, some facilities are taking steps that will allow more women to come in for health screenings. Call your doctor to learn whether evening appointments are available for mammograms, or what other options exist where you live to ensure you can have your mammogram regularly.

• Finding Heart Disease

Statistics show that in the United States, heart disease is a more deadly killer of women than breast cancer, but breast cancer screening is often more aggressively pursued than a cholesterol and blood pressure check, WebMD has written. However, a mammogram can detect small deposits along breast arteries called breast arterial calcifications. In some cases, these calcifications are also present in women with heart disease.  In fact, by visiting regularly a hospital or clinic with extensive women’s services, you can catch (and address) a great variety of potential issues…before they become problems.

Check with your insurance if you have private health insurance—or check with Medicare if you have that type of coverage—to learn what mammogram costs may be paid for you and what you will need to pay as you continue to take charge of your health.

Thanks Philip! And if these reasons aren’t enough – here’s one last thought. Just do it. As someone who was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer (stage one) I was blessed to be able to keep my breast AND avoid chemo. We have come a long way in breast conservation, but YOU play the biggest role. 

One such person is Michael Tittinger. I connected with Michael on Facebook through my cousin’s husband Jason. Got that? Convoluted I know, but that’s how social media connections happen. Jason “liked” Michael’s Facebook Fan Page called, “Mikey Walks” and I was intrigued (read: nosey). So I clicked the “Mikey Walks” link and am so glad I did. 

“Mikey” (Michael Tittinger) is walking across the United States and posting to his Facebook Fan Page daily. Why? To raise money for the “Onny & Oboe Scholarship Fund” which helps families directly affected by a heart transplant pursue post-secondary education. Michael lost his first wife Deanna to heart disease. As Mikey’s website says, “A second chance to live is a second chance to dream.”

I’m not sure what impresses me more, the fact that he walks 25-30 miles per day, or that ten years after his first wife Deanna passed away he is walking in her honor.

Ten years. That’s persistence.

Kudos also go out to Mikey’s current wife Brooke – who is supporting his dream by walking portions of the trip with him and generally being a phenomenal cheerleader.

So every morning I see Mikey’s updates on Facebook when he starts his walk. “Started Hike with Walkmeter at 7:36 AM…” And every darn time I am inspired. Because, at some point during the day, I get lost in my life… my issues, my problem du jour. But when I read Mikey’s status I am once again reminded that somewhere there is a man pushing a jogging stroller (which holds his supplies), facing the elements, relying on the kindness of strangers  - all to follow his dream.

And with this my faith in my ability to follow my dreams is renewed, along with my faith in the good hearted nature of people.

College students have given up dorm rooms, people have paid for hotels and a construction worker even shared his ham and butter sandwich. With each post on Mikey’s blog, my heart fills with the beauty of the people of this country.

Do yourself a favor – sign up for Mikey’s blog  (www.MikeyWalks.com) for some great stories and to watch a man’s dream unfold, step by aching step. While you’re on Mikey’s site – find out why the Scholarship Fund is named after “Onny & Oboe.” Truly a precious story. (You might even feel compelled to donate – just saying.)

 I leave you with words from a man who is indeed, Strong and Wise:

What have I learned along the way? To follow the muse and no one else. Hear your inner voice. Don’t allow it to drown. Our ideas are as individual as we are. We may only get so many big ones in a lifetime, those stomach-churning screamers that won’t go quietly into the night. Seize them or suppress them, but be assured they will go away. Follow that idea with enough focus, determination and resolve and the resistance will weaken. The naysayers, the doubters, the stone-throwers … they will lower their shields in time. They may even join the fight. If they don’t, you don’t need them. Their obstinance says more about them than it does you. Go forward, with blinders if you must. Don’t look back. The world is conditioned to have you conform (and let everyone else off the hook). Don’t. We weren’t meant to. ~ Michael Tittinger

Perhaps you’ll pray, or participate in a memorial service, or observe a moment of silence. Maybe you knew someone who lost their life, or knew someone who knew someone. But I venture to say that nearly everyone will reflect on “the moment” you heard the news. Today, I share with you a bit of my experience, but not where I was when I found out, but where I was when I saw my first ray of hope.

After watching the events unfold that fateful day, I searched for something to soothe the grief. Living outside Philadelphia, it seemed devastation was all around. To the north were the ruins of the twin towers where my children and I had just vacationed 6 weeks earlier (at the World Trade Center Marriott). To the south was the damaged Pentagon and west of us, in Shanksville, PA lay the downed plane… It was all so close to home.

My children wondered about the people they met at the Marriott, the WTC and the shopping concourse just below.  They worried whether everyone made it out before the towers fell. My 10 year old daughter asked, “What about the nice lady with the blonde hair at the desk? Or the bagel guy? Or the security guards at the tower entrance? Do you think they made it?”

I could only answer yes and hope Sarah believed me.

That afternoon I received a call from my mom (an interfaith minister) who said she was holding a prayer service that night. I knew we had to be there, so my children and I hopped in the car and drove on ghostly quiet highways for an hour to attend. About 50 of us gathered to console each other and pray.

At the beginning of the service, my mom asked people to share their experience of the day. A beautiful woman named Kate stood up. I was so inspired by what she shared that I wrote Send Beauty – the story below:

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11th, Kate Cain-Bell was fully immersed in teaching “something important” to her first-grade class at Richboro Elementary School in Richboro, Pennsylvania.

Not long into the day, the principle asked her to step out the classroom for a moment. There, in the hallway, she heard about the devastation in New York and Washington, D.C. It was difficult for her to grasp the news, let alone explain it to innocent minds, so she agreed with the school’s decision not to inform the children.

When Kate returned to her waiting students, the class work seemed to pale in comparison to the significance of the day’s events. As a deeply spiritual woman, she felt compelled to impact the world in a positive way during the time of such a crisis. An idea leapt to mind. She drew in a breath, walked to the front of the class and made a request.

“I want each of you to imagine the most beautiful thing you can think of. Hold that thought in your mind then send it out to the world. Can you all do that?”

A sea of young faces nodded.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

And with that, a wave of beauty was sent out into a world of ugliness.

At the end of the day, Kate wanted her class to be prepared with some knowledge that they wouldn’t be walking into the same world they left that morning. Another idea blossomed. She stood in front of the class again.

“Remember when I asked you to send out your beautiful thought to the world?”

After pausing to accept their nods, Kate continued, “Well, while you were sending out your beauty, someone else sent something not-so-beautiful into the world.”

Kate paused again, to see if her young students understood.

A little girl named Allie piped up, “Well, when I get home, I’ll send them something beautiful right back!”

In the midst of tragedy, triumph comes in many forms. This time it came in the form of a young child who learned a lesson that was truly “something important.”

Send beauty.

Kate’s courage and compassion both protected and empowered these young children. And Allie responded by being a ray of hope for the future. 

Whatever else you do this Sunday please take a moment and follow the advice of a very wise teacher – think a beautiful thought and send a beam of beauty out into the world. 

Send Beauty – Download Article in PDF format

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.” ~ Lord Byron

As you may’ve guessed, life on the east coast has been hair-raising this past week. Depending on your location, areas experienced varying degrees of destruction, from earthquakes/aftershocks, to Hurricane Irene, hundred year floods and a few tornados thrown in to keep things interesting.

We’re all a little twitchy in the Philly area, looking over our figurative shoulders to make sure nothing else is creeping up on us.

Feeling the need to connect with a higher perspective (see Spirit Key), I decided to meditate. It was no surprise that my energies felt scattered as I tried to meditate for the first time since last week. Focusing on my breath usually works, but this time, my thoughts were firing like crazy and simple breathing techniques didn’t cut it.  So I asked My Ladies for help. Soon, I was surrounded by peaceful energy and able to let go any unwanted thoughts.

As my energy focused inward, I felt the presence of a beautiful, silver white light. At the risk of sounding odd (which I am), I’m used to My Ladies showing up for a chat during any given meditation, but this time, My Ladies stepped aside and another, gentle-but-powerful energy spoke. I loved the message and wanted to share it with you today:

(The reason you feel scattered and unfocused) is that you’ve been focusing your energies outward, plugging into the outer world and riding wave after wave of ‘energy in flux.’ There is great intensity to the world energies right now.  Focus your energies inward.

 Generate.

 Radiate.

 BEAM. 

 Turning your attention outward (to world energies) is like using a  magnifying glass. It intensifies scattered energies. Put down the  magnifying glass. Go within. Generate peace, calm and ‘all is well.’ 

(In addition) focusing solely on events in the world is like being an energetic ‘step behind.’ The energy that created those events has already manifested. To simplify, the ‘batter’ has been mixed and the ‘cake’ has been baked. If you do not like the cake, no amount of energy will ‘un-bake’ it. Instead, focus on what you are contributing to the current ‘batter.’

Bring joy.

Bring love.

Bring peace.

The events that have not yet manifested are still evolving. Do the inner work.

Manifest joy.

Manifest love.

Manifest peace.

(A question popped into my mind: But am I ignoring people in need by focusing inward?)

The thought exists that it is impossible to ‘help the world’, that one person can not ‘do’ enough, or be everywhere physically. So, as events unfold people feel helpless and powerless. So that is what is contributed to the world — helpless, powerless energy. 

Instead, we ask that you do what you can but also go within and generate. Connect with your core being. BEAM powerful, love-based, waves of ‘all is well.’ Above all, un-plug from fear. By doing this, you do the ‘impossible’ — you can literally, ‘help the world.’” 

While writing this blog, I noticed that the word “beam” contains the words “BE” and “AM.” What I will “BE” is what I “AM” but I get to choose what I am and that choice affects the entire world.

Message received!