My Lack of Faith in Myself is Like Superhero Movies (The Metaphor Coaching Tool in Action)
I am currently finishing up my Wayfinder Life Coach training with Harvard trained sociologist and best selling author Martha Beck. One of the tools we learn to use is the metaphor tool. Using this tool we take something painful in our life (i.e. loneliness) and compare it to one of our favorite things (i.e. bowling). The idea is to re-wire your synapses in a way your brain never would do on its own. Can you think of any ways in which loneliness is like bowling? The essay below is my exploration into how my lack of faith in myself can be compared to super hero movies. Lack of faith being the pain point, and super hero movies being one of my absolute favorite things. Read the metaphorical essay and then take a stab at comparing something painful in your life to one of your favorite things. Don’t think too much, just write; and discover what hidden insights and wisdom are waiting for you on the other side of your metaphorical adventure. MY LEAST FAVORITE THING IS LIKE MY MOST FAVORITE THING: My lack of faith in myself is exhausting. Captain America was exhausted when fighting bad guys. My lack of faith is like the bad guy in super hero movies. So I’m the hero? That can’t be right. Well what am I then? I am the courage to be me. The courage to be me is like super hero movies because super heroes save the world and if I could just have the courage to be me I’d save myself. Being myself is hard, I grew up living the life of a double agent but I didn’t wait until after college to study spy craft. I went through LGBTQuantico when I was barely hitting puberty. Learning to exchange furtive glances and pretend girls were pretty. And have crushes that were a cover story for my secret identity. You know, like super hero movies. I was Superman. The entire world was Lois Lane. And I was in love with it. But it kept snooping and I was afraid it would be in danger if it found out my secret identity. Being gay was dangerous. Very dangerous for everyone involved. My lack of faith in myself is like superhero movies because it just keeps on going. It never gives up. It just continues to make me doubt myself, immobile, inept and indestructible. Like super heroes. It’s also like super hero movies because it spawns endless sequels. I’ve lost faith in myself II and I’ve lost faith in myself: The Origin Story. And The You’ll Never Amount To Anything franchise that spawns its own trilogy. Frozen in Fear. My lack of faith in myself is like superhero movies because it’s fun. It’s fun to watch myself tire of self doubt. To watch myself notice my thought storms and toxic forms of behavior, and my searching for a savior My lack of faith is like super hero movies because I get fully absorbed in it, lost in it. I have no sense of time going by but at the same time a dull anxiety about the movie’s run time ticking away back down to mundane everyday moment to moment living. My lack of faith in myself is like super hero movies because every time I do something hard, or something I never thought I could do, I’m reliving act three, battling it out to an epic crescendo and then, against all odds, something good comes my way. A victory. Or an opportunity. Or an even bigger threat. You know, like super hero movies. Super hero movies can let me down, just like my lack of faith. Sometimes the stories don’t ring true. Like the one I tell about my lack of faith in myself. Or that first long boring Hulk movie. Or Arnold Schwartzennager as Mr. Freeze. That definitely breaks trust. I know I deserve my trust, my own support, but like super hero movies sometimes I shy away from the gripping story of truth for the saccharine story of triumph. And it doesn’t always ring true. Like X-Men III: The Last Stand, which disappointed me as much as my own lack of faith in myself. Super hero movie are just copies of remakes of older stories from other places like comic books. Like my lack of faith in myself, passed down by my traumatized family to a traumatized little boy, I am just a remake, a reboot of a previous generation. I’m just hoping the writer’s go somewhere unexpected this time. A remake, but with a twist. My lack of faith is like super hero movies because it is a fantasy. It’s one that I watch constantly and it brings me a sort of perverse comfort. The time wasting of a super hero movie is replaced by the paralyzation of my lack of faith in myself. Trading wasting time for wasting potential. You know, like the villains in super hero movies. There is always something that’s hard to believe in super hero movies, just like it is hard to believe in myself. What do I deserve? Well, one hell of act three, you can bet your ass on that.
The Hang Nail in the Law of Attraction
“Positive thoughts attract positive things and negative thoughts attract negative things” feels like a grand oversimplification. “I have a hang nail” could be a thought. “I am not good enough” is another thought, but with an added dimension of judgement. “I worry that you’ll get sick” is yet another thought, but this time a new dimension, fear, replaces judgement. The statement about positive thoughts and negative thoughts assumes one thing that I believe to be false, that thoughts are positive or negative at all. Thoughts, like all things, are neutral. They just are. The tricky part, the magnetic part, the part that activates the law of attraction is how we feel about the thoughts, what we make them mean, if we believe them to be the truth, or can detach from them as simply word sentences that don’t need to impact our being. “I have a hang nail” might not make us feel any certain way, but we end up clipping the nail. And it’s over. “I am not good enough” can ruin a moment, or a lifetime; or not, depending on whether we believe it, doubt it, or repeat it to ourselves. “I worry that you’ll get sick” can cause us to constrict with a feverish feeling of being out of control, or it can open our awareness to the fact that worry is impotent and thus heal us. So for me, the idea that positive or negative thoughts attract similar things misses the key ingredient in the equation: our cooperation with those thoughts. Granted, often our cooperation is automatic, as with anyone who goes through life totally unaware, unconscious, or uninterrupted. But life has a way of interrupting us when we settle into autopilot for too long. How do we react when we get interrupted? Do we get offended and tell life to shush and wait it’s turn to speak? Or do we recognize the loving kindness and inherent wisdom in life for speaking up and trying to show us how to be more conscious? I don’t know about you, but sometimes I listen to that still small voice, and other times I tell it to wait its turn, shut the fuck up, and let me think. I just want to think about my thoughts without interruption from my thinker, geez. But alas, thinking might not be all that we thought it was after all. Come to think of it, we probably have no idea.
Tired of Outrage & Sick to Death of Fear
Is anyone else tired of outrage and sick to death of fear? I know I am. But we do live in a very unsettling time, don’t we? This time on earth is a time of great transition, where governments are crumbling, air is dirty, politics are dirty, and our minds have become so dirty. This is not an accident, but the unfolding of a very sinister and very well-thought out design. The bought-and-paid-for mainstream media continues its campaign to bang the drums of fear. Fear the muslims; fear the terrorists; fear the gays. Democrats should fear Trump; but republicans, you should fear Hillary. All of us should fear going out in the streets at night. Black folks should fear cops; cops must fear the public; and well, hey, us…the public, we are suppose to fear just about everything. Then, when we get sick to death of fear it begins to give way to the next logical step in our species emotional undoing…outrage. Do you think that every broadcast network has the same ten basic stories and pieces of information by accident? This earth is gigantic and America is gigantic, beyond what we can even wrap our minds around gigantic; and yet country wide we have almost all networks and all news outlets reporting the same basic fear-laced stories. That’s not news, those are called talking points. And they have been carefully arranged and designed to make you afraid, and then outraged. And we have fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I’m so tired of people being outraged by everything—or anything. It may seem reasonable in some cases, like when people are getting shot in our streets or decimated in foreign lands or whenever Trump opens his fat mouth. And it may seem totally irrational in other cases, like when the delivery guy forgets your side of garlic toast or someone interrupts you in a casual conversation. But in either case outrage is counter productive. The consciousness that devastates our planet, wages war, picks on the weak, bullies the different, and lies to the willing, is the same one that becomes fearful and outraged at all of those things. The world doesn’t need us being afraid and outraged anymore. There is a season for all things, but the season for impotent anger and debilitating fear has passed. It’s time to turn turn turn the page. Humanity has no more use for our outrage and fear. Outrage is just borne out of our pity mixed with helplessness; so we rage and flail, and determine in our minds that by making some rant on social media we did our part to get the word out and spread our view point. But we didn’t, and we haven’t. And that’s okay. Because honestly, the last thing the world needs is more of us outraged and attached to our view points. All we’ve done when we announce our fear or outrage on our various social networks, or incessantly to our friends, is spread it around, and add to it. It’s time for us, for humanity to get a hold of ourselves. Not the government, not some other group or some other ethnicity…but you, and me. Don’t use this moment to get outraged and say “yeah, so and so needs to get a hold of themselves, Brian is right.” No, that misses the whole point. Ghandi said to be the change you want to see in the world, so I’m saying I need to get a hold of myself. And if that resonates, perhaps you do too. Albert Einstein once said you cannot solve a problem from the same consciousness that created it. You must solve it with the opposite consciousness. In the face of mass shootings and global catastrophes humanity is better served by our compassion. When a mass shooting occurs or Trump opens his mouth, or a nuclear power plant springs a leak, instead of getting outraged, fill up with love. Make that choice in that moment. Your outrage and fear are only the result of a practiced pattern of behavior anyway. So try something else and keep practicing at it. Take a breath, feel the blessings that are still around you, and then use your power to be that blessing to your fellow humans in need. If you dare, well up with compassion even for the shooter, even for Trump himself, even for the idiot who caused the power plant to leak. This is something you don’t hear every day, because screw him, he killed innocent people; or he’s racist; or he should have been more careful. Well yeah, that’s all true; but compassion counts the most when someone has done something horrible that we don’t understand, it is strongest when we don’t want to give it. I can’t think of any form of consciousness or action more opposite than that. I know, that sounds easier said than done. It is. I’m not saying it’s easy to have compassion. I’m saying it’s easy to get outraged. Let’s try a little harder and do something a little differently. Our fellow humans needs us to be smart about this. When it gets difficult, have compassion on yourself, and remember it would be easy to get outraged and get over it. But get vulnerable and go through it instead. We are in this thing together, creating a civilized society, whether we like it or not. So if you practice love today then you’ve changed the world already.
How “The News” Became Bad News and Now It’s Just Old News
We as a species have been infatuated with ‘the news’ since ancient times. Once upon a time referred to as tidings, often simply called gossip, and in the last hundred years or so referred to as ‘current events’, the news has always really just been short-hand for ‘the newest stuff’; and across the globe humanity just can’t seem to get enough. The word ‘news’ has been part of our collective vernacular for millennia but only in the last 50 years or so has it become so ubiquitous, and so deeply perverted as to have the power to hijack the direction of a culture or shape the beliefs of entire populations. Simply the plural form of the word ‘new’, this deeply-engrained but basically glorified slang word has had perhaps the single largest impact on our culture, of anything, ever. News flash: only five giant corporations control approximately 90% of the media the world sees; among them are Disney, Viacom and Time Warner. This fact alone should shatter the illusion that our news is reliable, unbiased and for our own good. This undisputed, and of course under-reported media monopoly reveals an obvious and sinister design to promote disinformation while the bankers and the corporations and whoever it is at the top of the top plunder the earth. Yet still, because our current information system is a subtle yet nefarious form of mind control, most fail to notice that the very source we go to for reliable information is the one brainwashing us the most. The news has further impacted the globe because it has become a normalized, and centralized form of nationally, and in some cases internationally, endorsed gossip. When a student whispers to another about the hideous outfit a fellow classmate wore to school we all know it is gossip, because it is plain to see. But when a talking head in a suit on TV, with the weight of a media outlet behind them talks about the hideous outfit worn by the latest set of legs on the red carpet we call it ‘celebrity news’. The bare fact that it is gossip is obscured, but only slightly. But it is a slippery slope. When a respected and credentialed 60 Minutes anchor talks about his or her opinion on the thought process or agenda of a presidential candidate it is still just gossip, dressed in prestige and hiding behind a college degree. We’ve been taught to think of the news as an impartial set of facts, presented to a devout public by an educated and impartial set of reporters—a free press, as we are taught in elementary school. But if you look closely you’ll see the news programs actually spend the majority of their broadcast minutes presenting opinions, and an agenda, not actual facts or practical information. The question nobody seems to be asking is “who’s agenda is it?” Another consequence of our current information paradigm, primarily based around either the nightly news or social media is that another new artificial binary has been created to divide us, blind us, and control us. Whether you personally believe this has occurred by accident or by design is irrelevant, the fact remains that our current information system is bought and paid for, leaving actual and accurate information still very hard to find. Depending on what kind of news you watch or read and how you stay informed will determine your cultural status in today’s polarized climate. If you watch so-called reliable news outlets like CNN you get to wear a certain cultural status badge and can then glare at others asking “well how do you expect to stay informed then?” Or if you’re one of the sheep in the other herd, you’d be watching FOX, but the sentiment remains the same: I educate myself by watching news, so if you don’t do this you are uneducated. The binary goes even further and divides us even more with the rise of social media. While these new connective networks like LinkedIn, Twitter and others are filled with bogus hoaxes and fake news stories they are also a massive equalizing tool, allowing anyone to become a publisher; thus widening the field of public debate and the spread of innovative thought. This new tool that can help to connect, inspire and awaken a brainwashed public is a threat to the Big Five and to our status quo. So another stigma has been created: If you get your news from Social Media and the Internet you’re an idiot. While that might be true if all you do is watch talking cat videos, or never look outside of your Facebook Newsfeed, it’s certainly not true in the case of the pipeline controversy at Standing Rock, a watershed event in American current events, and yet one over which there is a total mainstream media blackout. You can pretty much only find out anything at all about the pipe line controversy and many other phenomena such as solar roofing innovations and medical marijuana breakthroughs on social media. The mainstream media has been paid to keep their trap shut. News is called such because it was about reporting on the newest stuff. Instead of always saying ‘have you seen the newest stuff?’ we just shortened it to “have you seen the news?” Humanity is ultimately a lazy species so this makes sense. However the news does not even do a remotely decent job of giving us an accurate cross section of all the newest stuff. Science, technology, philanthropy, love, all excluded from the mainstream media vernacular. So I’m not calling it by that name anymore. It’s not “the news”, it’s “the bads.” The new credo seems to be only to inform us of awful and terrible things. Some are new, but all are bad. So I don’t watch it. An unbalanced intake will cause an unbalanced mind. I’m not uninformed because I don’t watch the news; I’m simply less brainwashed. You can find 100 new things a day and never dwell on or make
Night Time v. Play Time: The Real War for Freedom
There is a war being waged every day. A war for peace and for autonomy. This violent and sometimes messy struggle pervades our society; nobody is safe, especially women and children. If you think you’ve remained unscathed then you are not a parent, and you must have blocked the terrors of childhood from your mind. Because you don’t remember your own struggle for autonomy and freedom from your parents and your crib; or how your ancestors all fought this fight before you. As a newly minted Uncle who’s been babysitting lately, let me tell you, the toddler war against nap time and nighttime is no joke. In one corner – Parents, struggling for a living room filled with peace. In the other corner – Toddlers, standing up against the oppressive tyranny of rules, schedules, and above all, silence. This reporter has seen first hand how the violence and tear-shed can change the course of an entire afternoon. A peaceful session of painting can turn into a splotchy mess, as walls and faces are covered blood red. My niece Charlie, turning three this week, calls me “Uncle Pizza,” which I love. Sometimes she calls me simply “Unkies” to rhyme with junkies, which I love even more. Last night she was scared after bedtime because a fire truck came roaring down the street and roused her from a sleep she had just barely entered. So naturally she started screaming her head off. Her mom, my sister Cheryl went in to soothe her and took her down on the couch to read some more books while she calmed down. It worked. She went back to her crib, Cheryl sang their customary million songs to her and things were looking good. Her eyes even closed. As Cheryl was leaving the room Hurricane Charlie picked right back up, still gripped with fear, and began howling even louder than before. She asked for Daddy, for books, for a sip of milk. Anything she could think of to get the hell up out of that crib. But Cheryl refused and told Charlie to go to sleep. You see, Charlie has this habit, even at only three years old, or crying wolf. The fire truck scared her, that was legit. Cheryl did what any good mom would do. She picked her up, spent time with her, read to her, and comforted her. But when Charlie started whooping it up again claiming she was still scared, it was hard to believe. She is an expert at avoiding night-night, like a smooth talking master thief, she is a word-smith already well-versed in the art of getting-her-way. So Cheryl left the room, closed the door, and thought “she’ll just have to cry it out.” Two minutes of bloody murderous screams filled the air. Two minutes became six minutes. Mom and Dad were a mess now, raw nerves and pure conflict. Do we get her? Is she really scared or just trying to pull another one of her toddler fast ones that she’s gotten so good at? Honestly, even I wasn’t sure. My sister, unable to take the piercing shrieks was about to relent and let Charlie sit on the couch with us. It was almost 10pm. That’s when I stepped in. The battle-weary parents weren’t thinking clearly. We can’t give in to her, we just can’t. If I was as tired as they were after three years in the toddler trenches I’d have wanted to waive the white pillowcase too, and let the little one stay up late. I told my sister that if she didn’t mind I’d go in and try to calm her down until she falls asleep. Without hesitation I had her approval. It turns out it doesn’t take any arm twisting at all to get a tired, nerve-frayed mother to agree to let you approach her screaming child late at night; none whatsoever. With her nod of agreement, I approached the war zone. I entered Charlie’s room. The battle was raging. Her screams were louder than mortar shells and seemed like, if left unchecked they could do just as much damage. She was standing in her crib, gripping the railing. When she spotted me, she did something I didn’t even think was possible. She got louder. She reached her hands out to me to pick her up. I knew I wouldn’t be doing that so each hand was a knife stabbing my heart. I wanted to help her calm down, and if possible learn to calm herself. And with any luck at all she’d fall back asleep. So I steeled myself against her pleas for rescue and sat on the floor just outside the crib. “Hi, Charlie, hi. Can you calm down for me?” “I want mommy, I want mommy,” her cheeks were wet and her voice loud and quivering. I was ready to give in right there, but I summoned the strength to proceed. “I know you do, but Mommy and Daddy are downstairs right now. I just came in to sit with you until you fall asleep because I know you’re scared.” “I want mommy, I want mommy.” I wanted to die, I was such an asshole. Who doesn’t let a screaming kid have their mom. But that wasn’t the solution. I got this, I told myself. “I’m sorry honey, but it’s past your bedtime and Mommy and Daddy are going to stay downstairs, but I’m going to sit with you until you calm down okay.” Mommy and Daddy already had a very long day, they both work more than full time. Besides, my reputation as an Uncle was on the line now! “I want daddy,” she sobbed “I’m sorry, no honey.” “I want my books.” “No, it’s past your bedtime, now sit down okay.” By some miracle she sat down. “I want sip of milk.” Bingo! The one stroke of genius I had. I brought her
Far Away Storms
Everyone who comes to visit me seems to comment on just how beautiful this town is. I’m glad, because I keep forgetting. All of my life I’ve been a little—shall we say—particular; so even though I live in a town that is known throughout Orange County to have the ‘best climate in the whole state year round’ as many natives have told me—repeatedly, I can’t seem to let it sink in. You see I’m a forest lover, and a thunderstorm aficionado, so I can be inclined to gloss over the perfect weather, clean temperate air, beautiful ocean, and just generally tranquil and uplifting vibe this town has to offer, because well, I miss the rain. I miss the precipitation and the mystery; what will the sky offer up today? Will it be hail? A storm? Fog? In Connecticut sometimes you get all three in the same day! And you never know what’s coming next. By contrast in Cali, the answer is always the same: it’s going to be perfect, and blue and just down right paintable! So after awhile, for someone like me, who is used to setting his internal clock by the four changing seasons of the year on the east coast, the perfect southern California climate starts to feel like an extended director’s cut of Groundhog Day. But the only aspect to keep repeating itself is the weather. That smug, relentless, perfect weather. I’m sitting in the bright tropical, sunny southern CA weather of San Clemente and wishing I was in a rainstorm in CT. My brother-in-law and my mom are sitting on my sister’s front porch. They sent me videos and I can hear the large rain droplets pelting their metal porch like so many meteors showering down upon us. It’s magnificent. But it also just happens to be a reflection of an ‘issue’ I’ve been working…living more in the present moment; enjoying the here and now; being where I am, etc. etc. So I’m grateful that all my visitors continue to be captivated; that the beauty here, however much I may at times overlook it, continues to take their breath away. It reminds me to wipe the wishes and dust from my eyes, and be thankful for my present moment. The sky may not open as much out here as I’d like it to. But there are worse things to endure than perpetual perfection and glorious Southern California beauty. So the lesson here is that I can control how I perceive things. As all my friends point out, I can notice the quite apparent beauty. Or I can wish for far away storms. Bottom line, I am choosing to feel gratitude from now on, and I’m doing that, rain or shine.
Mind Hijacking: The Power of Self-Hypnosis
As I continue to self-hypnotize I am discovering that it is like meditation on steroids. It’s not just the power of positive thinking, it’s the superpower of positive thinking. My eating habits have been completely overhauled without the permission or consent or my will from under 10 sessions over 30 days. I have not had to make the hard choice to eat healthy since beginning hypnosis. That’s the whole point; the choice has become easy. The hypnotic suggestions are fast-tracked by the technique and go directly to my subconscious mind. That is the exact same part of the mind one is trying to calm, soothe, or access in meditation, but it just takes way longer. So I’ve moved on from hypnotizing myself in regards to my eating habits; now onto things like “more self-confidence” and “stop procrastinating”. In fact I’ve only done one session so far with the script to stop procrastinating, and since then I can’t seem to stop posting my content on my blog. I actually want to post it, which is different for me! Hypnosis is like your consciousness gets kidnapped and says “hey, where are you taking me?” Then over time it develops Stockholm Syndrome and just bends to the will of your hypnotic suggestions, no questions asked…and even against its better judgement. The war inside stops, and all parts of myself begin to align. I wouldn’t really want to be kidnapped so let me just say this: self-hypnosis is the most powerful self-improvement tool I’ve ever used, and I’m not holding that secret for ransom.
Live Like a Rockstar, Because You Might Have Been a Rock or a Star in a Past Life.
I read a book a while back aptly called ‘The Convoluted Universe’ written by a past life regression therapist named Dolores Claiborne who reports to have taken people back to all manner of adventurous lives, both here on earth, and on other planets and realms at the far reaches of the universe. She claims to have met folks who died on the titanic, others who were the teachers of Jesus, and still others who, in previous incarnations, would traverse space and time. Amidst all of this intrigue there was one type of past life I found most fascinating of all – the life of rocks. Yep, that’s right, rocks! And not just rocks, but trees, bodies of water, stars or any inanimate thing you can imagine. In her book she recounts many case studies of clients who lived lives as stones, or the weather, or even once, a robot. So I’m sitting in my Shangri-La (that’s what I’ve named my cozy outdoor patio) today resting from a long yesterday at an art, glass and marijuana exhibition called Chalice Festival. I’m smoking a freshly rolled joint of some amazing bud I picked up there and quieting my mind. As the ash grows long on the end of my smoking J I absent-mindedly tap it off on the tip of a dead flower stalk leaning toward me. I tried to wipe the ash off right after and it just smudged. The plant is going to be like that forever now, I thought to myself, and there is nothing it can do about it. Then I remember that book where people have been rocks and flowers in past lives and I’m thinking that must have been quite a challenge. Does this flower stalk have a soul in there with an opinion about what I just did? Does it feel helpless to be the master of its own destiny? If circumstance decides to smudge you, you can’t even wipe it off. As with a rock pin-balling its way down a riverbed, you have no choice but to go with the flow, to surrender. I imagine myself picking up a rock I notice nearby and throwing it; wondering what the rock would be thinking? Would it be horrified, helpless and scared as it careens through the air toward its destiny on the other side of the yard? Or would it be blessed? Would that rock be grateful to have been chosen, to have been picked up at all, and sent, by destiny, to parts unknown? I realize what I am to the rock is what the Universe is to me, it is fractal. I, and the winds and the river are destiny in the making for the rocks. Their destiny is shaped by our forces. When they go with with the flow, castles are built and art is made. The same is true for us, when we yield to the ever-communicating energy of the universe, when we just let go and go with the flow, our castle is built and our happiness is found there. It is a blessing to realize you are not in control of anything but your own reaction to life. So just enjoy what comes, go with the flow. When we start to react differently our whole reality will start to act differently in return. Maybe it’s just me, but I think that rocks!
Fractal Consciousness
I read a book a while back aptly called ‘The Convoluted Universe’ written by a past life regression therapist named Dolores Claiborne who reports to have taken people back to all manner of adventurous lives, both here on earth, and on other planets and realms at the far reaches of the universe. She claims to have met folks who died on the titanic, others who were the teachers of Jesus, and still others who, in previous incarnations, would traverse space and time. Amidst all of this intrigue there was one type of past life I found most fascinating of all – the life of rocks. Yep, that’s right, rocks! And not just rocks, but trees, bodies of water, stars or any inanimate thing you can imagine. In her book she recounts many case studies of clients who lived lives as stones, or the weather, or even once, a robot. So I’m sitting in my Shangri-La (that’s what I’ve named my cozy outdoor patio) today resting from a long yesterday at an art, glass and marijuana exhibition called Chalice Festival. I’m smoking a freshly rolled joint of some amazing bud I picked up there and quieting my mind. As the ash grows long on the end of my smoking J I absent-mindedly tap it off on the tip of a dead flower stalk leaning toward me. I tried to wipe the ash off right after and it just smudged. The plant is going to be like that forever now, I thought to myself, and there is nothing it can do about it. Then I remember that book where people have been rocks and flowers in past lives and I’m thinking that must have been quite a challenge. Does this flower stalk have a soul in there with an opinion about what I just did? Does it feel helpless to be the master of its own destiny? If circumstance decides to smudge you, you can’t even wipe it off. As with a rock pin-balling its way down a riverbed, you have no choice but to go with the flow, to surrender. I imagine myself picking up a rock I notice nearby and throwing it; wondering what the rock would be thinking? Would it be horrified, helpless and scared as it careens through the air toward its destiny on the other side of the yard? Or would it be blessed? Would that rock be grateful to have been chosen, to have been picked up at all, and sent, by destiny, to parts unknown? I realize what I am to the rock is what the Universe is to me, it is fractal. I, and the winds and the river are destiny in the making for the rocks. Their destiny is shaped by our forces. When they go with with the flow, castles are built and art is made. The same is true for us, when we yield to the ever-communicating energy of the universe, when we just let go and go with the flow, our castle is built and our happiness is found there. It is a blessing to realize you are not in control of anything but your own reaction to life. So just enjoy what comes, go with the flow. When we start to react differently our whole reality will start to act differently in return. Maybe it’s just me, but I think that rocks!
My Life is My Story
As a writer, a blogger, I live life exposed; so I don’t have the luxury of regretting any of my choices. Hopefully, in the din of my dramas and delusions, I tell myself, I can transform my latest blunder into a blog post; my latest lapse in judgement into lasting impact for someone else. So, instead of regretting when things go bad, or lamenting when I finish last, I just write it down. Since Half Year’s Day just happened (July 1, Half Year’s Eve being June 30th) I have been revisiting some rusted old resolutions I’d made six months ago and been polishing them up this week. I haven’t had a sip of soda, and I’ve actually been eating cut up fruit for snacks…yes, I mean fresh organic fruit that I cut up myself. Yes, really! July is the new January so I’m posting this small triumph here in the hopes that writing it down, and exposing it here makes me less prone to backslide into fatty late night snacks. I’m using my blog as a self-help tool so no offense, but I guess if you’re reading this, I’m kinda using you too. Thanks for your help! Now when I screw up royally I don’t get all worked up about it. I just think, damn, this is gonna make one hell of a good story.
