GIFTED FOR SOMETHING?

I heard of a woman who operated a daycare for children from her home. As she transported children in her car one day, a fire truck zoomed by. The kids were thrilled to see a Dalmatian on the front seat, just like in the old-time stories.

They began a conversation about the duties of a “fire dog.” One child suggested that they use the dog to keep the crowds back. Another said the Dalmatian is just for good luck. But young Jamie brought the argument to an end when he said, “They use the dog to find the hydrant!”

He reminds us that we all have useful abilities, if sniffing out fire hydrants is a useful ability. Some of our skills are apparent. Some are hidden. Some probably haven’t even been discovered. Some can be improved with work — lots of mine fall into this category.

Madame Marie Curie, the first woman to win a Nobel Prize (she won two), said this about giftedness: “Life is not easy for any of us, but what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.”

I like that. “We must believe that we are gifted for something.” Do you believe you are gifted for something? Do you know what that “something” is?

American football’s William Floyd probably thought his athletic ability was his greatest gift. But then he injured his knee halfway through his 1995 season with the San Francisco Forty-Niners. The talented athlete was out for the rest of the season. It was then that he found a gift he may not have known he possessed.

William Floyd still wanted to contribute and he did NOT want his self pity to spill over to the rest of the team. So he stood on the sidelines at every workout and in every game and encouraged his teammates on. He shouted and cajoled; he motivated and consoled; he became a dominating presence and a source of great inspiration for his team. He had a remarkable ability for bringing out the best in others.

At the end of the year, his teammates voted him the player “who best exemplifies inspirational and courageous play.” As much as they needed him on the field, they discovered how much they needed him on the sidelines, urging them to do and to be their best. I wonder if his newly-found life skill, his gift of positive motivation, could prove more useful than even his athletic ability?

What if we believed we were “gifted for something”? What difference would that make? And what if we believed we should do something about it? What difference would that make? What difference COULD that make? I think a lot of life is about finding that out.

Gene completely agrees!

HOW’S YOUR VISION?
One woman laughs about the time she took her 14-year-old daughter and her daughter’s best friend to a Peter, Paul and Mary concert. They were all fans of “oldies” music from the 60′s and 70′s and felt lucky to get front row seats. When they returned home, her daughter said, “During the show, we looked back and saw hundreds of little lights swaying to the music. At first we thought the people were holding up cigarette lighters. Then we realized that the lights were the reflections off all the eyeglasses in the audience.” (Thanks to “Reader’s Digest”)

My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, either. But as Helen Keller (who could neither hear nor see) said, “The greatest tragedy in life is people who have sight but no vision.” Maybe I should be more concerned with my vision than with my eyesight.

There are numerous stories of people who lacked vision. A Hollywood producer scrawled a curt rejection note on a manuscript that became “Gone With The Wind.” He had no vision for the success that movie would enjoy.

Orville and Wilbur Wright felt excited. On December 17, 1903, they had finally succeeded in keeping their homemade airplane in the air for 59 seconds. Immediately, they rushed a telegram to their sister in Dayton, Ohio, telling of this great accomplishment. The telegram read, “First sustained flight today fifty-nine seconds. Hope to be home by Christmas.”

Upon receiving the news of the successful flight, their sister was so excited that she rushed to the newspaper office and gave the telegram to the editor. The next morning the newspaper headed the story: “Popular Local Bicycle Merchants To Be Home For Holidays.” The hapless editor saw what was obvious, but missed the real story.

Vision is never about seeing the obvious. It’s about looking ahead; about seeing what is not there — YET. It’s often about seeing the potential behind the obvious.

Like the potential in people. Spotting the potential for success in a student who, as is obvious to everyone else, will likely fail.

Or recognizing the potential for something good to come from a situation others are writing off as lost.
If we want to see what is really going on, we will need to learn to spot what is not there, then act on it.

So… your eyesight may be perfect, but how’s your vision?

Now, then, as I am back in control of the keyboard, what do you think of that? Perfect eyesight but lack of vision. I wonder if it isn’t lack of vision that keeps us standing still or mired in the past, rather than looking forward, using the present moment we talked about in the previous entry to build toward a future of our own design. I don’t think any great artist started a project by simply splashing paint randomly on a canvas, then again – I don’t really get modern art, lol, or sat down to write without an idea of what to write about, or began a series of physics experiments aimlessly. No, I think for anything to have a chance of real success, we must first find that inner vision, then work to make our outer vision match the inner. If one does that, well, I think that one might be called a master, for he or she will have discovered that the path to happiness always goes through ones own heart, that the road to success, however one defines that term, goes through ones own thought process, originating within and perhaps ending there as well or being shared with the world at large. In any case, be it micro or macro, it begins with an inner vision – that vision may not be one of beauty, it may reflect a woeful life, but it also contains within it the seed to a life filled with love and purpose. The choice is always our, whether we believe that or not, and it begins with what we do with each precious moment of life we are granted, living in that moment and shaping it to our own will as determined by our inner vision. We are all but models in clay, what we become, what we do, what our finished product looks like when we reflect back on our lives, is and has always been, within our control, no matter where we live nor what we believe, this is a truth which is universal. Life IS what you make of it. The choice has always been yours. And mine. :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

There are those who choose to remain childless and to them I say simply, you are right, there are no wrong choices here. But I have to say as well that through my sons I experienced a love I would never have dreamed existed. The bright flash of new romantic love is exciting and wonderful and flares brilliantly, like a newborn star, most of the time when that starlight burns out, as is the case with most stars in our universe, we are left with but an ember, not always a pleasant one, but when that first all-encompassing delight begins to dim, as it must, but gives way to an enduring companionable love, that too is wonderful.

But without the privilege my sons accorded me in allowing me to be their dad, even though for me, for far too little a time, I would never have known this other side of love at all. Parental love is like no other, there is nothing you would not do for your child, including the cliched “leaping in front of a car” for them. This love is completely without condition, it can’t be stopped by a misbehaving two year old, or a snarky 13 year old, or a troubled teen or an adult who sometimes made unwise choices. You simply do not understand that feeling, that love, from the other end, I didn’t. Oh, I knew my parents loved me but I didn’t know what that meant until I held my own children in my arms. Until I went through as much of life with them as I was accorded. It could never have been enough time for me, I loved them both that much and still do. But even with having lost them both, I came out of last week knowing I wouldn’t have forgone the experience for anything. They taught me far more than ever I taught them. I would be a lesser man, I know, had I not had them in my life at all. So, even with them both gone, I am still learning from them, and still loving them with all my heart. We’ll see each other again, I know that too. I came out of last week knowing, despite it all, I was blessed by their presence and will always be. What a great gift they gave me and I still AM a dad, I doubted that for a while, quite a while, but I don’t any longer. Blessed be, my sons. I shall see you soon in paradise. love, dad

If today brings even one choice your way,
choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene

Lindsay Whalen, as a young Minnesota Gopher, ignited my interest and I attended a basketball game for the first time in 20 years at the University of Minnesota, but my interest has since spread to so many other sports. Because I found the same thing there. No chest thumping, no whining, no horrible behavior at all, but women who give all they have to their sport, excel in the classroom, and give back to their communities, and in some sports, like women’s professional golf, to every community they visit. They acknowledge their fans, they don’t spit on them. They are role models any parent would be proud to have his/her children look up to and emulate.

One thing that does bug me about women’s sports though is male coaches. And I don’t care how successful they are, Geno Auriemma, for example. There are a trillion opportunities for men to coach men as it has always been. Women have been playing long enough now that there are more than enough to fill the coaching ranks, give THEM the opportunities. I don’t normally preach discrimination, well okay, never do I, but in this one particular area, men have no business.

My fervent hope is that people everywhere will realize that these young women bring the same dedication to their sport that men do and they play a wonderful game, if you don’t expect them to be men, but can admire their talent level for what it is. I have been a golfer all of my adult life, but I can’t identify at all with any PGA pro, we don’t play the same game (360 yard drives and 200 yard 7 irons), and besides they don’t talk to peons. But the LPGA pro’s not only play a game I can aspire to they are good people as well, they sign autographs till their fingers are about to fall off, they promote their sport, they are wonderful to their fans and so appreciative of the ability to do something for a living that they love. That, and them, I admire. Women’s fastpitch softball is an amazing game played by amazing athletes, women’s volleyball is not one set and thunderous slam, but true teamwork and incredibly more entertaining than the men’s game. I’d go on a bit, but my Lady Gophers, ranked number 12 in the preseason polls are about to begin playing their first match of the season at Penn State and without the coach who led them to great heights, the one exception I’ll concede in terms of male coaches in women’s sports, Mike Hebert. I am very much looking forward to it. :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way,
choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene

I have had a life long love-hate affair with keys.  I love them, they get me into stuff, like my car and house, they hate me and run away as soon as I am not looking.  I could probably have built my own car by now just out of the house and car keys I’ve lost.  I had a little yellow Fiesta I bought in 1980 that I liked so much I kept it ten years, lost the keys to it so often, or locked them inside I used to do that a LOT too – twice in winter at the bus shelter I’ve done that WITH the engine running, before cell phones so I had to walk a half mile to a gas station and call the lease people to send someone out to get me back into that toasty warm little car where I had been patiently shivering for an hour – both times the tow truck guys thought it was hilarious.  Anyway, I used to carry a screwdriver and a hanger in my bag, just so I could pry open the door of that little Fiesta enough to drop the hanger in and hook the door handle.  I even bought one of those little magnetized tin key holders and stowed it under the wheel well, first time after that I locked myself out, it too had fled.  I took to carrying two sets of keys in self-protection, that doesn’t help if you lock both sets in the car.  I lease because I don’t put many miles on my cars a year and I thought those new electronic keys would be just the thing for me, the first set of them I had, I lost one set within a week.  Never did replace it because they cost like a hundred dollars.  But was VERY careful with that other one.  THEN, they came up with the best idea of all, a lock that couldn’t be locked with a key in the ignition.  I thought  I was saved and for several years I have been, it has only been house keys I lose – when I moved into my current place 16 years, before I had a garage door opener yet, the very first run I went on, I locked myself out.  That screen is still broken from when I had to pull it off so I could get back in.  The odd thing is NONE of these keys I lose have ever turned back up.  There must be 15 or 20 somewhere in my house, hiding in the dark and probably giggling.  I should try a metal detector rental maybe.

Anyway, yesterday, as I now do almost always, I had both sets with me, took them out and put them in my desk, because these ergonomic chairs, if you have a bulky key chain (one of my other tricks, put so much stuff on there that they’d be too big to lose – that doesn’t work either) in your coat, it will catch and as you stand you’ll hear this ripping sound which is how a suit coat sounds when it is being ruined.  Two coats later, I started putting them in my desk, except in winter when they’re in my winter coat.  So, I was the 4:30 guy yesterday and was talking to Amy near then when we both realized it was past 4:30, so I hurriedly shut everything down and caught a bus.  I realized when I got to the Foley park and ride and reached into my pocket what I had done and exactly where both sets were.  So as I got up to the driver, I told him I would need to ride back downtown with him to get my keys, he said he was done and was headed to the Brooklyn Park garage, but another 850 bus was coming soon that would go back  downtown – this isn’t the first time I’ve done that, three times I’ve driven in, forgotten I did, bused to the park and ride and wandered through it pressing the little alarm button before remembering my car was under the library, well, only twice did I wander, the third time I knew.  Before the Northstar light rail, there was an 851 bus that ran to Riverdale, 5 miles from my place, Foley is a bit over 2, twice I got on the 851 and realized what I had done as we sailed past the Coon Rapids Blvd exit and I looked down at Highway 47 from an angle I’ve only seen twice.  Long walk in a suit, July both times I did that.  I did learn to LOOK at the number of the bus before getting on one after the second one.  Though not perfectly, a couple months ago, I got on an 854N which goes to Northtown, not Foley, and if the driver had not announced last stop for the 854N while still on third street, I would have done it again, as it was I just panicked and pulled the stop cord and he did.  I will still probably forget I’ve driven in some time again, I do that so infrequently and my little rituals are so ingrained, that I am half way home before I remember my car isn’t there.  Although, the last time that happened, a couple months ago, as I was standing waiting for the 850, I was visualizing where my car was – Foley is a BIG place and I never am in the same spot two days in a row – when the library popped into my head as I was getting on the bus and got right back off.  I might be learning.  Maybe.

This story does have a happy ending though, because a young woman heard me talking to the bus driver and so when I got off and was deciding whether to just walk home or wait for the next bus and hope I could still get into this building (my 24/7 card isn’t anymore) she asked if she could give me a ride – turns out she used to work for us when we were on the fourth floor of the GC and remembered me.  I wish I could say the same, so after deciding she probably wasn’t going to mug me, I said, yes, please.  She took me home, waited to make sure my garage door opener battery wasn’t dead – I have NO idea when I replaced that last and wasn’t sure about the code either – and it did, and she even came back and took me to the bus this morning.  There are angels every where if you keep your head up so you can see them, unlike with keys where it doesn’t matter what direction you are looking.  :^)

If today brings even one choice your way,
choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene

Jon

I woke up last night to the sound of laughing and realized I’d fallen asleep with the TV on. It was 3 AM and I knew it was Jon Stewart but I had to fumble around for my glasses to see who his guest was. Unbelievable! It was Jesus, in his robe and all. His nose was bigger than I thought, his skin a lot darker, but his eyes were more piercing than I’d ever imagined. It was like light came out instead of going into them.

Jon was making some joke about both of them being Jews and Jesus, after laughing harder than I thought he would, said quite seriously to Jon, “Yeah, that’s one of the weirdest things, isn’t it? How could they forget that?”

Jon was all over him with questions from the daily news. What was his take on the whole Mosque/Ground Zero fiasco? Jesus said he’d seen some newscasts on the story and couldn’t believe the drama and fear it was bringing up. “They want to build a public building for prayer, education and community gathering. That’s a good thing. A better thing perhaps, would be the construction of an interfaith building, There’s room for everyone, and it’s these distinctions between religions that’s causing all the problems in the first place.”

Jon looked incredulous. “An interfaith building??”

“Yes, a multi-tasking mosque, with a synagogue, chapel and meditation hall in it. A building where people of different faiths come together to make a better world together. That’s the point of religion right? It’s not about doctrine. It’s a plan for action, an opportunity to be a bigger force for good. Religion is just the map. Faith is the real adventure.”

“I don’t know….” said Stewart, making one of those funny mouth movements he does after hearing a strange idea.

Jesus pipes in, “What could be better in that spot than a building that represents, by its very structure, a coming together, a new vision that goes beyond religious borders? It’s like taking a good idea and making it great. The real prophets of the day know this. Where are their voices? Why aren’t you interviewing them?”

“Hmm, I thought I was,” says Stewart, tapping his pencil on the desk.

“You know why you have border issues here? Because you believe the borders are real, like they MEAN something. Muslin against Christian, Mexican against American, Republican against Democrat-all those borders are made up. You put up walls to defend your ideas-and not even your OWN, but ideas passed down to you from someone else-and then you make other people look like demons. It’s no wonder this country is in a state of collapse. You don’t even get it how connected you are. You’re like five fingers on a hand who think they’re separate and make up reasons why not to get along.”

Jon sat there with his mouth open.

“You’re like children playing war games. You spend all your time, all your energy attacking the “other side” instead of realizing you need to bridge the two sides in order to get across to a higher level of thinking. Even news shows are at war. Look at how you make fun of FOX. What light does that add to the world? All the time you could be giving to real visionaries, all the ways you could be role-modeling good behavior, showing the audience how it really WORKS to bring great and opposing minds together, and you sit there poking fun at another station. That’s really enlightened, isn’t it?”

This was the first time I’d ever seen Jon Stewart speechless. He looked like an embarrassed 6th grader. No pencil tapping now. More like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

“What in the world are you people doing? The ones who call themselves “religious” are often the most immature, the most judgmental and intolerant. What is THAT about? That’s exactly the opposite of what every religion teaches. And I mean EVERY religion,”

Jesus said, as he looked away from Stewart and spoke right to the camera.

“All the religions say two basic things,” he said, holding up his fingers in a peace sign.

“First, there is no distance between you and this one you call God. God is the creative force behind all things. It’s invisible, but you are the manifestation of it. I’m telling you, the Sistine Chapel should have been a mirror.”

The audience laughs, but Stewart stares into those deep eyes of the Nazarene.

He goes on, ” You are the eyes, the hands, the feet of that creative force. That energy is in you. It’s called your breath.” He holds up his index finger and taps on it a few times. “That’s the first thing. Don’t think there’s some man out there pulling strings. Grow up. This civilization-if you can call it that-is YOUR creation. This earth, it is not a bunch of resources to be exploited. It is not to be owned. It is your mother, the womb that you sprang from. You are its consciousness, its neural cells. The whole earth is the organism that you belong to. You did not come down to earth, you came up from earth, as I did. Its well-being is in your hands. Can you be proud of what you’re doing? Are you going to be the ones who kill it off, after all that talk about pro-life?”

Jesus was getting a little worked up, like that day he stormed through the temple turning over the merchants’ tables. Jon cut to a commercial, “And we’ll be right back to hear the 2nd basic thing from our guest tonight, ladies and gentlemen, the Jewish prophet Jesus of Nazareth. Stay tuned…”

They were laughing about something when they returned from the commercial, Jesus stretched out in his chair with his long lanky legs covered by his tunic, his sandaled feet hidden under the desk.

“OK,” Jon says, “You were saying there were two things. Let me see if I got this right. There’s no bearded guy up there on a cloud. That God we talk about and fight over is the creative force inside us and around us? It’s invisible and we’re like….(a long pause) its shadow?”

“Not exactly,” says Jesus. We’re like the physical form of the same energy. The ice cube version of water or steam. Same elements, different form. The sea and the iceberg. You’re all icebergs in the Sea of God,” he said, half-laughing at his own quaint metaphor. “But the problem is you don’t realize that underneath it all, you’re all connected. There’s just one big iceberg with a lot of tips. The truth is, you’re Creation continuing the co-creation of Itself.”

“Oh my,” says Stewart. “Let’s leave that discussion to Bill Moyers, What about number two? What’s the number two thing we’re supposed to know?”

Jesus holds up his two fingers again, tapping the tip of his middle finger. The camera zoomed in so closely on him I could see a scar on his forehead. “It’s not so much what you need to know-that’s part of the problem, all these peoples’ belief systems. That’s what gets you in trouble. No one has to believe in me to get to heaven. A…there is no heaven to get to and B, it’s not what you believe but how you act that matters. If anyone learned anything from reading that Bible they should have picked up that one. There’s 3000 references to helping the poor in there. But let me get back…”

“Yes,” says Stewart. “The second thing..”

“The second thing is this: forget everything you ever learned in any holy book and just treat everyone like a brother and a sister. I mean that literally. If it were your brother coming across the border…your sister with cancer and no health care….your child unable to get an education….your mother with no food in her house. And even further, your brother who was gay or hated gays, your sister who was a corrupt politician, your brother who bombed an abortion clinic, your sister who got an abortion. What does it look like to love unconditionally? To bridge differences, to come together over what we can agree on? Can you get through one day without thinking you’re better or less than another? That’s the thing to strive for. That is living faithfully.”

“But…but…” says Stewart. “What about the Tea Partyers, the terrorists, what about Fox News and hate crimes?”

“If you think they are so different from you, be the opposite of what you think they are and enact that powerfully in the world. Don’t focus on who’s wrong. Just be a greater force for good.”

“Not focus on who’s wrong? How could I do my show?”

“Exactly. Remember what Gandhi said? Be the change you want to see in the world?”

“Sure. I have that quotation on my refrigerator.”

“Well, it’s time to take it further. You’re evolving as a people. You’ve come through the Dark Ages, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the wrongly named Period of Enlightenment. You’re now in the Information Age. You are growing your consciousness. In the physical world, you have Olympic marathon trainers who run 10 miles or more a day. They spend every waking hour in training, eating the right foods, researching the right clothing and equipment, working out, following a discipline. And in the metaphysical world, the spiritual world, you have people doing the same-they are your mystics and prophets-engaging in spiritual practice, accelerating their wisdom, expanding their consciousness, transcending judgment and radiating love into the world. You might be in that category.,.”

Stewart does one of his choking, ahem things, putting his hand over his mouth. “Out of the question,” he says frankly. “I thrive on judgment.”

“Good to know yourself. You’re all evolving at different rates. In the fall, when you look at a maple tree, you see leaves that are green, yellow, orange and red. They don’t all change at the same time. And that’s what makes life exciting. You all know different things. That’s why you need each other. Like that guy Ken Wilbur said, “You’re all right, only partly so.”

Stewart nods his head in agreement, tapping his pencil on the table again.

“But back to Gandhi. I agree with what he said, but I’ll say it a different way, just to shake things up a bit, which I love to do. By the way, it’d make a great bumper sticker:

Be the God you want to see in the world.”

“Oh-oh, sounds blasphemous to me,” says Stewart.

“You know as well as I do, every good idea starts out as a blasphemy.”

“OK, great, we’re out of time,” says Stewart, as the camera swings over for a shot of the audience. They’re all standing, some crying and laughing at the same time, the most incredible look of collective awe I’ve ever seen. And Jesus walks over like Jay Leno and starts shaking hands with them. What a night!”

His last several years were miserable for him, after he and his now ex-wife separated, he wasn’t able to see his kids so he drank, a LOT. April 23, 2009, he was in a horrible accident. He was very drunk but not driving. He underwent nearly 11 hours of surgery the first night, we were told he might not survive that because of his asthma. He did. He was in a coma for 6 weeks and he healed. He did every rehab assignment they gave him. He was still in tremendous pain which we were working on and which has to, after that much time, weaken one considerably. He had a lot of trouble with his asthma the last week. We were told last April that if he didn’t make some big changes his outlook wasn’t bright. 5 years one of them, doctor, said. He had to lose weight, stop smoking, and continue his rehab.

So, this event, since he’d made no real progress with his new regimen, wasn’t surprising completely because I’d been afraid of it since that diagnosis last spring. It was still a horrible shock and surprise because I thought we had him at least 5 more years and potentially a normal life span. Not being surprised is not the same thing as not being hurt. Apart from outings, I spent every Tuesday evening with him too while his mother worked, that week, as I left, I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. He said, I love you too, Dad. And made me promise to text him when I got home as he usually asked. Two days later he was gone. Those were his last words to me. I have to admit that has tears streaming down my face. He was my first-born, the most like me, and we got along in every way. We could, and did, always talk. He was the reasonable one, though some of that was just good acting, the good child, the easy baby, the easy toddler. I have a cell because he insisted. I would never have gotten one otherwise. He said I had to get into the 21 century, even if I had it just for emergencies. Then he proceeded to text me until I got a I text package too. He was wonderful to his last breath.

I think that is what these last 18 months gave him, not dying in that accident, was a chance to rebuild his life. And he did. He was so lonely a lot of the time and had to fight depression constantly, he felt and was so alone – stop drinking and your drinking “buddies” disappear. Which made me cry. But he kept going, he never gave up, though there were many times he wanted to. But in the past 18 months, he turned himself back into the son I’d fallen in love with a bit over 36 years ago when a nurse placed him in my arms a couple minutes after his birth. He was, despite his troubles, loving and cheerful for the most part. Willing to talk. Every other weekend (he started seeing his kids again in September – a HUGE milestone for him) since he got out of the hospital and was able to get out of the house, he and I would go see a movie and get a meal. I’d ask, text, and he’d always respond that sounds great dad. Which made me cry, I’ll tell you why. We’d go see a move, we saw lots of very good ones, eat and I drop him off and he’d be so glad we’d gone out. And so I’d cry all the way home again. This is why. For a man my age, 61, to have a best friend be so much younger isn’t unusual, particularly with parents, but it just broke my heart that he was so alone that he was happy to have my friendship and love. Someone his age should have been with friends, not their parent, and that is what made me cry.

It was a nice outdoor non-religious service. A LOT of people came, he only thought he was alone. And he may have had some portent as he had been getting in touch with people over the last couple months he hadn’t talked to in years. He WAS my best friend. I can’t imagine life without him in it anymore than when Brandon died. I, a month later, am still numb with shock. I feel like earth just after the asteroid that created the moon hit it. Off my game for sure. And I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. I think I am waiting for something that will never arrive. This time, the good news is that at 61 I won’t have as many years to miss him. God, I loved that boy. Both of them, but aching now for the one that stayed the longest with the hardest road to follow. I love you Evan, I always will.

If today brings even one choice your way,
choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene

SHE had the tool. What has happened to it, or what will happen to it, I do not know, but her magnus work, 3 SIDES OF YOU, was so far ahead of its time that I mourn not only her passing but also the loss of her creation as only SHE could interpret it. She was moving in commercial directions and I don’t blame her for that, but still, the effect her first effort had on me back in 1998 and the effect her tremendously expanded book had in later years was and is, enormous. Personally, I think the book should be made available to everyone on the planet and that every person seeking office of any kind, including those of the harmful clandestine kind, should have to take her test and make public their results. The planet would be a much better place were this true and the norm. I suppose one could lie, but Sandra was smarter than liars, who you ARE cannot be hidden. Nor should it be. Lest you find yourself leaning your ladder against the wrong building. I’ll come back to this because it is a subject I am immersed in at this time, my life is completely out of balance, I live and work in a world that is not of my design, nor my desire. How does one cope with that? That is the next topic. Unfortunately, it will be without the wonderful guidance of Steve Goodier. It’ll just be me. No worries, I’m not mean, much love, :^) gene

From Steve Goodier:

Rabbi Harold Kushner tells a wonderful story about a bright young man who was a sophomore Stanford pre-med student. To reward him for having done so well in school, his parents gave him a trip to the Asia for the summer.

While there he met a guru who said to him, “Don’t you see how you are poisoning your soul with this success-oriented way of life? Your idea of happiness is to stay up all night studying for an exam so you can get a better grade than your best friend. Your idea of a good marriage is not to find the woman who will make you whole, but to win the girl that everyone else wants.

“That’s not how people are supposed to live,” the sage admonished. “Give it up; come join us in an atmosphere where we all share and love each other.”

The young man had completed four years at a competitive high school to get into Stanford, plus two years of pre-med courses at the university. He was ripe for this sort of approach. He called his parents from Tokyo and told them he would not be coming home. He was dropping out of school to live in an ashram (a spiritual retreat).

Six months later, his parents got this letter from him:

“Dear Mom and Dad,
I know you weren’t happy with the decision I made last summer, but I want to tell you how happy it has made me. For the first time in my life, I am at peace. Here there is no competing, no hustling, no trying to get ahead of anyone else. Here we are all equal and we all share. This way of life is so much in harmony with the inner essence of my soul that in only six months I’ve become the number two disciple in the entire ashram, and I think I can be number one by June!”

You can take the boy out of the rat race, but can you take the rat race out of the boy?

I am concerned about some people’s narrow and dangerous ideas about success. Achieving more, getting more, becoming number one. Not that there is anything wrong with healthy achievement. It’s just that there is a difference between earning well and living well.

A successful life is not always a high-achieving life. Sometimes it is about accomplishing a worthwhile goal, even a private, personal victory. Sometimes it is about improving one’s character. Sometimes success is best defined by living into one’s own personal mission, or finding a meaningful purpose to organize one’s life around. And sometimes it is about learning how to live in peace, happiness, generosity and love.

Someone put it like this: “I spent my life frantically climbing the ladder of success. When I got to the top I realized it was leaning against the wrong building.” Even if she got to the top first, it made no difference. There is no merit in being first to arrive at the wrong place in life.

You CAN BE successful in ways that matter. And your life can be truly meaningful. If you’re leaning your ladder against the right building, it doesn’t even matter if you make it to the top. Any life spent going after things that count, will count as a life well spent.

– Steve Goodier

CHANGING WITH THE CHANGES

A clerk at a Philadelphia airline counter picked up the telephone and heard the caller ask, “How long does it take to go from Philadelphia to Phoenix?”

She was busy with another customer just then and intended to put the caller on hold.

“Just a minute,” she replied.

As she was about to press the hold button, the caller said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

We live in an age when it seems almost anything is possible. But a trip of a couple thousand miles in a few minutes?

Our time is one of unprecedented change. I understand that 2005 was the first year that there were more spam e-mails sent than cans of  Spam sold. And if you wonder what a can of Spam is, then you see how much things have changed.

In a restaurant, a mother noticed her eleven-year-old daughter staring at a movie poster on the wall. The picture portrayed Superman standing in a phone booth. The girl’s mother whispered to her husband, “Doesn’t she know who Superman is?”

He told her it was worse than that. “She doesn’t know what a phone booth is.”

I heard someone mention that he believes most of the changes that will ever take place already have occurred. I am sure that isn’t so. Our new reality is one of constant and unending change.

Some changes can be good and some we may feel are not for the best. Most change is uncomfortable and awkward at first. But, of course, if we don’t occasionally feel awkward with what we’re doing, maybe we are not doing anything new. And unless we’d rather live in the past, we’ll be happiest learning to embrace this world of change and to change and adapt along with it.

The world can still be a wonderful and exciting place to live. Do you believe that? If so, change with the changes. Resist your resistance to changing. Your attitude toward change is one of the most important measures of determining whether you can be happy.

– Steve Goodier

If today brings even one choice your way, choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene

A VERY HUMAN THING TO DO

Someone made the statement: “To err is dysfunctional, to forgive co-dependent.” Sometimes I think I operate that way – afraid to err and slow to forgive.

Of course, we’ve all heard Alexander Pope’s famous assertion that to err is human, to forgive, divine. But I don’t agree. I think that to forgive is one of the most human things we can do.

A number of years ago, Hildegard Goss-Mayr of the “International Fellowship of Reconciliation” told this true story. In the midst of tragic fighting in Lebanon in the 1970s, a Christian seminary student was walking from one village to the next when he was ambushed by an armed Druze guerrilla fighter. The Druze ordered his captive down a mountain trail where he was to be shot.

But an amazing thing happened. The seminarian, who had received military training, was able to surprise his captor and disarm him. Now, the table was turned, and it was the Druze who was ordered down the trail.

As they walked, however, the student of theology began to reflect on what was happening. Recalling the words of his scripture, “Love your enemies,” “do good to those who hate you,” “turn the other cheek,” he found he could go no farther. He threw the gun into the bushes, told the Druze he was free to go and turned back up the hill.

Minutes later, he heard footsteps running behind him as he walked. “Is this the end after all?” he wondered. Perhaps the young man had retrieved his weapon and meant to finish him off. But he continued on, never glancing back, until his enemy reached him, only to grab him in an embrace and pour out thanks for sparing his life.

That was a very human thing he did – foregoing the impulse to strike back. It took a strong spirit. Yet every time we decide not to get back at somebody who hurts us, we exercise one of our greatest powers – the power to choose a better way.

Somebody else put it better than I can: “Life is too short for drama and petty things, so, kiss slowly, laugh insanely, love truly and forgive quickly.” It’s one of the most powerful and human things to do.

– Steve Goodier

Then, from me. Isn’t that last part really the key to human survival? The ONLY way we overcome our baser instincts and, as a species, become a true civilization? Simply by exercising our power to choose a better, more loving, way? May we ALL find that become a necessity in our lives and soon. :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

In the Living Years

Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

I know that I’m a prisoner
To all my Father held so dear
I know that I’m a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got

You say you just don’t see it
He says it’s perfect sense
You just can’t get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defence

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It’s the bitterness that lasts

So Don’t yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in
You may just be O.K.

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

I wasn’t there that morning
When my Father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I’m sure I heard his echo
In my baby’s new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

If today brings even one choice your way

choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene