With a Winged Heart . . .

To melt and be like a running brook

that sings its melody to the night . . .
to know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to breathe willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks

for another day of loving;
to rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
to return home at even tide with gratitude;
and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise on your lips.

~Kahlil Gibran,

From The Profit

Prayer & Gratitude ~ Bali, Indonesia

I followed my law school sweetheart to Florida after graduation. By that time we had been dating for almost three years—studying together, competing for scholarships and grades, playing and having lots of fun. But the competition didn’t end when we received our diplomas; in fact, it escalated. What started as healthy competition, energizing our minds and supercharging our work, became a source of tension, conflict and hurt feelings when translated into jobs and compensation. And the gap between us just kept getting wider.

Within six months of moving to Florida, our relationship ended. Unfortunate, really, because he was the only friend I had in the area, new colleagues notwithstanding.

In the days, weeks and months that passed I grew more and more anxious about my decision to call it quits. Granted, I was working like a dog and flourishing in my career. At night I fell into bed, exhausted but generally satisfied with the direction of my life.

But weekends were another story. No meetings to attend. No busy phones ringing off the hook. No place that I had to be and not many friends to play with outside of work. That’s when I missed him most. That’s when I questioned my decision. And that’s when I would get lost in thoughts about why it had all happened this way. Why was I in this small coastal town, a thousand miles away from my family? Why had I been so inclined to follow him to Florida and, yet, here we were not even speaking? Was there something more for me here?

Years passed and, still, I got up every morning with a spring in my step excited for what the day would bring. When I could, I took the scenic route to work, driving along the Gulf Coast of Mexico, enlivened by its emerald green waters and sugar-white sand beaches. I threw myself into my work, loving every new project and idea, absorbing it all like a sponge. I opened myself to experience whatever came my way.

In my fifth year as a lawyer, I began to see a greater purpose for my being in Florida. Simultaneously, I was told of an upcoming offer of partnership with my law firm—“We’re all waiting for you,” the partners said—and I was offered a full time position as general counsel with one of my clients. On the one hand, I had the opportunity to be the first female partner in a firm of men. On the other, as general counsel for this young entrepreneur, I would be able to set my own hours, work from home, and enjoy a good measure of travel and freedom that I wouldn’t have in a law firm setting. As tough a decision as it was, I followed my heart and accepted the position as general counsel—a risk that came with opportunity that would later prove to be a bridge between two worlds.

Ceremony for Healing & Protection ~ Bali Indonesia

“Bless the bridge,” they say, and indeed I do.

When I reflect on the path that led me to where I am today, it’s easy to see the threads connecting one thing to another. I can look back with gratitude at the relationship I lost yet see everything I gained in the process.

I got to work with an amazing group of lawyers who really mentored me, teaching me how to be a good lawyer and business woman.

I lived on the magical Gulf Coast of Mexico--I always said that I wanted to live at the beach.

I met new friends, some of whom I count among my best friends today, and together we had lots of crazy-fun adventures.

I began my true spiritual studies after experiencing the darkest night of my lonely soul, which changed my perspective and set the course for everything I’m now doing in my life.

I explored geographically, connecting with my passion for travel and different cultures, which led me to San Francisco where I met some wonderful people who challenged me with new perspectives, inspiring me to get-out-of-the-box.

And I gained the wisdom and courage needed to make the greatest career leap of all—into my new life as a writer, photographer and entrepreneur. This is the essence of gratitude, giving thanks for all that is even when Life doesn't happen as you envisioned it. Trust me, I know it’s easier said than done.

The Gratitude Paradox:

“Giving thanks for all that is, as it is” is both truth and crap.

Because if you can’t see your way to anything positive
about your situation—

when you’re in the throes of tragedy and loss—

this statement is as good as an instruction to a deaf person

that she should listen to the music.

I'm not suggesting that we demonstrate appreciation for the painful or tragic things that hurt us--for having been the victim of a violent crime; for having lost our loved ones; for having been locked up for a crime we didn’t commit; or for having lost our entire life savings in a devastating financial disaster. When we’re in the middle of such things, I dare say gratitude comes easy. But one day, when we’re out of the fog and life moves on, I encourage the kind of gratitude that allows us to bless our journey and the strength and wisdom that we’ve gained from having endured such hardships. After all, we are who we are today because of what we made of yesterday.

In time, perhaps, we learn that we need not wait until the puzzle is finished to acknowledge its purposefulness and give thanks. For at its best, gratitude is a continual state of grace. It is to acknowledge with the whole heart the interconnectedness of all things—even while we’re going through it, even when we don't fully understand why—without crumbling in our feelings of separateness, aloneness or thoughts of having somehow been forgotten by the world. Gratitude is a thought form, a way of being; a choice.

Remember, every lover, friend, and experience is a precious gift, and every lesson learned brings wisdom to the heart of the recipient. Through it, we derive a greater sense of Self that we carry with us for the rest of our lives. Honor this wisdom as a blessing and give thanks so that it may serve you well.

Happy Thanksgiving friends!

__________________________

By Melissa Johnson

Awakening to Peace

Until the philosophy that holds one race superior

and another inferior,
is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned,
Everywhere is war…
Until the color of a man’s skin is of no more significance
than the color of his eyes—
Me say war…
That until that day the dream of lasting peace,
World citizenship…rule of international morality
Will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued,

but never attained—
Now everywhere is war…
~Bob Marley, War

United by One. (c) 2009.

When the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to President Obama, I was stunned by the uproar that ensued. People came out of the woodwork—Right and Left—criticizing the committee’s decision to give the award to a man “who has done nothing to deserve” the prestigious honor of Nobel laureate. Into the media fire went outrageous justifications and commentary. Some argued the Prize was already “damaged goods” because of its prior award to the likes of Yasser Arafat and Mikhail Gorbachev. Others rallied behind the many unsung heroes passed over for the Prize and suggested that President Obama decline the award. While others pulled the race card, alleging affirmative action as the basis for his recognition.

I think some people just like to complain. To these critics I say, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR WORLD PEACE?

From its inception, the Nobel Prize was intended to honor those who have “done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.” True, there are many organizations and people out there fighting the good fight, striving for peace and social justice around the world--all deserving of recognition. But in this five-person committee’s unanimous opinion, President Obama’s diplomacy and willingness to engage crucial conversations between warring nations is a promise of peace and progress for us all.

For the first time in a long time people around the world are inspired by what America’s new leadership represents. In this, we’ve pinned our hopes, fears and expectations on one man. What an enormous burden to carry—one that demands attention every day. Yet rather than sitting on the sidelines, waiting for someone else to bring peace to our world, I suggest we do our part by looking within, for that is where true peace begins.

Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu once said, “If there is to be peace in the world, there must be peace in the nations… in the cities…between neighbors...in the home...and in the heart.” Even 25 centuries ago he recognized a level of personal responsibility that we all share in bringing about a peaceful world—one that requires individuals to tend the gardens of their hearts and minds. I believe Lao-tzu is right, for how can we expect to bring about universal peace and understanding in a world filled with so many different people, places, religions, philosophies and ideas about what’s right and wrong, when we can’t even get beyond our own personal biases and judgments towards each other, not to mention the harsh judgments we unleash at ourselves.

I’ve often wondered why it’s so hard to soften our hearts towards those different from us, or with whom we’ve experienced conflict. Universally, I think it boils down to the vulnerability it demands and the ego’s fearful need to be right. Yet as I watch the events of the world unfold – war, economic failings, environmental disasters, and horrific crimes against humanity that should have long been abolished – I can’t help but feel that we’ve got it all wrong.

I read this story once about a lady who called herself “Peace Pilgrim.” In 1952 she became the first woman to walk the entire length of the Appalachian Trail in one season. Shortly after that she began her walk for peace – vowing to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace…” For almost three decades she walked back and forth across the United States, with no money and only the clothes on her back, walking more than 25,000 miles before her death. She was fascinated that her needs were always met. “Aren’t people good…,” she would say.

She spoke to anyone who would listen about the big peace picture: Peace among nations, peace among groups, and the all important inner peace because she, like Lao-tzu, believed that was where world peace began. In the course of her pilgrimage she touched the lives of thousands of people with her message, and many of them inspired her as well.

I love the story she tells of a small, remote village she visited where she found a group of people with a unique way of dealing with conflict. When a person in the village violated the natural laws or had intense conflict with another, the villagers would gather in the town center, forming a circle around the offender, and one by one they would recount every good deed, kindness and contribution to the community made by that person. There was no punishment, finger pointing or harsh judgment, only kindness. And as a result, their community thrived without the need for jails or local police. Generally, they had very little conflict among them.

Doesn’t that sound nice—a peaceful world that works for everyone? We’ve got a long way to go, for sure; but what a beautiful state to aspire to. And it starts with you and me. Sure, there are those that can’t see the big picture, stuck in their evil, power, greed and oppression. We must not let their bad behavior serve as justification for our own. We must not look away because change feels difficult or hopeless. Those who can see the world with broader vision must. 

We owe it to ourselves to look up and out into the world and ask the important questions: How may I serve? Am I keeping my side of the street clean? What can I do to help rather than hinder progress and peace? For I believe that when we pull ourselves out of the quicksand of mindless living, petty judgment and self-righteousness—instead, focusing on what is good and just and doing all we can to promote compassion and peace—we, too, will inspire a better and brighter future not just for ourselves and our families but for all of humanity . . . the only “race” that matters.

And you, Mr. President--I urge you to honor your commitment to world peace and human understanding even in the bloodiest of regions; even in the face of adversity and criticism. For the road to peace will not be found through war.

_________________________________________

By Melissa Johnson

Live and Love With The Heart of A Lion

Defining myself,

as opposed to being defined by others,

is one of the most difficult challenges I face.

~Carol Moseley-Braun

I Am King © 2009 MJohnson.

I once bought some cheese at the market – a real stinky camembert that smelled dramatically similar to my running shoes – wrapped in white parchment paper with Coeur de Lion scrawled on its face in a delicate French hand. The smellier the cheese the better the quality, gourmets would say, but I was enticed by the label; drawn to the essence of the heart of the lion.

After leaving the market, I carried that label in my purse for a while as a gentle reminder of my own strength, contemplating from time-to-time what it means to live with the heart of a lion. Sure, the lion gives us images of power, courage, loyalty and strength; the energy of the Sun (think of the astrological sign of Leo, ruled by the Sun). Yet to watch these animals in action has given me greater insight into the truth of their leonine energy; great lessons in what it means to live with integrity.

Consider the mountain lion, for instance. Not long after moving to Colorado, I saw one of these magnificent creatures from my living room window, crouched low with his front paws on a rock, watching a rabbit from a distance; waiting patiently for the right opportunity to strike. The rabbit was making a feast of the wildflowers, minding her own business; but I saw the defining moment, when she knew that she was being watched. She stopped in place, still as a rock, and for a minute I lost her in the tall grass.

Hidden © 2009 MJohnson.

Then suddenly, as if on queue, the rabbit took off—hopping and running as fast as any rabbit I’ve ever seen—with the mountain lion not far behind. The rabbit sort of zig-zagged through the yard, heading toward the creek, as the mountain lion leapt over rock outcroppings, doing his best to keep the rabbit in focus. But when she dropped out of sight, hidden by the forest vegetation, the mountain lion pulled back, standing quiet and still by the embankment, looking and listening for signs of his dinner. Within moments the mountain lion turned, defeated, retreating to his rocky ledge somewhere out there. I kind of felt sorry for the guy, but he was big and strong, and I knew that he would find other food. As for the rabbit, well, I was glad she would live another day.

Though it happened in a flash, the scene stuck with me. I thought about the quiet strength of the mountain lion—the way he carries no doubt, no anxiety, no fear or remorse. There is simply what the mountain lion wants and desires and the focused strength to carry it out. He doesn’t linger in doubt and disharmony; he doesn’t stick around and wait for more of whatever isn’t working for him. Either he overpowers the rabbit or he leaves. It’s that simple. And in the flash of an eye he’s gone.

African Female Lion © 2009 MJohnson.

The African lion lives with a similar approach. I’ve been fascinated by these cats for years and, recently, I had the opportunity to observe some of them at the Wild Animal Sanctuary, just outside of Denver. Their size alone gives them the appearance of royalty, intimidating in their 10 to 13 foot length (tail included), the males posing with their thick, impressive manes; some of them weighing more than 500 pounds. And as I watched them I understood that they never fail to do what is in their nature to do.

Lavish Lounging © 2009 MJohnson.

When hunting in the wild, for instance, they bend to the inherent skills of the pride. Recognizing that females are the best hunters, they honor this feminine energy. In fact, females do most of the work, leading the hunt by lying in wait for their unsuspecting prey, led to them by the male’s powerful roar. As a community, they ban together to overtake their prey. They do not negotiate with terrorists.

© 2009 MJohnson.

As the second largest member of the cat family, these carnivores can go long distances, sometimes walking 20km a day, rising up to meet their challenges as predator cats; always in harmony with the truth of being a lion. They don’t question themselves or blame each other. They don’t go back to their den and beat each other up for not catching the zebra, gazelle or other tasty treat; doubting their prowess. And they don’t sit around feeling sorry for themselves because they’re hungry, expecting someone outside of their pride to deliver their food (unless in captivity, of course). They simply move on to the next potentially lucrative food source.

Frolicking © 2009 MJohnson.

Yet their natural state is love and, unless cornered, they tend to move away from conflict and danger. Playfully, they lounge around in the sun, R-O-A-R-I-N-G their greetings to each other, exuding intense passion, loyalty and, yes, sexuality through their very distinct male and female energies. To me, these lions are symbolic of humanity and great civilizations throughout time—the kings and queens and those who followed them.

Think about it: There’s not another being on this planet that could cause the lion to question himself. When he comes up against an obstacle, instinctively and without question, he knows what has to be done and he does it. She doesn’t sit on the fence of life, debating her next move ad nauseam; doubting her instinct or her right to “be.” He doesn’t allow himself to be threatened or victimized either. They are what they are meant to be, without question and with complete validity as lions. We could learn a few things from our cat friends.

As for me, I want to live and love with the heart of a lion—passionate; confident; loyal; protective of those I love and of those who can’t defend themselves; always giving to my community; independent, yet part of the pride; validating myself rather than waiting for others to give me permission to be who I am; exuberant like the Sun.

And you—how are you defined?

_________________________________________

Photographs of African lions shot on location at the Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keensburg, Colorado, a 501(c)(3) non-profit exotic animal rescue and conservation center. To learn more, visit their website at http://www.wildanimalsanctuary.org/.

The Face of Love

No one will put me in a cage, if so,
 I never will sing again...

Love without Freedom, isn’t love...

~Jose Araujo, Brazilian Writer

He grew quiet when I told him I was leaving the city. “Peaks and valleys inspire me,” I explained, contemplating life at 9,000 feet.

“I need to B-R-E-A-T-H-E . . .”

It would be a big change, for sure—mountain living—solitary; snowy; cold; with hardships I had yet to consider. I would leave behind a city that engaged me; people I loved. But in my soul lay waiting the masterpiece of my life, wanting expression. It was time for me to fly.

He helped me pack my things and move cross-country. And though he wanted me to stay, he never questioned my decision to leave; he didn’t push his own agenda. Instead, he looked for ways to help, filling the time with laughter and light while celebrating my choice; delighting in my new adventure all the way to the top.

And, here, on this mountain, with nature as my muse, I found my breathing space . . . where dreams fuel my creativity . . . and ideas manifest in a stream of consciousness . . . stretching my creative muscles beyond the imaginable. For it has been said that “it is only alone, truly alone that one bursts apart, springs forth.”

Here, I’ve learned grace under pressure as I tend the garden of my mind. I’ve learned that passion—great passion—gives us the strength to endure as we move forward on our path. And that just one moment can change everything—for good or ill. So I nourish myself with great people, places, things and ideas; I safeguard the energy of my life. And when my heart whispers its greatest desires, I’ve learned to listen . . . and watch . . . as the universe conspires to guide me. Even when I can’t see the road ahead, I dig deep to find the courage to face the truth; knowing that when I believe in myself, anything is possible.

He calls me every now and then, laughing through the phone. If I don’t answer, he worries that I’ve been eaten by a bear. “Sweetie-darling,” he teases in his charming, genteel way, “You are a woman and a half, living on that mountain with the lions and the bears.” Those moments of connection inspire me, when our spirits come together and move apart, in and out, again and again in continuous movement, like breath itself.

And though our lives are very different now—he, me, we—I’ve learned that when held loosely, love never dies; it simply changes form. “Every beginning, after all, is nothing but a sequel, and the book of events is always open in the middle” (~W. Szymborska)

I’ve only just begun to understand what I’m made of, but this much I know is true: Freedom is the face of love.

By Melissa Johnson

Seeds of Doubt

“Men are not prisoners of fate,

but only prisoners of their own mind.”

~Franklin D. Roosevelt

Proud Hummer © 2008 M. Johnson

Rumor has it I have the best sugar water in the Canyon. A little birdie told me so. That must be why Bad, Bad Red-Rufous Brown hoards that sweet stuff by chasing off—or dive bombing—other hummers as they refuel at the feeders. He’s a real bully.

I’ve already talked to him twice about his boorish behavior. The first time, I stood on the front porch, next to his favorite tree, and said, “Listen here, friend: I provide you with that delicious sugar water, and there’s plenty to go around. You don’t have to fight so hard for what you want. Have a little faith, dude. But if you keep this up, I promise you’re going to end up all alone without a friend in the world . . . What then?”

Lady Hummer © 2009 M. Johnson

Still, he continued to alienate himself—meaner than a junkyard dog—as he greedily guarded the feeders. Meanwhile, the other hummers organized themselves into factions and came back fighting, retaliating with games of intrigue and clever diversionary tactics, like chasing Mr. Rufous this way and that, steering him away from the feeders in small groups, while the other hummers drank in hurried shifts; trading off, two-by-two, until everyone had their fill.

Mr. Red-Rufous Brown © 2009 M. Johnson

But the next day he was back, more determined than ever, and he single-handedly chased the others away. That’s when I saw him, sitting all alone on the branch of an Aspen tree, rain pouring down on his little bird head; not a friend in sight. He looked so sad and pathetic; I couldn’t help but feel compassion for his greedy plight. I didn’t have to say a word. I just looked at him with a weary I-told-you-so sort of look that he seemed to understand.

I know, I know. Anthropomorphism is a funny thing—the way we project our human motivations onto our animal and winged friends. But I can’t help myself when I watch them in action. I’m fascinated by the patterns displayed in all of life.

After all, we aren’t so different from Mr. Rufous, are we? Consider the way that we, at times, grasp and hoard and jealously guard what’s “ours;” clinging to our treasures; afraid to share for fear that if we give it away (whatever “it” is—money, possessions, ideas) we might find ourselves without.

I’ve done it from time-to-time—operating from this fearful place—worried that I won’t get my fair share; doubting my ability to connect with my heart’s desires. At times, I’ve found myself holding back or, worse yet, questioning my voice: What could I possibly have to say that others want to hear? It doesn’t happen often but, when it does, I’m amazed at how quickly fear grows in a vulnerable heart.

Take my path as a writer, for instance. Having achieved a measure of success as a lawyer, I find myself floundering in foreign territory when it comes to writing and publishing and all that it entails. I log onto my Twitter account to discover a whole world of people sharing similar messages—many aspiring or published writers—all wanting to be heard and recognized for their uniqueness; some with elaborate websites and platforms and thousands of dedicated followers. I feel sick as I compare myself to them all, wondering if there’s room for me. Or I walk into a bookstore and find myself anxious among the hundreds of thousands of books stacked on tables and spilling from over-stuffed bookshelves, all vying for the readers’ attention, and I am overwhelmed by the realization that I couldn’t possibly read them all, much less compete with them. Or could I?  I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

On such occasions, if I’m not careful, I can get myself so twisted up in doubt that I disconnect from that creative spark that led me to write in the first place. That’s when the fear kicks in and, suddenly, I feel the need to mark my territory; to defend my metaphorical sugar water, like Mr. Rufous Brown.

And it was on such an occasion that my friend told me the story of the Seed Planter, an old Moroccan tale passed down from his grandmother many years ago and translated here in my own words.

“Beware of the Seed Planter,” she said. “He will come to you when you’re worried or scared and whisper terrible things in your ear. He’ll tell you that you are not enough; that you’re not good enough; that you’ll never have—or be—enough. Do not listen to him! He will make you doubt everything you know in your heart to be true. Then you will need more, want more; you will never be happy with who you are and the gifts of your Creator. Like seeds planted deep in your soul, this kind of fear grows wild, poisoning your thoughts and stealing your happiness.”

No doubt, the Seed Planter had been whispering in my ear, and I knew he would come again. It’s the way of the human—we get stuck in our heads, dwelling in thoughts of lack and limitation. I don’t like how that feels. I want to thrive!

When I reflect on my life, I see that faith, hope and courage have long been arrows in my quiver, protecting me from doubt even when I couldn’t see the road ahead. Learning to be gentle with myself—an ongoing discipline—has helped me to look upon humanity with compassion, where I connect with the common thread—that all of us, in our deepest parts, just want to be loved and understood. This understanding allows our self-respect and faith in the process of life to deepen and grow; secret weapons in our battle with doubt.  Remember, our greatest, most heart-felt desires are there by design, and, like stars in the night sky, are there to guide us. We must never give up.

Take a look around. All of nature is abundant—the earth, flowers, trees, animals, the sun, moon and stars— always creating, ever-expanding, and life-enhancing. We are not forgotten.

What kind of seeds are you planting?

By Melissa Johnson