HEART LAW

FALLING IN LOVE ROCKS!

2012-02-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth

so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and

caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots

and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,

that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All of these things shall love do unto you

that you may know the secrets of your heart,

and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

"Falling in Love Rocks!"
Roadside, Boulder Canyon.
(c) 2012 Melissa Johnson.

Last year while visiting my family in Virginia, my sweetheart and I had an opportunity to spend the afternoon in my grandfather’s basement. A mixture of Salvation Army this-and-thats, tools, books and World War II memorabilia, you didn’t have to know him to see his reflection in that downstairs room. We spent hours rummaging through his things, speculating about what drew him to one item or another, as we shared tales of a life well lived.

Then we found it, there in a drawer; his military issue handgun. Not surprising given Grandpa’s affinity for antique military weaponry, but there just under the clear coat handle was a gorgeous, flirty photo of my Grandmother on one side, and a picture of the two of them lip-locked on the other. I couldn’t take my eyes off the thing, transfixed by the paradox: Images of a life-enhancing love permanently affixed to a weapon of death and destruction. Why?

“Don’t you see?” Kevin said, holding the gun in the palm of his hand. “It’s a statement about his love.” I still didn’t get it. “Think about it…what did he live for? What would he die for? What would he defend?”

I never really understood that kind of love until that moment. I had dreamt about it, longed for it, read every relationship self-help book on the market, and tried to convince myself that I'd found it, with no lasting impact. But there in the basement, sharing that quiet moment, I got it. I knew that I would walk the line for him and I had no doubt he would do the same for me. He already had.

Our path has not been easy, especially in the beginning as we faced challenges that rocked us to the core, but our love has grown through the cracks of early disappointment. Instead of running away we held fast to each other, strengthened by our shared experience of that which we couldn’t explain. These became our strongest building blocks; the foundation of our life together.

We're planning a New Year's Eve wedding this year, a black tie affair with family and friends. I couldn't be more thrilled! And as I reflect on how we got here from there, I am reminded that even when suffering our greatest struggles, being together has been mostly easy. Like falling rocks, we hit the ground and break apart sometimes but our pieces grow stronger as we become more of who we are.

CAUTION: Falling in love rocks!

BEAUTIFUL!

2012-01-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

When I admire the wonders of a sunset

or the beauty of the moon,

my soul expands in the worship of the creator.

~ M. Gandhi

“Well, isn’t that beautiful!” She exclaims with delight in her breathy, southern drawl. “That’s about the prettiest thing I think I’ve evah seen!” “She” being my grandmother, Catherine Mitchell Mason, and the “beautiful”? Well, that could be just about anything—from a strand of pearls to a handwritten note to a honey glazed ham on the table for Christmas dinner. To her, they’re all beautiful and something to be cherished.

Yet this is not the world view of one who knows little of hardship and struggle. She grew up picking peas with her sisters in the pea patch, a hot, bothersome task for any child. And when her mother passed away, at 13 my Grandmother took on chores typically reserved for the lady of the house. She lived through World War II then married my grandfather when he returned from Germany. They had their children and built a strong life together. Then later, she watched with horror as her beloved burned in a car explosion right before her eyes, an accident requiring multiple skin grafts and a very long recovery, but she lived it with him and helped nurse him back to health.

When she discovered she was pregnant in her early 50s, having been warned by her doctor that having the baby would cost her life, she bravely stood with my Grandfather before a panel of male physicians to present her case for terminating the pregnancy, a courageous act indeed since abortion was illegal back then and her religious beliefs kept her at odds with the whole idea. She’s had multiple open heart surgeries, necessitated by valve damage from an early case of Rheumatic Fever, and she’s overcome the debilitating effects of the strokes she suffered during those procedures, learning to read, write and speak all over again—not once but twice! She dedicated many years of her life as a hospice volunteer, sitting bedside and caring for those terminally ill patients struggling to find comfort in their final days. Yes ma’am, my Grandmother knows a little something about the dark side of life, yet she’s never wavered in expressing its beauty.

She’s always been that way, no matter what anyone ever did or said to her, through good and bad, better and worse, she finds a way to give thanks and praise for the beauty that surrounds her. Even today as she winds down her life, Grandma still finds beauty in the simple things. When I call her to say hello and maybe ask her what she had for lunch that day, she never fails to say, “Oh, you should have seen the slice of cake [ham, roast beef, tater tots] they served at lunch. It was the prettiest thing I’ve evah seen!”

We could all learn a little something from Grandma.

You're So Critical!

2011-11-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

Any problem, big or small...

always seems to start with bad communication.

Someone isn't listening.

~Emma Thompson

Sohbet (c) MJohnson 2011.

“You’re so critical!” he said to her, driving home from dinner that night. It was a moment—just words—that could have derailed their evening together had she assumed the worst. But she wanted to understand him; she always wanted to understand, so she asked, “What do you mean?” Then she listened.

Turns out, he meant that she was critical to him, to their relationship, to their peaceful life together. A very different “critical” than she had at first imagined.

An example so simple but so profound, with the power to shift our understanding of the way we communicate and perceive each other. Yet how often do we nearly kill ourselves jumping to conclusions?

I’ve seen it in friendships and partnerships; in the boardroom, the bedroom and in the courtroom. I’ve done it—selectively listened and assumed the worst—and I’ve watched with horrified amazement as others have done it too. I’ve witnessed folks come together for the right reasons and with the best intentions only to walk away from their common cause because what they heard and focused on was how far apart they were instead of how very closely aligned their interests had become.

There have been missed opportunities, hurt feelings, lawsuits, and, yes, even wars over the way we communicate and respond to crisis. We’ve ruined perfectly good times with loved ones because we’re so busy making assumptions about what they did or said or meant rather than assuming the best of their intentions and bridging the gap between our hearts. Misunderstandings have escalated into full-blown battles because we’re caught and entangled in our comforting but destructive habit of choosing to be offended.

But we’ve also created thriving businesses, communities, relationships and families through our conscious communications. We’ve expressed love, hurt, excitement and joy, and we’ve shared our plans and desires as others have heard us and responded in kind. What a relief to be heard and understood!

Sufi mystics describe this connection as “sohbet.” Though a bit difficult to translate in English, this word—pronounced “so-bet”—speaks of a different kind of conversation. It involves deep listening between the heart and spirit. It refers to a way of communication that is more than just words; it is, in essence, the transmission of one’s heart to another in conversation. But it’s even more than that, for true sohbet encompasses the many silent conversations taking place each moment between every living thing in the cosmos, and it is believed that those with ears attuned to the inner heart can hear these subtle exchanges.

True sohbets can be so powerful that those involved can bring about incredibly deep understanding in a very short period of time, much quicker than prayer and meditation alone. So significant is this to our highest way of being in the world that most every spiritual tradition describes a version of this “great listening”—Christians, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and many Native Traditions—where we are encouraged to listen deeply and respond with the whole heart. And though many speak of listening to Spirit as the highest directive, this wisdom translates well into our relationships. Imagine what we could accomplish if we brought this practice to our business and personal affairs!

But to reach the level of sohbet, we have to put away our cell phones and laptops, video games and DVDs, turn off the television and tune into each other—eye to eye—and really connect with the truth of the heart and all that it reveals. That’s where the magic happens.

So as we move into this magical holiday season, giving thanks for all that is, why not give the gift of sohbet. Be that person who seeks to understand before demanding to be understood, and there in that space discover the truth of just how critical you are.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

2011-10-19T12:38:00.000-06:00

No tree has branches so foolish

as to fight amongst themselves.

~Ojibwa Saying

When teaching pre-law students the finer points of logical reasoning, there is a type of argument I like to call “Resolve & Explain.” In it we are presented with a set of facts that appear to be self-contradictory yet in reality they express a possible truth, and we’re asked to resolve and explain this discrepancy. The correct answer choice will always be that piece of information that explains how both sides of the contradiction can be true at the same time. Oh the paradox!

Can you imagine it—the ability to hold opposing thoughts in your mind at once and allow them both to be true? Without feeling threatened by what the other “truth” may mean to your own? It’s a fascinating way of viewing the world and no easy task; especially when you consider how we cling to our positions.

Nowhere is this more pronounced than in our world’s religions. Take for instance the recent showdown in the media between Mitt Romney and his rival, Texas Governor Rick Perry, following senior Baptist minister and Perry supporter Dr. Robert Jeffress’ commentary that Romney wasn’t a true Christian and that Mormonism is a cult. Oooh, wee! Can’t you just hear the Bible-thumping going on down there deep in the heart of Texas! And the presidential race is just getting started…

Consider my Christian friends who feel it their duty to “convert” others to Christianity; or my Muslim friend who believes that Jesus, a high profit, was born to the Virgin Mary but considers it a “blaspheme” to say that Jesus was the “Son of God” because God is Spirit and Spirit can’t have sexual relations. What tiny little hairs are we splitting here, and what does that really have to do with the core tenements of leading a spiritual life: faith, hope, love and kindness?

Or consider my father’s deeply held conviction that all those who don’t believe in the Trinity—father, son, Holy Spirit—will, in fact, burn in hell. What about those who simply choose the path of peace and kindness and live out that example every day? What of my Bible-quoting, God-fearing colleague who claims astrology to be “the Devil’s work” anytime anyone makes mention of a horoscope or “guidance” from the stars, yet, wait a minute… weren’t the Three Wise Men guided by the stars to Bethlehem on the night of Jesus’ birth?

Even within certain groups there are smaller and smaller divisions based on opportunity and belief. Bucket-loads of money are spent every year securing our relative “stakes” in the community and the world at large, convincing others to join us in our way of thinking. Like the recent string of commercials showing the everyday lives of people who call themselves Mormon, illustrating that they are, in fact, quite normal folks just like you and me lest you buy into Dr. Jeffress’ attempts to color them cult-like.

Take a look around; examples abound. If we are to have any chance of creating a world that works for everyone, we must ask ourselves: What is that piece of information that will allow both sides of the contradiction to be true? That Mormons and Baptists are basically good? That Muslims and Christians are right? That two folks who believe different things—one in the Trinity, the other simply in kindness and compassion—will both arrive at the same place in the end?

I ask and I ask and I ask, and I keep coming back to this answer: There is only One source from which all of life flows. We, us, them—we are but different expressions of the One, energetically speaking; molecules in motion dancing endlessly through time. We can split hairs with semantics; divide ourselves in to smaller and smaller pieces of One pie; make “them” wrong so we can be “right” and duke it out in very public and heated debates that will never bring anymore clarity than this.

We came from One and, in the end, to One we shall return.

We Are Born Winning

2011-09-17T16:59:00.001-06:00

The greatest defense is being who you are.

~Mark Nepo

YOU ARE A WINNER! Yes, you! There. I said it. Cliche perhaps, but true. Think about it...

The whole process of coming to Life is like a championship sporting event. The female ovaries release an egg. Hundreds of sperm race to meet it, but only a lucky few actually make it to the Fallopian gate to compete for a chance at fertilization. My brother-in-law calls it "getting one past the goalie!" I call it a miracle.

No matter the argument for when life begins, there is this moment when the lone sperm penetrates the mature egg and all kinds of stuff starts happening. Cells change, divide and Life begins to express itself in unique and incredible ways.

It's mind-blowing, really, everything that has to happen and everything that could possibly go wrong in the process. If the ovaries fail to produce an egg, or if it is brittle and defective, nothing happens. If there's no sperm around to fertilize that egg at just the right moment, nothing happens. If more than one sperm penetrates the egg at the same time, again, what we have is a failure to fertilize.

Then there's everything that can go wrong during a pregnancy and complications at birth, not to mention the million-and-one things that can derail our journey once we're here--accidents, disease, careless mistakes--it's a wonder any of us make it to adulthood; especially when you consider the crazy, compromising situations we can get ourselves into because we're human and sometimes make really bad decisions even with the best of intentions.

Then one day we're walking around--all arms and legs, opinions and attitudes--drowning in feelings of low self-esteem because everything seems to be going so horribly wrong. Yet that's precisely when we need to remember the simple fact that we're here.

You, in human form, having this fabulously strange, wonderful and, at times, heartbreaking experience. And that, my friend, makes YOU a winner!

Coming to Terms

2011-08-14T20:21:00.000-06:00

For the flower it is fully open ateach step of its blossoming.

~ Mark Nepo

I have a lot offreckles—I mean everywhere. I have noidea where they all came from because they weren't there when I was born. But there they are.

For most of mylife I hated my freckles. I dressed toconceal—a victim in my own skin—while all around me beautiful people withsmooth, freckle-free skin, embraced the world in cute little dresses and sleevelesstops, showing as much skin as the law would allow. I was too self-conscious to join them.

Then one night atdinner, my friend Jonathan spotted a patch of freckles peeking from beneath myshirt sleeve. “Le poins des carrot,” he mumbled to himself, running his fingerover my freckled skin. My French wasrusty, but I could have sworn that he said, “The skin of the carrot?” And he had.

“When you see theorange skin of a healthy carrot, it is a beautiful thing—the color, thetexture, its richness and vibrancy; the skin of the carrot is beautyitself. It’s like that withfreckles. The French view them as a signof great beauty. And some culturesbelieve they’re a sign of great wealth. Just think how lucky you are—beauty and wealth!” He laughed, “This is your destiny!”

And to think thatall this time I had been trying to cover them up! Yet with a simple shift in perspective all ofa sudden I had the world on a string—beauty and wealth. I laughed so hard I cried.

My freckles lookeddifferent after that. I studied them andpatterns emerged like brilliant constellations in the night sky. I had been an astronomy buff for years,could it be that my freckles weren’t so random after all? “As above, so below,” they say. And I laughed at the sense of humor displayedin all of creation.

There are otherthings I’ve struggled to reconcile. Likehow hard I’ve had to work to find even the slightest measure of acceptance inmy heart for an extremely difficult family situation; or my growingdisillusionment with a long-held belief as I’ve watched its opposite unfold inthe world around me; or perhaps, worse yet, the horrified amazement with whichI have, at times, viewed my own life in hindsight as I see so clearly how I’vegotten in my own way. These are,perhaps, among the hardest parts to make peace with, especially when weconsider how very different the outcome may have been if only we had done thisor that.

We do ourselves agreat disservice when we judge ourselves so harshly. For aren’t we always where we need tobe? Perhaps that’s why they say that struggleis sometimes necessary but always optional.

In the end,reconciliation is an inside job. Withoutit, our contempt of a thing creates obstacles to our own happiness. So we best make peace; learn how to sootheourselves and move beyond the suffering in our lives. Because when we are reconciled with thattruth, all self-love and acceptance, there is freedom at last.

Eat Your Peas: Simple Truths & Happy Insights

2011-05-03T17:58:00.002-06:00

“Like the loving stitches of a quilt

you connect us to what matters. Each other.

Our stories. The heart of who we are.”

~ Cheryl Karpen

Years ago, my mother gave me a serving of peas. Not the edible kind, but the inspirational kind printed on business-card-sized stock, with a stylish desk-top card display to serve-up these peas of wisdom.

You are

Amazing,

Competent,

Strong

and

Beautiful,

it reminds me every time I sit down at my desk.

And now there’s a serving of peas for Mom too! Eat Your Peas for Mom is the newest in a series of books filled with simple truths and happy insights to nourish mind, heart and spirit. In this 3-minute read, author Cheryl Karpen captures the unconditional essence of a mother’s love and offers a gift of gratitude from you to her in return. It's the perfect little gift book for Mother's Day and a forever reminder of your love.

To learn more about Eat Your Peas for Mom and other titles, visit http://www.eatyourpeas.com/website/shoponline.htm.

Don't forget to eat your peas!

Always Pearls...

2011-04-07T14:59:00.002-06:00

I’m a grain of sand becoming a pearl…

~Paula Cole

I remember it clearly, standing with my grandmother in her bedroom, looking through her closet for just the right dress—she would be burying her beloved of 60 years the next day—and she needed accessories to match.

Later, as she sorted through her jewelry, fingering chains and broaches, she pulled an item from the wooden box with a delicate hand. “There are always pearls…” she said softly, almost childlike, as she slipped the strand around her neck and smiled in front of the mirror.

I’ve thought a lot about that moment in the three years since. So many things have changed the landscape of all that I once knew. Still, the wisdom of her choice lives on, for, indeed, no matter the circumstance, there are always pearls.

Consider the way of a pearl. It’s this hard object produced within the soft tissue of a living cell, borne from a set of circumstances where an intruder has slipped through a crack in the shell causing great irritation to the soft underbelly of the mollusk. Rather than dying from this irritant, the mollusk forms a sac of tissue and secretes a concoction of calcium and such to soften the rough spot. Yet through this process of repeated irritation and secretion, an incredible jewel emerges, valued all the more for its wild beauty.

We’re not so different, really, when we allow the small and buried irritants of life to open the cracks in our hearts wider still, transmuting our grief, sadness and doubt into great pearls of wisdom. This powerful process is but one of the many reminders of how we may transform what seems most dark and unknowable within us into a polished light of beauty and promise to the world—that all has a place and meaning in the greater scheme of things.

It’s not by chance that life so imitates nature, and in fully living we soon discover there are always pearls.

_______________________________

This article is dedicated to my Grandfather, Karl Mason (April 9, 1919 - July 17, 2008). Shine on.

Learning to Fly

2011-03-23T12:04:00.001-06:00

In a sky full of people only some want to fly…

Isn’t that crazy?

~Seal, Crazy

My friend Doug is a brilliant aerospace engineer. For a while now he’s been working on a project to design the wings for an unmanned helicopter. Last year, while on a white water rafting trip in the Pacific Northwest, our conversation turned to the science and art of flight as I asked him about the down-and-dirty process of wing design.

He explained that if the wings are too stiff, the plane will shake itself apart and break. On the other hand, if too flexible, the wings will oscillate so much that the aircraft won’t fly. “You have to create the right balance,” he said as he went on to explain some of the design issues unique to his project. And I laughed at his unintentional analogy.

For like these aeronautical creations, we, too, face the risk of breaking when we approach life with such rigidity that we can’t withstand a harsh shaking from the winds of change, and yet if we are too flexible in our thinking and doing we may never take flight, instead just spinning around in the unrealized possibilities of living.

And so we are called to balance mind-body-spirit, generally, in work and play; calibrating the expression of masculine and feminine energies within us; aligning the wisdom of head and heart when discerning our best path forward; and balancing the need for togetherness with autonomy within the context of our most important relationships. In many ways, every day, we are called to harmonize the issues of our Self.

In this we strengthen our wings and learn to fly.

Where does your life now call for more balance?

No Ordinary Art

2011-03-18T15:00:00.000-06:00

We do not see things as they are.

We perceive them as we are.

~The Talmud

There was an Italian farmer who lived in the Tuscan countryside. He had only his son to help him with the many chores attendant to farming. One day while out riding his horse, the son fell and broke his leg, leaving him bedridden and of no help to his father. “Oh no!” said the farmer, disappointed with his son’s carelessness. “This is bad! Who will help me milk the cows and tend the crops? This will surely bring ruin to our family.”

The next day, the general of the Italian military came by on horseback, looking for all able-bodied young men to take into battle. Because his leg was broken the General passed over the farmer’s son, leaving him to his bed rest. “Oh, yes!” said the farmer, “This is good . . . this is very good, indeed. Now my son will live.” And before long, the son’s leg had healed and he was back to work, helping tend the farm.

The parable of the Italian farmer is helpful in understanding that things are not always as they at first seem. Learning to remain open and fluid like water is no ordinary art. But if we can temporarily suspend our judgment about what's going on around us, especially when in the midst of things, we may find that we've lost nothing by considering another possibility, yet what we've gained is great indeed.

Sit quietly and contemplate a time in your life where once you were convinced that a certain event was to your detriment, only later to discover its blessing. Recall the moment that revealed the lesson.

What in your life now calls for a second look?

As you breathe, give thanks for your choice of perception.

Straight From the Heart

2011-02-10T16:39:00.000-07:00

The heart of the wise instructs his mouth

and adds persuasiveness to his lips.

(Proverbs 16:23)

Imagine that for one week your conversations with others were secretly recorded in high-definition video; then, later, you were led into a viewing room with surround sound where you were forced to bear witness to yourself. At the end of the day, how would you feel? Relaxed and understood? Impressed with your stellar communication skills? Troubled by the way you come across? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Misunderstood?

Your words are a very good indication

of what is going on in your heart.

~Dr. Emerson Eggerichs

An interesting point to ponder, I think, as we make our way through the day-to-day world of relationships where communication is everything. For there’s no doubt that the way we communicate opens a window to our soul for all to see, an idea reinforced in his book “Love and Respect for a Lifetime,” by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs.

The good news is that we're not stuck! Unlike our height or the color of our eyes, we can make conscious and gradual changes in the way that we relate to each other and up our happiness quotient in the process. Whether we find ourselves in constant conflict with others wondering why we’re so misunderstood or we simply want to sharpen our skills, with a commitment to clear communication, peaceful resolution of conflict, and a few simple tricks of the trade, we can transform the way we express ourselves.

In his companion guide for couples, Dr. Eggerichs takes a closer look at what it means to “love and respect” and the deeper yearnings of the heart. He says:

“Men and women both need love

and both need respect.

But the cry from a woman’s deepest soul

is to be loved

and the cry from a man’s deepest soul

is to be respected.”

From there he distinguishes the crucial differences between men and women and the way we love and communicate with each other. Perhaps “love your wife” and “respect your husband” makes you bristle with inequality. I admit to a bit of bristling myself as I read these words. In fact, that verse in the Bible (Ephesians 5:33) always felt to me like it was written by men for the benefit of men. But getting behind the words and understanding the deeper meaning of what “respect” looks and feels like to a man and what makes a woman feel “love” is a necessary step in getting the love we want.

“No matter what your struggle—

criticism, constant conflict, sex, money, parenting, harsh words—

learning to communicate the Love and Respect way

can help you make crucial changes…”

~Dr. Emerson Eggerichs

“Love and Respect for a Lifetime” is a quick read and makes for a thought-provoking bedside or coffee-table guide for reflection. Blending related scripture with everyday tips for heart-felt communication, it is a gentle yet effective reminder to be mindful of how we express our truth, with suggestions for making our relationships better.

And while this book was borne from Dr. Eggerichs’ work as a pastor and couples counselor as an inspirational guide for improving and sustaining marriage relationships, I suggest that there is wisdom within its pages for us all; for understanding what motivates others is an important tool in reaching across the table and communicating with anyone—friends, colleagues and lovers alike.

And for my loyal readers a special Valentine’s Day treat—I am giving away a copy of Dr. Eggerichs’ new book. Simply post a comment to this blog entry with your favorite tip or technique for heart-centered communication (or send me an e-mail at melissajesq@gmail.com) and have your name entered in the drawing for a chance to win! (Please make sure I have contact information for you in case you’re the winner.) The drawing will take place on Monday, February 14, 2011.

As we celebrate this month of love, I wish you all clear communiqués, heart-centered connections and peaceful relations.

ROOTS

2010-10-01T12:35:00.002-06:00

When solving problems,

dig at the roots instead of just hacking at the leaves.

~Anthony J. D’Angelo

I’ve learned a lot about life by working in my yard. For instance, here in my mountain community great emphasis is placed on keeping things in their natural state. Aside from the main roads, very few surfaces are paved. Instead, roads and driveways are formed with packed sand and gravel.

Likewise, my back patio was designed to be gentle to the land, created from large slabs of flagstone that fit together like puzzle pieces with tiny pebbles in between, rather than grout or cement. The downside to this design reveals itself in the warmer months when I am faced with a mass of unruly weeds, awkwardly sprouting between the stones.

At first I went on a weed-pulling frenzy, bent over for hours as I pulled and tugged at the stalks of things I couldn’t define. After a while, my back hurt and my hands were tired, so I settled for the appearance of no weeds; I wanted to have my friends over for a fabulous party on the patio. At that point, I started grabbing handfuls of weeds, pulling wildly as I went for a quick-fix to the problem. A quick-fix it was not, for within two weeks those pesky weeds were back—thicker and stronger than ever—and, once again, I found myself slumped over for hours pulling them from the ground.

The next spring, older and wiser, I decided to take a different approach. Armed with a variety of earth-digging apparatus, I settled in for an afternoon of weed pulling, moving methodically between the stones, taking my time, digging deep into the earth to get to the root. It took me most of the day, but that season I only pulled weeds twice.

I thought it was a done deal. Imagine my surprise to see new weeds sprouting the next spring. My effort to get to the root wasn’t deep enough, and failed to take into account the many branching veins and structures supporting their unruly growth. This time, armed with an animal-friendly weed killer, I made a cocktail strong enough to take them all down, gently pouring the mixture between the stones in an effort to eradicate them forever. That year, I only pulled weeds once. Now it’s all about maintenance.

My experience with weeds—as difficult and frustrating as it was—gave me great insight into the depth of human nature and the truth of effective problem-solving. All of life, every creation, every problem, everything we think, say or do can be traced to the fundamental core from which it grew. When we ignore the root, we miss an opportunity for greater understanding, and without understanding we cannot possibly hope to solve the problem in a meaningful way.

So it is with social justice. When dealing with the great issues of our time, especially in this “day of the non-profit,” where giving is seen as fashionable among the “haves,” the first thing we should do is ask: What’s really going on here? Then start digging at the roots. That’s what many of the great charitable organizations are trying to do, often in tandem with offers of temporary relief.

But simply throwing money at a problem or attempting to lift people out of their problems without more—understanding why it persists or requiring some form of self-help from the receiver while sharing critical tools for future problem-solving (“teach a man to fish…”and such)—is no better than hacking at the leaves of pesky weeds.

Some criminal and civil justice systems have been examining their roots as well, evolving toward a more holistic approach to problem-solving, albeit slowly at times. Rather than moving forward in a strictly adversarial way, restorative justice is a unique approach to law—a social movement, really—that focuses on the needs of the victims, offenders and the communities affected by their actions; digging deep to uncover root issues and bring forth peaceful approaches to harm, problem-solving and violations of legal and human rights.

After all, if the root problem that led an offender to commit burglary is her drug addiction, simply throwing her in prison in an effort to punish and exact revenge does nothing to address the underlying issue of addiction and its psychological cousins. In this way, a restorative justice approach demands compassion—a willingness for those harmed to see beyond their anger and grief and cooperate in arriving at a peaceful solution that considers the safety and dignity of all—together with the offender’s commitment not only to repair the harm done, but to eradicate the root that led to the crime or civil malfeasance in the first place.

Examples abound; because in the end, everything has a root. So do we. And we must go there to understand what keeps us grounded—for good or ill—for it will determine much about the direction of our growth.

___________________________

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Monkey Business

2010-08-19T19:53:00.007-06:00

Everything

in this world

has a hidden meaning.

Men, animals, trees, stars,

they are all hieroglyphics.

~Nikos Kazantzakis

Monkey Business (c) MJohnson.

I was never one to carry around a camera, and I never really understood those who did. I mean, why not live the moment instead of trying to freeze it in time?

Even when traveling abroad, I carried a cheap digital camera, at best; sometimes, a plastic, disposable one, feeling obligated to return with proof of my journey. Often the pictures were grainy or out of focus, and sometimes the subject was so far away that, when printed, the photo made no sense. Just so, good camera equipment seemed to me yet another thing to keep up with on my mission to travel light. Besides, how could a one-dimensional photograph ever capture the magic and beauty of my multi-dimensional experience? At least that's what I thought . . .

Then a fabulous holiday in Bali and a little monkey business changed everything…

Monkey Business (c) MJohnson.

They came from the Ayung River Valley--from behind bushes, swinging from trees--wild monkeys running toward me from the dense tropical vegetation surrounding my mountain villa. One-by-one they came, more than a dozen in the clan, and as they played on the terrace railing I photographed them.

My friend called me the Monkey Counsel. He said they came to tell me of their endangered habitat and share with me their monkey ways. I think he was right.

I dared not feed them, but I welcomed them with sincerity and a pledge of non-violence. I talked to them like any old friend, watching their gestures and listening to their chatter; trying to intuit what they might be saying. We were very different but we understood each other well. They reminded me to play, which I did; and they stayed, greeting me each morning as I read the paper on the terrace and again in the evening when I returned from a day of exploring. We definitely had some moments—me and those monkeys--that fed my zoological curiosity and forever changed my mind about photography.

Soon after, I began to rearrange my life. I relocated to the mountains of Colorado. I invested in some quality equipment, including a professional camera with an extra-zoomy lens. I studied art and photography. I read voraciously on issues of human rights and wildlife conservation. I started working with animal and human rights groups dedicated to finding global solutions. And as I learned the art of Animal Speak, they all came out to play.

Before long, I found myself engaging in paparazzi-like behavior as I followed my new friends around in the yard; hiding behind big Spruce trees, lying in wait behind rock outcroppings, patiently surveying the land at dusk and dawn, all in the name of the ungettable-photo-get. (Don't try this at home kids.)

Who knew that I would share this land with so many amazing four-legged and winged friends? I love my neighbors. They are patient, fascinating creatures, and they teach me the secrets of the land.

For instance, a visit from bear reminds us to call on our powers of introspection to help bring balance to our lives, drawing on bear’s most noted habit of hibernation. Coyote lurking about can signal the ways in which we may be tricking ourselves or others, or herald the arrival of unwelcome news. Rabbit hopping across our path encourages expression of our creativity or speaks to the fears we carry with us through life, reflecting her most paradoxical characteristics of abundant creator and fearful animal of prey. Hummingbird reminds us to drink in the sweet nectar of life.

Our Native Ancestors call this “animal medicine,” encouraging us to look at the very qualities, habits and characteristics of an animal from which we may draw strength and wisdom, for there we find great lessons on how to harmonize our world.

And it was through this lens that I looked for bobcat’s wisdom when she came round a couple of weeks ago. There I was in my bedroom trying on suits, hoping to pull together a polished look for an important meeting the next day, when this mysterious beauty caught my eye. She was sitting on the top step just outside the French doors leading from my bedroom to the back yard.

Slowly, I approached, moving towards her like a cat so as not to startle or chase her away. And there I laid belly down, with my face just inches from the glass. She looked at me, then moved closer, touching her little bobcat nose to the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but there she was. And when she crawled onto a neighboring rock and lounged, crossing her paws all lady-like, I watched with anticipation for what might happen next.

Minutes later, she rose slowly from the rock, looking in the grass below, and pounced with precision, returning to the top step with a furry little four-legged treat, which she ate in three bites while looking at me through the glass door.

Whatever else she may symbolize, I viewed it as a message of encouragement and a reminder to be patient with my process of change. Fear and immaturity will not serve me now. Rather, I need to be in it for the long haul and persevere in my efforts to forge this new path—one where I seek to blend my business and legal interests with my passion for creativity, philanthropy and value-driven social change. No small task, to be sure. But this bobcat reminded me to slow down, look carefully and then move with confidence.

Looking back, my life is very different now than when I first began my career. Today, I’m a different kind of lawyer, finding inspiration in both man’s law and in the universal wisdom left behind in the delicate footprints of nature. And to think it all started with this monkey business . . . animal medicine, indeed.

Secrets of the Land

2010-08-19T19:44:00.007-06:00

SECRETS OF THE LAND (Bonus Version) by Melissa E Johnson |

What would our four-legged and winged friends say to us if they could speak? Or consider the wisdom of a flower, rock, tree, or waterway. They all have secrets to share, inherent in their nature, and I bring them to you now in this unique collection of wildlife portraiture, storytelling and botanical beauty. With more than 130 wild images and musings of my natural curiosity, “Secrets of the Land” will delight and inspire nature lovers and wildlife enthusiasts of all ages.

This is a large coffee-table-style-photography-book. It makes a great conversation piece and fabulous gift!

And a portion of all sales proceeds will be donated to various wildlife conservation and rescue organizations in the U.S. and abroad.

Be the Mountain Goat...

2010-06-21T20:18:00.000-06:00

Her great merit is finding out mine…

~Lord Byron

I met John while living in San Francisco. Quickly, he became my friend-spiritual guide-and-massage therapist all rolled into one. Such magic in those hands, such wisdom in his understanding—after one session I was hooked.

Trained in the healing arts of Chinese medicine, John began each session with a simple question: “What’s going on?” This meant that he wanted a brief State of the Union on my physical, emotional, spiritual and mental health because, to him, it was all connected.

During the time I lived in the city, I met with John every week. Through our conversations and his amazing body work I began to experience shifts in consciousness on many levels, but none more compelling than my understanding of what it means to be discerning. We spent hours talking about life paths—his, mine and those of our friends. We dissected, analyzed, and waxed poetic about love.

Then one day, while discussing my relationship with a man whom I loved deeply but who lacked certain core qualities that I wanted in a partner, John suggested that the key to my dilemma could be found by taking on the persona of the female mountain goat.

You see, female mountain goats—or nannies, as they’re called—will climb to the top of a mountain peak and sit there. She’s holding out for the billy with certain qualities—like horn symmetry; and short sturdy legs with a heavy body; top-of-the-line hooves to help him move about the rocky ledges; and, of course, social rank because this will determine his access to resources.

Below her, all the billies are doing their male mountain goat thing—snorting, bleating, locking horns, fighting, pushing each other around in an effort to win her. Some of the billies are killed or give up and move along in search of greener pastures. But the strong contenders continue their ascent to claim the prize at the top of the mountain.

They battle all the way, trying to edge each other off the rocky cliffs as they charge ahead. But no matter what, no matter which billy she may fancy from afar, no matter what’s happening to him below, she does not reach down and help him up in his journey to win her. Instead, she waits on her mountain perch and allows her suitors to exercise their determination and strength, for only those who make it to the top win a chance of partnership with her. Then she gets to choose.

It all made perfect sense.

Now I’m not suggesting that men are the same as male mountain goats, although I must admit that I have witnessed some behavioral similarities. Nor am I advocating that women (or men) just accept whoever shows up in their lives as “the one” by virtue of the fact that he (or she) beat a path to their door—that could get pretty creepy.

And certainly in this day and age the need to select partners based on purely physical or biological characteristics has diminished; though let’s face it, the dictates of “survival of the fittest” lie innate within us. So in a sense, I guess we all prefer a little horn symmetry.

But John’s mountain goat metaphor brought great clarity and the shift in intention I needed. For months I had been riding the fence of indecision, torturing myself with what could have been fairly simple… if I was honest about my needs and desires. And like the flick of a switch, suddenly all that was once dark and seemingly unknowable became illuminated by the light of my heartfelt truth.

So I started applying this wisdom to every part of my life—personal and professional—and soon found myself initiating some major life changes, beginning with the end of my relationship and ending with a brand new career path.

It hasn’t been easy. At times I have second-guessed my decisions and the overall direction of my life. Some of that’s natural, I suppose. Just so, before I made any real progress, I had to revisit my ideas about what I thought it meant to be “successful” and make peace with the notion that I was my own greatest block when it came to creating the life I desired.

And I learned to recognize that while people and situations show up in our lives often when we need them most, that doesn’t mean that every relationship, job or experience is meant to last forever. Some things fall away because we’ve outgrown them or we need to be available for something else. But we’ll never find that “something else” if we’re clinging desperately to that “not-quite-right-what is” because we’re afraid of change.

Ultimately, discernment is the lens through which we make choices. It does not mean that we're judging people and opportunities from a position of superiority. Rather, it is to tune into the soul’s wisdom as we discriminate between this option and that, truthfully evaluating what’s before us while engaging our intuition about what’s best for our lives. No easy task, to be sure.

Perhaps Steve Jobs said it best:

“You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.”

BE THE MOUNTAIN GOAT.

Calling All Bears...

2010-05-21T13:34:00.003-06:00

When a pine needle falls in the forest,

the eagle sees it; the deer hears it,

and the bear smells it.

~Old First Nations Saying

To our four-legged, woolly bear friends,

We owe you an apology. Truly, we’re sorry. Please forgive us for forgetting that you will always do what is in your nature to do. In our negligence, we have endangered your very survival.

You see, in our effort to be organized and keep our space clean, sometimes we put our trash outside the night before a scheduled pick-up, rather than waiting until the morning of. And sometimes, in our laziness, we dump leftovers in the trash and leave our bags by the door with every good intention of taking it to the dump or putting it in a trash can the next time we go out to the garage. Then we forget.

But in forgetting, we have forgotten you . . . we have forgotten that you are waking from your winter slumber, hungry, in search of food. And we have forgotten that you, like us, often take the path of least resistance—why forage for berries, fruit and nuts when a fabulous dining extravaganza is laid before you in a Hefty cinch-sack?

And in our love of nature—in our desire to attract and visit with our winged friends—we put out our bird feeders, hanging low from trees, filled to the brim with delicious seeds and sugary-sweet nectar, without considering what a challenge it is for you to turn away from that which you most desire. Willpower is not your strong suit.

Yet we unknowingly reward you for fearlessly exploring human places, turning our bird feeders into bear feeders and giving you a false sense of security around humans; a deadly lesson for you indeed, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to human conflict; at worst—euthanasia.

As with many life lessons hindsight is our great teacher. Now we know that if we change certain aspects of our behavior, with you, our bear friends, in mind, we will help reduce human-to-bear conflict and possibly save your lives.

So from now on, we promise you this:

Never again will we forget how very smart, curious, and resourceful you are, the way you follow your sensitive noses—smelling food five miles away—returning again and again to lucrative food sources.

From mid-March through early November, we will commune with our winged friends in less intrusive ways. We know that it’s best not to feed the birds when you’re out and about but, if we do, we promise to bring in our feeders at night—before sundown—or hang them at least ten feet out of your reach. And we promise to be vigilant in our clean-up efforts, keeping the area beneath our feeders clear of debris.

We promise always—ALWAYS—to remember these four rules of trash storage: (1) Store trash in air-tight containers; (2) Set out trash on the morning of pick-up only; (3) Wash all disposable food containers with soap and water; and (4) Periodically wash-out our air-tight trash cans with a solution of bleach or ammonia and water.

We know you’re tempted by smells—that’s why it’s better that we freeze our smelly food trash and put it in the garbage on the morning of pick-up—but, hey, we’re human and sometimes we get busy or forget. We acknowledge that any action to protect you—even if not perfect—is better than no action at all. So at a minimum we pledge to set out our trash on the morning of pick-up only, having washed our disposable food containers and stored trash in air-tight, bear-proof cans.

And we promise not to tempt you with anything that has an odor (food, beverages, scented candles, air fresheners and toiletries)—keeping our bear-accessible doors and windows in our homes and vehicles closed—even when we’re hanging out at home.

The mountains have always been here

and in them the bears.

~Rick Baas, from The Lost Grizzlies

It’s a challenge to stay one step ahead of you, but we know it’s our responsibility. You are our mountain neighbors, and you were here first—long before the first pioneers arrived. And our human behavior determines your fate. As they say up here on the mountain, “A fed bear is a dead bear.”

We know that if you exhibit aggressive bear behavior because you’re a bit too comfortable in human places—breaking into our homes, attacking people or lingering in our school yards—you will be considered a threat and you will be killed. And we’ll have your blood on our hands.

So please take your cue: If we should encounter you face-to-face in all your bear glory, hanging round our homes or campsites, we promise to scare you away—clapping our hands, blowing a whistle, yelling, or banging on pots and pans—not because we don’t like you, but to preserve your people-wary nature and save your life. Please don't be offended ... just run along and get back to your hunting and foraging ways. And we’ll do our part to keep you safe.

This is our promise to you.

With much love,

Your Two-Legged Friends

____________________________________________

To take the “Keep Bears Wild Pledge,” or to speak to a Bear Aware Volunteer, contact the Colorado Division of Wildlife, Denver office, at (303) 297-1192. Learn how to bear-proof your home by visiting www.wildlife.state.co.us/bears or www.state.co.us/bears. Or look for similar programs in your state. Educate yourself. Protect our wildlife.

All photos and content © 2008-2010 by Melissa Johnson. For e-mail subscribers, if you’re having problems viewing this article and photos, click here HEART LAW to link to the blog home page. Thanks for reading!

Call of the Wild

2010-04-24T16:05:00.014-06:00

If you talk to the animals

they will talk with you

and you will know each other.

If you do not talk to them,

you will not know them,

And what you do not know you will fear.

What one fears one destroys.

~Chief Dan George

Not so long ago, I had the great fortune to learn of a sanctuary for exotic wildlife located practically in my backyard—the Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keensburg, Colorado, just on the other side of Denver—so I went there to visit these four-legged friends and see what the rescue was all about. And there I found a refuge beyond my wildest expectations, a world-wide movement of recovery, healing and hope.

Play Therapy by Wild Animal Sanctuary.

Driving into the facility, situated on some 320 acres in the middle of nowhere, I felt as if I were driving through the rolling grasslands of a real African safari, passing acres of wild animal habitats on either side of the graveled road until I came upon the large, temperature controlled, round-house facility, centrally located on the property and designated as the educational center and receiving area for newly rescued animals. This is the first point of rehabilitation—fabulously staged playgrounds and swimming pools—where the abused animals are allowed to recuperate, play and readjust to life before being integrated into their new habitats.

And it was here that I learned the truth about the Captive Wildlife Crisis facing many lions, tigers, bears, leopards, jaguars, wolves and other exotic animal friends that find themselves out of their element and living in basements and backyards of private homes as a result of the careless attitudes and behaviors of another great species—the human. I had no idea how serious the issue was.

The problem looks like this: Man has a great desire to study wildlife and understand these rare and often endangered creatures from far and distant lands. Teams are sent out to capture these fascinating animals for public zoos around the world where everyone can enjoy them. But it doesn’t stop there, for in an effort to increase zoo attendance, more and more animals are captured then bred, producing cute and precious little baby animals that draw large crowds of zoo-goers, but which ultimately endangers their lives; for these exotic captive populations grow beyond what is manageable and sustainable and, soon, the zoos either have to euthanize their captives or sell them to private animal traders to keep populations in check.

These careless practices pave the way for breeding, commercialization and abuse. Some people even think they can keep these great cats as house pets! Insane, right? But prevalent; so the issues of licensing and the humane care and treatment of captive wildlife present additional problems to contend with.

That’s where the Wild Animal Sanctuary comes in. This 501(c)(3) non-profit organization is committed to exotic animal rescue, care and public awareness through education. They take in these “cast-off, unwanted, abused, abandoned and exploited wild creatures which man brought into civilization, bred and profited from, and no longer has use for.” And they’re really making a difference.

As I explored the sanctuary, I was overwhelmed with the sense of calm these animals reflect in their new, healthy environment—a place that honors their right to be cared for with dignity and respect. Lions, tigers, leopards, bears and wolves greeted me with yawns and roars while lounging in the setting sun, sharing with me their scars and histories of abuse.

Like this guy, who had been kept in a cage much smaller than his size—where he couldn’t fully stand up or turn around—in the parking lot behind a gas station somewhere in Texas, where for a small fee patrons could go out back and gawk at him through the bars of his prison; and where he was beaten by his “owner” for doing what was in his nature to do; for being irritated by his show-and-tell life. Why do people feel the need to dominate animals in this way?

Still, notwithstanding his scars, here in the spaciousness of his sanctuary den, he portrayed a sense of relief as he lounged peacefully in his new environment.

I stood in awe as I watched him, amazed at nature’s splendor and the telepathic way that animals communicate with us. I believe they want us to know them—their struggles, their pain—and we can, but we must quiet our minds enough to listen with our hearts and engage their living spirits, an ability that goes far beyond any act of anthropomorphism that we may conjure up. It is to connect to the essence of Life itself. And when we do—when we open ourselves to these healing connections—we see beyond our impermanent human condition into a shared mystical experience of life, even if for just one moment.

And as the sun prepared to do its disappearing act in the night sky, the wolves gathered round to howl a great “goodnight.”

_______________________________________

By Melissa Johnson

To get involved or find out how you can help, please visit the Wild Animal Sanctuary and follow them on Twitter at www.twitter.com/animalsanctuary). All photos except for Black Bear in the Wild were shot on location at the Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keensburg, Colorado © 2009.

E-mail subscribers: Are you having trouble viewing this article and photos by e-mail? Click here Heart Law to be redirected to the blog home page. Thanks for reading!

Consciousness Unfolding

2010-04-05T20:17:00.008-06:00

One thing we do know:

Life will give you whatever experience

is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness.

~Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth

___________________

I was having dinner with a friend in a small North Beach restaurant in the heart of San Francisco—one of the most culturally diverse cities in America—when two guys with shaved heads walked in dressed in camouflage, suspenders and black boots, bearing the Aryan Nation insignia. They were loud and boisterous, making everyone uncomfortable from the start, and we just knew they weren’t from the city. Within moments, two of the ethnic customers got up and left the restaurant in a hurry while the supremacists made snide comments about their departure.

They placed their orders, taking pleasure in harassing the young Middle Eastern woman working behind the counter, and then took seats at a table in the middle of the restaurant where they continued with their mean-spirited banter, making loud racist comments and laughing at their power.

When their orders were ready, the young woman carried the tray from the kitchen and as she approached the men, one of them hit the tray from underneath, knocking it up into the air before sending it crashing to the floor, scattering food all over the restaurant. The girl immediately knelt down to clean up the mess, apologizing to the guys and telling them that she would bring more food.

“Avert your eyes,” one of the guys said loudly, scaring the girl even further into submission. “I said avert your eyes!” He commanded, laughing at her nervousness. Soon her Spanish co-worker appeared from behind the counter to help clean up the mess. Everyone in the restaurant held their breath, looking around nervously, afraid of what these guys might do—possibly planning their emergency exit—but no one doubted that we were in the presence of evil. My friend and I ate quickly and left the restaurant, alerting a nearby policeman of the trouble brewing.

This is an extreme example given to illustrate the state of unconsciousness in which so many people live, disconnected from the essence of who they are and why they’re really here; focused on the physical illusions and thinking them real. But we don’t have to be racist pigs to be sleepwalking through life. Unconsciousness comes in many forms.

Conscious [kon-shuhs]

To be conscious means that we are aware

of the true nature of our existence,

our sensations, our thoughts, our actions, our patterns,

the environment and the people around us;

it is to be mindful and willing participants
in the unfolding of our lives.

When we’re disconnected from Spirit, so identified with our egos and living in fear, we are asleep. When we participate in the human drama, caught up again and again in the pettiness of life, constantly on guard and doing battle, we are asleep. When we attempt to control or oppress others through manipulation, fear or domination—believing that we’re somehow entitled to our “superior” status—we are asleep. When we fail or refuse to see that our actions, habits and attitudes impact the people and environment around us, we are asleep.

When an inner situation is not made conscious,

it appears outside as fate.

~Carl Jung

That we find ourselves now on the brink of environmental disaster—struggling with a laundry list of social issues—should come as no surprise given the way we have collectively lived here on planet Earth; the way we have so often put our personal interests above the greater environmental concerns, failing or refusing to take action when doing so would infringe on our comfort and convenience or otherwise threaten our bottom line. And then when faced with a crisis FINALLY we start to wake up and take steps to correct our course, all the while bemoaning our fate, some even viewing our reality as punishment from an angry and vengeful God.

Or consider the role of the United States in breeding anti-American sentiment in the world. The way we have knowingly supported the rise to power of certain unsavory characters (Saddam Hussein, for one) and then when we lose control of them, we invade their countries—hunt them down like dogs—and remove them from power, often killing innocent people in the process.

Or the way that our government has a history of selective intervention when people are being oppressed or subjected to horrific crimes against humanity, with such decisions—to intervene or not, and to what extent—based largely on our economic interests in that region.

We tiptoe all around the issue of sovereign rights even as basic human rights are being slaughtered by those in power, yet we barge right in with our bombs and self-righteousness when our oil interests are in jeopardy. Think of our failure to intervene in the mass political genocides of Rwanda in the 90s; or our soft trade embargos against Burma and our refusal to intervene in the torture, rape, murder and oppression of people taking place everyday by Burma’s junta (police); in large part so as not to disturb our economic interests there, and because China and Russia are Burma’s staunch allies in the UN and we wouldn’t dare cross China and Russia.

Or the way that Anti-Americanism continues to grow in Pakistan as a result of U.S. Drone attacks (by unmanned aerial vehicles) in their country, introduced first by President Bush in 2004 as part of this “War on Terror” and continued by President Obama today.

Or the Latin-American anti-American sentiment (dating as far back as the early 1830s) expressed by Che Guevara in 1961 for these unjust reasons:

“The United States hastens the delivery of arms to the puppet governments they see as being increasingly threatened and it makes them sign pacts of dependence to legally facilitate the shipment of instruments of repression and death and of troops to use them.”

Let’s be clear: I neither condone this hate nor give license to their retaliation anymore than I support the bad behavior of our U.S. leaders. As a criminologist, lawyer and human rights advocate, I have learned that we all have within us the capacity for good and evil. So I'm not selectively bashing our great country. To be sure, I am proud to be an American, and I continue to be amazed by the stories of heroism, community, selflessness and love of humanity expressed between neighbors, states, countries and so on, equally as powerful in breeding love as those that breed hate.

But we are not innocent "victims" of our fate. Our good does little to mitigate the damage our unconscious ways, and our failure or refusal to look at our collective role in the social issues we face is just another way that we sleepwalk through life. To assume that the government or someone else will "take care of it" is equally unconscious.

Consciousness is not an all-or-nothing proposition; rather, it is a continual unfolding, day after day, year after year, lifetime upon lifetime—like the petals of a fragrant flower, opening wider and wider still to reveal its beautiful truth.

Eckhart Tolle says, “We are here to wake up.” And as many people and societies have learned through time, either we can help ourselves in that process or we can have awareness forced upon us by circumstances seemingly beyond our control.

Because in the end, everything we close our eyes to or ignore will block us, and we will find ourselves drifting along on others’ agendas. Our personal lives are no different. And the more we back ourselves into a corner, the fewer choices we have.

In all things, we must seek the light of awareness. This is our big job, as my grandfather liked to say. We must not look away because it’s difficult or inconvenient, or because it demands something of us. We must not wait for someone else to do what is within our power to do.

Instead, as we continue to ask ourselves as individuals, governments, nations and the world at large "Why do we do what we do? How can we make it better?" perhaps, eventually, we'll break through the illusions that keep us stuck, layer by layer, until we no longer need such harsh reminders of this truth.

Some say I’m a dreamer; idealistic to a fault. But I believe that our greatest creative choice on any given day is the choice to be conscious participants in the unfolding of our lives.

And you? What story are you writing in the great book of humanity?

______________________________

By Melissa Johnson

* If you have trouble viewing this article in your e-mail, click here "Heart Law" to go to the blog home page.

Dancing Through Eternity

2010-03-18T14:23:00.000-06:00

Everyone has been made for some particular work

and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

~Rumi

In the Silence of Purpose ~ Majestic Redwoods

______________

Did you know that redwood trees connect with purpose? Call me crazy, but I swear it’s true. I saw it with my own eyes while on a guided hike through the redwood forests of Big Sur, California. “Amazing” doesn’t even come close to describing this scene.

There he was—an 800+ year-old tree on the edge of a steep embankment in the forest. You could see where his age, weight and precarious position so close to the edge had caused his massive root structure to begin separating from the earth as the soil eroded beneath him. He had been on the verge of uprooting entirely, which would have caused him to plummet to his death in the ravine below, until his Lady Redwood stepped in.

Being about 200+ years his junior, she had youth and strength on her side and solid ground beneath her trunk, so she leaned toward Sir Redwood, excreted a sappy substance to aid her in melding her trunk to his, and then leaned back, pulling him upright and saving him from death, forever binding them together.

Now I didn’t actually see this merger take place in real time, but I saw the lasting effects of the commitment created by their common purpose. And there nestled between them was their love child—Baby Redwood, a mere youngster at approximately 150 years old.

And I thought: If the redwoods connect with purpose, shouldn’t we?

We are here on purpose.

So, too, are the people and events in our lives.

They are here for our learning and growth...

and they teach us of the qualities of our soul.

All of our connections bring something to our lives—for good or ill. Some enhance us; others distract us as we spin around in the muck, confused by our mindless living. Yet even those that distract and confuse help us learn something about ourselves.

The longer I live the more I understand the importance of clarity and purpose—opening our hearts and minds to the greater truth of why we’re here, whatever that means for us individually—so that we may form more conscious connections that support us on our path. In so doing, we bring greater depth, meaning and purpose to our lives. And in this we honor Life itself.

So as you move through the world, ask yourself:

1. Why am I here? What unique thread am I here to weave into the tapestry of Life?

2. Am I living with purpose? What can I do to become more conscious in my connections?

3. Do my personal relationships honor my greatest Truth? Do they support my path or drain my precious energy and distract me from my true purpose? How can I be more discerning?

4. With respect to that difficult or challenging connection with “X”, how may I begin to view this relationship through the lens of purpose?

The Space Between

2010-03-07T23:42:00.012-07:00

Even the Rose,
Beautiful,
Healthy,

Vibrant and full of blooms,

requires just enough manure

to flourish.

~Grounded, by TR Hughes

In the fall of 2005, I found myself standing on the precipice of major professional change, having gradually inched my way to the edge during the previous year. Caught between two worlds, I wasn’t sure of my place in either. All I knew was that I was on the edge, and it was time to jump or find a peaceful way to retreat into the world I felt so inclined to leave behind. I needed a fresh perspective.

So I took some time off and traveled around the island of Bali, studying its culture and cuisine, learning to paint with acrylics, soul searching and basically getting my body rubbed by every massage therapist between Ulu Watu and Ubud.

I went to the doctor,

I went to the mountain;
I looked to the children,
I drank from the fountain . . .

(Indigo Girls)

Somewhere along the way I learned of a traditional Balinese healer named I Nengah. They said he had the gift—he could lay his hands on your body and tell you exactly what was going on in your life—a real spiritual man, they said. I was fascinated to see if it was true and equally eager to be enlightened, so I had my Balinese-speaking friend arrange for him to come to the resort to meet with me; he would do his healing work in one of the private open-air bales nestled between the sea and Mt. Agung.

Ten dollars an hour was his charge—what a bargain!—so I booked two, thinking he might need the extra time to sort out everything that was going on with me. And, too, my tolerance for body work was on the rise so that one hour was never long enough; like a junkie, I needed more to get the same effect.

Now I’ve had lots of massages. I get them everywhere I go. While some people collect postcards and shot glasses, I love spa treatments—the more exotic the better. I’ve been massaged by two people at once in a “Twin Sleeping Tiger” therapy. I’ve been covered in milk and honey and wrapped in plastic. I’ve had crystals and healing turquoise rubbed all over my body and hot oil poured on my third-eye chakra. I’ve had my spine reorganized by a woman named Helga following a most unfortunate snowboarding incident in France. I’ve been dipped in wax and soaked in mud. I’ve even had a watercolor painting done of my aura. But nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared me for my session with this “traditional” Balinese healer.

I was meditating in the bale when he arrived. He knew only one word of English, so he greeted me with a courteous bow and said “good.” Wearing a traditional songket and some kind of fancy hat, he appeared to be authentic. But when he turned to prepare his work space I caught a glimpse of a cell phone on his hip. What kind of wizened-sage wears a cell phone, I wondered?

Within minutes he began his therapy. At first it was like a normal massage. I laid face down on the table, and he rubbed my back, adding some deep pressure at points on either side of my spine. After 30 minutes or so, his movements became hard and fast, to the point that my skin started burning, which was somewhat alarming given that suddenly I smelled smoke.

About that time his cell phone rang and its crazy-disco-Get Down On It-ring-tone startled me. Okay, so I like that song and if I was in a club I would probably be the first one on the dance floor shakin' it down, but if he was going to have a cell phone, I thought, shouldn’t he at least have a ring befitting a spiritual healer? You know, like a harp or chimes or the sound of water dripping? And shouldn’t he at least turn that phone off while doing his healing work?

Imagine my surprise when he answered it. There he was, laughing and carrying on with his phone buddy, as I lay face down on the table growing more and more anxious by the second. And that smoke—where was that smoke coming from?

As I turned my head and looked back over my shoulder, I saw that not only was he talking on his cell phone, but he was smoking a cigarette, too, and rubbing my back with his free hand. In that moment, my expectations of connecting with him as a healer shattered to pieces. I had no idea what time it was; surely it would be over soon? I just wanted to get out of there.

But he had other plans, insisting that I turn over onto my back as he began a rigorous stretching routine with my arms and legs, working them in wide circles around my body, pushing and pulling my legs back over my head, all of which would have been okay had I been wearing shorts or a bathing suit—anything—but I was naked under that sheet. When I tried to alert him to my discomfort, holding the sheet tight against my body, he just smiled and said “good.” It was the longest two hours of my life!

When the treatment was over he consulted with a translator to deliver my report. He said that I was in good mental and physical health, except that he wanted me to eat more protein during the day to regulate my blood sugar. He said that he could see the machine of my mind working, working, working—that I think too much. He suggested that I meditate more. And as he turned to leave, he congratulated me on the baby.

“What baby?”

The translator spoke in hushed tones to the healer, then turned to me and said, “He says that you are pregnant—”

“What? There’s no way I could be pregnant. Trust me. Ask him what he means. Ask him why he says that...” I panicked, with visions of an Immaculate Conception dancing through my head. Within seconds the translator returned with an apology, explaining that when I held the sheet against my most feminine parts, the healer thought I was telling him not to massage my stomach because I was pregnant. “Many apologies,” he said, bowing out of the room.

What a mess! Though I can laugh about it now, the whole thing was terribly confusing: His appearance and “healing” treatment, my expectations of having a spiritual experience, his diagnosis—all of it. On the one hand I was keen to throw out the entire experience; chalk it up to a bad decision on my part. But the more I thought about it, the more I could appreciate its duality.

There's more than one answer

to these questions,

pointing me in a crooked line. . .

(Indigo Girls, Closer to Fine)

There is a tendency, I think, to view people and situations as being this way or that; one way or another; black or white. I say of the healer, “Oh, he’s a spiritual man,” and then in my mind, automatically I ascribe to him certain qualities and exclude others. When in fact he may be all of those things—a spiritual man who heals while smoking cigarettes and talking on his cell phone. It doesn’t negate his healing ability or his otherwise sincere intentions.

Or, for instance, I arrive in Bali believing that I have traveled to a sacred land, looking for enlightenment, only to find in places the same trappings of any big city—retail shops selling the latest designer fashions and a host of fast-food joints like McDonald’s, KFC and Dunkin’ Donuts lining the streets to and from the airport. Yet I’m judging my experience, disappointed with what I find; when, in truth, a place can be both material and otherworldly. Likewise, I can be inspired by a place and the source of my own inspiration.

Duality [doo-al-i-tee]

The quality of being twofold; dichotomy.

How could it be any other way? The nature of our human experience is twofold from the start—we are at once invisible spirit and a physical body. And within us lies a dualistic nature, a tendency to experience our thoughts, feelings, emotions and actions in extremes. Love and hate, strength and weakness, hope and despair, ambition and laziness, happiness and sadness, kindness and cruelty; one moment we’re riding high on a wave of joy and inspiration and the next, feeling low of energy and lacking the will to get-up-and-go. The same is true of how we experience others. These are all manifestations of the polarities within us.

The spiritual principle of non-duality suggests that these extremes are simply different expressions of the same energy—that there's no real separateness or distinction, only our perception of it. Ultimately, we wouldn't have an inner world without the opposing dynamic of an outer world. We can't have a front without a back; or a left without a right; or light without dark; and so on.

Just so, I think the challenge is in learning how to soften our hard lines—balance our extremes—and bring together opposing thoughts, emotions, and actions into perfect synergy in that space between, creating a beautiful life-energy rich in depth and meaning. In this way, for instance, we relax our minds enough to see Life not as a case of either / or, but maybe both.

And like the rose we learn to view the metaphorical manure in our lives as the smelly, messy yet beneficial catalyst of our growth.
_____________________________

~Photos taken on location in Bali, Indonesia during the ceremony known as the Kecak Dance or the Balinese Monkey Chant. Taken from the Hindu epic Ramayana, the dance tells the story of Prince Rama and his rescue of Princess Sita, who has been kidnapped by the evil King of Lanka, in the ultimate battle of good versus evil.

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Sweet Surrender

2010-02-28T23:54:00.033-07:00

Faith consists in believing

when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.

~Voltaire

Sweet Surrender © 2010 by Melissa Johnson.
________________

My friend Jimmy got into a bidding war on eBay for the purchase of a human soul. He didn't go there looking for a soul, but he was charmed by the illusion of buying one when he found it was for sale. “Well, I thought it might be nice to have an extra one in my pocket just in case…” he joked when I teased him about his near purchase. Ultimately, he missed the cut-off time for entering his final bid and the random soul was sold to the highest bidder for $50.

And to think … the Devil went down to Georgia looking for a soul to steal. Now you can buy one on eBay from the comfort of your living room--and relatively cheap! The world is flat, indeed.

All joking aside, Jimmy’s eBay auction really got me thinking: What is the value of a human life and the soul that dwells within?

I contemplated the extraordinary capacity of survivors to rebound from tragedy and loss—like those who lived to tell of the atrocities of Hitler’s Germany; children rescued from brothels after being sold into slavery by their families; ordinary people beating the odds of cancer or other life-threatening illnesses; rising from the ashes of violent crimes, disfiguring accidents or financial disaster—and I wondered, what allows these people to surrender with grace to their crushing circumstances?

Sure there are stories of human survival aided not so much by a spiritual belief system but by a strong will to live, rising up from somewhere deep within their DNA—fight or flight. But more often than not, the common thread running through these stories of survival can be traced to a fundamental faith in something far greater than the individual even when the events of their lives made no sense; even when it seemed that they had been forgotten.

When things run amuck in our lives,
without a spiritual root,
what do we hold on to?

What do we surrender to?

How do we hope for something better?

Where do we put our faith?

Consider these equally tragic examples with very different outcomes.

Rwanda in the 90s was a dark place. Tensions ran high as the two main political groups—the Tutsis and the Hutus—were pitted against each other in much the same way that Hitler seized political control of Germany, turning Nazis against Jews. As it was in the 90s, if you had the great misfortune of being born into a family of Tutsis, regardless of your independent beliefs, you were a target for political genocide.

Imaculee Illibigiza was one of the few Tutsi women who survived. On the run, she was taken in by a Hutu minister and hidden from her would-be killers, while her parents and brothers were slaughtered along with a million others.

Her refuge was a tiny bathroom measuring 3 x 4 feet, hidden behind an armoire in the minister’s bedroom; she shared this space with six other women for more than 90 days as they waited and prayed for their rescue. They couldn’t speak out loud or make any noise for fear of being heard. They were instructed to flush the toilet only when someone was using the adjoining bathroom. Believing that the minister was hiding the enemy, Hutu soldiers repeatedly raided his home in search of more Tutsis to kill. Yet they never found the tiny bathroom concealing these women.

While in hiding, Imaculee prayed and meditated for hours each day. In her state of exhaustion and hunger, she saw a vision of herself working for the U.N.; she believed it was a vision from God. And she knew that she would have to learn to speak English so that she could communicate with the other U.N. workers. Trusting her vision in spite of the circumstances surrounding her, she convinced the Hutu minister to bring her a French-English dictionary and some other English-language books. French was her second language; but there, in that tiny bathroom, while hiding from vicious killers, she taught herself to read and speak English without ever saying a word out loud and with no guarantee that she would even make it out alive.

In her memoir, Left to Tell, Imaculee recounts her long and painful ordeal. What strikes me most about her story was her path of sweet surrender. She didn’t panic or freak out. She accepted the circumstances of that tiny little bathroom as being temporary, while never losing faith in God and what she knew to be true despite outward appearances. She believed with all of her heart that there had to be a reason for her survival--why she was the one left to tell this horrific story--and she was right.

Not long after her release from the refugee camps where she stayed after her confinement in the minister’s bathroom, she was offered work with the U.N., helping to rebuild Rwanda and using her English-language skills in the process. And while grieving the loss of her family, she met the man who later became her husband and loved her through her pain.

But what makes one person surrender to life
and another surrender to death?

In September of 2008, in the throes of financial disaster, Kirk Stephensen, a 47 year-old husband and father of one, and the chief operating officer of a private equity house, stepped onto the tracks at a rail station west of London. He was struck by a train and killed instantly. His death was ruled suicide.

Later that same year, in New York City, just two days before Christmas, Frenchman Rene-Thierry Magon de la Villehuchet slashed both of his wrists—found dead at his desk next to a bottle of pills—after losing $1.4 billion of his own money (and money belonging to his family and clients) that he had invested with Bernie Madoff, making him one of the biggest losers in Madoff’s fraud. Having tried unsuccessfully to recover the money, his brother described him as “totally ruined.”

Then at the beginning of 2009, German billionaire Adolf Merckle threw himself in front of a moving train, taking his own life and leaving behind his wife and four children. His spirit broken by helplessness and fears of financial loss and devastation, Merckle’s suicide is yet another casualty of our global economic crisis.

As I watched these events unfold in the news, I felt sick. What is wrong with a society that supports a mindset where an individual’s worth is measured by their bank balance rather than their acts of kindness, or the kind of parent, friend, spouse, lover, boss, or brother they are? Where financial loss leaves people not just devoid of cash, but bankrupt of all faith in the ability to recover and create something better for their lives?

In his compelling book, Creating a World that Works for All, Sharif Abdullah suggests spiritual starvation as the root issue. He writes:

“Lest you believe that spiritual starvation is the by-product of race and poverty, let me present a nightmare about the children of affluence. From 1992 to 1994, I was on the core faculty of the Oregon Governor’s School for Citizen Leadership (OGS)...The students were predominately white and middle-class.

"One of the exercises we would conduct with them was 'Stand Up If . . .' On a purely voluntary basis, participants were asked to stand up if certain statements were true of them. Among the items was 'Stand up if you have either attempted or seriously contemplated suicide.'

"Consistently, 60 percent of the students would stand up. They wanted to kill themselves. Why would these mostly middle-class kids attempt or consider suicide? As children of material affluence, they are told they have everything this society can provide. But they are still hungry. So they incorrectly surmise that something must be terribly wrong with them. Or they choose to leave a society that seems to have nothing else to offer... They want connection and instead get materiality. They want meaning and instead get a life devoid of cultural and spiritual richness, a life ripped free of context—historical, social, spiritual, communal… America’s middle-class children face spiritual starvation on a mass scale.”

It's not just our children who are starving.

So maybe we're not ready to sell our souls on eBay or throw ourselves in front of a fast moving train, but at some point in our lives—probably more than once—we will face some form of hardship and intense life challenge. And while I am not suggesting a course of pounding people over the head with our religion, I do believe there is a quiet, gentle way of influencing others by looking first within and shoring-up our own faith. After all, believing in a higher power and actually surrendering to it are entirely different things.

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

~Gandhi

Opportunities surround us everyday to practice faith and surrender in our lives, especially with the small stuff, which prepares us for the greater challenges. And perhaps in so doing, we will send a calming, healing energy into the world, like ripples in a pond.

Here are some ideas to start:

1. When faced with a challenge, set-back or great difficulty, STOP SPINNING. Take a few deep breaths and remind yourself of at least one time in your life where you have overcome a seemingly insurmountable obstacle or survived a tragedy. Consider the source of your strength and how you made it through your ordeal. Follow that thought with a memory of a good time that came later. Look for the lesson. Remember, you are strong; you've already worked through many challenges in your life. In every instance you have a choice in how you react to the problem.

2. Stay calm when possible and ground yourself. Seek sound, practical advice before making any hasty decisions. Get clear about what you need to do; stay alert and aware of all that is happening around you. Remember that love engages; fear reacts.

3. Connect with the comforting rhythm of a routine; yes, even in the midst of difficulty. Think about Imaculee in that tiny little bathroom with 6 other Tutsi women for more than 90 days. Even though she was hiding for her life, she still devoted herself to prayer, meditation and studying her French-English translations rather than surrendering to the fearful mind. Especially in difficult times, routine can bring peace and help us feel as if we have some command of our life. Eat nutritious meals whenever possible, take care of your hair and skin, exercise, sleep, pray, meditate, read books that inspire, and believe in good times to come.

4. Meditate on the image of a lion; contemplate his strength as you connect with your own spiritual strength—life-giving and eternal—radiating out from your heart like the energy of the sun itself.

5. Be gentle with yourself. As the saying goes, Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end. (Unknown)

And as you move through the world, be ever mindful of the true value of Life and the precious liquid of your soul: PRICELESS. . .

The Alchemy of Love

2010-02-23T13:42:00.019-07:00

All changes, even the most longed for,
have their melancholy;

for what we leave behind is part of ourselves;

we must die to one life before we can enter into another.

~Anatole France

Awakening to the Dream. © 2009 by Melissa Johnson.
___________________

Consider a snake molting her skin. She’s already produced new skin; it’s under the old stuff, but she’s got to get rid of it before she can get on with the business of being a snake in new skin. Still, the old stuff is holding her back from slithering around in all her snake glory. So she finds a rock or other hard surface and beats her head against it until she can break the skin, tearing it just enough to get some rollback action going; then she rubs and rubs and rubs against that rock until the old skin completely peels off, turning inside out. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." In this she finds her freedom.

Transformation is serious business. When things aren’t working for us or we’ve outgrown our skin—when we hear the mysterious call to step into the unknown—we’re challenged to trade all that we are for what we might become. Yet in our restricted state, sometimes we can’t get the depth and breadth of vision to see where we're going. With little more than faith in the process of Life, we’re urged to surrender even as we stand burning in the fire of change. And that can be painful, like beating your head against a rock.

Change is the law of life.

And those who look only to the past or the present

are certain to miss the future.

~John F. Kennedy

It has been said that the vast majority of what we are is impossible to see or touch, and that our willingness to transform—to move beyond our FORM into something greater—is the key to having a quality life. There’s no question that we’ll experience change, for it is the only part of life that's certain. But whether we relax into our change and use our energy to help shape the outcome of our path, or fight it every step of the way, well, therein lies the choice.

Perhaps that's why they say:

Struggle is sometimes necessary but always optional.

As for the snake, she simply does what’s in her nature to do; she follows the call of her Creator—from somewhere deep within her DNA—and sheds that skin, moving through change without resistance. Can you imagine a snake refusing to molt? “No, I don’t want to shed my skin. I don’t care if it’s dry and cracked and restricting my movement. I don’t care if it chokes the life out of me. You can’t make me shed!” Absurd? You bet.

Yet as humans, many of us resist every step of the way. We become so attached to our bodies, possessions and ideas about the way things should be—so connected to our wounds, our anger, our fear—that we cling to what we know instead of shedding our metaphorical skin. And in so doing, we deprive ourselves and the world of all that we could become.

Nelson Mandela came to a similar conclusion. During his 27 years in prison—locked up for his activism against the unjust laws of apartheid—he had a lot of time to contemplate his life and the many battles he fought to secure basic human rights for his people. He read the biographies of those he admired, the people who had done the most for humanity, and he discovered that their success came down to a basic mindset—how a person handles hardship and disaster. Does it transform or destroy?

Mandela said that his jailers had taken the best years of his life; that he didn’t get to see his children grow up. They had abused him mentally and physically, and they destroyed his marriage. But despite this, Mandela would not let himself live in anger, because he would not let them take his mind and heart… Mandela insists that if you want to achieve your goals in life, you cannot afford to engage in anger and you cannot waste your life fighting with the enemy. You rather want to create the conditions in which you can move everybody toward your goals. Mandela did this in 1995 when he gave his support to the predominately white Rugby team—a potent symbol of the former apartheid regime—engineering a massive shift in white public opinion. [Nelson Mandela, A Life in Photographs, text by John D. Battersby.]

Like Mandela, I find that the greatest change agents are alchemists of love. It doesn’t take an extraordinary person to do this; it only takes an ordinary person committed to positive change, doing unique and extraordinary things in the face of adversity.

Ultimately, I believe that our ability to transmute the poisons of our negative emotions and life experiences into higher states of awareness is the process through which we reach wholeness; this is our path to freedom. Remember the Law of Energy—it can neither be created nor destroyed, it simply changes form. What kind of alchemist are you?

As you move through intense periods of growth and change, ask yourself:

1. Who am I really, and what are the lessons / gifts of my challenge?

2. Am I fighting myself and others? How can I relax my resistance to this process?

3. What is my highest and best path forward? How can I maintain inner peace through this transition?

4. Am I operating from love or fear? Consider:

Where love creates, fear destroys.

Where love empowers, fear oppresses.

Where love expands, fear restricts.

Where love inspires, fear coerces.

Where love sees opportunity, fear sees loss and entitlement.

Where love seeks to understand, fear demands to be understood.

Where love says "How may I serve?"

Fear says, "What have you done for me lately?"

Whatever your changes, connect with the wisdom of your heart; for there in the stillness, love will show the way.

Sweet Love, Say...

2010-02-14T23:59:00.013-07:00

Any human life situation is like

the momentary position of a kaleidoscope;

and the group of souls within that situation

are like the bits of brightly colored glass

which form an interesting pattern of relationship.

Then the kaleidoscope is shaken . . .

and with this flick of the wrist

there comes into being a new design,

a new combination of elements.

And so on, again and again,

time after time, always different . . .

always it is significant, and always

there is a dynamic and purposeful intention.

~Gina Cerminara, PhD

Many Lives, Many Loves

Naked. © 2007 by Melissa Johnson.
_____________________

I’ve always been a lover. My first encounter came early. I was four years old and attending the Happy Hours Day Care Center when I met little Jimmy Patterson, a brown-eyed, brown-haired fellow with the biggest, sweetest smile and a knack for stealing kisses on the playground—often in exchange for use of his tricycle at recess.

I remember everything about that day, from the little blue dress I wore with matching lace socks and white sandals, to the excitement I felt as I let him kiss me on the playground. And later, when my tricycle sped out of control down the asphalt driveway and I landed in a heap of skinned knees, bloody toes and torn petticoats, he was there holding my hand as our teacher wiped away the blood and tears.

The next day, he placed four pastel-colored chocolates in my locker with a note that said, “I love you.” And though he didn’t sign his name to the gift, I knew it was from him. I was so excited! I went home that night and announced to my parents that I would one day marry Jimmy Patterson.

Then I met Christian, this cute little rug-rat who lived next door. We spent every free minute together—hanging from trees, riding our bikes and generally running round the neighborhood as a curious pair.

That fall, as a contestant in the Little Miss Pageant, I was interviewed by a local television station and when asked if there was anyone back home I wanted to say hello to, I raised my hand in a flirty wave and cooed, “Hi Christian . . . I love you!” I wanted the whole world to know.

By the time I reached the second grade, Christian was but a fading memory as Andy became my present. There was something about that boy—he made me weak in the knees—the way he smiled at me; the way he beat up Charlie Preston for writing on my light blue jacket with a black magic marker; the way he stood close to me in the lunch line and sometimes played with my hair from his desk behind me. He was my greatest champion, my best friend and my first real proposal of love.

Imagine my delight and surprise when Andy placed a lovely diamond ring on my finger at lunch one day—a ring that he had taken from the kitchen counter while his mother washed the breakfast dishes—and asked me to be his girlfriend. No one was more surprised than my mother, especially when I showed her the ring that night at dinner—secured to my finger with masking tape. And you can be sure that no one has ever experienced such heartbreak—oh the agony!—as what I endured when forced to give back the ring.

Though it’s been more than 30 years since my first brush with romantic love, I’ve never forgotten that easy feeling. And while I didn’t actually marry any of my young suitors, with nostalgia I’ve carried their simple childhood love with me through life.

Love should be that easy, I’ve mused over the years frustrated with what more often seemed complicated than simple and easy. Isn't it? Yet how can it be easy, when Life demands so much more of us?

You’ve got to have something to eat

and a little love in your life

before you can hold still

for any damn body’s sermon on how to behave.

~Billie Holliday

Sure, we start out young and innocent enough, with our hearts and eyes wide open. Some of us have wonderful childhoods filled with loving memories. Others begin life with incredible challenges—violence, betrayal, abuse—that would harden the hearts of the greatest lovers among us. But no matter where we start, or the obstacles we face, we share at least one common denominator with the rest of humanity: We are at all times in relationship with everyone and everything around us.

Let’s face it, relationships are an integral part of our human experience, and I’m not just talking about the romantic kind. As we move through life, we engage in relationship at every turn: Lovers, friends, families, co-workers, our pets, nature—the world at large—all take part in this dynamic exchange. And so our challenge becomes one of moving through unique, yet similar, journeys of self-discovery and human understanding. In time, we learn that our relationships won’t save us from ourselves. Like babies, we must learn to self-soothe, making our own happiness rather than seeking it solely through our connections with others.

In this we’re presented with amazing opportunities to develop and nurture our most important relationship—the one we have with our Self. Sometimes we get it. Other times, the only thing we get is in our own way.

Consider this mind-body curiosity:

Our relationships exist primarily in our heads!

Sure, there are moments of physical connection
that we share with others,

but our perceptions, thoughts and feelings
about our experiences

take place on the inside.

Just so, love fuels our persistence. And if we are brave—opening our hearts to the lessons behind our struggles—we learn some things. We learn that when we ignore our truth, we suffer. When we’re out of balance, we suffer. When we chase and grasp and cling so tightly, we suffer. When carelessly we give ourselves away, we suffer. When our thoughts control us like an angry master, we suffer. When we view life as a burden—playing the victim by giving away our choice—we suffer. When we resist the purpose and timing of our lives, or fight the changes that want to take us to the next level of ourselves, we suffer.

Then with our experience comes wisdom—and with wisdom, great responsibility. Eventually we get tired of the drama. We wake up. We understand that while our hearts may have broken, we’re not. We start making better choices—loving ourselves more; taking responsibility for our “stuff”—as we begin to see how often we have perpetuated our own misfortune by ignoring this simple truth:

What we do, how and with whom we do it,

will bring a definite energy and quality to our
experience, for better or for worse;
which begs the question—

are we living from love or fear?

When it comes to love, there’s always a risk—that we’ll get hurt, that we’ll be rejected, that our best friend or family member will disappoint us, that our beloved will leave us behind. But the only way that we'll ever fully open our hearts to the beauty of Life is by loving. It’s the energy that made us and, I believe, the only thing of value that we have to give.

This is the law of love.

Waiting. . .

2010-02-07T18:52:00.002-07:00

Heroes take journeys,

confront dragons,

and discover the treasure of their true selves.

~Carol Lynn Pearson

________________

Several years ago, at the Art of Music Gallery in Vegas, I saw a charcoal sketch created by rocker Grace Slick. It depicted a nude woman from behind, crouched low with her head sort of tucked to one side in a position befitting the artwork’s simple title, “Waiting.” I stood before it mesmerized.

How often had I felt at the mercy of something outside of myself, waiting ... for the next great idea … waiting for the right relationship to arrive … waiting to connect with my true life purpose … waiting for my big financial break … waiting for this person or that organization to recognize my value and worth … waiting for the day when all the pieces of my life would come together in a cohesive, meaningful way that would finally move me from the waiting list to actually living the life that I had been waiting for.

We’ve all done it to greater or lesser degrees. The offices of psychotherapists are filled with people who can’t quit doing it—this inclination to look to the future and dwell on the past. It’s maddening, and quite possibly our greatest obstacle to finding true happiness and peace of mind. And while counting down the hours, days, weeks and months are human illusions of a quantifiable future, in the final analysis we must ask ourselves: What are we waiting for?

Emancipate yourself from mental slavery;

No one but you can free your mind.

~Bob Marley

Maybe we enjoy a delicious meal with friends or family and, while eating, we’re already talking about what we’re going to eat at our next meal. Or, while gathered with family for Christmas, our discussion turns to how we’ll celebrate the holiday next year—a whole year away. Maybe we’re on a date with someone and we’re wondering about the future of the relationship—where will it go? Or we’re on a fabulous vacation but unable to relax, consumed with a general uneasiness and guilted by all we’ve left behind. Maybe we’ve taken a step in the direction of our dreams, yet the joy of positive action is overshadowed by a million little details that we’ve yet to address or our fear of failure. Why can’t we just enjoy the delicious chocolate mousse with raspberry drizzle?

I’ve asked myself a thousand times, how can we be expected to stay grounded in our experience moment by moment when filled with dreams and desires that require some measure of forward thought, planning, vision, movement, and, yes, waiting, to make them real? Anyone who has pursued higher education, started a business, built a house, had a baby, or lived their dreams with any success will tell you that it doesn’t just happen by waking up in the morning and wishing it so. It takes action, commitment and patience, while the crop ripens or the idea matures.

Consider this: The Hopi Indians view the world as either being manifest now, in the present moment, or in the process of manifesting from the unseen world of Spirit. Their word for this is “tunatyava,” meaning comes true being hoped for. The word contains no verb tenses to indicate past, present or future—everything simply is, although at different stages of being. What is thought or felt in the heart is silently communicated to the Spirit world from which everything manifests. It’s all one continuous cycle of creation. We could learn a few things from the Hopis.

The masterpiece doesn’t create itself;

it must be guided by the artist’s hand.

Perhaps the key lies not in eliminating our forward thought and past reflection all together, but in learning how to constructively work with our thoughts, for we are not our minds--they are great servants when we direct their course but terrible masters when they get on top of us.

Remember, if we spend our time in an anxious state—stuck in the past or obsessing about the future, doing battle with the dragons of worry, guilt, doubt and fear—we may not be free to enjoy the very special and lovely things about this moment. For the only creative moment we ever really have is right now.

Ask yourself:

1. How do I spend my meantime? Do I fill the time battling dragons or do I focus with faith on the gifts of my time lapse? (Remember, it takes just as much energy to worry or feel guilty as it does to do something constructive, yet each action produces very different results.)

2. What can I do today to honor forward movement while staying present in my current experience?

3. Is there a person or group who can benefit now from the gifts and talents I bring to the world, instead of waiting for some future moment to be all that I am?

4. What can I do to refocus on the present when I find myself doing battle with the dragons of my mind?

5. What will be the masterpiece of my life?

By Melissa Johnson

Beautiful Dreamer

2010-01-31T15:44:00.007-07:00

Dreams are illustrations from the book

your soul is writing about you.

~ Marsha Norman

Once while traveling in Brazil, I was approached by an elderly woman in the town of Ipanema. She grabbed my arm and began wrapping my wrist with a pink ribbon inscribed in Portuguese. I had no clue what the words meant, but I couldn’t ignore her urgency. She looked deep into my eyes and spoke in hurried, exaggerated tones, demanding something of me.

Sensing my confusion, a local bystander explained that the woman wanted me to make a wish. I love a good wish! So I closed my eyes and silently wished with all my might that the vision I held of my best life would come true.

She tied a knot in the pink bracelet, urging me to make a second wish, then a third. Each time she tied another knot in the wrist band, I closed my eyes, trying desperately to think of a different wish so as to maximize my wish potential, but all I could summon was a repeated prayer that my greatest dreams would come true.

After tying three knots, the wish-granting lady rambled some long, deliberate admonition, and in a flash she was gone. Again, my benevolent bystander translated her warning: I was not to take off the ribbon. It must come off on its own. If I removed it myself, my wishes would not come true and I would have bad luck. He also told me that the last time a similar band had been tied around his wrist it took more than two years for the ribbon to wear thin and fall off on its own. Great! Two years, I thought. This neon, hot pink thing clashes with most of my wardrobe.

Then one night about a month later, while lounging around the fire with some friends, my pink wrist-band became the topic of conversation. They wanted to know why I was wearing it and what it meant. I told them the story and, though not one for superstition, I joked about how I dared not remove the bracelet lest I destroy my wish.

One of the guys appeared to be napping throughout this conversation; however, when I finished my story, he jumped from his chair in one swift movement—grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter in one hand and my wristband in the other—and cut the damned thing off! But what happened next astounded me even more: Defiantly, he shoved the ribbon in his mouth, chewed on it for a minute, spit it out, and then dropped it down his pants. Then he flopped back down in his chair to resume his nap, mumbling something about “stupid visions” and “bad luck.”

Keep away from people who try to

belittle your ambitions.

Small people always do that,

but the really great make you feel

that you, too, can become great.

~Mark Twain

It was all very dramatic. And all I could do was watch in horrified amazement as my sincere wish to fulfill my highest vision was chewed on, spit out, and shoved down this guy’s pants. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I vowed then and there that I would never let someone destroy the vision I held for my life—literally or metaphorically—and I promised myself to be more discerning when choosing my friends.

The moral of the story: Your dreams are your own. Safeguard them and never surrender your vision to the reckless disregard of others.

Points to Ponder:

As we move deeper into this new decade, into this new year, and into another month of possibility, ask yourself:

1. Have I been true to my goals and dreams? Do I even know what they are?

2. Is it possible that the comments or opinions of others have jaded the vision I hold for my life, or my belief in what is possible?

3. Have I denied some aspect of myself that longs for expression?

4. What can I do today, no matter how small, that will move me one step closer to the fulfillment of my dreams?

Remember, your greatest desires plant seeds of thought deep within your mind that, when cultivated by the imagination and nurtured with unwavering belief, grow the vision of your soul. Open your eyes. See with unlimited vision. Free your mind. Do one thing every day that supports your desires. Be willing to correct your course as you learn new information and move through obstacles. And watch as your garden grows.

By Melissa Johnson

Passion Rising

2010-01-12T22:54:00.001-07:00

Don’t ask yourself what the world needs~

ask yourself what makes you come alive,

and then go do it.

Because what the world needs

is people who have come alive.

~Harold Thurman Whitman

In the movie Serendipity, the best man is asked to give a toast at his friend’s wedding. As a columnist for the New York Times, he decides to write the toast in the form of an obituary.

“The Greeks didn’t have obituaries.

When a man died they only asked one question:

Did he have passion?”

He goes on from there to remember his friend’s great passion for life and how it inspired his own.

My friend Stephan is like that. A charming French-Moroccan man I met while living in San Francisco, to me, Stephan is synonymous with passion, and I’m not just talking about the sexual kind. I’m talking about the kind of passion a person brings to life—even to the routine everyday things, like shopping and cooking.

A trip to Whole Foods, for example, was a spiritual experience for him. “Look at the tomato, sweetie darling,” he would say, holding it high in the air to get a better look at it. “Look at the color, how red and beautiful. Feel how soft the skin is. Can you even imagine all of the delicious dishes that we can make with this amazing tomato?”

Then two aisles over, “Consider the olive,” he might say with a twinkle in his eye. “It has all of the properties to give us a good life. We cook with it, and its oil helps the flow of blood to our hearts. It’s used in the lotions that moisturize your beautiful skin. Did you know it can even be used for lamplight? Can you even believe it? And when you put the olive together with the tomato, ooh la, la! So many delicious dishes we can make!” Every trip to the market was this way.

And cooking was no different. Stephan loved to cook, singing in the kitchen as he moved about, insisting that I taste and smell the flavors along the way, reminding me of the importance of using all organic ingredients. He used neither recipes nor measuring devices; his senses were the gauge of culinary perfection. And always, as he placed the platters of food on the table, he would smile and say to his guests, “I made it with love.” I think Stephan’s meals were so amazingly delicious, in part, because he was filled with passion, an energy that flowed into his food.

We all have the flame of passion inside us. For some, connecting with it is as easy and natural as breathing. For others, it’s a struggle to find, much less express. And for others still, it seems an inconvenience; why bother? When you consider the role that fear and human conditioning play, it’s easy to understand why some people are disconnected.

As children we hear things like: Simmer down. Don’t be so loud. Girls don’t jump out of trees. Big boys don’t cry. You can’t be an astronaut—we’re not that smart in our family. Use your fork; don’t eat with your hands. And for heavens sake, don’t burp or fart out loud.

Then our religious institutions tell us that all kinds of things are sinful and ungodly—dancing; sex without marriage or procreation; divorce; drinking a glass of wine; showing our hair and skin.

As teenagers and young adults we’re told to grow up, quit goofing around, and get serious. We hear things like, “Who do you think you are?” and “What will the neighbors think?” We’re encouraged to seek security by getting a “good job” and sticking with it, with little, if any, emphasis on whether we even like the work.

In relationships, we’re told that compatibility is more important than chemistry, that it’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor man; that you can’t have everything so you might as well “love the one you’re with.” We see people all around us settling for the “safe” thing or “the bird in the hand,” not what gives their heart the greatest joy.

It’s no wonder that by the time many of us become adults, our flame is just a flicker. How can we expect to open our hearts and connect with our passionate longings when we’re so estranged from ourselves? It’s as if we need permission to be who we are. So how do we break the deadlock?

Success isn't a result of spontaneous combustion.

You must set yourself on fire.

~Arnold H. Glasow

You know how people say that we should live each day as if it was our last? Inspiring advice on one level, but when it comes to passion I’ve got a better idea. What if we decide to live each day as if it were our first? What if we decide that this year, we’ll get back to our roots—lighthearted with a certain innocence of spirit—like children, approaching the world with excitement and curiosity that can only come when we’re unburdened by worry, fear, anxiety and doubt.

What if we shed these debilitating thoughts like old skin, wiping the slate clean and forgiving ourselves those uncomfortable demands that weigh us down with expectations of how things ought to be or would have been if only . . .

What if we rub our eyes free of the jaded perceptions that color our view of what’s possible in the future because of how things happened in the past? And rekindle the flame of passion as we connect with what gives our heart the greatest joy, remembering that our energy and dreams are the purest most natural resources that we have to offer the world.

What if we commit to something different? Can we do that?

Will you set yourself on fire with a spirit of possibility and the promise of each new day?

I think you can. In fact, I know you can. Now step away from your comfort zone . . . and get ready to burn!

As a ceremonial start, try Stephan’s recipe for passion:

Grandma’s Moroccan Meatballs

(Serves 3-4 of your favorite people)

Ingredients:

(Remember: All organic, sweetie-darling)

1 lb. ground beef (or turkey)

1 bunch parsley

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 small white onions (1 chopped and 1 cut into long, thin strips)

1 teaspoon fresh chopped ginger

1 teaspoon turmeric

Salt & pepper to taste

6 juicy Roma Tomatoes, sliced into wedges

1 tablespoon tomato paste

½ cup water

Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EVOO)

Lots of passion and love for your dinner guests

To prepare:

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground beef (or turkey), ¾ of the parsley, garlic, 1 chopped onion, ginger, turmeric, salt & pepper, then mix with your hands. Go ahead; don’t be afraid to get dirty! Form mixture into small meatballs and set aside on a plate. In a large sauté pan, add about 2 tablespoons of EVOO (or enough to swirl around and coat the bottom of the pan), Roma tomato wedges, 1 small onion (sliced in long, thin strips), the remaining parsley and a bit of salt & pepper. Sauté the vegetables on medium-low heat for approximately 10 minutes; stirring occasionally. Add tomato paste and water, stir and sauté for another 5 minutes. Then add meatballs to the pan, cooking slowly (still on medium-low) for 7-10 minutes on each side, turning once. And don’t forget to infuse your food with lots of love and passion. Try singing as you move about the kitchen.

To serve:

Arrange Moroccan Meatballs on a large platter with cooked tomatoes, onion and sprigs of parsley. Serve with mint tea and a platter of olives, assorted artisan cheeses and a large French baguette. Make sure you eat with your hands, tearing off chunks of bread and using them to scoop the meatball mixture, olives and cheese! And don’t forget to lick your fingers!

And for the vegetarians among us, the vegetable sauté is delicious even without the meat and makes for a wonderfully seasoned compliment to lentils, pasta, couscous, or as a simple bread-dipping sauce. Get creative!

____________________

Ooh la, la! Many thanks for my dear friend Stephan, for inspiring my passion and allowing me to share his Grandma’s delicious dish. Happy New Year everyone, and bon appetite!

By Melissa Johnson

Anything is Possible

2009-12-29T23:41:00.002-07:00

The best thing you can give yourselves...

is the gift of possibility.

And the best thing you can give each other

is the pledge to go on protecting that gift in each other

as long as you live.

~Paul Newman

I had a professor in law school who would show up, on occasion, to teach class dressed in a polyester Elvis costume—complete with a cape, pompadour wig and jet-black sideburns. He would swivel his hips and strut across the room, lower his chin and say in his best Elvis voice, “Anything is possible.” The class roared with laughter.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. The Elvis Anything-Is-Possible-Gig was his clever way of teaching an important principle of tort law: When bringing or defending a personal injury case, you must open your mind to every possibility in the chain of causation. He would throw out questions like, “What if, just before hitting the plaintiff in the crosswalk, a dog ran in front of the defendant’s car and he swerved to miss the dog, losing control of the car? Who’s responsible… the dog?” We all yelled out our answers.

“What if we can show that just before the incident the defendant had his tires rotated, and the mechanic didn’t tighten the bolts properly and the wheels were loose, which caused him to lose control of his car? Who’s responsible now?” The crowd went wild.

“Take it one step further. What if we could show that the local distributor, The Bolt King, delivered a box of defective bolts to the mechanic? Now who’s the defendant? Can we still sue the dog?” On and on it went, our excitement rising with each new possibility. And just when he was about to lose control of the class, he would swivel his hips once again and say, “Now what if Elvis showed up to teach this class? Could that happen?” We cried out in unison, “Anything is possible!”

Elvis taught us an important lesson about opening our minds to the unlimited possibilities that surround us. As lawyers, our clients and careers depend on it. Justice demands it. In fact, I think our failure to keep an open mind is, perhaps, the greatest obstacle to reaching a fair and just conclusion in any given situation.

But we’re human and, sometimes, in spite of our best efforts, our life experience and conditioning will lead us to draw sketchy, narrow-minded conclusions that are riddled with judgments and expectations about how things should be. And then when our expectations of how things should be clash with our reality, we become the source of our own suffering—frustrated, stressed out and disappointed with what we see.

Just so, we must find a healthy balance between the ambivalence of having no expectations at all and being so consumed with how we believe things should be that we spin out in dodgy assumptions. We must do our part to move things forward while leaving room for the magic and miracles of Life. And we must bring our awareness to the inescapable truth that our deepest held beliefs—for good or ill—will form the cornerstones of our expectations, which, in many ways, will influence not only what we see, but also the choices we make, which, in turn, will create our experiences.

"If it happens, it is possible."

~An unnamed law of the universe

Consider, for instance, our views of life and death and the extraordinary findings of survivors of near death experiences (NDEs), recounted by Depak Chopra in his book “Life After Death.”

“There are many specifics that change from person to person. Not all NDEs ‘go into the light.’ Some patients report traveling to various planets in space or to other worlds according to their religious beliefs. Some experience a judgment scene that can be quite harsh, or even hellish; it can also be full of satisfaction, however. . . The nature of the person plays a large part. A child can come back from heaven and report that it was full of baby animals at play, a cardiac patient can report sitting on God’s lap and being told by the Almighty that he must return to Earth, and [others] can see every detail of Tibetan theology. These images clearly depend on the culture they reflect. . . If different cultures see such different things after death, we must face the possibility that we create our own afterlife.”

Okay, S-T-O-P right here. What was your immediate reaction to what you just read? Did you think, “Oh that’s a bunch of crap!” Or did you relax into a thought you hadn’t considered before? No matter your reaction, assuming the reports of the NDE survivors are true, think about the implications of this important research: What we experience in the afterlife—who and what awaits us, and where—will be a direct reflection of our beliefs, expectations and current level of awareness.

With these findings, we are given a brilliant opportunity to actively shape our experience of the afterlife by working with our thoughts and expectations right here and now. And, too, might this enable us to cut each other some slack for our different religious or theosophical perspectives? It’s certainly something to consider . . .

Consider, too, our general beliefs about the meaning of time. Our entire lives are structured around a one-way notion of time—it marches forward, never back. And everything in our physical world confirms this understanding.

From the moment of our birth, we age according to a system of days, weeks, months and years, marked on the physical body by wrinkles, tired old bones and mysterious ailments that come with the advancement of time. Insurance companies hope that time is on their side as they collect premiums from the young and healthy that will surely be paid out in healthcare for the sick and elderly. Our banking institutions and investment systems all borrow from time, hedging our bets and interest payments against a notion of time that only works with forward movement.

The criminal justice system, too, is completely based on a linear version of time, with the severity of the crime measured by time served, and the most heinous of offenders—in a properly functioning legal system—receiving the longest sentences.

We wake and sleep, we plan vacations into the future, we celebrate the arrival of each New Year and the passage of each birthday, anniversary and special occasion, and we commemorate it all by scratching off days on the calendar and capturing select moments on film. Its evidence—the ultimate proof—that our notion of time is right. Or is it?

But then what about premonitions? What about the scores of people who reported seeing the events of September 11th in dreams or visions, or those who simply had an uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen that day so they changed their previously scheduled flights, BEFORE the planes flew into the Twin Towers? What of the numerous premonitory experiences reported every year to research centers around the world set up for the purpose of receiving and analyzing the visions of those who “see?” If we cling tightly to our treasured belief of time then, when faced with the notion of premonitions— the ability of one to see, intuit or sense the happening of an event before it actually happens —our beliefs are shattered into a million little pieces. Poof!

In his pioneering work, The Power of Premonitions, Larry Dossey, M.D. explains:

“If premonitions are valid, our commonsense beliefs about time—that it flows inexorably in one direction and that we’re locked into knowing only the past and the present—can’t be correct, because this view prohibits premonitions... Perhaps we might revision time by changing our perceptions. Time flowing one way, most physicists say, is a psychological illusion. Can we give up the illusion? Can we ‘change time’ by changing the way we think? The answer appears to be yes."

Can you change your thoughts about time? Do you become one of the skeptics who scramble to debunk, discredit or explain away those who have “seen” ahead of linear time? Or is there room in your belief system for a bit of possibility and course correction? After all, things are not always as they seem.

Expand this principle to every aspect of your belief system. Explore what lies beneath. Dig deep. Make sure that what you’re carrying is truly yours, and not some unexamined relic of the past or a fragment of popular opinion that you dare not question. With courage and truth, be willing to leave behind those thoughts, beliefs and expectations that no longer serve you. And then open the door for the wonders of life because...

Anything is possible!

__________________________

By Melissa Johnson

A Season of Enchantment

2009-12-23T02:27:00.009-07:00

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack, a crack in everything.

That’s how the light gets in. That's how the light gets in.

~Leonard Cohen

The orderly wheeled the boy into the playroom on the 7th floor, just as he always did after dinner but before the nurse came to give him his medicine; this was his favorite time of the day.

“Well, hello there handsome. Come on in. I’ve been waiting for you . . .” She smiled, standing by the art table with her hands on her hips. “What’s new with you?”

He blushed, bright red. At 16, he was showing signs of his manhood—small patches of hair growing on either side of his chin—and his voice seemed to get a little deeper each time she saw him.

“Hello Miss V… Doc says I get to go home tomorrow, just in time for Christmas—“

“Oh Jack, that’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands in delight, and then suddenly frowned. “I’m sure gonna’ miss you when you’re gone . . .”

“Don’t be sad Miss V, you know I can’t stay away for long. . .” he said with a seriousness that broke her heart. Forty-two days, that’s how long he had been there this time—his sixth hospitalization this year—at first for a spinal fusion, and then for pneumonia like so many times before. But it was the cerebral palsy that kept him confined to his chair, unable to use his arms and legs.

She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the drool forming in the corners of his mouth. “Hey, we’ve got some great new art projects tonight,” she said. “We can make a snowman . . . or a reindeer . . . oh, look . . . we could paint one of these ceramic angels or a Santa to hang on your tree . . . What do you feel like doing?”

“Ummm . . .” he contemplated his choices while scanning the room with his eyes. “Can we paint an angel for my mom? ‘Cause she’s an angel to me . . .”

“Of course we can, Jack . . . and then we can wrap it up and tie a ribbon around it, like this—” she said, holding up a cellophane bag with snowflakes on it, and a dark red ribbon for decoration.

“Yeah, let’s do that!” He smiled, eager to get started. Together they collected all of the supplies from the art cabinet that they would need to create his angelic vision—paint, brushes, a cup of water to rinse things off, a hand-towel and a bunch of newspapers to cover the table with. And as she prepared their workspace, she listened to him talking with the other children.

“Hi Lauren, how are you feeling today?” He asked, listening intently to her reply. And then to Kevin, “Did you beat your dad at foosball last night? I knew you would!” He laughed. And as Jenny’s mom prepared to wheel her back to her room for bed, Jack called after her, “That sure was a brave thing you did yesterday—donating your bone marrow like that. You’re a hero! Get some sleep tonight.”

Miss V felt a lump forming in the back of her throat as she fought back tears. She did that a lot lately, swell up with emotion and cry. It had been a tough year for her in so many ways, and she knew that her problems paled in comparison to the limitations of Jack’s life. Still, something about his tenderness and concern for the others hit her hard. She felt a little guilty for bemoaning her fate, and she swore to herself that she wouldn’t cry in front of the children. She just couldn’t. She was supposed to be there to help them—that’s what volunteers do—not melt into a puddle of tears in the middle of the playroom.

“Miss V—are you ready?” Jack interrupted her thoughts, now that he was settled in at the table.

“You betcha!” She smiled, blinking back her tears. “What color shall we paint with first?”

“Purple for the angel’s robe . . . and then maybe some blue,” he said, exercising his artistic freedom.

For the next half-hour they sat together, talking and laughing quietly, as she painted the ceramic angel and he directed her hand. Occasionally she would lift the angel into the air for his inspection, since he couldn’t move his head, and he didn’t hesitate to tell her when she had painted out of the lines or missed a spot.

“Sorry, sorry . . . I do that sometimes . . .” she said, laughing at his sudden bossiness.

“You have a beautiful smile, Miss V. You should smile all the time—“

Now it was her turn to blush. She had always been so good at looking after others, complimenting them, making them feel special, but his simple acknowledgement caught her off guard.

“Thank you, Jack. Nobody ever said a nicer thing—“

“Well I like you, Miss V. You talk to me like normal—when we’re sitting here like this—and I almost forget about my . . . condition. I swear it's the greatest gift ever!”

“You’re a good guy, Jack—wise beyond your years— and I like talking with you, too. . .” she said, clearing her throat as she blinked back more tears. “Speaking of gifts—what’s Santa going to bring you for Christmas this year?”

“Miss V,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper so the littlest ones wouldn't hear. “Don’t you think I’m too old for Santa?”

“Well of course not, Jack!” She teased. “Santa’s all about granting wishes . . . Surely there’s something you want special this year?”

Jack got real quiet like he does when he’s thinking hard about something. Then after a time he said, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Nothing?” She asked, shaking her head in disbelief because she had never heard of a kid who didn’t want something for Christmas.

He sat quietly before he spoke. “Well, sure, there are things I want but I know I’ll never get them, so I just try not to think about it—what I don’t have.”

“What kind of things, Jack?”

“Like walking. I would love to get up out of this chair and walk—run—as far and fast as I can. I would love to paint that angel myself. Every time I see my dog I want to throw the ball to him and rub his head—he really likes it when my brother does that. And I want to hug my mom because she always does such nice things for me. I want to shake my dad’s hand like a man . . . and play video games with my little brother. I want to hold a book and turn the pages, one by one, as I read them. I want to go to the bathroom by myself without that guy having to help me—“ he whispered, rolling his eyes toward the orderly sitting in the corner chair. “And . . .”

“And what Jack?”

“I can’t tell you.” He whispered, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Sure you can—“

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” she said, making a cross in the air above her heart.

“I want to kiss a girl—“ he whispered.

“That’s not funny at all, Jack. In fact, it’s one of the most natural desires in the world—“

“And I want to fall in love with her . . . and I want her to love me back.”

Overwhelmed with irony, she didn’t even try to hold back her tears for she understood his greatest loss—she felt it—the loss of freedom and choice. As for love, well, she wanted the same thing and she told him so. Sure, she had had some great boyfriends and some success in her life, but the one thing she wanted most of all—the one thing that money could not buy—was true love. She thought her heart might explode into a thousand little pieces with the longing he expressed. She knew it well. And she put down her paint brush and hugged him tight in his chair.

“We’re not so different, Jack—you and me—the heart wants what it wants. But love is alive and well in both of us and we must never give up.”

“What do you mean, Miss V?”

“Well, you know how you talk with the other children and ask them how they’re doing—how they’re feeling?”

“Yes—“

“. . . and the way that you smile and laugh even though there are things about your life that you might want to be different?”

“Yes—“

“. . . and the way that you feel about your mom and dad and your little brother?”

“Yes—“

“Well, that is love in its purest form. It’s a bright light, Jack, and it shines in you—”

“And it shines in you too, Miss V—like the way you help the children here at the hospital. . .”

“Exactly,” she said, and they smiled at each other. “We must never let our lights go out. We must never stop loving, even if others don't love us back.”

By then, the ceramic angel was finished—nearly dry—and she pulled some ribbon through the hole at the top so that he could hang it on the tree. She held it in the air for one final inspection. They agreed—it was good.

The orderly stood and moved toward the table. “We should probably get going Jack. It’s time for your meds.”

“Wait . . .” Miss V said, pointing to the bright light coming from the window across the room. “Before you go, let’s make a wish on the Christmas star . . . what do you say, Jack?”

His eyes danced with possibility. “Do you think wishes really can come true, Miss V?”

“Yes, Jack, I do. Maybe not exactly as we wish them, or in the timeframe that we would like for them to come true . . . and I think sometimes we may get something that we didn’t wish for but that ends up being better for us in the long run . . . but, yes—I do believe that wishes can come true . . . especially when they come from your heart . . . especially at Christmastime. After all, it's the season of magic and miracles,” she winked, and she kissed him on the cheek before bending down to unlock the brakes on his wheelchair.

Then together they moved toward the light.

By Melissa Johnson

__________________________

*This story was inspired by my little friends at Children's Hospital in Denver, Colorado. To find out how you can make cash or in-kind donations of toys or art supplies, please visit their web site at http://www.thechildrenshospital.org/. Happy Holidays!

A Camel in the Desert

2009-12-15T23:09:00.006-07:00

'Tis is the season of enchantment.

Of magic . . . of miracles . . . of mystery.

Inhale deeply.

I remembered something—something I knew but temporarily forgot—and it came to me in a flash of “Aha!”

There I was, driving East on Highway 36, following a train of worrisome thoughts that bordered on obsessive, when a truck sped past me with a large camel tethered to its flat-bed. Of course the camel was stuffed, and dressed for what I imagined would be a fabulous holiday pageant, but there it was sort of looking at me from the corner of his eye as if to say, “I see you.”

Instantly, the mind-chatter stopped, crushed in a wave of knowing that it was all going to be okay. And then I laughed out loud—at myself, at the human condition, at the futility of worrying about things over which we have no control.

Consider the camel. This guy lives in the hot, sandy desert—the harshest of all climates. He can walk for miles and miles in the most extreme conditions; never complaining, but always serving others.

Every aspect of his anatomy has been designed to accommodate his unique purpose. In fact, nothing but the camel can move through the desert with such grace and ease—not horses or donkeys or zebras, not cars or bicycles—nothing, for they all get stuck in the sand. But the camel was built for the desert, with legs that glide and toes that spread outward to prevent him from sinking in the blazing hot terrain.

The composition of his eyes are such that when sandstorms arise, he can close his thick, translucent eyelids and still see his way through the blinding terrain. And his nostrils are these highly muscular slits that close at will to reduce irritation as he moves through the desert.

Speaking of movement—with legs strong enough to support 1,000 pounds of cargo, a fat-storing hump and a body built for water conservation, allowing him to go for days on-end without food or water, not to mention his uncanny ability to find the next water source in the middle of . . . nowhere—this animal has carried the wealth of nations on his back, helping to build trade routes and cities, creating abundance for his human companions in the dry, barren desert.

He is at all times what he is meant to be—a generous and beautiful gift from our Creator. And he doesn’t worry or strive or compete for resources because every detail of his life was considered and designed into being.

And so it is with humans. We, too, carry with us all that we need for our journey through life. But unlike the camel, we get trapped in our minds thinking we’re separate, trying to control it all and make it happen NOW; at times, feeling victimized by our circumstances.

That’s where understanding our true nature helps, for it reminds us that every living thing contains within it a bit of the Source from which it came. Call that Source what you like—God, Allah, Great Spirit, Creative Energy, the Big “C”—it matters not, because there is only One Source from which all of life flows, and it’s nothing if not creative.

Take a look around—we are in a constant state of creation and movement. Every day, our bodies kill off old cells and make new ones. We breathe. Our hearts beat. We make babies, creating new life from our own. We sleep and wake. We eat and drink and our bodies process it all—distributing nutrients where needed and eliminating the rest as waste—all through an intricate system of organs, tissues and cells that we have absolutely nothing to do with; not consciously, anyway. Yet it is evidence of the creative blue print from which we came.

We were made to create, to invent things, to solve problems, to structure meaningful lives and make choices about how we want to experience our environment. And while we may not be born with every material advantage. . .or a perfect body. . .or an automatic solution to every problem—and for anyone who has ever pursued a goal or dream or wanted something really, really badly, we know that it isn’t as simple as wishing it so—we come equipped to function in the world and handle whatever comes our way.

We awaken our greatest potential by remembering our creative nature, reconnecting with the all-creative-I-thought-of-everything-loving-life force—or Source—from which we came. We are made in this image, they say.

Life is a gift, not a right. But what we choose to make of it and how we use it—even in the face of tragedy, adversity and disappointment—well, that is our right and I believe the ultimate act of creation here on Earth.

And so this was my holiday epiphany—a gift from a stuffed camel on the back of a truck—sent to remind me of this simple truth just when I needed it most. Now it is my gift to you. As we move through the holiday season and begin a brand new year, may you discover the wonders of creation within you and your amazing power of choice.
___________________

By Melissa Johnson

With a Winged Heart

2009-11-26T11:46:00.005-07:00

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

2009-10-20T13:13:00.006-06:00

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

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

2009-09-24T17:08:00.000-06:00

Defining myself,

as opposed to being defined by others,

is one of the most difficult challenges I face.

~Carol Moseley-Braun

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

2009-08-15T18:49:00.000-06:00

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

2009-08-07T10:55:00.000-06:00

“Men are not prisoners of fate,

but only prisoners of their own mind.”

~Franklin D. Roosevelt

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?”

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.

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

Out of the Chrysalis

2009-06-11T12:07:00.000-06:00

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a butterfly.

(unknown)

I moved to Colorado in 2006, hot on a trail of golden synchronicities. It defied all logic, really—this new path—and it didn’t sit well with my left-brained world. Still, I couldn’t ignore the signs. They were everywhere.

Having felt the first seismic tremors shaking the foundations of my life, I was looking for answers: What did it all mean? Where was I going? Would I be okay? Everything felt upside down. I felt the need for big change; but what? A lifelong passion for writing and helping others burned hot in my soul, but how could I parlay my law degree into a life of creativity outside-of-the-box? I was hearing a call of purpose, faint, at first, then louder; but I was afraid to listen because any change would create a domino effect in my life—geographically, financially, and emotionally. What if I got it all wrong?

Curiously, I found myself searching the Internet for mountain homes. Peaks and valleys have always inspired me. That’s when I saw it—an ad on Craig’s List for a beautiful mountain home in Golden, Colorado. It simply said: YOU WILL FALL IN LOVE . . . and I could see from the photos that I would. I could just see myself writing my first book in one of those sunny rooms. It was in my price range, too. But where the heck is Golden, Colorado? I wondered. Overwhelmed, I put it aside.

The next day, during a random conversation with a practical stranger, this man said to me, “Your opportunity for 2006 is GOLDEN.” What? Then later that afternoon I went online to order my first set of artists’ paints, and when I clicked on the link for “acrylics,” a huge tube of paint filled the screen, bearing the brand name GOLDEN. My whole body straightened with awareness. The next day, as I sat patiently in my window seat, waiting for our plane’s departure to NYC, I saw a very large truck parked exactly beside of my window with the words “GOLDEN TRANSPORTATION” painted on its side. Later, when I checked my e-mail, I found that I was now, mysteriously, a subscriber to an e-newsletter for writers and artists called the “GOLDEN THREAD.” And by week’s end, I arrived home to find a package from my grandmother in the post, containing a piece of her antique china with the words “GOLDEN HEIRLOOM” painted on the bottom. On and on it went for more than a month—golden synchronicities at every turn—meaningful only to me; until, finally, I got it. “Okay, okay—I hear you,” I said. The next day, I called the realtor. And a month later, I flew to Colorado to look at property.

I didn’t buy the house in Golden. It was a lovely home; really, it just felt all wrong for me. But I did find the most amazing place just beyond the town limits of Nederland. I stepped into the mud room and, immediately, I knew why I had been drawn to the area—this land as my creative muse. And I was right. Within a few months I had quit my job, moved to Colorado, and completely reorganized my life—starting all over again—in spite of my fear of the unknown; in spite of the inconvenience of change.

The past three years have been challenging, no doubt—fears naturally arise during intense periods of growth and change—but I have been excited and inspired in ways that I never knew possible, expanding my world again and again: writing, photographing wildlife, painting, volunteering, creating, connecting with myself, nature and the spirit world. Inspiration is a wonderful instrument of change. Through it, the mind expands in every direction, breaking all self-imposed boundaries and limitations, and brings with it the sweet taste of freedom.

My friend Karen calls my house a chrysalis. I can’t think of a better metaphor.

Consider the life of a butterfly. From an egg that’s the size of the head of a pin hatches this furry little caterpillar. When the time is right, without any promises of safety or guarantees of survival, she follows the call of her DNA and moves into the darkness of her self-made chrysalis. Then her real drama begins, as her tissues completely break down and reorganize multiple times, moving between different consistencies of goo, before finally restructuring into a beautiful butterfly. Assuming she survives this phase, which can take as long as several months, she will break through her chrysalis to freedom. Still, she must find a place to dry her wings in the sun because they’re paper thin and wet from being wrapped so tight in the cocoon. But there’s good news: Studies show that the more a butterfly struggles when emerging from the chrysalis, the longer its life span. And when you consider that the average life of an adult butterfly is two weeks, every second counts.

Transformation is serious business! It has been said that the vast majority of what we are is impossible to see or touch, and that our willingness to transform—to move beyond our form into something greater—is the key to living our best life. When things aren’t working and we’ve outgrown our skin, or a greater purpose reveals itself, we hear the mysterious call to step into the unknown—to trade all that we are for what we might become. That can be painful and scary . . . but incredibly rewarding.

Like the caterpillar, I have followed the calling of my heart into worlds unknown. And, more often than not, I have found a trail of sparkling synchronicities pointing me this way and that, supporting my thoughts and actions, like road signs on a long journey.

This June marks the beginning of my fourth year in Colorado. And as I look out from my mountain perch I see that each choice, each move, each soulful longing and new pursuit brought me one step closer to the freedom that I cherish. Now, having grown into new levels of myself, once again, I hear the call . . .

As I emerge from the chrysalis.

By Melissa Johnson

BE THE BEAR . . .

2009-05-30T14:54:00.000-06:00

Animals are great teachers, it is true; especially for those willing to open their hearts and minds to the greater lessons on how to live and thrive in our two-legged world.

Look deeper than an animal’s biology and connect with its essence—those very qualities, habits and patterns from which we may draw strength and wisdom. The Native American people call this “animal medicine,” as they have long understood the healing power of the animal kingdom.

Take the bear, for instance. Consider its most well known habit—going deep within the cave to hibernate for the winter until it emerges anew come spring. True, each animal has many lessons to share, but it’s easy to see how our Native Ancestors view the power of introspection to be the bear’s great metaphorical teaching. By introspection they mean one’s willingness and ability to go within and engage the process of self-examination and reflection.

Call me crazy, but I’m driven to explore and understand the deeper, often unconscious, motivations behind my own actions; a real nightmare for those who would rather not deal with the messiness of why they do what they do. But try as I might to shut it all out, part of me naturally connects with the energy of the bear as I ponder: What’s triggering this emotional response? Why did I behave that way when . . .? Is there a connection between the thoughts I entertain and the day-to-day experience of my life? What am I holding on to that’s blocking my ability to move forward?

For me, the power of introspection has brought about healing on many levels—mind, body and spirit—so much so, in fact, that being a “bear in the cave” has become my personal metaphor for solitary reflection . . . when I have an important decision to make, when I need to work through a troubling issue or want solitude from the stressed-out world around me. “In the cave” I am free to connect with my creative side and establish clear boundaries when I feel pressured by the expectations and demands of others. Sometimes this involves focused meditation; other times, it is my way of spending time alone, which allows me to turn down the volume and connect with my intuitive self—that still, small voice within that knows what’s best for my life.

Experience has taught me well: When we don’t acknowledge our “stuff” it will always find a way to express itself, like water escaping through the cracks in a wall intended to hold it back; it could get ugly. And somehow, by ignoring what needs attention, eventually we find ourselves living out the same situations and dramas, over and over again—with a different cast of characters and slightly different story lines, perhaps—which aggravate our feelings of separateness rather than help us connect to the whole.

It’s sad but true—until we become aware of our patterns and learn what’s motivating our choices, we don’t stand a chance of understanding our Self or others and this can bring about great suffering. Sometimes we can’t do this on our own and we need the help of licensed professionals to work through traumas and issues of the past. But for others, going within to access our highest wisdom is a great place to start, and a wonderful habit to adopt from our bear friends.

So maybe we go in the cave once a week, or six times a year, rather than spending the entire winter in solitude; whatever works. But there, in the light of understanding, we can release the energy of hurt feelings, resentments, anger or whatever may be holding us back, and clear the space for new life to enter.

To be like the bear requires patience and trust. We must feel safe to enter the cave and know that we will emerge in the proverbial spring. And while there, we must learn to connect with our intuitive mind and the energy of our Creator, for this is where answers live and the solutions to our most pressing dilemmas can be found.

Bear medicine, indeed. . .

Legal Disclaimer: Remember, true intuitive messages are loving directives that offer insight and guidance for our highest good. Terrifying, debilitating thoughts or those that encourage you to do things that you know are inappropriate either come from manufactured fear or psychosis. If the latter please run, not walk, to your nearest psychotherapist’s office and do not enter the cave alone again.

By Melissa Johnson

This article first appeared in Colorado's Highlander Magazine (May 2009). Reprinted with full author copyrights and editorial permission.

Two Sides of the Same Story

2009-05-13T15:09:00.000-06:00

Even the Rose,

beautiful,

healthy,

vibrant

and full of blooms

requires just enough manure

to flourish.

Grounded, by TR Hughes [1]

My friend Tammie wrote this poem, and its dirty truth made me laugh—reminding me, once again, of the duality that exists in all of life.

For instance, consider this botanical curiosity: Water Hemlock (sp., Cicuta) is considered to be the most deadly plant in North America. Yet its physical appearance shows delicate beauty.

But woe is she who mistakes the clusters of white tuberous roots for that of parsnips or dill, both edible plants; a fatal error indeed. For when swallowed, water hemlock’s poison is so strong that it results in almost instant, violent and painful convulsions. Even handling the plant can leave high levels of toxins on the skin that—when inadvertently ingested by hand to mouth contact—will cause explosive vomiting, or worse. In fact, so toxic is this plant that, throughout history, it has been used as an intentional poison: Think Socrates’ execution in Greece by the deadly poison hemlock.[2]

And ponder this zoological wonder: Humans do not hold the title on laughter and joy. Chimpanzees, gorillas and orang-utans, our closest furry relatives, make laughing sounds when tickled, and they regularly play with each other, a discovery first reported by Charles Darwin in 1872. So while we humans are keen to distinguish ourselves from our animal friends, research shows that the determining factor for these seemingly cognitive functions is the size of certain regions of the brain—in particular, the amygdala—not the simple classification of animal or human.[3] After all, aren’t we and our monkey friends polar opposites on the same continuum of life?

Duality [doo-al-i-tee] The quality of being twofold; dichotomy.[4]

It’s not just the world of flora and fauna that breeds duality. We, as humans, are riddled with it. From the moment of our birth, the nature of our human experience is twofold—we are at once invisible spirit and a physical body. And while it has been said that we’re all created equal, our lives and experiences are so incredibly different, even in our similarities.

We experience our thoughts, emotions and actions in extremes: Love and hate, strength and weakness, hope and despair, ambition and laziness, happiness and sadness, kindness and cruelty; one moment we’re riding high on a wave of joy and inspiration and the next, feeling low of energy and lacking the will to get-up-and-go. The same is true of our experience of others.

There is a tendency, I think, to view people and situations as being this way or that; black or white; either / or, but not both. Yet the world is filled with dichotomies. How often have we met someone and, having seen certain positive qualities within them, we automatically ascribe to their character other positive qualities and exclude other more negative traits, only later to be disappointed when those negative traits emerge? Likewise, how often have we surprised ourselves with extremes of thought, behavior or desires, all coming from within?

The spiritual principle of non-duality suggests that these extremes are simply different expressions of the same energy. Picture it this way: A long string is stretched tight before you. On one end is your spiritual essence; on the other, your physical body. Though separated by string, they are opposing expressions of the same continuous thread of life, connected and inseparable as a whole. Ultimately, we wouldn't have an inner world without the opposing dynamic of an outer world. We can't have a front without a back; or a left without a right (unless, of course, we're dealing in one dimensional realities, like a cartoonist).

I think the challenge is in learning how to soften our hard lines--balance our extremes--and bring together opposing thoughts, emotions, and actions into perfect synergy to create a beautiful new life energy, rich in depth and meaning.

In this way, for instance, we view the water hemlock as a toxic beauty, equally fascinating in its ability to enliven our senses and destroy our life; we relax our minds enough to see that it's not a case of either / or; it is both.

And, like the rose, we learn to view the manure in our life as a smelly, messy, yet beneficial catalyst for our growth.

By Melissa Johnson

____________________________________

Notes and Resources:

[1] Riddles, Rhymes & Stop Signs, by TR Hughes. To purchase a copy of Tammie’s debut collection of poetry, please click here: Riddles, Rhymes, and Stop Signs by TR Hughes

[2] Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cicuta)

[3] Fish That Fake Orgasms and Other Zoological Curiosities, by Matt Walker.

[4] American Heritage Dictionary.

Who's that Lady?

2009-04-09T14:11:00.000-06:00

Every now and then beautiful angels appear cleverly disguised as ordinary human beings.

~ Adele Basheer

They say that guardian angels walk among us--always with us--guiding our thoughts, actions, what we see and hear; showing up at just the right time with just the message we need to hear.

One of mine appeared to me as a Gina Rowlands look-alike.

I was driving cross-country, headed west, when, somewhere outside of Memphis, traveling North on I-65, I found myself in a massive traffic situation. I strained to find the I-40 freeway exchange that would take me towards Colorado. There was so much traffic, and not one sign pointed to I-40. In fact, I saw nothing even remotely similar to the directions I carried.

Now I've driven in some crazy places. Generally speaking, traffic doesn't scare me. But this was different. Cars were flying past me, left and right, cutting sharply from lane to lane as they all tried to be in the right place at the right time to make their freeway exit. It felt like this road led everywhere and nowhere all at once. The thought of missing my west-bound exchange and trying to navigate my way from the other direction unnerved me. So I made a split-second decision and took the next exit. I had no idea where I was, but I knew that stopping sooner than later would allow me to look at my road atlas, get my bearings and perhaps avoid a traffic disaster.

As I neared the end of the exit ramp I saw nothing--I'm talking ghost town as far as the eye could see--except for an old, abandoned gas station, its windows covered with boards and unruly weeds and grass growing between the cracks in the asphalt. It was sketchy, for sure, but broad daylight, and I thought it would be okay to stop there for a few minutes and get myself sorted out.

Sitting in my little sports car--motor running, windows up, doors locked--I spread my atlas across the passenger seat, looking between my written directions and the small detail of the map. Just then, a car pulled up--a dark blue tank of a Cadillac--driven by a woman with white-blonde hair, pulled back in a large bow. I noticed that she had a handicap decal hanging from her rear-view mirror as she circled my car, finally stopping on the passenger side with a gesture suggesting I roll down my window.

"Honey, you need to get outta here right now," she said in her thick southern drawl.

Her excitement caught me off guard.

"Where are you headed?" She asked.

"I'm looking for the I-40 exchange, headed west," I yelled through the open window.

"Well, honey, you need to follow me; I'll take you right to it. But you need to go now. You need to leave right now," she repeated calmly through her smile. "I'll drive you to your exit and then I'll pull over and point where you need to go, it'll be an awkward left turn but I'll let you know when we're getting close."

"Okay," I said, feeling slightly nervous but grateful for her help. Who is this woman and what is she doing in the middle of nowhere? I wondered. "Wait, what's your name? I want to thank you for helping me."

"Just call me your guardian angel,” she said with a wink and a smile, tipping her head. “No thanks necessary. Come on now, let's get moving . . ."

She pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly at first, and we meandered some 3 miles down these winding, nowhere roads--a few turns here and there—then, true to her word, as we neared the exit, she pulled off on the right-hand shoulder of the road and stuck her arm out of the window, waving wildly and pointing left, motioning for me to exit. And off I went.

For the next two hours I drove in complete silence--no music, no cell phone chit-chat, no distractions--just me and my awe-filled thoughts of wonder about this guardian angel. And though I had no way of knowing what could have happened—what would have happened—had she not appeared, had I lingered in that parking lot one minute longer or entered the freeway one second later, in my heart, I knew that she had saved me from misfortune.

As we move through life, I think it’s important that we keep our eyes, ears and hearts open—all of our senses, really—to the messages around us, even those that come in unlikely forms. You never know when someone you encounter may be an earth-angel, there to help you, protect you, teach you or bring you into higher levels of yourself.

No matter the form, experience has taught me well. Angels, indeed, walk among us . . . or drive, as the case may be.

By Melissa Johnson

_________________________________

This article is dedicated to my beloved Grandfather, Karl Mason. April 9, 1919 -- July 17, 2008. In your new spirit form may you be a guiding light for others, just as you were here on earth. Happy Birthday.

By the Light of the Moon

2009-03-09T21:51:00.001-06:00

It is one of the commonest of mistakes

to consider that

the limit of our power of perception

is also the limit of all there is to perceive.

~C.W. Leadbeater

Perception is a funny thing: Two or more people can view the exact same event and come away with a different understanding of their experience. Take moon-gazing, for instance.

One night, while living in Florida, two of my girlfriends came over for a bit of late-night-summer-screened-patio-dwelling. The moon was particularly bright and full, providing the perfect ambient lighting for our ladies' night outdoors. As we talked and laughed and sipped our wine, one of my friends noticed something peculiar--light radiated from the center of this luminous moon forming a symmetrical fixed cross.

We had been talking about everything from our personal lives to the war in the Middle East and the overall state of the world, but upon seeing this cross-of-light, my friend stopped mid-sentence and said, "It's a sign! I just know it's a sign. I can feel it! What do you think it means?"

Being equally fascinated by astronomy and astrology--and having earlier confirmed the planetary positions in the night sky--I philosophized that this brilliant fixed-cross-moon was an outward expression of the current astrological energy affecting the world at large.

Our other friend stared wistfully at the moon--her expression one of hope and inspiration--and simply said, "I believe it is God's way of telling us that no matter what's going on in the world, he loves us and everything is going to be okay."

There we were--three different women with very different explanations of our experience, but we all agreed on one thing: We were witnessing a most extraordinary moment in time. We sat in silence, each connecting with our perception, feeling somehow changed by this powerful experience.

But later, after one of the girls walked home to make sure that her son was preparing for bed, she phoned my house in a fluster. "Go outside," she said.

"I am outside. We're still on the patio."

"No," she said. "Open the screen door and step outside."

"Okay," I conceded, now standing barefoot in the wet grass. "What is it?"

"Now look at the moon," she said, with laughter bubbling up through her otherwise serious demeanor.

"Okay . . . I'm looking . . . What is it? Wait!" I stared, "The cross is gone! What happened to the cross?"

"Now go back inside and look at the moon again."

I did as she instructed, and immediately I saw the brilliant fixed-cross-of-light radiating from the moon's core. Then I understood.

This wasn't some rare astrological phenomenon, or a blessed sign from God. No, our fixed cross was, in fact, the result of viewing the moon through the tiny weave of the patio screen, an observation made by my friend's 11 year old son when she tried to share with him our mystical, magical moment. "Mom," he had huffed, rolling his eyes at her naivete; "Open the screen door!" Then he stormed off to his room mumbling, "Do I have to explain everything to you?"

We laughed until we cried.

But all laughter aside, this moon-gazing experience helped me to understand more clearly what psychologists have long recognized: that people do not view the world neutrally--we see it through the lens of our experiences, beliefs and expectations.

Just look at the way that my friends and I sat around discussing this fixed-cross-phenomenon, making all kinds of value judgments that clearly were not accurate. But the experience was very real to us. Even when my friend called and urged me to look at the moon again, I was reluctant to abandon my prior experience. Had I not been able to gain a new perspective--by looking at the moon without the filter of the patio screen--perhaps I would have continued to explain this "rare" event through the lens of my limited understanding, mistaking my perception for fact; something that our egos are keen to do.

And this made me think: What if we all walk around clinging to our limited perception as being the only truth there is? Consider the implications on our ability to create a peaceful world that works for everyone.

In the end, we know that things are not always as they seem. Making the most of our perceptions requires flexibility and an open mind; we must temporarily suspend all judgment and become receptive to the wealth of possibility that surrounds us. Remember, what is real and true for one may not be the experience of another. And while we lose nothing when we open ourselves up to consider another viewpoint, what we stand to gain is great indeed.

By Melissa Johnson

CHARITY SPOTLIGHT

2009-02-17T01:17:00.000-07:00

World Wildlife Fund

Did you know that in the last century three of the nine tiger species have become extinct, and that almost a quarter of the earth’s mammals face a high risk of extinction within the next 30 years?

These and other facts are made available to us through the research and outreach efforts of the World Wildlife Fund, a 501(c)(3) charitable organization serving environments and communities worldwide.

Since 1961, WWF has worked diligently to save endangered species—polar bears, pandas, tigers, and others—and to preserve the habitats these animals depend on for survival.

In addition to standard cash donations or estate gifting, what I love about WWF is their extraordinary species adoption program. For as little as $50, you can adopt an endangered animal—choosing from more than 90 species—and receive a soft, plush version of your adopted animal, together with an adoption certificate, photograph and fun-fact card about the species and their habitat. Aside from helping WWF with wildlife and environmental conservation, animal adoptions make wonderful gifts for children and adults alike.

To learn more about WWF and the animal adoption program, please visit their web site at http://www.worldwildlife.org/.

GREEN LIVING

2009-02-17T01:16:00.000-07:00

End Catalog Clutter!

Does your mailbox overflow with catalogs that you've neither ordered nor want to receive? Here's a quick way to eliminate waste and free your life from their endless clutter.

Simply log on to Catalog Choice (http://www.catalogchoice.org/) and set up your free account. In just a few short clicks--choosing from their alphabetical list--you can cancel all (or some) of these catalogs and never receive them again!

Only Love Remains

2009-02-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

For those who love... time is eternity...

Henry Van Dyke

About a year before my grandfather died, I had a fascinating dream.

He and my grandmother appeared to me as Native American elders, down by the creek in my backyard. They looked nothing like themselves—with long, graying braids and thick, wool blankets draped over their shoulders for warmth—but I knew it was them by the way they walked and talked together . . . I could feel the love between them.

We embraced and talked for a while, and as they turned to leave I said, “Grandma, Grandpa—please take me with you.”

“No, honey, it’s not time for you to go,” my grandfather said. “You have a lot of work to do.”

“But I want to go with you,” I said.

He smiled at me with so much love—I could feel it—then gently touching my cheek he said, “No. It’s not your time. You need to lay off the boys and finish writing that book. That’s your job right now.”

Grandma giggled at his warning.

“Tell me then,” I asked: “What’s the secret to the magic of your relationship? How do you still have so much love for each other after all these years?”

My grandfather looked at her, taking her hand in his, and said, “I have always carried great respect for your grandmother. That’s because she has always respected herself. No matter what happened, no matter what anyone ever said or did to her—or against her—she never let it change the way she viewed herself, her core values or her self-respect. Make sure you find a partner who loves and respects you; but remember, it starts with loving yourself.”

I watched as they walked away from me, hand-in-hand, talking and laughing, and I was filled with exquisite knowing—even in my dream state—that their souls would be together forever; their love was eternal.

I woke up crying.

For the rest of the day, I walked around in a haze. My heart understood the greater truth—the evolution of our souls through time—but I was sad and slightly confused. Was my dream a message of pending death? Had I actually had this conversation with them—soul to soul—somewhere in a parallel universe?

“Sure, kid—that’s me,” my grandfather laughed when I told him about the dream. Then, in his light-hearted way, he rattled off some historical facts about the Native American culture. But small talk aside, I knew in my heart that he wouldn’t be with us much longer.

Then, last summer, the messy truth of congestive heart failure ravaged his body and took with it his will to live. His had not been a protracted illness, thank goodness, but he was tired; ready to go. It was his time.

Forever the deep thinker—there in his hospice bed—he struggled to share with me one last bit of wisdom. “My sweet child,” he said, “Remember this: We come into this world with a framework for society . . . or at least we think we do . . . there’s the body and the soul . . . but only the soul lives forever.”

The next day he passed quietly, surrounded by his family. We hugged and cried. We ate casseroles and pies delivered by church ladies. We moved gently through funeral arrangements, wakes and eulogies. And we comforted each other with loving memories of our patriarch; a bitter-sweet mixture of joy and pain.

At times, it was hard to tell if my tears came from losing my grandfather, or if they flowed from a heart bursting with love.

For a short time after the funeral, I stayed with my grandmother in their family home. I watched her move from room-to-room, at times seeming lost; other times, finding moments of joy and laughter in the midst of her grief. Her strength inspired me.

After 60 years of life together, everything had changed. What was left of a life well-lived?

Only love remained.

When it comes to love, there’s always a risk—that we’ll get hurt, that we’ll be rejected, that our beloved will leave us behind. But the only way that any of us will ever fully open our hearts to the beauty of Life is by loving. It’s the energy that made us and, I believe, the only thing of value that we have to give.

This is the Law of Love.

Removing the Rust: Purification Made Simple

2009-02-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

Make Room for Something New

As we stand on the cusp of spring—poised to leave the heaviness of winter behind—I have been thinking a lot about growth, and the process by which we prepare ourselves for new life to enter.

The Native American people have long understood the importance of purification as a way of removing the “rust” that can accumulate within us as we move through life. Negative emotions like anger, resentment, hatred, jealousy, envy and greed are likely culprits. So, too, are the host of conflicts, misconceptions and opinions of others that we find ourselves entangled with or subjected to as part of our human condition.

The Ancestors believed that the process of cleansing could be gentle and healing if approached with reverence, and so developed the sacred Sweat Lodge. By joining together in ceremony, the Sweat Lodge gave participants the space to let go of all that wasn’t working in their lives, removing the impurities that had formed in the mind, body and spirit through sauna-like heat, sweat, song and prayer. They believed that purification was necessary for growth and forward movement, as the so-called “rust” tended to dull one’s inner light and keep her disconnected from her highest purpose in life.

Personal experience has taught me well: When we clear away what doesn’t work or support us, we make room for the good stuff to come in. This applies equally to attitudes, habits, patterns, beliefs, and our associations with certain people or things. We must monitor our lives and continue to purge that which doesn’t serve our highest good.

As with the Holy Eucharist, where members of the church eat bread and drink wine as symbols of “the body and blood of Christ,” purification ceremonies are symbolic expressions of our intention to walk consciously through life, with reverence for our Creator.

In my opinion, how you go about it isn’t nearly as important as your sincere desire and intent to do it. The key is to bring your awareness to the truth of what limits your forward movement, as you vow in earnest to deal with it, release it, and move on.

CEREMONIAL CLEANSING.

Here’s an idea for creating your own Sacred Sweat Lodge at home. There are many ways that you can prepare your space—light candles, burn sage or incense, put on soft, instrumental music to help with relaxation. Or you can skip all of that and go straight to the tea. Try this homemade recipe:

† Start with a mild spiced or herbal green tea (your choice)
† ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (per cup of tea)
† Fresh cloves (to taste)
† 1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
† Fresh lemon juice
† 1 teaspoon honey
† 1 shot of brandy or whiskey (per cup of tea) – optional

Directions: Bring water to a boil in a small saucepan; reduce heat to low / simmer. Add tea, cayenne pepper, cloves, cinnamon, fresh lemon juice and whiskey or brandy (alcohol is optional), and let steep for approximately 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Pour into mug and add 1 teaspoon of honey.

While your tea is brewing, pile on the clothes. Wrap yourself up like you’re going out to ski—minus the parka and skis, of course. I recommend thermal underwear, sweatpants, sweatshirts, extra thick, warm socks and perhaps a wooly cap on your head. Then gather 2-3 warm, snuggly blankets and set them aside until your ceremony begins.

With tea in hand, find a comfortable place to sit with good support for your back. Settle in, wrapping yourself in your pile of blankets, and drink your tea.

Neither chug it nor sip it too slowly, just drink your tea at a steady pace as you consider what you want to release from your life. It can be anything—a resentment, a bad habit, an old thought form that no longer serves you, a self-sabotaging pattern that you can’t seem to break—but the goal is awareness. Likewise, spend some time thinking about what you want to create or bring into your life. You might find it helpful to write down your thoughts, so keep a notebook handy.

When you’ve finished your tea, lay down or recline in a comfortable position—still wrapped in your pile of blankets—and focus your thoughts only on your cleansing. You should be sweating a little (or a lot) by now. That’s good. Visualize your blocks, resentments or negative emotions leaving your body in a trail of sweat. State your intentions as you clear away the old and welcome in the new. Give prayers of thanks.

Immediately after, take a shower and wash those clothes. Now you are ready to begin again.

And remember to check-in with yourself—again and again—as many times as it takes. Regular maintenance works best. In this way, ceremonial purification allows us to stay connected to our Creator, releasing what no longer serves us while making room for new life to enter. For I believe it is through our finely tuned connection with Spirit that we co-create our world.

Now let's get busy—we’ve got some cleansing to do.

How Does Your Garden Grow? A Guided Meditation for Creativity

2009-01-27T16:08:00.000-07:00

Since posting my last article (Distilling Your Essence: A 7-Step Program), I have received a number of e-mails from readers asking for help with meditation. So I share with you this meditation technique that I developed for working with my creativity.

MED-I-TA-TION [med-i-tey-shuh n]. Webster's Unabridged Dictionary defines it as "Close or continued thought; the turning or revolving of a subject in the mind; serious contemplation; reflection; musing."

When it comes to meditation, a lot of emphasis is placed on emptying the mind and finding that place of absolute stillness within. But my experience has been that a mind devoid of thought is daunting and mostly impossible.

Think about it: Even the thought of not having a thought is a thought.

Some people find it easy to connect with silence or to completely empty the mind. Ultimately, I believe it’s more important to allow yourself the time and space to connect consciously with your thoughts rather than avoid the process altogether.

In this approach, I have experienced great success.

THE EXERCISE: HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW? This meditation is a combination of contemplation and creative visualization. Here, you are asked to focus your thoughts for a specific purpose but hold them loosely enough to allow for the spontaneous expression of the subconscious mind, where your seeds of truth are often buried.

Our objectives are these: (1) contemplate a specific dream, desire or goal that you would like to achieve, (2) connect with your intuitive or subconscious self to understand what may be blocking the fulfillment of your desire, and (3) creatively transmute the poisons of negative thoughts into healthy growth.

I encourage you to read through all of the steps below before moving into the meditation. Just get a general idea for where this is going and then make it your own.

STEP 1: GET COMFORTABLE. Find a comfortable place to sit or recline. So much of the meditation instruction encourages practitioners to sit a certain way, hold our hands a certain way, touch our fingers together in a certain way, while doing a host of other things. My early days of meditation were frustrating and anything but enlightening. While for some, rules and a defined structure may be comforting, for me, I find that too many rules turn me off and take away from my experience.

So my only “rule” of meditation is this: Find what works for you and never give up.

As for me, I go into meditation almost always lying down, with my head on a pillow, arms and legs uncrossed, and covered with a warm, snuggly blanket. Gentle meditation while lying in bed just before going to sleep often will spark creative dreams that bring solutions to my most pressing dilemmas.

STEP 2: B-R-E-A-T-H-E. Now that you’re comfortable, focus on your breath. Most people find it challenging to focus on two things at once, but connecting with the breath is a great way to slow the mind chatter. Like Rain Man, I find it comforting to count, so mentally I count on the inhale and the exhale, which keeps me focused and grounded in my breath.

Spend a few minutes breathing.

STEP 3: FIND YOUR HAPPY PLACE. Imagine that you are sitting under your favorite tree. (I envision myself sitting under an ancient Blue Spruce tree in my backyard.) While comfortably seated on the ground, imagine that you grab a couple of the tree’s above-ground roots lying on either side of your hips and fasten them around you like a seat belt. The roots are important because they represent the core—or root—of your experience, and they serve as a conduit for removing the obstacles to your creativity.

Spend a few minutes breathing under your tree.

STEP 4: AWARENESS IS KEY. In this step, we move into contemplation mode. Consider questions such as:

• What is my dream, goal or objective? What is my creative purpose?
• What skills or qualities do I bring to my endeavor?
• What am I lacking? What do I need to do, be or overcome to fulfill my desire?

You can focus on any question for which you want clarification but, again, don’t over “think” it. Try to let your subconscious mind reveal the subtleties of your situation.

Sit with these thoughts for a while. Grab the kernels of truth in a, “Hmmm, this is interesting” sort of way. Don’t judge what comes up. And don’t forget to breathe!

STEP 5: DISTILL YOUR CREATIVE ESSENCE. Now it’s time to turn your lemons into lemonade. To “distill” something means that you are purifying it, taking the negative or contaminated parts and running them through a cleansing process. That’s essentially what we’re doing here in Step 5 as we move into creative visualization.

As you sit under your tree, grab those thoughts of lack or negativity that block your creative path and imagine that you are sending them, one by one, to the root that is fastened around your lap. Visualize the fears or blocks going through the root and into the ground, where they are planted as seeds that then sprout all around you as flowers—the flowers of your dreams. Don’t over think it. The goal is to relax your mind enough to allow for new and helpful information to present itself.

Look around at your new growth and see what’s there. Do you see a solution to your problem? Can you extract even one idea that will help you move forward? Are some of your dreams ready to harvest?

Spend some time in your new garden and make a mental note of anything that may help you move in the direction of your creative dreams. And b-r-e-a-t-h-e.

STEP 6: WINDING DOWN. Now we work in reverse. Start by giving thanks for your fully-functioning intuitive self and your creative nature. When you’re ready, unfasten your root-belt and disengage from your position of contemplation. Spend a few minutes counting your breath before slowly bringing yourself back to the present moment. Wiggle your fingers and toes. Stretch your arms and legs. Slowly move your head around and, when you’re ready, open your eyes . . . relaxed, present and ready to make your action plan.

STEP 7: DREAM CATCHER. Immediately following your meditation, before you get busy or distracted with the details of life (or before falling asleep), take 10 minutes to write down your impressions from your session. Like recording your nighttime dreams, the information you receive in meditation is most clear immediately upon waking.

Disclaimer: Remember, if you hear “voices” telling you to do things that you know are inappropriate, run, not walk, to your nearest psychotherapist’s office and do not attempt meditation again.

Distilling Your Essence: A 7-Step Program

2009-01-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

When asked where God is, people point towards the sky or some far distant region; no wonder then that He does not manifest Himself! Realize that He is in you, with you, behind you, and all around you; and he can be seen and felt everywhere.
~Sathya Sai Baba

My last article touched on our Creative Essence, reminding us that every living thing contains within it a bit of the Creative-I-Thought-of-Everything-Loving-Life-Force—or Source—from which it came. We need only to open our eyes and look around—or go within—to see evidence of our creative existence. It’s in our DNA.

This is good news! Made in this image--though on a lesser scale than our Creator--you can bet that something so intricately woven together as the human life carries with it what it needs to get along in the world. And that means a creative touch.

But how do we move from intellectualizing to connecting; from observing to being? With so much creative potential at our disposal, how do we distill our creative essence and bring forth our riches in the physical world?

Here are some ideas to get you started:

1. OPEN UP! The first step to create anything of value in life is to open yourself to its possibilities. This means not only making your connection a priority—carving out time and space to align with higher wisdom—but also opening your heart and mind with the curiosity of a child and a willingness to explore your true nature. Do you really believe that God is someone or something “up there,” separate from you? Be willing to challenge the accepted wisdom and find the truth that resonates with you. Your deep-rooted beliefs will shape your expectations of what's possible for your life. Count on it.

2. R-E-S-P-E-C-T . . . our girl Aretha sang it best. Start with yourself. Learn to appreciate all that you are, as you are. Get rid of the negative self-talk and loathing. If there’s something you don’t like about yourself—or some characteristic that holds you back from living your best life—and it’s within your power to change, then change it. Otherwise, find a way to let it go.

Can you imagine giving your beloved a gift and every time you turned around she trashed it? I think that's what it must be like for God when we disrespect ourselves and trash our gift of life.

When you have the ability to see yourself clearly, and love yourself enough to set healthy boundaries for your life, playing the role of victim doesn't work. With this awareness, you then become the kind of person who actually participates in the shaping of your life. There's no need to disparage yourself or gossip about others—all of that fades away—as you move from a path of negativity to one of goodness and light. There’s nothing closer to your Source than that!

3. CALL YOUR MOTHER! Mother Earth, that is. Go ahead kids . . . go outside. Get moving. Take a hike. Engage your body in its natural environment. Go to a park or sit by the water's edge. Sit on a rock and b-r-e-a-t-h-e! Pay attention to the beauty around you. Going green is not just about recycling and reducing your carbon footprint. It’s also about seeing the environment as a living organism--just like yourself. With that kind of connection, creativity naturally flows.

4. STOP. LOOK. LISTEN. Slow down, open your eyes and listen. The world is full of little angels and messengers from God who bring wisdom and inspiration. Like my cousin’s six year old daughter, who gently encouraged her mother during a fit of road rage to consider “what that person in the other car might be going through.” Get out of yourself and pay attention to other people. Be curious. Ask questions. You might learn a few things. The inspired mind is a playground for creativity.

5. MED-I-TA-TION [med-i-tey-shuh n]. I come from a long line of deep thinkers. For some it’s a blessing; for others, a curse. For me, it expresses itself as a tendency to spend incredible amounts of time mulling over the mysteries of life, asking “What does it all mean?” Meditation is my key. I’m not talking about a mind devoid of thought (although sometimes that's preferred). Here, I’m speaking of disciplined thought—the ability to engage in focused contemplation, usually on a spiritual or philosophical subject, that leads to a greater understanding of your life and the mysteries around you. Like anything, the ability to quiet your mind and engage in conscious reflection takes practice, but the rewards are great. Go deep.

6. PGS. [Prayers of Gratitude and Service]. If you have a roof over your head—give thanks. If you can get out of the bed in the morning and walk to the bathroom—waive your hands in the air! When you discover that your seeming “unanswered prayer” was, in fact, a blessing—shout out, “Hallelujah!” Make prayers of gratitude everyday—even for the small things—and then, armed with your many blessings, get out there and give back to the world. There's an energy in giving and there’s no better way to engage your Creative Essence than by loving your life and helping humanity through service to others. And when you give, your focus will shift from what you don't have to what you have to give. Remember, there’s always someone out there a little worse off than you.

7. CONNECT WITH J-O-Y! Ellen DeGeneres cracks me up. Every guest on her show is required to dance when they come onstage. She plays all kinds of crazy-disco-hip-hop-booty-shake music; you can’t help but smile just watching them. They’re smiling, too--even the stiffest of stiffs. And how can you not feel happy when you’re smiling? Smiles, like yawns, are contagious.

So whether it’s dancing, painting, playing with your children, traveling, making music, writing, having mind-blowing sex or working in the garden, connect with what brings your heart the greatest joy and make it a priority in your life! If you find it hard to experience happiness and joy--if your senses have been dulled by depression or years of repression--be patient with yourself. It may be a matter of rewiring the pleasure centers in your brain. This takes time, patience and repeated expressions of joy--but it can be done.

Choose to move through the world with a glad and cheerful heart—it will radiate to everyone around you. And that, my friends, is the essence of our Creative Source.

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If you have unique ideas or special ways that you connect with the Divine, I would love to hear from you. Please e-mail me at Melissa@AThousandHearts.com or send a comment to this post by clicking on the comment button below. Your idea or story may be included in my book.

Get to the Source

2009-01-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

Got milk? My sister does . . . in abundance these days . . . as she enters month two of the breast-feeding frenzy that has become her life.

Since giving birth to my niece in November, she has worked round the clock to keep her supply in check. When she’s not feeding she’s pumping and when she’s not pumping she’s feeding. And on a recent solo outing to the market, she learned the messy truth of her mammary glands—they respond to the cry of any baby, not just her own. Consider the implications.

Watching my sister move from pregnant wife to mother has been a gentle reminder of the truth of my own existence—a reminder that we carry with us all that we need for our journey through life.

I marvel at the process. There’s the act of procreation (S-E-X), which is an amazing gift to humans, intricate and fascinating in its own right, which results in the creation of this tiny little drop of fluid—the joining of sperm and egg—that contains within it everything this new life will be.

Beyond the decision to have sex and care for her unborn child, my sister had nothing to do with “making” her baby. She didn’t have to schedule time to create fingers and toes on day 10, lips on day 42 and hair in month six.

It was all taken care of from the moment of conception—height, metabolism and bone structure, the color of her eyes and hair, the blood coursing through her veins, the gifts and talents at her disposal, even her reason for being just waiting to be discovered in a moment of “Aha!”

Then, after that little bundle of joy came out, my sister’s body sort of went on auto-pilot. The girl who, once, could sleep through anything now wakes at the slightest sound. Not only does mother’s milk deliver to baby the sustenance she needs, produced on queue with a hungry cry, but breastfeeding serves another function—it helps mom lose the weight she gained during pregnancy. Bonus points!

It’s extraordinary, really. We’re all in a constant state of creation and movement. Every day, our bodies kill off old cells and make new ones. We breathe. Our hearts beat. We sleep and wake. We eat and drink and our bodies process it all—distributing nutrients where needed and eliminating the rest as waste—all through an intricate system of organs, tissues and cells that we have absolutely nothing to do with (not consciously, anyway).

Consider, too, our ability to think and reason, focus and build—to create something new from raw materials; our capacity to love and experience a whole range of emotions and desires; our ability to communicate with others and be inspired. And let’s not forget our internal guidance system (IGS), cleverly designed to help us navigate the physical world through intuition, higher consciousness and messages from the world of Spirit.

It’s not just we humans that won the lucky lottery of design. I see this intelligence displayed in every living thing around me. From our furry little dog friends who receive a second coat of hair in the winter to keep them warm . . . to the endangered lynx with the instinct to know when it’s time to climb to higher ground . . . to the peony bulb planted in my garden that grows beautiful new flowers year after year—even when they’ve spent the winter under a blanket of snow . . . and to the rising and setting sun, dancing in the sky with its opposite, the moon, never deviating from their course.

With such careful attention to detail, such brilliance behind all design, do we really think we’re beyond its perfect reach?

Remember: Every living thing contains within it a bit of the Source from which it came. You can move it, put it in different containers, and define it with labels—human, animal, flower, tree, water—but its essence remains the same: Creative Spirit, from which all possibilities flow. We are made in this image, they say. And it's up to us to distill our essence and bring forth the riches waiting to be expressed in the physical world.

True, we may not be able to create a new species of animal on demand . . . and we may not be born with every material advantage . . . or an automatic solution to every problem . . . and for anyone who has ever pursued a goal or dream or wanted something really, really badly, we know that it isn’t as simple as wishing it so.

But, technically, as humans we come equipped to handle whatever comes our way—to function in the world, get creative, invent things, solve problems, structure meaningful lives and make choices about how we want to experience our environment—all through these amazingly complex and beautiful bodies that, in many ways, take care of themselves.

Unlike our wildlife friends, however, we get trapped in our minds thinking we’re separate, trying to control it all and make it happen NOW; at times feeling blocked and victimized by our circumstances.

That’s precisely when we need to remember our creative blue print and reconnect with the Creative-I-Thought-of-Everything-Loving-Life Force—or Source—from which we came. It’s our birthright.

Life is the gift. What we make of it and how we use it—even in the face of tragedy and disappointment—is our choice and, I believe, the ultimate act of creation here on Earth.

Now, then, the question remains: What will be your legacy?