Tuesday, January 31, 2012


I find it curious that there are two star-studded movies being released this month that center on the age-old story of Snow White. The movie trailers I have seen present remarkably different takes on the Grimm’s Brothers classic, but each contain an Oscar Award winning actress not in the role of Snow White, but in the role of the Wicked Queen. I have really always thought it was her story anyway. While Snow White is certainly integral to the drama and is the namesake and heroine for which everyone roots and cheers, it is the neurosis, projections, and evil-motivated actions of the Queen that actually animate the tale. No story in any form of entertainment is worth telling without a healthy dose of conflict, and the Queen provides this brilliantly. As I’m sure you recall it is the Queen’s inquiry into the magic mirror that is the beginning of all the drama. Well, more accurately, it is the answer of the mirror to the Queen that causes all fury to break loose from her fragmented psyche. If the magic mirror had just continued on with a peace-promoting yet deceitful answer of “You are” to the Queen’s ongoing question of “who is the fairest in all the land?” it would have saved Snow White and many other characters a whole lot of trouble. When the Queen no longer hears what she wants and so needs to hear, she seeks to destroy the far younger and more beautiful interloper that she perceives has stolen her rightful title. When what is true is not only reflected but proclaimed by the uncompromising and ruthlessly honest mirror, that truth is too much for her to bear.

There is no better learning device for me in my psycho-spiritual tool chest than the always unfailing mirror of my relationships. It is an inescapable and non-negotiable axiom for me that whenever I am disturbed or distressed by something I am seeing in another it is because they are mirroring something that I have been unable or unwilling to see in myself. There is always an aspect of the ego mind that is asking for life’s assent that we are in fact the very fairest of them all, although we often unconsciously suspect that we are most certainly not. There is a part of our fragile selves that needs to feel that it is right regardless of evidence that is so often to the contrary. Projections are a gift that allows us to see what is in our own suppressed storehouse of disowned personal attributes. The pain, darkness, shame, and seeming evil are cast away as things that are happening out there by a supposed them. It is a survival structure that actually serves us until we are strong enough to look squarely into the mirror of our own consciousness and allow ourselves to really see what is there, without projecting it out onto an often unsuspecting world of supporting characters.

One of the foundational truths of projection is that we are all wounded in relationship and we will ultimately heal in relationship. This is rarely a tidy proposition. It requires that we see all the aspects of ourselves that we have avoided for most of our entire lives. We may well have the experience of the Evil Queen when the sight of a perceived “better” will have us looking for the flaw that brings them back down to size, a size that usage our sense of wounded inferiority. We will send out bitter thoughts that seek the heart of that blasted and beautiful maiden, when we perceive she is getting what we so long to have for ourselves. We will have the very human experience of secretly being glad that we are spiritually or morally or intellectually above poor so-in-so in those sad and unfortunate circumstances. We will project our suppressed stuff onto family, lovers, politicians, and the mail carrier. We will search and ask and manipulate and cajole that darn mirror in every which way we can to try and find that we are the one that is the fairest and is right.

And then one day we awaken to find that the mirror is indeed magical after all. It has always been reflecting exactly what we were able to see at any given time along the way. The mirror has become slowly and steadily more honest and revealing as our consciousness became more receptive and ready to see what the mirror of relationship was really showing us. And we recognize that every Evil Queen and fair maiden along the way have been aspects of the totality of our own fragmented self that was in search of integration and authenticity in this transformative realm of mirroring relationship. We can choose to break or cover the mirrors, but the refection will eventually come through via another character in a different storyline. We can shriek and rail about what we see or we can open to know at depth that the revelation of what we see is in service of our highest emergence. And when we can authentically thank the mirror for showing us what we needed to see a peace will fill our hearts that is indeed a most happy ending to a most painful yet meaningful tale.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


So I am sitting at my computer less than three hours after my father-in-law took the final breath of an almost ninety-four year incarnation. The sadness is still somewhat vague as the full impact of his passing has not yet landed. As I write these words it occurs to me that I get to legally and literally call him my father-in-law as his now lifeless body is in Massachusetts, a state where the lifetime commitment of man to man is recognized as an equally valid marriage. I do not enjoy that privilege in this state and in my community where I reside, pay taxes, and offer civic service. I have little need of lamentation this day about that fact. For I realize in this day of transition and subsequent sadness that those who can and do deny me the equal rights of other Americans cannot take away the familial bond of deep connection with the man who sired the man I am choosing to share my life with. Legislation can never rob me of the beautiful memories I will forever have of our times together in person and on the phone. No one can take away the jovial tone in his voice as he chose to call me son. No one can make love illegal, no matter how hard they try.

My father-in-law was for all appearances a man who would never tolerate the notion of homosexuality or same sex marriage, especially if it applied to someone in his own home or family. It was not religiously, morally, politically, or socially something that he would have included in his sphere. He would have for perhaps most of his life been on the side of constitutional amendments prohibiting the legalization of marriage between man and man or woman with woman. And then, very late in his life, along came the impending marriage of his son to a person of the same gender. A son that had struggled for years with his own issues of internalized homophobia, and bore the added burden of so wanting the acceptance of the Dad he so long ago distanced himself from. As we considered marrying in a different town which would not bring embarrassment to this well known small town man, he not only endorsed our marrying in the family home town, but also announced that he would be attending the wedding! And front and center he was. Out in the very public space of the town commons we said our I do’s in front of the Dad who with open arms and heart lovingly embraced his “sons.” Political ideologies melted away as the family expanded to include the very grateful me.

And now his body is gone from this earth, yet his enigmatic memory goes on. His recent final words of “love you son” still ring in my heart, a song I know I will always be able to hear. And for all of the political debate and controversy over whether or not who I am and whom I love should be legalized or not, they can never take away my memory of the father-in-law I grew to love. Love cannot be legislated, and it cannot be made less by little minds and censored hearts. The power of love moved this man from the far-right to right between the men, and in doing so, he created a space for others to follow. Love is love, and I know he loved me and I certainly know I love him.

And so I say goodbye, and thanks. Thanks for opening to include me and for always calling me son. No, no; they can’t take that away from me.

Thursday, January 12, 2012


I have been afraid of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. for most of my life. And it all started with Jesus.

One of if not the first time that my parents ever let me stay alone at home while they were gone was on an April evening in 1968. My little sister was in bed, and I felt so very grown up as I watched television in the living room of our quaint little ranch house in suburban Columbus Ohio. I sat in my fathers’ favorite chair as for this evening I was the one in charge. As I continued to watch TV and to contemplate having a usually forbidden late evening snack regular programming was interrupted by a news bulletin announcing the assassination of a minister-Civil Rights leader earlier that evening on the balcony of a motel in Memphis, Tennessee. The name was recognizable to me, though only through contracted reactions to the work the man was doing on behalf of the people my family seemed intent on avoiding. He was a trouble making preacher, and even his murder was evoking violence and rioting not long after the announcement of his death.

I began to sink lower into my fathers’ chair, and the moments ago celebration of sudden independence gave way to a nagging anticipation of hearing my parents’ car arriving back into the carport of our home. I purposefully angled the swivel chair so that I could not be seen from the decorative window in our living-room located front door. In my nine year old mind the rioting throngs were soon to be upon our porch. Reports of violence were spreading beyond the confines of Memphis, and I was just sure Columbus was going to be next. Though my parents carefully located our family several miles from “them,” I reasoned that the separation would make us even more of a target. The repeated photos of the slain leader imprinted within my emotional body a wounding that would take years of conscious exploration to fully recognize. Even after I had come to greatly appreciate and even emulate the vast contributions of this masterful man, photographs of him invoked a subtle yet palpable ripple of fear throughout my body. Even while actively marching in MLK walks and peaceful civil rights demonstrations, I found myself averting my eyes from pictures and graphic representations of him.

Beyond the race related implications this experience would come to teach me, there is perhaps a greater lesson that is even now becoming clearer as I work toward another Rev. Dr. King observance. The unconscious lesson I received on that fateful April evening was that if you have a dream and work relentlessly toward the actualization of it you well might be killed. And this is where the example of Jesus comes in. I learned from an even earlier age than nine that kind, compassionate, loving, perfect people who take an unconditional stand as an exemplification of Source are murdered in the name of the very Source they chose to serve. Though a twist of theology seeks to justify this cruel and vicious act in a rendering of “God’s will for humanity,” the unconscious message is not averted. Take an uncompromising stand for Truth and universal justice and someone is likely to take your life.

I have always been drawn to radicals within this world, and it has historically been radicals that moved the race consciousness forward. Jesus was certainly a clear example of this. Rev. Dr. King is a superlative representative of this dynamic. So were Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, Robert Kennedy, Harvey Milk, Yitzhak Rabin, and Benazir Bhutto. They are just a few of the strong and courageous men and women who took a stand for Truth and were martyred for it. They each had a dream of a better world for all and paid the ultimate price for the actualization of that dream. The subliminal message is clear: to follow the living example is to risk the same uncomely demise. We are even now witnessing the daily character assassination of a modern day prophet who dared to promise the masses that change would come to America, and yes we can.

Though perhaps none of us in this readership will be called to make the kind of demonstration the afore mentioned way showers were driven to make, I wonder how many risks I have failed to take because of an unconscious fear of meeting the same fate as these seeming fearless hero’s? How many times have I remained silent when everything in my being wanted to take a stand for Truth? How many opportunities have I let pass by when mine could have been the voice that made a difference in an ego-mired circumstance? When and where have I fearfully played small when deep within my gut I knew it was my time to stand tall?

I embrace these profound and confrontational questions as I recommit to making my dream of a world that works for all a living reality. I am facing the vestiges of my fear, and I am motivated by my love. Mine may not be the legacy of one of these masters, but their message is alive and thriving in me. They are no longer here. But I am. And I dare to have a dream. I dare to live a dream. I dare to embody a dream. I dare to dare. That little scared boy in Daddy’s chair has grown up now to take a stand. And take a stand I am.


Tuesday, January 3, 2012


And so we have finally crossed the threshold of the calendar year 2012, a time shrouded with predictions and prophesies that could well result in the ending of the whole human show of shows.

Really? So why do I feel so absolutely ablaze with possibility? Why is my level of internal enthusiasm amped up beyond any other New Year in memory? Why is the vibrancy of my being telling me that this is the year to move beyond past limitations and into a level of passionate expression that exceeds any other time of my incarnation? I can practically feel my probability factor expanding with each conscious breath I take, and the invitation to say yes to the deepest call of my Soul is beyond what I could ever resist.

Much has been made of the so-called Mayan prophesy that in some interpretations calls for an end to the world effective 12.21.12. Though this is a complete misunderstanding of what the Mayan teachings are actually telling us, there is in fact a measurable energetic dynamic that extends out from the collective belief in the predictions that we make and in the prophesies that we believe. While there is nowhere near a global critical mass inertia that could result in a catastrophic late December event, it does point me toward an increased awareness in the power of our beliefs, predictions, and prophesies. What do I really believe is possible for me during this next year of my human duration? What unconscious programs and perceptual conditions are setting predictable results in terms of how or if I actualize my dreams, desires, and intentions? What prophesies am I proclaiming based on the habitual thoughts I entertain, the emotions I identify with, and the stories and tales I tell about myself and about my world?

The persistent thoughts, feelings, and words you are engaging today ARE the prophesies of your tomorrows. We have been granted the exquisite gift of self-determination while here in this human state. We evolve from Soulful emergence to human expansion in a continuing and upward spiral of awakening choice and increasingly inclusive love. At the micro-level we prophesy the quality of our days before our feet even hit the floor in the morning. We each have an expectation of how our current lives shall be based on the overall quality of our past. Until we awaken to the perceptual dynamic the past continues to get projected into the future with nary a glance at the perfect present moment we are already in. When we are wakefully poised in the powerful present moment we have the capacity to prophesy via our inspired intentions what kind of moments and days we will inhabit. We can predict based on faith that our lives will unfold perfectly in a way that is best suited for our maximal spiritual evolution. We can declare that all things work for our advantage in a Universe that is always tending toward our deepest and our highest good. We can proclaim that only Truth is Truth, and that Truth is the Law unto our being. We can prophesy with unfailing accuracy that this will be the very best year of our lives, and then follow the flow of that prophesy unfurling before us in peaceful and perfect guidance. Whatever happens we will know that the Source of all creation is the sustaining Force of our lives and of our world.

So while many will focus this year on the Mayan Prophesy, I am setting my attention on My I Am Prophesy. I am allowing the Infinite Possibility of which I am a part to infiltrate my mind and open wide my heart. I am paying intimate attention to what I am predicting, and I am tapping into the expansiveness of my Soul to proclaim a prophesy that is based on the truest and most authentic part of Who I Am. I am predicting that this is going to be a miraculous year filled with loving connection, passionate expression and service, vibrant health, increased prosperity, and ever-increasing awakened awareness. If 2012 is indeed the end of an age it is the end of my playing small and telling tales that are less than what I am truly here to proclaim. It is My I Am Prophesy that this is the greatest time of my life, and I am celebrating each and every moment of this magical mystical year.