Wednesday, October 30, 2019


I have always been surrounded by the exact right mix of people to ensure that my spiritual emergence remains on schedule.

That has included people who have loved me as close to unconditionally as I believe is humanly possible. I can count those on one hand with fingers to spare.

It has also included people that I swore were sent to this planet just to work my last nerve. There have been a long and winding parade of those.

We are wounded in relationship and we heal in relationship.

Do not let the tidiness of that sentence fool you.

I deeply appreciate the fact that I now recognize the people that have populated my life as precious teachers in my own Soul curriculum. I am grateful to now know that whether these teachers seemed to be a blessing or rather they seemed to be a curse they were all teaching me lessons that I myself needed to learn.

Some of these teachers were wearing the very best of me. And some of these teachers were wearing the worst. When I began to realize that what I saw in them were things that I had disowned in me this life as a classroom became oh so much more precious. And peaceful. And empowering.

Prayer, meditation, Spiritual Principle, and service have always been easy for me. Human relationships: not so much. I am a classic introvert. I love people, I just usually prefer to not be around them.

And so, it has been in relating to others that my greatest challenges and most profound triumphs have occurred. I have done enough internal work in this area to be able to report this with no shame and little fear of judgmental or retaliating comments.

I have very few people that I consider friends. I have many acquaintances. I have a public form of service/vocation that includes being often surrounded by people. I place social media in what for me is a proper perspective. I do not confuse it with intimacy or friendship.

That does not mean there are not teachers there. They are everywhere. In the acquaintances. In the congregation. In the grocery, restaurant, deli, and theater. On social media and in sales calls.

What makes all these teachers so precious and valuable is not how they show up in our relating. What matters most is how I relate to them in their way of relating to me. What lessons I may glean when I see them as the wondrous teachers they truly are. How I relate, regulate, and choose to respond.

If I choose to make them villains, I fail the test of our relating and the next version of them is surely on the way. If I believe that their affirmative way of treating me somehow makes me better and more, I become dependent on that treatment and it strains the relationship and will likely ensure a fall.

I have learned that the right way of relating for me is to see all beings as equal Divine expressions here to unfold our highest and best via how we show up in relationship. One to another. Struggle, strain, and all.

Some of those beings will love me. And some of them will not. Properly and spiritually framed it is most accurate to say that some of those people will remember that they love me, and some will not. And it is the same for me. We are all beings of Love here to remember that it is already the case. And that plays out in relationship.

So I have always had the exact right mix of people to ensure my spiritual emergence is on schedule. And you, dear reader, are a part of that.

And what am I here to teach you?

Thursday, October 24, 2019


I have the right to be wrong.

There are moments when Life lands in me like a sonic boom of awareness. Such was a moment this morning when intellectual knowledge became felt experience.

I have the right to be wrong.

Being wrong is my right by virtue of my humanity. Humans are by nature imperfect and fallible. We all make mistakes. We all stumble and fall. Sometimes when we fall, we take others with us. We are unskillful and sometimes unconsciousness. The friendlier we are with that fact the less our imperfection will kidnap us. The friendlier we are with that fact the less we will lead with pretense. The less we lead with pretense the less likely we are to react in defense.

Having the right to be wrong does not mean we do not seek to be better. In fact, the right to be wrong is a perfect context for betterment and transformation. It is also the perfect platform for being merciful to others. It is a perfect container for compassion. In this regard perfection is perfected in imperfection. The more I can allow and embrace my own unskillfulness the more I can allow and embrace yours.

I suspect that what landed so soundly for me this morning is the fact that I have for decades sought to allow for others “wrongness.” I have imperfectly yet consistently chosen to always seek to forgive when others have wronged or hurt me. At a level I think I took on too much of others unresolved emotion. I made it about me. When I have asked for forgiveness and was denied it I felt even worse about my unfortunate relating. I have always held myself to a higher standard than I have held others. I have persistently given others the right to be wrong. Imperfectly, but consistently.

I have not consistently shown myself the same mercy.

So today I make amends to my oh-so imperfect self. I give myself the right to be wrong. I grant myself permission to sometimes screw up. When I do, I will forgive myself first and foremost. I will also apologize, ask for forgiveness, and amend my wrongdoings. If I am forgiven, great. If I am not, I will not make that about me.

I will not make others unforgiveness about me.

Only a false god withholds forgiveness.

I have long known of my imperfection. I have been painfully aware of my wrongs. Today I feel as if I have been granted a bit more spaciousness to move around in. A bit purer acceptance of my own fallibility. More breathing space. Less pressure. This gives me more room to come from that kind of atmosphere when others deal unskillfully with me. It gives me more freedom to disidentify when others hold me in contempt.

I have the right to be wrong. And so do you.

And the right to be wrong feels so very right.

Thursday, October 10, 2019


Someone recently felt compelled to share with me that there is a less than flattering story about me being told.

Is that so?

There was a time in my life when that news would have shattered me. I would have stewed in the news, scripting for myself what people must be saying about me. That scripting would have led me to expanding levels of emotional disturbance, distorting my view of myself and those who are reportingly telling the tale. The dynamic of the disturbance and distortion would have been a quicksand that would have sucked me down into myself. There I would have suffered, plotting my retaliation, no matter how subtle it might have to be. I would, after all, still need to appear spiritual even as I was carrying out my revenge.

And then, as today, I would not know whether the reported storytelling was even really happening.

I have never felt freer internally in my entire life. I have never known myself better or been more accepting with that knowledge. I know and I embrace my imperfection. I have no need to pretend that I am perfect, or to demand perfection from other people. I make plenty of mistakes. I inadvertently hurt people, which causes me great pain. When I do, I apologize, make amends, and vow to do better. That is my part, and how others respond to my amends is none of my business. This process keeps me clear in here, which is all I am responsible for and to.

So, if less than flattering stories are being told about me, they might very well be true. Afterall, my imperfection presents itself every single day. They also may not be true at all. At which point there is nothing I can do about a shared untruth. I am very clear that fabricated stories do nothing to change me. I am equally true that spreading untrue stories does much to change or at least reveal the nature of the teller. Again; there is nothing I can do to change that.

So being free with my own imperfection liberates me from allowing my identity to be altered by unflattering stories. It also allows me to be unaltered by flattering stories.

Speak ill of me.

Is that so?

Speak well of me.

Is that so?

Equanimity is far more precious to me than your opinion.

Equanimity is far more precious to me than my opinion.

So, if there are indeed unflattering stories being told about me, I am grateful.

No, that is not avoidance or denial.

I am grateful to have the opportunity to decide how I process that possibility within myself. I get to feel the energy associated with that news and decide how I will respond. I get to watch the hurt, anger, impulse to defend and not take any action from it. I get to be even clearer in my sense of self. And I get to be even stronger with what I allow to define me.

There may be a few who read this and begin to weave a web about what the unflattering stories are and who may be telling them.

Is that so?

The better I know the fullness of what and who I am the less I am battered about by the stories of others. And the less I am battered about by the stories of others the less time I spend stewing in suffering.

So, instead of suffering I put my expanding liberation into words and share them with you. Without the possibility of unflattering stories being told this would never have been written.

And that is so.

Thursday, October 3, 2019


The older I get and the longer I am treading a conscious spiritual path the more the old adage “talk is cheap” means to me.

It is common for we spiritual types to talk a lot about what we want to be true. We often convince ourselves that what we want to be true is in fact, true.

That does not mean, however, that it is.

Spiritual Truth is beyond what can be thought or talked about. Language is, however, what we have to work with. A big part of our evolution is hearing what seem to be new ideas. I say “seem to be new ideas” because wisdom and Knowing are already within us, just waiting to be awakened. So, we hear ideas that spark a memory and resonate within our beings. We begin to think and talk about these ideas. We parrot these ideas to others, and often pretend that they are true for us. Life will always show us where these concepts are in fact not true, which is a huge and important part of our integration. This for me was as shocking as it was humiliating. I would say I believed one thing, and then when I didn’t get my way or someone crossed me I would inadvertently reveal how in fact that belief was not an integrated reality.

In the words of a well-known televangelist, “ouch, hallelujah!” “br>
So talking about truth isn’t the same as living truth.

And so talk is cheap.

One of the most influential people in my life experience was my great-grandfather Charles. I adore that man to this day, though he passed away when I was fifteen.

Grandpa was by his own definition a man of his word. He died without understanding the need for written contracts or agreements. If he gave his word his word was law. I never knew him to ever violate or not come through with something he had said. Two of his sons, my grandfather included, never lived this way. Their word meant very little to them or to others. This never disturbed Grandpa Charles. It was his word and his agreements that mattered.

To Grandpa talk was not cheap.

I aspire to be like my great grandpa. I focus daily in letting truth be true in me. I ask to be shown where ideals are not yet integrated. Where concepts are yet to be embodied. I pray to relate consciously in and as Truth. I let my past humiliations continue to humble me. I am more and more committed to be the Word.

Though I am by vocation a wordsmith, I am tired of just talking about spiritual ideals. I am passionate about living them. I sense that perhaps in the not-to-distant future I will stop all this talking and become still and vibrant with what I am knowing to be true. I want to speak less in order to say more. I am becoming a man of my word, and so there is less to say.

Afterall: talk is cheap.

And truth is invaluable.