Wednesday, November 8, 2023


“Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose.”

I used to hate that quote.

It is actually a lyric from a song made popular by the late Janis Joplin. The sentiment activated all sorts of internal arguments for me until I grew into knowing how true it really is. I guess earlier in life I had not yet endured enough loss to understand what composer Kris Kristofferson was saying.

Now I have and so I do.

I began to experience deep losses early in my lifetime. From my current perspective I see them as evidence of an archetypal pattern that while extremely painful were also profoundly revelatory. When I became mature enough to consciously use the losses as fodder for growth and evolution the losses no longer used me.

My earlier belief was that every loss was about me. Someone died, leaving me. Someone put me out of their direct sphere, rejecting me. Opportunities were lost, robbing me of success and fulfillment.

Me. Me. Me.

The obvious common denominator in all my life losses was me.

Then one day I awakened to the deeper reality that while it was me that was experiencing the many incidents of loss the common denominator was loss itself and not me.

Holy Janis Joplin.

While this may not land for most readers, I pray that it will take root in at least one of you.

Loss happens. It happens for all of us. Life contains dynamics of both loss and gain. At the broadest level it is not personal. People do not die leaving me. People reject for all sorts of perceptual reasons. Ultimately it has little to nothing to do with me. Opportunities come and go, as do successes and modes of fulfillment. I may be a participant for sure. But opportunities, successes, fulfillment are bigger than me.

The recognition of the above is a perhaps narrow yet open door to freedom.

Freedom from the tyranny of me.

My life experience has been punctuated by a myriad of losses. Those losses were and some remain very painful. While I continued to take them personally, they led to great persistent suffering. Life was somehow tormenting me. Losses were being hurled at me. Love was being torn from me. You and countless others were leaving me.

Me. Me. Me.

I do not minimize the depth of pain that loss has held for me. I simply have learned to hold it differently, more consciously. I have learned to understand that all of us have, are, and will experience multiple losses during the duration of our lifetime. Though they are experienced by our personhood they are not personal. Life takes nothing from me. Regardless of what others may do I am always at choice as to how I interpret their actions. I am always at choice as to whether I take things personally or from a more wakeful, impersonal perspective.

Hence, my friends: freedom.

I have reached a point in this human adventure where I know that there is nothing left that I can lose that I cannot choose a conscious, impersonal relationship to.

Yes, there will be pain.

Yes, I will experience it at a personal level, even as I allow the impersonal to govern my responsiveness. And responsiveness is always rooted in freedom. Key to that freedom is not making losses about me.

“Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose.”

I used to hate that quote.

Now I love it.

I love it because I know a felt experience of it.

The past decade has been particularly filled with losses. Deaths of many kinds. People leaving in droves, for many reasons known and unknown. As the spouse of someone leaving incrementally on a daily basis, I am up close and personal with loss.

I am up close and personal with loss, yet I am not mired in taking it personally. That realization is how I cut my losses. How I stop the hemorrhaging of me interpretations. How I silence the wailing of why this is happening to me.

It isn’t.

All this loss is not about me.

It is happening within me, yet not to me. Not personally. I am not being tormented by a punitive life, even when I am left by punitive people.

Freedom. Nothing left to lose. Cutting my losses. Choosing my relating.

Loss will continue to visit my experience, and my freedom is the fortitude that loss itself has taught me to utilize in my relating.

And the one thing I can never lose is my sense of self that rises above the fragile me.

Saturday, June 17, 2023



I smile now as I recall the near despair of being asked once again to sing that song at a wedding.

I spent several years of my youth as a freelance wedding singer. I do not know how many nuptials I supplied the soundtrack for, but it was a lot. Some of the people I knew. Many I did not. I mostly enjoyed the experience, and it helped me build a college fund that as a son of a sole-supporting mother I needed.

This was during the early 1970’s until about the mid-1980’s. Songs came in and out of wedding vogue, but a couple endured that entire period. One was “The Wedding Song.” This was for me one of the most monotonous songs ever written. No matter how much I tried to sing some life into it, it always felt flat. I surmised in my teen years that if marriage was anything like this song, I wanted no part in it.

The second most requested song of this time was “Color My World.” It was recorded and became a huge hit for the band Chicago. I truly did love and enjoy performing this song. At least for the first fifty or sixty times. In the later years when someone would call and request my services for their wedding, I would hold my breath when I asked what song or songs they wanted me to sing. I eventually ceased lending my voice to these sacred events because I just could not sing The Wedding Song or Color My World one more time.

Not one more time.

I share this somewhat silly recollection because I recently heard Color My World in a waiting room of a medical establishment. I had not heard it in quite literally decades. I felt a mix of remembered dread yet also sweet nostalgia. As I was in a somewhat anticipatory state awaiting a medical diagnostic procedure part of the lyric touched me in ways that I had not experienced them before.

As I waited and as I listened to the lyric, I felt an expanded awareness around how I am always coloring my experience of my own internal world. It may seem as if the external world of circumstance is what is creating our moment-to-moment experience. We are so often caught in the illusion of out-to-in relating. We confuse cause and effect, and we suffer from this illusion.

The truth is that it is our interpretation and narrative about our circumstances that is always coloring our world. It is awareness of this fact that is our key awakening regarding how we get what we get. It is quite simple. It is a matter of staying vitally aware and interested in the dynamics of our embodied aliveness. We are each energy fields and that energy is always moved by the narrative and meaning that we are applying. In consciousness, commentary is everything.

It is because we say it is.


Our commentary is largely what is coloring our world.

As a former wedding singer, I know that marriages come and go. Marriages begin and end. A marriage is radically different from a wedding. No matter how beautifully I may have sung the songs it did not ensure the quality or the duration of the marriage.

There is one marriage, however, that can never be put asunder. And that is the union of will and word. Commentary and color. Narrative and effect. Story and suffering.

Life is a cosmic orchestration, and we are always composing our score. This does not suggest that we can control circumstances. Far from it. It does mean that we may choose how we name, frame, and claim our experiences. We can color inside or outside the perceived lines. We can use primary or pastels. We can paint boldly or softly. Each day is a masterwork that is open to our own interpretation.

I will never sing at another wedding. There will not be another variation of The Wedding Song or Color My World coming from these lips. No.

Yet I have never been clearer that I am always coloring my world. My experiences are up to me. It is my commentary that creates my context. If I want my world to change it is up to me to change my wording. To alter my narrative. To own the art of conscious story telling.

And to take that lyric one step further I am choosing to color my world with love. To tell love stories and to emit love energy. To love my often-feeble, fragile little storyteller. To love my past and to love what is seeking to be as me. To love being love in this often-loveless world.

We can never divorce the power to co-create our own experiences. It is intrinsic in our Sourced nature. Not only can you color your own world, in fact you must. You are and you always have been. Life is a palette, and you are the artist. Color consciously. Color intentionally. Color passionately, vibrantly. Color with courage and boldness. It is your world. Your commentary. Your part is to color.

And for the sake of all, color your world with love.

Tuesday, June 6, 2023


The truth of the matter is, that well worn section of traditional wedding vows was not a part of ours.

And while it was not vowed it has certainly been true.

On June 7th, 2010, I did something I never dreamed I would be legally allowed to do.

I got married.

Now, at the time I had to go to Massachusetts to do so, but I legally married a man as unlikely a choice as was the likelihood of being able to do so. We legally wed in the pergola at the center of the small town that my husband grew up in. His elderly father and several members of his family looked on as a justice of the peace officiated our simple ceremony. We had added a space to speak our own vows to each other, but the officiant forgot so we were hitched without those. The next month we had a larger though not legal spiritual ceremony in our home state of Florida. We were able to speak our vows to each other at that observance. It remains the most memorable part of our service for me. It was not legally binding. But it was beautiful and meaningful and witnessed by many of our closest friends.

And we did not vow “for better or for worse.”

As I type this missive the day prior to our thirteenth anniversary I reflect upon the years and experiences we have faced together. There have been wonderful times for sure. There have been several profound changes and challenges. There have been better times, and there have been times that seemed to be for worse. Losses. Life threatening illnesses. Career changes and endings and new beginnings. The best of both of us has been called forth. And truth be told, so has the worst. As strained as we have felt at times there has never been a moment that we questioned the continuation of our union.

While we did not speak the other oft repeated vow “till death do us part” has never been in question.

Donald has been for me a clear and vital part of my spiritual unfolding. I knew from the beginning that it was a sacred appointment. I guess all our connections are. Yet there are some that are clearly part of our Souls emergence. A coming together for the purpose of pattern resolution and alchemical growth. There are people we meet that we deeply know will lead us to an advancement of our earth curriculum.

Donald has and continues to be that for me.

And now, as many of my readers know, we face together the neurological disorder that is happening in Donald’s brain and most certainly in my heart. As the condition worsens, I am called to become better at how I manage our lives, and everything related to being a fulltime caregiver. While I had no inkling in that Massachusetts pergola that this would be our future here it is. That was our wedding, and this is our marriage.

I did not consciously choose this. Yet now I find myself choosing how to deal with it on a daily and even momently basis. I choose to become better at how I respond and how I relate. I choose to forgive myself when I am thrown into reaction, and skillful relating seems unavailable. I choose to stay true to the wholeness of me, that I may be true to the wholeness of my husband.

And he is still my husband. I love him as he was. And I love him as he is.

There are ways in which he is not the man that I married. Yet I also know that the same is true for him. I am not the same. Illness, loss, and circumstance have changed me. Not that I am worse. I do not frame the changes in that way. Nor do I frame the changes in Donald as a worsening of who he is. The same kind, gentle, sensitive man is here with me. His physicality is greatly affected for sure. There is cognitive decline. But there is also that smile. The occasionally witty retort. The adoring gazes. Even the rascal-like innuendos. All beautiful constancies of the man to whom I said I do. And to who I will always say I do.

Candidly I have some ugly moments these days. And some kind and skillful ones as well. I am better and stronger spiritually than ever before. Though it seems illogical somehow worsening times have always made me better. More compassionate. Merciful. Spacious. Fortuitous. These thirteen years have made me a better man. Even though in ways I am facing the worst of times.

So, we did not say “for better or for worse” on that wedding day thirteen years ago.

Nor did we say, “till death do us part.”

And yet both are true in vital, practical ways. My marriage is a high spiritual practice. It is a workshop in loving more and judging less. It is a PhD in how to be better in the worst of times. It is a gymnasium in self-care so that I may better care for him.

For better or for worse, Donald. Until death do we part.

Happy Anniversary, my love. I am more because we are.

I do. And I always will.

Wednesday, March 8, 2023


“That’s just your perception.”

Dismissal landing.


Well, yeah.

Connection interrupted.

I had shared something from a deeper part of me when the above retort was delivered in reaction. I use the word reaction purposefully as it did not feel like a response. It felt as if the person with whom I was sharing could not or chose not to find an internal place that would open to fully receive what I was sharing.

Perhaps they could not access a file into which they could place my communication. Perhaps it was too tender a piece of my heart to deal with in that moment. Perhaps it was too dissonant with their own perceptual network. Whatever the reason it was dismissed with the wave of a psycho-spiritual truism.

“That’s just your perception.”

It dismissed what I had shared. It distanced communicator and receiver. And it discounted me and my current experience. The connection was severed, at least in that moment.

Now let me be clear that it indeed is always my perception that I am dealing with and seeing through. Everything is received and processed from the level of perception. The dynamic relationship between perception and projection is a vital part of awakening consciousness. Awakening does not involve ridding us of perception. Awakening involves knowing what our perceptual system is, and how we are applying it in any given moment. That is what frees us from projecting out our disowned perceptions, which is a sure way to block healing and strain relations.

As we honestly share our perceptions in a safe and compassionate space, we begin to create more and more space between perception and the witness of perceptions. We give voice to them as a way of confessing what we are experiencing. How they are received and listened to is crucial to the healing process. Dismissing, discounting, distancing never has a healing affect. Neither do psycho-spiritual truisms. Listening from a space that recognizes and embraces perception as an evolutionary dynamic engages both communicator and listener in a holy space of union and transformation.

I write this not to judge, criticize, or condemn the deliverer of the admonition.

I write this in gratitude that my awareness and dedication to full and present attention and listening has been made deeper as a result of the interaction. I am more committed than ever to knowing that everything that anyone shares with me is indeed that person’s perception. My commitment is to listen in such a way that let’s people know that their perceptions matter to me. Regardless of what I think about what they are sharing, that they are sharing is what is most important. I dedicate myself to staying acutely aware that I am listening to their perceptions through my own perceptual lens. There is always bias. Being aware of that creates freedom in my heart and spaciousness in my mind. That freedom and spaciousness is what I offer as I listen and stay present.

Connection matters more to me than perception.

Yet we cannot remove perception from connection. It is all a part of our ever-evolving expansion of learning to grow in acceptance, honor, dignity, compassion, and love. Your perceptions have a place in my heart because you have a place in my heart. They may indeed be “just your perceptions” but they are a vital part of you. And I don’t want you to be anything other than “just you.” Perceptions and all.

I have come to recognize and embrace that my subject matter and writings have a somewhat limited appeal. That is, of course, just my perception. It is supported, however, by empirical evidence. So, whether you think this applies to you or not I invite you to listen carefully and dig deeply. Look for ways you may not receive people at their own perceptual level. Look for how you might apply dismissive labels. Look squarely at reactions that may create a disconnect, if only for a moment.

We are here in the realm of story. Of perception. We all project onto others at times. It is how we live and grow. And it is a high and holy opportunity to support each other in that growth. You don’t do that by dismissing another’s experience. No matter how misguided you think it is. Afterall, that is just your perception.

Perception and intimacy are not mutually exclusive. They go hand in hand. Heart to heart. I will intimately listen to your perceptions because you matter to me. All of you matters to me.

And because you matter, I write and share my experience. I understand it is just my experience. I understand that you may or may not even read it. If you do, you will read through your own perceptual lens. Through your own bias. And that matters to me too.

But then, it’s just my perception.

Saturday, February 11, 2023


“I don’t have a purpose anymore.”

The aftermath of open-heart surgery was not nearly as impactful as how that statement landed in my chest.

I took a deep breath. I looked into those eyes and saw the sincerity and I saw the sadness.

This man that I love so deeply. This man that has graced this planet for more than seventy-five years. This man who has helped so many people in so many ways. This man who has done so much. This man who has given so much.

And now this man cannot do what he used to do. He cannot do the simplest of tasks. He cannot reach out to help or give to others. And so by contrast he feels he has no purpose.

I perceptually understand where he was coming from. I also understand he was coming from a faulty premise.

He had thanked me for doing something, and I authentically responded that doing for him is part of my purpose. I meant that. I feel that. I celebrate that, even when it feels difficult or overwhelming. What I do not feel is that my ability to do for him is my only purpose. What I do not feel is that his inability to do for me lessens in any way his purpose. Our expression of purposes has shifted. Yet it does not get to what our primary purposes are.

“I don’t have a purpose anymore.”

I did not correct or seek to change his statement. I held his gaze as I deepened down into my own internal pain-filled response. I waited until authentic words filled my heart and made their way quietly through my tender voice.

“Sweetheart, your adorable, sweet, loving self is your purpose. Your purpose is to spread the beauty that is you to others. You bring joy to so many by simply being who you are. That is your purpose.”

He seemed to take it in and let it land. At least to some degree. Knowing him he will grapple with the notion that what he is, is his gift to the world. It is often said that we are the last ones to know. I believe that is true for my beloved. I guess that if he walked around trying to be adorable, he would only be annoying. It is the natural sweetness that emanates from him that makes him so infinitely appealing.

The exchange reminded me that the primary purpose for any of us is not found in what we do. Our purpose is not diminished when we do less, any more than it is augmented by doing more.

Our primary purpose is to love.

Our primary purpose is to let every single moment of our lives be an opportunity to be, to give, to share the love that we inherently are. We know that this is true because we never feel more resonant than when we are streaming love. Holding a space of love. Listening and speaking with love.

I have had a relatively busy day. That fact does not make me feel more purposeful.

I have consciously infused much of what I have done today with love. And that is what makes what I have done today feel very purposeful indeed.

And so, my darling, I understand that being able to do radically less than you used to do is making you feel less purposeful. I hear you. I feel your heart. I honor what you are experiencing.

And I beg you to reconsider.

Your sweet, loving, adorable presence makes you purposeful in ways transcendent of anything you could or cannot do. You bring joy with that incomparable, radiant smile. You tenderly touch and open hearts by simply being that wondrous, one of a kind you.

And you, dear reader. Yes, you.

Let this missive serve as a reminder that what you do does not make your life purposeful. It does not make you more or less valuable. You do not need to earn your worth.

Your purpose is simply to be the love you are. The love you intrinsically are. The love you already are. Know that, and then do what you do from that knowing.

To live a life of love is to live a life of purpose.

The love you already are is non-negotiable. It is your birthright. It is your purpose for being here. And it never fades.

No matter how little you do.

Saturday, February 4, 2023


“What did you dream of being earlier in your life?”

There are questions that stop a conversation before they initiate one.

I was having dinner with my husband Donald and a dear friend the other evening when the preceding question arose in my heart and came out of my mouth.

“What did you dream of being earlier in your life?”

I will not share in this public forum the answers that were given after a somewhat stunned silence. It was a rich, beautiful, meaningful conversation that continues to sing within my being. Most of my readers know that my beloved Donald has Lewy Body dementia, though he remains cognitively high functioning. Yet it was clear that while there is a level of forgetfulness for him dreams are always remembered. Many things can be taken from us but not the memory of what was virtually vital, moving, exciting.

I have shared before that most of my earlier dreams never actually came true. At least not in the way I thought they might. What did happen and what is crystal clear to me now is that the pursuit of my dreams led me not to their actualization but to what was more in alignment to my Souls purpose. Going after my dreams led me geographically to places where exactly what I needed was available and attainable. I met the people who would be most instrumental in helping me to see what I needed to see. I learned the exact right skills I needed to learn. There were opportunities that would have only opened in seemingly unrelated situations.

I had a lucid dream when I was a small child that changed my entire life. It was truly a revelation. Without going into details, I went to bed one person and was jolted awake by a dream, awakening as a truly different person. Even as a child I knew I would never be the same. I knew at a deep level that I would never fit into my family or cultural structure. I knew I was born for something different. What is perhaps most striking about this occurrence was that I was not afraid. The sense of aloneness in terms of my path felt right and true.

It has always felt right and true.

That was the truest dream of all for me. Oh, I had exciting dreams of what was possible. I had a level of talent that I cultivated and honed. I thought it would lead me to a life of accomplishment, even fame. Fortune. Awards. None of that really happened. And now I understand that all of that would have been in the category of booby prize.

I giggle to myself when I ponder that I am glad I never really made something out of myself because then I would have had to maintain that. I would have endured the pressure of trying to stay relevant. It would have been a constant striving for the next job.

I was never meant for that.

And so, my dreams were a map to a life beyond my dreams.

That does not mean I did not feel disappointed or discouraged. It does not mean I did not grieve what I thought was in store.

I did grieve. Indeed.

And that grieving was an essential part of the path to a deeper, broader fulfillment. I picked up the pieces of my broken dreams and formed a whole new vision for what was possible for me. Of what was essentially and authentically my part in this Masterwork called life. I recollected my talents, gifts, abilities and asked to be shown where, when, and how I might use them on behalf of something greater than myself.

I became clear that much of my dream for status, fame, fortune was in reaction to never feeling like I was enough. I did not grow up with almost any approval or affirmation. I wanted applause to drown out the condemning voices so prevalent in my head. I wanted bright lights to shine upon me because I did not yet know the Light that was meant to shine from within me. I wanted to stand out from the crowd because I secretly felt I didn’t belong anywhere and with anyone.

Just as that dream-revelation of my childhood jolted me awake the loss of my goal-like dreams gradually led to an awakening that never would have happened if I had realized the surface life I was dreaming of.

The stage lights would have obscured my inner light. The cheering would have drowned my inner voice. The striving to remain relevant would have distracted me from the true calling of my Soul.

I am certain that there are people for which that would not be true. They can have the applause and the awakening. And I am clear that would not have been the case for me.

I am clear that my dreams led me to my greatest joy and most wondrous fulfillment. And that happened because they did not come true. In not coming true they led me to a life that has had a lot of struggle yet also a vast amount of overcoming and subsequent service. I have never fit in. And I belong to myself in ways that are beyond my dreams.

And so dear readers, “What did you dream of being earlier in life?”

And did those dreams come true?

And whether they did or not to what did the pursuit of those dreams lead you?

May you know, dear ones, a life beyond your wildest dreams.

May your dreams awaken you to what you were always meant to be.

Saturday, January 7, 2023


My first message of this new year may not at first seem hopeful.

I assure you it is.

Systems everywhere are crumbling.

The status quo is failing because it is no longer sustainable.

The old order has passed away, never to return.

There is chaos, energetic devastation all around us.

Individual lives are crumbling just as is the collective consciousness. Those are not two separate things. They are one. Or more accurately they IS one. We are holographic beings. What is in the whole is in the One.

What is in the Whole is in the One.

There is a Cosmic crumbling of the old order. There is chaos. There is disaster. There is darkness and there is devastation. I invite you to stay alert because energetic artifacts are flying all about. Religions are dying. Systems are dying. Governments are dying. Groups and societies of all sorts are crumbling and disintegrating and dying.

And amid all of that scariness and messiness is perhaps a greater potential than we have ever seen or known. And this is why I for one have great hope.

Nothing is crumbling or dying that doesn’t need to go. What is outmoded is appropriately being outcast. We are not losing anything. A new reality is coming into being. And it is a bumpy process. That is just the way it works.

I am beholding a massive crumbling that has been occurring in my life circumstances for the past few years. Enormous seeming losses. Multiple rejections, if I choose to frame them that way. A reordering in almost every area of my living. And what has not begun to actively crumble is definitely showing cracks.

I am grateful to be in a place in consciousness that sees it all for what it is. A shifting, a reordering in consciousness. I know that it is in service of my evolution. I do not fear it. I truly do not. I am moving with it. I am up to the task. I have great faith from direct lived experience. I actively live in a Universe that supports my highest unfoldment. I follow Its promptings. When something starts to crumble, I blow it a kiss and say goodbye. No clinging to what no longer serves. I did that for decades. I do not do that anymore.

I am enhanced by the knowing that as what is in the Whole is in the One my personal crumbling and rebuilding has a direct influence on all living beings. I have an impact on the entire collective Field. This is true for all of us. I just choose to own it and live actively from it. I do so gratefully, faithfully, wakefully, and consistently.

So, I say let it all crumble! Let it all fall. Most of it was no longer working anyway. We are meant to evolve, grow, and change. We can only do that if we let go of what was. The Cosmic consciousness is creating a void and it will fill it with something far better. We are simply asked to cooperate. To stop trying to hold together a crumbling world. It fulfilled its purpose. And something new beneath is what is causing the crumbling.

And so, my first blog of 2023 is one of great hope: systems everywhere are crumbling. Things are falling apart. A great purging is in process.

Let it happen.

We are in this together. We are each a part of the same whole. We are holons who are called to live on behalf of the whole. Let’s be bold and brave, courageous as we crumble together.

Something wondrous is coming forth. I can feel it. These are faith-quakes we are feeling, and that is okay. Trust. Rely on something greater than the fear-based self. Say goodbye to what no longer serves. And say hello to what you as of yet cannot see.

Out of the crumbling is coming a whole new order of living, giving, serving. We are going to see a higher level of human expression than we have ever seen. I know it to be so. Take my word for it. Or not. Either way it is the vision I am holding. For myself and for all living beings.

Out of the crumble, a whole new world.

Bring it on.