The Time Is Now

A friend dragged me to one of those real estate seminars last night. Not the one where Donald Trump, Robert Kiyosaki, Tony Robbins, George Foreman and a myriad of other over hyped billionaire gurus with rock star status speak about instances that changed their lives and to cash in on the “experience” of seeing them live, but one that didn’t have a reality T.V. cash cow and his friends.

This one was sponsored by one of the biggest real estate companies in the world and it only had a handful of people. The speaker was an unassuming man from England with 50 years of experience in real estate. Not nearly as famous as the aforementioned, but a bona fide contender in the realm of real estate.

He spoke about real facts and figures that you can make in real estate if you apply yourself. He said it wasn't easy, but if you dedicated yourself to it, you would probably be able to make a decent living without breaking your back. Many people believe that in order to make a living, they have to suffer with back breaking work over a period of time to get their just reward at the end of their lives. His answer to that was, “Why wait?”

Sheep will always cry out for shepherds, even wolves in sheep's clothing. They look for others like Trump to do it for them, to tell them how to do it in simple terms. No one else can make you successful. It has to come from your efforts. He showed us a year clock that started on January 1st. It counts down the days until the end of the year.

As everyone stared at it, it became a daunting task. The hours, minutes and seconds were ticking down. Tick. Tick. Tick. Staring at it just made it worse. Made you feel like you were wasting time. Yeah, wasting time staring at that darn clock.

At the end of the seminar, he said with a smile,

Don’t wait until it is too late to do something about your life.

A very effective end to a seminar that seemed to be more about life than real estate. Isn’t the prime real estate really the area in your Soul that tells you you’re in the right space? I wouldn’t sell that for the world.

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Failure Is Not An Option

"The majority of men
meet with failure
because of their lack
of persistence in creating
new plans
to take the place
of those which fail."

~Napoleon Hill

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The Devil Wears A Wife-beater

The weather is bipolar, two-faced, schizophrenic, crazy. It doesn’t know what it wants. Just last week, it was raining while the sun was out. Sunny AND raining? What’s happening?

My mother has a colorful expression for this phenomenon. When this happens, she says,
“The devil is beating his wife.” Because the devil held province over the day, it was hot. The rain was the result of his wife’s tears.

How ridiculous is that? I can’t imagine the devil wearing a wife-beater. Besides, when did the devil get married? I must have missed the memo.

My mother is a comprised of old wives tales, pop psychology and mid western idiom. A combination of befuddling expressions that marked my childhood with richness and humor. No telling what other phrases she picked up on the streets of Chicago in her youth.

Though I don’t like hot rain searing the skin off of my face, this phenomenon does spawn hilarious sites. Forget about the devil wearing Prada, the devil could be wearing shorts or a bikini under that raincoat. Sunglasses under that umbrella. Goloshes over those Jimmy Choo’s.

Drivers who just got their cars washed pound their fists on the dashboards. House painters have to start from scratch. Everyone in L.A. speeds up, then slows down. Convertible drivers are pulling their tops up and down. Rain soaked sun worshippers screaming as they swan dive off of rooftop decks, from sunblock stinging their eyes.

It’s a real mess -- cleverly designed. A mess of epic proportions. Designed by, who else? Who else could demand our attention? Who else would have the power to design such a thing? Not the devil, but God.

Even in the rain, there is sunshine. The silver lining of the clouds. In life we often get sun and rain. No matter how much rain comes pounding down on our parade, it’s just clearing the sky for sunshine.

Usually, immediately after this happens, a rainbow appears. Now I don’t have a degree in meteorology and I can’t explain it other than what I see. From my experience, I have seen it more often than not. A rainbow is God’s smile.

On another note, we can’t be like the weather; unpredictable. We have to know exactly what we want and then strive to get it. Focus and clarity brings acquisition. And acquisition brings our own personal rainbows.

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The Real Bling

Language is an ever expansive melting pot of culture, lifestyle and bling. There is always a new and deliciously interesting word to discover somewhere in the world. A word with multiple meanings.

For instance, take bling. Bling, a.k.a. bling-bling is a funny thing. It’s hip hop slang for expensive jewelry and a lifestyle built around excess spending and ostentation. The term refers to the imaginary sound that light makes when it hits a diamond.

Bling has crossed all socioeconomic and cultural lines and in the process, the word itself garners as much attention as what it describes.

Bling is designed to grab attention. It’s blinding. Shiny. You can’t stop staring at it. It can’t stop winking at you. It distracts you, making some people desire it for themselves.

Then there’s the inner bling. The genuine article. The real thing. The kind that is always shining. The kind that sparkles in the dark. The kind that you can see and hear in a person’s character and being. The kind that brings as much joy to the wearer as the admirer. The kind of bling that really makes a statement. The real bling. The kind that provokes you to think.

Well, I was almost blinded by some outstanding bling the other day when I dropped in on Coffee Messiah's provocative blog. He got tagged by another blogger to come up with five quotes. The ones he produced are all so majestic that I thought it was only right to put more shine on them.

I was going to extend the tag here and come up with five quotes, but I can’t top the awe-inspiring combination of his quotes. They are the kind of bling that stays with you long after you’re gone. It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that bling.

I did hear a quote last night from a most unlikely source. It was a promotional ad for World Wide Wrestling. The semi-clad wrestlers were slamming each other into the ropes and bouncing each other off of those spring loaded mats. The crowd goes wild.

One wrestler is lying face down on the mat. Another one, who tops the scales at 400 pounds easy, does a swan dive and lands on the other one's back. We don’t hear the wrestler yell, we just see his facial expression like he’s just been hit by a train. Then we hear the voice over:

“Pain is nothing more
than weakness
leaving the body.”

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Razzle Dazzle Them

"Do not attempt
to do a thing
unless you are
sure of yourself;
but do not relinquish it
simply because
someone else
is not sure of you."

~Stewart E. White

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Eyes In The Sky

When I worked at a magazine, I got to wear many hats including that as editor. I had to proofread; correcting typos, tense, style and grammar. I also had to pull quotes (those quotes in an article, usually in bold), and just make the piece read well. Sometimes I would catch all the errors, but other times they would slip by my observant eyes.

Even when I post. Though I proofread and catch 99% of typos, there is always the 1% that stands out. Usually I'll catch it later or Alex who captains the wondrous blog, B.I.D.E. will gently point them out.

My managing editor used to say that before a piece is published, it can always use “another set of eyes.” No matter how many times you read it, there is always going to be something you miss. That’s just the way it is.

I was partnered with a man that was excellent at style and grammar, but not at spelling and skillfully weaving words through sentences, which is my strength due to my black belt in thesaurus.

I wasn’t partnered because I was incompetent, it was because one person couldn’t be held responsible for what went to print; it was a group effort. We all have blind spots from time to time. Ironically, we often see them in others before we see them in ourselves.

I’ve always felt that there were eyes watching me. Eyes that need no invitation. Eyes that emanate warmth and kindness. Eyes that remind me of my past. Eyes that guide me to my future. Eyes that said nothing, but said it all. Eyes of resplendent glory and faith. Eyes of the invisible that became very clear.

I do know that we are more susceptible to blind spots when we are overburdened. We can decrease our blind spots by becoming more aware of their existence. By becoming aware of “another set of eyes.” They have always been there. Just ask your inner spirit to show you your blind spots. To define your vision. You may be surprised at what you find.

When we do things that keep us from achieving the best we can achieve, we are blinded by the light. When there is a cohesion of our action and spirit, we are guided by the light.

So on your journey to your ultimate self, don’t forget to pack your extra set of eyes to help you through the murkiness. You are not alone. The eyes in the sky are upon you. Now and always.

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Love Never Dies

I came across this story on the internet. You may find it interesting.

VALDARO, Italy (Reuters) - Italy won't split up its Stone Age "lovers."

‘In a Valentine's Day gift to the country, scientists said they are determined to remove and preserve together the remains of a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, their arms still wrapped around each other in an enduring embrace.

Instead of removing the bones one-by-one for reassembly later, archaeologists plan to scoop up the entire section of earth where the couple was buried. The plot will then be transported for study before being put on display in an Italian museum, thereby preserving the world's longest known hug for posterity.

Their removal will be a relief for archaeologists who had to hire extra security to guard the rural site outside the northern city of Mantova after the discovery made world headlines.

More importantly, it will give scientists a chance to figure out what was has become one of Italian archaeology's greatest mysteries: the first known Neolithic couple to be buried together, hugging. Was it a sudden death? A ritual sacrifice? Or maybe they were prehistoric, star-crossed lovers who took their own lives.

Italians dubbed them the "Lovers of Valdaro" after the Mantova suburb of farmland and factories. But even their gender is a open question until scientists confirm the theory that they were a man and a woman.

Archaeologists seem certain the couple died young, since their teeth are intact and that they died during the Stone Age because of an arrowhead and tools found with the remains.

John Robb, lecturer at Cambridge University and an expert in Neolithic Italian remains, says the trouble with the Stone Age couple is the singularity of the find -- which makes it difficult to explain using known historic data. Neolithic burials are almost always single burials.’

Note: If you are celebrating Valentines Day today with your one and only, “ 'til death do you part,” meant nothing in the stone age.

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Love Hath No Fear

The perils of love are definitely not for the faint of heart. The upside of love take us through the whirlwind of passion, cranks our temperature up, brings color to our face and makes us feel like we are on the top of the world.

The other side of love -- the dark side, drags us throught the mud, makes us doubt that we are worthy and decimates us for what seems like an eternity -- that is human love.

Human love has it’s limitations, limited to what resides in our human consciousness, but sometimes it surprises me. The purest love comes from that source within everyone that connects us to our ultimate source; the place where love is cultivated.

We have a choice whether to love ourselves or not. Whether to suffer the pains that enslave our spirit or gracefully traverse through the bad experiences and hold on to good ones. Any way you look at it, it’s the amount of experiences -- good or bad -- that fossilize our experience with our inner most being.

Soul exists because God loves it and if we know that Soul has a lifetime of experiences behind it and more in front of it then we will never fear love.

It’s a liberating feeling to know that even at times when we don’t love ourselves, God loves us. Remember, we are fearless.

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Boom Boom Room

Music is magic. Power. Emotion. Verve. Raw. Therapy. It provides a safe place for feelings to escape. A haven for the lovelorn. The loveless. The love thirsty. But it doesn’t confront our pressing need for love as much as it riles our longing to soothe the savage beast within us.

I usually have iTunes on random play while I do housework. I can honestly say that the dusting, vacuuming and polishing go a lot faster with a back beat. Sometimes I even close my eyes and merge with the music.

Now I’m listening to U2’s, Vertigo. When Bono roars, “Hello, hello... (Hola)/I'm at a place called Vertigo/ It’s everything I wish I didn’t know/Except you give me something/I can feel...,” I know he’s singing to me. He sings to everybody in a way that reaches out. That’s just the way he is.

Nothing like a pounding soundtrack. Something to put the boom in the room. Cranked to 11. To make the paint come off the walls, the windows vibrate and the chandeliers do the ceiling shake.

Every month I wax the Oak hardwood floors with a five dollar mop that gives it just the right shine. Murphy’s Oil soap provides the sheen, I provide the elbow grease and the sinewy vertebrae. It beats going to the gym and waiting for those shiny stair climbers and treadmills dripping with perspiration.

If there is anything that can demand my attention, it is the subwoofer. The dictator that demands the show. Demands that I be undivided. It sends the bass like an assassin. Goes through my heart like a bullet. Relentless beats through my Soul so I can’t turn away.

After an hour, I am finished. It feels more like ten minutes with music. I told you, music is magic. It can screw up your concept of time, but it can make you feel good in all the right places. My living room could double as a dance studio with its lustrous floors. Look at them. Picture perfect if I do say so myself.

Track 41, Pump It Up by Elvis Costello. The perfect song to end my chore. The subwoofer takes this song to heart. When I say pumping, I mean ear shattering. The chandelier doesn’t look too steady. Maybe it’s had too much to drink. Too much to see. Too much to handle. Too much of everything. It doesn’t look right. It is hanging two inches lower than it was before I started. Maybe the room had too much boom today. Elvis is not helping by repeating, “Pump it up when don’t really need it/Pump it up until you can feel it...”

So now I have a glossy floor that is about to become a glassy floor if I don’t sort that chandelier out. Music is my rock. No pun intended. It is the force that keeps me sane. It’s good to have forces that keep our heads above water. That’s what keeps us in balance and in the flow of life.

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Write Your World

As a writer I realize that there are many words. Words out there looking for a home. Looking to be put with other words to form a bond, a family, a sense of belonging -- a Soul if you will.

People too are like words. We look for a home of like-minded people, people with a similar character to us, people whose energy seems to fit ours -- kindred spirits.

If the adage, “you are only as good as the company you keep,” is true, then we can truly be judged by a jury of our peers. While we work to make ourselves into the best spiritual beings as possible, we also subconsciously work at finding the right individuals to fortify our spirituality.

Words, like people don’t work alone. They have an army of assistants; punctuation, verbs, nouns, adjectives, adverbs -- the latter being modifiers. The modifier adds information to another element in the sentence. It enhances the sentence, gives it spirit. Some people are also modifiers. They enhance our lives by adding love.

We need words and love as much as we need people. Finding the right ones is what makes our sentences go a little easier, sound a little better and last a little longer. Any way you look at it, we are working together in a world of words and people. Choose yours wisely.

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It Just Came Out

There’s nothing like positive reinforcement to replay in your mind from time to time, sometimes at odd moments that make you say to yourself, “Did I just say that?”

Growing up in a big family, my mother had to think of creative ways to coerce us into behaving in a way pleasing to her disposition. With six kids trying to spread their wings at different intervals in her life, she had to outfox us to keep her from being totally exhausted.

When we did our daily chores, she devised a way to make us do them without the usual kid retort, “I don’t want to do that?” Let’s face it, kids are designed to play, not clean up -- that chore is strictly for parents.

Though as kids, we are amply armed with boundless energy to put our black fingerprints on the clean white walls, track little footprints on the freshly mopped floor and race up stairs screaming like banshees; we don’t have energy to clean up and besides our little hands are not equipped to clean up -- there's no fun in cleaning up.

It’s even in the child manual that we should play until the cows come home and have our parents clean up long after the cows have gone.

To keep her tiny soldiers in order and to maintain her sanity, my mother would promise us “stars in heaven,” if we completed our chores without any resistance or namby-pamby rhetoric.

Though my siblings didn’t seem to care about having stars in heaven, I always thought the visual was nice to have my own star in heaven with my name on it. It was better that being immortalized on Hollywood’s Walk Of Fame. I would go one better by being immortalized in the universe -- God’s Walk Of Fame, well not really fame, more like humility.

Fame is the flower that fades, humility is the ever lasting perfume.

Well, anyway unbeknownst to me at the time, that imagery became a part of my psyche and I would haul it into adulthood like a badge of honor. I always did my chores and sometimes did my siblings chores for a bit of cash under my mother’s radar.

Naturally, I received the most stars in heaven and cash (otherwise I wouldn’t be telling this story now would I?) I would look at the heavens at night, count my stars and find comfort knowing that my star coffers were full.

Cut to present day. Bringing this full circle, the bank sent me the wrong checks and I had to call them to rectify their mistake. The gentleman apologized immediately and rectified the bank’s error and I said, “You get a star in heaven.”

As silly as it must have sounded, and hoping he didn't think I had just gone loopy, he really seemed to appreciate the gesture and the magical powers that I must have possessed to grant him a star in heaven.

This is all thanks to my mother. How could she make me blurt out something like that at such an inopportune time? Was it my mother’s words or the universe taking me back in time to those unforgettable moments of childhood and innocence.

Whatever the reason, it was all positive reinforcement. We are so quick to tell people that they are doing a bad job, and to point out their faults. Quick to unsettle someone’s confidence and terrorize their spirits. We rarely stop and thank people for doing a good job. It’s never too late to praise someone -- anyone. It’s all a part of giving love.

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Golden Tongue Salesman

Recently I was touring a new home community with a friend. One of the prospective buyers had a question about the surrounding areas. He wanted to know whether they would be included in “the new community.” The salesman turned and said,

We have no control of what’s surrounding us, only what’s within us.

I thought that was a key phrase with spiritual implications worth mentioning and repeating. We have no control of what’s surrounding us, only what’s within us.

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Friday Gratitude - Open For Business

After being down for a while, the Blogger comment section is now working. Technology is great -- when it is working.

When it isn't, it can cause frustration, disappointment and anxiety -- all the emotions we don't want. We are so involved with technology that we go through mourning when we lose it.

We have to understand that technology does not control us, we control it. The way technology grows, it is hard not to be reliant upon it. We use it in every aspect of our lives from alarm clocks, telephones, banking, computing and all areas of communication.

The upshot is that technology keeps getting better and I can only hope that one day it will never be defective. Whether technology is here for eons or for a few more hours, I am grateful for the conveniences it brings me. As long as I am not attached to it, it won't be attached to me.

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No Comments

I have been informed by several faithful readers that the Blooger comment section is not working. If you have tried to make a comment and can't do it, I apologize for their technical errors.

You can email me your comments and I will post them as soon as the comment page is fixed.

Thanks for your patience.

Thanks for reading.

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The 'I' In Purify

With only 28 days in a non leap year, February is a short month. While it may be the shortest, it is one of the most significant. It’s the month where you can celebrate groundhog day, love, African American history and purification.

February comes from the word 'februa' - which means cleansing or purification, and reflects the rituals undertaken before Spring. With New Years Resolutions behind us and everything ahead of us, February greets us with open arms to escort us into Spring. February blazed onto the Roman calendar by Numa Pompilous when this calendar was extended from ten to twelve months.

February was labeled Sol-monath (cake-month) by the Anglo Saxsons because cakes were offered to the gods during that month. Years later Marie Antoinette would take this to a new level when she exclaimed, “Let them eat cake.”

Before February settled on it’s name, it also went by the names, Feverell and Februeer. For a short month, February has a lot to say, including Candlemas; a day when all the candles that were used in the church during the coming year were brought into church and a blessing was said over them - so it was the Festival Day (or 'mass') of the Candles.

Candlemas is a day which holds many different customs. The flower called snowdrop appears in February and is a symbol of hope. According to legend, the snowdrop became the symbol of hope when Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden. As Eve was about to give up hope that the cold winters would never end, an angel appeared and transformed the snowflakes into snowdrop flowers, proving that the winters do eventually give way to the spring.

During the night, heavy snowfall blanketed the countryside and small villages of Southern Devon. People huddled together to keep warm. Eventually dawn broke and revealed a bleak frozen landscape and mysterious footprints in the shape of a cloven hoof, but they moved in single file. More astonishingly was the fact that they covered a distance of over one hundred miles and went through fields, gardens, towns, and even over rooftops.

People were intrigued and alarmed and believed the footprints belonged to the devil. Experts investigated the footprints, but they could not offer any satisfactory solution to the mystery. Those were the days before forensic experts became a part of the story. Today we know them by their first names and resumes, not to mention the spotlight they have shone on DNA.

Though February has much to make up for it’s length, you don’t have to be bound by what it dictates. Make it your own month. For instance, make it a month of blessings, good deeds, charity, compassion -- anything you like. Remember February is your stepping stone to spring forth.

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