October 22, 2006

A Thousand Beautiful Things


The Anointing Sun rising over the Ionian Sea

Every day I write the list
Of reasons why I still believe they do exist
(a thousand beautiful things)
And even though it’s hard to see
The glass is full and not half empty
(a thousand beautiful things)
So…light me up like the sun
To cool me down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
Never close my eyes

I can always find the perfect lyric to express my mood, like the one above by the immensely talented Annie Lennox from her song A Thousand Beautiful Things.  Music has been my faithful companion this summer.  It is loyal, sensitive, loving, and deep, understands my pain, sparks my creativity and soothes my soul.  The photo is one of many taken during sunrise here in Badolato.  It would appear that nature has been granted the fast track to the soul. 

I love new experiences and my summer in Europe has been full of them.  Undoubtedly, each experience is immeasurably enhanced when I am willing to find the beautiful things in what could easily be interpreted as a cruel and ugly world.  I am committed to witnessing a thousand beautiful things even in the presence of that which is dreadful and inhumane.  I am learning that sometimes, beauty is not the forfeiture of ugly but the inclusion of it.

For a moment, I thought I was losing my faith in humanity.  It’s taking a concerted effort to maintain my optimism in a world that seems to be crumbling, and, is consumed in a chaotic heap of insanity.  To borrow the words of Marvin Gaye, “What’s going on?”  You know what amazes me…how people go on with their daily routines while parts of the world are being ripped to shreds, people are killed and maimed, raped and persecuted and we just go on about our business.  What the hell are we doing?  How is it possible to be so disconnected?  Are we so desensitized that it doesn’t even shock us anymore?  Why are we so mean to each other?  Forget our ability to love; we can’t even be civil toward each other.  Our capacity for simple kindness is overshadowed by our capacity for bigotry and intolerance.  Sometimes I’m so utterly confused by it all.  Yet, every day, in whatever way, I try to open my heart to another aspect of the human condition.  My mantra:  “It is what it is.”

While I try to practice acceptance everyday, some days I fail miserably.  I also diligently investigate the questions that occupy my mind.  Just as I look to see a thousand beautiful things, I need to ask a thousand more questions.

What is up with humanity?
Are we afraid of the truth?
What’s with the fundamentalism sweeping the planet?
Why aren’t there more free thinkers in the world?
How do we make sense of life when life makes no sense?
What’s it all for?

Will there ever be a time when war ceases completely?  Who knows? 
Will there ever be an end to racism, sexism, classism, terrorism, elitism – and what I consider to be increasingly alarming – patriotism?  Who knows? 
Am I just too idealistic?  Who knows?

Some time ago, my friend Jose turned me on to Sam Keen’s wonderful website:  Philosophy for Everyday Life at samkeen.com.  He says:

Human life is a journey whose end is not in sight. Searching, longing and questioning is in our DNA. Who we are and what we will become is determined by the questions that animate us, and by those we refuse to ask. Your questions are your quest. As you ask, so shall you be.

Questions are rich, magnificent sacred powers.  We need to invoke this power and ask some serious questions and keep asking them over and over again.  The challenge is that questions are mysteries and people prefer answers (even if they’re lies).  Questions are precursors to change and people prefer consistency and security (even if it means others have to die for it).

Today, I question everything I know to be true.  I sit here ruminating in the vast expanse of the questions themselves.   Why do I believe what I believe?  Could the opposite also be true?  Is what I believe to be true just another spell?  What if there are no answers?  What if what I believe is a lie?  How many lies do I believe? 


Why do we perpetuate mindsets almost as archaic as ruins?

The mind, instead of freeing us has imprisoned us.  I so resonate with author Eckhart Tolle when he writes that we are at a time in our evolution when it is critical that we move beyond thought.  In his new book, A New Earth, he writes:

“Thinking is only a tiny aspect of the consciousness that we are.”
“Humanity, instead of using thought became possessed by thought.
“Thought can at best point to the truth, but it never is the truth.”
“They don’t realize the limitations of thought.”

I love the quote that says we have become possessed by thought.  Maybe our thoughts are not nearly significant as we once believed.  I find this absolutely liberating.  Instead of controlling my thoughts, I am now free to explore them with creative abandon.  Every belief, thought, concept, opinion, word or conclusion is just another structure that, somehow and someway, keeps me bound to an already existing interpretation.  My friend and therapist, Pratibha, calls it, frozen in time. 

A few weeks ago, my friend, Erik, came to visit me in Badolato.  We toured Calabria, driving through the mountains and along the coastline.  We engaged in long conversations about “peasant mentality” and how frustrating it has been for me at times dealing with the mind set of the people here.  While I have completely fallen in love with the rustic charm of this ancient village and have recalibrated my energetic system to groove with the medieval vibe, I still can’t get used to the constrictive mindset.
It reminds me of my childhood in Hawaii.  I was very challenged by the “local mentality” which shares many similarities, if not everything, to “peasant mentality.”  It is a tribal mindset that seems to lock people’s minds in a very limited world view.  There is no room, or very little room, for people with broad gestures such as myself, because tribal mentality dictates that everyone conform to the group.

Since I’ve been here, I have become absolutely fascinated, again, as to why people (those who can – in the supposed free world) don’t expand and move beyond their present circumstances, or, do they at least fantasize about it?  Ever since I was a little boy I wanted to leave Hawaii.  I felt so confined by the limitations of the local mentality.  And, I couldn’t understand why other people weren’t.  Today, I realize that Hawaii wasn’t so different and that the tribal mind is alive and well all over the planet; which leads me to the thought of freedom.  (By the way, Hawaii has since become everything I ever want it to be.)

What is freedom? – This wonderfully rich question that has been front and center in my consciousness ever since I participated in Alan Clements’ World Dharma on line course.  Erik and I had a debate about it on one of our drives up the coast.  I supposedly live in the land of the free, right?  Good ole America, (I really do love my country).  But, just exactly, how free are we?  The fact that everyone thinks and believes we’re free doesn’t automatically make us free – please understand that I am very aware that our country was founded on principles of freedom.  That does not, however, ensure our freedom.

Freedom is multidimensional.  While I am technically free to move anywhere in the U.S., as an openly gay male, if I moved to a homophobic neighborhood in some hick town USA, would I really be allowed to express myself freely there?  I think not!  We are not free as long as there are those who violently impose their views, doctrines, and laws on us.  Imposition is not freedom!  And, might I add, why, please tell me why, we do not find it absolutely appalling that the “land of the free” is so busy imposing their values and doctrines on those who don’t want them?  Is that not the antithesis to freedom? 

My faith in humanity is restored when websites like liberatefreedom.com are launched.  It’s a wonderful opportunity to connect with people from all over the world, support something intelligent and explore the meaning of freedom.  Humans’ connecting with each other fosters peace. Please take the time to check it out.

Another website I discovered recently is hellocruelworld.net by Kate Bornstein.  She is the partner of my dear friend Barbara Carrellas.  Kate’s new book is 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws.


A portal into the soul

My time in Badolato has quickly come to a close.  I find it hard to believe that two months have passed.  The days have disappeared and I have, indeed, been on a sacred journey – one that has taken me deep into the abyss, into the recesses of my soul.  I have no idea what it all means or how it has changed me, or is changing me for that matter.  Words do not escape me; there just are no words sufficient enough to describe the depth, immensity and vastness of this experience.  Life, the intriguing mystery that it is, sometimes moves us in ways we can never anticipate.  Be open.

Love, Daniel

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August 06, 2006

Sojourn

Tonight, there is a beautiful wind blowing through the mountains, it almost sounds lyrical.  I open the balcony doors, pull up a chair, get comfortable and gaze into the night sky filled with twinkling stars.  A shooting star goes by.  I am swept up in the moment.  In fact, I am having one of those "present time" experiences.  Everything falls away, time is suspended, and the moment demands nothing less than my full attention.  I am here.  There is nothing but this moment, the dark night, my total presence, and the mystery in which it is all contained.  These are beautiful moments, gifts from the universe, priceless and rare.  There is nothing to do, nowhere to go, just be.  Be fully present in this holy moment. 

I am alone.  I love my aloneness, except when it turns into loneliness.  This time, it's inevitable.  I am in a very deep space; alone and lonely.  I am getting reacquainted with vaguely familiar, but, definitely recognizable parts of myself.   I had no idea how much I needed this time, this experience, this place.  My insides have been churning, stirring up a delirious melancholy that I can't step beyond or out of.  But, it seems appropriate, necessary and I don't attempt to escape it.  Instead, I enter it, the valley, that is, and take up residence.  I can't remember the last time I have been this still.

Slowly, sometimes very slowly, I am learning to release the reigns of control.  And, of course, that depends on what day it is and who you ask.  But, nonetheless, that is something I am working on.  It is no easy task.  It's a funny thing because I tell God that I am willing to surrender and trust the process of life and then, not long after, I find myself interfering and imposing my will, yet again.  Being in Badolato, however, has definitely been a process of surrender and letting go as it is virtually impossible to impose my demands on this ancient village.  Actually, it has been a gentle process of relaxing into the rhythm and pace of village life.  I have finally gotten over the guilt of sleeping so long.  There could be a huge sign in the village that says, "Sleeping Encouraged." 

One of the ways I participate in the village culture is to join the older ladies in church.  I had no idea, however, they would keep tabs on me and monitor how often I attended mass and whether or not I received Holy Communion.  But they do.  They actually keep tabs on everything and everyone.  No anonymity here.  And when Ann Maria mentioned that she hadn't seen me in church in a couple of days, that insidious Catholic guilt popped right up and I found myself attending Mass that afternoon.  If I arrive early enough, I sit and listen to the women say the rosary in Italian. 

I had one of the most remarkable walks the other day.  I took a mountain road that leads to Santa Catarina, a village perched on the next mountain top.  Along the way I picked wild boysenberries that were juicy and delicious, drank fresh stream water and communed with nature.  I eventually made my way to a scenic point where I could look through a valley and out to the sea.  This was worth stopping for, so I did.  I took a deep, healing breath and let the fragrant breeze of eucalyptus waft through me and revive my senses.  The sound of the wind through the trees and the flowing stream through the valley calmed and relaxed me.  The valley seemed symbolic for the deep cavernous space of my own interior. The sound of the water was so enticing I had to touch it, so I found the stream, took my shoes off, put my feet in, laid back and watched the white clouds roll across the deep blue sky.  I had never actually witnessed clouds dissipate before my very eyes.  But, today they did.  I was reminded that everything comes and goes.  I was having one of those moments again.  The ones where everything falls away, time ceases and there is nothing but the moment - pure, unadulterated, magnificent bliss.  These moments are happening more often than not.  I recognize it and give thanks. These are, I discovered, as unlikely as it may seem, hedonistic moments - pure pleasure and a refined grace that comes from the celebration of life.  All my senses are engaged and I discover there is a true spiritual glory at the heart of the Hedonist.

Life is an adventure and these are adventurous times.  Not just from a physical perspective - 9 countries in 9 months - but also from an internal perspective - I am journeying deeper into my soul.

I remember my first trip to Europe.  It was in 1984, I was 22 years old, and I came here for 4 months.  It was a dream come true.  I wrote all the time, filling journal after journal with my reflections and observations.  I was very inquisitive and looking for the meaning of life.  Today, 22 years later, I am still inquisitive and still looking for the meaning of life!  It's comforting to know that there are certain things that you can always count on.  What a journey it has been and still is.  Maybe we never stop finding ourselves because there is always something more to discover, uncover, realize, recognize, know, understand and appreciate.  That certainly seems to be the case with me.  I have this hunger for life, a thirst for truth, I want to know and understand the world I come from, the world I live in, and the world I am going to. 

Soul work is a solo experience. 

I am with my soul here - deep soul time - an intimacy unlike any other.  I can feel it but I can't touch it.  It is present but I can't locate it.  It's all around me, I'm enveloped in it.  It is closer than the blood in my veins, but, unlike the blood in my veins, I can't isolate it.  I am learning about my soul and the soul.  It has been intensely gratifying and intensely demanding.  I have jumped on the roller coaster of emotion; whisked through highs and lows and twists and turns and have stayed present with every moment.   I am simultaneously blissful, ecstatic and in complete awe of nature and my solitude, and, heavy hearted, melancholy, despondent and consumed by deep seated inadequacy.  I know this place, I have been here before, but that was a very long time ago.   A part of me wants to run home and I know I must stay and fully enter this space.   I have entered it.  I dive right in and I am swimming in it. 

I find solace and comfort through a beautiful song In the Deep.  I play it over and over again and let the haunting lyrics and melody wash over like a healing bath. 

In the silence
All your secrets will
Raise their weary heads
Well, you can't pin yourself
Back together with who
You thought you were

And now you're spinning
And now you're swimming
In the deep
In the deep


As I turned the corner, on my walk back home yesterday, the village appeared from around the mountain.  It struck me and stopped me in my tracks.  "What are you doing in this old place?"  I asked myself.  It became apparent that this old place is very symbolic of the old places buried within me that are pulling, tugging at my awareness saying "Look here.  Give voice to that which has been silenced and held captive for too long. You are ready."  And, I respond, "But, I don't want to revisit that 'old' place."  And, suddenly I realize, I'm already in it.  It's all around me.  I am in an ancient, medieval vibration that is energetically pulling me into the archives of my own unconscious.  I am enveloped in something that I can feel.  It's palpable.  Sometimes I feel like I am covered in a thick molasses that keeps dripping from a giant spoon in the sky covering me with a gooey, dark substance that I can't seem to scrape off.  So I have to taste it, smell it, and feel it until it dissolves into me, permeating me, sinking into my cell tissue until it is completely integrated.  Something is working on me and it feels very different than what I expected. 

Human life is very deep and our modern dominant lifestyle is not.
~Bo Lozoff

In our new age culture we go away on a retreat and think that gives us access to our soul. Most of the time, it just give us access to a retreat.  I don't think we can turn the soul on and off like a switch.  Some of us have an idea that it's like a cable station, "Soul on Demand."  You can't purchase access to your soul.  It's funny because I don't believe our souls are in us, but rather, we are in it.  How many of us in the modern world really experience the depth and immensity of our soul life?  Our western lifestyle is not soul oriented - it's consumer oriented.

Last night, I was at dinner with Leslie, a British woman I met here in Badolato.  We were sharing our stories and she commented, "You have a life that most people would envy."  While that may appear to be true on the surface, most people would only envy it for what I have managed to create materialistically. 

I have mastered the art of manifestation, that's true.  But manifesting isn't spirituality.  Manifesting is the art of creation, something that belongs to the earthly domain.  Having "stuff" doesn't make me a better soul.   Now, I want to master the internal life.  And, for several years, I have been doing so.  But, you really do have to be careful for what you ask for.  While all my CMED friends get to be mystics without monasteries, it would appear that I get to be the one with a monastery.  Life in Badolato is about as close as one can get, according to my standards, to a monastic life.  Put the Hedonist in the monastery and when he finds pleasure there he will know the true empowerment of life.  So be it!

When you start to unravel the mysteries of your life you have no idea where it's going to take you.  If you try to control it, you sever there connection. You have to be willing to go with it, follow, wherever it leads. 

I am learning that healing happens effortlessly if you let it and don't try to interfere.  When something needs your attention, it appears.  It shows up, emerging from your psyche, stepping forward at the most appropriate time.  Whether or not you want to respond is an entirely different subject.  If you choose healing, you will learn a whole new meaning of surrender.  You cannot impose your will on the healing process and demand that it reshape itself to accommodate your definition of what you think healing should be.  The more we try the more it evades us.  Here's a paradox from my recent experiences with my soul and healing:

It hurts but it doesn't hurt.  A lot gets done without doing anything. 

So, my dear friends, these are my spiritual musings, life impressions and inspired ramblings from the south of Italy.  I had no idea when I got here that I would experience such an internal work over.  It is still in process and we'll see where it leads.  Of one thing I am sure:  My life is changing, I am changing, and this is a good thing!

Geographically, I am very close to the Middle East.  My only source of news is limited internet access and my friends.  I don't need to see the news to feel the unrest.  I feel it!  It is real.  I cannot even comment on anything over there because anything I say would be ignorant since I really am not informed at all.  I will, however, share something I wrote about two weeks ago.  I was listening to a song called, "At the Same Time" and the following was inspired.


Think of all the hearts beating in the world
At the same time
Think of all the faces and the stories they could tell
At the same time
Think of all the eyes looking out into this world
Trying to make some sense of what we see
Think of all the ways we have of seeing
Think of all the ways there are of being


Poetic lyrics that usually conjure positive images for me.  Recently, they've echoed through my mind just like the church bells that echo through the village.  I think of all the people on this planet and the billions of experiences happening at this very moment, all at the same time.  Last week, while on a bus ride back to the village, I glanced over and noticed a beautiful girl sitting across the aisle from me.  I would guess that she was probably 10 years of age.  Just beyond her, through the windows, I could see the majestic mountains against the deep blue sky.  It was a peaceful and serene scene.  But quickly, my thoughts changed.  Suddenly, I wondered, "How many girls just like her, are being killed in Lebanon or Israel?  How many girls, just like her, have been killed, and are being killed, at the same time in Iraq, or anywhere else in the world, for that matter?"  I realized that not too far from my peaceful and serene scene, violent wars were raging.  I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like to suddenly, and unexpectedly, have a missile hit my bus.  My life, along with the lives of many others, would be blown to pieces.  While my trained response would be, "Change your thoughts!" I knew that those thoughts were not creating my reality but, instead, were a compassionate response to a reality already existing for millions of people.  Today, I refuse to allow myself to be removed from the pain and suffering around me.  Instead, I much rather be moved by it and allow it to teach me to embrace my humanity and engender an empathic response.  I have no answers.  I'm not even sure I know what the right questions are.  But one question that has occurred to me is, "What if earth is a place where aggression is supposed to be played out?" 

Who knows?  I certainly don't.  I just stand believing that tomorrow will come, until the time it doesn't.  But, until that time, I live and breathe passionately, with a full heart; reaching out to other humans and inspiring them to do what makes their heart sing.

Bless you and bless our precious world

Love, Daniel

---

July 21, 2006

Badolato, Italy

Here I am in Badolato, the very south of Italy, in an 11th century medieval village, perched on a mountain top, overlooking the Ionian Sea.  Badolato, whose name is said to mean "Allah is here" in Arabic, was founded in 1080 by the first Duke of Calabria's, Norman conqueror Roberto Guiscard.


Sunrise from the bedroom balcony

What has brought me to this place? 
What are these invisible threads that weave our lives together? 

Is it coincidence?  Is it divinely appointed?  Or, is it self-created -
Just another manifestation of my many desires? 
Is it any one of these or a combination of all of these? 

These questions run through my mind as I sit alone, or "solo" as the waiter calls it, on the terrace looking out at a sweeping view of Badolato and the sea.  The rolling hills are filled with olive and fig trees and acres of grape vines that will eventually ripen and become wine.  This is wine country and it is very common here for the people to make their own wine.  I watch the ocean fade into the grey blue sky that is turning to night.  The church bells ring, echoing through the village, signaling that it is 8:45 p.m.  I love the echo of church bells.  It reminds me of celebration.  The bambino at the table next to me stares and then mumbles something to his family.  The antipasti that's delivered to their table looks like a piece of art.   I do everything to resist the urge to turn around and investigate the rest of the dishes sitting on their table.  I discovered tonight that pepperoni is actually green bell pepper in Italian.  I am content with my pizza and wine.  I am more taken, however, with the view.


Badolato Village

Badolato is beautiful in a mysterious sort of way - ancient, quaint, deeply religious - there are thirteen churches in a village of 500 people - and is a part of, what is referred to as, the "Coast of Angels."  It even has a patron saint - Sant'Andrea. 

Yesterday, just to put things in perspective, I was in a building that was older than the United States.  One floor of the building was used as a Catholic school and we actually found report cards dating back to 1962, the year I was born, imagine that.  Domenico, the man responsible for revitalizing this village, now owns this building and wants to turn it into a hotel.  He has restored and refurbished 15 structures so far.  They are unique and charming and Domenico is very conscious of upholding the integrity of the village.

Badolato, with its rustic charm, is full of character, as well as, full of characters.  They seem to have been out in full force my very first morning here.  I was up at the piazza at Bar Degli Artesi, the local bar/café, sitting next to an English gentleman who starts his day off with a brandy instead of a cappuccino. I have since realized that he is not that uncommon.  Soon after, an Italian gentleman joined us, ordered a coffee, lit a cigarette and then proceeded to blast Italian music from his boom box that sat on his lap.  At that point, all conversations ceased, the Englishman went to the only other bar in the village, and I sat there trying to take it all in.  Luckily, I was escorted by Michelle, an American who has lived here for three years, and she explained the workings of the village.  Watching Italians engage in conversation is pretty amazing.  Every conversation is a near spectacle.  They compete to see who can talk the loudest and who has the most expressive hand gestures.  They have got to be some of the most animated people on the planet. (The Greeks are pretty comprable.) You know they are alive!  It is so refreshing to see people full of passion and zest. It can also be exhausting.  The next time someone accuses me of being "dramatic", I will suggest they take a trip to Italy. 

Here's some history of this place.  It's right off a CD rom that Domenico gave me:

Like many southern Italian towns, Badolato was a victim of emigration, largely abandoned during two major waves of flight: the first in the early twentieth century and the second after World War II. 

Badolatesi fled to, among other places, the United States, Canada, Argentina, Germany, Switzerland, and Australia, many leaving behind their homes with only whatever they could carry, never to return.

Because of this mass emigration, the population of Badolato Superiore now stands at about 500. 

The city had fleeting hope of a boom in 1997 when 825 Kurdish refugees landed on its shores. The community welcomed the Kurds as potential workers and young revitalizers of the old town.  The new immigrants are mostly gone now, though, either deported or having left for Germany, France, or Switzerland for work.

Badolato is now a largely abandoned village, but along with its rich history of perseverance, it also has marvelous centuries-old original structures waiting to be revitalized and an equally ready Badolatese population excited to meet their new visitors and neighbors.

Life is very simple here.  Everyone knows everybody by name.  I love all the old people.  Some of these people have never left the area.  Naturally, they stare at me and wonder where the hell I came from, but, that seems to happen no matter where I go.  What I respect about them is that they don't pretend they're not looking.  They just stare right at me.  It's quite alright.  I'm fated for this; it's happened my whole life.  I must admit that I do forget, sometimes, that there are places on the planet that don't see people like me.  Perhaps, the truth is, there are more places like this than I care to admit.  The mysterious part about all this is why I deliberately go to these places. 

Two doors down from me is this wonderful old woman named Anna Maria.  Michelle and I concur that she has bionic ears because as soon as we open our doors she opens hers just to see what's going on.  Finally, I started hollering, "Ciao, Anna Maria!"  We may as well greet each other, right?  The other day she brought me pears, tomatoes and fresh rosemary humbly wrapped in a paper napkin.  Too precious!

My body is relaxing into the rhythm of this ancient village.  It is a welcomed respite from the hectic life I know so well.  Last night I slept for 11 hours, and, it was not ambien induced.  I find myself very tired and wanting to nap a lot.  At one point, I wondered if they put sedatives in the food.  The vibe here is recalibrating my energetic system and slowing it down...which is a good thing.  I am easing in to the lifestyle. 

The Italian language is not easy for me.  The phrases don't seem to stick.  I find French much easier.  Perhaps that's because I had six years of it, taught to me by a French nun at St. Patrick School.  Finally, yesterday, I had to open up my Italian/English dictionary in order to converse with Antonio who was here to repair the air conditioner. 

On my way home from the restaurant last night, after doing the obligatory "Buonasera!" greeting to the old women sitting on the steps, they insisted on asking me questions in Italian.  What they really want to know is if I am married.  At that moment, I really wished I could converse in Italian and say, "Yeah, and his name is Michael."  I would love to see how they respond to that one.

I am settling in to my friend Carla's house very well.  I only wish she were here to cook for me.  Out of necessity, I am managing to prepare my own meals.  I do simple things like bruschetta, fruit salad, antipasto, sandwiches, etc.  It's not like you can buy prepared foods here.  There are only two restaurants and they are okay, at best - certainly not what I am used to.  But, I am traveling and the words of someone I met in Chile rings through my ears, "Daniel, you're traveling, be open to new experiences."  That has since become a personal mantra when I am on the road.  It has definitely helped melt some serious resistance in some places. 

I've just returned from the beach, mare in Italian.  What a beautiful experience.  The blue-green water is crystal clear. I thought I was imagining things when I saw what appeared to be gold glitter sparkling in the water. To my amazement, I was not imagining it at all.  There really is gold glitter that sparkles in the sea here.  It comes off of the pebbles on the ocean floor.  It's magical!  Pure magic!

As I was flying down here from Dusseldorf last week, I looked out the window at the beautiful Alps and realized life is pretty damn fabulous right now.  It's hard to imagine that there are two wars raging in the Middle East.  I also realized, a few days ago, that I have never been so geographically close to a war.  I am in the Mediterranean and just a stones throw from the two wars.  Intense to think about.  Why are humans still so barbaric?  It's so sad. 

The other day on one my walks I thought of all the "innocent" people who die in wars and then I wondered, "Are innocence and guilt illusions?  Are they just egoic mind constructs?"  Whatever it is, I do feel very sad for all the people who die or get hurt by no fault of their own.  It seems tragic.  

In spite of all of that, my heart is full of gratitude.  I am very grateful for this time of solitude and peace.  I have left behind my everyday routines and distractions.  I will spend this time in deep self-reflection, excavating my interior in a new way, searching the archives of my mind, and organizing my thoughts in a way in which I can formulate a story.  If I'm lucky and creative enough, not to mention brave and honest, my story will be intriguing, heartfelt, courageous and passionate.  Wish me well.

In the meantime, take a moment for yourself, in silent self-reflection, and feel whatever you are feeling. It's okay.  It's all okay in its own msyterious way.   Allow whatever you are feeling  to be there in whatever way, shape or form, and just be present with it.

Life is what it is, you are what you are.  So be it.
There is magic in the moment.

Love, Daniel

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July 7, 2006

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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June 1, 2006