zeroinspiration.com

We understand the ails of humanity can largely be contributed to our own lack of connectedness. Much—if not all—the strife we experience, whether through crime, war, abortion, disease, environmental concerns, socioeconomic unrest, prejudice, hatred and fear—boils up from a well of disconnectedness and identity. It is in the seeing of the world as separate from ourselves that we come to learn (and teach) abuse; both self-abuse and the abuse of other living creatures, including the living system that sustains us all—the Earth. Without a concrete sense of connectedness with others and the world, we naturally begin to foster and define an identity for ourselves. At first—as infants and young children—this is done for us by our parents, grandparents and the other adults around us. As children, our parents choose our name, our clothing, our diet and a myriad of other experiences based upon their own preferences. Their preferences are a result of a complex matrix of conditions and experiences that have resulted from their own lives which were—in no small way—crafted by the adults around them as they grew up.  [As we grow older, we adopt this role of crafting a persona and we tend to do this rather unconsciously.]

On and on the cycle continues. Parents influencing their children, the children grow up, become parents themselves and pass their own influences on, and on, and on (for better or for worse.) Each generation goes on passing (or works to avoid passing) the sins and favors of the generation before. In Eastern tradition, this is what is meant when it is said a son takes on the sins (or the karma) of his father and forefathers. We are talking about a way of being and thinking that is passed on from generation to generation.

Like the energy shared among celestial bodies, sometimes—whether by your own power or as a result of a key event—we may break free of the gravitational pull of this ancestral energy, but our direction is still grossly influenced by our beginnings. This is especially true the closer we are to our point of origin (birth). As we move away from our perceived beginning, however,

1. we become more able to consciously choose our direction, and
2. the courses we set grow more attainable as we continue to refine our heading by orders of degrees.

In the event we choose to completely change direction (whether by conscious decision or inspired through a life-changing event), we establish a new course and drive toward that, but we do so with greater wisdom (assuming we learn from our experiences upon having them.)

In this way, not only are we connected to our parents, our parents’ parents and the lines of ancestry that proceeds them, but so too are we the direct ascendants of our own lineage, paying forward the writing on our own walls onto that of our children, their children and their children’s children. On and on it goes.

Extend this now—not only to our blood relations—but to all the people we come into contact with on a daily basis; such as our friends, coworkers, associates and acquaintances. Extend this to the people we meet on the street, the people we share the road with, the people we serve and whom serve us for the briefest of instances, whether we are staying at a hotel for a single night or checking out a book at the library or purchasing groceries at the city market.

Think about this for a moment. Have you ever had anyone do something unexpected for you? Some random act of kindness? I once had a client gift me with a free hotel room in Chicago. As a travel agent, Lynn knew I had collected quotes for a surprise trip for my wife months prior, but I had pulled back from making reservations because I had hit a number of road blocks in deciding how to get there. I had tabled the idea and about two to three months later, Lynn approached me with the offer of a free room at the Embassy Suites in the heart of downtown Chicago. She said she “had some rooms open up.” It was a wonderful offer that came out of the blue and it was enough to rekindle the idea of treating my wife to a weekend in Chicago. I hired our nanny for the weekend and my wife and I hit the museums, gallery and soaked up some of the sights and sounds of this wonderful city. It was marvelous! To show our appreciation, I sent Lynn a gift certificate to a local up-scale restaurant upon our return.

Conversely, have you ever been the recipient of someone’s ire while driving? How did that make you feel? Do you still remember the experience? Myself, I have multiple stories here, however we’re not going to get into those, as that’s not where we want to put our focus. Suffice it to say, it’s likely we remember the little random transgressions, right? How do you react when they happen? Do you react to anyone differently afterward? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you easily shrug off the negative experience and don’t even tell anyone about it. Or, maybe you become so charged by the transaction you share it with anyone who will listen. If you share the story, are you telling those people a positive, uplifting story? Do you think they will leave your presence feeling inspired and uplifted?

Now, am I saying you should never share your bad experiences or misfortunes with others? No, I’m not saying that. Among those we should be able to lean on, counselors are professionally trained to listen to stories upon stories of hurt and misfortune and then shed these stories rather than allow themselves to become burdened with the collective weight of them. With varying degrees of success, they do this. Those who aren’t as good at clearing and recharging their energy on a frequent basis usually end up finding another line of work. Why should this be? Aren’t they separate from their patients? Ah, well, there’s the conundrum. How do you help heal someone while remaining disconnected from them? I would offer it’s nigh impossible.

There is a Hawaiian method of healing called Ho’oponopono. This method is the exact opposite of distancing yourself from another with the intent to heal them from afar. In fact, Ho’oponopono says a problem doesn’t present itself to you (even if it’s in the form of someone else’s problem) unless you’re part of the problem! By agreeing to take 100 percent responsibility for the problems that cross our paths, we now no longer seek to heal or correct the other person as if there was something wrong with them. Instead, we turn inward and ask Divinity to heal that which is within ourselves that has caused the misalignment within them.

Where is this on the “connectedness spectrum”? Is this connected or disconnected thinking? I would offer this is extremely connected thinking. In taking 100 percent responsibility for the ailments and disharmony we see in the world, we take the first step toward healing them. What is the first step in any recovery program? It is to acknowledge we have a problem. Only through owning the problem are we able to then right the condition we seek to correct. Additionally, within these same recovery programs, notice the submission to a higher power. “Let go and let God,” you’ll hear. There is a common understanding across most religions, institutions of healing and recovery programs that we are not alone. In fact, we can turn to Divinity and—with Divine countenance and direction—find ourselves as co-authors of the solution we seek. The first step for attaining what we seek then (be it health, wealth, or happiness for ourselves or others) is to first come to terms with the fact we are part of the problem.

Second, we must realize we will accomplish little on our own. Indeed, it is the connecting with our dreams, our loved ones, our patients, our clients, our healing, our abundance, our joy and our own inner Divinity that we may hope to achieve any of it. Anyone who builds a dream into reality, be it a new company, a lifestyle or any other worthy endeavor, must start with connecting with the ideal in mind. We affect the universe around us in three ways: thought, word and deed.

I once heard someone say that it doesn’t matter what your beliefs are while they rattle around in your head because—until they are evinced through word or deed—they don’t matter. I would respectfully disagree with this. Through the study of quantum physics and other means, we have proven thoughts have power to alter physical matter (see Emoto’s work with water crystals.)

In the documentary “What the Bleep are We?”, the topic of physical reality is discussed. We know that all matter is made up of molecules and the space between the molecules. We also know that the difference between matter in the form of a gas, liquid or solid is negligible, being defined merely by the difference in frequency by which they vibrate. Additionally, the space between these molecules is more than a little. For instance, if you took a hydrogen atom and zoomed in until the proton in its nucleus was the size of a grain of sand, the electron orbiting the nucleus would be over half a mile away, held in orbit by nothing but an electrostatic force field. Most of everything you experience as physical reality is made up of empty space. That includes the floor you stand on, the chair you sit in, the clothes you’re wearing, the body you move with and the food you put in it; everything.

We are not our body. We are not the clothes we wear, nor the car we drive, nor the place we live nor the place where we were born. We are not the job we have or don’t have. We are not our things. Even our emotions are temporary; we’re certainly not them either. So, what are we then? I might offer we just simply are. Or, more appropriately, you may say to yourself, “I am.”

“I am” is ubiquitous.

“I am” is complete connectedness.

“I am.”

Connected.

“There are two mistakes that can happen along the road to truth–not going all the way and not starting”
~The Buddah.

I recently met a young man who is actively seeking a career in motivational speaking. As he and I were talking, it quickly became clear we agreed on a good number of points ranging from public speaking, to personal development, to our approach to life, and so on. In that brief exchange, the only thing we seemed to disagree upon was our approach to knowing who God was. The young man stated he didn’t want to invest time in figuring out the unknowable. That’s fine, I thought; that’s just where he’s at.

Following that conversation, I questioned myself, however. After all, doesn’t it sometimes feel like an exercise in futility when we begin to try and understand God and the nature of Divinity? What’s more is, who is to say we’re even right when we think we’ve hit upon a truth!? How do we know? Can we?

Well, it was here I arrived at my deep inner desire to know God and to know my own nature–and the nature of all things, as a result. For me, it all begins with knowing God. Know God and all else will be revealed. Through knowing God, we will know how the stars and planets and universe work. Through knowing God, we will know the why’s and how’s of the world around us. We will understand the seasons, evolution and the life and death of it all. We will understand why our parents, teachers, priests, leaders, family and friends were who they were. We will understand who we are. We will know why we are.

Albert Einstein says, “I want to know how God thinks. The rest is just details.” For me, quite often, it’s the details I get caught in. It’s the details I allow to weigh me down. It’s the details to which I attach myself. It’s the day-to-day grind, the high’s and low’s, the drama and fantasy of life; that’s the stuff I find myself focusing much of my attention and energy upon. That is the roller-coaster I step off when I slow down, take time for myself and look quietly inward. And it’s in those moments where I feel closest to God.  In the silence and calmness. In the “just being”.

Second to this, for me, is the sharing of insights of a spiritual nature. When I have a deep, powerful, connected conversation that raises both the other person and myself, I feel ecstatic! Thrilled! I’m back on the roller-coaster, sure, but it’s a great place to be in that moment! It feels inspired, God-centered and whole. In Matthew 18:20, Christ says, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am.” Have you ever felt this phenomenon? I do it all the time now and–as I speak more about Divinity–more people come up to me to share their own experiences. On top of that, the more of these conversations I have, the more I see Divinity’s Presence in the world around me. And, the more aware I am of Divinity around me, the more centered in Divinity I feel.

Epilogue: After my counseling session with Dr. Christopher today, I was walking out of the community church where these meetings are held. The building is set up in such a way one can access the conference area downstairs or the classrooms upstairs without ever seeing the chapel. In fact, I had never seen the chapel before this afternoon, having apparently walked past it several dozen times. On my way out today, however, I looked up and noticed the printing over a doorway that leads down a darkened hall. What I noticed for the first time were the symbols “Α” and “Ω”; the statement that God is the Alpha and the Omega–the Beginning and the End. I saw blue light coming from a room down the hall, so I followed it and discovered the large, empty chapel. The blue light was from the stained glass that lined the walls. The chapel was modest, even down to simple wooden chairs for the clergy, saving the ornate for the massive set of organ pipes that filled the front wall. I stopped for a moment to soak in the stillness, then walked to the front and sat down in the third pew from the front. There I sat in silence for a bit. I considered the contents of the altar, where stood a simple metal cross and a bible, displayed open, upright and facing the congregation. I stood, genuflected, and approached the altar. This was the first line I read:

Psalms 27:8 – When Thou saidst, “Seek ye My face,” my heart said unto Thee, “Thy face, LORD, will I seek.”

And so I will.

Question: If you believe God is limitless, where does that leave you?

Answer: In line with the Divine. The notion that we are separate from God, that we have to appease or fear God, that we are not God, is a fallacy. If we are not God, then there is something God is not. If there is something God is not, there are limits to God.

Do you believe God has limits? Or do you believe in God’s infinite love, infinite nature, infinite connectedness and abundance? Meditate on this.

I believe God uses synchronicity and coincidence to speak to us. I don’t believe God’s Word has been encapsulated and is therefore limited to the pages of a single book. Of course, this opinion this may get me into trouble with some folks, however I have to confess I see evidence of Divinity at work everywhere, all the time. To be more direct, I believe God is in everything, everywhere–otherwise there is a limit on God, is there not?

To this last point, years ago I dove into a passionate theological debate with the older brother of a very dear friend of mine. Actually, the brother happened to be a father; a ordained Roman Catholic priest. I told him my understanding of God-Divinity included omnipresence; God is everywhere. He agreed–at first. Then, holding up a piece of silverware, I took him to, “God is this fork.” That did it.

“Nonono. God is not the fork, but only through God can the fork exist,” he said.

I said, “Well then there is something God isn’t, and therefore God has limits, and frankly, I just don’t believe that’s true.”

Around and around we went, each trying to convince the other. It was a wonderful bout of theological tug-of-war. Our other friends in our dinner party would occasionally listen in, but none wanted to commit to getting messy with us.

My priest friend agreed God was limitless and all powerful, but we never reached an agreement that God’s limits didn’t stop at the surface of that fork. I’m sure I ended up on his prayer list after that.

Over the years, I have had the good fortune of ending up on many prayer lists. This usually happens–not often during the dark times in my life–but more when a friend feels I’m off in the bushes, spiritually. For instance, when my wife and I became pregnant with our first child, I was added to a prayer list or two, mostly because those who knew us figured we were heading toward a train wreck. At that time, we had only dated a month and a half and our nubile relationship had been fiery and tempestuous. In fact, my wife had fully intended to break up with me on the day she found out she was pregnant. We had a raging fight the previous evening, which climaxed in the slamming my front door as she left for her apartment across town. Alone, I paced the house trying to decide whether to call or not to call. After 10 minutes, I concluded I would call. I picked up the phone, dialed her number, and heard someone dialing the phone in my ear.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello,” I returned.

“Whoa. That’s creepy. I just picked up the phone–it never rang.”

(As she would confess later, she wasn’t calling me–she was calling her ex-fiancé, whom had only been her ex-fiancé for about two months. Do the math. Indeed, synchronicity seemed to have reached out and placed me in front of her. The timing was perfect. She told me had I called a moment before or a moment later, she would have refused to pick up the phone.)

I said I wanted to come over to her apartment to talk. She hesitantly agreed. (This was before years of counseling would teach me about the futility of pursuing during storms.)

Suffice it to say the face-to-face approach–while tensions were so high–did little to mend the rift between us that night. I eventually said the wrong thing and she asked me to leave amidst sobbing and tears.

[At this point in our story, you should know my wife had been recently told by a psychic friend she would be pregnant by the end of summer. This same friend had already correctly predicted the end to Grace's engagement (which had been met with incredulity,) so Grace was already watching for any incoming babies.]

The next morning marked the last day of summer that year. I believe it was September 21, 2004. I received a call at 7:30 that morning. She said, “There’s two lines.” I had no idea what she was talking about and she had not yet told me about this prediction. I thought for a moment she was referring to lines drawn in the sand. She was forced to clarify.

“I took a pregnancy test. There’s two lines.”

“Oh. I’ll be right over.”

By 7:45, I was sitting on the edge of her couch with the oracular “pee-stick” in my hands and what I saw confirmed it: two lines.

As I discovered, all sorts of thoughts rush in at a time like this. I hail from good, conservative Catholic stock. No doubt this pregnancy-out-of-wedlock would rock the family with scandal. I felt a number of things all at once. Among those feelings were astonishment, shame, alarm and budding resignation, in that order. As we talked about what to do next, the only thing that was clear in that moment was that I was going to be a father, God willing. Grace knew my staunch pro-life views and later would ask how I would have dealt with things had we not decided to stick together in the relationship, especially if she had not wanted to keep the baby. I told her I would have asked her to carry to full term and then I would have taken the child off her hands and made the best of being a single parent. She was apparently pleased by this.

We walked into work side-by-side that morning. Her apartment was only two blocks away from our office building. Throughout the day, we would email each other. At one point, we walked over to St. Mary’s cathedral, sat in the echoing silence and prayed. Afterward, we went outside and sat on the steps. It was that moment I think we decided to make a serious go of our relationship. We made plans to visit Target that evening and pick up a wonderful book called “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” Within a month, we also began seeing a professional counselor with the intent of working through our childhood junk so we might stabilize as a couple.

That was over five years and three kids ago. At the time of this writing, we’re pregnant with Number Four. We attended counseling for years, sometimes as a couple, but more often on our own. We’ve read books on parenting. We’ve watched shows on parenting. We’ve even taken a class on parenting. We love our children very much and are keenly aware of the herculean responsibility that comes along with bringing them into this world. We try our best and we try not to beat ourselves up when we fall short (and we do.)

Would I have ever seen my life going down this path? No. But just as I believe God is the fork, I also believe God is the journey and while I may not have foreseen this particular fork in the road, I certainly see Divine Design all through it.

Thank you to all of those who have ever placed me on their prayer lists.

I think it’s working.

(Originally written as an email to my wife on Sunday evening, Independence Day, 2004. We had just begun dating.)

Grace,
The church experience was like Jim and Tammy Fae meets the great Southern Baptist Revival. Wow. You know how I told you I had heard the service could last as long as three hours? Try three and a half. At first, I thought they were being hypnotized. I was watching for it, and indeed, I could see some techniques, but they had enough breaks that I don’t think that was the case. ;o]

First, everyone was very friendly and “God bless you” was the phrase of the day. I was an obvious stranger to their church for two reasons:

1. I was white.
2. I didn’t fall in line with the dress code of a dark suit (for the men. The women all wore white. I was glad I didn’t wear jeans. I kept thinking throughout the service, “What a beautiful group of people.”) The fact that I didn’t fall into this template gained me more attention, I think.

Everyone was very warm and welcoming, without being pushy. I didn’t see my friend at first, but I ran into one of her friends whom I see at her cube every now and again. We all mulled around outside the ‘auditorium’ (aside from the sign outside and some lettering over the theater doors, there was no way to tell this building was supposed to be a church.. no crosses anywhere) until they opened the doors (think Wharton Center.) I found a seat about midway down and Nateea saw me as she took her seat a few rows from the front. She motioned, asking if I wanted to come up there. I declined. She motioned again, asking me if I wanted her to come back there. I declined again. I’m glad I did. I think I might have slowed her down. Besides, my position made me more accessible for what was to come later.

The celebration started with singing. And swaying. That led to more singing. And clapping. And soon dancing in the aisles (their band was fantastic!) Then more singing. Then they paused to pass around communion, which they kindly asked that visitors or the non-saved not partake in (the Catholic church does the same thing.. it really bothers me.. I believe Christ intended his Body and Blood to be for everyone.. not a private club of initiated.) I was somewhat glad I got out of it, as the host was wrapped in cellophane packed on top of a little plastic shotglass of grape juice. Then they ate and drank and sang some more and had some folks be a-healed with the laying on of hands (this is where the gals usually swoon from the power of the Holy Spirit and their anointing.)

Finally, at some point (around Hour Two?), the pastor started to preach. His big message for today? “It’s done.” Whatever problems you’re facing, turn it over to the Lord, because it’s done. Impossible with men, but in the Lord, it’s already done. Funny. That’s been the message that’s been getting pounded into me for about a month now. Then the pastor asked for folks to come up front to get saved or receive a blessing. By now, I’m completely resigned to the idea that I’ll probably be up there, based on the message and the timing. Pastor spoke of acts of faith and stepping towards God. “For every one step towards God you take, He takes two,” Pastor Owens said.

If there was any doubt in my heart about going up there, some guy stepped up next to me and acted like, “Hey, how you been? Oh, wait, sorry–I thought I knew you from work. Say, you’re here today, would you like to go up and receive the pastor’s blessing?” (Real smooth.) “Sure,” I said. He didn’t have to ask, I was going up anyways, but I took this as an obvious sign. I was quickly passed up to the front where I met a young, sophisticated young man named Lacy, dressed in a Don Johnson suit. He reminded me of a thinner, African-American version of my Uncle Craig. Lacy asked me if I knew God and if I prayed and if I was saved. I said, yes, I try to know God and yes, I pray every day (twice a day these days) and when he asked me if knew God again, I finally said, “I’m Catholic.”

Grace, you should have seen it; it was a real conversation-stopper. Apparently, the Catholics are the Green Berets of the religious world, because at that point, he stopped trying to save me. Lacy gave me a hug, stood in back of me with his hands on my shoulders and faced me towards the preacher (who was still fervently preaching) as a couple gals were brought alongside. Lacy kept praying as the preacher’s helpers determined there were four of us to deal with: three sobbing, repentant women and me (the Catholic,) who was just grinning and standing stiff as a board the whole time. Starting with the gal on the far end, the pastor began anointing us with oil, complete with laying on of hands.

Interesting thing happened here. He got to the one pretty young gal standing next to me and took his time on her (she was really a wreck, but quietly so.. I could actually feel her pain radiating off her.) The pastor was going on about letting go of her unfortunate past, releasing the devil, releasing demons and then–this was weird–at the same time he said, “Oh, there he went!”, I thought I smelled something. There was a waft of something slightly rotten and sulfuric, then it was gone.

When he finished up with her, I was next. Got the dab of oil on the forehead, a prayer I become closer to God, then we knelt (‘cept for demon girl, who wasn’t responding much at this point.. they would give her a “You’re SAVED!” starter-kit of some kind after we went back to our seats.) Pastor then led us through a public confession (repeat-after-me style.. ..you just asked me yesterday when the last time was that I went to confession.)

After we were free to go, I turned and found myself heading down a line of guys who each came up and gave me a hug. Once I was all the way through, Lacy led me back to my original seat. He wondered why I had gone up. I used the pastor’s words: “Renewal” and “It’s done.” Satisfied, he smiled and thanked me for visiting.

We had a little multimedia presentation on the big screens, pastor blew a horn into the microphone and everyone clapped as the July birthdays in the congregation were called out to gospel music. [Insert random singing and dancing here.] Met up with Nateea, we picked up her kids from “Kids’ Church” (in one of the rooms down the hall from the auditorium) and she drove me to my car while I chatted with the kids about what they learned at church.

I thought about what your reaction to the whole thing would have been and I decided I was glad you weren’t there. You most likely would have pulled me into the aisles to dance along with most everyone else. I think you would have enjoyed it immensely.

Oh, and my odometer as I pulled up into the parking lot read 59695. Yeah. No kidding.

*whew!* After this, I went to hang out with the family, ate dinner, skipped rocks on my folks’ pond while the other two guys fished (had to say “No, I don’t want to fish” three times,) played with my nephew, watched movies (I had forgotten how wonderful “Gladiator” was,) then drove home and am now writing you. Full day.

[…]

Sleep tight, hon. Sweet dreams.
M

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now 37 years old. I looked at myself in the mirror yesterday morning and saw man in a gray, pinstriped three-piece suit and an unshaven face looking back at me. My heart was breaking a little at the time and I asked myself if this is what a mid-life crisis feels like.

There is a part of me that is still getting comfortable with the label of ‘man’ as opposed to ‘young man’ or ‘boy’. There was an older gentleman with whom I shared an elevator for a few moments as I was leaving the hospital earlier in the week. He wore a long black coat, buttoned, a red scarf, white hair and glasses. I was in his presence for less than a ten seconds but it was enough time for me to feel a difference between us. To me, he felt established in his career, established in his life, affluent and possibly influential. I considered my own sense of self in that moment and noticed I felt considerably less so.

Yesterday, when I looked in the mirror and saw the businessman looking back at me, I felt the label of ‘man’ and considered how alien it felt. For the past decade plus, I’ve felt as if I was in my early 20′s (and I certainly was not a man during my early 20′s!) I saw a man yesterday and marveled at him briefly. Then, to help convince myself of this mirage, I considered a number of things:

• I’m 37 years old. Yes, I know that’s young. Yes, I slowed my physical aging a couple years ago (I think I’ll live until I’m 189 or so. I think one of my cats is doing the same thing.)
• I am a married father with four kids under the age of 5.
• I have owned and operated a web design business for years now. I’ve been working with web pages for over 16 years.

Obviously, none of these items make a man a man, but these are the things that came to mind as my reflection stared back at me.

As for the sense of overwhelming confusion and aimlessness that has me wondering if I’m experiencing a “mid-life crisis”, I’ve been dealing with that now for the last month and a half and figured it was on its way out until it crept back in yesterday. For my birthday, my wife purchased us a visit to a massage therapist and after my time on the table (it was the first massage that made me understand why people get massages) I was feeling much better. By the evening, I felt as if I was in a healing hangover of sorts, even ending my workout after five minutes when I discovered how out-of-step and uncoordinated I was. Yesterday morning, I awoke with a short fuse and decided I would not attend my usual Tuesday networking group, choosing to stay home and work on paperwork until my next meeting later that morning. Sensing my intolerance and abruptness, my wife approached me gently as I sat at my desk and by the end of that short conversation I had broken down and cried.

I guess you could say I’m frustrated. My patience with my web work is waning and turning into avoidance and
resentment, even in the face of increasing volume. In contrast, I found myself looking forward to a speaking engagement that was scheduled for next month. When I received the news on Sunday this opportunity had fallen through, I think I was disappointed–not because I felt I missed a good marketing opportunity–but because I felt it was practice for the day when I would be out there speaking about matters of the spirit and really helping people. (This is a revelation as I write this.)

So yesterday morning, I found myself at my desk feeling listless and lost, not knowing which direction to move in to begin on the path to realizing my Perfect Day. I have a ton of web work to do, I feel, and have been feeling overwhelmed at the growing list of to-do’s. I’m feeling a little better now, but suffice it to say I know I’m going through something. My wife says I’m in a transformation and going through growing pains. Maybe. Maybe I’m just wigging myself out too. Maybe it’s the alignment of the planets. Maybe it’s male PMS. Maybe I’m just plain tired. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I want my clarity back. I used to have a vision for myself and my web work. Now, when I picture my Perfect Day, I don’t even see my web work. This is one of my points of consternation, I think.  I’ve been so sure on my direction, for so long, to now not see where I’m going is making my current efforts feel empty and meaningless. Before, it was always moving from one site to the next, one customer to the next, knowing that I was building something and helping people. Now? Now, I feel like things are taking too long to move. I’m feeling like I’ve been working for too hard, for too long, and I desperately want to relax and to know at the end of the day, I don’t have to do the next project or the next thing. I’ve come to a place where my work is now more ‘have to’ and less ‘want to’, it seems.

So, how do I get back to ‘want to’, then? And when I get back to ‘want to’, what will it be that I want, if not the web work that has occupied my dreams for the past decade and a half? I’ve asked the question, but apparently I’ve been too dense lately to hear the answer because it’s not being read through my fog of un-clarity. So I’ll tap on it, clean on it, write about it, pray about it and maybe–just maybe–it will come to me.

Ho’oponopono (the abridged version here) says to let go, let God and clean, clean, clean, using a number of mantra-esque prayers and tools. The practice of setting your intent says to focus on what you want, feel good in that and remove your focus from that which you don’t want. Is there a balance to be stricken between the two? Do we let go and give it all to Divinity to direct, essentially giving up creative license (and therefore responsibility?) for our own lives? Were we not given the ability to create so we could join God in the process of co-creation? Or do we move in a direction, based on desires–worldly or inspired–and intentionally (or accidentally) manifest along the way? I’ve seen both work, but when coming from a place of confusion (as I’m apparently choosing in this moment,) would it not make sense to give it up to God until I find my desire again? Actually, yes, maybe that’s what I need to do. Maybe I just need to sit in the confusion for a bit and find peace with it. Let go of the anxious feeling of being unmotivated and derailed, and simply be okay with treading water for a bit. A mentor suggested this to me yesterday and I feel she may be right.

I guess that’s what I’ll do. I’ll return to patience with the process and take time to breathe for now. I’ll place this post before it goes another day and I’ll do my best to relax. I have so many great things going on in my life right now, I’ve got plenty I can focus on until I find my direction again.

Amen.

p.s.- Interestingly, an opportunity to speak at a local church presented itself yesterday; two days after the previous opportunity blew up. Obviously, this will be a different talk; less web-centric and more “spiritual journey“.

God uses our work to elevate others. Consider the work of teachers like Wayne Dyer and Stephen Covey. You only discover these materials when it’s time for you to receive the messages they contain.

Joe Vitale lamented this phenomenon as he studied ho’oponopono. He felt his earlier work with setting intent was somehow flawed and–for a moment–he wanted to take it all back. He soon realized those earlier efforts were fine they way they are because they resonate with people who are ready to receive them.

Once you view your efforts as a stepping stone along the path and not the destination, you’ll find much more peace with teaching and writing.

(Originally written 09/18/07)

Tonight I had a session with Francine.  I started off by telling her how bankruptcy proceedings went.  All in all, I would say they went pretty well.  Everything was short and too the point, as the courtroom was packed with stoic, glass-eyed transients waiting to have their credit reduced to ashes.

While I was waiting for my turn, I began thinking about bankruptcy and all that had transpired to bring me to that exact moment and place in my life.  I emotionally flatlined on this thought, initially; I was—after all—next in line and wanted to keep my head clear.  It wasn’t until I was shuttled through the barrage of brief questions, made nice with my lawyer, and stepped into the echoing air of a very empty St. Mary’s Cathedral that I really started to feel the weight of my position in life.

I guess I just feel like I’m not enough.  I worry about being a good enough father to my children.  What kind of example am I?  Am I giving them enough attention?  Am I teaching them the right things?  Am I doing all that I can to give them every advantage in this world?  Will they turn out to be well-rounded, happy people?

I worry about being enough for my wife.  I worry about giving her enough time and then, on top of that, enough attention; enough romance—sometimes simply just being man enough for her.  She deserves to be loved, but will I have enough love in me to give?  Is there enough to go around?

I wonder about being enough in the business world to succeed.  After all, this most recent year seemed to leave a trail of broken deadlines and eroded relationships with clients and contractors alike.  By all appearances, I’m good at fooling people on the front end, but once they’ve signed contracts, eventually things unravel.  It was pretty consistent in 2006.  Deadlines or obligations fell down.  Contractors—both locally and overseas—fell down; what could I have done to prevent that?  (Funny, as I write this, I realize that the name of the overseas contractor is also the name of the music CD to listen to today.  I never played it, but it’s sitting next to me on the desk.)

Ultimately, I feel like I’ve been struggling for a very long time.  The Holy Grail I’ve been striving for?  “Financial independence,” I tell myself.  “Security.”  “Freedom.”  Noble trappings, certainly, but how successful have I been, for all the blood, sweat and tears over the years?  In real estate investing?  In numerous the numerous failed or small-potatoes web design company start-up’s?  I feel like I work incredibly hard and have incredibly little to show for it.  Sure, I have stories.  (I haven’t figured out the way to pay the bills on those yet, but I’m sure I’ll try it for a while at some point.)   I’ve had massive financial losses.  I’ve had evictions, foreclosures, and meetings with lawyers (who sometimes conveniently barter for web work.)  I’ve had business partners go bad (and eventually die) when they discovered cocaine.  I’ve had trusted salespeople try to steal my clients away to the competition.  I’ve had tours of my income properties with the local police department as they searched for drug paraphernalia.  I’ve had properties destroyed by tenants.

So, after all this, I guess I’m wondering, “Where’s mine?”  I have a beautiful family, I have my health, and all my friends and family are around me.  I am blessed; I know this.  So, why can I not be still?  Why don’t I just lay in front of the TV after the kids have gone to bed (okay, some nights I do) and go to bed at a reasonable hour like everybody else I know?  Will all my striving eventually lead to something of substance for me, my family, my clients (and dare I say it, the world), or is everything I touch destined to be a slew of work that gets set down in a year or two, in lieu of the next effort?  Labor-intensive and as temporary as footprints in the sand; why do I bother at all?

Such was my mindset as I drove home after praying to God that—if I wasn’t on the right track—may correction and redirection be swift—as in, by the end of the week.  My wife, no doubt sensed this from across town, and called, proceeding to give me the best rah-rah speech I have ever received.  Grace told me about how thankful she was that it was me she hooked up with.  She drew a comparison to her past almost-marriage and pointed to us as the source of aliveness and growth.  She recognized my hard work and she told me she was proud of me.  She told me she loved me even when she was piping-hot mad at me.  She told me I was a good father.  I cried quietly so she wouldn’t hear.

I told Francine all of this.  I also told her how I went to church this weekend.  Not a Catholic church—a non-denominational; the “church with all the flags”, Mt. Hope.  There is some prologue to this church we’re going to skip for right now, but suffice it to say I wanted a connection here.  I knew they had a pastor who was a talented speaker and I didn’t want to have a homily read to me like I experienced last time I went to my Catholic church.  I wanted a message.

Pulling into the parking lot, I noticed the street number was 202.  I told Francine about my infatuation with xyx patterns, which was apparently new ground for us.  Upon parking, I walked past a van that obviously had the distinct pleasure of belonging to a very enthusiastic couple (Amber + Josh, it said) who had just gotten married.  The windows were covered in soap graffiti.  One window in particular held an image that was out of place for a church parking lot on Sunday morning.  A heart had been drawn over, being mischievously converted into a pentagram that pointed down.  I walked in anyways.

Once the service started, it was three long, energizing songs, followed by the taking up of the collection.  (Isn’t this supposed to happen AFTER the sermon?)  Well, the head pastor was there, but he introduced a visiting pastor who began to speak to putting your faith into action—in the form of tithing.  This wasn’t just any tithing—this was tithing to the church as the hand of God in the community.  This speaker had a great collection of statistics to back his argument up.  He spoke about how tithing has fallen considerably since 2002.  He gave the breakdown across denominations.  He pulled from the Bible to illustrate the error of our ways.

It was during this tirade that I happened to look over at a young couple sitting two benches in front of me (I don’t think they’re referred to as “pews” when the celebration is held in an auditorium.)  The guy was wearing a beige polo, which wasn’t notable, but the logo—usually located on the left breast of a polo shirt—was on the shoulder.  What’s more, the embroidered logo was a little red devil, clutching his gut with laughter.

That was enough for me.  I got up and left, mid-sermon.  A young man with a pronounced limp hobbled from his station by the door to open it for me.  I thanked him and felt better once I was on the road home.