Our Best Life Now

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Faith

I've been sick with Mono, and out of work for almost 2 weeks now, with no return date in sight. It wouldn't really be a big deal if it weren't for the fact that on Monday I ended up going to the emergency room - I just knew something wasn't right.

Turns out my white blood cell count is very low. Of course, I'm sick, so one would assume that would mean my WBC would be high...

The point is, they're not there. They all up and left. Nobody knows why yet. And I'm scared. I'm not normally scared, but today I am.

Below is today's Daily Word. Although I'm having a difficult time embracing it now, I know that I will need to soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith
I invest my faith in unlimited goodness.

Mindful of my thoughts and expectations, I direct their creative power to that which is good, positive and constructive. Whenever I am tempted toward worry, fear or anything less than my highest good, I refocus my attention and consciously place my faith in God. God is everywhere present as love, protection, abundance and comfort.

With my faith placed in God, I live life from a spiritual foundation of strength, courage and optimism. I know the activity of God is at work in me, in my family, in my community and in the world. With clear and conscious intention, I exercise my spiritual faith. I invest my faith in goodness that has no boundaries, and I entrust my heart's desires to God.

Keep alert, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong.--1 Corinthians 16:13

Monday, February 28, 2011

Let Go

LET GO, LET GOD I let go of limits and let God's good expand. It is easy to let the world around us inform us of our potential for good. The television, the news, our friends and family all have opinions about the condition of the world and our life potential. Today I choose to let go of the influence of opinions. Whether limited thinking comes from outside of me or from within my own mind, I give it no power or attention. There is a divine creative power within me that is infinite potential. Without limits, I allow God's good to expand in my life. Gratitude fills me as my blessings come to mind. Each blessing is like a seed, ready to yield more love, more health and more prosperity. Released from limiting thoughts, divine ideas fill my life with God's good. Riches and honor come from you, and you rule over all.--1 Chronicles 29:12

Thursday, February 10, 2011

A message from Rev. Temple Hayes

This is the greatest moment that you and I have ever lived. We have never been better or greater or more alive than we are right now. You see, as long as we believe there was a better yesterday, or that tomorrow holds some sort of guarantee - we are missing out on the greatest moment we'll ever have, and that's right now. Right now is where we have the power to change our minds, to make a decision, to let go of something we no longer want. Because we truly are empowered individuals. Our intention is not to be all things to all people, but rather to teach or to set an example to others that through the Christ and the spirit of life within them they have the ability to do all things. Home is not a place that is just a physical location, but is the essence of a soul feeling at home within ones self, and your family feeling at home within their own being with the beliefs and values that so creates all that you are THIS is the greatest moment, it is the moment that we make a decision, right here and right now to claim our oneness and to be home. And so it is.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Moving from Victim to Victor

After experiencing a difficult time, my therapist said something that made a very big impact on my life. It such an obvious truth, and yet I was completely oblivious to it. After living a childhood full of painful experiences, my therapist says that I had “Fort Knox” around my heart. It’s not really something you think about when it’s something you have lived with your whole life. But it really got me thinking. I had let a few people through the high security, but each time someone “hurt me” I put up another wall.

Sounds safe, doesn’t it?

But what he said to me that day really got me thinking. Sure, I wasn’t letting in pain. I also wasn’t letting my hurt escape. I wasn’t letting in joy. I wasn’t letting in love. I wasn’t letting in joy. I protected myself from negative experiences, but was robbing myself of positive experiences. I was protecting myself from the possibility of pain from relationships (of any kind), and simultaneously keeping myself from experiencing the possibility of the AMAZING joy that life has to offer!

I wish I could say the path was easy, but it really wasn’t. Opening our hearts means moving out of our comfort zone… to the extreme! It means examining the areas that things make us feel uncomfortable, figuring out why and making different choices for ourselves.

I bet your first step will be just as simple, but not necessarily easy. It might even be obvious. My path to an open heart started with a hug. I’ve worked with my coworkers for 4 years, 60 hours a day… they are truly a second family to me. They often teased me because I wouldn’t let anyone hug me. I was the anti-hugger. After examining where the discomfort came from, I realized that it stemmed from my childhood. My mother had… issues. Without going into detail, she often forced me to hug her, or tell her that I loved her… after she’d verbally or physically abused me… to soothe her feelings.

That really stuck with me. But it was outdated. I was carrying around a situation that no longer existed, a pain that was in the past, and I was letting it negatively impact my NOW. I hugged someone at work. I won’t lie, I had a full blown panic attack. I almost threw up on her. But she needed it at that moment, and she almost cried. It was a really beautiful and tender moment. I won’t say that I suddenly knocked down Fort Knox, but it removed one brick. It was the beginning of a long journey.

What I didn’t expect, though… removing that brick allowed a little of the pain of my childhood abuse to escape, and it let in a little healing too.

It took me a while to be able to hug people on a regular basis, and I will still crumple to a mass of anxiety if someone I don’t want to hug tries to hug me. It was a start. J

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Coardboard Stories

A year ago, if you asked me this question, I would have said it was a great idea. In fact, I supported the panhandling ban in St. Petersburg. Although I didn’t vote for it, I didn’t want to look at them. I was tired of my daily drive home from work each day. Right off the interstate there were a group of homeless people that gathered behind the bushes and took turns on this one corner. And each and every day, without fail, there was a man or woman standing on this corner with that dreaded cardboard sign.

Each day I saw a person on that corner. And each time I saw that dreaded cardboard sign, a million thoughts ran through my head.

Why should they be getting handouts when I have to work for my money?

Why don’t they just get jobs?

Why should I give them MY hard earned money?

They’re probably going to just spend it on booze or drugs anyway.

I’m barely making it as it is, why should I support someone who can’t even be bothered to put in a day at work?

Maybe I could just spare a buck… eh, he’s probably a scammer.

His shoes look too nice to be homeless.

His socks are too white, he can’t possibly be homeless.

Oh look, he’s got food, I don’t need to give him anything.

I have too many bills, I can’t spare any money.

Someone should take care of this mess.

These people are so dangerous, someone should do something about this.

Each day my resentment grew. Each day I became angrier. I never did give one so much as a buck. And for a while, I actually became proud of not giving into their scams. I laughed at the people that were so gullible. I would look away, usually checking my phone for some “important” message (probably facebook or my text messages… so much for important). I would turn to my husband and talk, pretending like I didn’t see them. I would lock the doors, whether or not I was alone. Sometimes, I would take a different route, so I wouldn’t have to see them. At other times, I would stop my truck so far back they wouldn’t have time to get to me before the light turned green. And, ironically, I thanked God whenever the light stayed green long enough for me to scoot through without having to go through my daily ritual. Secretly, I felt intense guilt.

Does any of this sound familiar?

It might not.

Today, I sing a slightly different tune. I wished I’d voted against the ban.

A while back I ran an errand. I was right next to Publix, so I decided to stop in. I’m not really sure what drove me, but I followed where it lead me. I grabbed a package of brown paper bags, and a variety of non-perishable foods. When I got home, I packed the items into paper bags, and placed them on the counter. Where they sat for quite some time. I figured I could somehow will myself past my conditioning… that if I just gave them food, I could relieve my guilt without thinking they’d just go spend the money on booze. But somehow, I still couldn’t bring myself to give the bags to them. I still had such anger. I was in the Christmas spirit, so I’d even gone so far as to put Christmas cards in the bags. It was well past Christmas before I finally gave away my first one (cards removed, of course).

After I packed the bags, I got a copy of City Dharma. It’s a GREAT book. One I think everyone on the entire planet should read. If I could buy everyone a copy, I would. But I digress. About three-quarters of the way through the book I got to the chapter on homelessness, and I almost quit reading the book. But, I didn’t. And the day I finished that chapter, was the first day I gave away the first of many Hobo bags (what we now call them).

It was possibly one of the most profound moments in my life. All because I gave a brown paper bag to a panhandler.

So what in that book was so intense that it gave me courage that day, and consequently changed my life? To be honest, I can’t say it’s any one thing. However, there was one particular section in that chapter that stood out to me. Jeon spoke about a woman that’d essentially “ripped him off.” He’d given her $20 after an intense sob story. Some time later, he’d witnessed her producing the same story – ‘scamming’ someone else. This would make anyone mad, wouldn’t it?

Instead, from that $20 “lost”, not only did HE gain so much more, so has everyone that has read that story.

Although much of that chapter is fuzzy, I recall this particular story with vivid detail. I imagined myself on that busy sidewalk, and as that woman ran up to me, I felt such anger towards her, because I just knew she was lying. It was clearly a lie. In fact, I felt kind of angry at Jeon for being so gullible. He wasn’t awake at all! Then, when he recounts watching her run off after he asked if she was really homeless, something happened in my brain. No longer was I watching a con-artist. I watched a miserable, perhaps mentally ill, woman almost dance away. She was no longer a con-artist, she wasn’t a scammer, she was a woman, that somehow had touched a point in her life that was so far from peace, true joy, and love that she preyed on the KINDNESS of her fellow man.

So in a nutshell, here are a list of the realizations that made me give my first hobo bag.

1. Kindness has nothing to do with what the person does with it once it’s been given.

2. For a person to stand on a street corner and beg for money (even to drink), it requires a loss of their spirit.

3. If a person is a con-artist, then they have given up an even greater part of their spirit.

4. Every adult on that corner was at one point a child. That child had hopes and dreams that never once involved begging for food or money.

5. Most people that are asking for help, actually need it. And it doesn’t make sense to punish the multitude for a handful of scammers.

6. Each one of those people has a story, and a name. I didn’t need to give them much to acknowledge their humanity.

7. In fact, I didn’t need to give them anything. Most of the people that had gotten to that point in their life could benefit from simply a smile.

8. By disregarding another individuals humanity, in a way I was abusing my own. I was ignoring that part of me that felt guilt.

9. Compassion cannot be scammed.

10. We, as humans, fear being made fools.

So that day, my husband and I gave our first hobo bag. We gave him the bag, learned the man’s name. He thanked us profusely, and told us his story. I won’t ever forget him. He, and each and every person we have given a bag to has taught us something. We learned that we receive so much more in return than we give. And, if a person is a con-artist or scammer, the jokes on them. We now know the truth, that we’re not gullible, we’re just compassionate.

But, more than anything, we learned that regardless of the reason for the person begging… if we are on the other side of that cardboard sign, we are blessed. Whether they have connected with their darker nature so much that they would take advantage of another person’s kindness, they have a mental illness that keeps them from functioning in society properly, or they simply did not have family and friends they could lean on in a hard time… we are BLESSED. And to share even a moment of that blessing with someone less fortunate in any respect is one of the most beautiful experiences a person can have.

Religion

“There can be no peace in the world until there is peace between the religions.” – Hans Kung

When I was 17, I spent some time in British Guyana as a missionary. I didn’t know why at the time, but I was “called.” I thought I was called to be a missionary, but looking back on it, I believe I was “called” to BE witnessed to. It was an eye opening experience. To be honest, I didn’t actually ‘witness’ to many people. There were a great deal of catholic and protestant missionaries there at the time, and something just didn’t feel right. I didn’t understand what was happening then, but I felt an awakening in me. My experience was “doubt.”

As we drove through a small town, I noticed a small corner merchant that was pretty typical for the area. It wasn’t a lightning bolt moment, but I saw a nun walking down the street while simultaneously noticing the religious wares being sold at this little shop.

He was selling religion.

And as I watched the nun, I wondered to myself, “is my religion the right one?” I cannot remember if it was before this or after this that I witnessed to the only person I really recall witnessing to. She was Hindu, and she listened with curiosity. We talked for a while, and she informed me of her own religion, and I informed her why my God was a better God. I tried to sell her Jesus. She thanked me for taking the time to talk to her, and we parted ways. I felt pretty proud of myself at the time for having the courage to talk to her, but secretly… I think I was just killing time so I could sit in the air conditioning of this building. There were very few air conditioned buildings… and Guyana is HOT.

I often wondered why I vividly remembered that experience. There wasn’t anything particularly exciting about it. Sure I was nervous, but I wasn’t scared… so why do I remember so many tiny details of that moment?

I wish I could thank the nameless woman that spoke to me that day. She witnessed to me far more than I did to her. I spoke to her with conviction, and urged her to convert to Christianity lest she be damned. She returned my conviction and hellfire witnessing with kindness and curiosity. It was a beautiful moment, which I promptly ruined with my feelings of failure for not saving her soul… but it was beautiful nonetheless.

And 10 years later, I can still see the look of openness and curiosity in her eyes. And it wasn’t until just recently that I realized what made her religion so different from mine… And truthfully, it’s not a lot. Aside from the animal sacrifice that still took place in some areas, of course. Each religion sold its religious icons – both literally and metaphorically. Each had rituals, superstitions, fears, and both felt like if they didn’t do A and B, they were somehow doomed.

So what makes them really different? If you identify with a particular religion, then you are probably saying to yourself, “the difference is mine is the right one.” Which is funny, because almost every single person that reads this – as long as they have a strong attachment to a particular religion – would say something similar.

Well, the difference is clearly that Hinduism is very brutal, there is much bloodshed and the Gods are angry, jealous and must be appeased. Right? I could point out many instances within the Judeo-Christianity faith where there was a great deal of rage, jealousy and bloodshed, but that really isn’t where I want to go.

The difference is simply, and always will be – Traditions. What her family passed to her. What their ancestors passed to them. What new idol was “sold” to them. What idea was “sold” to us.

The woman I spoke with that day felt comfortable with her faith, because that was her families tradition. She identified with that faith because that is the one she was raised in. She could have chosen to “convert” to a different tradition – and her personality might have identified with it more. But the point is that she was born in Guyana, by any twist of fate, and because of where she was born and when she was born she picked up on the traditions that her ancestors passed down to her. The rituals she follows today don’t necessarily reflect the heart of the religion – what it really reflected was how her ancestors interpreted it, and how they passed it on to her.

Does that make her right or wrong? Does that make her any different than those that follow the Judeo-Christian traditions?

Aren’t most of us comfortable in the traditions that we know and identify with (whether we were raised in them or converted to another)? Don’t we try to sell them to each other?

The merchant I saw that day, obviously, didn’t feel attached to any particular tradition. He sold crosses and statues of Jesus to the Christians, and Rosaries and statues of Mary, and incense and statues of Gods to the Hindus. Perhaps he didn’t care and just wanted to make a buck. Or perhaps he believed it didn’t really matter what you identified with, that they were just Traditions.

What traditions do we follow today, blindly yet convicted? Are we really so different? Hasn’t there been a time when something just didn’t feel right but you suppress that feeling because your scripture/pastor/preist told you it was so?

“Question everything.” – Karl Marx, Buddha, Einstein, etc.