just let it shine through

i imagine that you can understand what it's like to have something really special that you want to share with the world.  something that you want to stroke and nourish and grow.  something you love so much that you want it to shine.  maybe it's your child.  maybe it's your business.  maybe it's your volvo.  for me, this "thing" is my soul.

when i release thoughts through my keyboard, i feel like i am polishing my heart.  i write to encourage my fellow human beings to love without limits... to take a deep, purposeful inhale and receive what the universe has to offer... to take a long, slow exhale and surrender to what the universe has in store.  i write to remind you, and myself, that we are all worthy.  period.  we don't need to be anything more than what we are.

each of us is divine, flawed perfection.

i came across this thought today during a particularly emotional meditation:  "receive and surrender.  you don't need to be anything more than what you are."  as these words strummed my mind, a rainbow-like ribbon of light began unraveling from my heart.  it wrapped around my waists, weaving through my organs and working up my back, filled my head and shot to the sky through my crown chakra.  white light drenched my body and burst through my root chakra, bringing with it a feeling of connection and love and healing.

it was quite lovely.  shiny, happy lovely.

peace, love, gratitude,
v


p.s.
strangely, as i sit here and type, this is what i have stuck in my head:  "just let your soul glow...  feelin' oh so silky smooth, just let it shine through....   soul.  glo."  damn you, eddie murphy.  can't i post just one sentimental piece of creative writing without having a weird, twisty moment?  oh well.  maybe you'll be inspired to begin a meditation practice this weekend - just after renting Coming to America.

p.s.s.
Please share this blog.  Like, repost, tweet, tumbl, anything.  I'd be so grateful.  And you know I'd do it for you if you asked me to.  :-)  xoxoxoxox

i just had another baby

okay, okay, not an ACTUAL baby.  but, thanks to your support, i have given birth to a bouncing baby blog called bringing up buddhas.

everything old has been so fun, so cathartic, so empowering, so patient, so perfect for me during my spiritual transition.  through this online journal i have been able to explore all sorts of new age ideas and overshare countless stories about self-discovery through spirituality.  it's served as an ideal transition for me and i hope you have enjoyed snickering and crying along with me.

i'll continue posting here on everything old but have decided to launch bringing up buddhas to focus specifically on the art of family buddhism.  i made the transition from christianity to bu-curiosity to zen buddhism and i'm eager to share what i learn and connect with others who are rearing baby buddhas, or are simply bu-curious.

so check it out, peeps!  just one click gets you there:  bringingupbuddhas.com.

wish me luck!

peace, love, gratitude...  endless gratitude,
v

happy trails

on sunday we took a family hike along the trails surrounding our home in new hampshire.  belonging to a clan of passionate hikers, i have lots of woodsy time to contemplate nature and spirituality and life in general.  and over the years, i have learned that hiking is the perfect metaphor for life.


big thanks to CG for all of these great pics.




















preparation.
take the time to think about what it is you want to achieve, how hard you want to work, and where you want to go.

a topographical map of newbury trails

balance.
once you're on your way, look down enough to keep from tripping over obstacles, look up enough to enjoy the scenery, look behind you to appreciate where you've been, and look far ahead to keep your goal in sight.

navigating the stone garden at the hay estate and wildlife refuge

opening up to a sandy beach on lake sunapee

not from sunday, but couldn't resist this pic of KF enjoying the view on gunnison lake a couple weeks back

mindfulness.
it's important to stay on the path.  a few steps to the side and you might end up in the thick.  you can always work your way back out to the path, but if you keep your eyes peeled, you'll see there are plenty of trail markers that will help guide you where to go.  you might even see some hidden gems.

can you spot the marker?

the kids spotted a perfectly gorgeous scarlet tanager hiding in the brush

there she is!

respect.
be sure not to leave any of your belongings or trash behind for others to find.  be responsible for the things you bring with you on your journey so they don't damage the environment or offend other people.

SG was never far from her walking stick, aka "the wizard's staff"

joy.
find joy on the path.  if there's no joy to be found, try a new path.

always time for a silly face...

or to just feel really happy.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

p.s.
please share this with your favorite hiker.  :-)

turf war

i've spent a lot of time hanging out in bushes lately.  blueberry bushes.  i've been patiently learning the art of picking.  there is an art to it, as it turns out.  i'll quickly share my best observations:

when pulling a ripe berry off the branch, there should be no effort. the berry should surrender to the picker easily.  sometimes i'll pull one off and notice a bit of fuschia under its skin and i can't help but mourn the berry that it could have become the next day. and sometimes when i pinch that perfect berry - fat, shiny, navy - i have to eat it right away.  mmmmmm....  sometimes, there are so many berries dangling on the ends of the finest twigs that i just need to hold my basket under the branch and gently curl my palm around the cluster, dragging and guiding the ripest, readiest blueberries into my basket waiting below.

i pass hours picking.  sometimes alone, sometimes with family, sometimes with visiting friends.  my niece came up to sunapee with us for a couple of weeks.  she couldn't get enough of the berries.  i'd pick for 30 minutes and carry the basket into the kitchen.  within 45 seconds my berries would disappear.  my niece has been renamed "berry monster".

one day after the berries quickly disappeared i asked, "where'd my collection go?"  my 6 year old SG said, "PG drank them."  "huh?  what do you mean?  she drank my berries?"  SG picked up a nearby bowl and demonstrated the art of drinking berries.  yup, that's about right.  down the hatch.

i've also been in a heated battle for the past several weeks with a rowdy flock of blue jays nesting in the yard.  the noisy bastards wake me up every morning with their reindeer games.  they harrass the playful nuthatchers, steal eggs from the sweet sounding robins,  they tease the woodpecker as he patiently pecks the old ash for bugs.  they squawk and careen and divebomb my blueberry bushes all day long.  clowns.  even though i harvest the berries twice a day, there is still enough to tempt the damn jays.  i turn my back and they immediately swoop right down and clean out my bushes.  schmack!  schmack!

you can tell that i've really enjoyed berry picking this summer. all the more reason for me to be protective of those bushes. my husband's like, "let those poor birds have some of our berries. we have plenty." and all i can say is, "they can eat them when i'm not watching.  or they can find their own at five bucks a pint!"

so lately, when i catch the damn blue jays pigging out in the bushes, i send the kids out to chase them away.  XG runs out and hollers, "get away blue jays!"  the girls sneak up and ambush the birds.  they're pretty good at it now.  SG's efforts were even rewarded with a perfect blue feather.

this was my reward that morning:

(i told you we have a lot of berries!)

blue jays are just the tip of the iceberg, though.  there are several animals jockeying for food in the yard.  we have three resident groundhogs.  all named miss tiggywinkle, they are often seen eating clover in the lawn.  my husband caught one in a paint bucket while it was feasting on bib lettuce in my mom's garden and i was devasted to see it relocated to a cranberry bog in the next town over.  my parents, on the other hand, said, "one down, two to go."  i guess i should be more understanding considering my feelings about those damn blue jays.

we also play host to porcupines, a red fox, about a hundred wild turkeys and the occassional black bear (they like to climb the apple trees and gorge themselves on honey crisps til they fall out and puke on the lawn).  last week, i even saw a mountain lion cross the street, about 1/4 mile from our house.  i can only imagine what he's eating, especially since i haven't seen the usual deer family in the meadow this summer.  regardless, it's pretty amazing.  and a sign of a healthy, thriving eco-system here in the sunapee region of new hampshire.

it's a wonderful blessing to live so closely with nature.  the wildlife, the food - such wonderful proof of the extraordinary gifts this earth has given us.  as much as they drive me crazy, i'm even grateful for those damn blue jays.  and i'll secretly hope that they cross paths with that new big cat in the neighborhood.  ;-)

peace, love, gratitude,
v

jump for joy

when i was small, i would jump off anything.  i remember leaning a tall ladder against my neighbors' backyard clubhouse.  we climbed to the peak, about 12 feet up, and launched our little bodies into the air...  a brief moment of weightlessness spoiled by a jarring reunion with mossy earth.

the clubhouse was one of many jumping opportunities that beckoned me as a kid.  i scaled trees and jumped from rickety branches, dropped sheets out of my bedroom window to  create exciting escapes from home, scrambled up icy rock ledges and propelled myself into snowy banks, or, my personal favorite, mud-puddle-jumped my way through rainstorms at summer camp. 

as time passed, i continued to find myself climbing and jumping - dancing on bars at clubs, shimmying up 10 walls to catch a glimpse of a great concert, etc.  i remember the last time i took a great, youthful leap.  i was in barbados with a group of friends at a beach called cranes (at least i think that's what it was called).  we followed a group of local kids up a 40 or 50 foot cliff and lined up.  one after another, the kids ran their fastest and let out a giant whoop as their bodies canonballed and pencil-dived into the aqua caribbean waves, barely avoiding imposing boulders below.  when i stepped to the front of the line i assessed the rocks and surf.  (at age 24, i still relished in the treasured "youthful invisibility clause" but i was old enough and smart enough to be careful.)  i deemed it safe, back pedaled 15 feet, revved up and dashed forward. 

free as a bird! 

on the long way down toward the sea, i felt a shift.  a very mortal shift.  i remember plummeting and thinking, "i should have hit water by now.  was i that high?"  my legs started pumping frantically and involuntarily and i felt an incredible desire to get the hell out of my body.  i was terrified.  i finally hit water (hard) and decided i wouldn't try that again.

and i didn't. 

for a long,

long,

long,

time.

as a mature adult (choke, i'm choking), jumping does not come second nature like it once did. i'm too aware of discomfort, mortality and early morning wake-up calls, of my aging bones and tight lower back muscles, of hangovers and bruised knees, chilly walks home and sand in my underpants.

as my sistress (sister from another mistress) K would say, "it sucks getting old."  yes it does, K, yes it does. 

but it's not all creaky joints and gensing.  not yet, anyway.  there are moments of youthfulness that we can still capture if we are mindful.  about 7 years ago, i had a chance to taste my younger, jumpier days.  i was vacationing in maine with my hubby's family.  we caravanned to beautiful mountain hiking trail and were thrilled to find a treasure deep in the forest:  a stunning natural pool surrounded by waterfalls and stone water slides.  a high rocky ledge bordered one side of the pool and hanging above it was a gnarly old rope.  i watched my nieces and nephews bound up that ledge with their parents, eager to grab hold of that sucker and ride it with delight into the chilly water beckoning below.  i watched.  i watched.  i watched.  i played peacefully with my one year old baby and i watched. 

they were having a ball.  as i sat on the edge of the pool - all dry, cozy, quiet and warm - a quote popped into my head.  my friend CF always ends her emails with this line:  "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away." 

another shift.

i asked myself, when was the last time i did something that took my breath away?  for years, i'd been playing it so safe.  i remembered that time i took a flying leap in barbados.  it scared the shit out of me, but i sure remembered it.  because i lived it.  had i sat back and watched that day, i probably wouldn't have remembered that beach at all. 

i decided to live that day.  live.  live it.  live it up.  there would be subsequent days that i would decide not to live it up, but this day, i made a decision to do just that.  i decided to jump.

i told my mother-in-law about my tiny shift.  at 70+, she decided she wanted to live it up that day, too.  so i handed off my baby and the two of us scrambled up the cliff.  somehow each of us mustered to the courage to grab hold of that splintered rope and Tarzan our way to a breath-taking moment.

as my children have grown, i've enjoyed watching them take risks and live it up.  often times, i catch myself sitting back and observing while they get soaked in rain puddles or somersault off diving boards.  laughing, snorting, revelling.  but life isn't just for the little ones.  it's for mommies, too.  and when i live for me, i show my kids how to live for themselves.

i can't count how many times i've told my kids this summer, "be one with the sand," or, "give into the heat.  joy lives just past the uncomfortable transitions."  when they let nature wash over them and accept that discomfort is part of living they can let go and experience the pure joy that exists just beyond.  wet, sticky, muddy, sandy, chilly, scary, crazy, sloppy, buggy, silly joy.

discovering myself through mindful thinking and behavior has allowed me to see this clearly.  through mindfulness, i encourage myself to engage, to live, to trust.  trust in the climb, trust in the leap, and trust that the fear that precedes and the discomfort that follows is also living.  joyful living.

i have to constantly remind myself to live.  it sounds so silly, but, as a mother of young children, years passed by that i forgot to do just that.  i got so caught up in schedules and diapers and feeding times that i would forget to remind myself to LIVE THIS LIFE FOR ME. 

so.  now, i jump.  i am no longer a stranger to that exhilarating feeling that comes just before my body plunges into cold water.  i'm not worried about my recently blown-dry hair or the chilly walk home.  this is my summer to get wet, get dirty, get messy.  this is my summer to jump.  you might see me out there somewhere.  i'm the mommy with the sandy undies.  i'm the lady jumping off the dock at dusk.  i'm the 30-something splashing in the mud puddles after a thunderstorm.  because i'm the one living my life.

***********

today, i was hiking with my family in goshen, nh.  we walked past a wooden ladder nailed to a tree beside a lake and i noticed there was a rope wedged discreetly behind the top rung.  i asked my family to wait while i peeled off my socks and cross trainers.  i snatched that old rope and, with a little encouragement from my own mom, sailed into the water below.  i sloshed out shivering, no towel, soaked through, and smiling.  my kids were thrilled.  me next!  me next!  all three of them took the plunge.  several times.  even my 3 year old.  

fearless youth.

i hope they hold onto it always.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

you suck and i don't

People love to post one-liners about "small-minded people".  Like this little gem:

We are stimulated by these words b/c we believe these words apply to us - to us and our frustration with those people who are petty, closed-off or simple-minded.  Those people who, for some reason, cannot stand to see us find success in the world and seem to revel in our screw-ups and missteps.  When we think about these peeps, it goes something like this:

Oh, you don't like me b/c you are just so small-minded.  You can say nasty things about me but I don't care b/c you are small.  And I am big.  I am a big-minded, high-road-taking, well-adjusted, totally wicked awesome person.  And you're not.   And you're a bad dresser, too.  And you have a big bum.  And an ugly husband.  So think about that while I become a huge success.

Exaggerated.  But tell me I'm not right.  Right?  That's what these little picture quotes should really say.  Because that's the deeper meaning.  These uplifting quotes are really passive-aggressive digs at other people who, we think, don't like us or don't support us.  They're judgments.  This is us judging other people as small-minded b/c they don't see things the way we do.  We are pointing our fingers at that person who sits in judgment and saying, "SEE?  I AM the GOOD person here.  YOU ARE the DOPE," and doing exactly to them what we fear they are doing to us.   

I really think this type of name-calling is all about insecurities and our basic human desire to be acknowledged.  If we could just acknowledge each other, be more receptive with each other, be more respectful of each other's presence, we wouldn't have any need for these sneaky, yet colorful, "you suck and I don't" boxes popping up all over our news feeds.  

Peace, love, gratitude,

v

p.s.  Please share this if you like it.  I would very much appreciate the support!  :-)

short & sweet... literally

a few weeks ago, my 6 year old SG (6 years old today, actually) threw a penny in the fountain on the town green.

"whatdya ask for?" i probed.

"fluff," she answered matter-of-factly.

"fluff," i repeated.

"yah, fluff."

later that evening i trucked over to the stop & shop and bought a tub of fluff.  the next day i made her a soy butter and fluff sandwich and sent her off to school.

she came home elated, all teeth and cheeks, "mommy!  mommy!  my wish came true!  i had a fluff sandwich in my lunchbox today!"

i didn't say anything else about it, just smiled and winked.  i want her figure out on her own how her power works, how by sharing her wishes, she's helping to make them come true.  a little example of the way the universe conspires to help her along the way.

wishes are beautiful things.  but if we keep our wishes a secret, how will they every come true?  most wishes require other people's participation.  we all have wishes, we all have dreams, we all have goals.  no need to be shy about it.  this is our humanness in action - by nature we are dreamers, we are doers.  so why deny ourselves by not sharing our dreams?  scream it out loud, i say.  why not?  let family and friends know what we want to do, where we want to go, who we want to be.  b/c then, they can help us.  they can improve our chances of bringing our wishes to life.

just today, my son XG ran by the fountain and tossed in a penny.

"whatdya ask for, big man?" i probed.

"a donkey tree," he sputtered.

...good luck with that one, kid.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

p.s.
please share this if you like it!  :-)

quitchyer complainin'

man, i've been CRAZY the past few weeks!  i liken my behaviors and thoughts to a dairy queen blizzard.  a messy mix of irresistible but unhealthy morsels that require much concentration and discipline to resist.  the hormones, the season change, the pressure of the suburbs, the tennis moratorium, the constant intrusion of three small children in my eighteen inch bubble...  have all contributed to this recent state of relative dis-ease.

whilst in this state i have found myself doing a lot of moaning and groaning.  eeeeessshhhh... i can be such a complainer.  and like i said in my post a few  days ago, inviting complaints to the party will only attract more of the same.

trouble is, i'm a talker.  i'm an analyzer.  i'm an over-sharer.  so when i'm feeling all complain-y, i tell people.  i say, screw the edit button.  i'm going to play the raw footage.  i replay my ridiculous story of hormones and transition and children until it's completely played out.  i can only imagine that, as much as my friends love me, they cannot possibly enjoy listening to my woe-is-mess.  

it took me a casual comment by my friend RG (yes, lovey, your RG) to realize what i've been doing.  after complaining about having to mow the lawn and manage the kids and blah blah blah, RG looked at me and said, "it sounds like you need a drink."  a fairly benign remark, but this is the effect it had on me:

honestly, i've just been waiting for the dust to settle.  for the vacation to start.  for the big change that's gone come.  right?  b/c the hormones will balance.  b/c the kids will find a new routine.  b/c the pressure of living next door to the joneses only exists if i allow it to exist.  b/c my kids are actually pretty great.  b/c something wonderful will happen that will break me out of this state and everything will be better.  right?  right?  right?

WRONG.  if i want better i need to demand better.  ahem, invite better.  inviting better starts with changing my story. and that means i've got to stop making excuses, stop telling the old story.  it's easy to complain - it's mindless to complain.  complaining puts me back in the big dairy queen cup filled with things that are bad for me.  living with gratitude is much healthier, much more wholesome.  you can't complain and be grateful at the same time.  and this life is certainly something to be grateful for.  so, the change starts now.  the change starts with remembering that we are exactly where we are supposed to be - in this very moment.

we can all use a dose of moonstruck once in a while, can't we?  we all complain.  we all play the victim.  some more than others.  (i am so guilty of this.)  we air our grievances, forgetting that life is actually pretty damn great.  we tell our friends - can you believe she did that to me?  i feel sick.  my husband is so lazy.  i'm having the worst day.  my eyes are too wide apart.  this shopping cart has a squeaky wheel.  this traffic is atrocious.  the grass is too long.  there's never enough time.  it's too hot.  it's too cold.  the sun is too bright.  the rain is too wet.  

there.  that one's for you.  isn't that better?  

peace, love, gratitude,

v

p.s.

share this with someone who's been going through a tough time and complaining a lot lately.  hopefully they'll appreciate it and not slap you back.  ;-)

p.p.s.

the joneses don't really live next door.  my neighbors are actually extraordinary.  :-)

p.p.p.s.
this lawnmower was the inspiration for this blog post.  she was my final straw.  when she gave out about 7/8 of the way through the lawn, i tried to sweet talk her.  i caressed her, stroked her, i even did reiki on her.  she was so stubborn.  so i'd like to formally apologize to her for the kicking, cursing, and manhandling.  turned out all she needed was a little more fuel.  oops!  good girl.

letter to the editor

A couple of months ago, I found this article on "Christian Worldview" by Albert Mohler and wanted to share my email response to him.  

Never Having to Say You’re Dead? The New Interest in Reincarnation

August 31, 2010 by Dr. Albert Mohler
Filed under The Latest from Our Blog

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Dr. Paul DeBell believes that he was once a caveman. Not only that, he is fairly certain that his life as a caveman ended violently. “I was going along, going along, going along, and I got eaten,” said the psychiatrist.

To his life as a caveman, Dr. DeBell adds his knowledge of previous lives as a Tibetan monk and “a conscientious German who refused to betray his Jewish neighbors in the Holocaust.” Dr. DeBell’s account is found in “Remembrances of Lives Past” by Lisa Miller of Newsweek magazine, published in the August 29, 2010 edition of The New York Times. Miller writes of the growing acceptance of the idea of reincarnation among Americans.

The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life reported last year that a quarter of all Americans now believe in reincarnation. As Lisa Miller notes, the report found that women are more likely to believe in reincarnation than men, and registered Democrats are more likely than Republicans. In any event, the popularity of reincarnation is rising, and Dr. DeBell is but one example. A psychiatrist trained at Cornell University, Dr. DeBell is one of the voices on behalf of reincarnation, but he is not alone.

In her report, Lisa Miller also introduces Peter Bostock, a retired teacher in Canada, who believes that he was once a large estate manager in England, and that he was then in love with his present wife, who was then a cook in the estate’s kitchen. Their forbidden love in a past life gives meaning, he suggests, to their marriage today. He told Miller that the couple shares a powerful attraction “that a soul makes when it encounters the familiar.”

The most influential figure in Miller’s report is Dr. Brian Weiss, who has pioneered what is now called “regression therapy,” based in the remembrance of past lives. A graduate of Columbia University and the Yale Medical School, Weiss became a lightning rod for controversy within psychiatric circles after he published an account of his treatment of a woman by hypnotizing her and assisting her to remember several past lives. Dr. Weiss now holds weekend seminars that attract hundreds of participants. He also claims that such therapeutic approaches are gaining credibility within the psychiatric profession.

Miller, who recently wrote a book on the afterlife, recognizes that the growing acceptance of reincarnation points to a retreat of Christian beliefs. In her words: “In religious terms, the human narrative — birth, life, death and rebirth — has for millennia been relatively straightforward in the West. You were born. You lived. You died. After a judgment you went to heaven (or hell) forever and ever. Eternity was the end: no appeals allowed.”

Reincarnation offers an escape from that linear view of history and human destiny. The Eastern conception of time common to Confucian cultures is deeply cyclical, with events and persons appearing again and again throughout time. As Lisa Miller summarizes the worldview: “You are born. You live. You die. And because nobody’s perfect, your soul is born again — not in another location or sphere, and not in any metaphorical sense, but right here on earth.” There is more to it, of course. Hinduism teaches that eventually, after however many lives, the soul reaches perfection and release. Until then, the soul takes on life after life.

One of Dr. DeBell’s patients told of finding relief from grief over her mother’s death by discovering that in previous lives she had been an Italian merchant who sold textiles along the Amalfi Coast, a herbalist in Africa, and a freed slave in New Orleans.

Readers of the report are likely to note some strange patterns. Why is it that these people seem only to recover knowledge of such noble past lives? A German who refused to betray his Jewish neighbor during the Holocaust? Where are the people who claim in past lives to have been concentration camp guards or complicit neighbors?

Put bluntly, even if you set Christian concerns about reincarnation aside momentarily, the picture looks dubious. Furthermore, the therapeutic application of reincarnation as a concept looks like just the latest fad. Do these people actually believe what they claim? Some do, of course, but Lisa Miller acknowledges that the nature of these recovered “lives” is slippery. She explains that psychiatrists “have begun to broaden their definition of ‘memory,’ leaving aside the question of whether a scene uncovered during hypnosis is ‘real’ or not.” That is a difficult question to leave aside. Most people would probably want to know if their neighbor really believes that he was a galley slave on a Viking ship in a past life.

Lisa Miller suggests that reincarnation is growing in popularity because Christianity is in retreat, especially among the young. But Stephen Prothero of Boston University asserts that increased interest in reincarnation is tied to the relative prosperity of the American people. Americans like their lives and their possessions, he argues, and they like the idea of postponing eternity. “Reincarnation means never having to say you’re dead” he offers.

In reality, few concepts can match reincarnation in terms of being incompatible with Christian doctrine and the Christian worldview. The biblical view of history is linear, not cyclical. The Bible assumes and claims a past-present-future orientation, with the end bringing the perfect judgment and justice of God. History is not a great wheel, but a chronological current.

The Bible states clearly that “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” [Hebrews 9:27]. There is no “do-over,” and no great cycle of life.

Lisa Miller has a point when she suggests that the growing acceptance of reincarnation is tied to a loss of Christian knowledge and conviction among Americans. Nevertheless, it seems very likely that this new acceptance of reincarnation is more a matter of therapeutic fads and cultural fashions than as huge theological shift. The shift is more likely a loss of Christian conviction in the face of secularization — not a comprehensive embrace of Eastern worldviews.

Nevertheless, it is important to know that a growing number of Americans now believe in reincarnation and are accepting ideas from Eastern religions and worldviews. But, even as this development is important in missiological terms, it is still hard to take very seriously.

Even in these confused times, how many Americans really want to consult a psychiatrist who believes he was once a caveman who got gobbled up?

Dear Mr. Mohler,

I just found your article online about reincarnation and wanted to share my viewpoint as a Cultural Christian who believes without doubt that our souls take on human form time and time again.  Of course the first thing I wanted to do was poke holes in your argument, specifically the following quote from the good book:

The Bible states clearly that “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” [Hebrews 9:27]. There is no “do-over,” and no great cycle of life.

The Bible is an awesome resource.  One from which a person of any religious persuasion can learn and grow.  But it's also a book that has been, can be and will be translated and interpreted for all time.  As many will agree, the book is alive.  The idea of reincarnation does not compete with this quote from The Bible.  A man does die once - well, in most cases.  Sometimes a man can die, be resuscitated then die again later.  But, yes, we agree that an individual man usually dies once.  And, yes, after that comes judgment.  The soul reviews the life of its individual, along with Jesus or other Masters and, according to the research done by folks like Raymond A. Moody, experiences the joys and pains inflicted upon others during that lifetime.  There is no "do-over".  That personality existed once in your steadfast chronology and the soul grew exponentially by the lessons learned in that lifetime.  

The second idea I'd like to refute is that this is an American's need to stay connected to material wealth.  In fact, I have spend years working on disconnecting myself emotionally from material things, as Buddhists teachings have advised.  In addition, I can safely assume that when my soul does return to earth, I will not be "me" again.  I will not live in my house again.  I will not drive my car again.  I could be a man in Africa, I could be a nun in Switzerland, I could be a humpback whale for all I know.  So the argument that westerners are frantically reaching in attempt to hold onto possessions is simply invalid.    

My faith is not a "fad".  I believe, as well as BILLIONS of others around the world, that while the man lives once, energy is forever.  Like trees and flowers that bloom and die, capturing energy for a short time then releasing it back to the universe only to capture it again...  so does the human body.  No energy can be created or destroyed; therefore the soul exists eternally.  Before AND after death.  Just think:  If God can launch my soul into a little baby's body once and pluck it out of a wrinkly old body once, then who's to say that God doesn't have the power to do that a hundred times?  A thousand times?  Our earthly lives are a drop in the ocean.  Why would God waste all of that heavenly energy when He/She/We can recycle it over and over?  Doesn't it make good efficient sense to reincarnate souls?  Do you really think that when you die you will spend eternity sitting on a cloud and playing the harp?  What or where was your soul before you were born?  These are the big questions that I asked myself and why reincarnation was the only idea that made sense to me.  

Another incorrect assessment is that folks always regress to lifetimes when they were somebody special or important.  I have regressed through meditation many times and visited many past life times.  I have seen myself as a poor Chinese woman in the times before Christ - no one special.  I have seen myself as a little girl living in the country - no one special.  I have seen myself as a civil rights activist - passionate, but seemingly un-special.  I've seen myself as a nomad in Nepal - completely alone in life.  But I have had experiences when special people have been revealed to me, too.  The Universe released these lives to me when the time is right.  *Note:  I don't see what's so special about being a caveman who was eaten, or about being a caveman at all.

I respect the Christian faith and those who believe so passionately that they are living their "one sacred life".  I believe with equal passion that God created man in harmony with the Universe, as a reflection of nature, with a soul that cycles just like everything else on Earth.  And I love Jesus.  He is awesome.  We can all learn from his messages of love and compassion.  I can't limit his teachings to a single book, though.  I prefer to keep my eyes and ears open to the messages that God's great universe delivers in the here and now - and not limit myself to the messages provided to us through lens of founders of Christianity.  Those men had clear agendas.  I, as a seeker, do not.  

Peace,

Vanessa Gobes

p.s.  Dr. Weiss has a terrific saying regarding the experience of channeling past life memories:  "When you hear hoofbeats, don't look for zebras."


Peace, love and gratitude to my readers.  Feel free to post comments here.  Love to hear all of your ideas and viewpoints.  Oh, and please share the blog with friends if you like.
V

don't. yes. wait, stop. okay, go.

I'm going to apologize for this post before we even get started.  So.  Sorry.  But I chortled and snarked all the way through.  Maybe a bit of an Andy Rooney moment for me.

I was in my bathroom getting ready this morning, examining the silver hairs streaking through my locks and thinking about expectations.  A lot of my friends (and one extremely close family member in particular whom I worship and adore) would look at me in this slowly-advancing state of salt-and-pepper and use the word, "hag."  Besides the silvers (they're not grey, they're silver), my hair is probably a little too long. A little too frizzy.  Oh, I could take the time to blow dry, grease it with Moroccan Oil, dye it back to its original monotone chestnut color, but I'm not sure I care.  Anna Wintour says that any woman of a certain age should cut her hair above her shoulders.  Hmmmm...  yah, no.

thanks, DD, for a nice, demonstrative pic of my hag hair ;-)

There are lots of rules like Ms. Wintour's here in America - social norms we call them, if I'm remembering the term from 11th grade Sociology correctly.  Don't wear white between Labor Day and Memorial Day.  Don't eat on public transit.  Greet people with one kiss on the right cheek (unless you are a New Yorker who pretends to be a European, then you deliver one kiss on each cheek while scanning for other more important friends in the room).  Do not invade a stranger's 18 inch bubble.  Get married before you make babies.  Hold your tongue in an elevator.  Tip anyone in the service industry.  Etc, etc, etc.

And then there's the cursing.  Oh, the cursing.

I know there are social rules about cursing, but I still go back and forth on how I feel about it.  Those who read my blog faithfully are familiar with my ease at dropping eff bombs.  Writing for me is a passionate release, a focused meditation - and often times my fingers fly over the keyboard so quickly that I barely know what I'm writing until I'm done.  If a few unclassified words end up in the mix, who am I to edit them?

Plus.  In real life, I quite enjoy the eff word.  I use it occasionally.  Maybe too occasionally.  But I don't place any verbal value on it, except as a non-verbal verbal that lets people know that I am flawed.  (Though most wouldn't need four letter word to see that.)

And then there's always pressure to stifle the cursing in front of the kids.  Tell me.  When it comes to parenting, what is right?  Apologize for letting "shit" escape in front of the kids?  Don't apologize for letting "shit" escape in front of the kids.  (Maybe they didn't notice???)  Is hell a cuss or a place?  Is ass a donkey or a bum?  Is fart okay?  What about penis and vagina?  I think they're good.  But not in school.  Boobs?  Butt?  Shut up?  How 'bout the modern alternative - Shut it?  Is it okay that my 7 year old knows all the words to "I'm Sexy and I Know It"?  Is it okay that my 5 year old sings "Red Solo Cup" and that I think it's kind of funny when she says, "And you, sir, do not have a pair of testicles if you prefer drinking from glasses."  (I mean, she's almost 6, really, but that's still pretty bad, right?)

I actually spend time pondering the spiritual repercussions of cursing.  Oh, yes, I do.  I mean, it's about 49th on my list of priorities, squeaking in just after emptying my mom's dog's anal sacks, but the spiritual questions are there.

Is cursing an unmindful form of communication?  Is cursing offensive?  Yes, I suppose it is.  But why?  I guess I know why, but is it because God cares?  When I splatter searing hot bacon grease on my bare arm and shout, "JESUS!" does Jesus give a shit, ahem, I mean give a damn, ahem, I mean give a rat's ass... oh whatever.  You know what I mean.  But really.  Does he?  And does he / He / HE care if I capitalize or not?  Honestly, I'm thinking no.  And if, by some small chance, I'm right and God doesn't care, why do some people care so much?

(Whew!  Tangent.)

But, like I said, it's not just cursing, it's everything.  There are hundreds of social norms that differ greatly from culture to culture.  Wave with the back of your hand in Greece, cover your shoulders in Morocco, don't be American in England, take off your shoes upon entering a house in Japan, wear thongs on the beach and bikinis to the grocery store in Brazil, wash your poopy bum with a communal bar of soap but only with your right hand in India, don't write in red ink in China, stare at people past the point of awkwardness then let your dirty white lap dog eat off your plate in France.  What is acceptable changes so vastly from country to country, it just makes me laugh.  Because it's all so funny, isn't it?  All these rules about living.

The rules in life are all so particular.  And peculiar.  Are these socially acceptable (and unacceptable) behaviors cast offs from religious orders?

Don't eat meat.
Don't eat meat with milk.
Don't eat meat with milk on Fridays before sunset on the fourth night of a Harvest Moon.
Sit cross-legged with your hands open on your lap.
Sit with your middle fingers touching your thumbs.  No, your index fingers.
Don't sit.  Lay down.  Or stand up walk.  Just shut up and be quiet.
Wear an orange robe and only an orange robe.
Shave your head.  Let one piece grow.  Let two curls grow.  Let one long hair on your face grow.
Don't cut your hair.  Don't cut your beard.  Now hide it all in a turban.
Hide your hair, hide your shoulders, hide your ankles.  You know what?  Just hide your whole face.
Kneel down, stand up, cross yourself, repeat after me, say it again, say it again, one more time, say it again.
Eat this dry cracker.
Now return to your pew and continue with your dozing off.

Who made these rules anyway?  (Men.)  But seriously, who?  (Old men.)  Really, though.  We judge others so harshly when they don't abide by the rules.  Meanwhile, the most important rules are often ignored - BE KIND, BE PATIENT, BE HONEST, BE HERE NOW.

Well.  Now that I have thought and pondered and assessed and analyzed the things we humans do and why we do the things we do, I have to go explain to my kids why they can't say "fart" in the classroom.    

Peace, love, gratitude,
V

p.s.

Share if you dare.

it's a party!

I get invitations for all kinds of things.  Holiday parties, charity functions, walks around the block, parent-teacher conferences, the white sale at Bloomie's...  I always consider the invitation and decide what needs to be done based on my calendar.  Can I do it?  Can I fit it?  Can I manage it?  And then, typically, I do whatever it is I need to do to make it work.  I call a sitter, pencil it in, find an outfit, arrange a carpool and hit the road.  That's the type of response that we would expect to give to an invitation.

You know, the universe works pretty much the same.  When we invite a thought, an event, a situation, a relationship into our lives, the universe responds just as we would to a proper invitation.  If the invitation makes sense, our spirity selves will pull strings in order to make things happen for us.  If it doesn't fit in our calendar, we will have to work a thousand times harder to make things happen on our own... or run out of days trying.

When we invite positivity into our lives, we will receive positivity into our lives.  Ask and we shall receive.  Really, all it takes is the ask.  All we have to do is be honest with ourselves, feel worthy of goodness in this lifetime, and imagine ourselves receiving.  RECEIVE.  I love that word.  All this is easier said, I know.  But it's true.

You want good in your life?  Ask for good.  Don't beg.  Don't plead.  Don't compare your good to your neighbor's good.  Don't get angry when it doesn't work out your way right away.  Be patient.  Keep asking.  Write your requests down.  Create a formal invitation addressed to all the good things you want to accomplish, to the children with whom you want to have patience, to the success you want to find in your employment.  Go ahead, try it.  Okay, okay, I'll try first:

"Dear Universe, I invite you to bring flexibility into my life... specifically, into my hamstrings.  I invite you to help me find inspiration in my writing so I can connect with and help others.  I invite you to bless my family with health and kindness.  I invite you to bring my new baby niece home from Honduras this month."

(Saved the best for last. ;-)

That's all it takes.  The universe is eager to receive your invitations and will provide you with exactly what you need.  Because the universe is working for you.  The universe is constantly catching you and tripping you, holding you up and pushing you ahead in order to get you exactly what you need in every minute.  The universe wants you to learn and heal and love and feel.  Elevate.

But, hey.  You want bad?  You can get that, too.  Burying yourself in gossip and materialism, greed and anger, jealousy and obsessive thoughts will get you loads of bad.  And maybe all that bad is what your are meant to receive.  Maybe that bad is your karmic payback.  Maybe you just need to stew in that bad for awhile so the universe will keep on sending you bad.

UNTIL.

Until, until, until, you start INVITING THE GOOD.  Because when you are READY to invite the good, the universe will sigh relief.  THANK GOD SHE FINALLY ASKED ME FOR SOME GOOD!

But if you don't invite the good, ask for the good, expect the good - the good won't come.  You might get  bitty flashes of the good.  The good might poke it's shiny head out and say, "Hey hey!  I'm here!  I'll tickle your belly, give you a laugh, but then I've got to motor b/c you're not quite ready for me yet.  When you invite me formally I'll be here for you b/c I love you.  I do.  But until then, I remain a whisper."

It's really up to you.  Invite the good.  Invite the bad.  It's all the same to the universe.  But is it all the same to you?

Peace, love, gratitude,
v

p.s.
If you enjoyed this blog, I invite you to share it.  Thank you.  :-)