Once in a Blue Moon

In recent times, we have come to identify a blue moon as the second moon in a month, but according to earlier definitions, including one from The Farmers’ Almanac released 150 years ago, a blue moon is the third moon in a season of four moons. Some years count 13 full moons instead of 12, but since the identity of the moons was important in the ecclesiastical calendar (the Paschal Moon, to cite one, used to be crucial for determining the date of Easter), a year with a thirteenth moon upset the calendar, since there were names for only 12 moons. By identifying the thirteenth moon as a blue moon, the ecclesiastical calendar remained the same.

The idea of a "calendar month" is a relatively recent concept, as months were originally measured by the period between lunar cycles, creating a Lunar Calendar of some 13 months per year (the word "month" comes from "moon"). A cultural revolution took place in the Classical Period, when the ancient rule of the lunar goddesses was replaced by the rule of the sun gods, with 12 months connected to the 12 signs of the Zodiac. In the ancient Lunar Calendars, including the now frequently discussed Mayan Calendar, time was measured according to moon cycles, change of seasons and the period between equinoxes and solstices.

Our current Gregorian calendar system dates from the time of Pope Gregory in the 16th century. The pre-Gregorian calendar was the Julian calendar (the Roman Emperor, Julius Caesar, came up with the idea of standardizing the chaotic Roman calendar in 47 BC). Many cultures, including the Protestant and the Orthodox, were suspicious of such popery and did not adopt this new system until later (even now the Julian calendar is still in use in parts of the Orthodox Church). However, it was in 1582 that the Gregorian calendar was adopted in Rome, Spain, Portugal, France, the Netherlands and Scandinavia. And it wasn't until 1752 that England adopted the new Gregorian calendar.

There are two interesting facts connected to this particular blue moon; for one, the moon will be in the constellation of Cancer - the sign of the Mother, home and family, symbolizing a shift of energy toward the feminine heart center; the second fact is that a partial eclipse will also take place, although it will not be visible in the US since it will occur at approximately 2:13pm EST. Traditionally, moon eclipses are considered a time of rest, during which we release what we no longer need. We might consider releasing feelings and habits that no longer serve us, old perceptions of security and illusions of power.

The New Year is ringing in with a pretty powerful celestial cocktail, just in time to make a special wish when we click champagne flutes at the stroke of midnight.

Happy New Year!


Some of the information on this post was found at: http://www.astrologycom.com/bluemoon.html

Cleaning Out the Old

“Krishna insisted on outer cleanliness and inner cleansing. Clean clothes and clean minds are an ideal combination.” ~ Sri Guru Granth Sahib


Yesterday it was cleaning time at my house. Not just routine cleaning, mind you, but deep, gut-the-house-and-start-anew type of cleaning. My kids have by now probably disowned me as a mother on charges of slavery of minors, but I am quite satisfied with the results and close to being done.

The crazy compulsion began the other day, when I thought about the benefits of starting the new year on clean slate. I paid all my bills the day before, went to the bank and to the grocery store, and mentally prepared for the Herculean task ahead. It’s almost crazy how my house feels small when I look for storage space or I bump into one of the kids every time I turn, but when it’s time to seriously clean, it suddenly feels like a mansion ready to swallow me alive.

After multiple cups of motivating morning coffee, I slipped into my drill sergeant clothes and yelled the kids out of their beds. Before they could complain, I dropped the supplies and their lists in front of their bedrooms, and ran up to get started on the upper floors. My goal was to focus on each room and begin by cleaning out cabinets, drawers and closets before I detail-cleaned the rooms themselves.

By the time I was done with the first two rooms I had three large bags of garbage…where on earth was all that stuff hiding before?? It is quite amazing how much we accumulate over the years, and how invisible it becomes to us once it has been there for a while, most of it hidden out of sight in drawers and closets. Getting rid of it was a bitter-sweet experience. Some of those things were tied to nice moments in the past, so I toyed with them for a little while, undecided if I should keep them or let them go. Some of the objects I picked up didn’t have any particular meaning, and I found it mind-boggling that I had even kept them for so long.

When all was said and done – almost done, I should say, since the kitchen is still unchecked on the list – I had fifteen large bags of trash and five bags of good items to take to Goodwill. The house felt much lighter and ready to welcome the dynamic energy of the New Year, and I felt just as light. We often hold on to what we no longer need, without thinking how much the extra weight holds us back from moving forward. Whether we remain attached to something because it is connected to a pleasant memory or to a painful one, or even if it is something that we stored for no particular reason, at some point it is time to let it go; no matter how important it was in the past, it has no consciousness in the present or future.

Everything has a season. Once it’s passed, it is time to open the doors to something new.

No Longer Afraid

Many of us probably remember when, as children, we believed monsters were lurking in the darkness of our closet, or lay hidden under our bed, patiently waiting to seize us as soon as our parents left the room. Although we were told they weren’t real, in our minds we could picture them clearly: huge and threatening, their eager, yellow, slimy fangs glimmering in the shadows, ready to swallow us in one single bite.

As adults we still fear the monsters lurking in the unknown and the forgotten, and often picture them much mightier than they really are. The monsters we fear as adults lurk behind the curtains of important decisions, or in the chambers of the mind we have chosen to lock away after being emotionally wounded. The two are quite different from one another.

The monsters we fear when we find ourselves at an important crossroad in our lives are birthed by the apprehension we feel when facing uncertainty. Most of us experience anxiety when not sure of what will unfold; we tend to expect the worst as a defense mechanism; by doing so, we are already braced for disaster before taking the turn and don’t feel as concerned with being attacked by unforeseen events. In the majority of cases, the apprehension we feel is unfounded and mostly feeds on insecurities. In some situation, we feel as if we are facing a daunting task which will drain us of vital energy; once we get started with the project – and get swept into the flow of things – the work gets done and we realize it wasn’t too bad after all.

The other type of monsters we need to face, at times, are the ones we have kept locked away in the attic of our mind, those which caused us great pain in the past and we tried to forget about, the very same ones which haunt our dreams and taint our daily life. This kind of monster is the scariest to face. After being locked away for so long, we have forgotten what it truly looks like, and our imagination paints it much bigger and much more threatening. Truth is, after being locked away for several years, the monster has weakened, and the emotional charge which we attached to it when it was free and able to harm us has depleted with time. After so much time away from it, we have also become stronger and more able to defeat it, so we no longer need to fear it as the mighty giant it used to be.

Once exposed to the light of a conscious confrontation, it will likely appear for what it truly is: an old, residual fragment of the original monster, void of energy and greatly undernourished because of the new choices we have made for ourselves. By keeping it tucked away, we have assumed that its power would never lessen, and have saved it in our mind’s eye as being as big as it was when we locked it away. We have chosen to keep it alive out of sheer fear, and fed it on occasion with our anxiety and doubts.

At some point, it is time for the monsters to be slain. It is time to bring them out and face them in the light of day; only then we will see that the fear of the monster is much larger than the monster itself.

One More Shot at New Year's Resolution

“When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it - but all that had gone before.” ~ Jacob Riis


Once again, we are preparing to usher in a new year. In the midst of a flurry of traditions and celebrations, many are working on their list of resolutions. The list most often includes lifestyle improvements such as quitting smoking or drinking, healthier eating habits and weight loss.

Making a list is an easy thing; getting started with the best of intentions is the next easy thing; then, when all the easy stuff has run its course, the hard part begins: sticking with our resolutions. After the original steam has evaporated, the long-term benefits of the choice we made are still floating somewhere at the edges of the mind, but they suddenly don’t seem so important any more, when compared with the immediate struggles we are facing on the journey toward our destination. Eight times out of ten, New Year resolutions die in their infancy.

Many approach their resolutions with determination, but if they trip and fall even once, they often feel that the battle is lost for one more year, and they are ready to give it up until the next January first. Imagine if babies gave up trying to walk after they fell once or even a handful of times, and they didn’t try again until they turned a year older. With each fall, their brains record the experience and work relentlessly to avoid the same obstacles; they might require several tries, and several bumps, but eventually they learn to coordinate their movements in such a way that they fall less and less. Their success does not depend on the last time they stood up and took three steps without falling, but on the countless times before, when they took one step and fell down.

We might have tried the same resolution more times than we can count on the fingers of two hands, but each time we make an attempt at conquering our goal our chances of success are greater. Surely, we might fall again, but we could also be ready to finally walk alone. And if we do fail again, it’s good to know that it wasn’t in vain.

Falling is not an excuse for giving up on trying, but an opportunity to learn what didn’t work, so we’ll have more chances to succeed when we stand up and give it another shot.

New Year's Wish Cakes

With less than a week left before we say goodbye to the current year, many are already beginning to formulate their resolutions for the next.

Rather than coming up with resolutions, my family and I bake “wish cakes” on New Year’s Eve. That tradition is one I grew up with, and has become one of my children’s favorites through the years. We normally select a cake mix that contains lemon and poppy seeds. The lemon is said to purify and remove negativity, while the poppy seeds open the doors of the mind and allow us to accept blessings more willingly. Other choices for cake mix are also cinnamon and vanilla (respectively used to speed wishes and attract love).

After mixing the ingredients, we add little charms I keep for the occasion; they can be anything one may wish; for example, if someone is looking for marriage, they could put in a wedding ring (fake ones can be found at craft stores, in the section for weddings), or coins for prosperity. Other items may include tiny car charms, hearts for love, ladybugs for good fortune, and small, rolled pieces of paper with something written on it - anything that holds a special meaning for the person baking the cupcakes and the people they will be shared with.

The mix is then poured in muffin cups and baked. Right after midnight, each person in the family gets an equal amount of cakes, and sees what the New Year will bring them.

I happened to be on the phone with my sister, last year, while I was preparing the cakes; she told me to put in something special for her, something she would like. Since travel is her greatest passion, I put in a small paper with the writing “surprise vacation” and a small charm shaped as a passport. At midnight, I announced that one of the cakes was for Aunt Patrizia, and we all were stunned when both travel charms were found inside the cake I had selected for her.

What’s even crazier, at the time neither of us knew that my parents had decided to give my sister a special gift, and had bought her a plane ticket to come and see me, as a surprise to both of us.

So, this is one of our New Year’s traditions. My family has been having fun with it for many years, and I thought it was time I pass it along. After all, a little sprinkle of magic and games never hurts anyone, and makes life more fun.

Wish cake, anyone?

When the Walls Start Crumbling Down

“Letting go doesn’t mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be.” ~ Anonymous


Christmas Eve was the day for a little home-building at the Carrington-Smiths. As we do every year, we purchased three gingerbread house kits – one for each child – extra icing and candy, and plenty of little extras to add to the decorations.

Thursday morning, the kids could hardly wait through breakfast to get started. We set all the supplies out on the kitchen table and proceeded to open the kits. To our disappointment, the walls in one of the kits were broken. “No fear,” I told the kids feeling more ambitious than normal, “we can try to fix the walls with a little icing before we set them up.” It sounded like a fun project to tackle…my son held the broken pieces and I squirted icing in between them; we then pushed the pieces together and waited until they dried out. By the time we had “glued” all the walls – each was broken in three or four pieces – I was halfway glued together myself, and certainly wore enough icing to be certifiably decorated for the holidays.

We finally set our fixed walls on the tray. It took but a handful of seconds for the whole structure to collapse. My kids looked at the house and then at me in horror, and tried to guess my next reaction. Indeed, my thoughts battled between throwing the blistered thing into the trash and trying again; finally I made a decision: Was there really a point in forcing together something that obviously was not meant to work? I could try to glue the pieces together one more time, but if they fell out once, they were probably going to crumble under the weight of the roof again. It was time to count my losses and go back to the store.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I was immediately reminded of the reason why I never go to the store on Christmas Eve – the parking lot was full and people were acting as if we were storing bunkers in preparation for a nuclear explosion. After being blessed with a parking spot – compliments of a lady who left when I got there – I made my way into the store. I went straight to the table where the gingerbread house kits were displayed, picked one up and headed toward the cash register. As I got ready to get in line, the automatic doors of the store opened to allow a lady in. She took a few steps toward the produce section, and then she thunderously yelled: “Happy Holidays, everybody!”

Serial killers could have been shopping that day, yet she didn’t care – her spirit was just too full of joy to be selective about the people she sent good wishes to. Watching that display of pure and unconditionally positive energy made me smile and it made my trip to the store quite special. If I had stayed home and continued to force together pieces that no longer fit, I would have missed this beautiful moment.

Sometimes we feel that by letting go of something that no longer works we are giving up on it, but in reality we are only accepting the fact that some things are just not meant to work. When the cracks are too deep, and efforts to fix the situation have failed, it is best to let go and make room for something new. The new gingerbread house only took a few minutes to put together since the walls were healthy and strong, and once the kids finished decorating it, it turned into a little masterpiece. The walls we weren’t able to use also went to serve a good purpose – we spread peanut butter and sprinkled birdseed on them for the wild animals living behind our house. What started as a disaster turned into a fun lesson to learn, and in the end we all had a wonderful time.

Happy Holidays!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good morning everybody!

We are ready to get on the road to go celebrate Christmas with our family, but I just had to stop by a moment to wish everyone a wonderful holiday.

I hope that each of you will find comfort and joy on this day. We readily assume that this is a day everyone will spend with family and friends, but for some who don't have family nearby - or are alone due to other reasons or circumstances - holiday celebrations can be a little tough. Especially to those alone today, I wish you that somehow, the spirit of the season will finds its way to you and will hold you into a warm embrace.

Have a wonderful Christmas everybody. :-)

The Angel Who Left Before Christmas

Lucia Salanti Venturi – an honorary consul with the General Italian consulate in Philadelphia – was laid to rest yesterday. Her death came as a shock to her friends and family, when she passed away at Duke Hospital on Sunday, after having fallen ill just a few days before.

Her funeral mass was held on Wednesday at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in Raleigh, and it was a memorable event. There is something to be said about the beauty and depth of a Catholic service, even when the time comes to say goodbye to a lovely lady who touched the lives of so many people.

I sat in one of the back pews with my daughter, and had to swallow tears a few times. Here was a wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend who had made Christmas plans with her family, had looked forward to seeing her grandchildren after Santa’s visit, and had probably planned to cook for an army the way Italian women always do; nothing had prepared her, or her family, for this untimely departure, and yet before anyone could even wrap their minds around the thought, she was gone.

When I saw her two weeks ago, I gave her a small Poinsettia for Christmas, and I remember she didn’t even want to accept it, and told me I shouldn’t have gone through the trouble; now, I am glad she accepted it, for it was the last chance I had to do something nice for her, even if at the time I had no way of knowing her journey was coming close to its end.

Most of us make long-term plans, and often postpone things we would enjoy until the time is right, but that time might never come – this moment might be our greatest asset, and the last chance we have to kiss our children, to tell someone we love them, to take a small vacation somewhere, or to smile to a complete stranger.

I know it has been discussed many times before, but I can’t stress enough just how important it is to forgive and forget, to live and be happy, to reach out to others and be happy for them, regardless of circumstances. So many things seem important when we weigh them on a scale of pride and ego, but in reality they have no substance.

During the mass, I couldn’t help noticing that many of the pews were empty on two sides of the massive church. It wasn’t because there weren’t enough people who had come to pay their last respects, but because during painful moments humans tend to be drawn to one another, and they instinctively pull together. This innate closeness is something we crave any time we face sadness and pain; anyone can probably think back about personal or public tragedies, when people who had never even met before hugged and held one another, finally able to overcome that unnecessary distance we normally, somehow, set between ourselves and others.

We shouldn’t have to only come together during times of sorrow. We have the ability to reach out and reconnect on any given day, if we can just get past unimportant issues. Today is what we have; no sense in wasting it, waiting for a tomorrow which might never come.

Spicing Up The Holidays

Have you ever wondered why so many holiday dishes and beverages are flavored with spices such as cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and ginger?

Holiday gatherings are meant to spread cheer, and are an occasion to enjoy the fruits of our hard labor. After the feast, everyone is expected to go back to their regular lives, and resume their daily tasks. Before we start something new, it is customary to engage in rituals or prayers that will bring good fortune in the days ahead, and we often eat or drink specific foods and beverages that hold a certain symbolism; on new year’s eve, for example, we eat greens for prosperity, and toast with bubbly champagne to augur happy, successful moments to come.

So, what about spices? Do we simply use them because they are flavorful, or are there other reasons connected to the origins of their widespread use? Aside from their antibacterial properties – which proved to be very useful during pre-refrigeration days – each spice is said to have a unique magical power. By adding the spices to food and beverages, it was believed that the food itself would become magical and, once consumed, would ensure good fortune to the person eating it.

Ginger is believed to bring on great wealth; cinnamon is believed to bring success, and “speed up” the time of manifestation of that which we desire, while nutmeg is famous for bringing good luck; a sprinkle of nutmeg on potatoes – which are often used to represent humans - or over green candles coated with honey, is said to open the doors to prosperity. Vanilla is instead used to attract love.

A great part of this folk knowledge is lost through time, but some of the traditions it is incorporated in survive, and are dutifully observed by many. Discovering the hidden properties of different herbs and spices can be quite fascinating and entertaining, and it can certainly open the mind to some of the amazing wisdom we have mostly allowed to dissipate.

And maybe, the next time we hurriedly bite into a cinnamon roll, we’ll take a moment from our busy schedule to make a wish from the heart.

The True Story of Santa Claus

The true story of Santa Claus begins with Nicholas, who was born during the third century in the village of Patara - a Greek area at the time, which is now situated on the southern coast of Turkey. His wealthy parents, who raised him to be a devout Christian, died in an epidemic while Nicholas was still young. Obeying Jesus' words to "sell what you own and give the money to the poor," Nicholas used his whole inheritance to assist the needy, the sick, and the suffering.

Under the Roman Emperor Diocletian, who ruthlessly persecuted Christians, Bishop Nicholas suffered for his faith, was exiled and imprisoned. After his release in 325, Nicholas dedicated his life to help others. He died December 6, AD 343 in Myra and was buried in his cathedral church.

Through the centuries many stories and legends have been told of St. Nicholas' life and deeds. These accounts help us understand his extraordinary character and why he is so beloved and revered as protector and helper of those in need.

One story tells of a poor man with three daughters. Not being able to provide a dowry for his three daughters, he knew they would not find good husbands, and were therefore destined to be sold into slavery. Mysteriously, on three different occasions, a bag of gold appeared in their home, providing the needed dowries. The bags of gold, tossed through an open window, were told to have landed in stockings or shoes left before the fire to dry. This led to the custom of children hanging stockings or putting out shoes, eagerly awaiting gifts from Saint Nicholas. Sometimes the story is told with gold balls instead of bags of gold. That is why three gold balls, sometimes represented as oranges, are one of the symbols for St. Nicholas.

Nuns in France began leaving treats on St. Nicholas Eve, December 5th, for the small children of poor families. St. Nicholas' gifts were usually good things to eat: apples, oranges, nuts, and eventually cookies and sweets. The custom quickly spread across Europe and was adopted by both rich and poor.

The name Santa Claus was derived from the Dutch Sinter Klass pronunciation of St Nicholas. Early Dutch settlers in New York (once called New Amsterdam) brought their traditions of St Nicholas. As children from other countries tried to pronunce Sinter Klass, this soon became Santa Klass, which was settled as Santa Claus. The old bishop's red cloak was soon replaced with his red suit and clothing seen in other modern images.

http://www.stnicholascenter.org/Brix?pageID=38

The Little Sticky Note

“Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” ~ George Iles

Last night I was reading of a young girl who walked around with a bag of pennies and dropped them randomly for people to find. When someone asked her why she did it, her reply was just as candid as it was profound: “I want everyone to feel lucky today.”

Reading that story made me smile, and it took me back to a few years ago when, with no specific motive, I wrote down the words “I believe” on a whole bunch of sticky notes and left them in different places I went – doctor’s office, grocery store, post office. I don’t know what, if anything, happened to those notes, but I know that one of them made a difference in one person’s life. This particular day, I had stopped by a drug store near my house at the time, and dropped a few of the notes here and there, without paying attention where I left them. Since I went to this store quite often, and was pretty much familiar with most of the people who worked there, I noticed one day, a couple of months later, that one of them was missing from the team; I inquired at the cash register, and I was told that she had left.

A few more months passed, and fate allowed me to run into this young lady one evening at the grocery store. She looked radiant and recognized me immediately. I asked her how life was treating her and she replied that she had never been so happy - her husband had gone back to work after recovering from a terrible accident, and she was back in school to finish her degree which she had to abandon when he no longer could financially provide for the two of them. After his accident, he could not work for several weeks, and they had fallen behind with their bills. If that wasn’t enough, her own health was not good, and her diabetes – a condition she was diagnosed with since her teen years – had taken a turn for the worse.

She told me that one day, a few months before, she had gone to work feeling particularly depressed; everything in her world seemed to have lost its colors and she could not see any light at the end of the tunnel she was walking through. Until she saw a bright yellow sticky note near a pile of sweaters stacked on a sale table. “It was as if in that moment God was nudging me to go on when I felt I couldn’t walk any more” she said, “those two little words - I believe – stared me down and I suddenly knew it would all pass.”

After finding the note, her attitude changed, and she took each obstacle not as a defeat but as a test to her faith. She focused on the good things she had in her life – a loving husband, a good manager who allowed her to stay home when her husband needed her, and the fact that despite everything, they had enough money to live on. When her husband went for a check-up a couple of weeks later, his doctor was amazed at his progress, and within a few more weeks he was able to work again. Her own blood sugar was back under control as well.

When we think of helping someone, the first thing that comes to mind is that we don’t have enough money to share with others, but physical outreach isn’t the only way to help our fellow humans. Everyone is rich enough to share a kind word, or to give a gift of hope when others can no longer find it for themselves. Even a penny, or a little sticky note, can bring light where there is only darkness.

Be careful what you wish for...you might get it

"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson


I believe that prayers are answered. I also believe that Universe indulges us exactly with what we ask – if we are not clear when we formulate our request, the result will be just as ambiguous as the petition. Among a list of situations I have personally experienced, I think three of them really drive the point home.

As I explain the first situation, I need to backtrack a bit to the time when I first finished writing my novel. After many rejections, it was suggested to me that I should hire a professional editor to clean the story and make it appealing to major publishers. I had no clue how to find an editor, but I knew exactly what I wanted in one and told a couple of friends about it. Just a few days later – and a lot of prayers detailing exactly what I was looking for – a friend called me. She told me that another friend of hers had gotten back in touch with her after years they hadn’t talked, and she thought of me the moment she reconnected with the old friend, since this lady was a freelance editor and my friend knew I was looking for one. We hit it off immediately and an amazing professional relationship was born; if I went around the world twice with a flashlight I could not find another jewel like her.

The second situation involves my oldest son. In first grade he had a teacher from hell. The poor kid cried every morning at the thought of being in her class, and no matter how many times I talked to the school, little changed. One night, I went over a friend and we decided to meditate together. In my spiritual tradition, I was taught to “act out” prayers to send out stronger vibes into the Universe. A Barbie doll was the closest thing I could think of which reminded me of the type of person I wanted as my son’s teacher - young, always smiling and kind. I threw the doll into the fire we had built outside and mentally asked for Stephen to find a teacher who could be just as sweet as I picture Barbie to be. A couple of months went by, and Stephen got a new teacher; a young lady who had just started her teaching career, with long blond hair, blue eyes, and the sweetest smile ever. Needless to say, we had a wonderful year; the new teacher was everything I had hoped for, and she was just as beautiful inside as she was outside.

The third and final situation is funny, if one thinks of it. After my novel was sold, my mind started moving to the next goal, and I began to fantasize about getting my writing into movies. I think I phrased my wish just like that, and that’s exactly what I got. My novel didn’t become a movie –which is what I meant – but I was contacted by someone who read my blog to see if I could help with a few scenes in an independent film. Still in reference to the novel, I tried to broadcast good energy out to the Universe, and I visualized selling a whole lot of copies. In my fantasy, I saw the publisher write down a number – 100,000 – and just about a week after that, I dug out an old money clip from the sandbox at the nearby playground; it was gold-plated, and on the top it had the design of a 100,000 banknote!

So, before we send out a prayer or a wish of any kind, let’s remember to be clear in what we are asking, as we just might get what Universe thought we meant.

One Step at a Time

A few days ago, I took my daughter to the park after school. She quickly made friends and started playing with another little girl there, while I settled on a bench in the sun to read.

The other girl’s mother was busy holding the hands of a tiny little boy who was just taking his first steps; I tried to get into the book I had with me, but my eyes kept wandering back toward the efforts the little one was making. With fist-size feet planted on the ground, and a glimmer of determination in his eyes, the little boy was ready to take the world; his mother could barely hold him, as he excitedly tried to project forward, step after step. Watching him tackle this daunting task with such eagerness was inspiring in the least.

When we find ourselves in front of a new project – or even have an overwhelming list of things to do – many of us feel that what’s ahead is an impossible feat; so we procrastinate, in the hope of delaying the beginning of what we believe to be a very hard project. We are afraid of not getting everything done; we are afraid of being judged by others; we are afraid of starting something new because we don’t know if we can master the skill. Indeed, the common denominator to all that holds us back is fear of failing.

As adults we think too much, and not always with the right mind set. Rather than looking foolish in front of others, we’d rather sit back and let life pass us by. That baby wasn’t thinking; he was simply ‘being’; every cell in his little body was propelling him toward his goal. He didn’t care if he didn’t succeed right away; every time his legs buckled, or he fell, he was ready to get back up and try again. At one time, his mother let go of him for a few seconds; he took two steps alone and then fell on his bottom with a big smile on his face. By the time we left the park, his mother had let go a few other times, and on each occasion he had taken an extra step on his own; I would bet my next cup of coffee that within a couple of weeks he’ll be able to walk alone across a room.

When my bubbly daughter got in the car, I thought about how much she has accomplished in the five years she’s been alive, and I couldn’t help smiling at her through the rearview mirror.

It’s all about taking one step at a time, one day at a time, knowing that tomorrow we will accomplish a little bit more, just by putting one foot in front of the other.

Through the Eyes of a Child

“A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love.” ~ Mother Teresa

When I went to pick up my daughter from pre-school yesterday, I found her in the reading corner looking at picture books with another child. I saw her pointing at one of the pictures in the book she was holding and laughing, and I wondered what she found funny in it - it was a picture of baby Jesus in the manger, surrounded by the three wise men bearing gifts.

Her teacher came along, took the book from her, and told her that it wasn’t a funny book and she shouldn’t be laughing at the pictures in it. I was stunned. Not by the fact that a small child was laughing at a picture, mind you, but at the thought that an adult allegedly trained to deal with children couldn’t tell the difference between a derisive laugh and an expression of joy. The two kids were enjoying the pictures, and looking at them made them happy; the fact alone that they would erupt into random laughter without a reason apparent to adults could possibly only be explained by the one grown-up person on earth who shares a child-like spirit, the Dalai Lama.

Inner joy is not something planned or in any way related to outside influences, but an inner state which is self-feeding and self-propagating. So, should we really teach our children that it is not okay to be joyful?

Having been raised in a fairly conservative environment, I am very familiar with – and a strong supporter of – self-discipline; I believe that one should not allow emotions to cloud our better judgment and get in the way of sound decisions set in place for our greater good, yet I believe that inner joy is such an asset that it should never be stifled.

A joyful person is always joyful, regardless of what’s happening in the outside world; even when trying events take place, the upset is only momentary, and the mood quickly shifts back to its natural state because joy stems from within and it’s barely stroked by circumstances. Many confuse happiness with joy, but the two are about as alike as silk and satin – both are soft and pleasant to the touch, but their origin and overall nature are different. Happiness can be exhilarating, but it is not constant. It shifts with the outside currents and can easily come and go depending on the presence – or lack – of external feeds.

Unless traumatized by unfriendly circumstances, children are joyful until adults get in the way telling them it is wrong to feel that way. A large portion of adults act foolish in the attempt of recapturing the essence of joy they felt as children, but they unfortunately seek joy where only happiness can be found. When the link to joy is criticized or abruptly interrupted, the child quickly looks for the closest substitute, happiness from the outside world.

When we walked outside, I asked my daughter what made her laugh while looking at the book. She looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes and said: “It was a picture of baby Jesus, Mommy; He was so cute that I wanted to hold Him.”

Counting Down to Christmas

As the countdown to Christmas day continues, some are in the clutches of panic. “Two weeks!” exclaimed a lady to a friend, as they were waiting in line at a food kiosk in the local mall to grab a quick bite between one purchase and the other, “all I have is two weeks. How can I get everything done, in such little time?”

It wasn’t the words, as much as her shrill, nervous tone of voice that caught my attention. She was indeed frazzled. Although she was attempting to make small talk with her friend, describing her lengthy list of chores, she continued snapping at her two small children and darting her eyes back and forth as if ready to run for her life. Similarly, I’ve heard others referring to Christmas as something they couldn’t wait to pass, as if they were talking about a flu virus. Is this what Christmas has become, a dreaded list of chores?

Christmas is a time to love, to spread cheer and connect to others; it is a time of inner rebirth and renewal of the self, but for many it’s one of the most stressful times of the year. We have become so consumed with the importance of appearance and glitter that we are concerned of the way others will judge us if we can’t keep up with our “lists”. Sometimes, we just need to sit back and take a deep breath to see that things are not as overwhelming as they seem; if we don’t get everything done perfectly, life will continue, the sun will continue to rise and set, and all will still be okay.

Realistically, everyone could shop for all they need in one day. Most chain stores and malls carry a plethora of items, aimed at pleasing everybody. Something can always be found, even at the last minute. What truly matters in the gift giving business is the fact that we have taken the time to want to honor those we love with a small token which doesn’t necessarily need to match something on their wish list. Gift cards can be our friends, too. Those who don’t have the financial availability to shop much can probably afford one trip to a craft store to buy paper and a couple of markers; make nice, homemade, individualized cards, including a hand-written coupon for the type of personal help our loved ones might need.

Cooking is another puzzle I can’t find the pieces for; I hear people, two weeks ahead of Christmas, say the need to start cooking; what possibly can they have to cook that takes so long? Grandma will not be rolling in her grave if we aren’t baking her special sausage rolls recipe this year.

Christmas shouldn’t be about getting anxious over things that truly don’t reflect the spirit of the season. It is more important to smile and be kind to a stranger, than it is to stress over societal impositions. Let love be the main course, the rest is only garnish.

The Power of Being

“I cannot tell you any spiritual truth that deep within you don't know already. All I can do is remind you of what you have forgotten.” ~ Eckhart Tolle


Since the early days in the history of our world, mankind has been on an endless search of the self and God. Going back to ancient times, our need to connect to someone or something higher than ourselves has inspired individuals to create complicated rituals aimed at reaching a higher consciousness. In many cases, the universal need of establishing a connection has been exploited by institutions to exercise control over the masses and serve the personal agendas of a few. This process has been made possible by a far-spreading propaganda which has painted God as an inaccessible entity one must seek without, even if the Bible itself (Luke 17:21) teaches us that the kingdom of God is within us.

Our first step to finding God within is through acceptance – not necessarily acceptance of situations but of the way we feel about them. We spend a great portion of our lives fighting the wave, and rejecting the simple truth of just being. Once we overcome our obsession of controlling how everything should be, we allow our experiences to manifest directly from the mind of the Creator, pure and unspoiled by human assumptions.

If we can get to the point of looking at another form of life and just feel love toward it before our mind has the chance to add labels and shelve what’s in front of us within the compartments of an illusionary life hierarchy, what we experience in that moment is God’s love – unconditional, all-serving and powerful. Labels are created by the ego because of its desperate need to quantify something which cannot be quantified. An absence of labels robs the moment of illusion and leaves only the pure essence of it.

According to the Flower Sermon, toward the end of his life the Buddha took his disciples to a quiet pond for instruction. As they had done in the past, the followers sat in a small circle around him, and waited for the teaching. But this time the Buddha had no words. He reached into the muck, pulled up a lotus flower and he held it silently before them, its roots dripping mud and water. The disciples were greatly confused. Buddha quietly displayed the lotus to each of them, and in turn the disciples did their best to understand the meaning of the flower, without much success. When at last the Buddha came to his follower Mahakasyapa, the disciple suddenly understood. He smiled and began to laugh. Buddha handed the lotus to Mahakasyapa and began to speak. “What can be said I have said to you,” smiled the Buddha, “and what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa.” Mahakashyapa became Buddha’s successor from that day forward.

There are no labels to describe the energy of God, or Its power, just as there are no labels to properly describe who or what anything is. Simply being sets us free from the chains of illusion and the kingdom of ego.

The Dream of Reality

“Enlightenment begins with disillusionment.” ~ Crewmax


Someone once asked me how I can tell the difference between reality and fantasy. What if – this person asked – what we perceive as “reality” is indeed a dream, something made out by our subconscious, and we aren’t really living it after all but only believing we are?

That question got me thinking. Indeed, is it possible that we aren’t living at all, and we are just dreaming our lives? Could we be caught in a very sophisticated dream state science hasn’t been able to identify yet, a state of the art virtual life our spirit is “living” to understand certain concepts? After all, dreams are a tool our minds use to organize thoughts.

Of course, this would be a discussion which could go off in many different tangents, but one of the things that are interesting to ponder is what we perceive as reality and what we perceive as illusion. Since early childhood, we are taught that ‘real” things must be measured through the five senses, and nothing which can’t be confirmed in a controlled environment should be considered real. Nothing is further from the truth. Physical attraction, for example, can be analyzed through physical signs, but true love can’t; connecting hands can be seen by others, but spiritual or emotional connection – although just as real and powerful as holding hands with someone – cannot be fully proven.

Very often, what we perceive as real through our taught patterns of rational thinking is in fact just something we have learned in our environment; if we were raised by different people, in a different society, or with different values, we would likely rationalize events differently. In the western world especially, we have come to associate our identity with what we have. The more we physically “own” – beauty, financial affluence, friends – the better we feel about ourselves. We perceive the golden ones as having everything they desire because they deserve it; if we don’t have those things, then we aren’t worth our own self-love or the love of others.

Having is not as important as being. Each of us is a unique aspect of creation, and as such we are indispensable, regardless of what we have or don’t have. Jesus himself had nothing, yet His passage on earth is still touching people two thousand years later. By the time we leave this earthly plane, what will count will be whatever we have done for others, not what we have done for ourselves. We can’t aspire to elevate our souls until we are able to detach from the rational illusion of being what we have.

We can certainly joke around and say we are living a dream, but unfortunately, for many, the dream is a nightmare; at least until they awaken, and realize that reality can only be found at the core and Armani isn’t the one who designed it.

A Path to Neverland

“Don’t be pushed by your problems. Be led by your dreams.” ~ Author unknown


Yesterday I went with my daughter to watch the Disney on Ice show. As expected, it was quite amazing – the music, the lights, the special effects and costumes validated, once again, the quality of entertainment Disney is able to deliver.

It was pure delight to watch my daughter’s face light up when the first handful of characters came out, but what truly amazed me was the fact that just a few minutes into the show I was swept away and carried into a land of dreams.

As an adult, it is hard to explain that feeling. Watching the old familiar characters parade on the ice, and being suddenly transported back to a time in my life when worries and obligations didn’t exist and everything was magical, allowed me to tap into a place in my heart most adults don’t visit too often.

Just a few days ago I was listening to a song by Supertramp on the radio, The Logical Song, in which the author speaks of a time in his life when everything was magical and he was in tune with beauty and creation; after he was sent away to school and he was taught to direct his thinking to satisfy the demands of society, he lost touch with his inner child; the beauty around him was gone, taking away with it his sense of self.

Certainly, to survive within the folds of society we are required to refine some of our thinking and skills, but we should never completely lose touch with the part of ourselves which connects to a simpler world, a peaceful land where everything is possible.

Unguarded emotions can be dangerous and can quickly lead to dangerous depths if one is not cautious of their overwhelming power, but even when following a rigorous regime of self-discipline, one should still hold on to the invisible cord connecting us to our inner child and to the possibility that dreams can be turned into reality if enough passion, effort and dedication are poured into them. As Gail Devers once said, "All dreams are possible for those who believe."

When we stop dreaming, we forget who we truly are. Simple pleasures are the precious stones bejeweling the path to personal bliss. By following their dazzling light we might, in the end, find the path to Neverland.

The Driver Behind the Wheel

We often associate cars with the people who drive them. On occasion, we assume we can judge the lifestyle of someone just by the type, or condition, of car they own. In fact, the majority of people who want nicer cars don’t want the cars because they offer more comfort, but choose them because of their value as a status symbol.

Associating a car to a driver is the same as associating our body with who we really are. Our body is but a vehicle our soul uses to exist on this plane, no more, no less. The type of body we have, the physical dents, scratches, and occasional mechanical failures do not reflect on the silent self who dwells quietly within the confines of the vehicle. Although we are responsible for regular maintenance and general care, we cannot prevent certain “accidents”.

The driver is still the same person, whether the car runs smooth as oil, or sputters like a buffalo with asthma; whether it is a shiny Mercedez or a faded Oldsmobile. What counts is that the driver realizes the car is simply an object, a mean of transportation from point A to point B; regardless of how beat-up or how unfashionable it is, it is a bundle of metal and glass which has only one real mission: that of allowing the driver to move and function within the environment he lives in. If someone dents one of the doors or scratches the paint, they have not scratched or dented the driver.

Understanding this concept is essential in our assessment of all that affects us. If we take an honest look, most events, people and “life storms” only affect our body, or the very same feelings that are born of it. Most often, that which is crushed in a confrontation is our ego. Sensations born from our ego, such as pride, vulnerability, fear and pain, are not related to our spirit. Our spirit cannot be injured, broken or killed, as it is birthless and deathless; it lives quietly within the folds of our heart, observes everything, and records each experience.

Remembering this simple analogy can help us when dealing with a painful ordeal, and can help guide us toward making sound decisions. When we stop at a dangerous intersection, it would be foolish to allow our car to decide which way to turn. We, the driver, must assess the best path to reach our destination safely. We can do that by listening to ourselves, being careful to note that the guidance is coming from a place of unconditional love rather than from one ruled by our ego. And if our headlights shine clean and bright, we might even be able to guide another soul who’s lost in the darkness of the night.

A Project for the Holidays

Do you remember the snow monster in Christmas movies – the one that Santa was able to change from bad to good with a gift? I watched that movie last night with my children, and it made me think of how easy it is to reach out to others.

Among the people we know, there is always at least one snow monster. I, for one, have met a few; they put on a very strong front to intimidate others because they have been previously hurt, and feel the need to wear a spiked armor for protection. Deep down, they are sensitive and caring, vulnerable and afraid, but on the surface they come through as an ice storm, ready to attack the opponent with icy daggers.

In the movie, when Santa gives him the gift, the snow monster is surprised, and is unsure of what he should do. All he’s ever received, up to this point, are fear and anger – the only possible responses to his threatening, cold and heartless behavior. Suddenly, despite his tough appearance, someone is offering him a gift. The monster is at a loss; his chest deflates, his eyes open wider, and he humbly asks Santa what he should do from then on, since he has never learned to be good. His rough, scary appearance is gone, and is replaced by a gentle demeanor.

So, should we follow Santa’s example and give gifts to mean people? Maybe we should. They can be material gifts - if one feels so inclined - but what will truly “thaw” the snow monsters are things money can’t buy: a hug, a kind word, a bit of human warmth. They expect swords and arrows; an offer of unconditional love will slice through the rough peel and reach the soft core.

The response is quite amazing. At first, they might even get uglier, as the sweet words will burn a hole in the icy crust, and the “monsters” will feel suddenly vulnerable. They might remain speechless, as they have never prepared answers for a positive exchange, but at that point, the magic has begun; that one single, tiny seed of love will burrow in their hearts and grow, and may be the catalyst for incredible changes ahead.

We can make this a project for the holidays – that of thawing as many snow monsters as we can, and give them the chance to experience a Christmas miracle, maybe for the first time in their lives. As my grandmother once said: “The mightier and uglier they appear, the more they need to be loved. If you give out gifts, would you not want to hand them out to the real needy? Love is no different.”

The Wind and The Mountain

“No matter how the wind howls, the mountain does not move” ~Chinese proverb

If one can imagine a mountain during a storm, it is easy to visualize trees being swept from side to side, little animals scurrying around looking for shelter, and even an occasional bolt of lighting as it mercilessly hits an unfortunate tree; the wind howls fiercely, quickly impregnating the forest with the echo of its inconsolable cry.

For a few terrifying moments, which seem to have no apparent end on sight, the air itself is swollen with fear and apprehension, and every creature’s heart beats faster at the rhythm of a primal song, haunting and unknown.

When the storm lets down, and the wind dies out, damage is widespread - Some trees are down; leaves are everywhere; the valley is flooded by rainwater. Yet, aside from superficial damage, the mountain hasn’t moved.

When we are surprised by a life storm, we are hardly ever prepared. As the winds of change blow through our relationships, or through any of the sanctuaries of our self-security, fear washes over us, and we hope for the best while expecting the worst.

Regardless of how strong the storm is – and how severe the superficial damage to our lives may appear – our inner core remains untainted. As long as we choose to identify our solidity with the damage we observe in our superficial surroundings, we are under the false illusion that our world is falling apart, when all that is coming undone is only the part of our lives which needs to be cleansed and renewed. Under the surface, where the true foundation of our being resides, we remain untouched. Our inner ground is cleansed and enriched by the storm, and will support future growth sprouted by seeds blown in our direction, fed by the decomposing debris.

The mountain does not move; it never did and never will, no matter how hard the wind can ever dream to blow.

One More Step - Challenging Our Limitations

"Few men during their lifetime come anywhere near exhausting the resources dwelling within them. There are deep wells of strength that are never used." Richard E. Byrd


When we were kids and complained about being exhausted, my father always told my sister and I the story of a friend of his; this lady – Marina was her name – was a small lady, maybe about 5’2” and weighing only around 100 pounds. Marina had a little boy, Francesco, who was curious just like little boys should be but whose nickname really should have been Menace – Francesco could not function if he didn’t get himself in danger at least once a day.

One day, Francesco got into more danger than it was daily allowed, and after sneaking out into a shop in his backyard his grandfather used to repair antique furniture, he pulled a very heavy dresser over himself. Francesco screamed as he fell back, and thankfully his mother heard him. When Marina saw what had happened, she had no time to lose; she knew her husband and father were not around, and it would have taken too long to summon help – it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Without even thinking, she pulled the dresser up and away from her son, who was soon after taken to the hospital and diagnosed with three broken ribs and a fractured pelvis. When Marina told her family and the emergency personnel what happened, and how she had moved the dresser with her bare hands, everyone was skeptical; the dresser – her father confirmed – weighed approximately two and a half times her body weight.

It is not uncommon to hear of people performing incredible feats while in the grips of fear or anger. Indeed, the two are powerful forces, and it is understandable that they would drive someone to reach beyond their point of tolerance. What is quite interesting, though, is the fact that many of the things we think we cannot do are in fact manageable if we can shift our focus from our set limitations to the untapped well of our potential.

The past few years, I have set a small challenge with myself – whenever I feel I have reached capacity, I stop and truly analyze how I feel in that moment. Most of the time, we convince ourselves that we have reached the maximum of what we can do way before we are really spent. As a car’s gas gauge lights up several miles before a tank is truly empty, so do our tolerance triggers. No matter how exhausted we are – or how hopeless we feel – there is always a small reservoir we can tap into to temporarily regenerate and make it a few more steps. While I was in labor with my children, I almost gave up on refusing pain medication during the deliveries. I tried to focus on the fact that nobody had ever died of pain, and if I held off, my babies would be healthy and alert; that thought alone was a shot of resolve and I made it through the last few excruciating hours.

In many cases, wanting to give up is only normal; following through with it is no different than abandoning the car in the middle of the highway, and walking off while we still had enough fuel to make it to the next gas station.

Teachers in Disguise

Last night I lay in bed for a while thinking about the people who have been the greatest teachers in my life. What came to mind was quite amazing. I realized that those who have taught me most were not wise men or even educated people, but mostly common folks I met on ordinary occasions. All of them entered my life unexpectedly, and certainly left a mark upon their departure.

You see, sometimes the teachers are not the ones who are in our lives to remain, but those who only come in for a short while and upset the natural order of things during their brief stay. As they walk in, they quickly take on a center role, and become very important to us; we respect them, like them, even reflect ourselves into them. They may open our eyes to certain realities we had not considered before, or even force us to readjust our list of priorities, but their presence rarely goes unnoticed. When they leave – usually just as abruptly as when they arrived - they leave us with a mindful of questions and a feeling of void upon their departure.

Some of the most important teachers – those who have the potential of being catalysts for real change in our lives – are the people who have provoked or created some sort of strife. Their role is rarely a long one, and they accomplish their task in a breath of time; they may come into our lives disguised as a spouse, a lover, a spouse’s mistress, a belligerent co-worker, or even an overly dramatic friend. Their role is to jolt us out of the stagnant, repetitive pattern we have cozily allowed ourselves to find comfort in, and they can only complete their mission through high-charge actions that trigger powerful emotions within us.

By creating an emotional charge with their arrival, stay or departure, our teachers give us the necessary fuel, or the awareness we need, to make important decisions which will affect the way we approach life.

If we can look past the superficial negative connotation of the events that unfolded, we will see that we wouldn’t be who we are today had it not been for some of their input. We may be a better or worse person after meeting them, but that’s only because of the choices WE made in response to their actions. Their presence in our lives only had the purpose of triggering a choice or a different perception; which path we picked at the crossroads of our decisions was strictly up to us; even if one has horrible role models around as a child, they have the choice of following in their caregivers’ footsteps or going the opposite direction, using the example provided to them as a map of the unwanted zone they do not wish to walk into.

In my own life, I’ve met many teachers, young and old, kind and grouchy, rich or very poor; some have beautified my existence, while some have showed me a blueprint of hell; nevertheless, they have all taught me something, and I can only be grateful for the opportunity to have them in my life, even if only for a short while.

The Gift Box

Walking through the mall around Christmas time is an experience in itself. The air is impregnated with a fusion of warming aromas, and people look like a colony of ants, walking in and out of shops and carrying loads greater than their body weight. In the midst of all this, the main attraction is Santa, the magical old fellow dressed in red, surrounded by a mob of excited children and a line of weary moms, relieved that their little darlings’ outfits are still perfect for the picture with the good elf.

But what stands out most are the decorations; lots of them, bright and cheerful, crafty and classy, displayed along the hallways and inside overcrowded stores. In the window of one of these shops I saw something which caught my wandering eye: An array of beautifully wrapped gift boxes, stacked neatly for all to see, their sparkling wrapping paper glimmering in the bright spotlights beside a layout of expensive accessories.

Growing up with a mother who owned a retail store, I’m all too familiar with the grandiosity of Christmas decorations to attract business; after all, who would not be enticed by a gorgeous gift box, wrapped in gold paper and skillfully adorned with an exquisite velvet bow? To the exhausted eye of the tired Christmas shopper it’s a mirage of sorts.

As a child, I was in love with boxes such as those. They always had a special power over me; something looking that pretty had to contain an amazing gift. One day, curiosity had the best of me, and I sneaked out one of the beautiful “gifts”, eager to finally discover what incredible surprise was guarded within the refined packaging. I gently removed the ribbon with trembling hands – in part, probably, out of fear that my mother was going to catch me – and prepared to pull the tape which kept the beautiful paper tightly folded against the hard box. When I removed the paper and found a simple cardboard box I was slightly disappointed, but nothing had prepared me for the shuttering surprise once I finally lifted the lid: There was nothing in the box but tissue paper! Was this what I had risked getting in trouble for? I didn’t know whether to feel angry or upset; my beautiful gift, the one I had dreamt upon - and built castles in the air over - was nothing but an empty box.

As childish as that experience was, it taught me something very important that day: a gift can never be judged by the packaging it is wrapped in. Growing up, I realized the same applies to people.

Some of the most amazing people we meet don’t come in pretty packages; they may look or act rough; they may be someone we can’t imagine associating with; yet, they may yield a wonderful gift. The content of what they offer is precious, but it is presented humbly as they have no need to impress anybody, or blind anyone with artificial luster. The gift will stand for itself.

When Angels Sing

Yesterday I attended my daughter’s recital at her preschool. After everyone was seated, the music teacher introduced the different classes and directed each group to their assigned places in the chapel. The program consisted of several songs the children had to sing and play with simple instruments. Photographs were prohibited until the end of the show to avoid distracting the little performers.


The first to line up were the animals, including Morgan who was dressed as a donkey. Following, entered Joseph and Mary, who – terror written on their little faces at the thought of being the main characters – took their places by the manger and stood facing the crowd while fighting the urge to pick at their costumes.


As the narration of the Nativity continued, and the songs were sung, there wasn’t a somber face in the room. There is something very special about a group of little children coming together and singing. While I am sure that teachers stressed the point of remaining composed during the performance, I was amused to see a fair share of tiny hands being raised to greet parents in the crowd. When Morgan saw us, she could barely contain herself – her face was so radiant and proud that it could have lit up a dark room.


One little boy teased his head dress enough that it ended up drooping on the side of his face; another had his sign language backwards, and the sweet voices of the pea-sized cast squeaked when they hit high notes; but in the end, all those little mistakes are exactly what made the show unforgettable.


We are conditioned to believe that only perfection can lead to satisfaction, but nothing could be further from the truth. As we watched these tiny beings sparkle in their own magnificence, we were all wrapped in a delightful state of awe, and our souls truly heard angels sing.


We all gave up on seeing a perfect show, and allowed the wave of improvisation to gently sweep us away to a world of heartwarming delight. By the time the performance came to an end, Christmas was definitely in the air.

The Book of Obeah is available for pre-sale on Amazon.com

The long-awaited moment is finally here...The Book of Obeah is available for pre-sale on Amazon.com, http://www.amazon.com/Book-Obeah-Sandra-Carrington-Smith/dp/1846942993/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1259757408&sr=1-1

Breaking the Code of Human Drama

“One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can’t utter.” ~ James Earl Jones


Mostly anyone who’s been around small children for any length of time has had the opportunity to see just how frustrated they become when they can’t properly express what they are trying to convey – they give in to anger and often lash out at the nearest target, or they become aloof and standoffish. Once their communication skills improve with age, their anti-social behaviors become more manageable.

A couple of days ago, one poster mentioned the fact that her father had not connected much with her and her siblings during her childhood, and for years the children had believed that their father didn’t love them. In reality, their father had cared for them deeply, but he simply didn’t know how to express his feelings.

Externalizing emotions is a learned process, as much as anything else. If one is raised in a home in which emotions are constantly guarded, they never really learn how to manage their own – they will either keep their own feelings on lock-down or they will explode in the opposite direction and allow their emotions to run out of control.

The same concept applies to a vast variety of emotions, and it is quite interesting how a display of certain responses is often the key to understanding the triggers behind one’s behavior. For example, if someone was often rebuked for being “dramatic”, they might become aloof as a direct result of the gradual conditioning, but the flair for drama will surface in different ways, such as being frequently ill or victimized somehow.

Expressing emotions has often been associated with being “weak”, and we are taught since early age that the best way to deal with negative emotions is to repress them before they take over our rational thinking. While keeping emotions in check - at a time when the free expression of them would be equal to social suicide - is often necessary, those very same feelings should be analyzed at a later time when we can do so privately. Unresolved feelings don’t just disappear; rather, they morph and pop back up when we least expect them like a Jack-in-a-box, disguised in such a way that we no longer recognize them for what they are.

James Redgrave has done a wonderful job describing the different types of human drama, and how they relate to each other. For example, if dad was an intimidator you may act as a 'poor me' back. If mom was an interrogator, you are likely to be aloof to her. Rather than getting angry at people for their behavior, it is more useful to determine what is possibly causing them to act that way.

Just knowing that others often relate to us in certain ways because they are unable to classify and express their emotions should give us an edge in shifting our focus, and teach us that we can’t assume how another feels unless we can think with their heads and feel with their hearts.

Cold Feet

“Your current safe boundaries were once unknown frontiers.” ~ Anonymous

As time passes, and the so long awaited day of publication gets closer, I have to admit that I am scared to death; I’m equally thrilled, mind you, but terrified nonetheless. What am I worried about? In all truth, I don’t even know…a bit of everything, I suppose. I worry that my cozy, routine-driven life will change, my kids will be upset if I have to travel much, and, to some extent, I guess a part of me is a bit insecure of the outcome.

I don’t think I have ever thought much about all this, but I did yesterday, as I tried to weigh my pros and cons of attending a huge book event in New York City in May. Suddenly, the thought of venturing out of NC alone felt overwhelming, and I had to smile at the feeling. Twenty years ago I took an enormous dive into the unknown when I moved here from Europe alone; it was quite challenging at first, but somehow, driven by the enthusiasm of youth, I lived through the initial obstacles. Over the years, all that was new and scary gradually leveled, and I am now completely adjusted and comfortable here.

Will the same happen next year, as a new chapter of my life – one I have dreamt of since childhood – finally starts? I know that time and experience will work wonders. Right now everything in front of me is so very new that I can’t help being a little apprehensive. Things could progress wonderfully or they could fail miserably, but if I don’t charge forward with a positive attitude I will never truly know, and I would automatically forfeit everything I have worked for. If I look back at the initial part of this journey, I can appreciate that I was equally antsy back then; I had no idea how to navigate the channels of the publishing world, I had no clue how to find an editor, an agent, a publisher, but in time all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Now that the picture has finally emerged and it is almost time to officially show it to the world, I find that I have cold feet…I hope that, as it happened in the beginning, destiny will give me a gift of warm socks.

So, thank you for listening today. Ambrose Redmoon once wrote that courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. In my heart of hearts I know that to be true. Now I can only hope that my shaking brain cells will come to agree.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying.” ~ Robert Herrick


A few days ago I went to the post office with my five-year-old daughter. While we stood in line, she talked non-stop, her little voice filling in the pockets of silence so common in an adult setting. A gentleman in front of us seemed particularly amused by her constant chatter, and turned several times to kindly smile at her; his approval infused her with even more energy – if that’s indeed possible – and she talked about everything, from Santa Claus to the playground at the park, and even about her doll that doesn’t cry anymore because she fed it too much water. She patiently waited by my side, but could not stand still for more than a couple of seconds; one or more parts of her tiny body were constantly moving, energized by the quick silver of youth.

In contrast, the gentleman in front of us appeared tired. He stood without complaining, but it was painfully obvious that he was uncomfortable. Yet, his face was kind and his smile gentle, acceptance and appreciation gracefully etched in the lines of his face.

My gaze darted back and forth from my daughter to the old gentleman several times. In front of me was the human equivalent of a day in time – my daughter was the passion and fire of sunrise, the boundless energy and hope of a new day; the kind gentleman was the sunset, with his composed and gentle energy, able to paint everything with the breathtaking colors of knowledge and wisdom accumulated throughout the day. He lacked the powerful energy of sunrise, but his gift was one of acceptance of all that can’t be changed.

And here I stood in the middle, my own presence that of midday. I realized then that I don’t have the unspoiled energy of sunrise, nor do I have the peaceful wisdom of a beautiful sunset, but I do stand on a platform between the two – I still have the energy to change things I don’t appreciate in my world, and the ability to focus on goals that are important to me. Standing in the middle of the path, I have learned that some things should just be embraced for what they are, positive or negative, while some others are still worth fighting for. I have accepted that I can’t change the world, but I am in charge of fostering my own happiness. I no longer care much about petty behaviors and superficial rewards, yet I start each day with the unbridled hope of a child on Christmas Eve.

I wondered if the old gentleman’s thoughts floated anywhere along the same lines as he watched us, two generations eagerly walking the footsteps he left behind. I wondered if he had any regrets, or any dreams he hadn’t been able to fulfill which he had stored into a drawer of his soul. Watching him filled me with resolve – why wait until tomorrow to do something about today? As Mother Teresa so wisely said: “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”

Thank You

Good morning everybody!

Last night I shared an early Thanksgiving meal with my family, and I thought of all the wonderful people who have crossed my life this past couple of years. As I went through the list, I was happy and proud to realize that I wouldn't be so blessed without your support. You guys have stuck with me and encouraged my writing, and indirectly you have made my greatest, life-long dream come true.

I will not be blogging this coming week as I'm trying to wrap up two small projects I've been working on, but before I go I would like to share a video with you which expresses exactly how I feel. Again, thank you for all the love and support; I don't know if I'd be where I am without you...:)

Please click on this link to watch the video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHVLPe_uPA4 and have a wonderful Thanksgiving. I will "see" you back next Monday.

The Twelve Days of Thanksgiving

Good morning everybody!

Since I was busy last night, and didn’t get the chance to write anything new, I thought of posting something really cute that someone sent me last Thanksgiving. I don’t know who the author is, but it might just start your day with a smile…

“The Twelve Days of Thanksgiving” ~ Author unknown

On the First Day.....
We give thanks for the fresh turkey feast and its hot trimmings.

On the Second Day.....
We bless the cold turkey sandwiches, sloshy cranberry sauce, and hard rolls.

On the Third Day.....
We praise the turkey pie and vintage mixed veggies.

On the Fourth Day.....
We thank the pilgrims for not serving bison that first time, or we'd be celebrating Thanksgiving until April.

On the Fifth Day.....
We gobble up cubed bird casserole and pray for a glimpse of a naked turkey carcass.

On the Sixth Day.....
We show gratitude (sort of) to the creative cook who slings cashews at the turkey and calls it Oriental.

On the Seventh Day.....
We forgive our forefathers and pass the turkey-nugget pizza.

On the Eighth Day.....
The word ''vegetarian'' keeps popping into our heads.

On the Ninth Day.....
We check our hair to make sure we're not beginning to sprout feathers.

On the Tenth Day.....
We hope that the wing meat kabobs catch fire under the broiler.

On the Eleventh Day.....
We smile over the creamed gizzard because the thigh bones are in sight.

On the Twelfth Day.....
We apologize for running out of turkey leftovers. And everybody says, "Amen!"

Colors of the World (repost)

When you look at it in a mean way, how mean it is! When you look at it selfishly, how selfish it is! But when you look at it in a broad, generous, friendly spirit, what wonderful people you find in it.~ Horace Rutledge

I always find it interesting that my husband and I can meet the same people and have an entirely different impression of them. Similarly, our views of current events are also very conflicting at times.

My husband sees the world as a hostile environment, where ruthless people are consistently arranging their days around taking advantage of others. He is a news addict, and will – after a day of stress and countless exchanges – use his entire evening to hear more and more distressing segments, nodding his head when someone makes a statement of impending doom.

I am the opposite side of the coin. I peruse the paper every morning but focus mostly on the positive news. I don’t believe we live in a perfect world, but I don’t believe our world is all that bad either. We have conflicts, hardship and everyday obstacles, but so has had every generation before us.

I don’t believe people are any worse today than they were yesterday; we are simply more aware of events and heinous acts because of the advent of widespread media. I don’t think there are more child molesters loose on the streets; the only difference between yesterday and today is that in the old days we didn’t know of a child who had been kidnapped three states away, and victims were more reticent to come forth and point a finger at their abusers; dirty laundry was, more or less, washed at home.

It is human nature to be fearful and doubtful. It is also another human flaw to be easily influenced by negative suggestions. Since childhood we are conditioned to be afraid and careful. Germs will hurt us; friends have a double agenda; strangers will kill us; very few caregivers ever explain to children that stress and fear make us sick worse than germs, most friends don’t have hidden plans, and the majority of strangers will only kill us with a smile. Personally, I refuse to live in a world where I have to feel fearful and defensive at all times. I do believe in destiny, and I think that if something is meant to happen to me, it will happen regardless of how paranoid or relaxed I am.

Everything in our world is dual; we can choose to look at one face of it or the other. Electricity can warm us and provide light, but can also be used to electrocute; water is healing and soothing but can also be employed to drown someone; fire is warm and inviting but can also char everything on its path; air can be uplifting and wind relaxing, yet it can carry a blaze across forested areas.

There are always two ways to look at the same thing; it is up to us to decide which color of lens we choose to wear when we take a look around.