Sandra Carrington-Smith

HOLIDAY PROMOTION!

2011-12-11T12:54:00.001-05:00

Dear friends,

Few gifts are ever appreciated more than a book. By giving a book you are gifting the recipient with hours or reading pleasure – definitely a lot of value for your hard-earned money!

This holiday, I would like to give you a gift of my own: If you suggest my books to at least five of your friends, or spread the love through five of your social networks or e-mail, I will send you a free Kindle download; if you purchase five paperbacks as Christmas presents, I will send you an autographed copy at no charge to you. Whatever you choose to do to spread the love, send me a note through the contact form on my website http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com and I will send your free copy of the book you prefer.

Here are the Amazon links you can use:
http://amzn.to/aqHlpM
http://amzn.to/tZacdu

May you and yours have a wonderful Holiday season!

Building Blocks and Dinosaurs

2011-12-01T23:08:00.001-05:00

I remember watching my children, when they were little, put a lot of time and energy into building something only to break it down and build it again. Over and over. As grateful as I was for the time they kept themselves entertained, I was also a bit puzzled that they would invest so much time creating a building, and then turn around and knock it down with a plastic dinosaur or a GI Joe’s airplane. It never occurred to me at the time that they were simply training for real life adventures.

Although as adults we create situations with real people, and we have no easy access to dinosaurs or airplanes, the majority of our adult life is spent in creating events, dramas, and relationships that regularly blow up – not too differently than the Lego bunkers my children so painstakingly built. So, it is fair to ask in a moment of drama-free sanity: Why do we go through the cycles of creation and destruction?

No, we are not trying to recapture the child within, and we are also not losing our minds. The answer is much simpler, and yet, way more profound: Through those cycles we learn who we are; we learn who other people are; most of all, we learn that even when everything crumbles around us we are still able to pick up the pieces and build anew. And this time – since we learned where the weak spots were in the past – we can build a sturdier structure that will last through time; one I would challenge any dinosaur to destroy.

Online Contest: Enter to Win Cash Prizes!

2011-06-06T09:21:00.003-04:00

This online contest is open to resident of the US, Canada and UK. Contestants are required to answer three questions on the novel, The Book of Obeah. Responses to the questions should be sent to Obeahcontest@gmail.com starting on June 10, 2011, and all entries should be received by July 30, 2011. I will select three winners by midnight on that date and notify them via e-mail. Cash prizes will be awarded through Paypal, or if winners prefer, I can arrange to send a money order. Autographed books will be sent to the address of your choice. This contest is not opened to individuals who were involved with the making of the book, to include the publisher and its affiliates, independent editors and marketing consultants.

Please answer these questions:

1 – In The Book of Obeah, Melody met several characters. Which of the characters do you think will follow her into the next book of the series, and why?

2 – Imagine the possibility of The Book of Obeah becoming a feature film. If you were the cast director, who would you cast to play the different roles?

3 – In a few words, tell me how the story should continue. Based on the information you have from the first book, what do you think should happen next?

Prizes will be awarded as such:

- First prize: $100
- Second prize: $75
- Third prize: $50

Three other winners will be awarded honorary mentions on my website, http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com and they will receive an autographed copy of the novel.

Enter today and let your friends know so that they can also qualify for a chance to win. GOOD LUCK!!!

No purchase is necessary to enter the contest. If you are interested in reading reviews or the synopsis of the novel, please visit http://amzn.to/chhyjA

30-Day Mental Diet Starting On June 1!

2011-05-26T09:35:00.002-04:00

Hello friends!

Starting on June 1st, I will post one daily tip aimed at shedding unnecessary emotional weight. The tips will be of motivational and inspirational nature, and they will either gently nudge you to think of, and shed, things that no longer serve the present reality, or they will encourage you to do something that will help to increase your self-worth. I opened a Facebook page just for this, and you can join our group effort at http://on.fb.me/jXVbLK

It is completely free to join, and there are no hidden fees. Research shows that groups can be more successful in achieving certain milestones and mental balance is certainly a goal which deserves a joint effort.

You can use the page to share with friends, post your thoughts, and offer encouragement and feedback to other people in the group.

History Repeats Itself: The Muslim Witch-hunt

2011-05-07T10:08:00.003-04:00

Of the four billion people who died in the 20th century from all causes combined, 185,000,000 deaths were caused by other humans. At 8.5 millions, murders exceed deaths related to natural disaster (including floods, earthquakes and volcanoes) by five millions. These are scary odds. They get even scarier when one thinks that many of the 'manmade' deaths are the product of hate crimes.

Sadly, since the September 11, 2001 incident, and again since the killing of Osama Bin Laden, anyone wearing eastern garments has been at risk of attracting unwanted attention, even though the individuals responsible for the 9/11 atrocities were disguised as normal Americans, and they boarded our planes wearing regular slacks, dress shirts and NOT donning a turban. The fact that two men wearing Muslim garb who were traveling to North Carolina on May 6, 2011 were removed from a plane because passengers felt uncomfortable, shows us that fear is still ruling over better judgment – if these guys were up to something, would they have worn clothes that were sure to attract attention? The ironic thing is that Masudur Rahman and Mohamed Zaghloul were traveling to Raleigh, NC to attend a conference on prejudice against Muslims, or Islamaphobia, a meeting sponsored by the North American Imams Federation. http://bit.ly/lNXEjD

Ignorance has certainly played a huge part in this process, but it is intolerable that so many people have been demonized and demoted to sub-human status because of their religious affiliations or fashion trends. Religious conflicts and wars have claimed many lives throughout history, but it must be made clear that the people responsible for those deaths are not the good and honest believers; rather, they are a minority group of fanatics and radicals who have used religion to manipulate the masses and fit their personal evil purposes.

Worldwide leaders are hoping to promote understanding and peace, but it is up to individuals to comprehend that religions are paths to love, not hatred or destruction.
As children, we were taught that one bad apple does not necessarily spoil the whole basket, but as adults we conveniently choose to trash all the apples, regardless of the fact that many of them are good and perfectly healthy. Islamic extremists are the exception, not the rule, of Islam, as much as Catholic Inquisitors or Christian Crusaders were not rightful representatives of the Christian creed.

As citizens of this country and inhabitants of this world, we need to take a hard look at the atrocities we personally commit when we simply judge good people because of their beliefs or appearance.

http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

A Mother's Day Reflection: What My Mother Taught Me Is More Valuable Than Recycling

2011-05-06T12:08:00.003-04:00

One of the mantras my mother routinely used any time I asked her for suggestions to solve certain problems in my young life was: “Assess the resources you have and create a plan.” Of course, at the time I was stuck with an issue, I didn’t think I had any resources, so I distinctly remember spending a lot of time wondering what she truly meant; as I got older I realized those words were a gift I would use many times over, and I was proud to use many of my mother’s teachings in my book Housekeeping for the Soul.

It’s amazing how much wisdom comes from our mothers – it is like a seed that is patiently and lovingly planted, only waiting to be watered by circumstances to grow to its potential. Over the years, I have come to see Mother’s Day as the perfect time to reflect upon the things my mother taught me, and to honor her presence in my life by taking steps to improve my reality.
When I stumbled into an article which discussed the innovative solution of converting methane gas produced by garbage in landfills into clean energy which is used to fuel hundreds of garbage trucks in Oakland, CA, my mother’s words instantly flashed through my mind http://bit.ly/6wzLU3.

As I discussed in Housekeeping for the Soul, we readily assume that all bad experiences we survived in our past are enemies that forced us to become unwilling warriors in a war we didn’t choose; more than anything, we blame our past, our errors, the people who created obstacles, and circumstances, and use them to make excuses for our lack of progress in the present. Those moments, recorded in our inner filing cabinet, continue to work from the shadowy chambers of our subconscious and influence our choices. But, can you imagine how wonderful it would be if we could shift our perception of those experiences and use them as fuel for our renewal?

Imagine your subconscious as being the landfill. The garbage which has been deposited into it over the years has rotted out, and the fumes it produces are toxic and constantly rising up to ruin every new thing we attempt. As the fumes reach our consciousness, they produce more garbage which is, in turn, sent to the inner landfill, and without a plan in place, we gradually become overwhelmed and unable to deal with the load.

Now imagine that we are able to capture the fumes of the garbage we have collected, and use them to fuel a process during which we will reinvent our lives. It is important to understand that nothing happens by chance, and most people and events are brought into our lives to raise awareness over certain issues we are struggling with. In other words, we need to understand the value of the energy produced. Analyzing the patterns of past experiences allows us to do that. The following tips can be used to channel the energy produced by past hurts and recycle it to benefit our present life.

- Sift through the garbage. Some experiences are the result of poor internalization, and they serve little purpose. We sometimes hold long-lasting grudges over misunderstanding and miscommunications, and we allow relationships and project be ruined because of it.
- Own up your share. Is it really always someone else’s fault? It takes two to tango, and sometimes we are responsible for the unfolding of certain events. On the other hand, some circumstances are out of our sphere of control, and we need to understand that beating ourselves is not going to change things.
- Separate your garbage from other people’s garbage and decide which is recyclable and what, instead, needs to be released for good.
- Understand that the energy produced by the garbage has an opposite which you have the freedom to tap into if you so choose. Love is the opposite of hatred, forgiveness is the opposite of resentment.
- Try different methods of recycling energy (prayer, meditation, reaching out to others in similar situations.) If one method doesn’t work, try others. The important thing is to not give up.

The secret of success is to be able to use available resources to increase your chances to overcome and conquer. Everyone can bring garbage into your life, but only you have the key to put what was dumped to good use. Thank you Mom, for teaching me that I can use my own garbage to change and improve my life. Happy Mother’s Day.

http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

On Mother's Day, Give Mom A Gift That Will Make A Difference

2011-05-04T07:30:00.005-04:00

Housekeeping for the Soul is more than a just a self help book – rather, it is a tool that facilitates the development of the reader’s own soul truth. Each chapter includes meditations and reflections, aimed at peeling off the layers of pain we have held onto over the years. Through steps that are simple for everyone to follow, the reader can shed old hurts, clean out the debris, and finally, create a different reality. When I was younger, my mother always told me that although one cannot change the world on the outside, it is possible to change the world on the inside. You too can change your life, if someone can show you how. Yes, I do agree that we can find ourselves in sticky situations at times, and some of those predicaments can be quite overwhelming, but I am also convinced that one is never truly cornered; there is always a way to improve things.

As we get closer to Mother’s Day, many of us are scrambling for ideas to honor the very special women in our lives. This year, let Mom know how much you care by giving her a gift she will treasure for a long time to come. And the best thing about Housekeeping for the Soul? For once, Mom will be able to clean AND get the rest she deserves.

http://www.amazon.com/Housekeeping-Soul-Practical-Restoring-Sanctuary/dp/1846942810

Osama Bin Laden Is Dead -- Should We Rejoice?

2011-05-02T07:30:00.002-04:00

Osama Bin Laden is confirmed dead, and as news of his demise spread, videos and reports of worldwide cheer exploded across the media. Thousands of people flocked to the streets, carrying children on their shoulders and screaming victory over evil.

I first heard of Bin Laden’s death last night, when one of my sons came downstairs and informed me of the breaking news he saw reported on CNN. We turned the TV on, and after a moment of disbelief, I was actually saddened by the reactions of the people. Yes, Osama Bin Laden was an infamous figure, and he was responsible for the death of many thousands of people all over the world, but should we really rejoice over the death of a human being?

President Obama announced to the families of the victims of 9/11 that justice is done, and his sentiment was shared by several leaders who felt Bin Laden’s death marks the end of an era, but even that statement led me to think. My heart goes out to the victims of any act of terror and their families, but how does the death of a man bring upon justice? In my opinion justice would have been served if Bin Laden was captured and tried for his crimes. His death only exonerated him from facing the consequences of his actions.

Strangely enough, Adolf Hitler, whose crimes against humanity will forever be etched in the mind of the collective, was confirmed dead on April 30, 1945. The same day, sixty-six years apart. Coincidence? Maybe so, maybe not.

I remember reading once that this world has seen two teachers of compassion – the Dalai Lama and Adolf Hitler. When I first read the statement, I found it hard to accept, but as I continued reading, I understood something different: Teachers use different teaching methods to drive the same lessons home. The Dalai Lama uses unconditional love to teach compassion, Hitler used unconditional hatred, two opposite faces of the same powerful feeling. The Dalai Lama teaches us to love one another because we are all expressions of the same creation, and Hitler taught us to see oneness by default, after people were senselessly murdered because of superficial differences.

What lesson did Osama Bin Laden teach the world during his stay on Earth? Much like Hitler, he raised negative feelings in a selected few and he caused the rest of the world to stick to one cause: Humanity. Through Bin Laden’s actions, and the actions of his followers, the world understood that we are all one despite our differences, and in the greater scheme of things we are all brothers and sisters; the tragedies that befall one befall all of us as a whole.

Bin Laden is dead, and many believe human justice is served. Is divine justice also served? As the Vatican Spokesman, Father Federico Lombardi, declared: “Osama bin Laden, as we all know, had the very grave responsibility of spreading division and hatred amongst the people, causing the death of countless of people, and of instrumentalizing religion for this end," he said. "In front of the death of man, a Christian never rejoices but rather reflects on the grave responsibility of each one in front of God and men, and hopes and commits himself so that every moment not be an occasion for hatred to grow but for peace."

Tiny Teacher

2011-04-13T09:23:00.003-04:00

Alena the goldfish is finally free. On a warm spring evening, as the sweet scent of magnolia drifted in through open windows, and a lone songbird indulged one last melody to end his day, Alena moved on. After living with the burden of a large tumor which had caused her to go blind, her battle was over. This tiny being taught us many lessons during the time we were fortunate to have her with us; for one, she taught us resilience and determination to live in spite of hardhip.

About a year after she came to live with us, we noticed a small bump forming on the right side of her head. The growth became larger as time passed, but Alena seemed unaffected by it – she ate well and loved to swim around the fresh plants and rocks we placed in her aquarium. Then, one day I saw her lying motionless inside a decorative pirate skull, and I assumed she had passed away. When I touched her to remove her from the skull, she squirmed, and my heart rejoiced. It was a short moment of happiness, however, for when I finally got her out from the skull she was stuck into, she was in terrible conditions – trying to break free, she had rubbed off most of her skin and tail, and one of her eyes was bleeding. We thought she was going to die that day, and we did all we could to keep her as comfortable as possible during her transition. To our surprise, Alena survived, and in no time at all her skin and tail were repaired. Unfortunately, the tumor was cut open while she tried to get out of the skull, and from that day on it started growing at greater speed.

Alena lost her sight from the one eye close to the tumor, but she seemed to be doing well otherwise. She lived several more years, apparently unaware of the disease that was slowly destroying her tiny body, but a few weeks ago she became quite lethargic and sat still over top of one of the plants in her aquarium for a few days. Feeling confident that she was losing her battle and was by now in distress, I researched humane ways to euthanize her, but before we could decide on anything, Alena surprised us again by perking back up and acting normal. We felt relieved, and we enjoyed watching her swim around and eat as if nothing had happened.

Sadly, this last period of wellbeing was short lived. A few days ago, Alena began showing signs of distress again, and she refused to eat. Last evening she lay on her side at the bottom of the aquarium, and her small body became still. We waited for a while to make sure she was gone, then we gently scooped her up in a bowl and took her to a pond near our house where we laid her to rest. For most of her life, Alena was trapped in a body that didn’t work well, and her adventures were limited by the enclosure she was living in; now she was free from pain, and she could swim forever in a large pond. We all stood around and said goodbye, as one of my sons gently lay her motionless body in the water. At first, everyone was a bit sad, but grief was quickly replaced with joy, as we embraced the concept that Alena is happier now, and she no longer hurts. We all sat around for a while and talked about her passing. The kids all understood that in cases such as this, death is a portal to better living, and if we love her we have to be relieved and happy for her. Goodbye Alena...swim on, little buddy, and thank you for the silent lessons we will cherish forever.

Thank You So Much!

2011-03-26T09:25:00.001-04:00

The past week has been a whirlwind, but rather than feeling turned upside down, I feel absolutely invigorated. I have to believe that Universe knows when it is time for a shuffle, and when you leave yourself open for changes, wonderful things manifest.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to give something a try – after spending almost three decades doing Tarot readings for friends and family, I thought of spreading my wings to the outside world and I offered a few free sample readings on a handful of websites. The response was almost overwhelming in a good way: People from all parts of the country – and even out of the country – wrote and allowed me the opportunity to read for them. I couldn’t have hoped for a more incredible and validating experience! Being able to connect with folks I have never met, and glimpsing their life stories, was an absolutely mind-blowing gift to me, and I learned a huge lesson from that: If one remains open to divine guidance, energy WILL flow. The feedback I received from the readings was heart-warming, and it certainly built my confidence toward this new venture. Many people I regularly interact with are familiar with my passion for crossroads, and the possibilities for self-awareness they offer. My readings are based on identifying each individual crossroads, and then exploring the pathways that originate from it, so that people can make better choices for themselves. I don’t see readings as a fortune-telling tool, but rather I see them as a way for someone to look deep within and discover blocks they might not be aware of. Right now, I feel that I have taken a new turn at this particular juncture, and I am still busy smelling the flowers on the side of the road. For the last few months, I have felt a strong need to reinvent myself in some way, and although writing still remains my greatest passion, I feel this is the pathway I was meant to take. Thank you so much for all the support!

March 6-13 -- Read An E-Book Week!

2011-03-08T09:09:00.001-05:00

I had no idea there was such a thing as a "Read an E-Book Week", but given that we have days to celebrate everything under the sun, this doesn't sound like a bad idea after all.

In fact, I think it is the perfect opportunity for new authors to get the proverbial foot in the door and introduce their books. Many people are scared to buy books from authors they haven't read before, and who can blame them? After all, $10 to $20 are a lot of money to spend on a book you know nothing about.

But what if that price is suddenly reduced to $2.99? While every penny counts, many people can afford to spend the equivalent of a high-end cup of coffee on a new book. Thanks to new technology such as Kindle and Nook, and even other applications that my grandmother would have affectionately labeled the devil's tools if she were alive, taking our chances with a new author has suddenly become easier.

If you are comfortable with that concept -- and if you are the proud owner of one of the gadget aforementioned -- I would like to invite you to take a look at my two titles. The first one is a nonfiction self-improvement, and it aims at guiding readers to declutter and reinvent their lives through the familiar concept of housekeeping (no worries...you don't have to clean anything physical), while the second one is a novel of paranormal suspense still holding a spiritual flavor. In the story, Melody Bennet travels far outside her comfort zone to the bayous of Southern Louisiana to honor her grandmother's dying wish. Little does she know that this journey will change her life forever...

So, here they are. The famous (or infamous) links are listed below. I hope you will take a chance at knowing more about me and about my work. Until we talk again, may you be blessed in all your endeavors, and may you always find what you're looking for. :-)

http://amzn.to/f3tZyD

http://amzn.to/eJl1Py

Go Read Sandra's Interview With Theresa Danley!

2011-03-01T13:04:00.002-05:00

Please visit Theresa Danley's blogsite to read her interview with me: http://bit.ly/h1Xfi5

Boundless Love -- A Short Story

2011-02-27T23:04:00.002-05:00

Katie Sandler rubbed her sore wrists and grimaced, as her eyes slowly opened and her senses scrambled to process the place around her. The room smelled slightly moldy, but it looked fairly clean and updated otherwise. It was sparsely furnished and somewhat dark, with high ceilings that conferred an air of antiquity and one of two windows that opened in front of a wall separating two courtyards.
She couldn’t explain the dull pain in both her wrists, and brushed it off as she jumped out of bed and walked briskly to the other window to take in her first impression of the city she was going to call home, at least for some time. The pain had started the moment her plane landed at Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans. Katie blamed it on the weight of her carry-on luggage, though it was totally feasible that it could be caused by arthritis, a disease that had crippled her family for several generations. Surely, the humidity in this place could not be good for anyone suffering from arthritis – the air was wet and hot enough to boil a fly in midair, and Katie was grateful for the air conditioning in her hotel room.
This window overlooked Royal Street, and Katie felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of finally being here. She had always felt an attachment to New Orleans, though she never knew why, since she had no friends or family connections here. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans shorts and a rust-colored shirt which brought out the gold in her hazel eyes, and flattered her olive complexion and dark curly hair. A touch of brick-colored lipstick and black mascara made her look well groomed without appearing too flashy; at barely five feet of stature and one hundred and five pounds, the last thing she wanted to do was to look like a miniature mask.
The moment she walked out of the hotel she was swallowed by a wave of humid heat, and she was thankful she hadn’t given in to her initial idea of straightening her hair. She still had several hours before going to her job interview, so she decided to pass the morning strolling around and flavoring the city. She was a bit nervous about the interview; though she was excited about this new chapter in her life, she was leaving everything behind -- her family, her old dead-end job, and every shred of security she had ever called her own – for a job taking care of an autistic child in a city at the other end of the country.
Life in New York hadn’t been exactly a fairy tale. The hustle and bustle of daily life had seemed thrilling at first when she moved to Manhattan with her new husband, but had quickly turned sour when he decided to walk out after only a year together, leaving her penniless and pregnant with their first child. She had struggled throughout the first three months of her pregnancy, unsure if she should have an abortion, but then her maternal instinct had taken over and she had chosen to have the baby, who was now ten years old and staying with Katie’s mother until Katie got settled into her new job. Her ex-husband didn’t come back for several years, until a few weeks ago, when he came back to New York with a new wife and a righteous attitude. Though she didn’t want to tell him about Jolene, Rick found out about their daughter on his own, and he was now threatening to sue for custody. Coming to New Orleans was a way to clear her thoughts and to get away from the air of New York which he had made putrid with his return.
The sound of a saxophone dusted her thoughts back to the present moment, and she noticed she had arrived in the center of a square right in front of a museum. It was still fairly early, but she could already see a few performers setting up their place of business for the day. Katie sat on one of the benches for a moment, and couldn’t help but being swept away by the charm of Jackson Square. The whole area was intriguing; the narrow streets laden with wrought-iron balconies adorned with hanging ferns spilled into the square, and the distinct aroma of strong coffee and beignets traveled on a carpet of warm, humid air.
It didn’t take long for Kate to feel exhausted in this type of weather – it was surely going to be a while before she got used to the torrid temperatures of the region.

***

“Come in, Ms. Sandler, please have a seat.”
Katie walked into the community resource office, feeling more as if she had walked into a cloud than into a room. The walls were white-washed and made even brighter by the unshielded sunlight pouring in from the large windows. A large fan whirred overhead, disturbing papers on the desk, and also the few hairs left on the head of her interviewer, a middle-aged man with thick glasses and an average face, his slightly overweight body stuffed into a grey suit that had seen better days.
Katie sat down and waited while the man – Mr. Armand was his name – perused her resume and job application.
“You understand this position will require that you remain with Etienne around the clock, Ms. Sandler. Etienne is autistic and unable to perform any mundane tasks at all. Normally, we would send assistance only for a short period each day, but the family is willing to pay your extended hours, as long as you can be a live-in aid.”
Katie nodded. “I understand, Mr. Armand, and I am perfectly ready for the task. As you can see from my job history, I have worked with autistic children before, and I find them fascinating to deal with.”
“Very well, then. Do you have any questions?”
“I do, actually. I have a ten-year-old daughter who is now staying with my mother in New York, but will be moving back in with me as soon as I get settled. Ms. Bouchard assured me it would be no problem for her to live with me at the house; I would like to confirm that.”
“Ms. Bouchard informed me of your situation, Ms. Sandler, and I checked with the family to make sure they are comfortable with the idea. They have no problem with it, and in fact they feel that it will be good for Etienne to be close to other children his own age. He is also ten years old.”
Katie felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders – the trip had been arranged hurriedly enough that she had not had the time to check back with Ms. Bouchard, the services coordinator. Mr. Armand stood up briskly and walked to a filing cabinet where he picked up a manila folder. “Here is some information about the child. The address is inside the envelope. You are expected tomorrow morning at 8am.”

***

The home was situated on Esplanade Avenue, on the side of the road adjacent to the Quarter and only a half mile walk from the market and the Mississippi river. Though it was close enough to her hotel to walk, she called a cab to help her transport her things. The home was Greek Revival style, and while the front door was only a few feet from the street, Katie detected a large, luscious courtyard in the back as she walked up the narrow pathway to the front porch. A young woman with dark, spaghetti-straight hair and small brown eyes opened the door and introduced herself as Etienne’s aunt.
“You must be Ms. Sandler. Please come in.”
The woman led Katie through a narrow hallway into a spacious and sunny room in the back of the house, where a small child was sitting at a desk furiously scribbling on a piece of white paper with an azure crayon. He didn’t look at Katie as she walked in, so she waited for Ms. Ramon to take the lead.
“This is Etienne, Ms. Sandler. He is mostly unaware of everything and anything. His temper is fairly mild, though he has spells that can be slightly unsettling.”
Katie nodded. Having worked with autistic children before, she was familiar with the characteristic behaviors.
“He loves to color, and we find that coloring calms him down when he is upset. He rarely draws anything that makes any sense, and only fills pages with different hues. In the kitchen you will find a schedule for his meals and a list of any medications he is taking regularly. Now, if you want to follow me, I will show you to your room.”
They went up a straight staircase to the second floor, and Katie was relieved to see that her room had two twin beds. She and her daughter could easily share this room.
“I will have the cab driver bring your things up for you. Is there anything you need, or do you have any questions?”
Katie wanted to ask where Etienne’s parents were, but she hoped to find that information in his case file inside the manila folder. “No, that’s all for now. I am going to go down and introduce myself to Etienne, if that’s okay.”

***

The first few days were a blur. Etienne was a sweet child, but his “spells” -- like his aunt had called them -- were certainly not occasional ones. Maybe because he was trying to adjust to his new caregiver, Etienne had filled a staggering amount of pages with colors of all shades. One of them appeared as shadows overlapping one another, almost depicting a mother and child hugging. Katie wondered what Etienne saw in his world.
Today was Katie’s day off, a Friday, and she decided to stroll to the nearby flea market. By the time she got there, the small market area was filled with vendors and tourists and she was a bit disappointed that most of the merchandise was made in China. In her heart of hearts, Katie had hoped to find something locally made, maybe even a genuine voodoo doll, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to be the right type of market.
She got a cup of coffee from a vendor and walked on, and suddenly she experienced something strange – the market looked different, and her wrists began to throb, but this time the pain wasn’t dull…sharp pangs of pain shot through her arms, her head began to spin, and she fell to her knees. When she looked up, she saw a man ready to strike at her. Her wrists were bound with rope behind her back, and the man slapped her as hard as he could on her left cheek. “Get up, it’s time to go!”
In the distance, she could hear a child cry…
“Are you okay, Miss?”
Katie opened her eyes, and saw a look of concern in the eyes of the man who had come to help her. Her coffee cup lay spilled at her feet, not too far from her purse. A nearby vendor was trying to convince a tourist to buy a Saints shirt.
Katie stood up quickly. “I am sorry…I’m not sure what happened. I felt dizzy and I can’t remember anything else.”
“If it can help,” the man said, “You were screaming at somebody to not take your baby.”
Katie thanked the man and walked away, embarrassed by the scene she had created, but still too confused to notice other vendors looking at her with puzzled looks painted on their faces.
She headed back to the house with a name ringing in the back of her mind…Henri.
Etienne was sitting as his desk as always, his little hands furiously saturating a page with a red crayon. Katie, still shaken by her ordeal, sat down with him and looked at the page. The silhouette of a brown boat seemed to loom on the red horizon.

***

“No! Don’t let him take my baby!!”
Katie looked on helplessly, as the judge banged his gavel and announced the end of the hearing. Her ex-husband had won, and she had lost her daughter. Several people moved around the courtroom like shadows, and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe – if they were going to take her child away, she wanted to die.
She sat on the bed, taking a loud drowning breath, and the room felt as if it was closing in around her. Her face was beaded with sweat, and she turned on the light while she still tried to control her breathing. She was relieved to see that she was in her room in New Orleans, not in a courtroom in New York; it was all just a dream, a nightmare to be exact. Katie got out of bed and went to check on Etienne. He was sleeping peacefully, thanks in part to the sleeping medication he had taken the night before. He looked very small in his big bed, and Katie felt a compulsive need to hug him, though she held back not to frighten him.
After checking on Etienne she walked downstairs to get a cup of tea, and carried the steaming cup to the small balcony overlooking the courtyard. The night was still. Even if occasional sounds could be heard in the distance, everything was eerily quiet.
She looked down at her wrists and saw a bruise on the right one – maybe she had fallen against something earlier that day at the market? She softly touched her cheek, and the scene she had witnessed in that strange moment came back. She immediately wanted to fight it and make it go away, but she didn’t. She saw herself being led away by the man who struck her, and forced to get on a boat. As the boat left the shore, she felt the pain of loss. Her child was left behind, taken away from her by someone who couldn’t possibly love him as much as she did. Her little Henri, one of the twins born from her relationship with her master was being claimed by Jacques’ barren wife as her own; he was, after all, very light in complexion, and he greatly favored his father. Though the Code Noir forbade children of slaves to be taken away from their mothers at a young age, the young mistress was unable to bear children, and Jacques needed an heir he could groom as his successor. Elise, his bride, could only accept the baby at her terms, so Marie was sent away, and sold to an American at the market along with her baby daughter, Henri’s sister.
Katie opened her eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, and her body shook with ancient sobs that had been trapped in her soul through incarnations. She knew nothing about Henri, and aside from the painful memory of another life in this very same world, she couldn’t remember anything more. Where did the man take her on that fateful day? And what kind of life did she lead after that? And, most important, why were these memories surfacing now?

***

Today Jolene was coming to New Orleans. Katie had missed her daughter terribly while they were separated, but they were finally going to be together again. She only hoped Jolene and Etienne would strike some semblance of a friendship.
She nervously twirled her hair with her fingers while she waited for the airport personnel to escort her daughter to her, and she broke into a huge smile when she saw Jolene’s face appear through the door of the gate.
They went back in a cab, since Katie didn’t have a car yet, and Katie was happy to see how relaxed Jolene was when she introduced her to Etienne. Her heart smiled.
The next few days, Jolene and Etienne seemed to really bond. Even if his condition prevented Etienne from speaking, Jolene seemed to understand him and know what he needed. Needless to say, Etienne’s family was very happy about the turn of events, and it warmed everyone’s heart to see that Jolene didn’t mind to sit with Etienne and color with him. Meanwhile, Katie had discovered the fate of Etienne’s parents – his father had died in a car wreck, and his mother, already struggling with mental illness prior to the loss of her husband, had completely lost touch with reality, and had been institutionalized after that. Etienne was alone, a prisoner in a special world with no doors.
Katie didn’t have any other memories or nightmares since the day she remembered losing her son Henri, and she was happy about that. She had no idea what it all meant, but she also knew that she was in a different life now, and she needed to remain anchored to this reality; for herself, and for her daughter Jolene.
Then, one morning, Jolene came to her.
“Mom, can I show you something?”
“Sure, Honey, what is it?”
“It’s a drawing Etienne and I made together. I drew it and Etienne colored the picture. What do you think?”
Katie took the paper from Jolene and her heart froze. The paper was folded in two, and each side depicted a different scene: The first scene showed a woman sitting on a boat, staring at the horizon and holding a small girl by the hand; the second one showed a little boy, alone in a pretty room; the little boy’s heart was bleeding, and a circle of dark colors had been traced around him. Henri and Corinne!
Katie felt faint. Her ears started buzzing loudly, and her heart sped out of control. Corinne…that was her daughter’s name…Henri and Corinne had come back as Etienne and Jolene, and they had found each other again across the boundaries of life and death. That was why the two had connected so easily – even Etienne’s autism was not strong enough to break a bond of love between twins.

***

“Katie, please call Rick. He continues to call here, asking to see his daughter. He is threatening legal action.” Katie’s mother sounded panic-stricken on the phone.
“I will, Mom. He really has some nerve banging on the door after so many years and expecting me to believe he turned into a doting father overnight.”
“I don’t think he did, Katie, but that wife of his…he says she can’t have children, and that Jolene is the only child he will ever father.”
Katie’s world stopped for a moment, as she tried to connect the dots. She hadn’t told her mother about her memories that had resurfaced, afraid that her mother would deem her insane, but it all seemed too coincidental. Jacques’ bride had been unable to bear children and she had claimed Marie’s as her own; because of that, Henri and Corinne had been separated, and Henri had lived his life locked into a world of grief from the loss of his mother and sister. Across the centuries, Rick’s wife was also unable to have children and wanted Katie’s daughter! It was all happening again, but this time to the opposite child, as a mirrored reflection of the first trauma.
Katie had to do something. “Give me his number, Mom. I am going to call him right away.”
She hung up the phone and tried to collect her thoughts. This was a different life, and she had many more rights now than she might have had as a slave a few centuries ago; this time she could fight for her children to be together.
Rick picked up at the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, Rick, it’s Katie…”
Rick was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat and answered.
“Hi Katie. I have to say that I am a little surprised by this call.”
“Not as surprised as I am, Rick. And more than being surprised with myself, I am surprised with you, and your ridiculous expectations to take my daughter from me after years you have not even called.”
Rick sighed heavily.
“I am sorry, Katie, but I didn’t even know there was a daughter until I came back and looked you up. I called you at home one day, and your mother answered. She didn’t know it was me, and she said you had gone to pick up your daughter at school. I played along and asked what grade she is in now, pretending I knew of her, and your mother said she is ten years old, Katie. We were together when she was conceived.”
“The fact that you contributed to her existence does not make you her father, Rick.”
“You are right, but I am only asking to see her. I thought of all this, and I am not going to fight for custody. In fact, I don’t even know that Leslie and I will be married for much longer; things are not good. There is little love between us.”
Katie didn’t reply. Her heart had been broken so badly when he left her that she vowed to never leave herself open again.
“I know you got a job transfer, Katie. Could I just come and see you and Jolene?”
“I don’t live alone, Rick. I take care of an autistic boy, and we live in the family home with him.”
“That’s okay, Katie. Just for a day…please don’t say no. I will stay in a hotel nearby, and you can have all the time you need to explain who I am to Jolene.”
“I…Rick…I don’t know…”
“Please, Katie…just one day. For old times’ sake.”

***

The sun was ready to set when Katie, Jolene and Rick met for dinner on Decatur Street. They ate and talked, and though Jolene was probably still a bit confused, she seemed to be at ease and smiled a lot at both of them. After dinner they walked toward Bourbon Street, but Jolene said she was tired and asked to be taken back to the house. Rick asked Katie to walk with him a little longer, so they headed back toward the Quarter for a drink.
When they reached the intersection of Dumaine and Royal, Katie’s heel got stuck on something and she almost fell. Rick caught her. “I won’t let you fall, Marie. Finally our family is together, and no one will ever separate us again.”
Katie looked up in confusion and Rick was no longer there. She was no longer there. Her caramel skin sparkled under the street lanterns while Jacques held her in a starved embrace, and the love in his eyes held the anguish he had suffered through the centuries. “Come, my dear, our carriage is waiting…”

The Grace Card -- A Movie Review

2011-02-27T08:15:00.003-05:00

If you are attracted by high-tech special effects and big Hollywood names, The Grace Card might not be the movie for you, but if you are interested in watching a film that’s profound enough to impact your own life, you definitely cannot afford to miss this wonderful film.
The Grace Card is being released this weekend, Feb 25-27 across the nation, and I seriously hope many will find it in their hearts to go watch it. Why, you probably wonder? The reason is simple: Our society is deeply divided and wounded, and The Grace Card offers a different approach to stop the bleeding.
Mac McDonald loses his young son in a tragic accident, and his life spirals down from that moment on. As years pass, his relationship with his family becomes strained, and his bottled-up angry feelings wash into his attitude at work, slowing down his progression in his career as a law enforcement officer.
As a final straw, Mac is forced by his superior to pair up with Sam, an African-American pastor who took the job as a police officer to pay the bills, though his true dream is to create a self-sustaining, full-time ministry.
There is little love lost between the two men, and their forced partnership triggers feelings neither of them are happy to face. They accept their shared task out of necessity, but even Sam struggles to understand why their paths intersected.
When tragedy strikes, the design becomes suddenly clear, and both men discover that nothing happens by mistake. In a breathtaking turn of events, they both realize that Divine Grace was at work the whole time to bring healing not just in their individual lives but, as a reflection, to the collective of society.
The Grace Card is a fantastic document on forgiveness and a powerful reminder that each of us is but a tile in the tapestry of life. A message most of us desperately need to acknowledge.

"The Narnia Code" -- A Movie Review

2011-01-10T07:01:00.004-05:00

C. S. Lewis is best known among literary enthusiasts as the author of the famed Chronicles of Narnia, a series of seven books that have captured the interest, and fueled the imagination, of young and old alike. But what do we know of the life of this charming writer?

Clive Staples Lewis was born in the late 1800’s in Belfast, Ireland. Since early childhood he was fascinated with the cosmos, and because of a series of traumatic events in his younger years, he increasingly retreated into his own imaginary world.

Because of his conversion from atheism to Christianity, it has previously been believed that some of his works, to include The Space Trilogy and The Chronicles of Narnia, were overtly dealing with concepts such as redemption, sin and mankind’s fall from grace; Michael Ward, however, might have discovered otherwise.

Michael Ward, the author of the recently released book Planet Narnia, stumbled into a most intriguing doorway to the hidden meaning behind the beloved Chronicles of Narnia quite by accident, as he read one of C. S. Lewis’s works one night. The realization that he might have found something significant marked the beginning of a journey of discovery that culminated with a revelation which might shake the foundations of the ever popular novels. Extensive research supported the possibility that Michael Ward indeed cracked a code to enter into C. S. Lewis’s unbelievable mind, and his work has brought to surface a much deeper meaning no one before ever detected.

Michael Ward’s journey into the mind of C.S. Lewis is recorded in the documentary The Narnia Code, a documentary which tracks the discovery from its onset until the publication of the book. Fans of C. S. Lewis will surely be thrilled to hear that after so many years of timeless delight, the Chronicles of Narnia are going to surprise readers once again with a whole new twist.

The Narnia Code is a key to a new world – much larger and greater than Narnia itself.

http://www.narniacode.com/

Disclaimer: The thoughts and opinions in this review are solely mine, and do not reflect those of the people involved in the making of the film. I am not receiving any kind of compensation for writing this review.

The Way Home -- A Movie Review

2010-10-28T06:32:00.003-04:00

The Way Home, a family movie starring Dean Cain (“Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman”), tells the story of Randy Simpkin, a man who finds himself struggling to juggle the demands of his job and those of his family. As the family prepares for a long-awaited beach trip, Randy steps inside the house for a moment to check work messages on his computer, and while he is inside, his two-year-old son – whom his wife had asked him to watch to give her a chance to close up the house – disappears.

Randy and Christal are suddenly thrust into a parent’s worst nightmare, and they desperately look for Joe with no success. The sheriff is called, and the search begins. Thanks to Randy’s mother, whose ties with other church members spread far and wide across the county, the Simpkin home is soon filled with onlookers and well-wishing folks hoping to help finding the missing boy. After receiving clearance from the sheriff, everyone gets to work, and every inch of the fields surrounding the home is combed. It’s not long until a TV reporter arrives at the home along with a camera man and a helicopter. In front of her unfolds a breathtaking scene – hundreds of people are searching, praying, consoling and doing all they can to support the panicked family.

Meanwhile, while the search for Joe continues, Randy embarks on a different kind of search – he suddenly remembers moments he could have spent with his family which he chose instead to pour into his job. His mind wanders to imagine the unthinkable, and realizing that he might never see his son alive again, Randy falls to the ground, quickly sinking into an abyss of guilt and despair.

The day slowly drags toward the evening hours, and hopes of finding Joe alive and unharmed drip away like the colors of the setting sun – the boy has not been found so far, and with so many ponds, swamps and snakes in the area, his chances of making it through the night drop by the minute. Will the search party bring Joe Home?

The Way Home is a heartwarming, inspirational film suitable for the whole family to enjoy. In a society like ours, ultimately dedicated to weighing priorities in the wrong order, it is a painful reminder of what truly matters and what, in the end, does not. The film does a wonderful job expressing an important concept: The power of community. We have become so self-isolated and tuned into a world of progress and illusion that we have forgotten how important it is to rely on one another. This community did not. Though they all lived individual lives, the moment one of their own stumbled into trouble, everyone was ready to help in whichever way was needed.

The Way Home is based on a true story, a chilling fact that reflects our own need to look deep inside our hearts and be aware that tragedy can always be awaiting around the bend; if it does, being alone and regretful is not the answer.

website: http://www.thewayhome-movie.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Way-Home-a-MOVIE-Starring-Dean-Cain/88393118828?ref=ts

Disclaimer: I am not being paid to write this review. The thoughts expressed in the review are my own and they are not, in any way, influenced by anyone involved in the making of the film.

Clear Vision

2010-10-21T06:30:00.004-04:00

I have poor night vision. Because of this reason, I don’t particularly like to drive at night, unless an emergency arises. I have even gone as far as exploring my options of owning different gadgets that can make night driving easier, but once I took a look at the price tags, I quickly changed my mind. After all, I hardly ever need to drive at night.

Daytime driving is another business altogether. With three kids that seem to need to travel the world far and wide every day, and my own errands to run, I spend more time behind the wheel than I would like. But, let me not derail from the thought that led me here to start with.

The other day I was driving to go pick up my daughter from school, and since I left in a rush, I forgot my sunglasses. Not a big deal, I thought as I drove down the road. Well, I drove the two miles that separated me from the school and turned into the nearby neighborhood. I was suddenly blinded by sunshine and for a moment I could see absolutely nothing. So I slowed down, and as I did, I barely perceived a white car parked on the side of the road to my right. It’s a miracle I even saw it because the color of the car was completely washed out by the intensity of the light.

After I passed the car I thought of how interesting it is that there are times during the day when one can see even worse than at night. That fleeting thought, of course, led to more activity, and I was soon busy analyzing how even in life walking the middle lane is usually the best way to see things clearly. I suppose we can look at it in many ways – someone totally absorbed into the dark happenings of existence is usually too overwhelmed to see anything on his path but more and more darkness. When, on the other hand, one is too elevated and detached into the light, it is hard for him to be able to empathize with the darkness others are struggling through, and can see even less. Quite similarly, if one is always rejected and failing, he is probably blinded by the darkness of his perception of the self, but if one is too successful, even in this case, blindness is not too far behind.

Living an average life filled with a balance of woes and wows allows us to steer away from complete darkness, while still retaining a memory of what it is like to struggle and be fearful. Accepting a life which contains a bit of both allows us to move through obstacles more easily, and teaches us that life isn’t always dark or bathed in light. All days will perish at sunset and each night succumbs to the morning sun. Nothing lasts forever, and even a difficult situation will eventually turn when you least expect it, just as a wonderful outcome will probably not stay wonderful forever.

What counts is to live in the moment, and not forget that each moment that passes is a unique fraction of time that will never occur again.

Note to anyone that’s interested: This coming Saturday, Oct 23 I will be signing books at Northgate Books in Durham between the hours of 3 and 6pm. Also, the next Saturday, Oct 30, I will be at the Fall Festival in Fuquay Varina the whole day. I hope to see you there!

http://www.usedbooksdurham.com/

http://events.mync.com/fuquayvarina-nc/events/show/88900969-a-day-in

"Rust" -- A Movie Review

2010-10-19T06:19:00.002-04:00

Rust, an inspirational film starring Golden Globe nominee Corbin Bernsen, was a nice surprise. A little fed up with many of the plot-poor movies of late, I found myself browsing the shelves at Blockbuster not even hoping to find anything worth watching, when I stumbled into this title.

Rust tells the story of James Moore, a former pastor going through a midlife crisis of faith. Unable to come to terms with his doubts, he returns to his hometown seeking answers he hopes to find at the old church where he initially felt his calling as a child.

Upon his return, James finds the place quite changed, and he learns of a local family who perished in a fire apparently set by Travis, his childhood friend and local loon. James goes to visit Travis in jail, and while he is a little surprised about his friend’s implication, he can’t but accept the man’s own rendition of what happened the fatal night of the fire.

A few days later, a disturbed local youth takes his life, and the town mourns the loss while collectively shaking its head at what could have motivated the young man to go through with such an unthinkable act.

James continues to visit Travis in jail, and time after time, he becomes more and more convinced of the man’s innocence, even if Travis himself accepts his fate as it is; his memorable words at some point: “My mother is fine; I am fine. It’s all according to God’s plan –He creates the plan, we only have to play our part.”

Mindless of Travis’s acceptance of whatever plan may be at play, James begins to dig deeper to find out what truly happened. Friendship and an unquenchable thirst for justice set him on a path of discovery sometimes at odds with the will of the rest of the town, only too glad to have someone to blame for the deaths.

The plot continues to evolve in a crescendo of events interesting enough to stand out, yet average enough to be credible.

The film makes many excellent points. One of them is James’s growing awareness of each person being connected to everyone else. Rust is one of those rare movies with a story so compelling that it stands out on its own, without need of explosions or foul language to capture one’s attention. It is heartwarming and profound; definitely a movie that can be enjoyed by the whole family, and one filled with powerful lessons that will likely stick with the viewer for a long time to come.

Along Came A Spider...

2010-10-14T06:25:00.002-04:00

Along came a spider…and it built a huge web right in front of my door. And when I say huge, I don’t mean it the way a fisherman would when describing his catch. When I say huge, I mean a king-size spread of sticky goodness which could trap a grown man and make him scream for his mommy.

Interestingly enough, I didn’t even notice the web at first, when I went out to place a new umbrella over my patio table. It was my son – a big boy of almost sixteen who secretly dreams of being a Ninja and claims to be afraid of nothing – that jumped a foot off the floor when he went to close the door and saw the spider proudly guarding its work of art an inch away from his face.

At first instinct I thought of removing the uninvited guest and ask him to find a room elsewhere, possibly really far away; but then, given that Morgan asked to have a Halloween birthday party, I decided to leave it alone and treat it as a nearly perfect Halloween decoration. After all, who am I to spit on a free, suggestive bit of decoration?

Jokes aside, my decision to keep the spider and even go as far as finding it a name (don’t laugh, the name is Charlie – suggested by my son in honor of Charlotte from Charlotte’s web), is actually a personal confirmation. Several years ago I was terrified of spiders, and while over time I came to accept that for some strange, arcane reason, they too had to have a purpose in the greater scheme of all things, I never forgave whoever is in charge of deciding the shape and look of living things for making spiders look so creepy and hideous. At some point of my life I have believed that if I was chased by a murdering maniac with a knife, and my only escape path was through a thick patch of woods in late summer, then I would have gladly stopped and asked to be stabbed. That’s how terribly afraid of spiders I was! Well, things have changed. I still think spiders are hideous, but while I wouldn’t pet them, I can now peacefully cohabitate with them.

So, our pet/owner relationship began (monster/crazy woman sounds closer to reality, but cut me a little slack here, will you?), and while I waited for Morgan to get home from school I brew a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table with the newspaper. Once in a while I raised my eyes to look at Charlie, completely immobile in the center of his web, and I couldn’t help but marveling at the perfection and beauty of what he had created. And not only that…I quickly realized that Charlie surely had one of me: Patience. The poor soul clung in the middle of that web for hours, before an unsuspecting insect finally gave itself up as a mid-afternoon snack.

The spider waited. And then it waited some more. All along, it had no certainty that anything would fly near and would be attracted to the flowery illusion of its web, but in the end, its effort and patience were rewarded. A juicy insect was drawn to the web like a sailor charmed by the melodious voice of a siren, and before it even knew what happened, its time had come. The spider waited some more, to give the insect the chance to tire out, before wrapping it into a silky grave.

By the time I looked away from the mesmerizing scene, it was too late to read any articles – Morgan’s bus was due to arrive in just a few minutes. So, I left to go welcome my daughter home, all the while thinking about the spider and its unbelievable patience. Good things come to those who wait, someone claimed. I’m sure Charlie would agree.

Riding the Wave

2010-10-12T06:35:00.002-04:00

The past few weeks have been a little rough for our family. Aside from being pulled in a million directions by daily demands, compounded by the needs of three growing children that seem to need to be in different places at the same time, we have had to deal with some health related issues.

My mother has been struggling for a while with leg pain, and while it is wise to get different opinions, we have found that sometimes it is only confusing, as each specialist seems to have a different outlook on things, and everything is dragged along for the sake of making the right decision.

If the poor woman didn’t have enough on her plate – and this may not seem like a big deal compared to other horrible things happening in the world – the death of her twenty-year-old cat, Angel, was the proverbial feather that pushed her off the precipice. The whole family was upset, and, in all truth, they gave me a scare of a lifetime, when I called and got my sister on the phone; she started crying the moment she heard my voice and couldn’t tell me what was happening. With a 76-year-old father suffering from heart disease, for a few seconds I expected the worst, and I was the one who almost had a heart attack.

Done with the woes of one family, let’s now pass on to the next installment. A couple of months ago, my father-in-law fell off a ladder while blowing leaves out of his gutters and broke a few ribs. While he was still recovering from that, he went to play golf a few weeks ago, only to end up at the hospital needing a pacemaker. Pacemaker inserted, he finally went home to lick his wounds, and we all thought the dust would settle from that moment on, but fate had a few other surprises in store…my kitten was bitten by a poisonous snake, and he survived but needed extra care for a week; and, as a sour cherry on top of a toppling cake, my mother-in-law began to feel ill last week. In the beginning she only had a few flu-like symptoms, but they quickly evolved into something more serious; serious enough, in fact, that she had to be placed into ICU for a few days. She is fine now, and recovering nicely, but for a few days we didn’t know what to expect.

Last night I sat in my living room, after everyone had gone to bed, and thought about the weeks gone by. We had a few scares, a heartbreak or two, but in the end everyone is still fine, alive, loved and, most important, we are all still here together to tell the story. And, if anything, all these upsets only drew us closer – it is easy for extended families to lose track of what’s happening with one another, and days go by without even a phone call. During the last couple of weeks, everyone stayed in touch, and everyone felt the need to let the others know how much they were loved. It’s a great feeling – an amazing one, in fact – and it is a sad fact that we rarely think about these things until we find ourselves on top of a wave, being carried to destinations unknown.

I am beginning to see land, and in fact I am preparing for a couple of busy weeks filled with events and book signings. Will fate work with me? There is no telling, for life will continue to happen with its up and downs, to keep us on our toes. All we can do is to appreciate each moment while the winds are blowing friendly.

The Last Sunday Morning in New Orleans

2010-10-07T06:32:00.002-04:00

The morning of September 12 I woke up earlier than I had planned. Since our flight out of New Orleans wasn’t supposed to leave until one in the afternoon, I had envisioned sleeping in a little, and then taking my sweet time trying to find some extra space in the suitcase to fit all the little knick-knacks I bought the previous four days.

It wasn’t meant to be. I woke up bright and early at 6am, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Since my sister was still peacefully cuddled up in the arms of Morpheus, and I didn’t want to wake her up by turning on the TV, I decided to call it a night; I got dressed and went out.

The city was in a moment of transition. While some die-hard partiers were still lingering at the doors of bars, they were gradually being outnumbered by the growing crowd of daytime folks, busy getting their beloved city ready for another day.

I walked for miles. With coffee cup in hand, I walked down Esplanade Avenue, passed the flea market where a few vendors had already started setting out their goods, and spilled onto the boardwalk coasting the Mississippi river. I passed by a small group of homeless men just waking up to a new day, and smiled when I saw one of them shaving in front of a fountain, while he held a small mirror in front of his face. I walked a bit longer and then sat on a bench facing the river. As I got ready to take a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup, I heard a moan. Thinking I had maybe just imagined it, I took another sip of coffee, only to hear moaning again a few seconds later. This time I turned around. Behind the bench, maybe ten feet away, was a small elderly man, crunched near a bush. His face was pale and his eyes were shut tight, and he looked like he could be anywhere between 50 and 100 years old – his skin was leathery, and his face was contorted in agony. I called out to him and asked if he was alright, but he didn’t even respond. I called him again, but even this time I got no reply. So, I walked up to him and kneeled beside him. Only then did he show any kind of awareness. I asked him if he was ill, and he shook his head. I waited a moment, and asked him again. He only looked up at me and said: “I am not sick, I am hungry.”

His words sealed on my heart as if someone had pressed them there with a hot iron. “You’re hungry?” I asked again, almost unable to accept that in a world where luxury is often ostentatious, a man can still go hungry. “When did you eat last?”

He replied that he had only eaten a bit of a sandwich he had found discarded the morning before. My heart sank even lower – with temperatures in the 90s, and enough humidity to boil a fly in mid-air, it was possible that the sandwich he had eaten was spoiled. I asked him if he wanted me to call an ambulance, and he shook his head, so I told him to wait a moment, and I rushed to a restaurant nearby to fetch a cup of hot tea and a couple of Danish pastries. I figured that he could drink the tea now and nibble on one of the pastries until his stomach was ready to accept food again. If he was right, and he was only hungry, the hot tea and a few bites were going to work some magic. The young girl attending the counter at the coffee shop seemed a bit surprised when I asked for hot tea instead than coffee, but she produced a steaming cup of it nonetheless. I ran back to the old man and sat with him for a while as he took eager sips of the hot beverage. And, as he had said, his cramps slowly relaxed and he felt better. I sat with him a bit longer, while he told me his story – he lost everything he owned when Katrina hit, and it wasn’t long until he also lost his job in constructions. He was never able to find his daughter and grandson, and it wasn’t long before a profound depression left him mentally crippled and unwilling to pull himself together. I looked into his eyes, and saw no hope there. I asked him why he didn’t try to get some sort of help, but all he could say was that it didn’t matter. After a while, I had to leave to go back to the hotel, but I first stopped by a local grocery store and got him a few non-perishable items he could keep in his backpack. I hugged him and said goodbye, but I thought of him for days.

His story led me to think of how easily we judge things from the outside. This man is, in the eyes of the world, a beggar, a reject the rest of society probably wishes could disappear, but in reality he is simply a man in pain. When he lost everything, he lost himself, and he could no longer find the will to fight. Sad as it is, a large majority of homeless individuals are mentally ill, and while it is possible for some to find a sense of direction if they truly are seeking one, for some the cloud of despair makes the path to recovery too dark and treacherous to walk. So they give up, and survive humbly at the outskirts of a world often too busy to notice their neighbors’ painful alienation.

Today, I feel fortunate that I awoke so early on that last Sunday morning in New Orleans, and as I write this I hope that at least for a moment, my homeless friend realized he is worthy to be loved.

Hi Again!

2010-10-05T06:25:00.001-04:00

After a break of a couple of months, I am ready to jump back into blogging. The past summer has been a rollercoaster – weddings, family visits, illness, children home from school, out of town trips, and book promotions, have all kept me busier than I ever imagined.

Now the dust has finally settled. The kids are back in school, family has come and gone, everyone’s well and…when I thought I was getting ready to be rolling my thumbs, I found a job. It’s a home job, mind you, and a writing one at that – the thing I love most – but it will nonetheless keep me busy.

So, this whole story to say that I will be back to regular blogging, but rather than posting everyday, I will probably do so half the time, perhaps every other day. I do miss talking to friends everyday, and I am glad I get to do a bit of that on Our Collective Wellness while I inhale a cup of coffee in the mornings; a little time is better than no time, right?

Blog for Hope will still be posted every Saturday morning, and while my October is already almost completely booked up, we really need to put our heads together and see if we can figure out ways to put aside some funds for the winter. If you would like to volunteer as a fund raiser organizer, I will love you for it. No idea is a bad idea, so feel free to shoot suggestions.

I think this is pretty much all I wanted to share for now. I look forward to posting again in the next couple of days, and to discuss topics with many people I have come to love talking to. So, see you the day after tomorrow. Until then, take care and don’t forget to enjoy life.

Cajun Fest and Benefit Book Signing, Saturday September 18, 12pm-3pm

2010-09-16T06:48:00.002-04:00

I would like to invite you to a fun and spicy event. This weekend, on Saturday September 18, 12pm-3pm, Abagayle's Books and Collectibles in Henderson NC will be hosting a book signing and Cajun Fest. http://www.abagaylesbooks.com/

Come and enjoy a taste of Louisiana by sampling traditional dishes, and join me for a reading. $1 from each copy of The Book of Obeah and Housekeeping for the Soul sold during this event will go benefit the Louisiana SPCA in honor of all pets lost during Hurricane Katrina. Please do note that during the month of September ALL proceeds from digital sales such as downloads to your Nook and Kindle will also go to this worthy cause.

I hope to see you there!

Blog for Hope: Will You Help?

2010-09-04T08:30:00.003-04:00

First of all, my apologies for being away for so long -- my summer has been a very busy one, and the month of September looks even crazier.

I would like to thank you all for your kind support toward Golo's Gingerleigh's effort to raise money for Neti Pots for the soldiers. Please don't forget that next weekend she will be hosting a car wash to raise even more money. The event will take place at Eastgate Shell, 4043 Wake Forest Rd in north Raleigh. I will, unfortunately, be out of town and unable to participate, but I will surely be there in spirit.

Also, I would like to mention two other efforts you might be interested in.

The first one involves a lady who was referred to me by a minister friend. She is 60 years old and for the last ten months she has been living out of her car. She is a very upbeat lady, and an ex professional skater and drummer who ran into a lot of health problems the past year, and lost everything. Her needs: she is looking to rent a room somewhere, for $300 or $400 a month. She can help with housework, childcare, and elderly care, as long as there is no heavy lifting involved. Her car also stopped working because her catalytic converter was crumbling and her muffler was completely unwelded. We sent her to a nearby muffler shop where they also replaced her catalytic converter at a very good price. The total bill was $250 which I already have about $180 for. Anyone willing to help with the rest? If so, please e-mail me: lunanera(at)netzero.net.

Last but not least: Starting on August 27 and lasting through September 30, ALL proceeds from my digital book sales (Kindle, Nook and any application supported by Smashword) are being donated to the Louisiana SPCA in memory of all animals lost during Hurricane Katrina. If you would like to support our four-legged friends, this is a good chance to do so. For more information, please visit http://www.hookedonthebook.com

I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday weekend!

Eye on New Orleans: Katrina's Other Orphans

2010-08-27T12:29:00.007-04:00

As we continue our Hooked on the Book campaign, we would like to take the time to honor yet another category of Louisiana residents -- our four-legged friends. During Hurricane Katrina many animals were lost and separated from their families. Thanks to the effort of the Louisiana SPCA, many were able to be reunited with their original families, while others were placed in new loving homes.

As we approach the fifth anniversary of Katrina, I am proud to announce that $1 from the sale of each hard copy of Housekeeping for the Soul and The Book of Obeah, and ALL proceeds from e-book sales, will be donated to the Louisiana SPCA through Hooked on the Book, a Books for Good campaign.

Especially during active hurricane season, donations are fundamental to upkeeping the service agencies like SPCA are able to provide, so I hope you will join me in this effort and you will help me spread the word by forwarding this information to your family and friends. For more information, please visit http://hookedonthebook.com/

And please, always remember our motto: 'If everyone gives a thread, a poor man will have a shirt.' In this case, we might not be able to weave a shirt for our animal friends, but we'll ensure that they will have a home away from home if they ever need one again.

Many blessings,

Sandra

See You Soon...

2010-08-09T05:53:00.001-04:00

As this hot, long summer is racing toward the finish line, I need some time to reorganize things; because of that, unfortunately for me, my writing time is going to be cut short.

Several exciting things are at the door: My five-year-old daughter is getting ready to start her first, long-awaited year in elementary school, one of my sons is practicing his driving skills, I’m anxiously waiting for my sister to come from Italy for a three-week-long visit, and, finally, I am gearing up to have a memorable time in ever-magical New Orleans at the beginning of September, when I will travel to Louisiana for a mini promotional book tour. A lot of excitement is certainly in the works, but also a busy time ahead which will require undivided attention and expandable energy.

So, it’s time to fuel up. I look forward to spending the next couple of weeks reading materials someone else has written, shopping with the kids and working on doing a little remodeling at my house in occasion of my lovely sister’s visit. The week after I return from New Orleans, September 18, I will be signing books at Abagayle’s Books and Collectibles in Henderson between 12pm and 3pm – if you are in the area, I hope you will stop by and say hi; I would love to see you.

I will not be posting any new blog entries until October 1, but I will stop by in the mornings to say hello. Please, feel free to drop me a line via e-mail at any time.

See you soon…

Sandra

Seeds in the Wind -- Fate vs. Chance

2010-08-05T05:30:00.001-04:00

Some palm readers believe that one’s future should be read from the lines of the right hand, as opposed to those in the left which are, they say, the lines of birth – the original blueprint of our destiny that was drawn prior to our arrival on earth. According to that theory, we are provided with two maps: one which reflects the plan we made before being born, and one – the right hand - which reflects the choices we will make during our journey. We meet different people, enter new doors and close others; are the events we live from day to day coincidental? Or are they points already charted on the map of our existence?

In my opinion, there is no such thing as coincidence; I believe we are born with a precise path to follow, which allows for slight revisions as we walk through life. We are taught that humans have a gift of free will, but do we really?

If one considers the concept of time - and truly ponders on it – will realize that there is no such thing; time is merely a manmade illusion born out of sheer need to organize our existence through our limited five senses. Time is needed by our ego - which is born from our earthly body - but serves no purpose to our spirit, which is connected in nature to universal energy and is, therefore, timeless, ageless, birthless and deathless. Past, present and future are one, and are only separated by the need the human mind has to be in charge and control unfolding events. According to this theory – if time is simply an illusion – things which are to unfold tomorrow already happened yesterday; we just have not reached them today. Many of the stars which shine brightly in our skies today have likely been dead for hundreds of thousands of years; their distance is just so great, that their light took that long to reach us and become visible to us.

Universal perfection does not allow for mistakes; we are born to the family which will create the perfect environment for the growth of our spirit, and meet countless people and situations which will support the lessons we need to learn. That said, the journey our soul chooses to embark on can sometimes be a bumpy ride, and it will take the strength of our spirit to understand the necessity of each experience and roll with the punches. We may be born to abusive parents, meet people who only seem to create obstacles, run into predicaments which will test the strength of our resolve; yet, when all is said and done, each of those situations will have taught us something, and our test truly is one of understanding the greater, unexplained importance of each occurrence.

We are the seed the wind of destiny is blowing around. We may land on fertile ground right away, or we may be deposited on barren environs for a while, waiting out our turn to be swept again toward greener grounds; or maybe we will die there, as our charted mission is that of drying in the sun and support the hungry bird who’s looking for nourishment to perpetuate its own soul agenda. Whether our goal is that of taking center stage or merely operating the curtain ropes, our stay on earth – and that of other living beings - are all equally important, and have great value in the greater scheme of things. We are all but a drop in the vast waters of the ocean, but all together we create something powerful and beautiful, which will carry on the timeless tune of creation.

On the Path to Success (repost)

2010-08-04T04:57:00.003-04:00

"Visualize this thing you want. See it, feel it, believe in it. Make your mental blueprint and begin." Robert Collier

Focus oriented in the right direction is one of the fundamental tools necessary to overcome. If you think it sounds too easy and simple to be true, think again. Many people loudly broadcast their wishes, but their words rarely match their thoughts, beliefs and expectations. While one minute is spent wishing for something, the other 23 hours and 59 minutes of their day are intensely spent visualizing the impossibility of the wish.

Given the right impetus and desire, every wish can become reality. The only blocks are the lack of emotional charge necessary to propel our wishes forward, the mental image we implant into our subconscious, and whether we feel we deserve the blessing. The fuel is provided by emotions; without emotions behind them, thoughts are quickly discarded as unimportant. The Universal mind only works on images we create in our conscious minds, which get deposited into our subconscious minds. Once an image is perceived by our Higher Self, if fueled properly, it will manifest in our realities. So, if for one minute we claim to wish for something, but then we repeatedly saturate our subconscious with images of poverty, disease, fear and lack of love, our Higher-Self assimilates that poverty, disease, fear and lack of love are just what we want. Like actions, images speak louder than words. The last block is usually caused by misplaced guilt; if we feel guilty of something – even if we didn’t initiate the action – we believe we shouldn’t be rewarded.

When we wish for something but then expect to see its opposite manifest, our focus is centered on what we don’t want. As we think of what we don’t want, we form mental images of the misery that will come, and we bring those images to life by feeding them with our emotions. In order to be successful in attaining our wishes, we need to re-program our conscious minds, since that’s where the process starts. Our free will allows us to choose what to focus on, and once we make a choice, we need to concentrate every emotion we feel toward our goal, rather than toward the obstacles on our path.

Very often, our realities are impacted by old images buried deep into our subconscious. By allowing painful memories to rise up at a time when we can give them our full attention, we take away their power of being in charge of us. When we choose to face them, we can feel them, hear them, see them and even feed them emotions for a brief period of time, and then make a conscious effort to release them before shifting our focus toward the goals we wish to conquer. One thing is certain – those old wounds will not go away until we consciously decide to meet them face to face, honor them for their purpose in our lives and ask them to rest in peace. Once we are aware of their existence, it is imperative that we don’t linger on their effects. We are in control of how long we will allow ourselves to think about them.

Changing our realities is possible, as long as our thoughts go hand in hand with our words. And if, by force of habit, we go down the wrong thinking path at any given time, we always have the option to stop, turn around and walk in a different direction.

A New Cell Phone

2010-08-03T07:23:00.003-04:00

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.” ~ C.S. Lewis

A few days ago I dropped my cell phone as I searched for keys on my way to my car. Though it has fallen several times and I’ve always been able to put it back together with no problem – and never mind the fact this time it actually fell on a soft carpet of grass – it was dead on collision.

I went home and called the phone company to file an insurance claim. I asked the lady on the phone if I would have any trouble retrieving my contact numbers, and she assured me that since I was going to use the same SIM card, all the information stored in it would be transferred to the new phone. The new phone arrived two days later. I diligently followed all instructions and put the old card into the phone, but when I went to look for contacts to import, the SIM card was empty! So I called the phone company again, and we tried a few more tricks, but nothing worked. The joke I had uttered for years, when I said that if I lost my phone I wouldn’t call anyone anymore, didn’t seem all that funny now; while I had other means of contacting some of the people whose phone numbers were lost, I had no idea how to get in touch with some of the others.

While I pouted about that, I thought about some of the contacts I had lost – I hadn’t talked to some of those people for years, either because we had, willingly or unwillingly, parted ways, or because our lives had simply taken different directions. I still could get in touch with those I have reasons to have in my world, either via e-mail or through common friends, so what had I lost? I was suddenly hit with the realization that old, worn-out connections had moved out of the way to make room for new ones: I now have a nice, empty address book I can fill with new friends entering my life.

While holding on to things and relationships that no longer serve us is a downfall of human nature, it is best, every so often, to let the ghosts of the past finally rest in peace. I was talking to a friend, just yesterday, and we were discussing how some of his writings have gone lost; some of the material was quite heart-felt and written during a particularly painful time in his life, but even if parts of it were pleasant and touching, the strained energy of those challenging moments was also trapped between the lines; by losing the documents, he didn’t lose his ability to write anew, but only the painful reminder that the past is called past for a reason. Resistance to change is awfully common, but it surely doesn’t help us grow. In fact, our conservative, self-preserving nature is probably the most hindering factor in our transition from one chapter of life to the next. Stagnation comes masked as familiarity, and who’s ready and willing to throw out those old slippers even if they no longer feel and look right?

Once all is said and done, we can’t lose something or someone we are meant to have in our world; all we are losing is superficial attachments to debris. Who would have known that I had to break my phone to assimilate something so simple?

Cardinal Grand Cross of 2010

2010-08-02T00:13:00.002-04:00

While many of us are busy anchoring down on earth during what appears to be a very stressful summer on so many levels – the economy is still shaky, natural disasters seem to pop up like mushrooms on a wet field, relationships are strained and people feel ‘stuck’ – astrologers around the globe are keeping their eyes firmly on the sky, as a very unusual configuration of planets is lining up in the heavens.

Personally, I am at a loss when it comes to technical information associated to planetary patterns, so I would not be of much help trying to explain what’s happening, but upon close observation of what professional astrologers have described, in relation to what’s been happening on earth, I have become quite fascinated by the Cardinal Grand Cross of 2010.

According to experts in the field, we are facing, this week, a culmination of sorts, and since several planets will be opposing each other as they align to form the cross, explosive events are likely to be triggered imminently. The forecast is not good – financial crashes, tempers clashing, social unrest and conflicts – but it is general consent that things will begin to improve in the next three weeks, after some of the new energy has had a chance to settle and be assimilated.

So, what does this mean on a personal level? This new energy has prompted many to end old relationships and arrangements that no longer work; we are nudged to let go of the old to make room for the new, to clean house and accept new patterns in place of old, ill-fitting ones. Old jobs are lost, governments are questioned, awareness of personal responsibility is raised, relationships with others are regrouped, and all around us humanity is rebelling to an old system of authority that no longer fits our current needs.

As is with everything, things are bound to appear worse before they get better, and the upcoming week truly appears to embody the doom and gloom associated with change and transition. With such new, explosive energy pouring in, many are bound to feel restless and emotional this week, and even prone to arguments which have the power to escalate rapidly. So, if you feel moody or fearful, or you suddenly feel more confrontational than usual, you are not going crazy, but only getting on with the scheduled program of a global shift of consciousness. The key phrase of this week – and of the next two, though events will not manifest as brutally after this week – is to ride the wave and float with it, rather than swimming against it. Be happy about the small things, tell your loved ones you love them, even those – especially those – you haven’t talked to in a while, and most of all, let go of what no longer serves you; you will be a much happier person once you finally understand it’s easier to walk without carrying so much baggage.

"Wet Grave" by Barbara Hambly -- A Book Review

2010-08-01T08:59:00.004-04:00

Not usually a fan of historical novels, I hesitated somewhat when I picked up a copy of Wet Grave by Barbara Hambly, but as fate would have it, I did buy the book, and I am ever so grateful I did. The story takes place in 1830s New Orleans, and highlights a time in history when justice was an elusive luxury, especially if one was a freed colored citizen.

Benjamin January, the well educated son of a placeé – a former slave kept as a mistress by the man who bought and freed her – who is now a surgeon and musician, is summoned by his sister when an old drunk prostitute is found slashed to death in her own home. When January arrives on the scene, he recognizes the dead woman as Hesione LeGros, a once beautiful society mistress he had the opportunity to befriend many years before. Nobody but January seems to care about the old woman’s death, and he is encouraged by many to abandon the case once it becomes apparent authorities are not willing to become involved.

January, however, is haunted by his own need to discover the truth and, supported by Rose Vitrac, the woman he loves, he embarks on a journey of no return, in which the hunter becomes the hunted, and some questions are best left unanswered.

When murder strikes closer to home and leaves January heart-broken and angry, he and Rose are on the run, colored fugitives seeking sanctuary in the unforgiving depths of stormy bayous. Will they discover who murdered Old Hessie, or will they also fall prey in a game of cat and mouse?

Barbara Hambly has masterfully created a story one can get lost into, with a plot as thick and edgy as the sultry heat swallowing the Deep South in mid-summer. The historical references are well developed and even sprinkled with delightful encounters; among those, the meeting of January with Marie Laveau, the notorious queen of voodoo, as he seeks guidance on his quest.

The novel is extremely descriptive, and rich details are freely dispensed to allow the reader the luxury of being transported through time and space. Wet Grave is a great read for anyone passionate of historical fiction, for mystery lovers and for those interested in southern fiction with an edge into reality.

Help to the Gulf Region

2010-07-31T10:10:00.001-04:00

Hey folks! I just wanted to alert everyone to the fact that $1 from each sale of Kindle copies of my books will be donated to the Gulf region.

http://amzn.to/c2Opxs

http://amzn.to/aMh34f

Help me spread the word...every little bit helps. :)

The Treadmill

2010-07-30T07:04:00.000-04:00

When my mother mentioned buying a treadmill once, my father looked at her with a slightly surprised frown on his face. “That contraption won’t take you anywhere,” he said, “you walk and walk, and you never move from the point you started.” It was a joke, of course, but when I thought about those words later on in life, I realized they can be applied to more than exercise.

A treadmill is surely a great invention – one can walk in the comfort of one’s own home, sheltered from petty crime, elements, and even loneliness, as a TV is often nearby; one can also exercise without getting dressed, as a treadmill, thankfully, has no mirrors. Those are all great advantages, and it is understandable why many prefer walking on a rolling mat than on a sidewalk, but, like all things, even treadmills have downfalls.

Growing up in the city I walked everywhere, and it wasn’t long before I started noticing life exploding all around me as I did. While walking to school in the mornings, I always passed by a bakery owned by the father of one of my friends. I still remember the fragrant aroma of freshly baked focaccia, as it escaped the poorly sealed door like a genie freed from of a bottle. As I waited from my friend – she used to go help her parents at the bakery before school – I often stood outside the door, watching people walk in and out of the café directly across the street. For a few mornings, I had noticed a boy who always seemed to walk into the cafe staring down at his feet; after a few moments inside, he always came out holding a small white paper bag and never looked up. That morning he dropped his paper bag, and while normally I would have just remained frozen by the door, I had a sudden burst of courage, walked over, picked up the bag and handed it to him. He raised his eyes and smiled at me, and when he did, I noticed the skin on his neck was badly damaged from a bad burn. When he saw me looking at it, he quickly looked down, but I told him my name and asked for his. That morning marked the beginning of a good friendship that lasted many years and was a great source of support while growing up.

I still like to walk. Over the years, walking has allowed me to witness many situations I have learned something from, and has gifted me with opportunities to notice the unpretentious beauty of things and people around me. Many of those things would have gone completely unnoticed had I chosen to walk on a treadmill instead.

We often give up on exploring opportunities because we are afraid to detach from a false sense of security and comfort, at the cost of isolating and limiting ourselves. We contemplate the need of making changes in our world, but more times than not, we are not ready to let go of what’s holding us back. Even when we are unhappy of our current situation, we stick with it because it feels familiar, because we don’t want to stir the pot, because, ultimately, we are afraid of upsetting the order of things and getting lost in the shuffle. We have the power to change, and yet many of us continue walking on the treadmill, basking in the illusion that we ARE doing something while in fact we are not. In the end, we CAN turn off the switch, step off and walk outside into the real world; when we do, we will truly know we are getting somewhere.

Instant Reward vs. Long-Term Benefits

2010-07-29T05:39:00.003-04:00

“Opportunity may knock only once, but temptation leans on the doorbell.” ~ Author Unknown

Yesterday I had the best time talking to my daughter and two of her little friends, as they were telling me what they want to be when they grow up. Although Princess was definitely on top of the chart, the next two hot personas on the “want to be” list were mommy and model. That fun talk made me think about all the projects that we envision and give up because of obstacles and hardship. Are obstacles the main reason for abandoning our goals? Or could it be that instant reward often gets in the way of our allegiance to the original plan?

Humans are naturally creatures of comfort, and will choose the easy path that will cause the least amount of unease. Unless we are able to exercise a good dose of self-discipline, most of us are inclined to take the easy road and succumb to the temptation of instant reward.

Long-term benefits offer a reward which is often in our greater interest but might take months or years to solidify, while temporary satisfaction manifest immediately but is likely not what we need in the long run. When we give in to temptation we feel momentarily exhilarated, but quickly develop feelings of guilt as we feel that we have cheated ourselves. Instant reward can come in the form of indulgence or as a band-aid – regardless of which we act upon, we feel frustrated with ourselves and are more likely to give in on future occasions. There are ways to build a stronger resolve. One of them is to set small goals for ourselves - not too far down the road - and stick with them, independently from the fires that erupt around us. We can increase the amount of time between the original plan and the reward and continue telling ourselves that it is only a temporary state of discomfort.

Everything can be overcome one step at a time, if we accept that life itself is dynamic and therefore on a constant energy shift. If I was to wake up tomorrow morning and someone told me to quit smoking forever, I would find that thought overwhelming; if, instead, was told to quit for a day, or an hour at a time, I could summon the resolve to follow through for such a short time. We can’t keep our mind focused on forever but everyone can sacrifice for one day. Maybe, then, our long-term reward can become a much closer goal – one we can feel comfortable sticking with in preparation of bigger things to come.

Back to New Orleans -- Let the Magic Begin!

2010-07-28T05:03:00.002-04:00

There are moments that remain so clear in one’s mind that it would be suitable to say they were forever captured in a mental photograph. For me, one of these moments took place a little over a year ago, when on a chilly April afternoon – a snapping breeze was blowing in, unforgivably and unseasonably, from the Mississippi river only a couple of blocks down – I stood at the corner of Dumaine and Royal in new Orleans, and vowed to be back the next year or even sooner.

Earlier that day my parents and I had gone on a tour of Honey Swamp and, tired after the trip, my mother and father had decided to stay back at the hotel while I went strolling around in the Quarter. Once I crossed Canal Street, it wasn’t long before I felt as if I had stepped through a magical portal: Happy people, their lightly powdered shirts a delightful reminder they had betrayed their New Year’s resolutions, and had been unable to resist the forbidden aroma of warm beignets and coffee, walked around in no hurry, while the sound of street performers increasingly swallowed the pockets of silence with each step I took toward Jackson Square. New Orleans is one of those cities – in fact, it is THE city -- one can’t fully understand until one has experienced its magic. Unlike most beautiful tourist venues, New Orleans lives and breathes, and hums a melody of its own creation, familiar enough to make everyone feel at home within its weathered alleys, and certainly unique enough to take one’s breath away. Shy of the Eiffel Tower, New Orleans is the younger sister of Paris.

Once I got a little deeper into the heart of the Quarter, I suddenly thought of something: New Orleans isn’t only famous for its beautiful wrought iron balconies, but also for its pulsating spiritual essence…so what if I asked a little help from the very same Saints I had grown to know and appreciate throughout my life? I stopped by a bar and bought a beer, then walked down to a tobacco shop and bought a cigar -- both items are customarily offered to Elegba, the opener of doors, who’s also known as Eleggua or even St. Michael and St. Anthony, but I won’t linger on this too long, since it is really not important in this story – then sat on a doorstep, lifted the bottle of beer a trifle, and lit the cigar. As I blew a puff of smoke toward the sky, I silently offered the cigar and the beer to Elegba, and mentally voiced my petition – within a year, I wanted to be back in the same spot, and be able to once again drink in the joyful energy of the place.

After I left New Orleans, the year blew by swifter than the breeze lifting from the river. Many things happened in the interim, including the release of my two books; and now, as I am taking one day at a time venturing into the bayous of the publishing world, my petition came to pass: On September 8, I will be boarding a plane heading to the city of my heart, as part of The Book of Obeah promotional tour.

So, thank you Elegba, for opening this amazing door…I will see you in New Orleans, the cigar is on me.

The Power of a Decision

2010-07-27T04:48:00.001-04:00

"You are the person who has to decide. Whether you'll do it or toss it aside, you are the person who makes up your mind. Whether you'll lead or will linger behind; whether you'll try for the goal that's afar, or just be contented to stay where you are." ~ Edgar A. Guest

If we were to sit down and think about how many decisions we make on top of a day, we would be astounded. Everything requires a decision - from the type of clothes we wear to greater choices which have the power to affect the course of our lives and that of others. Every accident, every situation, could have been different had we made a different decision.

A few days ago I was talking to a friend previously involved in relationship with a widower who has a teenage son. Since the very early days after they met, she and the boy never got along, as she felt the son was rude to her, and did things out of spite to break up her relationship with the father. After a few months of constant arguing, things got very tense for my friend and her partner. The animosity between her and the teenager continued to grow and evolved into a power struggle. Finally, rather than letting go of the hard feelings, my friend decided she was going to set her foot down and show her acquired son who was in charge. Within a few weeks her relationship with the father was defunct. Two months later, she has yet to let go of the anger sparked during the relationship. In her mind, the son was evil and the father spineless for giving in to his whims; what she always refused to see was that a lot of the friction was spawn by her own insecurities and choices. Certainly she had the right to voice her opinion and make it clear that she wasn’t happy about the father’s decisions, but by doing so she forfeited something else that was important to her – her relationship with the man she loved.

Every decision we make has the potential of being a double-edged sword, and before we indulge a certain choice or behavior we should be fully aware of what the consequences are going to be. If we feel that we are prepared to deal with those consequences because our sense of pride and self-righteousness is stronger than the loss that will ensue, then we are on the right path. If instead the relationship, or the job, is important to us – even if we feel we have the right to complain - we might need to take the time to evaluate the whole situation before we make a decision. Everything in life works on compromise; we forfeit what is less important in favor of what matters most. As we see often in the case of medication – fixing one thing while potentially hurting another – we need to weigh the pros and cons, and then decide what is best. Holding our peace may be hard, but in some instances it can be the only lifesaver if what we are protecting is dear to us. My friend’s decision was a balm for her pride and the executioner’s axe for her relationship at the same time. Did she do the right thing by standing her ground or should she have kept cool to safeguard her relationship?

Ultimately we can’t control the actions or the thoughts of others, but we do have carte blanche on how we will deal with the situations that arise. Depending on our decision, things will either turn in our favor or against us; we have the power of changing circumstances by making decisions that are based on wisdom rather than ego. The choice is up to us.

The Car Rolling Down the Hill

2010-07-26T05:39:00.001-04:00

It is not uncommon for strange things to happen when my friend Donna and I get together for meditations. Saturday night was no different, but what we learned from an odd occurrence only confirmed something we had already come to terms with.

After an unusually rough week for my friend, we decided to get together for coffee. She arrived at my house around nine at night, after my children had gone to bed, and we sat at my kitchen table discussing all that had happened. To her credit, she had really waded through rough waters – her lawnmower had died unexpectedly, she had hit debris from an accident in the very early hours of the morning which had, unfortunately, damaged one of her tires, and to crown an already challenging week, she was forced to rescue an animal whose owners didn’t care for, whom had to be put to sleep.

Being a passionate animal lover, the last task had emotionally affected her a great deal, and she was close to tears. After discussing all the situations, we both agreed that while life happens, things could have been worse – just three years before, she would not have had the financial resources to replace her dead lawnmower, or the damaged tire; her tire could have blown out while she was driving and, as painful as being responsible for ending the misery of an animal had been, she was happy the dog was finally free of pain, and she had been there to comfort the poor soul during her last moments on earth.

As always, after chatting for a while, we went to my living room, set across from each other in front of my coffee table, lit a candle and put on soft music, to facilitate a meditative state. It was like a weight was suddenly lifted off our shoulders, and after about twenty minutes of restoring meditation we went back to the kitchen to gather her things so she could leave. We hugged and I opened the door. She took one step outside and said: “Where did my Jeep go?”

We walked outside and her car, which had been parked in front of my house, was gone. A bit confused, we walked together across the yard, and saw the car had rolled down the hill, and had stopped only about a foot from a shiny red truck parked on the street in front of one of the neighboring yards. When the car had rolled down, the front tire had bumped against the curb and had come to a stop. Our first thought was that the handbrake had failed, or that, maybe, she had accidentally hit the gear shift on her way out, and it had set on neutral. None of the above – the car was in first gear, and the handbrake, upon further examination by a mechanic in the morning, was absolutely fine.

When we spoke on the phone around lunchtime, we both came to the same conclusion. It was almost as if Spirit had decided to validate our discussion by showing us that things could have gone much worse, but in the end, they didn’t. The car was fine, my neighbor’s truck was untouched, the brake was functioning, and even the tire which had hit the curb was absolutely fine and mark-free. What started as a stressful week ended up being cloaked in a comforting sense of peace, and once again we were happy that Spirit had decided to throw in His two cents to confirm that our thoughts were indeed on the right path.

"A Nay for Effort" by Dan Bain -- A Book Introduction

2010-07-25T09:54:00.004-04:00

I would like to introduce you to someone you will surely enjoy knowing: Please meet Dan Bain, a personal friend, witty comedian, and now published author. Dan has published his first book, "A Nay for Effort", a collection of humoristic essays about life and its lessons.

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/a-nay-for-effort/11788747

Not only am I impressed with all Dan has been able to accomplish, but I also take my hat off to his decision of donating 10% of sales proceeds to schools and organizations that support education.

CONGRATULATIONS, DAN! It couldn't have happened to a better person!!!

Legion -- A Movie Review

2010-07-23T05:44:00.002-04:00

“When you say a situation or a person is hopeless, you are slamming the door in the face of God.” ~ Charles L. Allen

After hearing my son gushing above the movie “Legion” for two days, yesterday afternoon I finally sat and watched it with him and some of his friends. Accustomed to the fact that to teenage standards a ‘great movie’ is usually a film heavily saturated with explosions and stomach-turning gore, I didn’t expect that I would remain glued to the edge of my seat – aside from a few times when I literally jumped – from beginning to end.

The story begins with a disagreement between archangels Gabriel and Michael. Gabriel announces that time has come for humanity to come to an end, since the Creator believes hope is lost for all of mankind. Archangel Michael does not agree, and he takes it upon himself to come down to earth, and make one final try – a baby, about to be born, has the power to save humanity, but since the higher orders are to bring life as we know it to an end, an army of angels is sent down to prevent the birth of the child.

What appears to be a battle between good and evil is, ultimately, a battle between hopeful and hopeless, as archangel Michael risks his life and his place among the blessed ones to fight for the ultimate savior – faith.

The film strongly features our society’s love affair with violence and high-power weapons, but the message it conveys is strong and to the point. When all seems hopeless, true hope is finally born, or, to quote a line from the movie: “When you are lost is when you are truly found.”

This movie is rated R, and while some of the scenes are purely funny, others can be a little disturbing, even if none of the special effects are particularly out of the ordinary. But, when all is said and done, I can assure you that after watching, you will feel a little different about the ice cream truck driving through your neighborhood…

Expressions, Expressions...

2010-07-22T07:10:00.003-04:00

Always having been fond of languages and intrigued by the origins of certain expressions, I would like to share some tidbits a friend sent me yesterday. I hope you will find them as interesting and entertaining as I did. (The source of this information is unknown to me, therefore I cannot vouch for its accuracy.)

In George Washington's days, there were no cameras. One's image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted, but by how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are 'limbs,' therefore painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, 'Okay, but it'll cost you an arm and a leg.' (Artists know hands and arms are more difficult to paint)

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As incredible as it sounds, men and women took baths only twice a year (May and October). Women kept their hair covered, while men shaved their heads (because of lice and bugs) and wore wigs. Wealthy men could afford good wigs made from wool. They couldn't wash the wigs, so to clean them they would carve out a loaf of bread, put the wig in the shell, and bake it for 30 minutes. The heat would make the wig big and fluffy, hence the term 'big wig.' Today we often use the term 'here comes the Big Wig' because someone appears to be or is powerful and wealthy.

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In the late 1700's, many houses consisted of a large room with only one chair. Commonly, a long wide board folded down from the wall, and was used for dining. The 'head of the household' always sat in the chair while everyone else ate sitting on the floor. Occasionally a guest, who was usually a man, would be invited to sit in this chair during a meal. To sit in the chair meant you were important and in charge. They called the one sitting in the chair the 'chair man.' Today in business, we use the expression or title 'Chairman' or 'Chairman of the Board.’

A Very Special Mission

2010-07-21T04:25:00.004-04:00

In the aftermath of Teghan Alyssa Skiba’s senseless death, people are shaking their heads. http://abclocal.go.com/wtvd/story?section=news/local&id=7564831
Whenever a child dies, many wonder why such young lives are prematurely ripped away rather than given the opportunity to live out their full existence on this earth. Whether it is because of an accident, disease, or even murder as in the case of little Teghan, the death of someone young is always a hard one to accept. It is common to hear people discredit a Higher Power and think that if a God truly exists He would not allow people to suffer and children to die.

But what if this the short time they have lived was the entire amount of time a soul was allotted for this earthly trip? What if their mission was only one of support for other souls?

In my personal set of beliefs, I think that we are born with a specific purpose, which will help us learn some of the lessons our soul needs to master before evolving. Each soul may have fewer or more lessons to learn than others, and that – along with the time needed to produce the right situations – determines the length of our stay. Once we pass on, we review what we have learned, and the lessons we haven’t mastered will have to be repeated again. Some souls reach the point of having mastered all the fundamental lessons, and it is up to them if they want to remain within the realms of light or go back to be a support system for the souls that still have to learn more.

Most of the young people who pass away are usually described as extremely loving and peaceful, and their brief stay is an undeniable gift to those who have been fortunate enough to have them in their lives, if only for a short while. There is no telling what kind of lessons they are supporting, but their presence will always leave a strong mark. They are angels who take the time to come down, and mingle with us for a breath of time, to make sure that other souls can learn to fly a little bit higher.

The Window

2010-07-20T05:40:00.003-04:00

(Painting by Pam Scarboro)

Someone sent me this by e-mail, and I just had to post it. Have a wonderful day, everybody.

A young couple moves into a new neighborhood.

The first morning in the new house, while she is eating breakfast with her husband, the young woman watches her neighbor hang the laundry outside to dry.

Pointing her finger at some visible stains on the freshly laundered garments, the woman tells her husband: “Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”

Her husband looks on, but remains silent.

From that day on, every time she sees her neighbor hang her wash to dry, the young woman continues to make the same comments.

A month later, the woman is surprised to see sparkly clean sheets on the line, and says to her husband: “Look! She has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder what changed.”

The husband says: “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows!”

And so it is with life: What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look. Before we give any criticism, it might be a good idea to ask ourselves if we are ready to see the good, rather than look for something in the person we are about to judge.

The Devil's Drop

2010-07-19T05:04:00.004-04:00

After promising our children that we would spend the day at a water park, my husband and I got up early and got everything together, only to find out upon calling that the water park we had planned to go to was no longer open. Not exactly excited at the thought of driving the hour and a half necessary to reach the one in Greensboro, but even more unwilling to listen to the kids complain the rest of the day, we decided to bite the bullet and face the long drive. Since everything was already prepared, and the kids were very excited from the moment we woke them up with news of the trip, we were on the road within thirty minutes.

When we arrived, we took one quick tour to identify the coolest attractions, and Morgan immediately had her heart set on a new 40-foot slide, completely vertical, called “The Devil’s Drop.” Just looking at it made me dizzy, and I was positive she would turn around the moment she got up to the top. Ha! I was in for a good surprise…Morgan went up, dad following right behind; she reached the top and stood up there like a star ready to receive a standing ovation. She grinned and lay down, and once the bar was lifted, flying down she went. I expected to see her upset by the time reached the bottom, but once again my assumption was wrong. When her little body finally came to a stop, she sat up and looked radiant. Dad, on the other hand, came down like a bullet shot by a beginner, and banged elbows and knees he didn’t even know he had; never mind the fact that his neck and back were also sore by the time he finally stopped at the bottom.

When we left the slide, I asked her what she thought of it and if she was scared. Her answer made me smile: “Well, I was a little bit scared when I first lay down, but when I began to speed, I just closed my eyes and pretended I was flying.” She went on to tell me how wonderful it felt to just be taken away, and how she just surrendered to the water and the speed with no care in the world. Dad, instead, admitted that when he took one look he could just imagine the pile his bones would make at the bottom of the drop, if something went wrong, and went down fearing the worst. Because of it, his body remained stiff, and the hard, unforgiving slide did the rest.

Much of what we experience is strongly related to the way we approach it. When fear gets in the way, we instinctually brace for the worst, and our ‘stiffness’ brings us more damage than we would encounter if we allowed ourselves to ride the wave and let it carry us to destination. Faith is a great remedy against fear – as long as we ‘know’ we are going to be alright, most likely we will be, for most of the damage along the ride is rarely caused by external sources, but rather by our own apprehension and hesitation.

In this case, Morgan knew the ride was safe, even if at first look it was easy to think otherwise; dad, instead, invested too much energy into worrying about the ‘ifs’ and the ‘maybes’ that COULD have occurred, even if the chance they would was extremely low. Worry, someone said, is interest paid on a loan you might never receive, but sometimes it is even worse: Afraid to get hurt, we might forfeit the chance to live life at its fullest.

The Dream House: Visions and Nightmares -- Book Review

2010-07-18T09:00:00.002-04:00

I ran into Victoria Roder’s novel, The Dream House: Visions and Nightmares, quite accidentally: While following a discussion on the Amazon forum which encouraged authors to pitch their books, I read a short synopsis of this story and immediately felt drawn to it.

The Dream House tells the story of Hope Graham, a woman who, night after night, is haunted by a recurring dream taking place in her childhood home. Concerned about her physical and mental wellness, she decides to visit the now abandoned and dilapidated house to seek answers and healing. She is determined to dig any secrets connected to the dwelling, and along the journey she meets several key characters: Ida, an old lady who’s an old-time resident and self-appointed ‘eyes and ears’ of the neighborhood; Clarissa, a self-absorbed woman who owned the property next door to the home Hope and her sister Samantha lived in before being adopted; and, finally, Brock, a local baker whose charm and good looks don’t go unnoticed from the moment he and Hope strike a casual conversation about the house. On her journey of discovery, Hope finds more than what she bargained for, and must now come face to face with a child’s worst nightmare, if she at all hopes to slay the demons of a painful past, and allow the energy still living in the house to rest in peace.

While The Dream House is an exciting read from the first few pages onward, the reader can’t help but gasp in surprise as the story evolves in a crescendo of emotional turmoil and paranormal suspense. What I found unique about this book, is the subtle connection between the supernatural activity described, and individual traumas buried deep within the folds of the subconscious mind.

The Dream House is definitely an exciting story. By the time I read the last page, I hated only one thing about it…that I was running out of pages to read.

Benefit Car Wash - Saturday July 17, 2010

2010-07-16T05:25:00.001-04:00

One of our Golo friends needs a little help. Unfortunately, her health has declined considerably, and she is now unable to work. Her family is doing the best they can, but it is often very hard to manage caring for a loved one who’s sick, and work enough hours to make ends meet. In order to offer the family a bit of relief, we have decided to dedicate this upcoming weekend’s car wash to her.

As always, our car wash will take place in the parking lot of Eastgate Shell, at 4043 Wake Forest Rd in north Raleigh. We will meet between the hours of 9 and 12 on Saturday, July 17. If you would like to help us, please just show up; or, if your car only needs a little TLC, we will be happy to wash it for you for a small donation. I know it’s a bit hot for coffee right now, but if you do enjoy a good cup in the morning, Eastgate Shell will provide free coffee for all who come. In contrast, my daughter will also be on premises, selling cold lemonade (nothing cuter than a little five-year-old selling lemonade at a homemade stand.)

So, please come down and see us this Saturday, and help us spread the word through your local social networks, your friends, co-workers and family members. We hand-wash all the cars and, if I may say so myself, we do a fine job for only a love donation. Why not take advantage of this great opportunity to give your car a bath and to help a friend in need at the same time?

I look forward to seeing many of you!

Hidden Blessings

2010-07-15T05:40:00.002-04:00

Some of you might be aware that my 12-year-old son is now on his fourth day trying to leave Italy and get back home. Because of flight delays and cancellations which have made it impossible for him to make his connection, and given that he is an unaccompanied minor, the airline has refused until today to board him until they were sure he could have proper supervision during layovers. This situation has caused everyone a lot of frustration, but in the end, we will never know if all he went through happened for a reason unknown to us. When I mentioned that to someone, yesterday, they said: ‘Well, the flight he was initially scheduled to be on reached destination without incidents, so I can’t imagine what the reason would be.”

Truth is that things aren’t always what they seem. Yes, the flight arrived – even if late -- but what if we had gone somewhere after his arrival and something happened then? Of course, that’s just a supposition, but I deeply believe that many situations are averted every day without us even knowing. When anything unpleasant occurs, it is always very difficult to see the hidden blessings. The people whose alarms didn’t work - or whose cars broke down - the morning of 9/11, were probably very angry, and didn’t realize their fortune until they heard what happened. We may misplace our car keys and spend thirty minutes looking for them. Meanwhile, thanks to that delay we might have missed getting into a traffic accident. We may be upset because we haven’t been hired for a job position we wanted; yet, if we had, we might have missed a better opportunity that was right around the corner. Going through this ordeal reminded me of a story someone e-mailed me some time ago, so I am including it in this post.

“Two angels were traveling the country, occasionally seeking food and shelter during their journey. They came upon a very poor farm, and asked for shelter. The farmer and his wife shared the little food they had, and offered their bed so the tired strangers could sleep comfortably. Early after the sun had risen, the two Angels were awakened by the farmer and his wife weeping. Their only cow, whose milk was their sole wealth, had died during the night. The younger Angel became angry, and asked the older spirit why he would let this poor man’s cow die. The older Angel replied: “Things aren’t always as they seem. When we were down in the basement, I saw gold hidden behind the wall, so I patched the hole to hide the fortune away from the greedy owner. Last night, while we were sleeping, I saw the Angel of Death coming for the farmer’s wife. I asked him to take the cow instead.” ~Author unknown

As all gifts, blessings come in many packages. Some are very obvious and colorful, while some others are so subtle that we don't even recognize them for what they are.
Each moment in our lives is a perfect moment, whether we do or don’t realize its value. Through our experiences we grow, learn, become better people; for some, the most meaningful gifts have come from the difficult moments they have survived.
As we are reminded by the older Angel, things aren’t always as they seem. Even the worst tragedy or the most annoying occurrence may hold the seed of our greatest blessing.

The Power of Being

2010-07-14T05:25:00.003-04:00

“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.

Welcome to the Jungle...

2010-07-13T05:17:00.003-04:00

I have always wondered what walking into a rain forest would feel like, and I have even gone as far as comparing that type of excitement to the adrenaline shot of venturing into a strange city. Yesterday, I entertained yet another thought: how has my daughter’s room come to resemble both of those places? After postponing cleaning out her bedroom and play area for a while – I think that’s part of the survival instinct to avoid something that can mean sure loss into the impenetrable – I woke up yesterday morning determined to organize those rooms. Pretty sure I was going to need a gun or a machete to make my way through, but not wanting to scare the kids on my way up, I instead grabbed a handful (a big one!) of large garbage bags and headed toward her room.

I entered Morgan’s room with a slightly elevated heartbeat, my body already knowing I was going to need extra coffee to undertake this task. The scene unfolding in front of my eyes was the mother of all jungles and could put the Big Apple to shame: toys were staring at me from every inch of the floor, as if daring me to come in; her bed was covered in little scraps of drawing paper she had shredded an hour before for a project, and her desk was covered by so many knick-knacks that I couldn’t tell the color of the plastic underneath. I took a deep breath and walked in, ignoring the evil stare of toys stubbornly guarding the entrance to the area under her bed. That was another reality altogether, which I wasn’t all too eager to enter yet.

I made my way to the bed and sat down, trying to figure out where I was going to start. I got rid of the scraps of paper, and put her unworn clothes back into the closet, barely making a dent. A decision had to be made and I needed to figure out something fast before she got back. I tried to think about what she would not miss, what she no longer used, and I continued coming up with a blank. All those toys, once I picked them up, brought something nice back to mind, and I had a hard time throwing them out; even giving them to charity, I felt like I was discarding memories. This approach wasn’t working, until I thought of a different way to tackle the problem…

What if, rather than selecting things she no longer needed, I focused on deciding which things she actually had a use for? Were there a few toys she absolutely couldn’t do without, that she played with every day? Were there any knick-knacks that were particularly dear to her heart or mine?

Feeling a solution was finally dawning, I looked around the room to collect the irreplaceable – a stuffed tiger she had since babyhood, a few board games she loves to play on rainy days, her art supplies, Hello Kitty and her clothes, and a few other pieces of memorabilia. After setting those objects to the side, I looked again, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important; then, I opened the bags and, one at a time, I filled them without even looking. Very soon, the impenetrable jungle looked like a manicured garden.

I left the room completely satisfied, and Morgan never even missed the things I took out. In fact, she walked into her room and clapped her little hands, saying that everything looked great. Never once did her thoughts wander to the myriad of happy meal toys in a basket under her bed, or to the dress-up set she HAD to have last year and had quickly outgrown. She didn’t miss those things because she never really cared for them; they were just there, an unseen part of her room décor or lack of.

Cleaning Morgan’s room made me think of how many times we focus our energy on deciding what we need to remove from our lives to make them work, when instead it would be so much easier to think of what we need in them and rid ourselves of the rest that no longer serves us. Humans are hoarders by nature, regardless if the loot is toys, clothes or merely emotions and past experiences. Surely we can approach a cleansing by picking up each individual thing and looking at it again, but most likely, we will only pick it up, find a reason to keep it, and end up just as cluttered as we were in the first place. Sometimes, spring cleaning starts with a simple assessment of what we can’t do without; the rest we can always send to Goodwill.

Ghost Walk, by Brian Keene -- A Book Review

2010-07-12T04:29:00.002-04:00

Skeptical about rumors of LeHorn’s Hollow being a haunted ground, a local hunter stumbles into a circles of old stones etched with strange, ancient-looking symbols. Excited by his find – and hoping these stones will prove to be a priceless archeological discovery – Rich digs one of them out. Unbeknownst to him, Noden, the living darkness who lay trapped beyond the gate kept sealed by the circles of sacred stones, is now able to reach out through the opening. In order for Noden and his minions to completely come out and destroy life, all the stones must first be removed by unsuspecting humans. Noden patiently waits to make his grand entrance at midnight on Halloween night, when the veil between the two worlds is at its thinnest. His plan is incidentally facilitated by Ken Ripple, a grieving widower whose goal is to build a ghost walk in memory of his late wife right in LeHorn’s Hollow. Only one person can stop Noden – Levi Stoltzfus was raised in an Amish family, but he abandoned his faith long ago to embrace a much wider truth. Levi is powerful, and aided by Spirit, yet he cannot act alone. With the help of Maria, a young journalist, and a novelist who’s dealt Noden’s minions before, Levi embarks on a journey against time to fight the forces of darkness.

As the hunter was skeptical about the rumors surrounding LeHorne’s Hollow, I must admit I was a bit skeptical about this story in the beginning. Usually unimpressed with most New Age fiction, I sat with this novel for less than thirty minutes before I became so engrossed in it that I didn’t want to put it down.

I immediately connected with Levi, and really appreciated the standpoint of Maria, the young journalist. I also found it quite endearing that this book linked, somewhat, to another favorite of mine, the Necronomicon; while unrelated to it, this story conveys some of the same information in a not-so-ominous fashion.

The writing style is pleasant and flows unrestricted. While I am not familiar (yet) with Brian Keene’s other works, I was quite impressed with Ghost Walk, and I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys fiction sprinkled with a good dose of magick and small town lore.

A Perfect Afternoon

2010-07-11T08:38:00.001-04:00

If one could write a recipe for the perfect afternoon, yesterday had all the right ingredients. After the baby-sitter arrived – to Morgan’s delight, since she adores her – I drove to Goldsboro for a book signing hosted by Wall2Wall Photography. While the sky appeared a bit crossed, the tears were stubbornly held back, and I enjoyed a rain-free trip. When I got there, two ladies – Elaine and Sherrill – were already there, and I parked behind one of their cars.

The next couple of hours were terrific. Some of Julie’s friends from her day job stopped by, purchased books and offered interesting conversation. The food was great – Sherrill, those Amaretto cookies were to die for! – the wine delightful and sweet, and all along we enjoyed a background of wonderful New Orleans Blues. To add to the magic, Julie’s family was there, and I thoroughly enjoyed talking to them.

After a while, one lady had to leave and my car was blocking her way, so I got my keys and went outside to move it. I initially thought of backing out all the way, but then I had this crazy thought of pulling over the side a bit and let her squeeze through. Well, squeeze she did, but my pulling to the side took a whole new meaning when I forgot that there was no side – I nicely backed into a drain ditch. Not even aware of it in the beginning, I was puzzled when my car didn’t move and thought I was stuck in the mud, until I got out and saw that the right back tire was airborne over the ditch.

We all stood there hoping to come up with a solution, when Julie’s husband decided to get his tractor and pull my car out. It only took a moment for him to pull the car and have it with all four tires on the ground. The moment we got back on the porch, a powerful storm approached; we barely made it under cover before the sky opened in a downpour.

The little “ditch accident” could have put a damper on the perfect afternoon, but once I totaled the facts, it was easy to see that nothing had happened – I was fine, the car was fine, Julie’s newly-planted Monkey Grass wasn’t even disturbed, and we had escaped the rain just in time. When the storm subsided a bit, it was time for me to head back home. As I drove, I thought back about the car in the ditch, and wondered if there was a silver lining to the little dark cloud. It wasn’t until I got closer to home that the answer to my question popped up.

Allowing minor trouble to come in and spoil our day is an easy thing to do, but it is something we can surely control. We can’t always be in charge of circumstances, but we always own our thoughts and the way we respond to challenges. The car in the ditch could have been something completely annoying, but we were able to turn it around and laugh about it, adding one more piece to an already beautiful puzzle. Life happens, but if we can strive to turn a negative into a positive, it can always be a fun adventure.

Benefit Book Signing: Saturday, July 10, 2010

2010-07-09T04:52:00.002-04:00

Wall 2 Wall Photography will be hosting one of my book signings, this Saturday July 10 between 2pm and 4pm, at the studio situated at 106 N. Martin Rd in Goldsboro. http://bit.ly/cxTqwE

One dollar from the sale of each book – The Book of Obeah and Housekeeping for the Soul -- at the signing will be donated to the Louisiana Gulf Response (www.lagulfresponse.org), via the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana (www.crcl.org), a local grassroots "boots on the ground" organization dedicated to preserving the Louisiana and Gulf Coast region.

This is part of the "Hooked on the Book" campaign, an initiative of The Piece Process (http://hookedonthebook.com/).

I hope to see you there!

The Morning Bun

2010-07-08T06:27:00.002-04:00

With temperatures breaking into the low 100s, yesterday was definitely a scorcher, but since a friend and I had planned to meet for coffee early in the day, it was still quite pleasant for us to sit at one of the outdoor tables at a local Starbucks.

Some of you might not know that I have an addiction to Starbucks’ morning buns, a delight of flaky pastry generously spiced with cinnamon and sprinkled with cane sugar, so when I walked in to get coffee and saw they had six left on the tray, I decided to buy all they had with the intention of eating one while I was there, and bringing the rest home to freeze for extended breakfast pleasure in days to come.

It didn’t take us long to see that while this location was not too congested with humans, it was the happy place of residence of many tiny birds that had even built two nests in the letters of the insignia, in the lower half of the ‘B’ and the upper part of the ‘A’, the two best seats in the house and the ones offering added protection from storms. I am sure the added benefit of many visitors dropping crumbs down below was one of the strong points of their choice of real estate.

Most of the little birds – I don’t know much about birds, so I have no idea what type they were – seemed to have no fear. From the moment I sat down with my unwrapped morning bun, the first courageous soul flew in right beside our table, and looked at me sideways the way only birds know how to do. I pinched a crumb and threw it his way, careful not to jerk my arm too fast and scare him away. He ate it and waited for more, and then, as if he had a tiny invisible trumpet only birdie ears could hear, the rest of the army came upon us, and I could not pinch crumbs fast enough. Our table was surrounded by little balls of feathers inching closer and closer with each falling bite of flaky goodness – thank God for those nice, colorful umbrellas over the tables…

Most of the birds ate and left, some even stopped along the way to pick up a few extra furnishings and building supplies for their homes, but one little bird stood at a distance; he watched other birds fill their minuscule tummies with eager eyes, but never dared to get closer and get a little for himself. I tried throwing him a crumb close to where he was, and again he didn’t trust me enough to partake of the banquet. When other birds left, he still remained in his position, interested but unwilling to jump into the heat of the action. I threw another crumb which landed right beside him and it moved his tiny head to peck at it, but he hesitated for too long and another bird came in and took it away. In the end, he left without even tasting the morning bun – great loss for the little bird, I might say.

Watching the behavior of animals is not too different than watching humans at play. In fact, the behavior of this particular bird was one which is not only very commonly seen, but also it is a behavior that greatly cripples people from moving forward in their lives.

Fear is one of the most crippling factors that can affect our growth, and hesitation is surely its bad cousin. Nothing would have happened to the little bird if he had come close enough to seize his crumb, but fear that something might happen stopped him in its tracks and left him with an empty stomach while all the other birds flew back to their respective homes a feather heavier. Dangers are real, and being a little cautious is surely wise, but allowing fear to get in the way can only lead to lack and stagnation. Even when the morning bun is really close.

Reaching for the Moon

2010-07-07T08:00:00.002-04:00

“Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.” ~ Louisa May Alcott

When I was a young girl, my family and I lived in a high-rise apartment building in the heart of the city. I loved sitting on the balcony at night, when the noise from the street had finally quieted down and the horizon came to life as a parade of lights. I especially loved to sit out there when the moon was full, since I find very few things to be as impressive and mystical as the jolly, tangerine-hued face of the moon peeking through the buildings. One night, it looked so big that I distinctly remember thinking I could touch it if I just reached far enough. Although touching the moon was not an option, I still enjoyed the feeling of peace and the pale light which seemed to enshroud everything in a silvery cloak of dreams and magic.

Not everyone dreams of touching the moon, but most of us set goals for ourselves. Some of the goals are little more than a speck of hope in the far distance, while some others are immediate plans we set out to achieve in our daily lives. Regardless of how practical, unthinkable, big or small our goals are, they can be achieved. If someone has reached them before us, it only means that a door must exist to get there. It may not be the first one we knock on, or even the second or third ones, but a path to our dreams certainly exists, if we are willing to put in the footwork to find it.

I remember having this conversation with my son, one night, while he was telling me about his passion for drumming. He felt that becoming a professional drummer is an impossible dream and he should focus on something more “concrete”. Given that he was raised by me, I was speechless…impossible? Nothing is impossible. The road might be rocky, and the journey a rough one, but if one has a clear destination in mind, going from point A to point B can definitely be in the cards.

Sticking with a personal goal is simpler than most think, as long as we realize that initial failure is nothing more than a stepping stone toward future success. An old proverb even states that we should fall seven times and get up eight. Short-term goals are probably the hardest ones to keep up with, as what motivates us to achieve them rarely originates in the fire of an individual’s inner passion; our resolve can easily deflate and we lose our momentum. By setting small goals and working toward them, we raise our inner bar of self-discipline, and through the joy of humble victories along the way we train for the marathon of touching the moon.

We don’t need to set our goals into the future – today is as good a day as any to get motivated, set goals, and begin to make changes, even if small ones. After all, all great runners started once by learning how to put one foot in front of the other. Time and persistence did the rest.

Wearing Someone Else's Clothes

2010-07-06T05:29:00.002-04:00

"Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.”~ Thomas A. Kempis

While shopping for girls clothes at a local department store, a few days ago, I couldn’t help overhearing a mother and daughter arguing while they scanned items on a rack. Frustrated, the mother turned toward another lady and sighed as she conveyed to her friend her inability to convince her daughter to wear ‘girl clothes.’

I briefly glanced at the mother as I walked away – her face was caked with excessive make-up, her hair was painstakingly kept in place by a generous amount of teasing and hairspray, and her attire spoke of a desperate attempt at stopping time and never getting old. The girl seemed just as frustrated as her mother, though her lack discontent was overshadowed by her mother’s imposing will to turn her young princess into a mirrored image of herself.

I left before the mother and daughter finalized any purchases, but as I walked out of the store I thought of how common it is for parents to live through their children, or to see their children as a continuation of themselves. Certainly, we all want to steer our offspring into a direction we believe will be beneficial to them, but is assumption of what is best for them always stemming from a neutral point of sheer good will, or could it be that at times we allow our own perception of things to get in the way?

What is good for one person is not necessarily good for another, even if they share a few pints of blood; similarly, what didn’t work out for one might, instead, be the saving grace of someone else. Imagine, for example, a mother whose dreams were sacrificed in the name of a relationship gone awry; would she keep her own bitter perception to herself, or would she try to convey her disappointment to her daughters, hoping to spare them the same fate? If she does, in fact, allow her personal, negative experiences to influence her teaching, she can rob her daughters of important experiences essential to their own growth as individuals.

I often see parents pushing children toward certain activities, even when their youngsters have no inclination toward them, only because those activities are something THEY would have liked to participate in. While it is nice to provide opportunities for children to spread their wings, their own preferences should be considered before anything else.

I hated sports and loved books, and I am sure there were plenty of times my father cringed when I turned my nose at watching a game with him, but thankfully, he never pushed the issue. My mother and sister lived – and still do, to an extent – for fashion and shopping; well, I didn’t like those either. When it came to recreational activities, I was the proverbial black sheep, but in the end, I liked what I liked, and being forced into the skin of a different person wasn’t going to magically turn me into someone I wasn’t.

Of course, we all have ideas of what we would like to see our children do, but I will always try to keep my two cents into my pockets. Will my sons and daughter follow the paths I think they will take? Maybe, or maybe not, but in the end my goal is to see them happy in the lives they have chosen.

Looking Up

2010-07-05T04:53:00.002-04:00

“He who likes cherries soon learns to climb.” ~ German proverb

My friend Julie and I have one thing in common – we both don’t like heights. In all truth, I don’t really mind heights if I know I am completely safe -- and I thoroughly enjoy a panoramic view from behind a protective window -- but you will not catch me alive on a tall ladder.

The other day, time came for my friend to face that tall demon, when she was commissioned by a local mall to take photographs of a firework display. Excited and terrified at the same time, she worried not just at the prospect of going all the way up, but also at the terrifying thought of climbing all the way down.

Here I was, the pot calling the kettle back, encouraging her to continue her ascent and never look down; even as I wrote that, my mind spun at the mere thought of being in her place. Yet, my friend was counting on me for support, and support I was going to give. “Keep looking up,” I said sounding more assured than I felt, “even when you are climbing down.”

In the end, not only did Julie make it back down safely, but she also had a blast!

As we were writing back and forth the night before, Julie and I speculated on the possibility that our fear of heights reflects our fear of moving forward in our lives. Both of us are standing at a professional crossroads right now, where every turn can either hide a mind-blowing surprise, or a heart-breaking disappointment. As long as we lay low and close to earth, we can only get hurt a little if we stumble, but how bad could we possibly get injured, if we climb too high, too fast, and suddenly fall? Someone once said that if you have nothing you never have to worry about losing anything; similarly, if you never go up, you never have to worry about falling down; because of that, we often postpone our ascent, knowing that while we might not achieve much by remaining stuck in our safe place, we won’t lose much either.

Our problem is that as we approach our ‘ladder’, our thoughts are focused on our descent, rather than centering on what we will see when we make it up to the top. We invest so much energy worrying about what might happen if we fall that we often end up self-sabotaging in the desperate attempt of creating a safety net.

Julie went up and loved the view, felt proud of having finally conquered her fear and had no problems climbing back down; when it was time to descend, she allowed her body to follow the motions, but her eyes remained focused on what was above her, rather than giving in to the temptation of looking down.

Kudos to you, Julie, for setting your eyes on the stars. Why look down at how far we could fall, when we can look up and see how far we can reach?

Perception and YOUR Reality...Discussion and Competition!

2010-07-03T09:58:00.003-04:00

I would love to invite you all to participate in a competition sponsored by The High Heeled Guide to Enlightenment.

http://highheeledenlightenment.ning.com/forum/topics/perception-and-your

This is going to be fun! Stop by today and join our discussion. I would love to hear your story, and how your own point of perspective affects your perception. The winning entry will receive a copy of my recently released novel, The Book of Obeah.

Have a blessed weekend everybody!!!

The Shoes on the Road

2010-07-02T05:56:00.002-04:00

I have always liked to observe everything, but while observing can be a fun and even informative practice when one is just walking around, it is not always a top choice when one is driving.

Yesterday afternoon I ran into – or should I say escape? – an interesting situation, compliments of my tendency to observe everything on my path. I was driving home from the grocery store, and stopped at a red light before turning left into my subdivision. While I waited, something on the road caught my eye – three shoes, all different, were piled up beside the median: a man’s shoe, a woman’s, and one that looked as if it could belong to a little girl. I thought the combination was quite strange…why only one of each? As I pondered the unusual assortment of shoes, I didn’t notice the light had turned green.

The driver in the car behind me blew the horn and I jumped back into real time, but before the signal traveled from my ears to my brain and from my brain to my foot, a few seconds went by….and those few seconds very likely saved my life; in the least, they insured I didn’t get hurt. A car, traveling in the opposite direction, drove straight through the red light, and had I not been mesmerized by the three odd shoes on the side of the road, I would have been directly on its path at the very same time it went through.

I turned into my subdivision, my mind still trying to absorb the intensity of what had just happened. This is not the first time I’ve been spared a close call, and sometimes I have to wonder if distractions are not put on our path to slow us down and avoid the unthinkable. The driver who honked his horn must have been a bit shocked as well, because I noticed he slowed down considerably. Could it be that whenever we misplace our keys or something completely random occurs, it is only the hand of fate pulling us back from rushing into a situation that might not be good for us?

Surely, it could also be a coincidence, but at least in my own perception, I have come to accept coincidences don’t really exist. In fact, whenever I have paid enough mind to so-called ‘coincidences’, a pattern has begun to form, directing my attention to something I needed to become aware of at the time.

I don’t think the three different shoes had any particular significance, other than serving the purpose they were placed there for. Yet, I was happy they were in that specific spot on my path, and became visible to me at exactly the time they did. If they hadn’t been there, or if I had remained unaware, I might not be writing this post.

I got home, unloaded the groceries and went inside; my little daughter, who had stayed home with her big brother, came running into the kitchen and gave me a huge bear hug. When I brought the groceries in, I almost tripped into my son’s shoes, as always left in the doorway – will that boy ever learn to put his shoes away? – but this time I didn’t get angry…for once, shoes in my way had been my ticket to get back home to my children.

Book Review - "North Carolina Trivia," by John V. Wood

2010-07-01T05:41:00.003-04:00

Did you know that if an unmarried couple check into a hotel and mark the “married” box on the registration form, then by the power vested by the state of North Carolina, they are officially husband and wife? And did you know that if you sing off-key for longer than 90 seconds in Nags Head, you can be fined? But, surely, you didn’t know that it is illegal, in North Carolina, to use an elephant to harvest a cotton field.

These, and many more interested tidbits, are what kept me glued to North Carolina Trivia, a book recently released by John V. Wood, a Johnston County middle school teacher.

I loved reading funny town names such as Boogertown, Half Hell and Tick Bite and to learn there are seven kinds of dolphins found off the North Carolina coast. Also, with all the talk of tea parties of late, I found it quite interesting that a native Tar Heel woman helped spark the resistance against British rule during the American Revolution with her own tea party.

North Carolina Trivia has something for everybody. Loaded with fun-to-read, informative tidbits about local fauna, history, education, sports, old laws and businesses (did you know the Pepsi-Cola Company was incorporated in North Carolina in 1902?), this book was an absolute delight to dive into.

The format is great and easy to search and read; divided in sections organized by topic, the book is written in a highly entertaining, humoristic tone which won’t fail to amuse the young and old alike. It is an informative guide for school-age children and a good tool for teachers wishing to inspire local love among their pupils.

North Carolina Trivia is definitely a book I would recommend to readers living in North Carolina, and to anyone interested in traveling or moving to our beautiful state.

http://www.johnvwood.com/index.html

Life Patterns (repost)

2010-06-30T04:29:00.002-04:00

If we observe the people who walk into our lives – whether they are there to stay, or are only briefly touching our existence with their presence – we will see that they often resemble one another in character. It is not uncommon to hear people say: “I’ve married my mother” or “I’ve married my father”.

This fact struck me several years ago, when I met a girl who was involved into a very abusive relationship. She told me she was planning on leaving her spouse, and starting a new life. I talked about it with my own husband and we agreed that it would be okay for her to stay with us for a while, at least until she got on her feet. During the few months she lived with us, she opened up a little and told us that this was the fourth abusive relationship she had been into. I was dumbstruck. The odds of running into one abusive relationship are probably fifty-fifty, but running into four of them by the age of thirty-one could not be coincidental. It was almost as if this girl had a label pasted on her forehead, advertising that she was looking for yet another violent man. Then, one night she told me that her father was abusive to her mother and to her. He had beaten both of them physically and verbally, until the mother decided to get out of the marriage and jump into yet another abusive relationship. That, suddenly, explained it all.

As children, we absorb whatever is being fed to us, whether it is praise or judgment, respect or abuse. After taking it all in, the child has no clue what to do with it. The baggage of emotional charge connected to the events long pushed away is not discharged but safely tucked into a secret chest in the attic of the mind. Once put away and dulled by the passing of time, the child pretends it is not there, and attempts to create a life different than the one he or she dreamt of escaping.

Although the new life appears full of promise, the unreleased pain is still screaming to be taken out of its hideout and be sorted out; since the owner of the chest is not willing to take the heavy old thing out of the attic, afraid of reliving the emotional charge connected to the events tucked away, the pain trickles out of the aging, rotten wood, and sneaks out uninvited, haunting the chambers of the subconscious mind and triggering behaviors which promote unhealthy lifestyles. The wounded child is still alive and well, and needs to understand whether he or she is to blame for what happened so long ago.

Youth therapists draw painful occurrences from the well of children’s subconscious minds through role play. It is amazing what will come up from those sessions; the children reenact the very same things that have caused a trauma in their young life, over and over. As adults we do the same; we recreate in our new life the same situations we tried to escape as children, simply to understand the role we played in the unfolding of those past events. We are attracted to and attract people who will support our role play, and the pattern will continue until we have identified the matrix, and dealt with the emotional charge we put away so long ago.

Observing our life patterns will not solve all our problems, but will provide us with a valuable hint to get started in our search. All we need to do is look around ourselves and, for once, not be afraid of the monsters in the attic.

Stuck With Someone Else's Garbage

2010-06-29T06:59:00.003-04:00

While I was driving to the mall, last week, one of my neighbors called my cell phone and asked if my son could possibly take her trash can to the curb for her, since she and her husband were out of town. My son, who was sitting in the car and heard the conversation, promptly agreed to help.

We got to the mall, shopped and talked, drank coffee, ate dinner and took my daughter to the play area; by the time we got home, we pulled directly into the garage and completely forgot about the neighbor’s garbage. The next morning, I watched the collectors drive in front of my house, stop at the curb and empty the receptacles – my husband had taken ours out before going to work -- and still no recollection of my neighbor’s trash can swam up to the surface. I walked outside to put a few pieces of mail into the mailbox and watched another neighbor wheel his receptacle back into the garage, and suddenly I remembered!

Praying in my heart that my son had remembered and had gone to the neighbor’s house after we got home without telling me, I glimpsed the curb, and to my expected disappointment, I knew he had forgotten as well. I felt terrible. I walked back to my house and looked up the number for solid waste collection, hoping that, if the truck was still in the vicinity, it could detour a bit and come back by. No such luck. The truck had already left my subdivision and I would have had to pay $50 for them to come back around. Attempting to be helpful, the person who took the call suggested I drive to the nearest landfill.

After hanging up the phone I weighed the landfill option – I drive a small sport car which could never house such a big receptacle, so maybe I could just take the bags out of it and fit them in the trunk somehow…

That idea quickly dissolved like fog in bright sunshine the moment I lifted the lid. Filled to the rim, the stench was overwhelming even in the open air; there was no way I could load those bags into my car. So, I was left with one final option…asking my husband to come to the rescue. I called him on his cell phone while he was picking up our son from Drivers Ed, and explained the situation. Though not happy about it, he drove back to work, borrowed his brother’s pick up truck and came back to load my neighbor’s garbage receptacle to empty it at the dumpster behind his business.

Within thirty minutes he was there, and he and my son took care of the dreaded chore. While I waited for them to come back home with the empty trash can, I thought of how unsettling it is to remain stuck with someone else’s garbage. Even if in this situation I had ‘stuck’ myself with it by forgetting something I had committed to do, there have been times when I have been an unwilling recipient of emotional garbage because I haven’t set proper boundaries.

Many mistakenly believe that by setting boundaries they will be less compassionate, while in most cases it is quite the opposite. One can be compassionate and able to sympathize with a family member better if their point of perspective is fresh and untainted. If, on the other hand, one is busy carrying one’s own personal garbage and that of others on top of it, this person will be completely overwhelmed and will be of little help to anyone.

My consulting editor, Dena, has come up with a genial way of being involved without being sucked into the drama of others, and she has brilliantly called it ‘being compassionately detached.’

Agreeing to be compassionately detached allows one to be open up to the energy of others and encourage them toward seeking a solution, while avoiding to remain stuck into someone else’s drama. Each person has a path to walk and lessons to learn, and sometimes wishing them well on their journeys is all one can do.

Stuck With Someone Else's Garbage

2010-06-29T06:56:00.001-04:00

The "Tired" Vacuum Cleaner

2010-06-28T04:54:00.003-04:00

The past few days it has been late spring cleaning time at the Carrington-Smiths. With two very busy months behind, one kid ready to travel and two more eager to start their summer fun, April cleaning has had no choice but become June cleaning.

My daughter, typically unwilling to attend chores she could help with but hell-bent on mastering tasks out of her league, begged for a chance at proving her domestic skills. After careful pondering and a lot of negotiations – to include a small bonus attached to her weekly allowance – she settled on vacuuming the stairs with a small Dirt Devil.

She was on a mission. Armed with the small vacuum, she walked resolutely toward the first staircase, ready to suck the life out of every dust particle in her path. Her enthusiasm lasted about five minutes until she reached the fifth step; after that, she came down with a defeated look, informing me that the vacuum cleaner was ‘tired.’

Having seen many strange things in my day, but never having run into a tired vacuum cleaner, I set out to diagnose the sudden illness. Easier than assessing a childhood disease, it didn’t take long to determine that the refusal of the vacuum to cooperate in our cleaning effort was due to a dirty filter. Seeing that Morgan’s face still appeared a bit cloudy after my prompt intervention, I asked her what was wrong, so she took me by the hand and showed me a small trail of small clumps of dust and tiny particles of unidentified objects that came pouring down when she turned the vacuum cleaner upside down on her way to get help. “It spilled back out, Mom,” she said, “I vacuumed it up but it wouldn’t stay in.” Not wanting her to feel disappointed, I used the now clean vacuum cleaner to suck up the small pile; then, holding the little gadget up to avoid another spill, I went to empty into the trash.

A small, mindless chore; yet, it reminded me of how ‘garbage’ from the past can clog our inner filters to the point that we are not even able to pick up current debris, thus causing us to fail in the goals we presently have in mind. Surely, cleansing our mental filters is more challenging than cleaning dust out of a small Dirt Devil, but allowing ‘big clumps’ of past issues pile up is a choice we make, and one we can always change. Keeping the “old dust” in doesn’t necessarily translate into getting rid of it – it merely means that we have moved it from one place and stored it into another. We might never end up with a completely clean, factory-pristine filter, but we will at least know we have room to do away with the debris littering our present path.

The Dreaded Toy

2010-06-25T03:23:00.003-04:00

‘Then it shall come to pass, that the sword, which ye feared, shall overtake you there in the land of Egypt, and the famine, whereof ye were afraid, shall follow close after you there in Egypt; and there ye shall die.” ~ Jeremiah 42:16

Every so often, my daughter falls in love with a new film. The latest choice is the ever popular ET, the film that conquered the hearts of young and old over two decades ago. The other day, since it was very hot outside, she asked if we could just get some popcorn and watch ET together, so we settled in and got the movie started.

It was really interesting to watch her reaction when Elliott and his brother first run into ET – she laughed and thought ET was hilarious when he got scared and screamed. Her response set my thoughts off down a path that led to the day my eldest son watched the same movie for the first time. When ET screamed, he jumped out of his skin! After that, he was afraid of ET for years, and could not even look at pictures of it.

Several years after this particularly traumatizing episode, I took him and his brother to browse ‘Toys ’r Us’ before Christmas, with the intent of gathering ideas for Santa’s list. We walked around different aisles, and looked at different toys. Suddenly, one toy fell from a top shelf and landed directly on Stephen; when I looked at the toy I held my breath…it was a stuffed ET! Michael saw it, too, and instantly glanced at his brother who, in that moment, was still trying to absorb the terrifying reality of it and had automatically turned pale as a ghost. He was frozen in panic; so much in fact, that his mouth opened and closed, and then opened again without even uttering a single word.

A teenager now, Stephen is obviously no longer afraid of a fictional character, but throughout the years I have always found it fascinating how of all the toys that could have fallen, ET had to be the one. What he was most afraid of had found a way to haunt him in the craziest of ways.

After the “ET accident” I started paying attention to the fear patterns of people I knew, including myself. It never failed – the more one was afraid of something, the more the object of their fear would materialize in their lives. I’ve known some whose biggest fear was to be penniless, and most of them struggled with money the majority of their time; I’ve met people who were afraid to be abandoned or not be loved, and somehow, they found themselves walking the very same path they dreaded. I was afraid of spiders and, somehow, there used to always be one in close proximity every time I turned around. When I got over that fear, spiders suddenly migrated away from me.

Thoughts void of emotions flow through our minds constantly, but if not paid much attention, they just become reabsorbed by the collective consciousness; however, when thoughts are fueled by a powerful emotional charge such as fear, they suddenly vibrate at a higher level, strong enough to manifest into one’s reality.

I believe that Stephen learned a hard lesson that day, one I think he will never forget. To date, he smiles whenever he sees an image of ET. His own little personal demon had come to get him, but once he was able to breathe again, he realized it was nothing he couldn’t put back on a shelf.

The Day Isabel Came to Life

2010-06-24T04:15:00.003-04:00

With two kids home from school for the summer (one of them is visiting grandparents in Europe), personal engagements seem to find their place at the bottom of the proverbial list. When it was suggested to me by a friend that I should go meet the owner of Abagayle’s Books and Collectibles in Henderson in the hope of getting my books into her store, I called and talked to Abby, the owner.

Abby was very nice and personable, and I was amazed, after hanging up, to see that we had talked for almost an hour. We weren’t sure about dates for a signing, so I proposed to bring some books to her and try to find a day that was good for both of us.

Easy as pie, right? Think again…one day we had decided to get together, something came up for me and I had to cancel; the next attempt was killed in its infancy by my daughter being sick for almost a week, and the one after that Abby was busy with events taking place at the store that day.

We set up yet another date for this past Tuesday, and FINALLY nothing got in the way – no suddenly-formed hurricanes, middle-of-the-night emergencies or other assorted obstacles; this time no hail or high water could stop me…I was going to Henderson.

It took me a little less than an hour to get there, and only a few seconds to find a parking spot. I walked into the store, and saw a lady sitting on a chair in front of the counter; never having met Abby before, I wasn’t sure if it was her. But, the surprises were only about to begin. Another face came into vision to greet us, and when I focused on the person the voice had come from, my own voice got stuck for a moment – standing in front of me, in flesh and bones, was the perfect incarnation of one of the characters in my book. I think my brain took a few moments to fully absorb the surprise of the moment, and before I knew it, I found myself participating into a conversation with Abby and the other lady in the store.

After the customer left, Abby took me and Morgan to a small sitting area in the back of the store, where we settled into comfortable chairs and started chatting. If she had just looked like Isabel the first moment I saw her, now she even sounded like her! Similar circumstances had taken her to North Carolina, and her wisdom was not of this world. I really believe that if my daughter hadn’t gotten hungry, I would have loved to stay there and talk to her for much longer. We compared experiences, talked about our families and traditions, of life in Louisiana and North Carolina, and ultimately, I felt an incredible connection with her that couldn’t be easily explained.

After I left, Morgan fell asleep in the car, so I had ample time to think as I drove. How strange was it that I would run into someone that so incredibly resembled someone else I had made up in my own mind? She wasn’t a mere character, but a real person with a real history, whose true life destiny was very much aligned with a fictional one. I couldn’t find the link, though my mind shot in all possible directions, desperately trying to make sense of something so irrationally delightful.

And so, I came to a conclusion…could it be that we “think up” the people we are going to meet because, though we haven’t met them yet, we already know them? Could it be that we think what will happen tomorrow already happened, and our minds just haven’t accepted it yet, thus making it only available as a thought?

No one can credit or discredit such a theory, because in reality, there is a lot about the spiritual and soul realms we still don’t understand. And, ultimately, I don’t have to understand this for it to be manifesting. All I need to know is that a warm, kind character has come to life; for that, I am very grateful.

Book Alert - Are You Ready for Simpler Living?

2010-06-23T03:12:00.001-04:00

Online or offline, we are besieged by more information and communication than our counterparts of previous generations could ever imagine. In the course of a single second, hundreds of years' worth of new information becomes available based on average human intake capacities. In other words, in the next second, more television and radio programming; more books, magazines, newspapers, and print publications; more journals, government reports, industry studies, newsletters, and fact sheets; and more advertisements, commercials, promotions, and sales pitches will be produced than anyone could intellectually ingest in the next hundred years. With each following second, the phenomenon repeats itself. On Youtube alone, thousands of hours of new video footage is added every day.

“Predictably, we've reached the stage in our socio-cultural evolution where the number of items competing for one's time and attention greatly outstrips anyone's ability to keep up. No president, prime minister, king or queen, noble laureate, head of world religion, head of a university, scientist, researcher, or guru of any sort has a lock on the future of world events and human endeavors," says Jeff Davidson. Davidson is a professional speaker and author of 56 books including his latest, Simpler Living: A Back to Basics Guide to Cleaning, Furnishing, Storing, De-cluttering, Streamlining, Organizing, and More (Skyhorse Publishing, distributed by Norton).

The bombardment has reached such epidemic levels that virtually every aspect of one's life is dominated by messages. From airport TV monitors to advertising on the wall above urinals in restrooms the spaces and places in our lives are now depositories for more messages and information to which we must attend. No arena in our professional or personal lives is unscathed. The National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health report No. 99-101, titled Stress at Work, reports that "The nature of work is changing at whirlwind speed. Perhaps now more than ever before, job stress poses a threat to the health of workers and, in turn, to the health organizations."

Buy an airline ticket and the federal regulations that accompany your ticket exceed 8,000 words, equivalent to two chapters of a novel. Purchase a new home and encounter a bewildering array of forms, documents, pledges, and assurances you must sign – double the number of fifteen years ago.

In autumn 1988, Davidson had his first glimmer of the coming era of complexity that now fully submerges us. "It dawned on me back then that geometric growth in population, the volume of new information generated each day, media growth in terms of technological capability and global coverage, the volume of paper generated even as electronic information capabilities began to accelerate, and the over-abundance of choices that confronted people in all aspects of their lives would lead to a future much like the one we are experiencing right now."

Davidson wrote about these developments, which he termed the “Five Mega- Realities", in his 1990 book Breathing Space: Living and Working at a Comfortable Pace in a Speed Up Society, which was revised in 2000 and again in 2007. "Information and communication overload is at the root of much of the stress and anxiety that we experience today," says Davidson. "Unfortunately, the typical person has little understanding of the larger forces at play. For people under age 30, this non-stop, 24x7 world is all they've ever known. For them, there never has been a quieter, slower pace to life. They cannot conceive of a world before ubiquitous cell phones, the Web, and cable television, let alone with less noise and about half the traffic."

Simpler Living is designed to give people a framework for gaining control of their lives. The first three chapters focus on how we arrived at this ultra-hectic pace of life. From chapter 4 on, the book takes a room-by-room and step-by-step approach to simplifying and reclaiming one's home, office, leisure activities, nutrition, and health.

Simpler Living offers more than 1,500 tips and thus serves as a reference book, rather than a book to be read cover-to-cover. "Whether it's your kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, den, bedroom, attic, garage, back porch, car, or any other space in your life, turn directly to that chapter to gain a bevy of ideas for achieving simplicity," says Davidson. The advice in Simpler Living has wide appeal. For example, the book includes six questions to ask yourself before buying something new. There are instructions for setting up a home office, a four-step process for curtailing paper clutter, strategies to entirely eliminate some chores, and, most vital, how to find the time to unwind.

The publisher of Simple Living took a novel approach to its production by offering it in a landscape format: is wider than taller and has a unique appeal to it, as both a reference book and a coffee table book, adorned with more than 950 full-color, breathtaking photographs. The driving idea behind the book is that it would appeal to readers of such long-standing and venerated publications such as Yankee Magazine, Better Home and Gardens, Reader's Digest, Family Circle, and Country Home, as well Money, Traditional Home, Allure, and Elle.

Davidson hopes that the real-world solutions contained in Simpler Living will enable people to end the "clutter, complexity, and chaos in their lives, and discover the peaceful, productive lifestyle that they deserve."

Note: Jeff Davidson is a NC author currently living in the Triangle.

United in Prayer -- Will You Join Us?

2010-06-22T03:48:00.007-04:00

Dr. Masaru Emoto is a scientist from Japan who has done research, and published information, about the characteristics of water. Among other things, his research revealed that water physically responds to emotions.

When we think of what’s happening in the Gulf, most of us feel overwhelmed and overcome with negative emotions, but while justified in that emotion, we may be of greater assistance to our planet and its life forms if we sincerely, powerfully and humbly send out our collective energy through the simple prayer Dr. Emoto, himself, has proposed. It doesn’t matter whom one prays to, all that matters is that healing, loving energy is sent out and focused on the Gulf.

We are not powerless. We are powerful. Our united energy, released by sending out this prayer daily...multiple times daily...can literally shift the balance of destruction that is taking place. We don't have to know how...we just have to recognize that the power of love is greater than any other power active in the Universe today.

"I send the energy of love and gratitude to the waters and all living creatures
in the Gulf of Mexico and its surroundings.
To the whales, dolphins, pelicans, fish, shellfish, planktons,
corals, algae ... to ALL living creatures ... I am sorry.
Please forgive me. Thank you.
I Love You."

What do we have to lose in trying?

(The information above was sent to me by a friend who’s a spiritual teacher. While I can’t vouch for the accuracy of the data reported, I really believe that this short, simple prayer holds a tremendous amount of power. My friend copied it on sticky notes and posted it in different areas of her home, to ensure she will repeat it several times a day.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PzASMa_Th10

GET HOOKED ON THE BOOK!

The Book of Obeah Is Finally in Stores!!!

2010-06-21T22:29:00.003-04:00

Finally!!!!!!! As many of you know, the past few years I have lived to see this day. Finding myself face to face with The Book of Obeah on a shelf, tagged and facing forward, in a Barnes & Noble store, made all the work of the past many months worth it.

Thank you so much for all the support, everybody! I don't know if I would have been able to hang on for the ride without you.

Many blessings,

Sandra

Drama, My Love...

2010-06-21T03:32:00.002-04:00

“I want to feel passion, I want to feel pain. I want to weep at the sound of your name. Come make me laugh, come make me cry…just make me feel alive” ~ Joey Lauren Adams

Sometimes I don’t think we realize how much we enjoy drama – even those of us who claim to denounce it completely. We love and fear it at the same time, mixing an intoxicating cocktail that speeds the heart and inebriates the mind. Even if many of us will never own up to it, we welcome drama in our lives, for even if it turns our lives upside down, it allows us to appreciate certain things we wouldn’t notice otherwise.

We live to experience thrills – a fast car, a heart-stopping ride at the fair, a good thriller on TV, a dangerous storm – because through it all we feel alive.

Love for drama is evident in everything that surrounds us, from the entertainment we choose, to the choices we make in life. Indeed living a life free of drama is possible, but it gets boring pretty fast. Staring at the crystal-clear water of a shallow pool is pleasant for a while, but it doesn’t take long before one craves the dangerous waves produced by a storm at sea.

Very few things create an electrical charge the way drama does. Through our connection with others we activate energetic extremes – positive and negative, both necessary to initiate a shock. We love some deeply and “hate” others with just as much passion; once the two charges meet, they create a current that keeps us electrified and in motion.

Drama is the earthly force that keeps us anchored to our human role. As unsettling as it is, it serves a purpose if taken in small doses, for without its powerful influence we would easily skip over many of the lessons our soul needs to learn. In so many ways, drama connects people on different levels.

Just as with any TV program, we have the power to end it just by switching the channel of our focus. And we never have to worry about losing the remote.

Want to see "The Book of Obeah" on the Silver Screen?

2010-06-14T05:47:00.007-04:00

This dream could come true, if you help vote for the video trailer. The video was recently entered into a short film contest sponsored by the Topanga Film Festival 2010 called Suitable for All Screens, and the two winners -- chosen by popular vote -- receive a production contract!

The potential to make amazing connections for The Book of Obeah and The Crossroads Series is simply incredible with this opportunity!

So, if you feel inclined, please, please, help make The Book of Obeah a winner.

Voting is simple. All you need to do is click on the link, then click on the video (you'll see The Book of Obeah cover). You will be asked to enter a username and your e-mail; as soon as you receive a password, you can go in and click on a star, to rate the video from 1 to 5 stars.

http://suitableforallscreens.com/

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT! It sure would be fun to see Melody Bennet and her journey on screen, wouldn't it?

Learn more about The Book of Obeah.

I will Miss You...

2010-06-11T06:17:00.003-04:00

“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.” ~Robert Southey

It’s hard to believe it has been two years already since Dena, my consulting editor, suggested I start a blog. Quite unsure of what I should even write about, I started posting twice a week on Blogspot, and for the most part I wrote about things that happened throughout my day. No biggie. A comment here, two there, and weeks continued to pass, until, on the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, I wrote a post and decided to publish it on a local news site. Given the topic and my out-of-the-box views, the post was quickly assaulted, and my presence online was sealed from that day on.

Following that first post, I started visiting the site more frequently and, soon enough, blogging became a daily appointment. It wasn’t long before I began to export my blog to other sites as well; to date, I post daily to about fifteen sites.

What I thought would be only online friendships evolved into some real life connections as well, something that to this day still blows my mind. Two years ago I was the first person who used to harshly judge meeting people online on the basis that those connections were not safe. Conditioned by an external perception of how dangerous an e-life could be, I, like many others, assumed that mostly predators lurked around cyber realities.

How wrong I was! Many of the people I have met during the last two years are wholesome and kind, giving and compassionate, but mostly, they are people just like me, wading through the waters of life and happy to connect with kindred spirits. Some are serious, some are jokesters, some are happy and some others sad, but as a whole, they have provided a huge cushion of support I felt comfortable to fall upon on days that weren’t quite so brisk.

Whether we have met in person or only virtually, I feel a connection with those I’ve been fortunate enough to meet and talk to on a daily basis. Chatting online has become such a fun part of my morning routine that I miss it terribly when I have to focus on certain projects that require my full attention.

One of those projects is at the door, so I will hardly be online at all next week. Coffee won’t be the same, and as I sit alone working, I will be wondering what everyone is talking about; the silver lining is that I know everyone is still there, and will continue to be there when I get back. That simple knowledge makes me feel very good. So, thank you for that, and know that even if I won’t be talking to you for a few days, you are a very special part of my life.

The Masks We Wear (Repost)

2010-06-10T06:22:00.003-04:00

Masks are one of the most remarkable manmade creations used in rituals throughout recorded history, used by our ancestors to form a bridge between themselves and the Divine. Though in modern times the mask has a negative connotation of disguise with the intent to deceive, the ancient world perceived masks as tools of revelation, a connection to invisible powers.

“Identity masks” are often worn to hide the vulnerable parts of ourselves, and most of them are molded in response to societal demands, parental suggestions and peer pressure. Most of us wear some sort of mask to introduce ourselves to the world. It is not done to deceive anybody; rather, it is an effort we make to ensure that we are accepted and loved by others. Many feel that they could not be accepted for who they truly are, so they slip the mask on. Sometimes they become so used to doing it, that they are unable themselves to differentiate who they truly are from who they believe people want them to be.

We constantly blame the world for not accepting us for who we are, yet we don’t fully accept ourselves. We would rather go on and be who we are not, rather than recognize that the standards we measure ourselves against are manmade and often based on others’ perceptions of good and bad. The person who lives inside of us may be scared, bruised, shy, but it is rarely bad. The need to hide behind a mask is self-imposed, and as such it can be eliminated.

If we take a glimpse of our true selves, who are we, really? Are we truly the person we are portraying? Or is that person someone our caregivers and societies wanted it to be? Do we really believe what we claim to believe? Do we really despise what we assert to despise? Or have we grown to believe we do just because it would make someone else happy and proud?

What about you? Who is the true self hidden behind your mask?

New Journey

2010-06-09T05:19:00.001-04:00

Today my son is leaving for Italy. The trip we thought would never arrive is finally here. The last few days flew by in a flurry of activity, and all the while, Michael’s excitement continued to grow.

Yesterday afternoon, as I closed his suitcase after putting in the last few items, I thought back about all the work of the past few days – clothes shopping, haircut, last minute gifts to send to grandparents – and all the surface stress that went with it. We lost keys, missed swim practice sessions for my daughter, forgot items we needed, and we constantly felt we were running out of time.

Preparing for a long trip is not too different than preparing for a new chapter in life – you work, work, and then work some more, and you feel that you are never going to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Then, suddenly, things seem to slow down, activity ceases, and the rush of adrenaline settles. Everything – or mostly everything, at least – is in place and it is time to recharge as we wait for changes to come.

Last night felt like that. We had been running around for so long that our pace became naturally accelerated. Slowing down felt strange and gave us a feeling of leaving something undone; yet, all the ties were pulled and secured in a knot. Once all the hard work was in place, it was time to take a step back, assess what we have accomplished and finally relax.

We grilled steaks – one of Michael’s favorite meals – and sat around on the deck talking about all the cool things he’s going to see and all the fun he is going to have. Today is going to be a long day for him, but a very exciting one all the same. He is flying to New York, and then directly to Italy, all alone for the first time. For him, this is a trial by fear, but one he is eager to take. Overcoming his fears of traveling alone feels, to him, like a badge of honor he will finally get to wear, one which will identify him as a young adult. And, the prize at the end of the race is way sweet – with grandparents eager to embrace the role of “serial spoilers” Michael already knows he is in for the treat of his life.

We typically become stressed whenever we prepare for something new, afraid to mess it up somehow, or to forget something important. Our energy gets sucked away, much like ocean water receding into the depths only to come back tenfold in the impetus of a large wave. It’s almost as if the energy we seem to throw around is needed to pack the punch before whatever is coming can make its grand entrance into our lives.

I try to think of this any time my own life seems to slow down, or all my hard work appears scattered to the four winds. None of the energy is really lost or useless, and it will all pay off in the end. For Michael pay day is today.

“The High-heeled Guide to Enlightenment" by Alice Grist -- A Book Review

2010-06-08T05:49:00.004-04:00

“The High-heeled Guide to Enlightenment is the must have book for feisty females who are looking to connect to something other than their Internet provider!”

When I first read this sentence, my curiosity stood on full alert, and I couldn’t wait to find out what this book was all about. I ordered the title on Amazon, and just a few days later I had the opportunity to find out for myself.

In The High Heeled Guide to Enlightenment Alice Grist takes the reader on a journey across the board of alternate spiritualities. Rather than delving into one practice alone, the reader is skillfully led to widen spiritual boundaries through the exploration of different practices, ranging from Wicca to Buddhism, Shamanism, Kabbalah and Feng-Shui.

Rather than being a main course dish, The High Heeled Guide to Enlightenment is a sampler platter offering something for everybody. In fact, while I am not a follower of many of the practices discussed, I found their descriptions fascinating and informative. I particularly enjoyed one chapter on coincidences and patterns, and once I finished reading it I found that some of the concepts were expressed in such a fresh, new voice that couldn’t fail to charm anyone gifted with an open mind.

The dynamic writing style and the unique approach employed by the author make this book a delightful read for anyone willing to expand one’s knowledge and personal boundaries. For the spiritual beginner, it is a must-read guide necessary to learn more about, and differentiate, the different paths; for those already intimately connected with some of the paths, The High heeled Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment is a great reference book aimed at shedding light on some of the roads less traveled.

A wonderful door opener for anyone ready to embark on their own journey toward enlightenment.

Tapping In

2010-06-07T04:44:00.004-04:00

“Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.” - Marie Curie

‘What are you most afraid of?’ When I ask this question, I am always amazed by the replies I receive. Generally, people are afraid of being hurt, of being alone and, mostly, of lack of any type. Yet, none of the things many are afraid of are ever really dangerous or permanent, but only largely misunderstood.

It is very easy to be led by collective hysteria and conditioning, though we rarely acknowledge such an influence on our individual minds. Fear of lack is a great example, and it is often exacerbated by the constant outpour of negative media – unless we can measure up to impossible standards of love, wealth and success, we feel we will not be able to keep up with the race and we will soon wither and die, forgotten and left behind by the rest of humanity.

There is however, a different level of fear created by the ego, whose task is to keep us disconnected from our center of power. The main job of our ego – since it is intimately connected with our body and thus with existence in this dimension – is to keep our focus on the preservation of the body itself; long considered the temple of our soul, our body IS the vehicle to remain on earth as long as we can, so that our spirit can assimilate what it came to learn; in these terms, it’s easy to understand why one part of ourselves is determined to make sure we continue to physically thrive.

Strangely enough two of the most popular phobias are ophidiophobia and arachnophobia, the first one being a paralyzing fear of snakes and the latter a fear of spiders. To understand these fears better, let’s take a look at the creatures involved.

Snakes can be venomous, we all agree to that, but they are also very shy animals who rarely attack unless they are provoked. Snakes can also be garden friends, for they greatly reduce the population of rats and other pests that could really pose a much more ominous threat to our health and lifestyle. Since the advent of Christianity, snakes have suffered a really bad reputation, and they have been unfairly associated to a demonic essence. Interestingly, before patriarchal religions took over, snakes were worshipped because of their power of renewal (shedding of the skin) and continuity of all things. In esoteric images, a snake biting its own tail represents the world, also known as the cosmic egg, and it embraces the concept of infinity defined by a continuous circle. The snake is also associated to Kundalini energy, a type of energy usually dormant and ‘coiled’ in our sacral area near the tail bone (don’t you find it interesting that the area itself has a name which recalls the word ‘sacred’?) The gradual awakening of Kundalini energy is the ultimate goal of Kundalini Yoga, an ancient eastern practice; through Kundalini Yoga, the seven energy centers, also known as chakras, are opened, thus allowing the life energy to flow upward along the spine.

Spiders are also creatures most of us would like to see wiped from the face of the earth, but even they are not particularly harmful; never mind the fact that they are small and probably more terrified of us than we are of them. Spiders are unpredictable, powerful and necessary to keep other pests down to an acceptable level. Like snakes, spiders have also received the wrong end of the stick – they are stuck being a symbol of all things creepy, of Halloween, of witches and demons, of darkness and danger. But, spiders are also a symbol of creativity. They build amazing natural designs which are a mystery and miracle of their own. To us, a web appears as a net of silky threads, but when bathed in light it appears as a flower to insects.

When I was younger I was terrified of spiders. I still am not a huge fan of them, but in time I have learned to appreciate not only their role in nature, but also their beauty. Oddly, my fear of them began to decrease when I tapped into my own center of power. As I grew stronger within myself, and more creative, the fear subsided. I don’t think I would own a spider as a pet – that’s for another lifetime – but I can now sit beside one without jumping out of my skin.

So here it is – some of the things we are most afraid of are those connected to our own inner power, for as long as we are afraid to tap in the deeper recesses of ourselves we can continue to serve our ego and fulfill the illusion that we are our bodies.

Everything has a nature of duality, and inside each of us exist opposing forces constantly at battle with one another. They don’t need to be. Once we accept that both are unknowingly serving the same purpose, rising above our fears will be easier than we ever anticipated. Finding beauty in that which we’ve always deemed scary or ugly can be an interesting challenge, but it will be one that will deliver us to a greater awareness as we journey to discover the ultimate truth.

The Magic of an Ordinary Day

2010-06-06T07:08:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a fun day. It started around seven in the morning when I woke up in a house full of sleeping kids. I went downstairs, started the coffee pot, and went outside on the porch to give the flowers a little drink while I waited for my own cup of miracles to finish brewing. It was an amazing morning – already steamy so early on, the day announced itself as yet another scorcher.

There is something quite magical about a summer – or late spring – morning. Birds fill the air with an excited song of promise and the nocturnal moisture is still lingering in tiny droplets bathing every leaf and strand of grass, as if they just came back from a relaxing swim. I sat on one of the porch rockers for a few minutes and deeply inhaled the intoxicating scent of grass and budding life, before an even more bewitching aroma penetrated the air and made everything pale in comparison – coffee was ready.

The rest of the morning passed quite uneventfully, aside from my daughter running off like a thief in the night with the magic marker I was using to create a poster for the book signing, and then forgetting where she had left it when her 5-year-old attention was captured by some other random thing. Funny as it is, while I was looking for the marker I found an old necklace I had misplaced some time ago. I never found the marker and I came to the conclusion that either my house swallows and spits items at its own liking, or my daughter fits her enchantress name and she figured out how to make things shift in and out of reality at will. I am confident that with more practice one of these days she’ll learn how to shift a sack of money INTO reality.

Hours flew by and it was suddenly time for morning to trade shifts with afternoon, which also meant it was time to leave for the signing. With a budding knight in shining armor in tow, I left my screaming daughter home with dad – that girl might never learn how to shimmer money into reality but she will, one day, win a Grammy for best dramatic performance – and Michael and I got on the road.

When we arrived, the owner of the tea shop informed me they had been pretty slow but I unpacked anyway while my son went next door to get two bottles of water ($4 for two bottles of water! You’d think the kid had bought Zeus’ water of life and knowledge!)

The signing proved to be slow as well, but we had a great time. A handful of friends stopped by and kept us company; I sold a few books and raised the first $15 going toward Hooked on the Book, a newly-launched project to raise funds for the Gulf.

After wrapping up, we went to Piccola Italia with two of the friends who stopped by. We sat at one of their outside tables and chatted away. The food was great, the wine superb, the company wonderful, and we even got to meet the owner of the joint, a jolly little Italian Man with a heavy accent and hands magically designed to make good pizza. What more can a soul desire?

The rest of the evening was very laid back and even my magic marker reappeared, now that I no longer needed it. When the kids went to bed I thought back about the day and couldn’t help smiling. There are challenging things happening in the world, often in our very own backyard, yet every day can be a great one if we stop and appreciate the small things. Through the eyes of a pessimist yesterday could have been a poor day – a necessary tool was lost, the signing was slow and the air outside was as hot and humid as soup, but if one really focused on reality, all those things had another, much happier side – I found a long-lost item, the lack of a large crowd gave me the opportunity of getting to know the people who had come a little better, and the warm weather allowed us the chance to sit outside and crown the day with a good meal and pleasant conversation.

Life is what you make it, and each experience can be as tart as lemon or sweet as candy. Personally, I choose to see it as a box of my favorite chocolates.

The Interview

2010-06-04T03:13:00.001-04:00

Some things in life can simultaneously be exciting and scary. That’s how I felt yesterday as I prepared to participate in an hour-long radio interview. I tuned in a little earlier than my scheduled time to hear the previous guest and to get a feel of the conversation; after listening for a moment, my heart sank. Many questions and answers gravitated around current events and political issues, something I was completely unprepared for.

For a moment I was overtaken by sheer panic – what would the host ask me? Being almost entirely an apolitical creature, the mere thought of talking about such issues tied my tongue worse than a tablespoon of peanut butter. I watched the clock on my stove like a man awaiting his final moments, almost dreading to hear the phone ring. When it did, my heart skipped a beat, but suddenly the words a friend had shared with me just a few days before popped into my head. “If you get nervous,” she said, “speak your heart, not your mind.”

I could do that much. Her words soothed me and made me feel more confident, and I picked up the phone. The whole interview turned into a nice chat, and before I knew it I looked at the clock again and noticed that a whole hour had gone by. Somehow, I had lived through the interview and I had fun with it; once I started talking and answering questions the words formulated in my head with no particular effort.

After I hung up the phone I thought back about the whole experience. All the anxiety I had felt before the interview evaporated like droplets of dew in July sunshine the moment I decided that I was going to let my heart speak. Our inner self knows much more than we give it credit for, but on most occasions it selflessly sits back and allows the more arrogant and self-doubting rational mind to take center stage. The inner self has nothing to prove and will not argue meaningless points, but when all is said and done, its wisdom greatly surpasses the computerized knowledge of the rational mind. All of us have tremendous power if we tap into that part of ourselves which is not limited by ego and arrogance. We don’t need to know everything about a topic to relate how we feel about it. Another friend left me a comment on a post once: “Knowledge is being aware that a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it into a fruit salad.”

Ultimately, we can know the “ins” and “outs” of something, and spit out facts like an angry llama, but very few facts are powerful enough to replace the application of common sense and inner truth. Technicalities do not make one smarter, they only make one well-read.

In the end, my friend was right. When I retired the mind and enlisted the soul, all obstacles, doubts and limitations checked out, and inner knowing stepped in. Did I give all the right answers? Maybe; or maybe not. But, in the end, the conversation was pleasant and I got to discuss my beliefs, my books, healing techniques and spiritual matters.

Yesterday afternoon I found myself in front of a new door; it was great to discover that the key to it was already in my possession.

The Coffee Stain

2010-06-02T03:50:00.003-04:00

“Shyness has a strange element of narcissism. A Belief that how we look, how we perform, is truly important to other people.” ~ Andre Dubus

Growing up next door to one of the fashion capitals of the world, appearances used to be very important to me. I clearly remember that, as a teenager, I would not even go outside unless I had make-up on, or wore high-heels. Then life caught up with me, and over time I came to accept that some of these things really don’t matter.

Last week, I stopped by a local Target while on my way home from running other errands; since I had rushed most of the morning, I stopped at the adjoining Starbucks to get a cup of coffee I could sip while picking up groceries and new goggles for my daughter. I hadn’t even left the coffee shop when I felt something very hot splash over my leg – the lid on the coffee cup wasn’t completely closed, and some of the steaming beverage had spilled right on my pants!

Mumbling the whole way there, I went to the ladies’ room to see if I could, somehow, repair some of the damage. The stain had by now spread and there was little I could do; I wet a paper towel and vigorously rubbed the stain, hoping to magically see it disappear, but when I stopped the stain was still there; if that wasn’t enough, it was now strangely decorated with dozens of tiny paper specks that had attached to the wet fabric.

Great! What was I to do now? I couldn’t waste the precious hour of child-free shopping, yet I was uncomfortable walking around the store with wet, stained clothes. It was time to make a decision. And that’s when I looked around. Everyone was absorbed in what they were doing, and barely making eye contact with strangers. Were these people really going to snap out of their own reveries and routines to acknowledge the fact that my pants were stained? Hardly.

The decision was made – I wasn’t going to let a stain redirect the course of my day. I marched toward the aisles and proceeded to look for the things I needed. By the time I got back to my car, I assessed the situation: not a single person had looked at me twice, or even hinted at the fact they had noticed anything strange.

We invest so much energy worrying about what others are going to think that we often lose sight of the fact that most people don’t really notice the same things we do. And, even if they do notice, what are the chances that they will continue thinking about what they saw for more than a few seconds? Once we are out of their sight, their awareness of us and our ‘unforgivable’ problem is gone and forgotten; if they met us the next day, they would likely not even remember they had seen us before.

Similarly, I use to get irritated at my husband when he acted foolishly inside the grocery store; did I think that people were going to devote more than a tiny fragment of their time to evaluate his performance? Did I actually entertain the thought that they were taking that one experience home to be discussed over dinner with their families?

These days I no longer worry about appearances, just as much as I no longer feel awkward expressing my thoughts to others. Growing older doesn’t only bring upon gifts of wrinkles and gray hair, but it also allows one to realize that self-consciousness is often synonymous with personal arrogance.

"Silent Voices of the Soul," by Robin Leigh Vella -- A Book Review

2010-06-01T04:23:00.005-04:00

I love to listen to stories; I always have. And when the stories are true, and told in a melodic voice which soothes the spirit, I cannot help but being swept away to a magical place. That’s how I felt when I immersed myself in Silent Voices of The Soul by Robin Leigh Vella.

The cover itself is very interesting – depicting a potted plant and energy floating above the flowers, the design is pleasant to the eye and thought-provoking in the least – but I must admit that when I first picked up the book I wasn’t prepared for the powerful lessons I found once I started reading.

Being an avid reader of self-improvement fiction and nonfiction, I am painfully accustomed to the fact that many authors use big words and ethereal descriptions purely for shock value, and they rarely realize that many readers feel excluded from what they perceive as a level of enlightenment too high for most of us to attain. Not Robin leigh Vella. Reading her book was similar to sitting down on a cozy couch in someone’s living room and listening to a friend while she led a casual conversation about her daily experiences. Employing a choice of words which is simple enough to be grasped by the occasional reader, and powerful enough to trigger awareness in the spiritual adept, Silent Voices of The Soul is a gift of gentle and embracing energy aimed at delicately nudging readers toward opening up to hear their inner voice at their own unique pace.

I enjoyed Silent Voices of The Soul immensely, and I feel that I will read it again and again, whenever I’ll need a reminder that answers are never too far from where we are. I have no doubt that this book’s empowering vibrations will continue to be carried by the winds of time for years to come.

http://www.robinleighvella.com/

A Tiny Cat Named Chevy

2010-05-31T07:29:00.004-04:00

This is the story of a tiny cat named Chevy. Chevy’s life began about eight weeks ago under circumstances none of us are aware of, and her arrival triggered a change of heart for Bill, my brother-in-law.

Bill has never been a “cat person” and has voiced his opinions about the little bundles of fur many times. Sadly, three weeks ago, he had to say good-bye to Cocoa, his 17-year-old dog and long-time friend, when Cocoa left this earth following a long and pained illness. The day after Cocoa’s death, Bill went to work – he and my husband own a car-repair shop – and though his heart was heavy, he tried to focus on the tasks at hand.

Early in the morning, one customer brought a car in to get his oil changed and the moment the mechanic got close to the vehicle, he heard a strange sound. He quickly opened the hood and out jumped a tiny ball of fur, straight from the engine onto the chest of poor Bill who had walked over after the mechanic said he heard a sound.

The kitten was scared and hurt – his paw pads had been burned by the hot engine, but he seemed okay otherwise. Bill took him to the office and calmed him down, offered him a little water to drink and called a veterinary hospital nearby. Upon examination, the vet determined that Chevy – several customers that morning chipped to find the right name for her – was indeed okay and that her paws would heal just fine. She was only a few ounces in body weight but her spirit was that of a survivor; she eagerly sucked milk from a bottle for a couple of weeks until she could be weaned to kitten food.

And the sweetest part of the story? Chevy became Bill’s cat. He brought her home with him that day, to the joy of his fiancée and stepdaughter who had secretly wanted a cat for a while but didn’t voice their wishes in light of his dislike.

Last night I went over their house for a cook-out and got to see for myself the power this tiny being has over a big man hung up on his idea that he didn’t like cats. He took us to his bedroom where the kitten was safely playing away from people and dogs, he picked her up and kissed her, while everyone around was melting a little all over the bedroom floor.

Little Chevy had a rough start, and she had probably crawled inside the car engine to seek warmth during a night when temperatures got to be too cool for her tiny body; we have no information regarding the whereabouts of her mother or her siblings, but we know the trip she took could have been her last. Somehow she hung on, and through her temporary struggle she secured a nice, comfortable life for herself. She was hurt and scared, hungry and void of hope, but in a greater design, her fate was drawn in bright colors.

And, she was able to give a little something back. By entering Bill’s life at that particular time, her presence filled a bit of the void left from Cocoa’s departure. Chevy and Bill helped each other, though neither realized it at the time. For those of us who were fortunate enough to witness this situation unfold, it was the confirmation that miracles still happen even when we feel there is no hope left at all.

http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

The Things We Take for Granted

2010-05-28T04:46:00.005-04:00

I take things for granted. Most of us do, to some extent. I thought about this last night, as I sat at the kitchen table at ten o’ clock at night, helping my oldest son with a school assignment.

Now, my son Stephen is a very good kid – sweet, compassionate, and always happy – but he has a maddening quality: he is a procrastinator. If he has a project due, it is left for the last hour of the last day before it is due, leading, of course, to a mad dash and panic to get it done on time. I have tried to explain to him many times how he should pace himself, and try to set up a schedule to get things done, all to no avail. He means well, he really does, but he can’t help being a social butterfly and a bouncing ball when it comes to activities.

So, here I was last night, secretly boiling inside and pouting about the fact that another evening of mine was sacrificed to his social life; then a light went off.

I thought about all those kids who are sullen and withdrawn, isolated and unable to connect to others. I thought about the meaning of being a kid, and the demands society has on kids these days. I also thought about parents who have children with illnesses, the ones whose sons and daughters are confined in a hospital room, void of energy and preoccupied with issues they shouldn’t have to worry about at their young age. Those parents would give all their possessions to have a bubbly, smiling child, and their hearts would warm quickly if they could detect a small mischievous twinkle in their own kids’ eyes.

That’s when I realized how fortunate I am. My kids are not perfect – none of us is – but they are good, normal kids, who have been lucky enough to be born in a life void of hardship, in which they can live their childhood years worry-free, thinking about sports, games and girls.

I looked up from the paper and glimpsed at Stephen. He felt that I was staring at him, so he looked back at me a little puzzled. When he saw I was smiling he grinned and his eyes sparkled. I took his hand and told him I love him. We finished the assignment sooner than I thought. Stephen stood up and was ready to bolt out the room to go play with his brother, but before he got to the stairs he turned around and came to give me a hug. “Thank you for helping me, Mom” he breathed in my neck. “I love you”. Then he was gone.

I was no longer pouting. Suddenly, I was really excited about the future he, his brother and sister have ahead. They may not be the poster children for perfection, but they have good values, good thoughts, good hearts, and, most of all, they are happy children. The rest will come with time.

A Dollar a Day (repost)

2010-05-27T04:54:00.002-04:00

“This is the beginning of a New Day. I am given this day to use as I will. I can waste it or grow in its light and be of service to others. But what I do with this day is important because I have exchanged a day of my life for it. When tomorrow comes, today will be gone forever. I hope I will not regret the price I paid for it.” ~ Author unknown

Let’s imagine that at the beginning of our lives someone gave us a limited amount of money – a dollar bill for each day we are alive - and told us that we can use the sum we are given to buy joy, pain, anger or peace. Our purchase cannot be returned, and whatever we buy with it we have to keep. We know that if our money is invested properly it might earn us a few extra bucks, while if it is spent unwisely, our account will dry up prematurely due to the penalties we have to pay. With that type of awareness, how would you spend your daily dollar?

Research has repeatedly shown that people who live a simple and peaceful life have longer life spans, especially if they sweeten the deal with faith and service to others. Each time we smile to a stranger, indulge in an act of random kindness, or accept the rocks that life throws as an opportunity to learn how to catch and stay in shape, we have used our daily dollar wisely.

If, on the contrary, we invest our energy in a fight against life, and allow anger, greed and fear to absorb our time and minds, we have merely taken our daily dollar and left it outside to be swept away by the wind. No matter how upset we get once we realize our mistake, the dollar is gone. So, should we put the rest of our money down on the same table, and leave it to be swept away as well while we run around madly searching for the first bill? By doing so, all our money will soon be gone and no amount of regret or foot-stomping will bring it back.

The first dollars were taken away by a combination of an unmerciful wind and personal naiveté, but choosing to put the rest of our livelihood out to be dispersed by the same currents is self-destructive and irresponsible at best. Rather than wasting more dollars trying to rectify mistakes of the past, it would be best if we focused on not making the same mistakes again in the future.

Go out today, and use your daily dollar wisely. By the time the setting sun pulls a curtain on this day, you should feel that what you bought is worth the price you paid for it.

Money doesn’t grow on trees…life doesn’t either.

Our Current State of Affairs -- Reality or Illusion?

2010-05-26T05:18:00.002-04:00

Our world is going through a hard shift. On that, I believe, everyone is likely to agree. Not only does it seem that our planet is being traumatized by increasingly frequent disasters, but also the people inhabiting it are struggling to just make it to the next day. All one has to do is open any newspaper, or listen to any random newscast – conflicts are on the rise, the economy is at its lowest since the depression of ’29, and tension is growing in many parts of the world. It is not uncommon to hear a collective sense of panic in the voices of the people, and to detect a quickly-spreading sense of doom in the very air that we breathe.

So, what’s happening to our old world? Are the prophets of doom right, and are our days counted? Has evil in our world reached such levels that it is no longer manageable? Or is it possible that we, as individual pieces of the greater puzzle, are making mountains out of mole hills?

Our world is indeed changing, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We tend to be extremely defensive when it comes to change, and cling to the ways of the past as the answer to dealing with fears for our future, but in reality everything must continue changing, even us. Our bodies and minds change every year, every day, every single minute we move through life, and as these changes take place, we become fearful; not necessarily because changes can bring upon anything unpleasant, but because change and the passage of time necessary for changes to take place are related to our mortality. Change is not the evil many believe it to be, but rather it is a necessary process of renewal which runs right along the path of evolution of body and spirit.

Clinging to the past is more common than many bother to acknowledge. We perceive old music as more melodious, old movies seem better directed and acted out, old ways of life appear more wholesome and void of hardship. In reality, the past was not any easier than today is. Our grandparents looked at the new generations of the forties and fifties with the same apprehension that our parents exhibited when glimpsing at the ways of their children, us. Now we are doing the same with our children, and unless we come to grips that change is a good thing, our children will do the same with their own.

So, has a world without hardship ever existed? We can fool ourselves by thinking that yesterday was filled with roses and pink unicorns, but if we open our eyes to the cold, hard facts of reality, we’ll see that our history was saturated with injustice and wars, fear and famine, suffering and illness, probably to an even greater extent than we can identify in our present days. Illness itself is not an invention of progress. In fact, people used to get sick and die much more in the past than they do today. With the advent of modern medicine, improved technology and better education, we have been able to conquer milestones once thought impossible to even be considered.

Crime seems rampant, but is it really? I can think back to a time not too long ago in our history when people could murder someone without even being held accountable for their actions. Robberies and crimes of passion or abuse have always existed. Back then, people just didn’t know about anything that happened to others and only were concerned with all that was taking place in their immediate circles. If a tsunami hit Indonesia two hundred years ago, people didn’t know about it in Europe – not because it wasn’t happening, but because the communication between different countries was not in place. So, it seems that all these changes people fear are nothing more than regular happenings just displayed for the eyes of a larger crowd. There are, however, things that are shifting, and it is up to us to prepare for their arrival.

The last two thousand years was the age of religions and patriarchal institutions. Within this time window, Jesus, Buddha and Mohammed were born, and initiated an incredible shift of consciousness on our planet with their teachings. Patriarchal structures replaced the fluid thinking of the previous ages, and they served the purpose of teaching the world self-discipline and the importance of using the benefits brought along by the conscious mind. The age is nearing its end, and in the last few decades it has become increasingly apparent that our world is once again preparing to shift toward the heart center and toward feminine energy. In our lifetimes we will witness the fall of patriarchal empires and all they have come to stand for. The economic crash of 2008 is only the first sign of what’s to come.

Our world is not dying, and no world-wide catastrophe is lurking in the shadows, but our realities are changing, and preparing for a shift of consciousness which will affect us as a whole. We could sit here and wonder what exactly will happen, but nobody really has that answer; and really, wasting our energies on forecasting good or bad will not change the impact of what’s coming on our realities. Our children are ready for the shift; the increasingly apparent new “attitude” our youth is expressing is not a symptom of their downfall but a manifestation of the new type of energy necessary to welcome the change from being mind-centered to being heart-centered.

What can we do, as individuals, to prepare for this shift of energies and not be swept away in the process of transition?

First of all, we must learn to let go of what no longer serves us. Fear tactics, guilt, and isolations are the ways of the fathers, and they will no longer work in our new world. We must learn to reconnect to one another and to see the divine into each manifestation around us. Some of this process is already taking place as people are trying to keep their heads above the water during the economic disaster which has befallen our communities. Families are coming together, friends are reconnecting and helping one another, necessities are shared, and in light of greater evils, some of our differences are being overlooked. Many wounds are also coming to the surface and are being healed below the skin of immediate awareness. Racism, superiority of one life form over another, and greed are being exposed through conflicts that have the healing power of uncovering old wounds so that they can be cleansed. Conflict itself is not an evil but a savior, because it is through conflicts that we step out of viscous waters to fight, and we detach from complacency and acceptance of unnecessary pain.

Our world is changing, just has it has for ages unrecorded. Our current times are not evil but they are in need of spring cleaning. Although apparently the scale has shifted its needle toward the illusion of negativity, the only thing that’s nearing its end is the age of the fathers. Balance is at close proximity, and the best way to be a part of it is simply to acknowledge the fact that we are not walking this path alone but we are all holding onto the same rope leading us to the top.

Delicious Expectation

2010-05-25T05:19:00.002-04:00

"The pleasure of expecting enjoyment is often greater than that of obtaining it, and the completion of almost every wish is found a disappointment." ~ Samuel Johnson

As we were driving home last night, my son raised his eyes to the lottery billboard and whistled when he saw the staggering jackpot amount. "How much money do you think that is, Mom?" he asked with childlike curiosity. "Too much", I replied. "Yes," Michael interjected, "after winning a sum like that, one is set for life. His children and grandchildren will be, too. "

When he said that, the first image that popped in my head was that of a group of dysfunctional, unhappy individuals, so I shared my thought with my son. He agreed with me, and said that he doesn’t even enjoy stuff that much, unless he has saved up for it.

Our conversation led me to think back about my childhood years, when the mere thought of surprises on the way was enough to fill me with excitement and expectation. I loved Christmas eve as a child; that magical, thrilling time when one’s head filled with expectations and the heart was ripe with hopeful wishes. As excruciating as it was, waiting for the big day was painfully delicious. I still remember looking in awe at the pretty packages under the tree, and fantasizing about the content.

Then Christmas day came. We were happy, the tree was assaulted, the gifts opened, and the house was filled with cheerful thoughts and good wishes; yet, something was also a bit sad – another year had to pass before another Christmas. Though they were usually what we had petitioned for, the joy at seeing the actual gifts paled in comparison to the feeling of absolute wonder from the day before.

We often feel that we should expedite events in our lives, but we sadly forget to notice that the best part of achieving anything is indeed the expectation of receiving the blessing. If we take time to listen within, our energy in those moments is fueled by pure hope; if we could bottle up our excitement, and save it for a rainy day, life would be much simpler and enjoyable.

When looking ahead, the final destination is only one of the blessings of the journey; the rest of it – including expectations – is the part we must truly cherish and be thankful for. Disappointment can be a crash to the ego, but it can also open the door to creativity and motivate one to reach a lot further.

"Breaking Into Soul" -- A Book Review

2010-05-24T02:22:00.003-04:00

Book Review: Breaking Into Soul, by Tonya Scott Wyandon

Blossom Sterling is a young girl living in the Deep South. At first glimpse, her life appears ordinary and her story typical of girls her own age, but Blossom is different – since a very young age, she has experienced the gift of sight.

Her higher sensitivity and sense of compassion propel Blossom toward connecting with other young girls who are not as fortunate as she is, and encourage her to open her heart to them in an attempt to make them feel included and loved despite their unique backgrounds. Her closest friend, Tina, the daughter of a single, over-worked, and overwhelmed mother, is often shunned by other children, but Blossom makes it her mission to reach out to her, and to ensure Tina is kept safe and happy. It is in part because of her relationship with Tina that Blossom’s inner growth is expedited.

Tina is not the only outcast Blossom reaches out to – during a visit to her grandparents in Bayou Sara, Blossom meets Soul, a young Native-American girl of approximately her age. Through Soul’s words, Blossom is thrust into a world so far unknown to her, and her perception is greatly enriched by this unlikely connection. Soon, Blossom and Soul find that no matter what their obvious differences are, a deeper part of their beings is connected by a very special gift.

Breaking into Soul is a priceless document of life in the south, and it leads the reader to explore thought-provoking concepts processed through the eyes and mind of a young girl caught in the midst of socio-cultural differences. The references to Native-American traditions are detailed and fascinating, and I feel I have walked away from the story with a greater understanding of a culture I wasn’t too familiar with.

International Book Award Winner!

2010-05-19T08:03:00.002-04:00

I found this out last night, and maybe I shouldn't even say anything, since results won't be announced until next week at Book Expo of America in NYC, but I am so excited I think I will fly away if I don't share...

The Book of Obeah won the International Book Award in the multicultural fiction category!!!

And, if I wasn't already happy enough, I found out Housekeeping for the Soul was a finalist in the nonfiction inspirational category!

I am SO happy right now, I could scream!!! I just had to share...:-)

Weekend Delights

2010-05-17T03:37:00.002-04:00

The past weekend has been an interesting and inspiring one to say the least. The magic started on Friday evening, when I went with my son to an art show in Wake Forest where my friend Pam’s paintings are displayed.

It was a lovely evening – we enjoyed browsing around the gallery, and were amazed by some of the talent; after a while, we just sat outside, drinking in the warm air and engaging in a fun conversation. When our friends left, my son and I took a walk on White Street, and were delighted to listen to a band playing outdoors as we were strolling along.

Shortly after, we went back to our car and headed back to Raleigh. As I drove, I could feel my car responding differently, and I made a mental note to bring it in to get checked on Monday; but, when I got into Raleigh – thankfully not too far from home – I began to hear a strange sound, so I turned off the radio and opened the window to see if what we heard was coming from my car or from a different one riding nearby. It was indeed mine, and all it took was for my son to slightly peek his head out before he said: “Uh oh, Mom, you have a flat tire.”

It wasn’t just flat…the poor thing had miserably blown, and the rim was painfully riding over it. I slowed down, and got into my left lane, trying my best to get out of Capital Boulevard before things got worse. I drove a little longer, and pulled into a nearby neighborhood; once I was sure we were away from heavy traffic, I stopped the car and we got out to inspect the damage. There was no way I could continue driving, so I got my cell phone and tried to call home. No signal! I walked little ways down the street, hoping to get a sign of life, and all I got was a big, fat nothing. I had two choices – Michael and I could walk home, since we weren’t too far and it was a pleasant evening, or we could knock on someone’s door, which, being ten-o-clock at night was definitely not my first choice. Right at that moment, I saw something moving, and to my relief, I saw a man coming out of his house to walk the dog. I asked him if I could possibly use his phone, and explained the situation. He handed me the phone, and even offered to change my tire; I deeply appreciated his offer, but gently declined, not wanting to put him out even more than I already had. I got a hold of my husband, and within ten minutes he was there. The tire was too damaged to fix in the dark, so we decided to leave the car there and go back for it the next day.

When I got in the car, my little daughter was waiting in the backseat; she smiled and handed me a little homemade gift she hurriedly prepared before leaving the house to cheer me up. Suddenly, the beauty of it all washed over me unexpectedly. I had a wonderful evening, and because of a small inconvenience I was able to top it off with kindness from a perfect stranger, and awareness that, no matter what, someone is there for me to call upon in a time of need. And all along, even while we were waiting for my husband to arrive, Michael and I enjoyed our time – we pulled down the windows and quietly talked. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t raining, and we were happy to have a little extra time to chat. Strangely, what could have been an unwelcome situation turned into an inspiring and fun adventure.

If that wasn’t enough, when we got home we received a phone call from an old army buddy my husband met while serving in Italy. He was coming through Raleigh on business, and wondered if he could come by to see us. He arrived Saturday morning, and spent the day at my husband’s shop with him; in the evening, we sat on the deck, grilled steaks, and reminisced about those wonderful days of a summer long ago, when we all met.

What a magical weekend it was, and how unexpected! That’s how life works sometimes…a delicious surprise, one day at a time. And occasionally it might all even start with a tire blow-out.

Side note: I will not be online much this week, as I am trying to help my editor prepare the novel for digital upload, so there won’t be any posts published for a few days. “See” you all when I get back!

A Seed in the Wind

2010-05-14T04:27:00.004-04:00

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there" and it will move. Nothing will be impossible to you." – Matthew 17:20

As we move through hard times, it is quite challenging to remain true to one’s faith and to keep a positive outlook. Many proudly state their beliefs of a Higher Power taking care of things, but in reality few have the type of faith that will keep their heads above the waters of anxiety. True faith is not in hoping that we will be okay, but in believing it with every cell of our being while letting go of the illusion of control we cling to, regardless of the resistance we meet in our daily lives.

After the tsunami in Indonesia, I remember watching an interview with a girl who had been picked up and swept away by the tidal wave from her hotel room. She explained that at first she had panicked and had tried to grasp anything she could; once she realized there was nothing she could do to win against the amazing power of the water, she had let herself go without fighting, ready to accept whatever was to come, knowing that she was going to be alright. Once she stopped fighting, after a few bumps along the path, the wave carried her safely off shore until she could swim back, away from the sweeping currents. Letting go, and allowing destiny to unfold without fighting, had saved her life.

As with the tsunami in Indonesia, the economical wave we have been experiencing the past few months has swept many families away from their platform of security, and has left most in a paralyzing grip of fear for their future and for the wellbeing of their loved ones. With unemployment funds drying up, and few jobs on the horizon, even the strongest believers are faltering in their faith, and are desperately clinging to whatever they can find to remain afloat. Many more have turned to prayer to drown the distress, but although their lips utter words of salvation, their minds paint pictures of hell the moment they say Amen. Prayer and fear are ill-fated roommates, and unless a deep faith in the outcome evicts the doubts, prayers are but a stream of pretty words.

Despite the gloom of our financial night, we must know the sun will rise again. As Jesus said, if earthly parents have the power to fulfill the wishes of their children, how can we possibly doubt God’s power in fulfilling the needs of His children? No petition is hopeless if it is accompanied by absolute faith. Doubt is a human weakness which must be overcome if we can ever hope to rise above our limitations. As the mustard seed, we know we are too small and powerless to fight the winds of destiny, but we are big enough to hang on tight to our faith and "know" that we will be safely deposited wherever we need to go.

www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

By Invitation Only

2010-05-13T05:40:00.003-04:00

“Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your promotion.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you can imagine your mind being the home of your thoughts, it is easy to see how negativity could be kept at bay. In our physical world, we keep our doors closed and only grant access to those we wish to invite in. By being selective of the people that walk into our homes, we are pro-active in creating a safe environment for ourselves and our families. We would not invite thieves and murderers in, and would only want to surround ourselves with friends we feel comfortable with.

Regardless of who might be hoping to get in, we have ownership of the door, and can choose who will enter. Whether the person is well meaning but inconvenient such as a salesman, or dangerous and unpredictable as an escaped convict, they will not be able to get in if we don’t open the door.

Of course, we also need to be careful we are not too eager to keep the door closed at all times, as occasionally even friends might visit us unexpectedly. Balance and objectivity are of importance, and the criteria used to choose can be very simple – we let in people we love, make us happy, or serve a purpose in our lives, and leave out those whose only object is to annoy, undermine or hurt us.

There is no reason we can’t treat our minds with the same respect we treat our homes. Whether negative thoughts, feedback or energy are generated within our minds, or are the result of external factors at work in our lives, we are not obligated to allow them in and give them license to affect the safety and peace of our inner abode. We can deal with them as we would deal with someone selling carpet cleaner door-to-door: thank you but no thank you. If we indeed let them in, and get trapped in a one-hour-long presentation of a worthless product, we can blame nobody but ourselves.

Is it different when the negative thoughts or patterns originate directly from us? Not necessarily. There are two levels to our mind - a superficial mind, which scans and processes surface clutter, and a deeper mind, which takes in what has filtered through. As thoughts rush through our minds, we must observe them and either accept them or discard them according to their value in our world. It is really a simpler task than one would imagine.

We have the power to choose what we allow in. If we don’t enforce our boundaries we should accept unwanted visitors with a smile, as we are the ones who opened the door and led them inside.

www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

Right to Privacy, or Self-Isolation?

2010-05-12T04:42:00.002-04:00

“It means a great deal to those who are oppressed to know that they are not alone. And never let anyone tell you that what you are doing is insignificant” -Bishop Desmond Tutu

While I was growing up, people related to one another differently than they do today. Everybody knew everybody. As annoying as it was that your neighbor knew whom you were going out on a date with before you did, the closeness served a purpose: We all felt like we were part of a big family.

Then I grew up; I moved away, and times changed. In eleven years living in my first house, I probably met six neighbors; in my current house about eight. In fact, rather than meeting them, I should say we have passed one another while walking our pets or children and smiled cordially. No warmth there, aside from a pasted smile after a long day at work and a standard, automated greeting.

People of our generation have become isolated. They meet on predetermined social occasions, and maybe even talk on the phone often, but the camaraderie of having a “Rhoda” busting through our unlocked door is something that’s only preserved on “The Mary Tyler Moore” show.

Regardless of race, religious beliefs, political affiliations and other societal boundaries, we are all human beings and all are on the same boat sharing a journey. Larger cities with a high density of population such as New York or LA are even worse - millions of people live there, but many of them keep a constant shield in front of their hearts, afraid to meet or talk to a stranger.

We hide and isolate ourselves to be safe, to have space, to protect our rights to privacy; yet all that we are doing is creating widespread loneliness. Human beings have an innate need to connect to one another – whenever we go in the opposite direction, honoring fear, doubt and unfounded judgment, we do not do ourselves any favors. If we could take down the shield and show who we truly are – exposing the core of our weaknesses and strengths – we would be surprised at just how many people share our same feelings. Once the connection is made, everyone feels better simply by knowing they are not alone – someone understands what they are going through.

Why can’t we connect the same way with everyone we meet? Do we need to walk up a mountain to know the path is steep? In order to expect others to open up to us and be willing to connect, we have to start with ourselves. We are all unique and important in our own individual ways, yet we are all fruits of the same tree – there is no reason for us to fall so far apart.

www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

The Teacher Who Came Dresses as a Monster

2010-05-11T05:14:00.003-04:00

“A great teacher is like a candle – it consumes itself to light the way for others.” ~ Author unknown

A few months ago, I read somewhere that the two greatest teachers of compassion the world has ever seen are Hitler and the Dalai Lama. Being a huge fan of the Dalai Lama but personally not too sold on Hitler, this statement struck me as strange – how could anyone compare a holy man whose life purpose is to spread peace and compassion, to a military figure whose intent seemed to be one fed by hatred?

The question hovered around my thoughts the whole day, until that night when one of my children misbehaved, and I had no choice left but punish him by not letting him attend an event he had his heart set on. Now, if you were a fly in my house, you would know that my two boys argue over anything under the sun, and sometimes even about something above it; any chance they have to get the other in trouble they jump on it like a cowboy on a horse. But, this time, one brother had gotten in trouble all on his own, with no trickery necessary, so the natural order of things was upset.

Suddenly, one would have thought that I had given an innocent man a death sentence – not just one kid was mad at me…they all were, including Morgan who normally gets stumped by her big brothers and thrives on seeing them get what they deserve! Never had I seen so much love and compassion among my kids as I saw that night – they talked kindly to one another, and went overboard with small pleasantries that were, until that fateful day, a mother’s wishful thinking.

That’s when the meaning of that statement made it home. Certainly Hitler and the Dalai Lama are very different people, and they affect others in their own unique ways, but the teaching behind their actions is similar in the end – one inspired the world to feel compassionate toward people who had suffered from his heinous acts, while the other inspired his followers to be compassionate because compassion is part of the truth our collective soul must embrace.

We are conditioned to think of a teacher as someone who will lead through knowledge and wisdom alone, but sometimes teachers come masked in strange clothes. And, oddly enough, we tend to learn more, and much more quickly, since our attention is instantly seized from explosive events and actions. It might take us a lifetime to learn to appreciate a sunrise, or a kind smile, but if we find out our days are threatened by illness, that awareness will surface with light speed, as we feel we don’t have any time to lose.

Before going to bed that night, I thought again about the comparison between the two men, and about my children instantly pulling together after one was “too harshly” punished. In my children’s situation, anger and resentment toward the external force that had thrown one of their own into the dungeon, had caused them to choose love over sibling rivalry. I closed my eyes, feeling satisfied; though in their eyes I had momentarily morphed into Hitler, they had embraced the qualities of the Dalai Lama I admire so much. Only for one evening, mind you, but that was good enough for me.

www.sandracarringtonsmith.com

The Tree House

2010-05-10T04:24:00.003-04:00

"In order to reach your goals, you will have to climb a long way and be frightened. But take it a step at a time"

Those were the words a kind uncle uttered one day, as his young niece expressed her fear of climbing the ladder leading to the tree house he had built. Their home was a two- story Victorian with a steep pitched roof. The tree house was in an old Oak tree, and it was higher than the roof top of the Victorian house. To the little girl who stood at the bottom of the tree, the tree house seemed to float above the clouds, and she was apprehensive about going up. Despite her fears, her uncle gently nudged her to start climbing.

Many years later, as she worked her way through college, and struggled juggling jobs and school work, the girl always remembered that day, and thoughts of the tree house propelled her forward toward achieving greater heights.

Even if the heights we are attempting to reach are not unthinkable ones, it is quite common to be frightened when we contemplate our goals. Just like the tree house, our dreams seem exceedingly distant and it is easy to forget that each step gets us closer to destination.

We may not see the results right away, and that’s usually discouraging. Once a goal is set, faith must carry us the rest of the way. We can’t look down, or else we will fall. We can only go forward, one step at a time, knowing that we WILL get to the tree house if we keep up our efforts.

Growing up, I had a friend who had weight problems. Periodically, she would get motivated to try a new diet, but after following it for a week or two, she would give up. When I asked why she didn’t stick with the regimen, she always replied that she wasn’t losing any weight anyway. In reality, it was not true. Even after a week, one could tell that something was slightly changing, but it would have taken several weeks to see noticeable results. The change was not dramatic enough to keep her committed to her goal.

A few years ago, I ran into her while visiting my parents, and saw that she had lost an amazing amount of weight. When I asked her what had finally worked, she said: "I just decided to stick with the diet, regardless of the immediate lack of reward." Although she could not see tangible results, she had decided to have faith and continue – the pounds began to melt off, and a new woman, smiling and confident, was born.

Fear of failure is probably the greatest deterrent of going far. We are afraid of not making it, so we don’t even try. Once that fear is conquered, and faith takes over, the worst is done.

The little girl of the story had a special place in the heart for the uncle that encouraged her to climb the tree house and she will always know that when she is scared of anything, she can think of that beautiful, sunny day.

I am certain her uncle, who recently passed away, is smiling down at her from the top of the tree house, proud of all she has conquered. In fact, I think he is doing that right now.

http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com