Running Out of Time

This morning I woke up thinking about death. Not in a morbid way, mind you; more along the lines of how death connects to life itself.

At first impression, the two seem quite opposite from one another, but when one looks closely, they are a mirrored image of each other. Think of the number 8, or better, the sign of infinity; one could fold the symbol in half, and see that the two halves match perfectly. Spiritually speaking, the symbol of infinity is used to represent the immortality of the soul, and its ability to shift between dimensions through the portals of birth and death. During life on earth, our soul absorbs everything it is exposed to, and stores the information which will be decoded after the soul has crossed through the death canal. Once able to download the information stored, it is able to analyze it, and assess what lessons have been learnt in full, as opposed to those that still need a little more practice.

Assuming that each “state of the soul” works in symbiosis with the other, it is safe to guess that awareness of one is essential in gaining full consciousness of the other. When we become aware of death consistently being a few fatal steps away from us, we can appreciate every moment we have, and make the most of every experience.

Imagine, this morning, that this is the last day of your life. What are you going to do with it? Are you going to waste it being angry? Being worried? Holding a grudge? Being high on any mind-numbing substance? Or are you going to truly live today, to breathe fully and forget all which weighs your soul down?

There is always time to hate and push away, but never enough to forgive and embrace. We get so uptight about unnecessary baggage, that we forget the greater meaning of this wonderful gift of life. Some numb themselves with unnecessary substances to cope, and rarely realize that our purpose is not one of sleeping life away but live it to the fullest. We came to live this earthly experience for a reason; if there was no need for us to undergo these experiences, we wouldn’t have been born.

Each moment we are allowed to draw a breath is a moment we can make a difference; it’s a moment we can take a stand for the greater good; it’s a moment we should live fully as if it was our very last.

A Delightful Captivity

The past few days I’ve been in captivity. Being the hybrid product of a Mediterranean upbringing and southern life, I can’t drive on snow or ice; even if the main roads are by now fairly passable, my subdivision is still frozen stiff, and the kids and I are stuck at home until the big thaw.

When I first looked at the weather forecast a couple of days ago, the outlook was a dark shade of gray graduating to pitch black – temperatures rising barely above freezing during the day, and down in the teens at night were going to ensure snow on the ground for a while. For once in my life I thought that hibernation sounded mighty good.

Today is day five of my captivity in the prison I share with a few other inmates – my kids and my pets – and I can only say one thing about it all…I’ve had a blast! When I thought about it last night, I feared that cabin fever had fatally led to sheer madness, but when I reflected a little more, I understood the reason why I felt so elated.

Although I can hardly get anything done, and I spend the days either playing Candyland or reading, I can’t be expected to go anywhere, and my load of social demands has been dramatically cut in half. When we ran out of juice yesterday morning, my sons’ typical mantra would have been “Mom, are you going to the store today?” Knowing that I can’t drive anywhere, nobody even asked the question and they happily settled for water to drink. Same with driving kids around all over town; I’m sure that all mothers of teenagers can relate – we spend a great portion of our days running from place to place, from one activity to the next, until the car can almost drive itself if only given a hint of where we are going. But not the past few days…everyone was content just with sitting at home and playing in the snow. What a foreign feeling it has been to face four whole days with no schedule! And what a pleasant one, I might add.

Just the other day I was reading a discussion a few people on a different site were having about freedom. When we speak of freedom, we often focus on the restrictions experienced by individuals and countries alike. We criticize communist countries for the lack of freedom their citizens have to endure; we condemn the oppression some individuals have experienced in the past, and we constantly hear about American freedom versus the sense of freedom which exists in other societies. We can speak our minds, and we can choose our beliefs; we are free to go to school and we are encouraged to protect our civil liberties, but in the greater scheme of things, are we really free?

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the following are two definitions of freedom: a : the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action. b : the quality or state of being exempt or released from something onerous.

Certainly, we have the choice of being free at all times, but if one looks closely at the tenets of our western societies, we will realize we are not free at all. We might not have a sword or a gun pointed at us, but more times than none we run around in circles to meet all the demands of our daily lives. And if, Heaven forbid, something can’t fit into the tight space between one demand and the next one, we feel that we have let others and ourselves down. We run and run toward no specific destination, glad to have made it a day and already fretting about the demands of the days ahead. In itself, that’s not freedom.

The solitude and forced captivity of the past few days have taught me something important – we can only fit so much into one day, and what doesn’t get done before nightfall will still be there waiting for us tomorrow. And if for one day we need to let someone down for not meeting THEIR expectation, then oh well…at least we got to play Candyland.

The Bright Red Berries

“Expect your every need to be met. Expect the answer to every problem and expect abundance on every level.” ~ Eileen Caddy


The past few days have been unusual ones for Raleigh NC – an uncharacteristic snow storm for the area, coupled with extremely low temperatures, has turned this southern city into a winter wonderland.

When I went out for a walk with my daughter, yesterday, I thought the scenery was quite striking – the Carolina blue sky, crowned by a glorious sun, intensified the pristine beauty of the soft blanket wrapped tight over homes and yards.

On my way back home I saw one of my neighbors come out holding a bowl of birdseed; she was dressed in black pants and a soft green sweater, the color of which stood out against the ethereal white of the snow like an emerald laid over a rich cloth in the window of a jewelry store. I thought it was very sweet of her to think of the birds, since they were probably struggling to find a meal under the layer of snow and ice, and I reminded myself about some leftovers in the fridge I could bring back for some of the wild animals living in the woods behind my house.

I got home and stood in front of my kitchen sink to fill the teakettle with water, and my attention was stolen by something I rarely notice outside the window - a Robin was sitting on one of the branches of the huge bush beside my deck, happily feasting on some of the berries. Nothing unusual about that, but what really caught my attention was the bright color of the berries, a sanguine red which stood out against the green of the leaves and the white of the snow – unless a bird was blind, those berries could not be missed.

The episode got the wheels in my head spinning...the berries were in plain sight, and elevated from the ground where they could not be hidden by the fallen snow; they were bright and inviting, grouped in grape-like bunches; it was almost as if they were bearing a sign saying: ‘Free groceries.’ I suddenly remembered that during my walk I had seen several other bushes of the same type, all laden with red berries.

The birds didn’t fret about the storm, nor did they worry about dinner – they only concerned themselves with being, leaving all worries to the wind and knowing on a deeper level that they would be sustained. And they were; in plain red berries.

Universe knows no limitations and no lack of abundance – when something is needed, it is promptly and amply provided without delays. We are the ones who cause our own limitations, and become so absorbed by our dramas that we fail to see the bounty all around us. Birds often sing before dawn even breaks, and just because it is still dark around them, they don’t doubt for a minute that the sun will rise; to the contrary, they sing in gratitude before the first ray of light shows itself in the east.

By focusing on what doesn’t work, we easily overlook whatever has been provided to fill our need, even if it sits right in front of our eyes. As Sarah Ban Breathnach said, “Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend…when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives, but are grateful for the abundance that’s present – love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and the small pursuits which bring us pleasure – the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.”