Come Fly With Me!

When you’re taught shame you’re taught subtle self-hatred. If you’ve had handlers who didn’t love themselves you’ve been exposed. It’s very difficult to not replicate habitual behavior. You can’t see the real you until the lies are removed. You don’t have to be permanently grounded. No matter what’s happened. There are ways to spread your wings, feel the lift, and change your view.

Condor by gustavo fernando

Image courtesy of Gustavo Fernando via flickr.com

 

Defy Gravity  

I found an injured bird when I was a boy. I still remember thinking how sad it was to see that bird flopping around on the ground. I didn’t realize the larger lesson I would come to learn. All that bird wanted to do was fly. He was meant to fly. He was created to take to the air, feel the wind under his wings, and soar. Going around in a circle, because his natural state was altered, the helpless little bird seemed afraid. He squealed with a painful sound that’s stayed with me all these years. I wanted to do something but didn’t know what to do. I really wanted to fix him. I wanted to see him back in the air.

I never thought to shame him for being the way he was. I don’t remember calling him a failure. I didn’t belittle him for being stupid enough to get himself hurt. I had no desire to kick him to the curb. All I wanted to do was aid him. I wanted to help him fly again. I had the ability to care. Be concerned. Do the right thing simply because it was the right thing. Compassion and empathy were present without restraint. I had the capacity to do something, so I did.

I picked that little bird up and carried him home. An examination revealed his wing was broken. I took a popsicle stick, some tape, and I bandaged him up. I put him in a cardboard box to be safe. I fed him with some water and bread. I found out that some older boys had busted his wing when they hit him with a rock from a slingshot. They made fun of me for nursing the bird. I don’t remember how long it took, several days, before I removed the bandage. His wing had grown back together. Nobody, maybe not even the bird, thought he would fly again. Everyone thought his condition was final. What was believed to be fatal only needed someone to care enough to do something.

How We Can Help!                                                                                                                                                                                           Most of our wounds come from the stones the bigger kids throw. And the adults that never grew up. You’d have to be blind not to see all the people, flopping around, not able to fly. The squeal of their pain, the signs of their fear, are in high-definition and surround sound. We can increase the severity by adding insult to injury. Even worse, we can exclude them from dignity and act like they’re invisible. Or, we can choose door number two and, sincerely want them to recover enough, to take action.

Image result for two birds in flight

Image courtesy of publicdomainpictures via pixabay.com

We don’t all have the same wing span. We don’t all take the same flight path. Everyone isn’t going to soar to the same height. But we are all born to feel the wind under our wings. No person comes to the world to be ugly, hateful, or belligerent.

Something went wrong on their way to beauty.

Wanting you to fly, more than you want to fly, won’t be effective. But if I listen beyond your noise I can hear your authentic voice crying to get airborne. If I give you what I want, in my own life, I have no doubt we will see the mountaintop together.

One of the best moments in my life was when I tossed that bird up in the air and he took flight.

Who, and how, will you help someone achieve their dreams?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

 

What’s The Question?

Questions by walknboston on karegiver.org

Image courtesy of Walknboston via Karegivers.org

My seven-year old grandson used to be six. He was full of questions when he was six. At seven, he’s full of knowledge, beyond his years. I don’t know how he learned so much, so fast. And when exactly did I become wrong about everything? How does one become obsolete in a matter of days and months? My grandson has amazed me, from day one, with true brilliance. He’s smart, talented, and delights me in so many ways. But, I think I can still teach him a thing or two. If I can only get him to understand that.

Relativity                                                                                                                                                        I hope to nurture a sense of wonder in my grandson. That healthy curiosity which accompanies intelligent exploration. The greatest discoveries don’t come from disinterested spectators. Everyone of our masterful modules of understanding emerged from a question. Not just any and every question. But questions which have a desire to be answered. There are far too many homeless queries holding up signs, will work for answers, who turn down all offers of resolution.

There’s something about determination. Resisting the temptation to give up because something is difficult. If my observations are correct, answers aren’t hard at all. It’s the questions we struggle with. Wrong questions only lead to more questions. There seems to me to be an undeniable law governing all progress. If you want answers you have to have the right questions.

Carl Sagan, in his book “The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark” said: There are naive questions, tedious questions, ill-phrased questions, questions put after inadequate self-criticism. But every question is a cry to understand the world. Like many others Sagan believes there are no dumb questions. I won’t disagree. Although I’m glad some of my questions never went public. I do wonder about the wisdom of questions that take a vow of celibacy.

Team players won’t bring you problems without offering potential solutions. I’ve never felt important by knowing what’s wrong. I believe significance come from the problems we solve. To be fair to myself, to give myself every chance of fulfilling my potential, I alone must take responsibility for the questions I ask. Before my questions and answer can marry they have to be compatible and relative.

ladder by Mykl Roventine commons.wikimedia.org

Image courtesy of Mykl Roventine via commons.wikimedia.org

Rungs on the Ladder                                                                                                                                Questions can be nurturing and nutritious enough to be a permanent staple in our daily diets. To stop inquiring is a sure way to give yourself sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia. Otherwise known as “brain freeze.” Most agree, nothing in the universe moves faster than light. In a spiritual sense we are always playing catch up. To forfeit our right to investigation, or have our ability to employ questions as a method of understanding the “whys” of life, can lead to nihilism. Skepticism, negativity, cynicism, pessimism, and mobocracy may follow any society which loses its courage to question.

What good is freedom of speech if we don’t know what we’re talking about? If we are to grow, develop, find our best selves, solve our deepest issues I think we must ask ourselves, What’s the question?

What is the best question you’ve ever asked?

 

 

How Do You Find The Time?

time management by NasimAhmed96$ commons.wikimedia

Image courtesy of NasimAhmed96$ via commons.wikimedia.org

The first principle of time management is, you don’t manage time, you manage activity. There’s no way to manipulate more than twenty-four hours in a day. It can’t be about more time. It has to be about what’s done with the time we have.

Time can’t be stockpiled or used like rollover minutes. It’s not possible to stack up points to be redeemed for more time. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could gift more time to each other? If we could give bonus minutes we would be both popular and rich. When a life is cut short by ill-fated events the person should have the right to will their unused time to the Heir of their choice. We certainly shouldn’t complain about senior citizens living beyond their means minutes.

Time is an asset that depreciates or goes up in value based on how it’s invested. I have a lump in my throat as I acknowledge that activity doesn’t necessarily mean productivity. Being busy doesn’t mean I’m being constructive. I know people who are completely exhausted from doing nothing. They’ve chosen to be immobilized by what they should do. Using up their energy fighting against themselves. You may have someone like that in your life. They can wear you out with all the talk about what they’re never going to do . Even though you care about them you have to control your space to save precious time.

Britons took part in a national survey listing their biggest regrets. Nearly three-quarters of people over sixty believe regrets are inevitable. 90 per cent said they wished they had made a different life choice at some point in their lives. Not traveling more, losing touch with old friends, and remorse about time wasted with the wrong partner were the three most popular answers. Not working harder in school and not telling a relative who’s now dead that they were loved rounded out the top five, according to Sarah O’Grady, author of the article. UK/News/Daily Express Aug 6, 2015

good man by marcus aurelius on flickr

Image courtesy of Marcus Aurelius via flickr.com

Tony Campolo, professor emeritus of sociology at Eastern University, cites a study done of 50 people over the age of 95. They were asked what they would do differently if they had to live over again. Here are the three dominant answers;  1. They would risk more,  2. They would reflect more. and,  3. They would do more things that would live on after they were dead. What a beautiful bundle of wisdom to unwrap with care. When I read this I felt like I had been given a secret to time.

My favorite gift to give has always been a watch. I think it’s important to know what time it is. We don’t know how many years, days, and hours we will get to spend. What we do get to decide is how we’ll spend the time we get. I believe we all do what we want. Not what we wish for but what matters to us the most. Maybe the best way to tell time is by what we are doing with our lives. I’m going to decide what to do today. I have choices to make about how I make people feel about themselves and me. I can use my time for things that will evaporate or I can can do those things that will live long after I’m gone. I don’t think anyone has ever complained about being loved too much. It’s up to me to find the time to do what really matters.

What do you think about time?

 

 

Fear of Success

I would like to introduce you to a young lady who writes transparently. Her blog here is a snippet of her thought life. I know many people can relate to her.

Living Closely

fearIt’s been 20 days since my last blog post. I know this because the blog site I use, WordPress, is kind enough to remind me that I am procrastinating already. It also likes to remind me that I have had a draft saved for the past 19 days. It’s the third or forth version of a post about validation and feelings. It’s a very personal post, and it’s something I feel like I need to share. So why haven’t I posted it? Because I’m scared.

Lately, I’ve began to fear a lot of things. I’m letting this fear prevent me from doing things or even talking about doing them. I have developed a lot of ideas of grandeur; dreams of being a successful blogger or Youtube personnel, the desire to pursue the art of makeup and become a beauty consultant, the idea that I can change someone’s life just by being me…

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The Life of a King!

Marry it Gemma Morgan on flickr

Image courtesy of Gemma Morgan via flickr.com

I’ve been married to the same girl for thirty four years. I remember shortly after we met, she invited me over for lunch. It was an uncomplicated menu. Grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup. Undoubtedly chosen for its universal appeal. I wasn’t a fan of grilled cheese in those days, my grandson has changed my mind since he came along, but I wasn’t about to tell her. She seemed a little nervous. I didn’t know if she lacked confidence in her culinary skills or if it was my presence.

I wish I could tell you, it was my overwhelming charm and good looks, that had her shaking in her apron. But, the truth is much more reality based. She simply hadn’t mastered stove top brilliance. How she got the grilled cheese to burn and the chicken soup to boil over at the exact same moment is an accomplishment she’s never duplicated. She was way to cute for me to be concerned by potentially harmful nutrition.

RomanticDinner by shinjuco on diviantart

Image courtesy of Shinjuco via deviantart.com

She quickly turned off the fire under the soup. With smoke rising from the burning grilled cheese, she grabbed a plastic bowl and poured soup in it. In her haste to tend to Mr. Cheese, she set the plastic bowl of soup on the hot burner. Before she could get the sandwich, out of the skillet, the soup was running out of the melting bowl. Being a male, a Marine, and masculine I applied my ‘in the heat of battle’ training to gain control of the situation.

She was embarrassed to say the least. Comedy, being one of my many attributes, I whipped up some laughter to save the bacon, so to speak. Some guys would have interpreted the whole experience in a negative palate. It would have been too eventful for any traditional momma’s boy to handle. Weaker men would have bolted out the door. Visualizing a life of potted meat and fast food. Not me. I was the Adventurer. The Thrill Seeker. And, the Risk-Taker. I wasn’t about to give up on potential marital bliss over blacken cheese and runaway bouillon.

like a queen livelifehappy.com on flickr

Image courtesy of livelifehappy.com via flickr.com

Once we secured our safety, we sat down, to dine on the delicacies earned through life-threatening recipe. I tell you, without hesitation, it remains the most memorable meal of my life. There isn’t much today that Tina can’t cook. And, cook well. She was only eighteen when we shared this intimate feast. I knew, back then, she was special. I just knew she had potential. My gamble paid off, big time.

She must have held me in high esteem too. Maybe she was enthroned with me back in the day. I mean, if she didn’t think I was god like, she would never have offered me burnt sacrifices, right? I know she has a much less celestial view of me now. I haven’t had scorched vittles in a long time.

Like aKing Hal Tran on flickr

Image courtesy of Hal Tran on flickr.com

The Life of a King? All depends on how you look at it.

What keeps your relationship going?

What’s That Sound?

switched carriers by adam koford on flickr

Image courtesy of Adam Koford via flickr.com

Paul Marcarelli, of ‘Can you hear me now’ fame over at Verizon Wireless, has switched his allegiances. He’s now spouting the praises of Sprint. Hey, is that allowed? Well, growth can actually mean change. While we know all change isn’t growth, most of the time growth will require switching things up. Whether Paul grew into a better contract, Sprint grew into a better Company, or Verizon Wireless changed for the worst isn’t really the subject of this blog post.

Holding on to the Familiar

be your own bestie Unsplash on flickr

Image courtesy of Unsplash via flickr.com

On more than one occasion I’ve been admonished to listen to myself. Obviously, someone thought I wasn’t in touch with my own sound. And, they were certain if I heard myself I would change my position. It turns out hearing yourself isn’t quite so fluid. I have many experiences, all vying for equal recognition, demanding to be heard. I find it necessary to ‘get in touch’ with myself in order to speak in my authentic voice.

Not every life encounter deserves the same amount of elevation. Some exposures will turn into Certificates of Wisdom qualifying you for promotion. Other things can’t be forgotten quick enough. Whatever we repeat becomes a part of our sound. Repeat things enough and you create a soundtrack to your life. I’ve been stuck before. Where I sounded like a broken record. Unable to let go of the junk in my trunk. I didn’t understand I was creating the sound of me. Until I heard what others were hearing I couldn’t change my sound.

The Power Of The Moment

Life has a recognizable melody. Peace, harmony, and love have a signature sound. When pain, fear, confusion, and especially anger dominates a life their sounds are distinguishable too. Attitudes, mindsets, dogmas of cultures all have identifying ringtones. Change is powerful. It sounds off. Like fireworks in the sky, everyone can hear the sound of transformation.

When what you’ve gone through is irrelevant, to where you are now, you’ve found your music. The tune that follows letting go is catchy. You hum, tap your toe, and dance all alone. The moment you’ve searched for, your moment, the moment you knew was in you has burst into reality. You’re marching to the beat of your personal drum. You’re no longer who and what someone told you to be. You have come into your own.

think big ryan altamera on flickr

Image courtesy of Ryan Altamera via flickr.com

Courage is what it takes to arrive at these moments. And, courage is what it takes to stay the course. Not everyone will believe in your new sound. This isn’t your responsibility. They too will have to hear themselves. Some people are in your life for a reason and some people are in your life for a season. People who appreciate upward momentum will show up for you. The sound of excellence is attractive. There are people who want you to succeed. Let the divine turn your water into wine.

How would you describe your sound?