The Wise Owl Who Said, "Who?"

       My deep slumber was broken this morning by a voice outside of my window.  It was a familiar voice; one that I have heard a few times before in my life, but the words that she said this time were very different.  She didn't perch in a far off tree exclaiming, "Hoo!".  She stood directly outside of my bedroom window to ask, "Who...who...WHO-WHO?!"  Angry at the intrusion, I held the pillow over my face to drown out her questions, but as the morning went on I knew that I would not forget her query.  Who?  Truly who am I?  Who are you?  What makes us who we are?  I am my fathers daughter, my sisters sister, my husbands wife, my sons mother.  I work at this place and I have these friends.  I shop at that place and eat this food.  But WHO AM I?  Under the physicality of my clothes and my hair style and the side of town that I live on, who am I?  If I'm looking past the existential and the physical, am I the sum of my thoughts?  We are always trying to express our thoughts through words and other means of communication, but maybe that's not who I truly am.  I find that I'm constantly trying to shape my thoughts because I am human and my thoughts are not always true.  Thoughts arise through human nature and emotional responses, but they aren't always real.  There must be something deeper, something at the core, that makes us who we are.  Maybe there is no one particular thing that makes us people.  I believe that a combination of things can form us into the people that we are, but only the "at the core" me can shape myself into something more, something better.  Perhaps you would call that my spiritual self, my higher mind.  The part of me that sees a fellow human struggling and bleeds a little on the inside for their pain.  The part of me that goes beyond empathy and reaches out a hand to help them.  The part of me that speaks kind words and smiles at a homeless person who smells of week-old garbage, because I know that they have feelings too.  The part of me that recognizes the soul in the people that I see rather than the human face that is before me.  Yes, we are multi-dimensional, complex, intricate, a system of thoughts, feelings, past experiences, and knowledge.  But there is a higher self, the real me, my soul consciousness that inspires and guides me with intuition and inspiration. My GOD VOICE, if you will.  It is always connected to me, but I do not always communicate with it.  We must learn to listen to ourselves, but it is imperative that we learn to discern between the fear-based ego voice and the aware higher self voice.  Only then can I become more than human, more than kind, more than wise.  I can take faith and be strong in who I am, because I know that I can be more than Jain.
What does your owl say?

The Intolerance Of A Nation

       All too often I've sat and felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and wondered why there is so much pain.  I have come to the conclusion that it is all because of hate and intolerance and fear.  Why do we hate?  Why do we judge?  Because we are afraid.  We refuse to accept that other people of the world are different than we are because we don't understand them.  We push away people of a different sexual orientation because it's unknown to us.  We think that everyone with a different religion or belief than our own is wrong because we are afraid for our own souls.  In a nation where equality and freedom are supposed to be household staples I find that preachers teach against homosexuality and varying spirituality.  The Catholic believe one story while the Mormon believes another.  The Buddhist trusts in one way of life while the Orthodox practices another.  "Our way is the ONLY right way to eternal life!" they yell at each other, while deep down that belief is only breeding hate and fear.  Why do we need to do this?  I choose to simply accept that every person has their own diverse and individual belief system.  Each person has their own God.  Every single person on earth believes in a God that makes them feel safe and loved and we should not take that away from anyone or tell them that they're wrong.  I would consider myself a Christian because I love the way that Jesus taught.  But Jesus taught the opposite of what a lot of pastors teach.  If you read the Bible carefully enough you will see where Jesus taught differently than even the other apostles and church leaders taught.  But that is MY bible, and if someone else has their own then that's great too!  Come close and I'll tell you a secret...did you know that the traditional tale of Buddha says that he was born in the wilderness while his mother was traveling?  The Queen Maya was visited by four angels in her sleep that told her that she would bear a son who would become the "Enlightened One".  Sound familiar?  Don't be mad!  My point is that the world is so much bigger than we think it is.  There are thoughts that one of the wise men who visited baby Jesus was a Buddhist, or at least a "distinguished foreigner from the East".  There are so many beautiful and peaceful spiritual practices that do no harm: Hinduism, Taosim, Jainism, Judaism, Sikhism, Zoroastrianism, etc. but we can only see as far as our own noses.  But we do that because we are afraid!  We are afraid that we will lose our own place in heaven, our own morality, and our own faith if we don't impose our faith on others while those others are sitting there thinking the same thing about us and our religion.  WE ARE ALL THE SAME.  We are all human, we all believe in something, and we will all someday turn to dust.
What's your belief?

Through The Rain

       I awaken from a deep slumber to the steady rhythm of soft rain pattering across the grass outside of my window.  My muscles beg to be stretched as a yawn escapes my lips and my blurry eyes try to focus on the clock.  The minute hand rests at five 'till, and I roll to turn off my alarm before the dreaded buzzing sound assaults my ears.  My feet shuffle through the carpet towards the bathroom where I splash warm water on my eyes before climbing into the sink to sit and paint my face for the day.  A chill creeps across my arms and down my back and I shiver momentarily as my body adjusts to the morning air.  I fight the urge to crawl back under the warm blankets, knowing that my son will be up soon to get ready for school and the baby will be crying for his "Mah" before long.  After the chaotic morning routine subsides, I enter the kitchen and stand at the window watching the rain fill the yard puddles and the cats run from bush to bush in a desperate attempt to keep their gray and white fur dry.  I am suddenly aware that I am alone, and for once everything seems to be still.  There is no sound aside from the rain, and the only movement is the ripples that undulate away from each water droplet.  I momentarily feel sad, peaceful, thankful, still, quiet, and content.  What is the purpose of the rain?  Of course rainwater is essential for all of life, providing the majority of the fresh water on earth which is needed to sustain many types of ecosystems.  But what is the purpose of the rain?  As I drive away from my home I notice the absolute stillness on the roads around me on the way to work; the drone of the windshield wipers and the splash of the tires making my mind sleepy.  Perhaps the rain falls to help us be still.  Life gets to be such a whirlwind of activity and due dates that we sometimes forget to stand motionless and allow nature to be the moving force around us.  We only notice the little things, the birds bathing and the squirrels chattering, when we aren't occupied with our own selves.  Or perhaps, the rain falls to wash away the dregs that built up while the wind was blowing dirt and the animals were tracking their prey.  Cleansing the earth and cleansing the soul is healthy and much needed.  Sometimes we have to strip down and step out of our dingy skin to see the world anew and feel the refreshing breath of life renewed.  Maybe the rain falls for no other reason than to help us all appreciate the sunshine a little more.   Or maybe the rain is nothing more than music sent from the heavens for the special few who have the ears to hear it and the feet to dance in its glory.

Spotlight! on Sarah Howle -Break The Chain

       I run through the rain with my hands insufficiently covering my hair until I can hop the stone steps that lead to the wooden porch.  A surfboard hangs to my left and the door directly before me leaks soft guitar licks and hair-raising whispers from the cracks.  I turn the doorknob and push with my shoulder to find a young crooner perched in a bench across the room with her legs crossed.  Upon my arrival her voice immediately stops and a smile spreads across her unsure lips as she introduces herself to my drenched face for the first time.  This is Sarah Howle, eighteen year old Virgo and aspiring star from a little country town in South Carolina called Hartsville.  But those are just her bio facts, what I want to see is her soul.  I tell her not to mind my presence as I slink to a bedded corner to eagerly await the ghostly tunes of her breath once more.  Sarah inhales and begins a song, hesitant at first, but then I see her angle her head downwards with her long hair partly covering her face.  This gives her just enough of a shield to remember herself as her eyes close and she begins to feel the words that are magically pouring from somewhere deep in her belly.  I close my own eyes and lay enchanted at the passion that I can clearly hear in her words.  I love that she doesn't try to sing the song exactly the way that Stevie Nicks did; instead she loves the lyrics and makes them her own, in her own key, in her own time, and she just blows me away.  I imagine that if her soul could slip from her body it would take the shape of a cat and howl its pain at the midnight moon.
      Sarah quoted some of the lyrics to me, things like, "slipping into the denseness of my loneliness," and "even if I found you you'd be so cold" and I knew that this young woman was special.  She remembers an agonizing juncture when she was just a little girl.  Both of her parents were drinking too much and little Sarah went through a time when she didn't quite feel safe.  That hidden pain grew into anxiety and depression that can only be relieved by crying her torment through the words that she sings.  Still hesitant of herself, she closes her eyes and imagines that she is standing alone in a wide open field at 2:15 in the morning.  There is no one around and the air has a chill that clings to her skin.  Within this fictional safe haven she is able to open her soul and pour her beautiful voice out for all to drink in.  Sarah was originally inspired by her maternal grandmother who used to sing gospel tunes on the television.  Her brothers were also catalysts on the road to finding her voice.  Sarah's older brother is a piano man who encourages her through his wisdom, and her younger brother heartens her with his pure soul.  "He was a blessing in disguise," she says of her three year old brother, Charlie.  "He was a surprise child and I realized that it wasn't just all about me.  He makes me want to do good and make the world a better place for him." 
       I had the most amazing time with this passionate young lady today.  Putting Sarah's physical merit aside, she is unmistakably beautiful through her intuition, loving passion, and ambitious strength.  She uses the only instrument that she can play to soothe and condition the hurt in her soul.  Her voice is a tool that she can carry with her wherever she goes and escape into its safe place, whether she's surrounded by hundreds of people or laying alone in her dark and soundless room with her mind wandering to the wide corners of her needs, desires, and dreams.
What's your escape?

Ergo Ego

       The strangest thing happened to me yesterday.  Someone told me, "No"!  I asked this person for their help with a project that I thought would greatly benefit us both, and she flat out told me no.  No explanation, no reason; she didn't even hear the whole proposal!  Of course my first reaction was to try to convince her as to why she SHOULD want to do what I wanted her to do, and then I spent the afternoon re-reading my text messages to her and trying to figure out what I had said to make her not want to help.  My head ran wild for hours, "She doesn't like me.  She's a bitch.  She doesn't know what she's missing.  What did I do wrong?  WHY didn't she think my idea was wonderful?"  I had been on a high of yeses, but as soon as I heard the word no for the first time that week my entire day just fell apart.  I began to doubt everything that I was doing and wondered if I just really sucked in general but people were afraid to tell me so.  Later that afternoon I sat outside as the sun went down and just let the whole range of emotions wash over my brain.  I let myself feel angry, I allowed the rejection to hurt me a little, and then I suddenly realized what was REALLY wrong.  My EGO was injured!  You know what?  She is allowed to say no.  We are all allowed to say no.  She owes me nothing in order for her to refuse me, and I commend her honesty.
       The problem is that I'M the one who is afraid to say no.  From the time we are born we are told what to do and where to go and what to think, to the point where its almost like our own opinions and thoughts and wants aren't considered just because we're little.  As we grow, if our ideas aren't encouraged or validated, we learn to simply obey orders and if we don't want to do something then we feel guilty about it.  I think this is amplified greatly in abuse victims, sexually abused or otherwise, because there is a power there that was snatched away.  Someone along the line showed us that our opinions didn't matter.  Someone once revealed to us that our no's didn't really have any meaning or value.  And when our no's no longer have meaning then we lose a power within ourselves.  Long, long ago I lost that power, and I've been trying to find it again with every part of my beating little heart.  I'm going to practice saying no today.  And tomorrow.  And the day after that.  If there is something that I am uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do then I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT!  Isn't that a free feeling?  I won't allow myself to feel guilty for standing up for my wants and desires.  If I don't voice them then no one will ever know!  If I don't reclaim my power then who will that authority belong to?  I am my own person.  I have ideas, good ideas.  I will not feel small for having them, and I will not make other women feel small for having their own.  We are all of the same sex and we must stand up for each other.  Girl, say no!  Say it loud!  YOU DON'T NEED A REASON.
What's your ego saying?

Inspire A Revolution

       By now most of us have heard of Amy Bleuel, the woman who inspired the Project Semicolon.  For those of you who don't know what that is, let me blow your mind for a moment.  Amy Bleuel was a young woman who was physically abused by her step-mother beginning at the age of six, sexually abused at the age of ten, raped at the age of thirteen, endured the loss of her father to suicide at the age of eighteen, was raped twice more in college, and then suffered from alcoholism and five major suicide attempts.  That woman endured more in ten years than any person should ever have to go through.  And what did she do with her pain?  She inspired a revolution.  Amy founded a non-profit mental health and anti-suicide organization in 2013.  Amy hoped that her organization would present "hope and love to those who are struggling with depression, suicide, addiction, and self-injury" by encouraging the tattoo semicolon symbol to raise awareness and show support.  Selena Gomez jumped on board after she helped to produce the Netflix series "Thirteen Reasons Why", as did two of the actors from the show.  A book was later published by HarperCollins entitled "Project Semicolon: Your Story Isn't Over" in 2017 which is available practically everywhere now.  This was more than just a fad, it was hope.
       In literature, the semicolon is used when the writer could choose to end the sentence, but instead the author chooses to keep going.  That is what Amy Bleuel did with her life until March 23 of 2017.  The coroner ruled Ms. Bleuel's death as a suicide which left a bitter taste in my mouth.  As we mourn the one year anniversary of this amazing woman's death I ask myself, "How could she?"  She was changing lives!  People all over the world looked to her for support when they had suicidal thoughts or needed emotional help to get through the grief of a loved ones suicide.  How could she?  I begin to feel angry when I think about what she did, but I know that deep down I'm only angry because I feel the hurt.  Suicide saddens me beyond what I can describe.  It is the very moment when a person who has been suffering inconsolably for so long, while everyone else around them lives their life normally, snaps their fingers and flips it around.  Now, the person who was suffering is no longer in pain, and all the people around them who had been living normally are suddenly suffering instead.  I want to be mad and tell those people that they were selfish in the worst way, but who am I to make such a heavy judgement?  Who am I to pretend to know someones deepest pain?  How could I possibly know what it's like to wake up and feel so much hurt that I couldn't get out of bed?  To hate myself so much that no amount of encouragement could calm my mind?  So, instead of hate, I will choose to spread love.  Good for you Amy!  You endured the worst that this world had to offer.  You didn't become a serial killer, or the unabomber, or a terrorist.  You inspired the people around you to live their best life and get help.  I'm proud of you.  I support your decision. And I wish that there had been more help for you, you who helped so many others.  Today I would like to take two moments of silence.  The first as a remembrance for an innocent little girl who was lost to the madness of hate and corruption.  The second moment of silence will be for you.  The you who is reading this right now.  You are still here.  You can still make a difference.  You can inspire a revolution.
What's your revolution project?
https://projectsemicolon.com/

Why I'm Never Enough

       Who would I be without that thought?  Could I be happy?  Could I be at peace?  I lay in the sunshine while the baby naps.  I have nothing that needs to be done at that moment, nowhere to be.  The dogs play while the cats roam the yard.  Birds splash in puddles of water and ants crawl from dirt grain to blade of grass.  I look down at my basking body and think to myself, "My thighs are getting fat.  I gained two pounds this week.  My stretch marks look very blue today, I wonder if they'll ever fade.  I need to shave and my hair is getting oily."  My thoughts cause my eyes to wander further up my body as I begin to critique the form of my tummy and the size of my breasts.  My chest tightens as tears well up behind my lashes.  I look to my husband across the yard, who has been peacefully raking dog poop with no complaint, and ask him if he'll always love me.  He looks up, surprised at my random question, and answers, "I hope so."  That was not the exact answer that I thought I needed at that moment, but I listened as he went on.  "You're my best friend, I hope we always have each other."  Suddenly, I realized:  I'm not good enough.  I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH BECAUSE I DON'T LET MYSELF BE.  My husband obviously wanted me more than any other woman on earth because he married ME.  I allow myself to become jealous of other women because I think that, in some way, they must be better than me.  But they're not!  We are ALL made special and unique and beautiful!  I sometimes resent the girl who can sing so beautifully while people praise her talent.  But my baby adores when I sing him his lullabies, and he has never looked up from his crib and said, "Meh.  I think I'd like that other lady to come sing."  He only wants ME.  Life suddenly becomes light when I stop thinking about all of the things that I'm not and simply allow myself to be who I AM.  The people who truly love me don't ever look at me and see knobby knees and long toes.  Those may be some of my physical features, but people who love me look at me and just see ME.  I am more than the sum of my parts.  All of my imperfections make me absolutely perfect!  I AM beautiful.  I AM enough!  I AM powerful!  I will chant that mantra over and over, louder and louder, until I feel brave and big enough to step out and face my day.  Because the ONLY one who actually knows me and still thinks that I'm not good enough is ME.
What's holding you back?