God is a Family of Love

"The doctrine of the Trinity is frequently despised by our post-Christian culture as the archetype of sterile philosophical disputation. But, in reality, the doctrine of the Trinity simply means God is love. Jesus revealed to his startled hearers that God was most deeply one in the way a family is one.

"His oneness is not the oneness of lonely and awful isolation, but the oneness of Love. There exists within God the mystery of the family, of a Father who begets the Son in perfect self-donating love, of a Son who mirrors that love back to the Father in perfect adoration, and of a Holy Spirit who eternally proceeds from this mysterious union of Persons; yet, all the Persons are one God..."

from this NCRegister.com commentary.

Kindness is Contagious

"Kindness is contagious. A smile begets a smile, simple courtesies encourage politeness, and a thoughtful gesture lingers in the heart. It feels good to do good and doing good deeds make others feel good. And so it goes, one good turn deserves another, and kindness becomes a way of life. Kindness is fundamental to life and it is essential in creating healthy, happy human relationships. We all need to be shown kindness and we all need to express it. Acts of kindness connect us to one another. It gives us hope in humanity.

"Whether random or well planned out and articulated, acts of kindness have a domino effect in creating a better world. Generosity of spirit is just as important as monetary contributions. Sincere acts of kindness are almost always appreciated, even if there is no acknowledgment. For true kindness is unconditional with no thought of reciprocation.

"Kindness lingers. We may forget the words, or even the person, but we seldom forget the act, a door held open, a cookie from a neighbor, a word of encouragement when we are feeling blue. Try it today. Commit one random act of senseless kindness. Mow a neighbor's lawn, let someone cut in line in front of you, hand out balloons for no reason, say something nice to everyone you meet. Chances are those that you touch today will 'pass it on' to others. We can change the world, one smile at a time."

For more information visit Actsofkindness.org

Let the Spirit In

Real power is usually unspectacular, a simple setting aside of fear that allows the free flow of love. But it changes everything.
---Martha Beck

"For some of us, the problem with spirituality is that it usually gets around to God. And for us, God has always been a distant, angry, hard-to-approach authority figure. Yet, the root of the word spirituality is spirit, not God. We don't have to believe in God to claim our spirituality.

"And spirit isn't something set apart from us. It's inside us. It surrounds us. It's the energy moving through the trees, mountains, rivers, and other people. When we accept that this energy is moving through us, we understand that we are, by nature,
connected and part of the whole.

"When we stop fighting our spiritual nature and surrender to it, we open the flood gates and allow more energy to flow through us; we become empowered. We are given the strength to do what we couldn't before... to more easily and effortlessly express our true... selves."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
based on a meditation in the book, The Color of Light by Perry Tilleraas

Trust, Faith, Happiness

"Every human being craves happiness. People are more than willing to spend great sums of money in the hope of achieving happiness. Unfortunately, their efforts are usually in vain, because happiness cannot be bought. Luxurious homes, sumptuous feasts, and lavish occasions may provide transitory pleasures, but never true happiness.

"Living with faith and trust in G-d can deliver the sought-for happiness. The reason more people do not achieve happiness is because they fall short of the requisite degree of faith and trust in G-d.

"We may worry about our financial future and the ability to provide for our families the way we would like, especially during economic downturns. When adversities occur, we are likely to become deeply dejected. A profound and unquestioning faith and trust in Divine benevolence will provide the serenity, security, and convictions that could eliminate these worries and sadness.

"People have varying degrees of faith and trust. The higher their level, the lesser are their worries and sadness. If we were able to achieve complete faith and trust, our dispositions would be such that happiness would radiate from us.

"TODAY I SHALL ...
... seek to strengthen my faith and trust in G-d so that I may achieve true happiness and be an example for others."

From the book Growing Each Day by Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski M.D.

Dream Weaving

"We sometimes have strange, impossible dreams, contrary to all the laws of nature. When we awake we remember them and wonder at their strangeness. You remember, perhaps, that you were in full possession of your reason during this succession of fantastic images; even that you acted with extraordinary logic and cunning while surrounded by murderers who hid their intentions and made great demonstrations of friendship, while waiting for an opportunity to cut your throat. You remember how you escaped them by some ingenious stratagem; then you doubted if they were really deceived, or whether they were only pretending not to know your hiding-place; then you thought of another plan and hoodwinked them once again.

"You remember all this quite clearly, but how is it that your reason calmly accepted all the manifest absurdities and impossibilities that crowded into your dream? One of the murderers suddenly changed into a woman before your very eyes; then the woman was transformed into a hideous, cunning little dwarf; and you believed it, and accepted it all almost as a matter of course--while at the same time your intelligence seemed unusually keen, and accomplished miracles of cunning, sagacity, and logic!

"Why is it that when you awake to the world of realities you nearly always feel, sometimes very vividly, that the vanished dream has carried with it some enigma which you have failed to solve? You smile at the extravagance of your dream, and yet you feel that this tissue of absurdity contained some real idea, something that belongs to your true life,--something that exists, and has always existed, in your heart. You search your dream for some prophecy that you were expecting. It has left a deep impression upon you, joyful or cruel, but what it means, or what has been predicted to you in it, you can neither understand nor remember."

from The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Every Little Thing You Do Matters

Early one morning, I was walking down the beach as the tide was going out. I saw a man coming the other way. As he approached, I noticed that he would occasionally stop, pick up a stranded starfish, look at it and toss the starfish back into the sea.

When we met, I asked him what he was doing. He said, "If the starfish are still on the sand when the sun comes up and hits them, they will die. I throw them back in the sea and give them a chance to live."

I responded, "But there are hundreds of miles of beach and you are just one man. Does what you are doing really matter?" He picked up another starfish, looked at it, and threw it back into the sea. "It does to that one," he said.

-- one of many variations of the parable of the starfish

Ditch the Desire to Please Everyone

"For Mordechai ... was approved by most of his brethren. He sought the good of his people and spoke in peace to all their descendants.”
— Esther 10:3

"The great Mordechai, who saved the Jewish people from total annihilation, won the approval of only most of his brethren. Most, but not all.

"Some people need to be liked by everyone. If one person out of several hundred does not approve of them, they are devastated. They are likely to become 'people pleasers,' going out of their way to obtain universal approval.

"This attitude comes from low self-esteem. People who feel secure about themselves believe that they are generally likable and do not feel threatened if one or more people does not like them. They realize that some personalities are simply incompatible with certain other personalities. The 'chemistry' between two people may be of such a nature that one person simply does not like the other, but that need not be a reflection on the latter's worth.

"People who are insecure and feel unlikable expect to be rejected. They therefore interpret innocent comments or gestures as confirmations of their unlikability. Since they fear such 'rejections,' they do things in order to be liked, in other words, they try to 'buy' affection.

"Mordechai sought everyone's welfare and spoke peace fully to all, but he was not perturbed that he did not achieve universal approval. If some did not approve of him, that was their problem, not his.

TODAY I SHALL ...
... try to avoid using universal approval as the measure of my self-worth and avoid buying friendship and affection."

From the book Growing Each Day by Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski M.D.

For some practical suggestions on how to lose the excessive people pleasing habit, you may also wish to visit How to Stop Being a People Pleaser - wikiHow

Surrender Useless Fear

"'The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.'
--Franklin Delano Roosevelt

"This is a very true message. Fear can really set you back and keep you there. Fear can ruin your life, if you let it.

"There is, of course, healthy fear (which I call caution). The kind that keeps you safe, like from fire, or falling, or your 'sixth sense' of protection. This kind of fear is a wonderful tool.

"But the kind of fear that’s just a bad, irrational habit from childhood, the one that prevents you from changing or doing your best, the fear that freezes you in your tracks – is worthless. It exists only for itself. It must do anything it can in order to preserve itself. It will surface at the worst of times.

"I recommend just putting that kind of useless fear aside. Surrender it to God, and ask for it to be relieved.

"Let it burn in the fire of your energetic, productive, growing self."

--- Dr. Norris Chumley

Reality Favors Anachronisms

"Reality favors symmetries and slight anachronisms: Dahlmann had arrived at the sanatorium in a hackney coach and now a hackney coach was to take him to the Constitucion station. The first fresh tang of autumn, after the summer's oppressiveness, seemed like a symbol of his rescue and release from fever and death. The city, at seven in the morning, had not lost that air of an old house lent it by the night; the streets seemed like long vestibules, the plazas were like patios. Dahlmann recognized the city with joy on the edge of vertigo: a second before his eyes registered the phenomena themselves, he recalled the corners, the billboards, the modest variety of Buenos Aires. In the yellow light of the new day, all things returned to him...

"In a cafe on the Calle Brazil... there was an enormous cat which allowed itself to be caressed as if it were a disdainful divinity. He entered the cafe. There was the cat, asleep. He ordered a cup of coffee, slowly stirred in the sugar, sipped it (this pleasure had been denied him in the clinic), and thought as he smoothed the cat's black fur coat, that this contact was an illusion and that the two beings, man and cat, were as good as separated by a glass, for man lives in time, in succession, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of an instant..."

---from the short story, El Sur by one of my favorite authors, Jorge Luis Borges

Before the Law - from The Trial by Franz Kafka

Before the law stands a doorkeeper. To this doorkeeper there comes a man from the country and prays for admittance to the Law. But the doorkeeper says that he cannot grant admittance at the moment. The man thinks it over and asks if he will be allowed in later. "It is possible," says the doorkeeper, "but not at the moment."

Since the gate stands open as usual, and the doorkeeper steps to one side, the man stoops to peer through the gateway into the interior. Observing that, the doorkeeper laughs and says: "If you are so drawn to it, just try to go in despite my veto. But take note: I am powerful. And I am only the least of the doorkeepers. From hall to hall there is one doorkeeper after another, each more powerful than the last. The third doorkeeper is already so terrible that even I cannot bear to look at him."

These are difficulties the man from the country has not expected; the Law, he thinks, should surely be accessible at all times and to everyone, but as he now takes a closer look at the doorkeeper in his fur coat, with his big sharp nose and long thin, black Tartar beard, he decides that it is better to wait until he gets permission to enter.

The doorkeeper gives him a stool and lets him sit down at one side of the door. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be admitted, and wearies the doorkeeper by his importunity. The doorkeeper frequently has little interviews with him, asking him questions about his home and many other things, but the questions are put indifferently, as great lords put them, and always finish with the statement that he cannot be let in yet. The man, who has furnished himself with many things for his journey, sacrifices all he has, however valuable to the doorkeeper. The doorkeeper accepts everything, but always with the remark: "I am only taking it to keep you from thinking you have omitted anything."

During these many years the man fixes his attention almost continuously on the doorkeeper. He forgets the other doorkeepers, and this first one seems to him the sole obstacle preventing access to the Law. He curses his bad luck, in his early years boldly and loudly; later, as he grows old, he only grumbles to himself. He becomes childish, and since in his yearlong comtemplation of the doorkeeper he has come to know even the fleas in his fur collar, he begs the fleas to help him and to change the doorkeeper's mind. At length his eyesight begins to fail, and he does not know whether the world is darker or whether his eyes are only deceiving him. Yet in his darkness he is now aware of a radiance that streams inextinguishably from the gatway of the Law. Now he has not very long to live.

Before he dies, all his experiences in these long years gather themselves in his head to one point, a question he has not yet asked the doorkeeper. He waves him nearer since he can no longer raise his stiffening body. The doorkeeper has to bend low toward him, for the difference in height between them has altered much to the man's disadvantage. "What do you want to know now?" asks the doorkeeper; "you are insatiable." "Everyone strives to reach the Law," says the man, "so how does it happen that for all these many years no one but myself has ever begged for admittance?" The doorkeeper recognizes the man has reached his end, and, to let his failing senses catch the words, roars in his ear: "No one else could ever be admitted here, since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it."

---Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir

Here is a version narrated by Orson Welles

Magnificat of Mary

My soul sings in gratitude.
I'm dancing in the mystery of God.
The light of the Holy One is within me
and I am blessed, so truly blessed.

This goes deeper than human thinking.
I am filled with awe
at Love whose only condition
is to be received.

The gift is not for the proud,
for they have no room for it.
The strong and self-sufficient ones
don't have this awareness.

But those who know their emptiness
can rejoice in Love's fullness.

It's the Love that we are made for,
the reason for our being.

It fills our inmost heart space
and brings to birth in us, the Holy One.

--Joy Cowley, Auckland, New Zealand

Courtesy of the newsletter of Bishop John Shelby Spong who states that Ms. Cowley "understands the essential task of the modern disciple of Jesus to make yesterday's words capable of being understood in the words of the 21st century."

Here is the version we heard at mass today, the NAB translation of Luke 1:46-55.
46
And Mary said: "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
47
my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
48
For he has looked upon his handmaid's lowliness; behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.
49
The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.
50
His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him.
51
He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.
52
He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly.
53
The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty.
54
He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy,
55
according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

Dr. Jeffrey Schwartz' Four Steps

I am reading a book by Dr. Jeffrey Schwartz titled "The Mind and the Brain." In it he explains his Four Step Treatment for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Dr. Shwartz uses his clinical experience and quantum physics, mixes in Buddhist mindfulness meditation, and demonstrates that the immaterial "mind" can interact with and change the material "brain" -- contrary to what many scientists and philosophers contend. Great stuff.

Here is a summary of his Four Step Method, that seems to me to have more general application than simply treating OCD.

Step 1: RELABEL
Recognize that the intrusive obsessive thoughts and urges are caused by brain misfirings that are the RESULT OF OCD.

Step 2: REATTRIBUTE
Realize that the intensity and intrusiveness of the thought or urge is CAUSED BY OCD; it is probably related to a biochemical imbalance in the brain.

Step 3: REFOCUS
Work around the OCD thoughts by focusing your attention on something else, at least for a few minutes: DO ANOTHER BEHAVIOR.

Step 4: REVALUE
Do not take the OCD thought at face value. It is not significant in itself.

Undivided Attention in the Present Moment

"Many people aren't willing or able to pay undivided attention to kids, or to anything else in their lives... Many people aren't able to focus entirely on work when they're at work, and others aren't able to focus on school when they're there. It isn't always a question of attention deficit disorders, either--it's a question of choice...

"We've grown up in cultures that seem to value accomplishment of many things over all else, and we reward people who split their attention and efforts between several tasks...

"We hear a lot about 'living in the present moment,' and I'm completely convinced that the only way we truly can do so is by learning how to give our undivided attention to whatever it is that deserves that attention right now. Once we divide it, we lose out on much of what is bright and beautiful, right here, right now..."

From this Living Life Fully e-zine

Walt Whitman - " Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking"

1
OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears,
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man—yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.

2
Once, Paumanok,
When the snows had melted—when the lilac-scent was in the air, and the Fifth-month grass was growing,
Up this sea-shore, in some briers,
Two guests from Alabama—two together,
And their nest, and four light-green eggs, spotted with brown,
And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand,
And every day the she-bird, crouch’d on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,
And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them, 30
Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.

3
Shine! shine! shine!
Pour down your warmth, great Sun!
While we bask—we two together.

Two together!
Winds blow South, or winds blow North,
Day come white, or night come black,
Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all time, minding no time,
While we two keep together.

4
Till of a sudden,
May-be kill’d, unknown to her mate,
One forenoon the she-bird crouch’d not on the nest,
Nor return’d that afternoon, nor the next,
Nor ever appear’d again.

And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the sea,
And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer weather,
Over the hoarse surging of the sea,
Or flitting from brier to brier by day,
I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the he-bird, 50
The solitary guest from Alabama.

5

Blow! blow! blow!
Blow up, sea-winds, along Paumanok’s shore!
I wait and I wait, till you blow my mate to me.

6
Yes, when the stars glisten’d,
All night long, on the prong of a moss-scallop’d stake,
Down, almost amid the slapping waves,
Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears.

He call’d on his mate;
He pour’d forth the meanings which I, of all men, know.

Yes, my brother, I know;
The rest might not—but I have treasur’d every note;
For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the beach gliding,
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts,
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listen’d long and long.

Listen’d, to keep, to sing—now translating the notes,
Following you, my brother.

7
Soothe! soothe! soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind, embracing and lapping, every one close,
But my love soothes not me, not me.

Low hangs the moon—it rose late;
O it is lagging—O I think it is heavy with love, with love.

O madly the sea pushes, pushes upon the land,
With love—with love.

O night! do I not see my love fluttering out there among the breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?

Loud! loud! loud!
Loud I call to you, my love!

High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves;
Surely you must know who is here, is here;
You must know who I am, my love.

Low-hanging moon!
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?
O it is the shape, the shape of my mate!
O moon, do not keep her from me any longer.

Land! land! O land!
Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give me my mate back again, if you only would;
For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.

O rising stars!
Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.

O throat! O trembling throat!
Sound clearer through the atmosphere!
Pierce the woods, the earth;
Somewhere listening to catch you, must be the one I want.

Shake out, carols!
Solitary here—the night’s carols!
Carols of lonesome love! Death’s carols!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!
O, under that moon, where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless, despairing carols.

But soft! sink low;
Soft! let me just murmur;
And do you wait a moment, you husky-noised sea;
For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me,
So faint—I must be still, be still to listen;
But not altogether still, for then she might not come immediately to me.

Hither, my love!
Here I am! Here!
With this just-sustain’d note I announce myself to you;
This gentle call is for you, my love, for you.

Do not be decoy’d elsewhere!
That is the whistle of the wind—it is not my voice;
That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray;
Those are the shadows of leaves.

O darkness! O in vain!
O I am very sick and sorrowful.

O brown halo in the sky, near the moon, drooping upon the sea!
O troubled reflection in the sea!
O throat! O throbbing heart!
O all—and I singing uselessly, uselessly all the night.

Yet I murmur, murmur on!
O murmurs—you yourselves make me continue to sing, I know not why.

O past! O life! O songs of joy!
In the air—in the woods—over fields;
Loved! loved! loved! loved! loved!
But my love no more, no more with me!
We two together no more.

8
The aria sinking;
All else continuing—the stars shining,
The winds blowing—the notes of the bird continuous echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok’s shore, gray and rustling;
The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping, the face of the sea almost touching;
The boy extatic—with his bare feet the waves, with his hair the atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last tumultuously bursting,
The aria’s meaning, the ears, the Soul, swiftly depositing,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there—the trio—each uttering,
The undertone—the savage old mother, incessantly crying,
To the boy’s Soul’s questions sullenly timing—some drown’d secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard of love.

9
Demon or bird! (said the boy’s soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it mostly to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue’s use sleeping,
Now I have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for—I awake,
And already a thousand singers—a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me,
Never to die.

O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself—projecting me;
O solitary me, listening—nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you;
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night,
By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous’d—the fire, the sweet hell within,
The unknown want, the destiny of me.

O give me the clew! (it lurks in the night here somewhere;)
O if I am to have so much, let me have more!
O a word! O what is my destination? (I fear it is henceforth chaos;)
O how joys, dreads, convolutions, human shapes, and all shapes, spring as from graves around me!
O phantoms! you cover all the land and all the sea!
O I cannot see in the dimness whether you smile or frown upon me;
O vapor, a look, a word! O well-beloved!
O you dear women’s and men’s phantoms!

A word then, (for I will conquer it,)
The word final, superior to all,
Subtle, sent up—what is it?—I listen;
Are you whispering it, and have been all the time, you sea-waves?
Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands?

10
Whereto answering, the sea,
Delaying not, hurrying not,
Whisper’d me through the night, and very plainly before day-break,
Lisp’d to me the low and delicious word DEATH;
And again Death—ever Death, Death, Death,
Hissing melodious, neither like the bird, nor like my arous’d child’s heart,
But edging near, as privately for me, rustling at my feet,
Creeping thence steadily up to my ears, and laving me softly all over,
Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

Which I do not forget,
But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother,
That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok’s gray beach,
With the thousand responsive songs, at random,
My own songs, awaked from that hour;
And with them the key, the word up from the waves,
The word of the sweetest song, and all songs,
That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,
The sea whisper’d me.

_________________________
"'Out of the Cradle' remains a centerpiece of Whitman's poetry and poetics. In its poignant evocation of a lonely beach where a "curious boy" sits "peering, absorbing," hearing a mockingbird's natural cries of love and despair and feeling those notes turn to poems within him, "Out of the Cradle" embodies for many the Whitmanian poetic moment, the emotive origin and measure of his song." (quoted from this Mark Bauerlein article)

Below is a virtual movie of the great Walt Whitman reading his poem "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" First published in Leaves of Grass in 1900 (1 of 2)


part 2 of 2

The Pazzi Conspiracy

"On Easter Sunday, April 26, 1478, within the cavernous Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, as the Priest brought High Mass to a conclusion, assassin's blades brutally plunged into the bodies of two brothers, Giuliano and Lorenzo de' Medici. As the screams of horrified onlookers echoed under Brunelleschi's dome, Giuliano was stabbed nineteen times and died on the cathedral floor as his lifeblood spread beneath him like a grim shadow.

"His brother Lorenzo, after being stabbed in the neck, would fight free of his would-be assassins and survive. While chaos ensued within the cathedral, the alarm bells of Florence began to urgently toll their distress call that summoned all Florentines to repel an attempted coup d'etat taking place within the government palace against the Signoria. That tolling was echoed by every church throughout Florence and the surrounding countryside as the call went out and Florentines took to the streets to defend their Republic.

"In the hours and days that followed the sacrilegious attack on the Medici brothers and the assault on the Republic's government, a sinister conspiracy slowly uncoiled that would result in the violent deaths of most of the conspirators, the obliteration of one of Florence's richest families, the public execution of an Archbishop, a war, and a stain on the reputation of a Pope that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

"On that Easter Sunday Florentines were unaware of the hundreds of mercenary troops already within the borders of Tuscany, poised to invade the city at a signal that never came. They were unaware that the far-reaching conspiracy to assassinate the heads of Florence's premiere family and to seize its government by force included the Napolese and Papal thrones. They were unaware of the internal and international political maneuverings that led up to the conspiracy.

"Who were the authors of the Pazzi Conspiracy? What brought them to this desperate act? The answers to these questions began to come to light within days of the incident during the confessions of a hired soldier, and concluded by the discovery of a encrypted letter decoded over five hundred years later."

Read all about it in The Pazzi Conspiracy from which the foregoing is quoted.

Digging Into Our Spiritual Resources

" When someone hurts us, offends us, ignores us, or rejects us, a deep inner protest emerges. It can be rage or depression, desire to take revenge or an impulse to harm ourselves. We can feel a deep urge to wound those who have wounded us or to withdraw in a suicidal mood of self-rejection. Although these extreme reactions might seem exceptional, they are never far away from our hearts. During the long nights we often find ourselves brooding about words and actions we might have used in response to what others have said or done to us.

"It is precisely here that we have to dig deep into our spiritual resources and find the center within us, the center that lies beyond our need to hurt others or ourselves, where we are free to forgive and love."

---Henri Nouwen

A Time to Give and a Time to Receive

It is important to know when we can give attention and when we need attention. Often we are inclined to give, give, and give without ever asking anything in return. We may think that this is a sign of generosity or even heroism. But it might be little else than a proud attitude that says: "I don't need help from others. I only want to give." When we keep giving without receiving we burn out quickly. Only when we pay careful attention to our own physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual needs can we be, and remain, joyful givers.

There is a time to give and a time to receive. We need equal time for both if we want to live healthy lives.

---Henri Nouwen

Flood the Path with Light

God of our life, there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and weigh us down; when the road seems dreary and endless, the skies grey and threatening; when our lives have no music in them, and our hearts are lonely, and our souls have lost their courage. Flood the path with light, run our eyes to where the skies are full of promise; tune our hearts to brave music; give us the sense of comradeship with heroes and saints of every age; and so quicken our spirits that we may be able to encourage the souls of all who journey with us on the road of life...

--St. Augustine

My Italian Odyssey Photographs

Click on the picture to view a collection and slide show of my favorite fifty photos from my recent trip to Italy. If you set the slide duration to 6 seconds, the slide show takes five minutes.

Fear Strikes Out

Today's Quotation:

Fear can infect us early in life until eventually it cuts
a deep groove of apprehension in all our thinking.  To
counteract it, let faith, hope and courage enter your
thinking.  Fear is strong, but faith is stronger yet.

Norman Vincent Peale

Today's Meditation:

When we feel fear strongly, it's very difficult to remind ourselves that there are forces in this world that are stronger than fear. Fear tends to take control of us, to overwhelm us, to put us in a state in which we can notice only the fear. And in those circumstances, the fear tends to build on itself like a fire, growing as it catches hold of other parts of ourselves.

If we can keep our minds open to the idea that there are forces stronger than fear, though, we can provide ourselves with a way out of the fear. As I grow older, I find that I have ways to counteract fear when it appears, and most of them have to do with reminding myself of the reality of the "big picture" rather than focusing so strongly on the particular situation that's causing me fear.

Fear depends on our attention to survive. If we don't give it the attention that it needs, if we're able to focus our thoughts elsewhere and maintain our peace of mind, we're making sure that fear doesn't have the conditions that it needs in order to thrive. If I can focus on my faith in the good things in life, then my fear will not rise past a healthy level--and yes, a certain level of fear can be very healthy.

Faith does not mean a particular set of beliefs in God as defined by any particular religious groups. Faith is our knowledge that life and God are positive, loving forces that will take care of us, and that have been doing so since we arrived on this planet. Faith is the knowledge the the truths in life are stronger than the lies that many people spread in an attempt to gain whatever they need or want for themselves.

Fear is as strong as we let it be. Faith is the same way. Which do you choose to be the stronger force in your life?

from http://www.livinglifefully.com/

The Love That Empowers Growth

"We need to begin to see God and ... Christ ... not as that which rescues us from a fall and a sense of depravity (which basically creates in us guilt and a sense of worthlessness that we constantly transfer to the victims of our prejudice), but to see God and ... Christ ... as the love that empowers us to grow into new dimensions of what it means to be human. It is a shift from guilt to grace; from the need to victimize to the ability to affirm the divine in all things... Being one with nature and transcending self-consciousness in order to move into a universal consciousness is the future hope."

– John Shelby Spong

The Ink Dark Moon

Nothing
in the world
is usual today.
This is
the first morning.
*
Come quickly—as soon as
these blossoms open,
they fall.
This world exists
as a sheen of dew on flowers.
*
Even though
these pine trees
keep their original color,
everything green
is different in spring.
*
Seeing you is the thread
that ties me to this life—
If that knot
were cut this moment,
I'd have no regret.
*
Sleeplessly
I watch over
the spring night—
but no amount of guarding
is enough to make it stay.

--- from the Ink Dark Moon by Izumi Shikibu

Born around the year 974, Izumi Shikubu "lived and wrote during the golden period of Japan's Heian court... While in service to a former empress at the court, she had a passionate affair with the empress's stepson. Poems played a key role in such affairs ('the first intimation of a new romance for a woman of the court was the arrival at her door of a messenger bearing a five-line poem in an unfamiliar hand'), and in this climate, Shikibu wrote the verse that guaranteed her place as Japan's major woman poet. Her famous Diary tells of her significant love affair with Prince Atsumichi. Their five-year relationship, which ended when he died, began with his gift of a spray of orange blossoms."

from Knopf Doubleday - Poem-a-Day.

Writing to Save the Day

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.

---Henri Nouwen

Hatchy Milatchy - A Wonderful Place That You Really Should See

There's a wonderful place that you really should see called the Land of Hatchy Milatchy. These are the opening lines to an infectious theme song whirling in a childhood memory.

Michael Apichella waxes wonderfully nostalgic in Everything I need to know I learned on 'Hatchy Milatchy', remarking:

The popular coal-region TV show planted four seeds in the minds of the kids who watched it: a sense of community, an awareness of beauty, a love of music and a delight in adventure... The core messages of the program remain relevant: good overcomes evil, perseverance pays off, virtue is its own reward, to name but a few...

On your birthday you would tune into Hatchy Milatchy and Miss Judy would say "Happy Birthday to Mark Rizzo in the Bellevue section of Scranton. He's 4 years old today. Now Mark, if you look under the brown plaid sofa in the living room, I think that you will like what you find." And of course, miraculously, there it was! Under the sofa was the plastic rifle that shot ping pong balls! Just what I wanted...

"Hatchy Milatchy" gave me a lifelong love of classical music, storytelling and adventure... Nothing could beat the story of African-American John Henry and his heroic battle in the cause of human dignity against the soulless hammer machine, except, perhaps, the shocking anti-Nazi cartoon, "Tulips Shall Grow."If you have access to the Internet, these "Hatchy Milatchy" features will bring back the magic of the program. Log on to:

http://bit.ly/bWJtR5

http://bit.ly/bQCVp2

http://bit.ly/cwwgkD

...It's the gentle, carefree and true things of life that really matter, the things that Miss Nancy and Miss Judy tried to teach us all those years ago in "The Land of Hatchy Milatchy."

According to CoalSpeak: a Dictionary of the Coal Region, Hatchy Milatchy was a popular children's show on WNEP-TV (Scranton/Wilkes-Barre) in the 1960's and 70's. Hosted by Miss Judy (real name: Lois Burns). The theme song was a popular song sung by Rosemary Clooney. Miss Judy lipsync'd to Rosemary Clooney at the beginning of each show.

Hatchy Milatchy is the inspiration for Fundle Bundle, a fictional television show featured in in episode 2.24 of the The Office, "Take Your Daughter to Work Day".

As a child, both Michael Scott and Chet Montgomery were on the show, which was hosted by a Ms. Trudy. The clips in "The Office" show a puppet cat interviewing children about their hopes and future dreams.

Here are the lyrics in all their glory:

There's a wonderful place that you really should see
Called the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
All boys and girls love this place yes siree
Called the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Peppermint candy and ice cream is free
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Soda pop fountains are under each tree
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Everyone rides on a-merry-go-round
All made of sugar and spice
Lollipops grow right out of the ground
The moon's made of strawberry ice
If you should run and you trip and you fall
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
The ground's made of rubber you bounce like a ball
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy

Oh you-play the whole day and you don't go to bed
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Mommies and Daddies are put there instead
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Hundreds of bunnies lay Easter eggs
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Ride on a pony with candy strip legs
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy
Each day is always a big holiday
Birthdays and parties galore
Dollies and bicycles given away
Whenever you walk in a store
When I return then I never will leave
The Land of Hatchy Milatchy
If you want to go all you do is believe
In the Land of Hatchy Milatchy.

To Lead People, Walk Beside Them

To lead people, walk beside them … As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people honor and praise. The next, the people fear; and the next, the people hate … When the best leader’s work is done the people say, ‘We did it ourselves!
--Lao-Tsu

If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader.
--John Quincy Adams

Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, concerned citizens can change world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.
--Margaret Mead

From this collection of Great Quotes on Leadership

Aunt Jeanne's Madrid Moon

They say you can't go home again, but on a recent trip back to Scranton to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday, while rummaging through a large box of papers and photos and mementos and junk stored in a forgotten closet, I found a gem - the travelogue ramblings of my Aunt Jeanne (God rest her soul). My Aunt Jeanne was unique, a heady, crazy mixture of love, intellectuality, non-conformity and fun. Jeanne led many lives during the course of one that ended sadly in a fog of Alzheimer's disease. She was a nurse, teacher, handwriting analyst, lecturer, humorist, therapist, friend and life saver. Jeanne converted an old barn into a nursery school, founded and held country dances for the Singles Club of Northeastern Pennsylvania, and on and on.

Aunt Jeanne took a trip to Madrid to visit her son, George. This is her account of the trip, transcribed as I found it from her hand scribbled lovingly on both sides of three sheets of 14 inch legal pad paper discovered in a musty old box one weekend in March in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

Madrid Madness

As we boarded the overstuffed bird, 360 passengers, sandwiched aboard the Spantax, I was grimly aware that there would be a 7 1/2 hour interval between sky and land. The joy of coming together with Jord, overshadowed the Trigger of Time.

Marc, a left-over 60’s hippie sat next to Mary and shared his crusade toward nuclear free cities. He was from Hoboken, New Jersey and he was off to a conference in Spain. He is a Lawyer, who is still umbilically attached to his ideals, while stuffing his coffers into Hoboken First National to protect himself from the acid rain.

Upon our arrival, like a praying mantis on his hind legs, we were brought in full view of Geord, the Aryan prince of Madrid. He stood tall amongst the cretin-like Spaniards. The moment we awaited was here – Santa Claus arrived and with Christmas hearts we touched hearts and hands with joy.

Madrid beckoned to us with happy surprises. Were we ready? Perhaps, but was Madrid ready for us?

We walked joyously arm in arm gaping at the paternal structures, sternly welcoming us. The feel of the city was strongly masculine with an aura of obedience and respect. Crossing the streets was maddening as the repressed anger of a country’s fascism permeated sickeningly the Franco mentality behind the wheel of a car.

An impotent bus driver was made more powerful by his dynamic thrust in our direction as we ran for cover as he turned a corner. George retaliated with a phalangeal gesture of both hands, and brought the Gestapo to his tails. As he was ushered to the impotent driver the honor of the worm was restored by Jord’s gracious apology. Masculinity was restored once more and all left the scene with their tails intact.

The majestic scenery and magnificent structures overloaded my senses at times. Country warmed by sun, less cluttered emotionally, as we wandered through the gardens of the Royal Palace, I envisioned Franco’s dwarf-like appearance addressing a nation of Spanish sheep. The Royal Guards survey the surroundings with clock-like cadence, as Mexican gold twinkles to the heavens. It’s hard to imagine how people could dance to one man’s drum, without question or revolt. But Franco is now ashes and the memory of power rings in the heads of other fascists eager to keep the Masses obedient by epic loyalty apparently kept hopes and fears alive by having people move in the direction of their option.

Geord’s apartment was an Experience of Bohemian-like qualities. One enters a Spanish Museum of Relics, Velasquez art and other paraphernalia of warmth and charm. “Bong-hit” welcomes us to his humble abode, and Josef has an opportunity to practice his English. Christine, George’s lovely Spanish Mona-Lisa girl friend, warmly welcomes us, as does Laura, the Jackson, Mississippi girl next door. One is able to appreciate the international flavor Geord is adapting to as we join together with café-con-leche communion.

As one does in any new country, the taste sensations are always of interest. To date I have immensely enjoyed the Spanish tortilla, Spanish pizza, and of course, the Chinese food with a Spanish touch. I enjoy shopping in the Mama and Papa grocery stores, that provide an option for the little man to have a business of his own.

Transportation for us has either been by foot – walk – walk – walk – stroll – stroll – stroll – or the metro. The metros here don’t have the vigilante quality of New York City. Perhaps the Fascism had kept people so repressed that the open quality of New York crime is not as prevalent. Cabs are reasonable and provide one with interesting dialogues. Cab drivers remind me of Henry Miller caricatures – squandered in the moment of their vehicles.

As Annie Cerminaro joins the Veglia Kobrick Cerminaro Entourage, it is hard to imagine that the Flour Bay Pants Co. is now trend setting on European soil. As e.e. cummings once said, “ Whatever you believe to be true – can come true- if only in the province of the mind.”

I did have a dream of Europe when I was encased in the perimeters of 15th and Alter, when I imagined the borders of Europe in the foyer of Yanick’s store. One corner was Italy, another France and another Spain. My imagination would project to those far-off lands as I slid corner to corner.

Here I am years later. My dream is indeed a reality – the miner’s daughter has left the earth and kissed the sky.

One adapts to the culture by an understanding of the Arts, so a visit to the Prado provided a unique understanding of Spain.

I was most impressed by Goya’s incredible personality expressed through his art. He reveals his inner life dramatically by his inner experience. At the end of his life cycle, he drew in dark colors and the vicious conflicts were expressed in hideous faces and grotesque figures. His art probably provided an outlet for his depression and fulminating madness.

El Greco was also impressive. I will never forget an El Greco because of his personification of black upon black. Also his hand always has two fingers held tightly together. Velasquez was seemingly impressed by dwarfs but in a kindly way. He gave importance to their idiocy by adorning them with large books.

The massive amount of religious art goes along with the obedience factor of the culture. Christ (the Tortured, masochistic, blood letter) predominates rather than the teaching, loving artist of life of my imagination.

The finale was the Guernica by Picasso – the Epitome of Symbolism and madness.

Does genius only come by permitting the edges to obliterate and the walk with No Exit unfolds the secrets of mankind.

The highlight of our journey was our day at Retiro Park where Geord, Annie and I performed for a captive audience. Geord unfolded the entertainment with a smorgasbord of Beatles, home-made renditions of Bojangles, Piano Man, etc. Annie brought dance by her art and I improvised a little bit of Living Love. We were joined by Earl – the expatriate journalist who is currently writing a book on Chi. He is a most interesting, dapper gentle person, who sees life as an ocean of love. The scenery was magnificent as all of Madrid strolled, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of Madrid.

One learns much from relating to the people who live their lives in a particular country. We were invited to Eduardo’s for a dinner with Laura and her father, Ed, a trauma physician from Jackson, Mississippi, Christine – George’s friend, Jaime – Eduardo’s brother. The dinner (cena) was elegant – paella, rice and chicken, tortilla, 7 bottles of wine, champagne, cider and of course, café con leche and pastries. They asked what I thought of Madrid. I stated, “It feels like a masculine city.” They thought that was a funny way of relating to a place. They then asked what I felt of their home – felt it was feminine. I felt these feelings not based on biology, but on feelings. The home was warm, sensitive, caring, comfortable (feminine qualities).

Jordi, a handsome Spaniard joined the group later and since George’s guitar was out of pick, they suggested night life exposure in Chueca. George – the Spaniard referred to me as Mrs. Robinson – He was only 22, and very flirtatious. He sat across from me in the bar and we philosophized a lot. He asked me whether I felt money was important. He’s studying to be a lawyer and would like to come to the U.S. He asked if I ever was poor – as he felt it was good to be poor for comparison. He said perhaps you will get married while here – Spanish men are very passionate. He expressed his desire to come to America – And here’s to you Mrs. Robinson.

Upon leaving Chueca, I felt a surge of fright – the characters in the street were non-ideological types – oddballs, rejects, hangers-on and chocolate specialists. We hailed cab after cab only to be passed through – moving us further in the direction of fear. Madrid felt cool by the moon of darkness and demons.

A Host of Golden Daffodils

A Host of Golden Daffodils
Originally uploaded by acerminaro

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

Stinking Thinking

Cognitive distortions are inaccurate thoughts that convince you of something that isn’t true. These inaccurate thoughts are usually used to reinforce negative thinking or emotions — telling yourself things that sound rational and accurate, but really only serve to keep you feeling bad about yourself. By refuting the negative thinking over and over again, it will slowly diminish overtime and be automatically replaced by more rational, balanced thinking.

This "stinking thinking" has held me in its grips at times. How about you?

Here is list common cognitive distortions:

1. Filtering. You magnify the negative aspects of a situation and filter out the positive aspects.

2. Polarized Thinking. You judge situation in absolute terms of “black-or-white.” For example, you think you must be perfect or you are a failure.

3. Overgeneralization. You come to a general conclusion based on a single incident or limited evidence. If something bad happens, you expect it to happen over and over again. You see a single, unpleasant event or series of events as a never-ending pattern of defeat. In extreme forms, you label others or events as "good" or "bad" based on this limited evidence.

4. Jumping to Conclusions... You think you know how others feel or why they act the way they do. For example, you may conclude that someone doesn't like you and not actually bother to find out if you are correct. Another example is when you anticipate that things will turn out a certain way, usually badly, and act as if your prediction is already an established fact.

5. Catastrophizing... You expect disaster to strike or may engage in “magnifying or minimizing.” For example, you might exaggerate the importance of insignificant events (such as your mistake, or someone else’s achievement).

6. Taking things personally. Thinking that you are the cause of what other people do or say or that things are done or said in reaction to you. You also may continually compare yourself to others trying to determine who is smarter, better looking, etc. You may see yourself as the cause of some unhealthy external event that you were not responsible for.

7. Control Fallacies. You may see yourself as a helpless victim of fate. Or you may assume responsibility for the pain and happiness of everyone around you. For example, “Why aren’t you happy? Is it because of something I did?”

8. Fallacy of Fairness. You feel resentful because you think you know what is fair, or think that "life should be fair." You apply a measuring ruler against every situation, judge its “fairness.” You often feel sad, angry, resentful or negative because of your judgment that something "just isn't fair."

9. Blaming. You hold other people responsible for your problems, or take the other tack and incorrectly blame yourself for the problems of others...

10. Should Thinking. You have a list of ironclad rules about how you and others should behave. You feel shame when you violate the rules. When other people break the rules you feel angry,frustrated or resentful.

11. Emotional Reasoning. You assume that your unhealthy emotions reflect reality “I feel it, therefore it must be true.” This can also occur with thoughts. You believe something to be true and assume, therefor, that it is true. [Our beliefs and assumptions always need to be tested for accuracy.]

12. Fallacy of Change. You expect other people to change to suit you, especially if you just pressure or cajole them enough. You think that your happiness depends on other people making changes.

13. Always Needing to Right. You act as if you are continually on trial to prove that your opinions and actions are correct. Being wrong is uncomfortable and you may go to extreme lengths to demonstrate that you are right and "they" are wrong. Being right is often more important than considering the feelings of others, even, and sometimes especially, your loved ones.

14. Heaven’s Reward Fallacy. You expect your sacrifice and self-denial to pay off with some reward, as if someone is keeping score. You feel bitter when the reward doesn’t come as and when you expect it to.

The foregoing is based on and is largely a rephrasing of this Psych Central article.