A Parable

I will tell you an ancient story of the present.  Oh yes!  There was light then, but it was mostly the shadow light of fear. And when the storytellers of that time, told their stories, it made people afraid of life and living and unaware of the abundant choices they had at each precious moment. The people were smothered with tales of pain and greed, of violence and victims, of worry and fear. There was little enthusiasm, and few claimed the abundance that was their right.

Yes, the stories of that time were told and told well, with pictures and words and sounds, they were sometimes told as they were happening and often recorded to tell over and over again around the cold fire of the tube.

At the time no one realized that the constant bombardment of negative images and words without a positive balance and the continuity of context lowered the vibration of awareness. The frequency of understanding and the interconnection of each to the other was then hidden.

Instead of the gentle story greeting of “Once upon a choice,” each day of stories would begin with, “Good Evening Everyone – here (hear) now the news.”  People listened, they were informed, but they were not transformed.

Then, there came a time when the collective spirit of many people spoke in a clarion voice of love, and said, “Enough!” There is more to us than what you say. We are not fear based bodies; we are courage based spirits, and we choose it now.

And it came to pass that the storytellers of that time, stopped and listened to the collective human heart, the part that’s attuned to the divine and when they did humanity awakened to the essence and reality of balanced information.

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Debate 2016

Did you watch the debate? I did.

My ideal debate format is this.

No moderator, no audience.  Even though I think Lester Holt did a great job.

I would have the two presidential protagonists sit close to one another and just let them talk to each other and to us about their vision for America. Besides being civil and courteous, the one rule would be no “he said, he did”. No attack, no finger pointing.

I want to hear their hopes for the future, not out of context or quasi-factual accusations from the past. I want to be inspired, not mired in the morass of political speak. I want to hear how they hope to solve the great issues of our times. I want to know what sacrifices we all will have to make.

The candidates know what the predominate issues are. They know the concerns and the fears of the American people. They’ve been at this for over a year. Now talk to us. We’re smart enough to know you don’t know all the answers, but talk to us out of truth, be honest, be simple and be direct.

We’ve got difficult problems that need serious solutions. Most of us are tired of the bickering, the pork, the do-nothing Washington.

Let us feel the beat of your heart in direct words. Give us straight talk, not political or partisan poppycock and then each of you would truly be presidential and WE THE PEOPLE, would be energized, engaged and enthused and informed.

 

 

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A Nomadic Youth

A few years ago I met a young man at dinner. He was my waiter. A free spirit. A nomad. A traveler on the road of life. I’ve often wondered what happened to him as he aged in experience and wisdom.

At the time, my guess was that he was in his mid-twenties given all the cities and restaurants in which he said he had worked. He was an oenophile, a gourmand, and an adventurer.

Kind of an Indiana Jones character without the education. I don’t think he went to college, but that didn’t matter to him. He was high on life.

His philosophy was youthful, yet seemingly wise. He shared his hopes and wishes, his dreams too, but none of his worries. I said to him his nomadic life was a great way to spend a few years.

He responded, “it’s a great way to spend a life.”

He many ways he’s right. Life is there for us to enjoy, but then we get caught up in things like responsibilities, earning a living, planning for a future we are never really sure will come and when it does come we’re not the person we thought we be.

I was so surprised when I noticed in my older years; I became my Father. I cleared my throat like him. I walked like him. My hair turned gray like him. I even used his wise phrases in conversation.

I’m glad there are still people out there who see their life as endless and free. We need dreamers and wanderers for they keep the rest of us in a state of wonder.

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UN week

It’s UN week in Manhattan and the east side is always a mess. It seems like everything is closed off for the international dignitaries to get to and from their hotels.

I go where they do not go; underground into the subways. Most of the notable diplomats use limos. When our President attends traffic stops. You can walk faster than traffic on the east side avenues.

One time during UN week I happened to have lunch at a popular east side restaurant. I sat next to two Russian gentlemen who split a bottle of vodka. They drank it like wine. I was impressed. They walked out of the restaurant in a straight line.

During this week every year the avenues and cross streets are filled with pedestrian foreigners with cameras and chatter. I did stop into an Apple Store and it was filled with foreigners buying, buying and buying.

Down in the subways it’s a different story, but a familiar one to New Yorkers. There are people in shorts and suits, with ear buds and ear phones, eating and sleeping, standing and sitting, talking and staring, old, young and everything in-between.

If you want to experience New York, you must ride the subway.

If you want to experience New York as a global city come anytime, but especially during UN week.

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