The DeSoto in the Closet of my Soul.

Meditation isn’t always intense and full of drama but it has its moments. It is true that still waters run deep. By dedicating myself, humbly, to the process of meditation I’ve been able to drag several, DeSoto, sized, obstacles from my soul’s closet and into the light of awareness. I definitely feel as if my mortal load has been lightened. Good riddance.

For example, a good, friend got engaged and she and her fiancé were moving away. The sadness that I felt when I learned that they were leaving was a sadness that reflected something deeper in me than the notion of saying goodbye to a friend. My sadness was out of proportion to the circumstances. I used these feelings as a catalyst in my early meditations. Revelation came through a peeling away of the surface emotions and digging deeper. I soon realized that my out of proportion reactions to good-bye went back much, much further than my current circumstances. There was a little girl deep inside who didn’t understand that saying goodbye is part of life. I found her, explained some things and now she gets it. She still doesn’t like it but she gets it.

I was thirty nine when I embarked on this spiritual adventure. I had made many half hearted attempts in the past, generally when the proverbial shit was hitting the proverbial fan but this time I decided to fully and indefinitely commit. Sitting quietly for forty five minutes was a challenge at first but after a few sessions I began to look forward to it. The first few times I meditated I’d sit with my eyes closed for what seemed like an hour only to take a peek at the clock and realize that ten minutes had passed. After a few sessions I was able to still myself to the point that when I finally peeked at the clock more than an hour had passed. Eventually I stopped thinking about the clock entirely.

The more I am able to ‘let go’ the deeper my stillness becomes. I use two techniques to relax and still myself physically and spiritually. Both techniques require me to sit comfortably, back straight, shoulders down and back (sit up straight) with my eyes closed. In the first technique I imagine a current similar to a river originating in my solar plexus and exiting through my extremities, hands, feet, groin and head. As I imagine the flow of the current I repeat the phrase, “let go.” I imagine the current flowing out of me taking every trace of negativity that is in me along with it. The second technique is similar to the first. The difference is in the second I imagine that my body is permeable and I imagine love blowing through me like a summer breeze across a screened porch. When I get to the place where I feel conducive I still my thoughts completely and I listen. I meditate in this fashion three to five times a week.

Lake Eola is a park located near Downtown, Orlando. It is located

between my house and the Metro 24/7 gym. I walk to the gym at least three days a week for weight training. On my way home from my workout I sit beneath my favorite Live Oak and cypress trees beside Lake Eola and with the sun on my face I close my eyes and listen.

I must add that the very first thing I do when I sit down to meditate is reaffirm, out loud, that I am a child of the light and I ask that only revelations from the light, the maker, be allowed to influence me. To each his own here but I, personally, feel that we have to verbally claim our alliances and I choose light. The other side of the veil is no place for a mortal without a spiritual guide. We don't drive to the airport, buy a ticket and FLY the plane. We rely on the pilot because he knows more than us. It's all the same.

Pitfalls of Freelancing as a Scenic Artist

I am a scenic artist. I have earned this title by traveling to the world’s amusement parks and smearing my blood, sweat and tears into every fake rock, board and cartoon flower I am hired to paint. Ok, blood and sweat, no crying but sometimes after a 12 hour day in the Orlando sun, when my knees revolt and my hands resemble paint covered claws, I imagine how it might feel if a cool tear slid down my cheek.

I just finished a gig at Animal Kingdom Lodge, Disney World.










Right this second I am dealing with a chump that doesn’t want to pay me for services rendered. The rub of any freelance job is that you have to do your bit up front. The gig has been finished for a week. When I completed the job I was paid 75% of my invoice. “I’m going to hold some money to make sure everything is ok,” was the explanation that I received from Ivan, CEO, Exterior Walls Inc. Huh-oh…this usually means trouble. So far we have settled 75% of what I am owed on three seperate occasions. Ivan always holds on to a little...just in case.

Time and again the most challenging part of freelance is getting paid for the gig. Bartering over money, a.k.a my worth, is my least favorite part of this process. Because it is my least favorite part and because I hold my self to a very high standard as far as work ethics go I resent to my core having to beg for my pay. I try to remain "professional" but as time lags my evil starts to eek out. Today I called to collect my last, little, dribble of compensation and I got Ivan's voicemail. I'd rather set sail on the River Styx than play this game. Ivan, I'm sitting here in Limbo contemplating your demise. Who knew that the First Circle of Hell was in Orlando. It is futile to resist. I will not go away. I work all day, every day, out in the sun and the wind and the sand for FUN.

What doesn't kill you...

In April of 2005 my younger brother’s abdomen began to swell. He thought it was gas. He continued with his studies because he was taking finals trying to complete the requirements of his senior year at The University of Tennessee’s Law School. He expected to graduate in May. The swelling persisted and finally he succumbed and my mother took him to the ER at Erlanger in Chattanooga. Over the next few days we received information that would change our lives and break our hearts. He was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer with a zero percent chance of survival.

He was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in his early twenties and had battled the disease for years but at 31 he felt that he was over the hump and the worst was behind him. The dilemma with colon cancer is that it mimics the symptoms of colitis identically. Those who suffer from colitis get used to getting on with their day to day lives living in a perpetual state of, “I don’t feel good.” They get used to the fevers, aches and pains associated with the disease. This was the case with Jason and he didn’t recognize the moment when his colitis turned into cancer. When we finally realized what was going on it was too late to save him.

He fought for his life for six weeks and we stood on the front lines and fought along with him. In those last days when the odds were against him and the surgeons were shaking their heads it was paramount to him that we never gave up on him. In the end he knew that he had us and that we were fighting for him. That mattered so I say to everyone, when the time comes, make the effort. We were desperate to help him and I spent many sleepless nights researching endlessly, link after link, page after page hoping to find anything that might give him another chance. Cancer is hideous and I hope the day comes when no one has to face it. He laid down his sword and gave up the battle on June 6, 2006. It was through his noble demeanor during his struggle that I learned what grace is. I am proud of him.

I must add that he did manage to graduate with a Doctorate of Law. I made the trip from Chattanooga to Knoxville and met with his Dean. During his time at school he never complained of his illness so she was stunned to learn that not only did he have cancer but he was not going to survive. No one knew he was sick. She told me that indeed he had met his requirements and she was kind enough to give me his diploma. I presented it to him in ICU on the same day he was told he had 4-6 weeks to live. By then he had both cancer and pain medication flooding through his system so he was in and out a lot. He struggled to stay present and coherent forgetting the date or confusing reality with dreams but he never forgot that he was a UTK graduate. He was extremely proud of that. Dean Edmonds was kind enough to come to Cleveland and speak at Jason’s memorial. I’m still not certain how it all works when we cross over but I hope he got to see that.

Initially I was going to focus this blog around the changes I've made in my diet after experiencing the loss of my brother. I’ve decided to write from the broadened perpsective that comes from confronting death and how that confrontation can be used to initiate a positive change in every aspect of one's life. Our family tapestry has a hole beyond mending. Our world was dimmed. I've spent the last two years living as if I have been superimposed on life. Even so, life goes on. Jason would expect us to go on as well. I know he’s in a better place and I know I’ll see him when I get there. Until then I’ll dangle here among the mortals.

What do you do when you get to the end of your rope?
Tie a knot and hold on.