I awoke this morning thinking about a plastic frog. Yep, that’s right, a plastic frog – one that my youngest son gave me when he was about six years old. The memory made me giggle so deeply, that I had to jump out of bed lest I awaken my husband.
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My son had gone on a school trip to Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. When he returned, he excitedly presented me with a little bag. “I got a gift for you Mommy,” he said repeatedly as he jumped up and down. Well, when I looked in the bag and saw the frog, I didn’t know what to say. But, my youngest said it for me, “He has your favorite colors, Mommy.” And sure enough, the frog was green with shades of fall. I contained my laughter and told him I loved my frog (what mother wouldn’t?), and the colors were perfect!

With three sons, our home was often filled with creatures I’d rather only see in the yard (at best). At times, there were frogs, lizards, gerbils, mice, a prairie dog, rabbits (thankfully mostly outside) and dogs. At least the gifted frog was plastic.

This early morning reverie prompted me to think about my favorite gifts over the years. Many, like the frog, brought me laughter. How about yours?

I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions. I’m too much of a dreamer to faithfully keep promises - of more exercise or weight loss or whatever; but, 2016 left me raw and wanting. Did it you? Because of my experience this past year, I am inclined to make my first and only resolution for 2017. Maybe you’d like to join me. It is:

                             When times get crazy, I will focus on the plastic frog.

Have a Happy New Year’s dear friends, and may we all laugh often and love more.

In the early 1980's, I was part of a Catholic Peace Corp organization trying to do what I could to help others. Fran Kramer had also joined the same organization, and she and I became friends. We lost touch with one another over the years, but through our writing, we reconnected. Fran now lives in Hawaii, continues to write, and offers workshops on dreamwork. Today I offer a glimpse of her work; it seems particularly relevant as we begin this new year.......  

      One of the many benefits of remembering, recording and working with dreams is that it allows one a deep and profound window into the workings of the soul: one can see some of the many parts of the self which are often hidden, or in shadow, to the waking mind. It is a challenging undertaking but one that is indeed worth the effort of ongoing dreamwork.

We know that ignorance, misconceptions and lack of understanding all contribute to fear and evil. But more than any of these contributors to negative energy is our own ignorance of our unique blind spots. We like to think of ourselves as good or aligned with the good, making us often unable to see the evil in ourselves--or if we catch a glimpse of it, we often justify our negative actions by rationalizing that it serves a good purpose. Very few people who do evil believe they are doing evil. It is no wonder that the Buddha said ignorance is the root of all evil and Jesus asked the Father to forgive his executioners on the grounds that they didn't know what they were doing.
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The reality is that people who are not in touch with their deep inner selves will more likely be driven by inner forces, good or bad, in a way that leaves them pre-programmed like a computer, unable to act in an enlightened and choice-filled way. Dreamwork allows one to get to know those forces in a safe and conscious manner, and make better, conscious choices when strong energy comes on.

Working with a dream as if everything and every feeling in it represents a part of one's self or one's own energy is a way of owning and acknowledging that there is good and evil and other opposing voices residing within—all of which want recognition. By prayerfully reflecting on, and encouraging each thing or person in the dream to have a say in what's happening in one's life at the moment, one can go far in integrating all aspects of the psyche into a creative and functioning whole. In this way, evil is not acted out unreflectively or in ignorance, and the good within is not blindly projected onto others who don't deserve it.​

When I was a child, my sibs and I often stretched out on the grass at night. We’d wait and watch for shooting stars and otherwise try to find different constellations. Living deep in the country, by the fields of alfalfa and sugar beets, we had an especially good seat for star gazing.
There were no competing city lights; the darkness was virginal.

Children see possibilities where often adults do not. Under the dome of stars, they create imaginary adventures. To unknown lands they may travel, to the moon they may wander. And, during this holiday season, many of these youngsters talk of a birth that took place under the stars in a stable. The Christ event is real for these little ones; they have no problem imagining its splendor.

Time has passed much too quickly for those of us who now gather our grandchildren. But, under the starry skies we remember – the dreams once embraced, the hopes entertained, the gifts received and given. And so it is that I wish you, dear reader, a time of remembrance – of earlier days when trust came easily and the stars captured your imagination.  May the manger birth of centuries long past, open our hearts to the gifts of the season. And, may happiness be your blessing....as is beautifully expressed by author John W. Howell.
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A Wish by John W. Howell ©2016

To those who I know,
Include those I never met. . .
Happiness to you.

I’ve been traveling these last two weeks – to NYC and Connecticut, to San Diego and the vast Imperial Valley. I’ve been in and out of airports, rental cars and taxis, hotels and family homes, time zones and various weather conditions. It’s been a very full journey.

It may sound glamorous to travel from one coast to the other, but in my case the glitter was entirely a matter of the heart. Between hugs from grandchildren and conversations with my 90 year old mother, I experienced the jewels of life, and I returned grateful for all that life provides.

My Kindle accompanied me on this trip, loaded with books of many genres. I read four novels as I waited in airports and soared through the gray skies. And, as I neared Kansas City on my return flight, I thought about the gift that writers and artisans offer through their work. Much like extending a hand, they share a bit of themselves.

I’ve always been a reader, but retirement has given me the time to do more. In this brief posting today, I share four of the dozens of books that have left their mark on me this year. It is my way to say thank you to all of those who have touched me through their creation.

IF ONLY THERE WAS MUSIC by Nonnie Jules is a collection of poetry about love that cannot be realized, other than through dreams and the imagination. THE MERCHANT’S PEARL by Amie O’Brien is a very different love story. This powerful novel takes the reader into a harem and into the heart of one of the concubines. OUR JUSTICE is a suspense thriller that tackles the question of individual responsibility in our complicated world of terror. And, JAZZ BABY follows a young girl as she evolves into a woman, through the most challenging of situations.   

Each of these four books has haunting qualities and each has found a place in my heart. We are all connoisseurs of art through the books we read, the paintings we display in our homes, the carvings that adorn our shelves, and more. Our differing palates spark interest and stir conversation. These four books hold my attention – maybe yours too, and it is for that reason that I share them with you.

May your holidays be filled with all that is good in life, and may you discover an artisan's gift. ​

Nonnie Jules                Amie O'Brien                John Howell                Beem Weeks

Many years ago, I taught at a small Quaker College in the northeast. The curriculum was innovative in that during the four years, students were required to study in multiple countries. Rebecca, an Orthodox Jew, spent a semester in Israel. While there, she visited a Mosque, and the experience was transformative.

When she returned to the United States, she explained that she did not understand why there was so much animosity between Jews and Muslims. “They pray like we do,” she said tearfully. “We bleed like they do,” she continued. “Why the hate?”

Some of us may be able to answer Rebecca’s question, but I doubt any of us can provide the response for which she searches. The centuries of discord between people of different faiths have taken their toll, and for the most part, militants do not even know why they must kill – it defies rationality.

No one is innocent. Christians have killed and been killed, Muslims have killed and been killed, Jews have killed and been killed. And, always, there is a cry to the one God, the one true God.
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For any of us who believe in a loving Creator, it is difficult to fathom that this Creator could love one child and not another.

Politics can play games with the innocent, and some religious leaders teach hate; but, I deeply believe that the loving God who created each little child embraces one and all.

Recently, my daughter (a mom to two beautiful little boys) sent me a YouTube clip in which Palestinian mothers and Israeli mothers come together to pray for peace.  I invite you to watch this video.

Maybe our collective hope rests with the mothers of the world, for has anyone known more tears than they?

During this time of religious celebration, this time of gift-giving and heart-sharing, could we claim hope as our ultimate stance in life? Can we envision a world of peace, where all children are loved - the brown skinned and the white, the believers and the non-believers, the weathy and the deprived, the inner-city and the suburban. Who is so hardened that they can love one child and not the other?

​To the mothers marching and praying for peace, may your tears bear fruit and your hopes materialize. Peace, paz, satta, maluhia, shalom, santi, satta, udo, siochain, pace....with you I sing.

Bright lights and droves of shoppers, crowded subways and busy cabs, packed restaurants and street corner musicians … it’s Christmas in New York City and excitement itself is restless.

I’m with my sons, daughter and grandchildren this week. With travels in and around the City, I’ve revisited iconic buildings and shoreline fixtures. And over the days of walking, I’ve considered the “before this” and “after that” of life, as I used to live in this general area for about 25 years.

A quarter of a century covers a broad span of living; but, what I’ve realized is that time collapses with the passing of years, and precious moments emerge in splendor. The births of each of the children, the growing years and their Christmases – are part of the present through the hugs and kisses of their children.  

This afternoon I’m taking the older two grandkids to the Metropolitan Museum of Art – a favorite spot at the edge of Central Park. One of my sons and his bride will meet us there to walk its hallowed halls and to share awe and laughter.

I wish you and your loved ones a time to remember… the joys of life and its wonder.

​     Author and friend John Fioravanti has just published his fifth book. He has had a busy retirement, but he wouldn't change a thing. As the Vice President of the Rave Reviews Book Club, he works tirelessly and selflessly to help all writers in honing their skills. Because of his life of generosity, I asked him about his thoughts on happiness, ​and he responded with the following reflection.
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“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared."  ~ Buddha
 
​This well-known quote resonates with me in a powerful way, so I decided to explore the importance of applying it to our day-to-day living. It is a simple concept, yet it can be difficult to live this exhortation to share ourselves with the world.

Why is it difficult to share what is precious to us? In the quote above, Buddha zeroes in on that very issue. He says we are afraid that the sharing will diminish the gift. This observation is very astute. Sadly, it is true that our first instinct is to hold on to our treasures for fear that others will take them and leave us with nothing. It is understandable if you consider that for many millennia humans fought for survival in uncivilized circumstances. This instinct to keep what's ours is very deeply ingrained.

For over three decades, I taught in a Roman Catholic school system, where formal courses in religion were part of the official curriculum. For years, I taught at least one religion course per school year, and I recall that the concept of sharing had a prominent place in many formal lessons. Sharing is taught by many other world religions as well. It is clear that this act of sharing goes against our natural instincts and must, therefore, be taught and encouraged.
 
In this quote, Buddha is not speaking about sharing our material wealth, but rather, our interior happiness. When I consider this concept, my mind balks long enough to ask, “What is happiness?” 

Being a former educator, I sought out a definition for happiness from Mr. Dictionary. The source I used spoke of it as a 'state of contentment'.

In order to possess a degree of contentment, I must look within myself. I cannot buy that, or accept it as a gift from another. To be content is a state of mind; an attitude we adopt that allows us to be at peace with our circumstances, the people in our lives, and with ourselves. That means acceptance, and it must begin with me. I must be comfortable in my own skin, honestly aware of my shortcomings, and of my gifts and accomplishments as well. Acceptance requires this balance.
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Only when I am at peace with myself and my world, am I able to share my happiness with others. Then, I can speak kindly, perform acts of kindness, and generously give my time and attention to others. It is my experience that this type of giving is its own reward. As Buddha points out, I do not diminish my capacity for happiness by sharing it with those around me, by giving kindness and support to friends, family, and strangers alike. To the contrary, I am rewarded with increased happiness, and I feel better about myself.  What we give away returns a hundredfold.

Thank you for this beautiful reflection, John. During this season of giving, it is especially meaningful. 

​Contact information for John: website: www.fiorabooks.com; Twitter: @JohnJFioravanti; and Amazon - the image above is linked directly to the book.