Celebrating: These two impish spirit moments…

First, I was peeing in the bathroom next to Zane’s bedroom. Through the door to his room a remote-controlled monster truck the size of a bedpan came jumping over the threshold. It stopped and turned in my direction and suddenly whizzed toward me. Still mid-urination I couldn’t move. 

This little monster truck ran right up over my left foot, which caused it to turn toward me. From there it revved and revved, humping my ankle.

I quickly finished  had to do some extra cleaning because my aim had been compromised, thank you very much  and marched around the corner into Zane’s room.

There he stood giggling so maniacally I thought he might vibrate into another dimension.

I’m glad he didn’t; it would take string theorists to get him back and that might take awhile.

Second, later that night. Ann and I were standing in front of one of the couches in our living room, admiring the Christmas tree we’d just set up. 

We heard it. The whizzing little loaded-diaper-sized monster truck. It wheeled around the couch and slammed into our feet. We glanced down and saw this (pay attention to the note):

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 . . . impish spirit moments, where lighthearted exuberance is on display. 

They’re multiplying.

(maybe because I’m noticing)


. . . yet only seekers find it

This thing we tell of can never be found by seeking, yet only seekers find it.
~ Abu Yazid al-Bistami

Hey hey, what are you going to create today?


a meal worth eating?

a smile in a stranger?

a connection?

a more vibrant you (by taking yourself for a walk or bike ride)?

space and order?

a charitable moment?

an expression of yourself in business or art or life?

a conversation worth having?

a reveling in the silence?



We’ve been gifted: A world of wheee

We alive today have been gifted with wheels, TV stations, planes, not having to farm if you don’t want to, not having to hunt if it’s not your thing, not having to gather if bending over often overtaxes you . . .

We don’t have to invent the rice cooker, telephones . . .

In this era, whatever we think hardship is, it’s not. Impoverished? Try doing that three thousand years ago. A hundred years ago. Dying of a disease? Imagine the same thing, medievally.

(We’ve been gifted with trains, tractors, tonsillectomies . . . )

Can you imagine in the Western world waking on a hard rough earth, feeling the first blasts of winter . . . and having to scour the landscape for the animal that will be your winter coat?

( . . . sailboats, the idea that you can attain your dreams, digital devices including the one you’re on now . . . )

Personally, thanks to family, we were gifted with assistance in a time of need. Personally, thanks to bio-engineering through orthodontics, I’ve been gifted with non-British Isles teeth though genetically I should have had them  the odd tooth here and there  virtually sprouting from my lips. Personally, thanks to our culture, I’ve been gifted with the ability to make my own unique contribution toward the greater whole, in whatever way I choose.

(. . . microwaves and groceries and condoms that mostly work . . . )

This is a world of wheeeee!  

Admit it, fess up, this world we’ve got here aint so bad now.

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A thing for today

Here’s a thing to try today: Unexpectedly smile at someone in passing.


You exude the avatars you internalize

My friend Jeannine Perlman  Jah-Woman  has inspired a number of posts here. It makes sense, she was in my Dreamers Club, a spiritual growth group. There I came to appreciate her profound and quietly gushing spirit.

Since then I’ve interviewed her. It took some coaxing, she doesn’t see as quickly what she possesses, what others see. 

In the interview Jeannine professed to a spirit crush on Sri Anandamiya Ma, the Hindu saint known as the bliss-permeated mother. Though Sri Anandamiya Ma gained spiritual fame for her teachings, for her inclusion of women among her top disciples, for her tireless yet tranquil pace  for decades she never stayed in one place more than two weeks  it was her darshan that people sought out.

Darshan is a tricky work to translate. It can mean blessing, the way a priest will bless you. It can mean perceiving, specifically perceiving the divine, often in another and especially in the presence of an exalted spiritual figure. In another variation it can mean radiance, the way one connected to spirit radiates the sublime.

I bring this up because Jah-Woman  who reveres Sri Anandamiya Ma, one known for the joy and purity she emanates  also exudes some kind of powerful love-n-peace vibe. You spend a little time talking things spiritual with her and you find yourself enveloped in a heady buzz of goodness.

In her own way, Jeannine gives darshan to those who meet her.

Jeannine’s quietly uplifting presence alerted me to this principle:

You take on the characteristics of those whom you internalize.

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OmJah! My newest latest greatest pet name (for the divine)

In Hindu thought Om is the sound of creation. Om is the feeling-tone of the immaterial. Om reflects the inexpressible and is our doorway into ultimate reality. It encompasses the before, during and after of this universe in its long drawn out utterance: aaaauuuuummmmm.

Jah to me is mystical playful, with enough of a wisp of the implied feminine to it to satisfy my need for neither/either/both male-female in the divine. 

Derived from the Hebrew scriptural term Jehovah and reinvigorated in Rastafarianism, Jah became universal through reggae. 

There’s something countercultural and offbeat about Jah through this musical association. Reggae with its emphasis on the third beat, the off-beat, rather than the first beat as in most other forms of popular music and its messages of love and redemption, weed and social commitment is earthy and transcendent at the same time.


My latest pet name for the divine. When I speak to my Source out loud on the way to work these days, I start with OmJah, expand in me today . . . .

When I feel a playful spirit within me, OmJah.

OmJah is good to have in your pocket when all the other terms fail to stir you . . . .

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Streetlight at night

I went for a walk with my friend Gil the other night . . . as I waited for him outside his home the streetlight outside powered down to just an ember. It was nothing but a tendril of orange heat glowing in the dark. 
I whipped out my phone to take a photo and the light burst back on . . .

If you’ve ever gone hungry for a day or two then you know that common food you once took for granted becomes magnificent upon eating again.

So it was with this streetlight.

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My latest spirit stone is a shell

Long before I saw Lee Brower speak about his gratitude rock in The Secret I’ve had an affinity for spirit stones. You likely have too.

It’s a universal inclination to grab onto a personal talisman that grounds you to things elemental. 

Women have jewelry. We men have to work at it a little harder. Except for Deppian pirates and Jersey Shorers we don’t tend to wear things about our neck or wrists or fingers, sacred or otherwise.

Before Lee Brower spoke about touching/seeing his gratitude rock and instantly reminding himself about that for which he was grateful, I kept a couple of stones, one smooth as polished metal, the other rough and pitted. I liked the polarity. It felt as if the spectrum of life lay in between. 

Though I kept them mostly at my desk, to contemplate when I felt the need for grounding, at times I’d go to work on Wall Street with one in either pocket  the better to balance and activate the poles of my life. At the time I was business-centric by day and a creative expressionist by night. (I still am!)

Lee Brower gave me a different sense of my personal stones. After viewing his profound story I tended to keep a favorite spirit stone in my pocket all the time as I went about my day. 

For me the spirit stones ground me in Spirit. They are access points to LoveJoy in the midst of a happening life!

Interesting how things break and fall apart, and sometimes you get an unmistakable sign of an impending rupture in your life.

Around the time of the 2008 crash, before our family and business underwent its upheaval (you can read about it here, here and here. Oh, and here if you want a little follow up), I dropped my spirit stone on our tile floor. It cracked in half, this sleek gray stone . . . and I was temporarily brokenhearted.

I interpreted it this way  the obvious reading  that our lives were in for dramatic re-invention. Though I tried to spin it positively, it didn’t feel like the break in our lives was going to be as clean. In retrospect it was a sharp clear break from what came before . . . .

Yesterday my son and a friend of his and I hiked down the beach to the pier. The ocean was turbulent and Zane had great fun being body slammed by the waves breaching the beach and sweeping him off his feet. His friend, more timid, stayed above the waterline.

Though the hard-charging surf had denuded the beach of most everything, the two spirit stones you see above were there for me. One large and pocked for my desk  a stone; the other  light and smoothly curvilinear, perfect for my pocket  a shell.

Writing you this . . . I’ve just realized . . . that my next phase of life must be at hand. These spirit stones found me on a day at the beach when no stones or shells were visible . . . obviously an announcement of something impossibly good to come.


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