Seven Years Ago

Seven Years Ago

It was a Saturday morning. We had my mom’s special Italian eggs with peepers and onions with some steak fries on the side for brunch, delicious as usual. We were going to visit a new place my mom had heard about named Peddlers Village in New Hope Pennsylvania. I was ten years old at the time and like on most of our road trips, I was asked to take out the map and navigate our way there. Mind you I do not think I had been to Pennsylvania yet in my life but my mom always treated me as a person, not a little helpless child that needed to be coddled and bundled up in the winter and frozen solid with air conditioning in the summer. This day was perfect- sunny 70 something degrees and the sky was clear; no need to bundle up or crank the air conditioner in the car. We drove her old Chevy Impala with the windows open, which made map reading a challenge but there were enough traffic lights to work it out.

We spent the afternoon walking around and munching on fresh-made kettle Peanut Brittle. The little shops and snack bars were fun, we felt like we were in a different time and place. This was before New Hope became a tourist trap for New Agers and Peddlers Village turned into pseudo-Amish Village. We had a great day. We ate some dinner there before heading back. I think we had some kind of special meat sandwich on fresh marble rye. On the way home, I bailed on my navigators duties and fell asleep for most of Route 206 but woke up by the time she needed an update. We stopped at the locally owned Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream down the street from our home and I got Jamoca my favorite. These are the kinds of days that I think about when I think of my mom. There were many that were nothing like this but these carry most the most strength for me.

It was seven years ago today that her body had had enough. It was a Monday around noontime. I had been back in jersey and trying to support my mom during her final half year. I worked and lived at 300 hundred year old former Inn that was a renovated restaurant that a buddy was the chef and manager. He started chemo and radiation for throat cancer while my mom was eroding away from the cancer that started when I was just a little older than that day at Peddlers Village. She had fought that thing for about thirty years! Enough was enough. I was helping this attractive wealthy woman when the call came: it was my Cousin Jackie. She didn’t have to say a word; her tears and energy told the story that I already knew the ending six months earlier. The doctors said she had several years, “She is a fighter!” her oncologist said. I knew in my belly it was time to stop fighting; the fight was over.

During those last few months, the memory of my mom was hard to bring to focus. She had lost most of her memory and faculties due to the large quantities of morphine being dripped into her system. When I was sitting next to her, she would say, “You know my son Michael is on the phone. He moved all the way to New Jersey just to stay with me. He is such a great kid. They all say he is selfish and doesn’t care about his family but he walks five to ten miles every time he comes to see me. That’s my son Michael, never the easy way but he stands for what he believes.” She would dose off. The next day I would be on the phone with her, “You know my son Michael walked all day in the rain and wind to come see me today? He is such a good-looking guy. I feel so bad he has never gotten married but we always knew, even when he was a kid that he would never marry. He was always so determined to do what he needed to do. Nobody ever could tell him what to do. Not my Michael. I wish he had married a nice girl though, somebody to take care of him. Such a shame. He works so hard with those messed up kids in Wisconsin or wherever he lives. He is so good with them but he still needs a woman to help him out. He gets lonely even though he says he doesn't. I am his mother and I know. Ok, I better get off the phone, I do not want to keep him waiting after walking all that way.”

About a month before she passed, I brought my two nephews and their mother, my brother’s widow, to see her. They had not seen her much since she had regressed so much. She did not know who they were. She raised them and didn’t know who they were. They cried. I did worse. To see these boys witness my mom, their Gramma like that was devastating to me. Still is. They did not see her again after that night.

Tonight I lit a candle for her. I prayed for her and thanked her. Most of what is good about me came from her. It took many years to come to the surface but it clearly has her stamp on it. She was the fighter that showed me how to fight. She was the cook that demonstrated food as love to be shared and cherished. She was the one who let me know I am worth it so I can do that with for others. She was the one who loved me during the Hell years and the aftermath that followed, giving me hope that I would again be lovable some day. I am.

I miss her. More than I let myself know or feel. Too painful. I pretend I am Ok because it is the only thing I know how to do. I miss her. I miss her.

Mom. I miss you. They do too. You are not forgotten. Never will be. Thank you for being my mom. I love you.

Your son Michael

Eyes Open

Eyes Open

I had the opportunity earlier this month to participate in a Reiki Meet Up in Seoul, South Korea. Since Reiki is not very popular here in Korea, I was excited at the opportunity to share and receive some Reiki, and meet some good people. I was not disappointed. The group had lots of positive energy and everybody was respectful of each other. I felt welcomed from the minute I arrived and as usual, as a male, I was in the minority. I was grateful there was another male present, the group facilitator. In all, the group was made up of nine people; a few had never experienced Reiki previously and seemed to have very positive experiences. As is typically the case, I find the “proof” of Reiki success is in the change in the color and brightness of the eyes, cheeks and skin of each person as they slowly eased off the table. Our face and energy say what we are not always able to communicate verbally.

It was during the actual “table time” itself that has caught my attention and reflection since then. I have been fortunate to receive training from a very dedicated and focused Reiki Teaching Master who I think would prefer to stay anonymous, so I will honor that intention. She has instilled in me the wisdom of utilizing all our resources to support someone’s process. I am speaking specifically about using the eyes as a means of transmitting Reiki. I leave my eyes open when working with someone else. I know this has become rare these days in the Reiki community but I have had enough experience to convince me of its merits. In fact, I consciously ask for Reiki to flow through the eyes, belly, root, feet,and the hands, and of course the heart center. Why place limits on Reiki? I find using all three eyes increases the intensity of the energy. My experience is that the eyes are more powerful than the hands, almost without except. The energy tends to be cleaner and tighter. I know others access their eyes during Reiki counseling, I do not understand why it is not consciously included during hands-on work. That is none of my business. I do what I do because it has been effective for me, and those I have been fortunate to pass on Reiki Teachings.

Another added benefit besides the increased energy is increased focus. My experience has been that I am more present and focused when I look at whom and where the energy is directed. My whole Self is present. I do not drift and space out as much as I used to with my eyes closed. I do not get lost in my own stuff, or get caught up in things that I do not need to be getting involved in when working with someone else. Like most Reiki Practitioners, I take our responsibility serious and try my best to honor and respect those who have been sent our way. I feel if I can stay present even a pinch more, it is worth my effort.

A third reason I appreciate working with my eyes open is the added opportunity to “see” the physical effects of the session. Seeing their breathing slow, the body relax, eyes stop twitching, belly rising and lowering naturally and all the other physical signs that I missed with my eyes closed. Since I first received Reiki Attunements and training, I have sensed what other's process and systems functioning. This is an inner process and supports the core of Reiki for me. I am grateful I have been guided to not stop there and include visual evidence of what is happening as well. Again, why limit the possibilities? I do not say this from the perspective that I do not have enough faith in Reiki to do what it needs to do, like most of us; I have experienced and witnessed shifts, changes and transitions that cannot be accurately described due to their at times miraculous nature. Reiki has changed my life and I have significantly more Faith in Reiki than myself. That is why I want to give myself every opportunity to stay focused, present, engaged and aligned with the Reiki lineage as much as possible. Reiki is an honor and I want to embrace that honor to whatever lengths I can. I know there has been questions and conversations about how much intention matters in Reiki but my experiences to date strongly support the power of intention and its effectiveness. If my intention is to include my whole body and being in the process, how can it not increase the effectiveness of the process for all involved? If folks ask for Reiki to pass through their hands, why stop there?

This is not to judge or disrespect any other method that we practice as Reiki Practitioners; I am just sharing my experiences. This reflection came about from this Reiki Meet Up I participated in when folks were sharing about their process and how they didn’t know where their hands were, or where other's hands were, etc. Keeping our eyes open and still maintaining our connection to the Source of Reiki seems a positive way to support our work. I hope for those who give it a try find the same positive effects that I have experienced.

Peace and love,
michael

Hope is in The Eyes

Eyes. Eyes are where I see hope and inspiration. Words often feel like a bridge but not the actual thing itself. Eyes tell the true story for me.

Lately I have had the opportunity to stare into the eyes of many young and beautiful children that can't communicate beyond "Hello" and "Goodbye" with me due to language barriers. It is such a powerful experience to share love, gratitude and connection through eye contact, bowing and holding hands or hugging. It really shreds away all the other stuff that often gets in the way.

Soft eyes that are not filled with propaganda and the illusion of needing more and better also have inspired me lately. The bulk of the youth here in South Korea are wholesome, even innocent in many ways. It is not as much that they are naive; it is more actual wholesome instincts that are cultivated through their families, communities, schools and culture as a whole. They would rather be hugged, smile and laugh than be cool, tough and walk around pouting to get their way. They genuinely want to be happy and share it with others. If I was a better author, I would be able to describe it more accurately. They are trusted and respected, and honor that respect with respecting others and trusting others.

An example would be that in a city of half million that I live in, all the florists in the neighborhood leave their most expensive plants out at night without locks and security. Kids are out till 10:00, 11:00 at night without supervision and nobody stares at them like they are bad and ready to do something wrong, and they don't. Young children below ten years old are out at night walking around, playing and running errands for their parents. Teenage girls walk home from their English, science and math academies after ten at night by themselves without fear and paranoia in their eyes. I have eaten in restaurants that the owner and only employee leave while you are eating to make a delivery without fear of being robbed or anything, they just smile on their way out and do their thing. You are respected regardless of who you are.

This all gives me hope. There is another way besides fear, power, sex and personal ambition. This gives me hope.

As a side note, not necessarily for his stance on issues or the fact that he is Black, but Obama gives me hope as well.

Peace and Hope,
michael

Oscar the Janitor

I started working for the Urban League of Greater Madison in October of 2003. The first project I worked on and the whole four plus years I worker there, was at a middle school here in Madison, Wisconsin.

After being at the school for a little while, I noticed one of the janitors. His name is Oscar and he is a beautiful man from Costa Rico. He has a dark complexion for a Costa Rican with a graying beard and sideburns and short wavy balding hair. He typically wears t-shirts with bright colors. His brown eyes are full and deep. He moved to the states many years ago as an adult. He is friendly in such a warm and genuine manner that it is hard not to want to be around him. To be honest, his smile beams greater than almost anyone I have ever seen. It radiates out to fill up the whole hallway while having casual conversation. He always has a minute to engage in brief interactions; every one of them is filled with all his presence and sweetness.

One day, some of the boys were making fun of Oscar but he paid no mind while they laughed and teased him about “being just a janitor”. One of my co-workers pulled the boys into our room and shut the door. I was new to the scene, but knew what that meant. Arthur and Barry, the two guys I share space with, shut the door when they want to say things that would get them fired with the door open. He explained to the boys how disrespectful and rude it was to speak to a janitor like that. One of the boys made a comment like "Yeah, but he is just a janitor!" Then Arthur shared with the boys (and me) about Oscar:

Oscar had been a high level corporate executive, a real mover and shaker. He owns several expensive cars and retired early after accumulating more wealth than needed. After retiring, he wanted to be around kids but did not want to have the responsibility for them. So, he chose to be a school janitor.

My mentor has an expression that I hold close to me. She talks about "hiding in plain site". By this, she means being out in the world but drawing no special attention to yourself- being present without being noticed. Oscar is a master at hiding in plain site. He cleans the classrooms and bathrooms with such ease and grace. He moves his boom box with him down the halls after-school, while listening to the local Spanish station, La Movida. He never stresses or looks bothered by the mess the kids make. You would never even know he can read or write by how simply he carries himself, forget about being a high powered corporate executive.

I hope sometime in my life I smile once as brightly and beautifully, as he does daily while cleaning school hallways, classrooms and bathrooms. My mentor has recommended to me many times over the last 15+ years that being a night janitor would be an excellent job for me- working with my hands, simple, focused, no drama and do something for people who never know you do it for them. I am still too attached to being important to make that leap yet. It is not that I do not see the benefit for me, I do. It is just the ego is still firmly in control of this man.

The Truth is that his smile has its source in him, not in his moisturizer, shower gel or "age defying cream". Peace, Joy and Love are the original beauty secrets (and much cheaper too). For those who want another more practical resource Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps. Their quote is " Enjoy only 2 cosmetics, enough sleep & Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap to clean body-mind-soul-spirit instantly uniting ONE! All-One!" They are the only the only products I use on a regular basis. It is Oscar's Inner smile that brightens the hallways. It is his willingness to give without need for thanks or recognition that shines for us to see if we look. I have run into Oscar several times out while he is walking his two really cool, unusual dogs, and that same presence and peace is still there.

Happiness and the willingness to share it with others is the secret to staying, feeling and looking young. I am grateful I have had a janitor like Oscar in my life to remind me of how this all works.

My friend Oscar The Janitor.

Bowing: An Energetic Transaction

On my first morning here in Korea, I entered a local “deli” to buy something quick to eat before starting work. I had arrived in my room around 1:00a.m. and did not go to sleep till nearly 3:30, with a wake up time of about 8:30a.m. The “deli” is not what I would typically call a deli but do not know the correct name for it. The woman prepares and sells different kinds of Kimchi and stews, hot and ready to go. I did not know what I was thinking when I walked in the door of her place, she bowed and said some kind of formal greeting that I know now as “Annyeong-haseyo”, good morning/afternoon/evening. But the bow is what caught me in my tracks. I had been given the information that many Koreans still bow before I left the states. I was a little excited but did not really grasp what bowing really is till that morning of little sleep after a twenty-four hour flight and a long ride from the airport to my new place in Cheonan. She bowed as casually as someone who has done so without thinking thousands of times. She did not know how strengthening and affirming that common gesture was for me. I knew I had reached my destination and was in the right place. My trip to Korea was where I supposed to be.

For the last two months I have reflected many times on what actually happens during the process of bowing that is so powerful. Is it the honoring of another person’s Self? The honoring of the Self? Is it the conscious decision that whatever we may be doing at that moment, the decision to be focused and present right now is all that matters, because there is a human being in front of me and that requires my complete attention. We are acknowledging each other, and I sense our ancestors and histories as well. Very few people do half-hearted bows here. They do half-hearted all kinds of other things, but bowing is different. Even entering the E-Mart or Lotte-Mart, the Korean equivalents of Wal-Mart and K-Mart, there is a person inside the door that bows to every single person that enters and leaves. I do not understand how, but they mean it and are genuine every time to every person, even to the foreigner who wears a backpack and has this stuff growing on his face all the time.

Where does the bow come from? I do not mean mean its history, although I will assume it is a Chinese tradition initially. I am referencing the actual energy of the bow itself. It is too powerful for each one of us regular people to muster up the kind of energetic exchange that a bow transmits hundreds of times a day. It is like a shot if Reiki, Qi Gong, Prayer and a loving hug from your best friend and grandmother all in one, without touching or saying a word- Taiqi in its purest form.

I get to share bows with all three of the women that serve lunch in the school cafeteria daily. All of the clerks, stockers and employees at the grocery store by my home almost daily. I enter the cell phone place on my way home just to share a bow with the guy who owns the shop where I purchased my cell phone, because his bows go right through me and fill my spine every time without exception. It is worth the two steps to his shop to receive his warm smile and bow. When walking the halls at school, most of the kids and all the teachers share a bow with me; it does not get old for them or me. Each time, the exchange is present and refreshing to me, the Real me. It is hard to be miserable, angry or resentful when bows are plentiful to ruin my negativity, like it or not. I have been aware of what a challenge it is to hold onto whatever self-centered or selfish thoughts and emotions I am clinging to while being immersed in bowing. Bowing is in my spiritual lineage and blood. I think if we were able to trace DNA to see who has the bowing gene, I would be profiled as such. It is who I am, it just took a long plane ride to find this out.

Two specific bows stand out to me at this moment. The first being my initial introduction and hello to a Reiki Teaching Master I met in Kyoto, Japan. He came up the steps of the subway station in his black monastic attire and bowed before saying hello. I felt him, the Reiki lineage and our Inner Connection at that moment. Our shared history finally had the opportunity to greet each other in physical form. The acknowledgment that this particular bow shared is still part of my dreams at night and Reiki sessions in the morning. In that bow, my connection to Mikao Usui, the man who rediscovered Reiki and the Reiki lineage was immediately strengthened and fortified. I am grateful for this bow and our meeting. I know we will share another bow someday.

My other favorite bow happens Monday through Friday. One of the women that shares office space with me and I, do a mini bow while she is sitting at her desk every day when I enter the space. Her smile and warmth tickle my core and remind me why I am a teacher and what being a teacher means. I find her attractive on many levels and since there are some language barriers, bowing is the time we connect and acknowledge each other. I wish bowing could be the method of getting to know women for me in all attractions; it is honest, pure, respectful and loving. The other stuff that trends to cloud my attractions to women dissipate in that brief second we share. I want to expand that statement to include all relations, male, female, friends or otherwise.

And I thought bowing was just for spiritual rituals and old folks.