Dance, Dance Revolution!

"Are you a free spirit?"

It was a rather innocuous inquiry, neither of us, particularly me, anticipating the vortex which it would create that would afterwards envelope me.

Yes. I am.

"What does that mean to you?"

That I dance in the magical flow of life.

The words were there. They didn't seem to be mine, but they certainly fell effortlessly from my lips. No hesitation, no thought. They were just there for me to use. I paused for a moment after speaking the words to soak in the ethereal magic from which those consonants and vowels had formed the syllables that seemed so simple and so poignantly epiphanic.

So, days later, I find myself reviewing the validity of that statement. It's true, I do indeed feel that I am dancing in the magical flow of this life. But how often am I truly allowing that magic to find me? And where and how often do I block that flow to my own detriment? That is the burning question that currently is my vortex of self-observation. Yes, I know it's a two-part question, but it's still a single concept that has me reeling in a spurt of growth, maturation, understanding and lessons of accepting fully the person I am in this moment. I find myself exploring the Good and Bad, or at least my interpretation of these labels we put upon the events of this life.

I love magic. David Copperfield, when I was younger. Some of Criss Angel's illusions are so good it almost weirds me out, but I still enjoy most of his work. A young man named Andy, maybe 12 years old, who hangs out at my local eatery and perfoms magic for the patrons is my new favorite. I can never see quite how he does what he does even when he does it a foot from my face. And while I relish in the magic Andy performs, the real Magic is in Andy's eyes, smile and heart. It seems especially easy for a 12 year old boy to dance in the magical flow of life, but a grown man or woman in their adulthood seems more of a stretch sometimes.

We all dance. You do too, adept or not, you and I are in constant flux with our environment, our loved ones, and everything in the universe. There are slow love songs, there are high energy club remixes, there are sad songs, and there are songs that seem to completely embody that perfect summer day by the lake when you first kissed a girl. Sometimes we lead, but how often are we led? There is a season for both to be sure. Force too much and you step on the toes of life. Resist too much and you may never leave the outside edge of the dance floor. Dance without awareness and you may crash into your neighbor.

There is a balance. Lead when led to do so. Be led when led to do so. Trust you. It's up to us to find what works and what doesn't, but resistance cuts the dance party short. I am doing my best to be attentive to the flow, to appreciate the flow and to feel the flow. Holding is for your hands in this dance, not for the flow. It is, after all, flow, and flow cannot be held. Experience it without attachment. Flow is constant. It will return, or at least, more accurately, it will seem to magically reappear. The real magic is that it is always there for us to consider, to tap into, to dance to whenever we want. We can, at the very least, always just tap our toes to the rythm, right?

Hey! I think I hear them playing my song. May I have this dance? C'mon. It'll be fun.

Thank you!...No! Thank You!

Like everything here, this is for me in the hope that you glean something for you by peeking in to my world. Having said that, and realizing that it sounds contradictory, this is for Filippo. Thank you, my beautiful friend.

"Thank you." No. Thank you.
'But I meant that. I really wanted to thank you.'

Thank you for being here.
Thank you for your warmth, your generosity, your light.
Thank you for allowing me to play in your world for even a moment.
Thank you for accepting me just like this. I didn't even have to change anything.
Thank you for laughing with me.
Thank you for making me laugh.
Thank you for touching my heart.
Thank you for opening my eyes.
Thank you for changing my life today.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for caring enough to allow me this space.
Thank you for creating magic in my presence.
Thank you for invoking a beautiful spirit.
Thank you for helping me. You did see that you helped me, right?
Thank you for sharing the gift of you.
Thank you for allowing me to pass that gift on to others in my path.
Thank you for being the sweetest person I met today.
Thank you for holding a space of safety and love for me here.
Thank you for this moment.
Thank you for being the divine channel of light, love, hope, faith, charity, peace and well being that you are.

What a simple "thank you" contains is never as simple as the words themselves. We must acknowledge the right of our fellow human beings to implement one of the most efficient and vital tools in vibrational resonance that we have available to us. Gratitude. Say "your welcome" when someone bestows a "thank you" upon your head, and then you can thank them, in turn, if you like. Receiving thanks is just as important as giving thanks. So share the wealth.

Play Date

"By closing the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived by shows, men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit everywhere, which still is built on purely illusory foundations. Children, who play life, discern its true law." - Henry David Thoreau

Ok, I thought. No problem.

I woke up today with the attitude to play life. I didn't have to work all day, and I figured I would do my best to play. Check my phone to see what time it is. There's a text message: "Can you work for me today? 11:15." Ok. Sure. I need the money so I try to say yes every time someone graciously proffers their shift.

I stop at the local cafe and grab a breakfast sandwich on my way to the bustop. "Regular sandwich?" Yep. "Wheat toast? Cheddar cheese. American bacon. Eggs over, no, scrambled, right?" Wait. Make it Irish bacon. "Oh, really? Trying something new?" Today I am. I walk outside and cross the little side street to the bustop. Wow. It's beautiful today. The same girl from yesterday sat silently, sipping her Starbucks iced coffee. Yesterday, I took the 268 to the train station. I got a phone call and couldn't cross the overpass to the train deck without drowning out the sound coming from the small earpiece connected to my phone. I waited by the elevators next to the bus bay. She took the 287. It takes longer to get there. I finished my phone call and walked through the open elevator door. She was there. I asked if she took the 287. "Yeah." I told her she could take the 268 and get there a little quicker. "268? Ok." She sat there still sipping her coffee. We exchange pleasantries. The sigh of the bus braking at the four-way stop causes us to both stand and walk to the curb. "The 268, will take me to train station?" I hadn't noticed her accent yesterday. Yes, it will. I'll show you where we get off.

Exit at Halstead and Foothill. Cross to the southside of Foothill where the elevators to the overpass reside. Did you have breakfast? I have half a sandwich left if you're hungry? "No, thank you. I already eat at home." I unfold the tin foil protecting my half egg, cheddar cheese and Irish bacon beakfast sandwich. 'Maybe some homeless person will be hungry.' Maybe I should wait. Nope. No homeless. The train takes me to DelMar station. My stop for work. I wonder what wonderful things will come my way for my attempted feeding people good deed efforts.

$75. Two hours work. Pretty good. Thank you. "Extra. This extra." This tuna salad? "Ya. Caesar too." Esta basura? "Si." Esta basura por mi boca. "Whatever." Cool. Free lunch.

It's so beautiful today. Just hot enough. Clear blue sky. You could see the moon this morning around 9am. Half of it, anyway. Just about half way up in the southwest sky. This afternoon though. Wow. I don't feel like going home yet. I walk around town and up to the park. It's so perfect outside. I should stop by the pub to see if I know anyone working. Hey! "What are you doing here?!" I just took a chance. "I have to go bake a cake, wanna come help?" I almost say no, but I remembered that I'm playing. Sure. Why not?

We shop for a Funfetti cake mix. I don't even know what that means. We buy Funfetti and Red Velvet. "I wanna make a layer cake." Cool. "What do you think for icing? I like this Creamy Vanilla." I really have no idea. "Excuse me", she says. We both look. "This Rainbow Pleasure goes really well with Funfetti." Ok. We get it.

"I can't tell if these are lumps in the mix or Funfetti." I can help whip. I do. We delve into life and where we each are in this moment. We speak at length about our journeys since last we met. It's been some time. I have an idea. I have to learn to teach something that I believe will aid you in your path right now. You need to learn this exact thing I need to learn to teach. I can help you. You can help me. Will you do this with me? "Yes. Absolutely." That's so cool. I have been putting this off for too long. This feels right. I like it. This is exciting. Hey there's a soccer ball in the yard. Let's go kick it around. "It's not ours." Ya, but it's in your yard, and if we go out and play, maybe the kids whose ball it is will come out, and then we can invite them to play with us, and then we could have a game on the front lawn, or if they want the ball back, we give it to them, and we come back inside. "Noooo. I don't think so." Come on! It will be like when we were kids, and we can take our shoes and socks off and play barefoot in the grass, and it'll be fun, and we can be like kids. Come on! Come on! "Noooo." 15 minutes! Ok, ok, 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes, it'll be great. Come on! "Ok. 10 minutes."

She kicks it into the street. Hey, remember that time, when we were kids, and I almost got ran over by a car because I chased a ball you kicked into the street? My shoulder smashes her nose. We fall to the ground laughing. "Hey! Remember that time, when we were kids, and you smashed you shoulder into my nose and broke it?" An hour later, I leave Henry, Maddy, Evan and Seth to play in the plastic castle slide. Henry had enough soccer he said. I was way to big for the plastic castle slide. I walk inside. The hardwood floor feels good on my bare feet. She had just finished showering for work. "I'll be ready to leave in a few minutes." Ok. No problem. Looking through the living room window and through the bushes guarding the front porch, I see Henry playing soccer with his dad. Hey. He said he was tired. I want, for a moment, to feel a little hurt. 'That's his dad. Maybe his dad hasn't played with him in some time. Maybe you helped bring a boy and his father closer today by playing soccer with his son.' I like that story. Even if they do regularly play together. I like both stories.

A tiny black blur jumps and finds itself in my lap. Petey. Too much energy with this little Chihauhau and Miniture Pincher mix. "Throw the toy! Throw the toy!" Ok, Petey. Go get it. I hurl some red fuzzy thing to the opposite end of the room. Sit. Good boy. Go get it. Drop it. Good boy. Sit. Good boy! Go get it. Time after time after time. She gives me a look of I'm impressed. Does he know these commands? "No." Well, you should totally train this dog. He's really smart. We have to go.

Just drop me off in town. I want to walk the rest of the way. I love you. Let's talk on Sunday and arrange the hikes. "Ok. Love you too." The sun sets the sky to a delicate orange. Wow. It's gorgeous tonight. I say a prayer for a little marketable phraseology magic. Three candidates throw their hats. Nice. I like them. I pause to send a text to those involved. I don't want to miss a step of this walk. Glad I didn't. The mountains are so enticing. Thank you for showing me how wonderful it is to have this home. A 30 gallon forest green bucket on its side grabs my attention. Free wood. It lies against the curb as if the wood had made some valiant attempt at escape, but after obtaining its freedom, realized it had nowhere to go. That's going to be hard to see when it gets dark. I saw the lady of that house in her yard. Maybe I should say something. No. That will be weird. She might get scared. 'Are you playing today, or not?' Yes. 'Well, are you going to come this far today, and have this much fun and not finish it? Honor you intution and it will come around more often.' Ok. I go back. I explain that I'm playing a game today of honoring my intuition. Can I move the wood onto the curb? I think someone in a car would have trouble seeing it in the dark. I'll do it for you. I just wanted to make sure it was ok. "Sure. I guess." She was hesitant. She thinks I'm weird. I am sure of it. I would think I was weird right now. I stack the pile neatly on the curb and lie the bucket back on its side so the label Free Wood stays right side up. "Thank you." Your welcome. Have a good night. I resume my walk home. I smile. Today is so much fun.

My money? Still not figured out. Things hang about, awaiting further attention. However, I have accomplished all that can be accomplished for today. I am certainly proud of that. I feel fantastic. Isn't life really about achieving this feeling? Interesting. It didn't cost a dime. I just played.

Recieve This!

I've had so many people tell me through books or videos, conversations, both real and surreal, that you have to be open to receive. You can't just ask, you have to then open yourself to receiving. I use a paraphrased form of that in my own email signature. But how often do I really listen to that advice? Not so much as it turns out.

Receiving is still difficult in certain areas of my life. I am finding, however, that this "problem" (read: lesson) is at least now in my field of consciousness, so I intend not being here too long. However, this is something I must remember a number of times throughout the waking day. I'm finding that as my mind begins to clutter with the "noise"; I also begin closing myself off to anything beautiful, spiritual or magical. Thus, I find myself not so open to receive.

I give. I told myself a while ago that I would never again just brush off the homeless. If they asked me for spare change, and I had it, then I had to give it to them. If they asked for a dollar, they got a dollar. That was the rule. I haven't broken it yet. This is nothing grand, giving change to the homeless. I'm not supporting a worthwhile charity. I'm not helping defenseless animals. I'm not really even giving that person a sandwich. A bag a chips, maybe, but it's never much more than a dollar, so what could they really get? This act is nothing big or flashy, but it's energy in giving, which, following the "Law of Attraction", or anything else lately to which people subscribe, we know that particular action, in turn, "attracts" to us more giving. But this article isn't so much about why I'm not receiving, and how I can fix that. It' more about how I am spiritually impacting this existence.

Imagine, we all have our reasons for being here. Everyone who has ever lived or ever will live have their reasons for being here; evil or good, it matters not, we have all come here to fulfill the role needed for us to grow to our potential as a species. So what does that have to do with receiving or not receiving, right? If you're closed to receiving, as I was until I started writing this, then you are not allowing yourself to grow the way you need to. If you are not open to receiving help, and someone is trying or wanting to give help, then you are operating on different frequencies, and you will be unable to find each other. Suppose that help sends you or that other person on the correct trajectory to accomplish their spiritual life's mission.

We are directly impacting the entire universe constantly. Each of us contributes to the whole. Only by seeing ourselves as separate, are we truly separate. My "non-openness", if you will, puts more "non-openness" into the ether. That, in turn, bolsters your "non-openness", and so on and so on to support the illusion that there is not enough for everyone. We are all here to help each other remember. We all remember different parts of the whole, so there is always something to learn from everyone. But if you are looking for me, consciously or not, or if I were looking for you, and we miss each other, then we have not made the most elegant choice (as a good friend would say), not only for ourselves but for the whole. I find that I want more from myself so that I will have more for myself, and I know that will mean more for all of us.

We have so much beauty and potential and light inside us; who are we to stop ourselves from creating beautiful lives?

She Whispers In My Dreams

For now she dances in the stars
And plays in the constructs of my mind
Smart and sassy she slyly plays her jokes
Her beautiful spirit so free and pure
With an innocent tongue she speaks wisdom
Sometimes she nudges me to keep me awake
She beckons me to swing just one more time
She always laughs hardest when I laugh with her
She softly kisses my cheek if I ever cry
She always wants to hold my hand
Her pride in me unwavering and true
Curly brown locks frame her beauty
And her smile completely melts my heart
I hold her tightly at every opportunity
Passionately, she squeezes me back
We giggle lovingly each and every night
As I tuck her snugly and safely into bed
And my heart bursts with joy
Each time she whispers
"I love you, Daddy."

Love's Prayer

I wrote this some time ago for no one in particular. I just wrote it for Love itself. I have edited it a little bit, but it remains largely unchanged. I just picked it up today as it was calling to me. It is uncanny how it captures so much of what I feel right now and what I want in my life. I guess sometimes we channel things for reasons to be understood somewhere else down the road. I hope it touches you in some way.

Bury me in the abyss of your love
And suffocate the fear in my mind
Let nothing in me breathe
Without the rhythm of your light
Sustain this love with perfect reciprocity
Able to survive separately
But only truly living adjoined
Give this love a perfect peace
As this man works towards his

Together we work in dreams of purpose
In harmony we walk among the living
Vision's of old fill baby's brains
Showing direction on darkened roads
The fear we feel pales in comparison
To the triumph that comes tomorrow
A prize so grand as to burn the eyes
Of those that doubt its splendor

The pit of my stomach patiently aches
With the anticipation of a soldier
Quivering in the bowels of a foxhole
My heart screams in restless ecstasy
As I absorb everything you exhale

Fill us full on this feast of life
And inebriate us with drinks of desire
Let us never thirst or hunger again
But satiate even the smallest of pangs
Overwhelm us while we maintain control
On a roulette wheel completely red
Every bet won, every chip cashed in

We will dance ceremoniously
One with the other
Surpassing dimensions of time and space
Our love lives in infinity
Where only the strongest survive
As we dance each night
And live each day

Home Has My Heart Again

They say that you can never go home again. They also say that home is where the heart is. First off, I don't know who "they" are. I wonder if "they" even know that they are the "they" to which we all seem to refer. So what is this home thing all about? And what if you and your heart are in two different places? Can you go "home" and get back together with your heart if you're not supposed to be able to go home again? What a dilemma!

I understand that home is never the same because unless you're a rock, you grow, you change, and that place of "home" will be different because your perspective is different. I do believe the adage that home is where the heart is. I am separated from my heart right now. I am here, but my heart is there. And that "there" feels like my home. Am I welcome there? I don't know yet. It will definitely be a different home if and when I arrive there once again, as I am certainly undergoing dramatic shifts in perspective, priorities and desires. I have never been separated from my heart before. Sure, as a young man, I thought I had experienced many different losses and longings in love. This is not that. I am not that young, deluded man.

I know where my heart is. I know where my home is. I also know that I am not at home, and I am not with my heart. I'm ready. I want to go home. My happiness is at home. I expect it to be different. I want it to be different. I could not be happy if it was the same. That "sameness" is why I am here and my heart is there. It has no other choice but to be different. I want to go home to a new home. For that is the only way that I can truly be with my heart. That is what I want to allow me to be happy. Home. This is Jon. I'm ready.