October Greetings and fall blessings to all who read this.  May the divine light of our radiant universe flood your heart and home with warmth, light and peace.

The last 24 hours have been full of emotion.  They have been full of self-reflection.  They have been full of quiet anger and embarrassment.  They have been full of questions and self-doubt.  My mind and heart have become a quagmire of sorts.  Dwelling and lamenting on one word.  Failure.

“Failure, Mike?  Really?”

Yes.  Really.  Failure to bring impact.  Failure to provide joy.  Failure to give smiles for which people, paid for.  Failure to serve the mission statement in bio. 

In my professional life, there have been times of these feelings.  The not accomplishing or failing to meet a desired outcome or deadline.  But, the mitigating factor for me, is that my professional life and passions have and will always be kept separate.  Successes in the office feel much different than successes outside it.  I do not feel the soulful pride or soul crushing defeat of success and failure in the office and out of the office, respectively.  I have been trained to perform a job.  An occupation that enables me to pour my heart into my passion. 

Enter the failure, but first, let me take you all back to the first time I felt the pang of failure the hardest.  A time where another passion of mine came to an abrupt end.  A cessation of something I lived and breathed for.  Swimming.

After my career as a competitive swimmer ended my senior year of high school, I poured my love for the sport into coaching.  I had been an assistant coach for my summer swim team for two years now (competing and coaching the younger swimmers) and I loved it.  I was passionate about sharing my love and knowledge of the sport (which I wanted to continue at the Division 1 level, but tired and worn out shoulders would no longer allow) to the younger generation.  I wrote practice plans up, focused on sharpening up techniques of kids on my team.  Forming relationships with my whole team and urging each child to find the beauty in each race and to be their best.  My teams weren’t ever going to win a championship with the talent it had, but I was determined to make the season fun and enjoyable for all who were involved.

Year 4 was met with some new faces and some personalities (parents) I recognized immediately as potentially challenging.  No matter.  I was 20 years old and full of zest and vigor for the sport I could no longer compete in, but I could bring that fire within me, to these kids.  We practiced in the morning every day in the summer.  We had meets against other teams in the leagues on Tuesday and Thursday nights.  We had all day invitational tournaments on Saturdays.  I loved the days of meets.  Seeing old teammates and rivals, who also, were now coaching the youth.  We hugged and laughed.  We remembered and joked about races and meets.  We still loved, this sport. 

As the season wore on, it became apparent that some parents (two mind you), we will call them Barb and Joanne, were less than thrilled with the fact that their children were simply not talented enough to make it into “Live Heats” (live heats are where points are actually scored for the competing teams.  There are also “Exhibition Heats” for all other swimmers to have the opportunity to compete.  There was never a time ALL swimmers didn’t have the opportunity to swim in the maximum three events).  Every Tuesday and Thursday, the line-ups would be posted on the bulletin board in the breezeway of our pool, and kids and parents alike would look to see what and where they would be swimming.  Inevitably, where Barb and Joanne’s kids would compete was never good enough (they were always exhibition swimmers).  They would approach me about allowing them to compete in a live heat, and every time I would inform them that they were in fact, competing.  They practiced hard and kept getting better.  They always had the chance to compete.  Shaking their heads, they would walk away grumbling under their breath.  I tried to not let it bother me, but those of you who know me personally, know that I take things personally and have a hard time with not meeting people’s expectations.  I am a “people pleaser”.  It matters to me what others think and how they feel.  Personality flaw?  Perhaps.  I chalk it up to simply, I care.  I expect the best out of myself at all times.

The end of the swimming season had a county wide meet where all three divisions were invited to compete for the county championship.  As it implies, the best of the best were at this meet, and I always allowed kids to opt in or out.  It didn’t matter to me as we were never going to “win it all”.  I just wanted the very talented kids to have a chance to possibly win an age group title or just simply compete against the best.  Both of my challenging parents wanted their kids there.  No matter, no worries.  If they wanted to compete, I was happy to enter them into the meet and allow them to.  Good for them!

The day of the meet was hot and humid as Pennsylvania summers are.  It was late afternoon and the last few races were nearly upon all who were there.  I had just seated Barb and Joanne’s kids on the “ready benches” for them to begin the wait for their races.  I told them to follow the directions (they are 8 year olds, so following directions was needed) of the ready bench staff.  I walked away to go grab the next group of kids and to watch my sister swim in the final race of her swimming career.    As fate would have it, madness would ensue.

After I watched my sister swim, I gave her a big hug and congratulated her on a job well done.  We chatted for a bit and did a little reminiscing about all the years we spent at these meets.  I left her to talk with my parents and went to go grab the next group of kids who would be getting into the ready bench cue.  As I am walking up with the group of rowdy boys, I was met by an irate Barb and Joanne.  They began to rant about their kiddos missing their event.  I stood there perplexed.  I let them know I got them seated in the ready bench area and then went to watch my sister.  That was not acceptable to them.  They let me know one of the kids had to use the restroom and that since they were friends, they both went.  They didn’t know how to get back to the benches in time and as such, missed their event.  I apologized profusely, but it didn’t matter.  Joanne, who was never ashamed to express her feelings, let me know that both her and Barb had been questioning my love of the sport all year and how I only catered to the kids with talent.  Her expectation was that I stay there until the kids were behind the blocks.  Wow.  Gut punch.  I loved all those kids.

Barb took her arm and off they strode.  I took the group of boys to the ready benches and seated them.  The next and last hour of the meet passed in a haze.  I remember driving home and thinking about what I had done wrong.  I agonized about these kids missing their events.  I hated the fact they didn’t have the ability to swim one final race for the season before the clutches of fall and school took hold.  I failed.  That’s what it came down to.  I failed.  I was a failure.  Only one thing to do as a failure, quit.  At our awards picnic that following week, I announced that I would not return the following year to coach.  The sport was now dead to me.

I experienced those emotions once again.  I didn’t meet a paying client’s expectations.  I failed.  I was, yet again, a failure.  Never did I think that would happen again for something I considered a passion.  I spend time studying techniques, poses, lighting and locations.  I take days off to scout new locations and areas for clients.  I was (am still am feeling a little) crushed.  How could I let someone down again?  What course of action is there to take?  Is it time to end my four year venture into photography?  I’m not sure as I pen this blog, but I know that I have taken some images I am proud of.  I know I love hearing when clients are excited about their sets and seeing them on Christmas cards and in school yearbooks.  I love hearing from new clients about the rave reviews they got when recommending me to shoot their own families.  What to do…  What to do…

As I type the last few sentences of this and reflect on a long ago story as well as the most recent one, I am contemplating a few shoots I have this weekend and find myself questioning my abilities again.  The dark monster of depression begins to creep in.  It begins to sink its talons into my heart and soul.  The thought crosses my head to cancel all the shoots and simply quit.  But, it also fuels a new feeling.  The competitive fire returns for a bit and stokes something.  It makes me want to get back out and click that shutter with a new sense of creativity.  To wipe away any traces of complacency which may have crept in and replace it with the same gusto I had when I began this venture.  Yes.  Yes, that is the ticket. 

The Buddha said this and I hold this true today, “Everything that has a beginning has an ending.  Make your peace with that and all will be well.”  I bid goodbye to the memories of both instances and look forward to a new day. 

May you all be filled with joy and happiness.  Take stock of your own successes and failures and see how you too, can allow the sting of the failures, to fade away.  I hope that wherever you are, you can watch leaves turn gold, snowflakes fall to the ground and celebrate a new day and a new beginning. 

“Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time.”

Namaste, friends.

There are times in all of our lives where a "Goodbye" means more than just "I'll see you again soon".  Sometimes, a goodbye is forever.  Sometimes those same goodbye's hurt badly.  They scar and they leave chasms in the heart and soul.  They are done to protect.  They are done to salvage what is left of sanity and allow the soul to grow into what it is destined to become.

In May of 2019 I left a school district where I had established some wonderful relationships, built a team I was proud of and knew would continue the work we began and saw changes in both the brick and mortar of the schools themselves as well as noticed more happiness among the employees of the district.

No matter if you love or hate what you do to pay bills, saying goodbye to those folks you leave behind when you leave is a hard task.  Some folks may disagree and that's fine, but deep down, there are those humans which we will truly miss as we part ways.  Any of us who have ever lost a loved one, left a job, moved to a new location or simply severed ties with toxic relationships know the value of a goodbye.  They are never easy, but as time passes, the value increases (in almost all circumstances).

As my days dwindled at the school district I recently left behind, I took a few moments to reflect on things that my team and I were able to accomplish while I was there.  We were able to bring a huge number of changes to the district which impacted not only the students, but the staff as well.  I wouldn't call it a legacy or anything of that nature, but in a short span of time, we passed $70 million in bonds, gave our teachers and staff over 20% in compensation increases, began to rebuild every one of the campuses and increased the access to technology for every child in the district.  It is something I am proud of (and that is extraordinarily difficult for me to acknowledge given my struggles with self-consciousness).

I sit back on a Sunday morning in early fall and think on these things.  I look at the current position I am in and do not have that same mindset.  I love the team I have here and their abilities and personalities, but understand that I will not be a difference maker at this position.  I wistfully said "goodbye" to air around me as I contemplated on this hope.

Goodbye.  Auf Wiedersehen.  Au Revoir.  Ciao.  Sayonara.  See you soon.

Surprised with that last one?  I've never been a fan of saying the word "goodbye", and when I do, I allow it to mean permanence.  That perhaps, maybe this is the last time I will see that person.  Perhaps even, this is the last time I WANT to see this person? 

Today, a darkness hovers over me.  One which I want nothing more than to say goodbye to.  For those of you reading, I have shared some of the darkness which at times, encroaches upon my heart and soul and takes hold of my being.  Sometimes it lasts for hours, sometimes for days.  In the end, it always leaves.  Never goodbye, but it retreats into the darkest recesses of a, sometimes, haunted mind.

I lost two of my grandparents in a 2 month span back in 2006.  Each time I flew back for the funeral, I composed myself enough to be able to audibly say "Goodbye" before the casket closed.  Emotions run high in these instances.  I am an emotional person by nature.  My senior year of high school I had a Humanities teacher call me a hopeless romantic with a touch of a renaissance man.  I didn't know how to take that other than the fact I wasn't a fan of her during my time in her class.  She was overly critical, especially of me and the writings I produced and submitted.  I won't say I hated her (even though at the time, I did not consider myself a Buddhist, but was taught that hate is a word not to be used because of the feelings it leads to), but I did not prefer her in any way.  I was happy to say goodbye to her.

As both funerals ended and my grandparents were laid to their eternal rest, I struggled with my goodbye being one that was after they had left this plane of existence.  I fought the increasing anger inside me that I was denied the chance to say goodbye to them after a meal at their house or spending time in their living room just talking.  When my final grandparent passed in 2012, it hit home even harder.  The same thing occurred.  I packed a dark suit and tie, boarded a flight to the east coast once again, and stood next to a cousin of mine as the casket was lowered into the freezing Pennsylvania earth in December.  I cried.  I wept.  I purged emotions into a journal which I still have.  I read of their darkness and the meaning to me and it once again brings tears.  Each time I close that college ruled notebook, I say goodbye to the memory and hope that that notebook will call me no longer to open its pages and immerse myself in a period of time I wish I could simply forget.

Goodbye.  If you stop and think about the word, it is interesting.  Why good?  Is it really "good" to see someone off or out of your life?  A contemplative mood strikes me today and I muse about this somewhat obsessively.  If you are reading this, you've either come here to read something else or were browsing galleries and fell on this blog.  This was a blog has been in process for some time and has been written and rewritten several times.  Goodbye to the old words, hello to the new and then goodbye again.  On and on, over and over.  Write, delete, write, delete, hello, goodbye, this writing looks promising, no it doesn’t, energy is good, energy is dark.  Yin and Yang.  Hello and goodbye.

"Mike, why must you be so dramatic and cryptic with things?" 

As an introverted poet and writer, of course I want to create a little drama with words.  That makes people think.  Cryptic?  Yes.  Sometimes, things take years to come to the surface and almost always have been thought about, talked about internally and said goodbye to dozens of times before disseminating through a blog, a conversation with a friend or through poetry which maybe only I can completely decipher.  Allowing these emotions out is my way of saying goodbye to them.  To allow them to be released.  To hopefully send them on their way with a simple goodbye.  A memory to vanish from the consciousness of my spirit. 

I once sat with a Shaman to discuss past lives, akashic records and my purpose (soul-wise) on this earth.  The Shaman said to me, "Mike, you are a wounded healer.  You need to know this.  Your inherent ability to listen and help see the good in everyone allows you to bring light to them no matter how low they feel.  You must however, understand that during this, you will help some to heal and them must understand that their path and yours will diverge.  These friends are the hardest to lose as you have shared a piece of your soul with them, saw them flourish and then you must say goodbye."

That was years ago, but her voice and words still echo.  We went on to talk about my purpose and what dreams I should pursue and why my soul chose this vessel over other ones.  At the end of the conversation, we said goodbye and I left feeling overwhelmed, but somehow at peace.  I went home and thought about this.  I pondered it deeply.  I still think about that conversation and what the answers to the questions I asked were and how sometimes, the answers were not given, rather, a question was posed back to me to allow my own intuition and soul to decide which path to take.

Each time I sit and listen to a challenge another soul has, I remind myself of her words.  I remind myself that each onus taken, I lose a fragment of my soul here and chip of my soul there.  I can look at the other person and see the gaps which they came to me with have been filled and there is a new happiness about them. 

“With giving fragments and chips to others, what will happen to you with the missing pieces?”

I ponder on this very thought often.  Overthink it, even.  My response is always the same.  Because it is what is expected of me.  It is my karmic duty.  It is my Karmic Debt.  The best way I can describe this is through one of my favorite lines in one of my favorite movies. 

“I give hope to men, I leave none for myself (Lord of the Rings, Return of the King).”  This is my philosophy on the preceding paragraph pertaining to karmic debt and akashic record.  Think on this and ponder it.  What does it mean to you?

Goodbye.  As we continue our walk through life, I hope we understand the meaning of this word.  Each time we look at another soul and say "goodbye" I hope we can truly understand what we are saying.  Do we really mean goodbye?  Would it be better to say “See you soon”?  Or even “Namaste”? 

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  After reading this I hope it causes you to think a little deeper.  Who knows, maybe you will say goodbye to me and this blog?  If so, I wish you love and light and a journey which brings you peace.  If you come back, I wish you the same. 

May the cosmic energy and divine consciousness of our universe guide your pathway through life and may each day forward teach you something new.

See you soon.  Later gator.  Peace out. 

Goodbye.

Namaste, friends.

“Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time.”    

“Grandfather Monk, what color is that tree’s bark?” 

“It is the color that you see,” I told her…

What is your first thought with this?  What comes to mind?  Place yourself in the shoes of Grandfather Monk and think about your response to the child.  Now, place yourself into the shoes of the child.  What thoughts echo in your own head?

A dear Lightworker friend of mine shared this with me as it relates so well to everyday thought and process.  From when we are very young, we are constantly teaching our children things.  We teach them how to walk, how to talk, how to dress, how to eat, how to use their manners and how to play.  During the process we also likely are teaching them what to think. 

What to think.

Is that what we truly should be doing?  Or should we be teaching them to just think? 

What color is that tree’s bark?  If we are posed with that question, naturally we try and discern what color it is and the color is likely some shade of brown.  But, what if we did response like Grandfather Monk?  What if we told them exactly what he told his granddaughter?  Imagine the possibilities of what could be going through (hopefully) the child’s mind.

Could that child see tones of purple?  What about yellow or gray?  Perhaps even some orange?  Could we be limiting what our children understand by “teaching them how to think” rather than to simply “think”?

What have we taught others during the course of our lives?  Have we taught them about a belief set?  Have we taught them how to read, write or swim?  Or, have we taught them compassion, love and connectedness?  Have we tried to teach them to have an open mind in all senses?  To look at another human vessel and just “think”?  Do we wonder what experiences has this soul undergone to turn them into what they are as they stand before us?  How do we react to this person if they say something pleasant or cruel?  Would our response change?

“Mike, you are asking a lot of questions today.”

Yes.  Yes, I am.  I want you to think.  Deeply think.  Ask yourself these questions and separate what you have been “instructed to think” from what you actually just “think”.  Do you see a difference?

There is a car outside my office window currently.  I can see the driver side of the car.  If one of my staff were to ask me what color the car is, how would I respond?  I’ve been pondering this for the greater portion of the morning.  After much thought and “thinking” my response is that the car appears to be blue on the side facing me, but could be something different on the other.  I just don’t know. 

Does that test the limits of your mind?  Maybe you are rolling your eyes and thinking I am being obtuse?  I don’t even think my answer could be one that fits the context of this question as it is too definitive.  Maybe I should have said, “It is a tone that pleases my senses” or “It is a color that I am sure the owner derives a certain degree of joy from”? 

Simple questions like these I wish we would ask more.  I wish we would spend more time discussing and philosophizing over.  Awaken the deepest reaches of our minds, hearts and souls.  Connect to something that maybe we haven’t harnessed since our childlike minds were influenced with news, dogma and ideology of the modern world. 

I look back at my day so far today.  It began with the darkness of depression that sometimes creeps in without any warning, but instead of allowing myself to wallow in it, I decided to put on some music and think about it.  Where does my depression stem from?  What color could my world be without it? 

As I sat and pondered this, I reflected back to Grandfather Monk’s answer to the child.  I found myself immersed in thinking.  My coffee cup sat to the right of me and held steaming contents which I had not yet begun to consume.  As I reached for the cup, I paused for a moment to consider Grandfather Monk.

“What will this coffee taste like?” 

It stopped me dead in my tracks.  I can smell the aroma of the bold French Roast, but the thought occurred, could it taste differently today?  Will it taste differently today?  I sat and stared at this cup of coffee and allowed my mind to lose itself in a world of questions.  It felt good.  It felt comfortable.  It made the blackness begin to ebb and fade away into the recesses of my head. 

Maybe the hippies had it correct back in the 60’s?  Maybe they were onto something with communes, peace and free love?  Investment bankers would likely disagree, but what about the poets, the dreamers, the free spirits and free souls?  I think they may come to a different conclusion.  Is there a wrong answer?  Is there even an answer at all?  What does it matter in the grand scheme of life if someone you know thinks differently?  Do they need to be saved or indoctrinated into the way you think?  Some people would say with absolutism, “YES”.  Why?  What makes our views so correct?  Why should the yak herder in Mongolia think the same as the fashion designer in Paris?  What about the Sherpa in Kathmandu thinking the same as the fur trader in Quebec? 

Thinking. 

I hope you are doing a lot of this.  I hope this is expanding your mind and maybe even your consciousness a bit.  Maybe you might even want to read more about this subject?  If you do, I would refer you to “The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings” by Thich Nhat Hanh. 

I hear some of you groaning as you are likely thinking, “Mike, I am not a Buddhist, nor do I want anything to do with that.”  To that, I would challenge you to read even just a few pages and allow your mind to ask questions.  I’m not here to convert.  I’m not here to tout Buddhism and the way of peace it brings me.  I fell in love with the simplicity of it.  The questions, the deep thoughts, the lack of punishment at the end of earthly life.  Simply, it teaches us to “think” in the manner we find most suited for us. 

Think.

Today I challenge every single person who has made it this far to be both Grandfather Monk and the Child.  Find something you normally would not question, and do just that.  Allow you mind to reach out into the cosmos and see what you find.  What do you see and feel?  How can these questions bring about a better quality of life or openness to a better life? 

Why do we stop asking questions?

An interesting question in itself and one for us all to ponder.  Many will say faith, trust or teachings they have learned.  But why?  Could we ask deeper and more challenging questions of all those?  Maybe it will shift a paradigm in our life or maybe it will strengthen what we already believe?  Can it hurt to ask?  No, I don’t believe so. 

“The color is what you see…”

What colors do you see in life?  What energy do you feel?  What will you do differently to adapt to a new mindset, especially in a challenging year like this?

Think.

Ponder.

Question.

Namaste, friends.

“Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time…”