You are inherently loved, loving and loveable.  Your worth is a given. It is your divine inheritance. You do not need to earn or validate it. It is unconditional, forever and always. There is nothing you can do to lose it, and nothing you need do to win it. To that end, I want to share a story someone sent be email. It's a wonderful metaphor that brings home this truth.

 

A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a 20 dollar note.

 

In the room of 200, he asked, "Who would like this 20 dollar note?"

 

Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this to one of you but first, let me do this."

 

He proceeded to crumple up the 20 dollar note.

 

He then asked, "Who still wants it?"

 

Still the hands were up in the air.

 

Well, he replied, "What if I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe.

 

He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. Still the hands went into the air.

 

"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value.

 

It was still worth 20 bucks.

 

Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value."

 

Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to the universe and those who DO LOVE you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by WHO WE ARE. You are special - Don't EVER forget it.

 

DO NOT LET, irrespective, challenging situations, or challenging people, that may have led to your limiting feelings and beliefs stand in the way of experiencing your inherent worth - others would not let you get in the way of them or their lives, I can promise you that. You can learn to get out of limiting thinking, sometimes situations are more complex, but all situations are possible to move away from, irrespective. Some take longer, some adjustments in thinking take longer, it isn't just about changing thinking, it's about balancing your environment - internally and externally. It's about a balanced mind and body. If one side isn't balanced, the other will not be as proficient as it can be. Sometimes you may need professional help, sometimes it takes a while to find the appropriate professional help - not all professionals are positive influences, just because someone says they are a solicitor doesn't mean to say they're going to be good at what they do and win your case. Follow your gut feeling at all times. Move away from anyone or anything that simply isn't taking you higher.

 

The one person that you can trust to be with you at all times, is YOU.

 

Therefore believe in you, get in tune with you, feel you - YOU will give you the right answers at all times, the right guidance at all times, listen to yourself. This is the absolute start to achieving the life you want - nothing else. This is what will help you deal with the most challenging of situations at all times.

 

 

In keeping with the holiday spirit, I resolve to keep on giving for the entire year of 2012. The things I will give are from a list compiled by a woman named Denise Bissonnette. These things are free but not necessarily easy to give.

1. Visibility

A lot of people feel unnoticed, unseen, unheard. People with serious mental illnesses, homeless people, alcoholics and addicts, and even the unemployed. I'm going to make an effort to let these people know I "see" them. A smile and hello. A short conversation. Anything to acknowledge that person is not in this world alone.

2. An honest compliment

People are starving to be affirmed. To notice what a person is doing right is a gift we can afford to give in just about any situation.

3. Thanks

How about a little gratitude? How much do we take for granted? There are a gazillion ways others make our lives a little easier everyday. If we can feel gratitude we sure as hell can verbalize it.

4. A heartfelt apology

This is for someone we have caused emotional pain. This gift should be wrapped in acknowledgement of the other persons pain and not wrapped in our excuses. This gift can be given at the moment of the offense or months later. There is no  expiration date.

5. The benefit of the doubt

What if we could completely mess something up and not have to worry that others are thinking about the worst of our intentions? What if you really were "innocent until proven guilty" in the hearts of others. Why not give that gift to others?

6. Forgiveness

There is no way to explain the enormity of this gift. If you have ever truly been forgiven you know what I mean. If we are really going to live in the present why fill it with a grudge? Forgiveness is a gift for us as well as the other party.

7. Kindness

Kindness brings out the best in us and has no negative side effects.

8. Tolerance

Tolerance is giving to every other person every right you claim for yourself.

My birthday, December 4th, is a month away and I've been thinking about what to get for myself. My birthday will be the beginning of my 61rst year on the planet. A transition year. The beginning of the winter of my life. (Not the dead of winter)

There is an ancient Chinese Taoist story about a wise sage who gave his daughter three gifts for her birthday during a transition year. I'm going to give myself the same three gifts or as close as I can get to the real thing. A small mirror, a pure crystal skull, and a small Buddha statue.

The mirror represents the Present Me. When I see myself in it, I will see me in the present. I am reminded to live in the present. To live mindfully and to be mindful of my actions and reactions.

On another level the mirror is symbolic of self reflection. Were my actions constructive, beneficial, or empowering? Or just the opposite? Were my actions in accordance with the Tao? Did I cause positive or negative consequences? If negative, what will I learn, and what will I correct?

The crystal skull is obvious. It is the Future Me. It represents my mortality. Everyone has a finite amount of time on this planet. Once you become mindful of and fully accept this, you can focus on what you are going to do with your remaining time here. I am cultivating my Tao. The skull will be a great reminder.

The Buddha figurine is the Eternal Me. Buddha is not a god. Buddha was a real living person who achieved enlightenment (actualized his divinity). A spiritual goal for me to strive for. The statue will be a 3-D metaphor for the divinity in me (in all of us). My inner Tao. My real, true Self. The ultimate goal of my spiritual quest is to find my way back to my pure true Self.

I'll keep these gifts in my office to keep me on point. They will be daily reminders of where to keep my focus.

I went to a funeral today. It was a funeral for a lady I had known for quite some time. For some odd reason I began to think of gemstones.

People think I don't believe in GOD because I choose to cultivate my Tao, but they're very wrong. Both concepts are two sides of the same coin as far as I'm concerned.

What does GOD and Tao have to do with gemstones, you may ask? Well, let me confuse you even more. When I lived in northwest Alaska it would get so cold the moisture in the air would freeze. If you walked by a lampost during the dark months you could see the ice crystals twinkling in the light. My Eskimo friends called it diamond dust.

I believe the universe (GOD, Tao, the Force, etc) showers us with gemstones in the form of people. How many times have you heard "That Judy is a real gem."?  Gemstones take on different hues and characteristics, just like people. Some are bright, some are dark, but they all add some demension to our lives. Take time to appreciate the gems in your life. You don't have to look too hard to find them.

And then there's the diamond dust in our lives. They could be children, siblings, parents, military buddies, friends, or mentors. They sparkle spectacularly, then are gone in an instant.

Be grateful for the diamond dust and do not sorrow when the dust is gone. They were gifts from the universe that not everyone got a chance to enjoy. Feel honored. Don't focus on the brief flicker, focus on the fact that the universe chose you to experience the sparkle.

Capital Hill used to make me gnash my teeth and attempt to pull at the roots of the hairs on my bald head. Now I just throw up my hands and speak words I don't want to put in my blog. Or just throw up! Most of the Tea Party members are new, and boy does it ever show. No finesse whatsoever.

I used to think of the Republican party as a bunch of old fat cats who've been around the race track too many times, knew all the worst dirty tricks, and were in the pockets of the most heartless of tycoons. When the new members came to town, they would pull them in the back rooms and show them some of their good dirty stuff to get them up and running. How to stick it to the Democrats, the poor, and the environment. Now I almost feel sorry for the old guys.

When I think of the Republicans now, I think of a group of seniors at the mall with a gaggle of little brats trailing behind yelling"I want this or I'm not moving". And the seniors are standing there looking like deer in headlights!

I have a new disorder called "Itchy Remote Thumb". Everytime the evening news starts to report on Washington it gets the urge to channel surf!

I am a Vietnam vet who works at a Veterans Hospital. What is really starting to piss me off is the number of vets who are coming in with a righteous sense of entitlement. I think they are confusing benefits with entitlement, and there is a difference.

If you are on active duty and someone is injured worse than you in combat or an accident, you would expect them to be treated before you. What is the difference after active duty?

I was in the emergency room of the VA hospital that I go to last week. Every 15 minutes a man across from me was demanding something. MOVE ME! TURN ME OVER! I HURT! CAN I GET SOME HELP? I'M IN PAIN! I was in pain listening to him bitch!

I take Morphine 3 times a day for pain and Oxycodone for spikes in the pain. I am in constant pain! I also realize I am not the only Vet in the emergency room. I am not the only patient my nurse or doctor is working with.

All the stretchers are filled and the waiting area is crowdwd with Vets waiting to be seen. What makes ME special? Why should all the clinical staff make my needs more important than any other Vet?

Have I forgotten so quickly what it was like to go through all the bullshit of war so fast? To forget that we are all former warriors in the same boat? When I see a WWII vet, I feel, take him before me, that guy paid for MY freedom.

Let me stop before I really turn this into a manifesto. In my neighborhood people say MAN UP. I say VET UP!

 

I watched as people celebrated the death of Osama bin Laden on tv. They rejoiced as if evil incarnate was removed from the face of the earth. There was a very important lesson in his death for the young people of the world.

The lesson wasn't "Don't mess with America". It wasn't "Live by the sword. Die by the sword". Nor was it "Payback is a bitch". The lesson is everyone will eventually die someday! Everyone. No exceptions.

The sooner young people understand this, the better. Once they understand and accept their mortality, they can begin to focus on planning what to do with the time they have on this planet. They can focus on how to live their lives. They can think about what kind of impact or influence they will have on their families, friends, and society.

I hope to leave this earth a little better for me having been here. I pray my young relatives will eventually have similar aspirations.

Don't tell anyone, but I was up at 04:00 watching the Royal wedding. When Kate walked down the aile of the abbey and the boys choir started to sing, it sounded like the gates of heaven opend up and the angels were singing. Those kids could sing! When my namesakes put on a party, they don't play. I was totally impressed.

I was in the Marine Drum and Bugle Corps stationed at a naval air station in Memphis before I went to Vietnam, so I'm a sucker for pageantry. The carriages. The mounted soldiers in all their regalia. The bands. I was in pomp and circumstance Disneyland!

My racing thoughts kept me up all night, so this was better than anything I usually see in the middle of the night. I've been both manic and depressed simultaneously for over three years. Back to the wedding.

Earlier in the week, the American reporters were covering all the souvenirs that were popping up all over England related to the wedding. That started me thinking about my souvenirs.

I have a habit of collecting unusual souvenirs. My souvenir from Vietnam? Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The souvenir I brought back from three years in the Alaskan bush? My daughter!

Now I have a new souvenir. Five months ago I had major surgery. I had to have part of my colon removed. After the surgery I had a life threatening infection. That wasn't the souvenir. Just part of the whole experience.

Last week I got out of the shower and happened to look in the mirror while I was drying off. And there it was. My new souvenir. Right under my surgical incision. A hernia. God save the King!

My grandfather was one of the most interesting people I ever knew. He did not have much formal education (he was born about 20 years after slavery ended), but he was smart as a whip and very entrepreneurial. As far back as I can remember he always had a business of one kind or another.

He and my grandmother were complete opposites and were separated my whole childhood. From family oral history, I knew he always was a good provider. When my father, uncle, and aunt were grown my grandfather started a family business. A dry cleaners with one store in the city and another store and cleaning plant in Baltimore county.

He was gruff, funny, and cursed a lot, and my grandmother was quiet, proper, and religious. What a pair! They seemed to love each other but could not live under the same roof. I think it may have to do with my grandfather's main business. Whorehouses. He ran a whorehouse until the day he died at age 87. I learned a lot hanging around him and his cast of characters. And not just the obvious!

He taught me to be self sufficient and not to depend on a job for survival. He came along way before social security. He said to learn a skill or craft you could use regardless of what the job market was like, and you'll never go hungry.

He made bathtub gin, ran numbers, had grocery stores, and of course, the good time houses. I've learned how to teach/train. I can always hustle up a workshop. I also know how to drive over the road. Sooner or later everything goes by truck to somewhere.

He taught me how to size people up without being judgemental. He also taught me everyone has a story and everyone is interesting. Good things to know, and I got a Phd. in his whorehouse. I met people who looked like dimwits who talked about philosophy and art. Flashy characters who knew about African American history. I got valuable lessons in looking at people under the surface and behind the mask.

By the way, I didn't get a bicycle for my fourteenth birthday. It pays to have a Pop with a good time house!

It has been highly suggested that I not avoid the things and emotions associated with my PTSD. This will be the first time I have EVER disclosed this publicly, so I chose to do it in a big but sort of safe way. Through my blog:

It was a hot and sunny day in northeast Thailand during the late winter-early spring of 1973. The war was officially over, but not for the First Marine Airwing. We were supposed to stop bombing the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong. "Tricky Dick" Nixon and Henry Kissenger decided to pull a fast one.

They ordered my unit to move operations to Thailand (a neutral country) to bomb eastern Cambodia (another neutral country) where the Vietnamese had set up logistical shop(very,very illegal for both partys). My job was to keep the secret computerized fire control system of the A-6 fighter aircraft operational. This system selected targets, chose the appropriate weapons, and fired those weapons at the targets. Thus, fire control system.

This particular day, a Gunnery Sergeant approached me and asked"Have you found a good hiding place?"This question verified the rumors from the guys in communications. We were supposed to expect an attack from an overwhelming force and would probably receive about 80-85% casualties. OMG! I'm going to die! When the intel says to expect up to 85% casualties, I don't expect to be in the lucky 15%.

If I was in the 15% would I be taken prisoner and tortured, or just killed later, or both? This was definitely not looking good from my point of view. I wanted out of here and out yesterday!

We waited 10 long, excruciating days to die, and nothing happened. Morale was low because there were not enough weapons for everyone. There should have been, but this was war, not a perfect world, thus the talk about hiding places. Hell, I was a Marine. I wanted to go down fighting. Get it when I least expected it with adrenaline running at warp speed, not cringing in a hole shitting my pants. Talk about hopeless and helpless.

I gathered rocks for weapons (weapons of opportunity the Marines call it). Made spears and clubs. I felt more like a caveman thah a Marine. I wrote good bye letters to my parents and sisters, even the girl I broke up with (in a stupid attempt to protect myself from a Dear John letter [she kept writing anyway]).

My shop was in a thin walled office trailer. You could stand outside and just shoot in. My superiors said to destroy the classified equipment I worked on. I asked my coworkers the SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for destroying the equipment. I was low man on the totem pole and would surely get that job. They told me to blow the gear up with explosives.

I jumped for joy. This was my way out. The first time I ever thought of suicide, but masked with the task of keeping our secret gear out of enemy hands. Shoot, I might even get a posthumous medal! I was in Combat Heaven!

The whole 10 days the explosive ordinance guys kept blowing up dud mortars and artillery shells. Nerve wracking. Everytime I heard an explosion, I thought "This is it. Showtime". That's one reason I HATE thunderstorms. This is just one of a number of bad experiences I had here. I loathed this place.

Well folks, I really don't like telling war stories. I'd rather not dredge up these memories or emotions. You know what though? I think I'm starting to feel better. NOT!!!!!