Cosmic Breadcrumbs

Don't Go Back To Sleep

2012-01-27T00:06:00.003-06:00

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

Don't go back to sleep.

- Rumi

You are a divine creator.

Each moment of every day offers the richest of privileges to access the power of that creative energy. To say or believe otherwise is like sleepwalking - functioning in this world, yet oblivious to the infinite ways and means by which Universal Presence longs to co-create.

We are asleep to our true nature when we make another responsible for any unhappiness.

We are asleep to our essential self when we flee or fight our present day circumstances.

We are asleep to our authentic being when we fall prey to the great lie of comparison.

13th Century Sufi poet Rumi encourages us to wake up. Shake yourself from your sleepwalking and embrace your creative potential.

I realized long ago that in my world of effect, there will always be someone smarter, prettier/handsomer, richer, braver, and more talented than me. And eventually I learned that the gift of life isn't about any of that; it's about ceaselessly taking inventory of all the gifts I do possess and never abusing them through the waste of comparison.

I repeat - you are a divine creator. No one can create it, design it, BE it exactly like you.

The world eagerly awaits your individualized expression. This is your reason for being here.

Don't go back to sleep.

Year End Resolutions

2011-12-31T09:21:00.004-06:00

click 'save as' to download this poster version

Did I express love this year, real love? The kind of love that doesn't announce itself in flashy

circumstances or structured conditions - but an authentic, quiet, internal love? The kind of love

that bubbles to the surface when I gaze at another with understanding, a love that places me in their

shoes, granting freedom from judgment and deepening my compassion? A philanthropic love that expresses

because it simply feels compelled to, because it knows there is more than enough and everyone can benefit.

If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my authentic loving.

Did I forgive this year, really forgive? The kind of forgiveness that cracks open my heart, peeling away

one more layer of righteous indignation, thus allowing my soul to breathe? The kind of forgiveness that

loosens my clinched fists held high at a situation so that I don't enter into the next one with guarded

mistrust? The kind of forgiveness that comprehends there is a difference between understanding a

behavioral choice and condoning it? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my forgiving.

Did I stop this year, really stop? The kind of stopping that can't help but make me vulnerable by

becoming more familiar with who I am without distraction, smoke screens, excuses or self-imposed

numbing? The kind of stopping that turns me, naked, towards my feelings, giving them permission to

express? No right or wrong - a stopping that simply lets me hear what I need to hear so that I can live

more effectively? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in allowing myself to stop.

Did I seek adventure this year, real adventure? The kind of adventure that requires me to not only take a

leap of faith off my cliff of familiarity but actually sends me back to get a running start? The kind of

adventure that shakes the dust off my capable but underused wings and gives them an opportunity to catch

the gorgeous wind of change? The kind of adventure that knows there is no outside safety net in this

physical world, only an internal one? The kind of adventure that shouts, "I choose to live fully!" If

not, then I resolve to be and do better in seeking adventure.

Did I seek wellness this year, real wellness? The kind of wellness that requires me to be fully

conscious of what I put in my body - the kind of wellness that requires me to practice what I preach

when it comes to self-love while understanding that the power to dissolve poor habits starts by simply

choosing to change? Wellness that says, "This is the only body you've got. Treat me with respect, praise me

daily and honor me as the holy temple that I am?" If not, then I resolve to be and do better in allowing

wellness in my life.

Did I play this year, really play? The kind of play that gives value to the heavenly activity of fun -

knowing that fun is sacred, that play is the equivalent of work and that during play - renewal and

relaxation usher in the newest ideas and the clearest choices for better manifestations? Did I view play as

a necessary life function and not a debatable luxury? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my

relationship to playing.

Did I set a goal and see it to completion this year, really complete it? The kind of completion that lets

the vibration of satisfaction and confidence in my abilities heal any opposing ideas of not being good

enough? Did I honor my life and its sacred purpose by utilizing my time with forward thinking and letting my

mistakes be motivators not antagonists? Did I dissolve my insecurities and procrastination by understanding

that my untapped genius has but one mode of expression and that is through idea, thought, word and action?

If not, then I resolve to be and do better in setting and completing my goals.

Did I open myself up to learn this year, really learn? The kind of learning that entices me to enroll

in being a student of life with thirst and enthusiasm? Did I set an intention for uncovering more of my

potential, letting divine intellect eat from my plate and stepping deeper into the waters of wisdom? Did I

open a book, take a class, study a language, learn an instrument, write a poem, visit another culture? Did

I learn to surprise and thrill myself with the infinite capacity I have to master more than I thought

I could? If not, then I resolve to be and do better on my personal path of learning.

Did I clean up my relationships this year, really clean them up? The kind of cleaning that requires me

to break open the lock, pull back the curtain, throw open the window and start removing the dust of harsh

words, grudges, false accusations and misguided choices that have layered my heart? Did I make amends

for the fearful ways that disheartened another, for neglecting to honor their point of view? With careful

examination, did I communicate my truth, understanding that sometimes all we may be able to do is agree to

disagree and to do so without judgement or malice? If not, then I resolve to be and do better on cleaning up

my relationships.

Did I share my good this year, really share? The kind of sharing that comes from the pure joy of seeing

another succeed, not from what I think they can or will do for me in return? Did I tithe back to where I

was spiritually fed, transformed and inspired? Did I practice random acts of kindness and give of my time,

talent, and treasure realizing that my good is a part of a never-ending wellspring that cannot run dry -

whose source is and always will be the infinite wellspring of the Divine? Did I commit to walking the

altruistic path, remembering that every step brings healing and enlightenment to the world? If not, then

I resolve to be and do better in my sharing.

Did I pray this year, really pray? The kind of prayer that is spoken not to God but AS God - prayers

that affirm rather than beseech, are pregnant with knowing rather than bloated with doubt? Did I make my

every day activities a prayer - realizing that every thought I think carries with it the responsibility of

an effect on the world? Did I remember how truly powerful my own prayer actually is and that by simply

devoting myself to the practice of it, I become the change? Did I remember that my prayer takes what I

seek and introduces it to me, the seeker? If not, then I resolve to be and do better with praying.

Did I do all these things because deep down inside I fully understand how precious I am and that these

activities will help me to see that I am held in the light as a perfect idea? Did I remember that I have

been perfectly conceived and am always held in the perfect mind of God as perfect being? Did I know that

there is nothing that I can ever say, nothing I can ever do that will separate me from the love of God?

If for any reason, I forgot my divinity this year, then I resolve to be and do better in my knowing of

it, to fully understand and embody the truth that it is done unto me as I believe. And I believe in the

power of Good, for me, for you, for all.

Love Is An Experience

2011-12-24T20:59:00.004-06:00

Recently featured in an airline magazine was a beautifully written article about the migration of monarch butterflies and their winter resting place - a forest in the Michoacan summit of Mexico.

The author and naturalist ended the story of the butterflies remarkable sojourn by telling how his guide had found a female drowning in a puddle, weak and freezing. The native guide held her in his hand to provide warmth and began feeding the winged beauty by squeezing nectar from a flower into her mouth.

"She could smell it," he recalled.

The butterfly drank the contents of four flowers, regained her strength and flittered away.

I thought, "That's what we offer when we love something or someone as much as this guide loved butterflies. We offer sustenance/fuel for the experience of life."

Every single one of us can recall times when we felt as though we were drowning in the effects of our earthly world.

I pray we become a society that can equally recall those times when angels among us cared enough to hold us in the light of truth, warm our hearts with compassion, and were patient in feeding us the right amount of guidance to get us back on a conscious path.

Perhaps no greater act can ever come close to matching the life giving force of love than our taking the time to express appreciation for it.

Love defies the boundaries of definition. Just as teaching doesn't build a fire, love cannot be explained or taught through fancy texts or the stringing together of words. Love will only be understood through expression and experience.

At this time of holiday gift-giving and recognition, why not take the time to let those who have been those merciful angels in your life know how you feel.

Take the time to cradle and nurture the people and things you love with deliberate action and care. In so doing, you become a catalyst in helping one another strengthen and rediscover our wings.

Tree of Life

2011-10-20T13:31:00.001-05:00

Chatter

2011-10-17T14:59:00.004-05:00

Over the loud speaker in the grocery store, I heard a rather amusing country song with a chorus that went, "Swing batter batter, swing batter batter, swing batter batter swwwwiiinnnggg."

There, in the produce section, my mind traveled back in time to remembrances of Little League Baseball games and how we were coached to chant this from the outfield when the opposing team was up to bat. It was suppose to distract them, break their concentration and make the player's time at bat as ineffectual as possible.

However, this was no sure fire way of disrupting the batter, for even with our adolescent chanting, some still managed to hit the ball successfully.

I smiled at the corollary to our ongoing spiritual journey.

The world serves up quite a bit of chatter and disruption, distracting us from our inherent knowing of the Divine's presence. Regardless of the level of that 'noise', our continued intention is to physically, materially, and spiritually remember what was expressed in Genesis... we are made in the image and the likeness of God and one of our inherited God-qualities is the creative nature of our thought.

We are forever strengthening our ability to channel that thought towards conscious possibility and expansive expression.

The earthly chatter may be a resounding, "You're a failure. You're not good enough."

But one must remember, it's only chatter - not your truth.

Through concentration on truth, we strengthen and sustain a loyal ownership towards our personal value. This is really no different than the concentration and discipline needed to complete any work-oriented task. The great author and motivator Og Mandino once reminded that "drops of water, by continually falling, hone their passage through the hardest of rocks but the hasty torrent rushes over it with hideous uproar and leaves no trace behind."

Honing away at earthly chatter is the same. We transcend it by linking one quiet moment to the next even through life's uproars.

How beautiful to know that we have dominion over the world's chattering of less than, not enough, and other messages of scarcity.

Quiet, meditative moments always reveal a greater message that speaks of our unlimited potentiality. We connect our thoughts to boundless demonstrations of good. And we step up to the plate in this game of life with willingness and expectancy of right action.

The Process of Progress

2011-08-03T14:39:00.010-05:00

Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late. You don't have to like it... it's just easier if you do. - Byron Katie

For over a month and a half, the fig tree in my front yard has shown the promise of producing a rather prolific harvest. Every week I'd walk out to the yard, stand underneath and look for signs of ripening. Yet, with every viewing I'd see the same sized green spheres clinging to the vine - no ripening in sight. Why do I not see progress?

I stopped the randomly scheduled viewings. I stopped comparing the time frame that my tree in Alabama produced to this one in Georgia. I stopped thinking about it altogether.

Walking up my driveway this morning, I happened to turn and look at the tree and lo and behold, it was covered with beautiful ripened figs.

Byron Katie's quote above reminds us that everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late - everything. Nature consistently offers up its wisdom by teaching us to trust. It inherently understands the brilliance of the process. The wisdom within the fig tree knows.

The wisdom within us knows as well.

Life invites us all to relax into the process of progress.

As evolutionary beings, we are and will always be in the midst of our own natural growth spurt. In other words, we will eternally be in the midst of personal progress. But our trust in the process of our progress tempers the entire experience.

Journalist Paul Sweeney commented, "How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners and instant cameras teach patience to its young?" The world of "I want what I want when I want it" hardly ever works harmoniously with the schedule of Infinite Intelligence.

I recall innumerable times in life when certain ideas and plans that I'd bargained on, sweated over and efforted to make happen, didn't, only to breathe deep sighs of relief over how detours and delays worked together for my greater good.

Currently, I see myself involved and devoted to greater and greater arenas of passionate expression. I visualize enthusiastic, committed supporters for my school in Cambodia. I see channels of revenue opening up that I never conceived of. I see myself allowing surprise and expansive thinking for bringing about solution for Khmer Child Foundation and the ever-growing population of children deserving education.

I see this mentally AND, like so many of us, I tend to want that funding yesterday.

Admittedly, part of me is metaphorically walking up to my tree of expansion and not always seeing the results I yearn for. Yet, I am reminded that the right moment has already been created - our solution does exist and that harvest is inevitable.

I must remember Nature's wisdom. I've decided to use the visual of the fig tree to create a mindfulness practice. These weeks, as the tree continues to produce more and more fruit, I take it all in, breathe and whisper to myself, "Everything is unfolding perfectly."

The Universe encourages me to relax - let go of my timeline and open up to the Infinite's timeline. It's potent wisdom to pass on. Whatever we are involved in individually and collectively - it's unfolding right on time.

Rally For Inclusion

2011-08-02T21:32:00.004-05:00

Filmed in Atlanta, Georgia on June 26, 2011
Featuring Bishop Carlton Pearson, Pastor D E Paulk and Rev. Dr. David Ault

Pro-Love Rally - Atlanta, GA June 2011

2011-07-23T19:43:00.002-05:00

Innerfaith Communities marching together in Atlanta, GA to promote the universal possibility that only Love is real.

Featuring Rev. Dr. David Ault, Bishop Carlton Pearson and Pastor D.E. Paulk

Rally For Inclusion

2011-06-29T22:06:00.004-05:00

Watching this might restore your faith in our ability as human beings to set differences aside and authentically get along.

This was our attempt at combining a Sunday celebration service with those of a traditional Pentecostal background, Cathedral of the Holy Spirit in Decatur, GA along with Spiritual Living Center of Atlanta, a New Thought/Religious Science/Ancient Wisdom teaching center where I serve as senior minister in Atlanta, GA.

We called it a Rally For Inclusion and it was a two day event complete with a Pro-Love March through downtown Atlanta and our combined service on Sunday.

Our featured guest was Bishop Carlton Pearson along with myself and Pastor D. E. Paulk.

Please, take the time to watch what could actually be a first (but we affirm will not be the last).

chs_live on livestream.com. Broadcast Live Free

Risky Business

2011-06-23T11:19:00.017-05:00

In the early 1980’s I was captivated by Shirley MacLaine’s book Out On A Limb – particularly with her quote…in order to get to the fruit of the tree, you have to go out on a limb.

Other versions of the same sentiment read;

Don't be afraid to go out on the limb. That's where the fruit is.

~ H Jackson Browne

What is more mortifying than to feel you've missed the Plum for want of courage to shake the Tree? ~ Logan Pearsall Smith

We seem to carry

within us two conflicting energies – the one willing to dare, risk and embrace the unknown and the other which fearfully locks into prudence and guaranteed safety.

From a spiritual perspective, we could choose to view our approach to navigating the mysteries of life from a simple, singular directive – our intuition.

Becoming in touch with our ever present internal guidance system tells us when to leap and when to not. It moves us out of the realm of the external, rational mind and offers us the chance to exercise our faith by embracing the unknown. Intuition invites us to not to be afraid of progress and the process of risk.
Ask yourself, “Where am I afraid to move forward because of something from my past?”

Our breakthroughs lie out on that proverbial limb of fresh perspective and willingness.

Sometimes the fruit is attainable the moment we inch our way out onto risk's seemingly skinny branches. Sometimes the branch breaks, we fall, feel stupid, stand-up and see the fruit lying next to us on the ground. Sometimes....

Regardless the process, the intention of embracing the adventure will always bring harvest. The more we are willing to be the vessel for the Infinite to express, the more it can. The more we quiet the turbulence of our doubt and simply listen to what our "gut" is telling us, the more the adventure becomes thrilling. We disregard the naysayers and maintain our spiritual identity through the valley's of fearing what other's will think. Many great ideas have been lost because the people who had them could not stand being laughed at.

Ironically, it requires far less energy to embrace the adventure than it does to resist it.
As the Roman philosopher Seneca said, “It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare, it is because we do not dare that they are difficult.”

Here’s to seeing you out on the skinny branches.

For A Moment

2011-06-09T16:47:00.004-05:00

For a moment every eye sees a petal begin its journey from stem to ground. And in that thimble full of time where all worry becomes extinct—all futurizing over what might be or what could happen ceases, then the world, in relaxation, unites in the joy of the now. Yes, imagine for a moment there is no worry.

For a moment every inhale welcomes wellness and the world feels relief from the accompanying pains of disease. The air hums with the sighs of billions expressing their collective relief. Yes, imagine for a moment there is no pain.

For a moment everybody wins and the victory circle is electric with the hugs, handshakes, and prayerful bows of authentic acknowledgment. It is the delicious moment when every mind with every heart conceives the truth that there is more than enough for all. Yes, imagine for a moment that everybody wins.

For a moment all are able to forgive every thing and every one from every page of the past; every thought of separation, every grievance and grudge. Brother understands brother, sister their sister; child understands parent, and parent their child; and the world is awash with liberation. Yes, imagine for a moment that all forgive.

For a moment there is no hunger and the bellies of all children and adults are filled with the precise nourishment their body is craving. Food is equally portioned and equally shared and all races and religions discover that by sharing, one need never suffer from hunger again. Yes, imagine for a moment there is an end to hunger.

For a moment every person, everywhere is active in their passion—doing what they love. Self doubt has evaporated and each heart beats with the rhythm of confidence. Creativity is a sacred act for the soul without concern for recompense or approval. Time and deadline is replaced with being lost in the joy of doing what one loves. Yes, imagine for a moment that everyone is living their passion.

For a moment every conscious thought tilts towards reverent action for the earth. The planet is nurtured and treated with sacred intention. Every ounce of air and water is pure. Pollution is a distant memory and each inhabitant contributes to unprecedented ecological stability. Yes, imagine for a moment the earth is healed.

For a moment every heart has someone to love and someone who loves them back. For every soul there is a connection and for every connection there is an appreciative soul. Loyalty, devotion and respect are as natural and effortless to embody as breathing. Yes, imagine for a moment that true love exists for all.

And with each imagined moment linked to the other, we stretch those moments to an occasion, those occasions to hours, those hours into days. And in those collections of days where the imagination is free to think as big and as grand as it can, we begin to see and feel the shifts—our planet, our hearts, our passions, our lives—all expanding and guiding us into a new era of living.

©2007 David Ault

I Am Safe, I Am Secure

2011-06-04T20:58:00.008-05:00

Only in growth, reform, and change, paradoxically enough, is true security to be found.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

We all "act out" from time to time.

Acting out, much like a child's tantrum or pouting, is often based on a false premise that something is being denied us. Either we believe there isn't enough, someone is taking our share or we lose ourselves in the illusion of us and them.

The Universe is constant in it's assurance that we live in a world of unlimited supply - not just monetarily, but unlimited in all things - be it ideas, be it success, be it love. Forgetting and remembering that cosmic support makes up the cycle of our life experience.

Imagine that every conversation begins with the words, "You are safe. You are secure."

How would you feel? Perhaps all rigid physical posturings and verbal inflections would soften and we could meet life with that expectancy of good that materializes by conscious recognition and invitation.

Life would not connect from the intellect but would thrive from the heart.

That sense of security is here now and it's vibrancy is in direct proportion to our participation with it.

Try it. Tell yourself, "I am safe. I am secure." Allow your inevitable growth to be influenced by joy and allowing.

Beginner's Allowing

2011-04-08T22:26:00.009-05:00

In 1978, after my freshman year in college, I toured in a summer music group for Oral Roberts University. My participation became entangled with feelings of hypocrisy.

Fulfilling family expectations clashed with the reality that I did not want to be there, having already grown weary of the religious dogma that saturated my entire upbringing. Yet, the opportunity to reduce my mounting tuition with the accompanying scholarship money won out over any remorse I might collect from proselytizing and luring unsuspecting youth to consider coming to ORU.

In spite of being a mere freshman and competing against scores of upper classmates, I got accepted, placed into one of several tour "bands", then was whisked away on three months worth of one-nighters. It was a summer filled with innumerable concerts and innumerable casseroles, driving from one scheduled church stop to the next. Long hours became long days as my bandmates and I crammed inside a mini tour bus, covering six states throughout the Southern region of the country - singing about the glories of God, Oral Roberts and recruiting for that space-aged looking university.

I was miserable and hot, yet I learned how to eat around gnats when given a cucumber and mayonnaise sandwich outdoors in the middle of an Arkansas summer church social.

Jerry Florence, who later become one of my singing partners in the 80′s trio Alliance, was in charge of these ORU music groups. He was a new graduate and worked for the university overseeing tour schedules, bookings and accommodations.

Jerry and I bonded during that summer when he would make surprise "spot checks" on each band. I marveled at his musical genius and business savvy and I'd placed him high upon a hero's pedestal. But the University thought otherwise and about halfway through the summer, he’d become privy to the fact that he was getting fired at the conclusion of the current tours . I lamented over how I would survive another 3 years there without his friendship. The news wrecked all my 19 year old plans.

Jerry talked of doing something wild and crazy the week after the tour ended and before school resumed. He asked if I wanted to participate and I responded as any pedestal projecting, hero-worshiping teen would do to their newest idol. I screamed, "yes!"

Jerry came up with the idea of deep sea fishing in Aransas Pass, a port somewhere off Padre Island in South Texas. It wasn’t a particularly “wild” choice but neither of us had ever been and it sounded like one of those rugged things you would have on your lists of 100 things to do before you die.

We took Dramamine for 24 hours before our departure and yet, as we bounded out to sea, I still felt as though everything I had ever eaten might revisit me. As the boat rocked and hurled from side to side in the pre-dawn darkness, traveling miles and miles out on the choppy waters of the Gulf of Mexico, I breathed deeply and bargained with the equilibrium gods to intervene.

After sunrise and closer inspection of our fellow journeymen, I observed that Jerry and I were the only ones on the boat who were not fishermen by trade. We were faux fishermen surrounded by seasoned pros wearing caps with hooks and carrying extra lures in their moist pockets.

It became apparent, after leaving the dock, that Jerry had gotten us onto a commercial charter, not a tourist charter, not an "oh let’s just cast a line out and enjoy the day charter." No, this was one where each man looked at the other with a sense of distrust, wanting to taint the others bait buckets with some homemade, concocted fish repellant. This was competitive fishing. This was ESPN fishing. The crazy part of the wild and crazy intention had surfaced.

I decided to pretend I knew what I was doing. I baited and cast my line.

The next hour became a salty sea air blur.

No sooner had I settled in for some ripple watching when I got a hard jolt on the end of my line. The reel began to swiftly spin, dispensing the line so alarmingly fast that I froze while the nylon cord emptied out further into the choppy water.

"Nothing happens on the first cast," I remember thinking, yet, in a matter of seconds, the shouting of the others on board snapped me out of my daze and I began pulling back and bucking the line, gripping harder on the handle and watching the pole arch and bend as I strained to hold on. My knuckles were white from lack of blood flow and the mystery on the other end seemed hell-bent on rebelling. Grunting and gasping out, "Excuse me," I started crawling over and under the rest of the fishermen that encircled the deck. Round and round I went, and every time I got to starboard, they would all shout Three! then Four! Five! Six! Six times around the boat as the remained-to-be-seen fish drug me around in circles.

On that sixth round, several sympathizers had gathered around me with a net and a bunch of extra hands, offering assistance in raising my catch out of the water.

There it was, the results of my efforting - a 47lb King Mackerel.

The weigh station attendant on shore commented that it was one of the largest caught in those waters all summer.

Some high-fived me, saying “Congratulations,” but the majority of those men simply gave me the hard stare, muttering under their breaths, "Beginner’s luck."

Beginner's luck.....

Now, as a metaphysician, I've learned to let go of the notion of luck. There is no randomness involved in creation. Creation is deliberate. I understand that everything unfolds according to consciousness. So it stands to reason that this anomaly seen as beginner’s luck may be more accurately defined as beginner’s allowing.

As beginner’s in anything, we haven’t yet developed our muscles of cynicism, disappointment or the resistance accompanied with doubt. With beginner’s, there’s still a sense of optimism - a child-like clean slate of acceptance where all kinds of possibilities stand on tiptoe - a natural expectancy of good that seems to whisper to us, of course - of course you caught the fish - of course you got the job - of course you made a perfect score on your exam. It is our BEING on COURSE, unencumbered by the jaded perspective that sometimes accompanies those who’ve been around life's block. As a beginner we are in a much greater state of natural allowing. Consciousness responds to that, creating demonstration the way it always can be - swift and yes, natural.

When we look at our relationship to what we expect, so many of us plant seeds of futility, disappointment and judgment based on our collective history.

How do we go back and allow - allow without the attachment of futile conditions, allow with the zeal of a child at Christmas, allow because we understand that nothing is separating us from our good but our directed thought? That state of purity still exist within each of us and it waits for recognition. Are you willing to recognize it and welcome it into your immediate experience? Doing so does not require us to have the "how" figured out. In fact the "how" is really none of our business. The simple requirement of returning back to beginner's allowing is letting go of the need to control and opening the door of our lives to that steadfast creative energy. Steadfast means it never left us. That innocent welcoming from our childhood is still very much alive inside us today.

Strengthen your allowing by beginning to simply breath in, saying to yourself, “I Allow.” On the exhale say, “I Release All Resistance.”

Inhale ”I Allow."

Exhale - "I Release All Resistance."

I go for weeks using this simple breathing mantra as my entire meditation. My aim? To become more and more a vessel for conscious allowing - more and more to look at the "big catches" in life and naturally say, “Of course.”

Courage?

2011-03-28T21:19:00.007-05:00

What is courage, really?

Lately I’ve found myself curious over conversations about courage: the lack of – developing the muscle of – mustering up enough….

When people say that they lack the courage to… then one would have to strongly consider that getting some would be the means to a desired end.

But is it?

I continue to get clearer on the spiritual truth that the ways and means to everything we will ever need rests within. Quite simply, we are enough. We are designed with ultimate intelligence and the ability to thrive. And if we are not experiencing that, it isn’t that these qualities do not exist or that they are reserved for an elite few, it’s that you and I are not using them to their greater potential.

Feeling the need for courage fosters a belief that on some fundamental level, we’re not enough or that we don’t have what it takes.

You need courage to walk into that interview? No, you need to know that you are enough.

You need courage to stand up for yourself in a family or work situation? No, you need to remember that you are enough and that the greater truth will always rise to the top. Your only job is to remain true to your integrity.

You need courage to face a diagnosis? No, you need to remember that you are enough. There is an intelligence inside you that welcomes recognition. There is a beauty inside you that welcomes recognition. There is a divine order inside you that welcomes recognition. Recognize it now.

You need courage to face the aftermath of a natural disaster? No, you have an opportunity to remember that even in the midst of apparent chaos, there is an undeniable order that looks forward to displaying itself in the days, months and years to come. You are divinely cared for.

"Well, then I need courage to know that I am enough," we'll argue.

No, you are enough period.

You see, the quest for courage feels comparative to a quest for a band-aid to apply over the wound of our illusional thinking. The wound is only as real as we give it power to be. Stop the perception that you are damaged or lacking and the need to fix those defects also stops. It’s illusions that we buy into – the “not-enoughness” – that makes a market for the buying and selling of courage.

The more credence we give these illusions of dualism, the more important that commodity of courage seems to be.

Disassociate from the fear of not being enough and you can kiss the need for a quest for courage goodbye.

Perhaps it is simply time to wake up.

Wake up to the truth that the qualities of God are our qualities because we are made in the likeness and image of that which is the Creator – Infinite Intelligence. Just as a single drop of ocean water possesses all the same elements and properties that are found in the ocean as a whole, so, too, do you and I possess all the perfection of that which created worlds.

Yes, we carry around that much potential. We are a part of the One Mind.

Feeling this need to go after courage means that we have fallen asleep to the reality of who we are.

Do you think that Spirit, God, Infinite Intelligence ever feels the need for more courage? Of course not. That divine energy is unfailingly aware of its abilities.

Several years ago my home was broken into and laptops and jewelry were taken. There was also minor property damage and a couple of really scared golden retrievers left in the wake of the intrusion.

Initially I was stunned. This was my first experience of being robbed and I could not seem to shake the feeling of being violated – my sanctuary spoiled. Others in my household were also visibly shaken. And so this scenario seemed like the perfect launch for all of us to gather up our courage and move forward. No, it was an opportunity to remember that we were enough for we are divinely protected regarding the things that are of real importance and that nothing of spiritual value can ever be taken away by another.

Each one in my household was given the opportunity to remember that the items taken were stuff. “Stuff” can be replaced. Insurance forms can be filled out. Upgrades in the home can be made. What was not and can never be taken is our ability to think. I started reciting one of my favorite affirmations, “This too is good. This too is of God. And I demand to see the blessing in it.”

Blessings showed up in the days that unfolded, old energies were shaken up and I can now marvel at the spectacular changes that entered my personal life after that incident. That break in was a "break through" in moving on to a higher level of living. Getting caught up in the story and attempting to muster up courage to move forward only stalls the flow of the wonderful revelations that this event offered.

As Christopher Robin said to Pooh, “Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.”

Yes – always remember that.

Cambodia 2011

2011-01-31T08:48:00.011-06:00

Thursday January 27th
Angkor Wat

One of the wonders of the world

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angkor_Wat

Cambodia 2011

2011-01-28T22:00:00.008-06:00

Wednesday - January 26

Up early so we can greet the kids at school by 7:30 AM

Classes happen in 3 shifts -
8 to noon; 1 - 5 PM and evening English classes offered to adults.

Desks we purchased on Monday are delivered during the middle of the night thanks to befriending a local truck owner.

30 wooden two-seater desk, along with a brand new dry erase board await the children like presents on Christmas morning .
Nothing is taken for granted and it is deeply gratifying to watch how every piece of paper, pencil, crayon, scissor and bottle of glue is revered.

Major emphasis is placed on learning English and basic math. Today we focus on the letter Q and beginning multiplication tables.

The big treat today is to learn a new song.

I pull an old children's song out of my repertoire that I never did anything with called I Can't Help But Blossom. It takes quite awhile to interpret each line's meaning into Khmer, but eventually everyone get's a grasp on the meaning.

Opening line: I can't help but blossom, I can't help but grow is illustrated by the association of the lotus blossom - so sacred in Buddhist culture.

We sing it over and over, add a little choreography and even get a little help from the neighboring rooster.

Ty helps to film it and it will be a fun challenge to come up with a way to incorporate it into a recording once I am back in the states. Perhaps a new fund raising single is waiting to be born. :-)

I can't help but blossom
I can't help but grow
When knowing deep in my heart is planted
A love this world must know

I can't help but prosper
I can't help but shine, shine, shine
With every beat of my heart I'm sharing
This life with all divine.

Cambodia 2011

2011-01-28T00:20:00.015-06:00

Tuesday - January 25th

Temple explorations today.

Ta Prohm 6 AM arrival - experiencing sunrise inside the courtyard of the temple made famous by Angelina Jolie. Inside Ta Prohn is where many segments of the movie Tomb Raider were filmed back in 2000.

Read Ta Prohm's history beyond Hollywood's recent notoriety.

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/cambodia/angkor-ta-prohm

Bayon at sunset - One of my all time favorites. This intricately designed complex hosts the towers of the 4 faces of Buddha - representing compassion, sympathy, equanimity and charity.

With Ohm as the top rated tour guide of the country and also the one who escorts all documentary filmmakers, the BBC, etc., he knows the value that sunset offers in capturing this most majestic structure.

Read more - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayon
http://www.holiday-in-angkor-wat.com/bayon.html

Cambodia

2011-01-26T23:45:00.011-06:00

Monday - January 24th

It's 9 AM and my Khmer Child Foundation co-directors, Ohm and Theany, along with Ty and a representative from the Royal Government - advisor to the Prime Minister H. E. Sam Rith, climb into the school van which stateside fundraising helped purchase.

At first I'm not sure why the advisor is with us. Ohm says it's natural for the CPP (Cambodian People's Party) to have an interest in any foreign citizen or diplomat who actively contributes to the betterment of the Khmer people. I learn he's interested in recruiting me to invest in an MOU - memorandum of understanding - a $3500 a year membership agreement that outlines my humanitarian activities for social welfare and public benefit. By doing so, I am afforded certain privileges from the Royal Government. Bottom line: You scratch our back, we'll scratch yours.

We are headed to Phum Thol Kruos - a neglected, poor region about 64 kilometers to the east of Siem Reap.

Once the paved road ends outside the city limits, the vans wheels stir up thick, reddish dirt clouds as Ohm maneuvers the van around an ongoing obstacle course of uneven dips and potholes.
The slow, constant rise and fall, tossing from side to side motion extends an easy welcome for motion sickness but animated conversation and deep breaths seem to keep things in check.

We are viewing a massive parcel of land that has come available and would be a tremendous farming/revenue opportunity for Khmer Child Foundation. The property is approximately 12 acres which equals 5 hectares and a hectare is roughly .4047 of an acre. Zoning would allow us to commercially farm as well as build another school.

By purchasing this land and farming it with mango groves, rice and other indigenous vegetation, KCF could easily become self sustaining with our mother school/center. This acquisition would also bring about jobs to the people of this region as well as access to clean water and creating the opportunity for a second school for the Phum Thol Krous inhabitants.

Walking in small areas of the uncleared property, Ohm tells how the soil here has not been farmed, containing naturally rich nutrients.

"What would it take to start the process," I ask?

Ohm seems to feel that the local owner would accept a deposit with a promise/contract agreement to pay the remaining monies owed within 7 months. A deposit of $1000 would set the process in motion.

"Let's do it," I say nervously, agreeing to to get additional monies wired for the deposit within a week.

Boy, oh boy have I got some fundraising opportunities before me.

We travel to the far side of the massive space and encounter the villagers. We offer to build a fresh water well this week as a good will gesture and to offer some semblance of hope to them and their futures.

One family - father, mother, three sons and a daughter surrounded by curious neighbors hear of our plans and bow in gratitude. All are illiterate and have never experienced the simple pleasures of clean water.

Sitting with them, the nervousness dissolves and I am left with a renewed and determined conviction to do what I can.

This video is taken on the available property on January 24, 2011
(press far right square for full screen visibility)

Return to Cambodia - Sunday, January 23

2011-01-24T21:17:00.011-06:00

Sitting on the rooftop of the small hotel, I sip my strong coffee and watch how the pinks and milky orange of the sunrise make even the dirtiest parts of the landscape seem translucent. From this vantage spot I look out at the Chinese influenced pagoda rooftops, scattered palm and banana trees, locals on bicycles and motorized tuk tuks and feel at peace.

The warm morning air carries a sweet and smoky aroma from the rubbish, wood and brush fires off in the distance. It reminds me of pipe tobacco and for a moment, I am transported back to the streets of Lisbon, Rome, Palermo, Biarritz - assorted European city's where smoke shops announce their presence blocks away by the vapors and collective exhales of locals and tourist sampling the latest blends.

It is Siem Reap - one of the largest populated areas of Cambodia and THE tourist destination for this part of southeast Asia. With its massive collection of ancient temples, most notably Angkor Wat - ancient-wonder aficionados travel to this smallish sized city of native Khmer locals, whose calm Buddhist demeanor seemingly soothe the chaos of millions who journey here each year.

Eight years ago, I facilitated my first sacred site tour to the area, easily awe-struck by the unparalleled beauty of the ancient Hindu/Buddhist influence and artistry of its massive temple complexes . Now, the intent for my yearly returns expands to supporting the beauty of its citizens.

Cambodia is where I first encountered my greatest distinction between 'the haves and the have nots'. Tourism, although revered as the salvation of this remarkably poor, third-world country, has paradoxically driven many of the locals further into desolate and deplorable land conditions.

My instinct/mission to offer sustainable assistance began by fumbling and bumbling my way towards creating a path in funding the construction of fresh water wells in the innumerable villages. That mission has expanded into the birth of a non-government regulated school for those children considered "disposable" - the orphaned, handicapped and disenfranchised.

Since starting this blog, I have written about my experiences here on previous travels.

Now, with my annual return, my Cambodian friend and business partner Ohm is driving me and traveling companion Ty Andrews to our school site.

It is Sunday, and although school is typically not in session, a group of about 45 children have gathered to welcome me. Singing songs, demonstrating their practiced dancing, shyly staring at me as I take their pictures - Ohm and the ever faithful director of our school Theany go over the much needed repairs, supplies and expansion necessary to support some 200 students.

They are beautiful, resilient beings and there arises a sweet, inexplicable ache inside my heart everytime I'm with them.

Through continued fundraising back in the states, I brought what I had currently raised ($5,000) and we huddled in the makeshift office of the school to decide how best to allocate it.
Number 1 - building another open-aired classroom facility, purchasing desks, installing a bathroom (or happy house as we call it here), repairing the local water well on the school property and then
Number 2 - scouting around for other areas in nearby villages to build wells.
We climb into our van for an afternoon of bargaining/purchasing supplies; i.e. local lumber yards, makeshift furniture stores for school desks, plumbing facilities.

It's been a busy, productive first day and the weariness from the long flights begins to creep in.

We manage an early dinner while watching a one hour local traditional dance show before Ohm returns us to the charming Siddharta Hotel and we collapse into bed for some much needed rest.

There Are Times

2010-12-30T19:20:00.002-06:00

My latest video prose creation with the fantastic studio - All Good Creatives.

One With The World

2010-11-03T20:38:00.001-05:00

From my 2005 CD - One With The World

Trust

2010-10-18T23:48:00.006-05:00

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live. ~ Goethe

As with so many other elements of relationships, trust plays an integral part in developing a mutual, win-win experience. We travel our life path and discover, through those experiences, what it feels like to have been betrayed or the genuine thankfulness that arises when we know that someone “has our back.” For most, we refine and develop our trust muscle in direct correlation to how the world has treated us.

From the spiritual perspective, we are encouraged to trust one above all others – ourselves.

Shakti Gawain writes, “When I am trusting and being myself….everything in my life reflects this by falling into place easily, often miraculously.”

So what does it mean to trust ourselves?

For one thing, it is taking the time to get still enough to hear the incessant whispers of guidance that are forever instructing. Call it the still small voice inside, intuition or Divine Knowing – that inner guidance is your unfailing barometer in making optimum choices. Trusting what we feel guided and directed to do may not unanimously match the outer world’s agendas but it will find a match in others whose guidance is in harmony with our own. Therein lies our tribe, our family of choice. By trusting one’s own inner convictions, we draw to us other mutually trusting souls and the quality of our lives continues to get better and better.

In my current experience, I am navigating myself through new terrain in my career.

I recently accepted the position as Senior Minister for a large, dynamic New Thought community in Atlanta, GA. The environment, the people and the energy is a perfect synthesis of old and new; (old) equated to energies that love the way things were and the style and approach that they are accustomed to - (new) equated to energies that are desirous for and ready to embrace change - change they obviously see me representing.

Both, in existence by themselves, certainly serve a purpose. But for me to attempt to be all things to both energy spectrums is simply not feasible. That's where my own personal opportunity to trust me - to trust David, to do my vision AS David and not what I feel others think David should be, comes in to play.

Choosing that self loyalty can result in all kinds of earthly reaction.

Each day as I open my e-mails or respond to phone messages, I am greeted by the variety of feedback - feedback that may contain praise and gratitude for what I am bringing to the table or a demonizing rhetoric directed at me for what they feel is the loss of something held sacred.

It's a position we all find ourselves in from time to time. It is seductive to try and attempt to please everyone - to take responsibility for the happiness of the masses, as if by doing so, we are justifying our very own existence. We bend and twist our yes responses in so many ways that we forget what an authentic yes even feels like because we have lost our ability to say no.

Trusting yourself requires letting go of the need to be popular.

Imagine what the life of the master teacher Jesus would have played out as, if his intent was to please everyone? His example of personal trust shows how some will follow and some will not. Some, in our life experience, will gravitate to our convictions and some will not. True healing and greater awareness comes when we can release the label of right or wrong on either decision all the while embracing and acting on what feels true for us.

I knew that I had made progress in my own personal journey with self-trust when, after experiencing both types of feedback, I didn't bring either energy home with me. I did my best to respond with well-crafted care and moved on, continuing to implement what my inner guidance leads me to do.

That was this week. We'll see what the weeks ahead bring.

Yet for now, I am feeling the peace that self trust offers and keeping my eyes, ears and heart open to the ease and synchronicities that are appearing as a result.

PRACTICAL APPLICATION: I devote time to the practice of stillness. As I approach this practice, I do so with great expectation, knowing I am about to be given loving guidance. Ask the question, “What is it you would have me know regarding ________?” Listen. Trust. Let go of second guessing yourself. Follow instructions.

It Gets Better

2010-10-16T17:01:00.006-05:00

The worldwide outreach for the It Gets Better Campaign, addressing the
increase of gay teen suicides from bullying and torment, has been nothing
short of miraculous. Celebrities, politicians, performing arts groups, service
men and women and everyday folk who simply care and share their experience
of how time has afforded them the chance to find healing and acceptance, has
caused YouTube to post their biggest upload response to a single event in
their history.
As painful as it was to read the story of Tyler Clementi, we look within
and celebrate the contract this beautiful soul must have had to help bring
more light into this world.

A few of us at Spiritual Living Center Atlanta stayed after second service
to offer our support through video.

We share our heartfelt intention for a world that works for everyone.

Rethinking Special

2010-08-28T21:38:00.009-05:00

There's a fairly common workshop exercise designed to shine light on the idea that we do not travel this life path alone.

I've always referred to it as an affiliation circle.

After discerning the exercise's appropriateness, given the dynamics of the group, I have them stand in one large circle.

Starting off jovial and light, I'll ask, "How many have had coffee this morning?" Those who have are asked to step into the center of the circle, acknowledge their counterparts through eye contact then step back into the circumference of the original circle.

Next, it might be a question like, "How many have traveled more than 100 miles to be here?" Again, those who have, step into the middle of the larger circle, acknowledge with eye contact the others who have also stepped in, then they move back into the original circle.

I'll begin exploring deeper, more personal and emotional terrain.

How many of you are working more than one job to make ends meet?

How many of you are experiencing a foreclosure, the dissolution of a marriage or significant relationship?

How many of you have family members who are battling some form of addiction? How many of you are currently involved in a recovery program?

We explore even deeper.

How many of you were raised in a hostile environment - suffered sexual abuse, incest, rape?

Each time, willing participants who have or are experiencing these things, step into the circle, acknowledge the others who have bravely entered with them and then step back into the original circle.

Inevitably someone will ask, "What's the point? Why bring all of this up?"

As I mentioned in the beginning, the point is to bust the myth that we are alone in our circumstances, alone in our sorrows, and alone in our personal shame. We all travel this life path together and there are many who share our story.

Yet, I feel there's an even greater, deeper reasoning behind the exercise and that is to understand that our personal pain....

.....isn't special.

Consider this:

When we subscribe to the belief that the story of our pain is somehow "special" - somehow so far removed from anyone else's experience, so beyond anyone else's ability to understand, then we completely cut ourselves off from experiencing the freedom from that pain - freedom we say we want, freedom that many pay good money to therapist, psychiatrist and counselors to learn how to achieve.

Making our pain special is much like living our life in waist deep quicksand - never fully sinking yet never fully moving.

My own background began in poverty. My father died when I was seven and I was beaten, screamed at and manipulated by a rage-aholic mother. I was barely average in the world of academia and failed miserably in my early attempts to find my place in the world. My discoveries and desire for love and intimacy were first fueled with shame for being a homosexual, followed by relationship after relationship where I was going to "help" my partner discover how great life could be - really nothing more than ego at play so I could avoid reconciling my own shit. Nearly all ended badly and my physical and emotional heart could well be described as a broken mosaic of shimmering mistakes.

And here's what I have learned regarding all of that - GET IN LINE. Get in line. There is nothing about my story that makes it special - absolutely nothing.

Thankfully, I never stopped my own personal search for a deeper understanding for why I am here and what it is I am to do. I'm grateful and humbled that over time, I woke up to the simple awareness that by holding on to the "specialness" of my pain - my story, that nothing would ever change.

By creating our own brand of specialness around the tragic divorce, the betrayal and abandonment, the demonizing of another person or institution, the loss of whomever, the lay-off, the failed business, the dysfunctional parent, the burned down house, the disease - then specialness becomes the ring master with the bull whip and we are nothing more than the controlled animal inside the ring.

We become more invested in honoring our labels of tragedy than we do in moving forward and getting on with the business of living.

None of this is about discrediting our journey and what we have gone through to get where we are today. But our current lives are served by either looking ahead and using the collective wisdom from our journey to make wiser decisions or either looking back and continually beating the dead horse of our past.

Just today I read a post by someone who ranted at the President for visiting New Orleans on the anniversary of Katrina. Their complaint was that the area of Mississippi where they had lived and lost everything was not given the attention that New Orleans was given. They wanted him to "get in his fancy helicopter and come talk to those along the Coast who lost everything but their lives." Somewhere in there were the words "screw New Orleans..."

Apparently, their loss is somehow more special than the countless lives that actually did die, the thousands of displaced people in the Superdome and the stories from women who endured being raped while there and not having any where else to go.

What I found even sadder than the original post were those who responded in agreement.

Keeping our pain engulfed in the energy of special seems to also carry the potent, toxic ability to erase all sense of oneness.

Believe me, I know it isn't easy. Making our past pain special is seductive. We can argue that most everyone we know does it. And it takes hardly any effort to recruit others to support us in keeping the aura of special polished and shiny.

For me, releasing my pain from the label of special, became the symbolic release of my bloody-knuckled grip on the fence of familiarity. It doesn't mean I don't run back to that fence from time to time but I'm now more aware than ever of the verdant field of freedom that awaits me when I do display the courage to let it go.

I Am Here To Love You

2010-07-31T21:13:00.005-05:00

If I were to ask you to imagine the most comforting words anyone could ever say to you, what would they be?

I thought I’d try asking that for myself and what I finally came up with was simply, “I am here to love you.”

Close your eyes for a moment and allow yourself to hear those words spoken to you.

I am here to love you no matter what – no matter how much you resist or deny – no matter how often you run away from my love or create fanciful stories of unworthiness and dramatic mistakes. I am here to love you because it is my privilege and honor and greatest joy to do so.

Yep, that would be pretty comforting.

With each revolution I take around this sun, I grow more and more assured that those words are undeniably true.

I am here to love you.

My understanding of the benevolent energy of this magnificent being we label as God is of a presence who created me for It’s pleasure – the pleasure to bestow upon me gifts of unlimited possibility.

Like a scene from a movie where a wise teacher stares into the eyes of a student and says, “You can be whatever you decide to be,” so is Divine Presence staring through all our self-imposed doubt, shame and fear and seeing only our greatest potential. That kind of love is incapable of seeing anything else.

So, what I could imagine as the most comforting words in my world to be, are, in my level of understanding, actually real.

What do I do with that?

Two things; accept or deny it.

I once read the phrase, “The evidence is in and you are the verdict.”

The evidence that we are here to be loved and championed and to create through the use of our beliefs and practices would be prevalent enough in the courtroom of our heart if we stuck with testament of merit. Testament of merit would remind us that we are operating at the most optimum level of our current understanding. This understanding can only grow wiser and richer with repeated testimony.

Testament of merit tells the story of how you stumbled and failed yet got back up again; how you lost that job, lost that money, fell into the trappings of life pain expressed through addiction and despair yet are still showing up, still seeking, searching, trying - moving forward even if only immeasurably so. Testament of merit speaks of your journey having children and the way your dreams for them did not materialize, yet, you are still unwilling to break that bond of hope, even if it must stay in the confines of your own heart and mind. Too, testament of merit reminds you of all the things you classify as victories, – the accomplishments and milestones – perhaps offering them in a way in which you were never able to fully grasp there long term effect. This form of testimony is forever taking place in hopes that some sweet moment our ears will be tuned to hear it.

The evidence is in - I am here to love you.

The verdict – you will always be worthy of it.

A New Pledge

2010-06-30T22:37:00.006-05:00

I pledge allegiance to breaking the self-imposed barriers of my humanness. I recognize that my time on this planet is precious and limited. Every day is a canvas on which I can create. Everyday is an opportunity for me to move in the direction of the dreams and the expanded vision I feel inside. By setting aside petty grievances, past mistakes, righteous anger and my broken story, I pledge to move forward and embrace the experience of freedom right here and right now.

I pledge allegiance to the expression of my spiritual honesty. I fully own the fact that my presence here in this body and on this earth is a celebration of uniqueness and importance. Creation makes no mistakes. I am a creation of life, of a higher power, of perfection. My reason for being here matters in the grand divine plan. I must be honest with my contract of life and walk the path of my destiny with conviction, purpose and grace.

I pledge allegiance to the quiet soldier within. I understand that the championing spirit that is already cellularly alive inside of me, that was already in place at the time of my birth, waits patiently for my current belief about myself to join it in its knowing. I march forward towards a history of my own making, wisely, lovingly choosing the means by which I spread my beliefs and convictions. I never make others wrong for their chosen path for I recognize the innumerable roads that lead to the One.

I pledge allegiance to a partnership with divinity. I choose to see others and myself from eyes that already view the wholeness and perfection within. I do not entertain our past damage or encourage us to identify with it for I trust that a grander calling card has been printed for us to distribute in promoting our lives. I champion all of us to celebrate what is working rather than what isn’t.

I pledge allegiance to wise discernment – knowing when to speak and when to remain quiet, knowing when to comfort and when to leave alone, knowing when to intervene and when to avoid rescuing and interfering.

I pledge allegiance to people and projects of substance. I cannot travel this road alone. If there is anything we as a species need, it is each other. I actively choose to support those whose work I believe in with my time, talent and treasure. I joyously give to those whose intention and purpose is for self-empowerment and the awakening of humanity to its personal magnificence. I rally to make others aware of such light bearers and do what I can to support them in furthering their vision.

I pledge allegiance to the freedom from comparison. I once and for all lay down my wearisome, stale beliefs of unworthiness and not being good enough. I know that my past does not define who I am. I am forever evolving, growing and learning. I recognize that I am a marvel. I now choose opportunities to let my voice be heard; to let my light shatter the darkness of futility so that every personal dream is explored.

I pledge allegiance in knowing that things are not always as they seem. Just because something can’t be seen with the physical eye or rationalized by our current mode of understanding does not negate its existence. Understanding the difference between reality and illusion, I move into a fuller acceptance of the non-physical – the mystical, intuitive, soul aspect of living that expands my consciousness and deepens my days.

I pledge allegiance to actions that fulfill the greatest good for all. By becoming a gatekeeper of compassion, tolerance and love, I move into a fuller conviction of pure intent with regard to the words that I speak and the choices that I make. I pursue a win-win in all activities of life.

I pledge allegiance to those who have gone before me, the ancestral lineage whose courage, sacrifice and conviction still live in my bones. I honor the privileges given to me today because of the sweat from their pioneering efforts and the fortitude of their convictions. I give thanks for my responsibility in creating the same for future generations.

I pledge allegiance to a love that has no agenda. I no longer choose to give for what I might get, to manipulate in order to control, to abandon before I can be abandoned, to tolerate because there are seemingly no other options. I choose to love as a way of being. I am content in my choice whether outside circumstances respond or not. In being love, I create fulfillment above and beyond what the human condition can provide.

I pledge allegiance to the sacredness of laughter, knowing that the greatest healing force that exists reverberates from the vibration of this holy and irreplaceable gift. I allow humor, joy and eruptions of laughter to make their home in my heart. I let my physical body respond to the sacred stimulus and biological wonder that laughter creates and vow to keep this attribute alive and thriving all the days of my life.

Copyright © 2004 David Ault

I'm Here To Remind You

2010-06-26T01:00:00.002-05:00

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

CLICK ON FULL SCREEN ICON FOR BEST VIEWING

Good Here

2010-06-22T00:32:00.007-05:00

The following music video and related article show a glimpse into my work and ongoing mission in Cambodia. I ventured down this video production path with the intent to create an affordable, non-threatening avenue to enroll an avalanche of friends, businesses, churches, civic organizations, etc to become involved. Awareness is key and hopefully this exposes my work to people I may never get to meet. That's where you come in.

Yes, it would be great to have people go to YouTube and watch the video and share the link with their friends AND, it would be an even greater step in the direction of solution to have them take a few moments and download the song for a mere 99 cents from cdBaby.com or itunes. Every cent received will be funded towards the varying projects that are currently in place.

Visit http://www.davidault.org and http://www.khmer-child.com for continual updates and other ways to donate.

Oklahoma City Examiner

David Ault is the founder of The Conscious Company; an organization dedicated to reminding you that wherever you are on your path, your value and gifts to this world have never diminished. It's a motto that David truly lives.

For more than 25 years, David Ault has dedicated his talents to making the world a better place. Through speaking engagements, ministry, workshops and music, David has touched lives and emPowered people to journey toward their own personal magnificence.

David's own travels eventually led him to Cambodia. Imagine living in a world where the water you drink is filthy mud, where 1 out of every 6 babies born will never see their 5th birthday, and where those who survive face a bleak future. Cambodia is a region of the world suffering from such need that it cried out to David's heart, and he knew he had try and make a difference.

Through his organization, The Conscious Company, David is working to make a change in Cambodia. In the villages of Siam Reap, David is building fresh water wells, providing anti-malaria nets, has begun a chicken husbandry program, and has started a school -all against the odds of poverty and bureaucratic restrictions.

David's vision for the remainder of 2010 is to raise a minimum of $13,000 to expand and fund the programs he's set in place. He's written a song, "Good Here" to help meet this goal and raise awareness.

Join David on his journey to make a difference. All proceeds from David's song "Good Here" will fund The Conscious Company's programs in Cambodia. Follow the link below and download your song today.

Buy "Good Here" from cdbaby and help support David Ault!
http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/DavidAult

All The World's A Mirror

2010-05-21T12:05:00.002-05:00

We receive at the hands of the world according to the measure of our giving. For bad, bad; for good, good. For defective conduct, indifferent influence and imperfect success; for superior conduct, lasting power and consummate achievement. We act, and the world responds. When the foolish man fails, he blames others and sees no error in himself; but the wise man watches and corrects himself, and so is assured of success.

As A Man Thinketh - James Allen

The more self-aware we become, the more we realize that our world is simply one big mirror.

What we are dwelling on internally projects back to us “out there” in our day to day lives.

Just as we would stop and glance at our appearance in the mirror and make adjustments; brush our hair, snap on a necklace or tie a tie, we use that physical mirror as a directive to go for the exact thing that needs to be adjusted.

We don’t actually blame the mirror if the hair won’t part right or the knot in the tie isn’t quite working. We realize WE have to make the adjustments in order for the mirror to reflect back our satisfactory desire.

Try as we may to correct and adjust all the things going on in our lives that appear unworkable, we will only achieve assured success, as Allen suggests, by correcting ourselves – our thoughts about the situation. No use blaming the world for the world is only reflecting back to you what you're thinking.

A fable speaks of a wise man sitting outside the city gates when a traveler approaches and asks him what the people in the city are like. The wise man asked the traveler what the people were like in his last city and the traveler rants about how awful they were, unfriendly, mean spirited, etc. The wise man tells the traveler he will find the people in this city to be the same.

The traveler moves on.

As the wise man continues to sit, another traveler approaches and asks him what the people in the city are like. The wise man asks this traveler the same question as before: what were the people like in his last city. The traveler gets a peaceful, loving look in his eyes and talks about how wonderful they were, loving, kind and friendly. The wise man tells the traveler he will find this city to have the same loving, kind and friendly people.

The world is the mirror of our internal dialogue.

Real and lasting change must first begin within.

Grow, Grow

2010-05-16T06:46:00.002-05:00

There is a quote translated from the Talmud that reads

"Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, 'Grow, grow'."

I continually uphold a deep appreciation for the comfort and wisdom this portrays because it beautifully reminds each of us how supported we are.

Whether in physical form or from the ethereal, the energies at work are ready and willing to assist us in our expansion.

Always.

If we are allowing that expansion, casting aside our doubts and fears, then life affords us rich, fulfilling growth experiences.

Blades of grass could certainly be a perfect mentor when it comes to this.

Think about it.

You've never seen a blade of grass resist its innate sense of growth because it feels unworthy. It grows without questioning its abilities.

You'll never hear of one blade of grass being jealous and vindictive over another blade's growth. Each gets that they're in it together. There's more than enough to go around. And you'll never hear a blade of grass try to qualify or make excuses for its various growth patterns, colors, textures or lack of them. It doesn't fear being cut down. It simply trusts that its time and place is an opportunity --- so, it's going to thrive as long as it can and have faith that over time it will rise again.

As you read this, take a moment and see if you can hear the whispers of encouragement that are beckoning you to be all that you came here to be. They are unfailing in their presence and persistence to get our attention.

Listen.

They are bending over us and faithfully repeating, "Grow, grow."

Choice

2010-05-08T13:09:00.003-05:00

The fable reads:

In India, the Spirit of the Plague passed an old man sitting under a tree.

Old Man: Where are you going?
Spirit: To Benares, to kill one hundred people.

Later, the old man heard that in Benares ten thousand had died. Then the Spirit of the Plague passed again on its return journey.

Old Man: You lied. You said you would kill one hundred.
Spirit: I killed one hundred. FEAR killed the rest.

All of humankind has an incredible power at their disposal, it’s called choice.
We choose whether we feel worthy or unworthy. We choose whether we will have a good time or whether we will be miserable. We choose whether we will walk the road of victim or skip down the road of unending power. We choose whether we will approach new adventures with an expectancy of good or whether we approach the continuing saga called the unknown with fear and trepidation.

We choose.

Isn’t that incredible?

Life becomes liberated when we gain the awareness that no-thing outside of us can choose our responses or make us feel anything we don’t choose for ourselves.
Examine your choices. Entertain the simple yet profound truth that if you do not like or are in fear of something, you can avoid the plague of misery and unhappiness by making a different choice on how to feel.

In The Meantime

2010-04-18T20:37:00.006-05:00

...the time between one occurrence and another

...the period of time between now and when something is supposed to happen.

Recently, when examining this common phrase, this idiom - reasoning it out and meditating upon it - it occurred to me that “in the meantime” quite possibly is the most accurate, most telling barometer of one's spiritual growth and authentic intention if it were actually possible to measure such a thing.

Imagine whipping out some Harry Potter-ish yardstick and being able to measure another's actual belief in their "substance of things hoped for," in their "evidence in things not seen" - all based upon their relationship with "in the meantime." Perhaps we could compare our enlightenment with great sages of the past with miles or kilometers, feet or meters in regards to how much more we needed to deepen our self awareness.

"Only 10 more miles of spiritual practice to catch up to Gandi. Woo Hoo!"

Silly yes, but it feels to me that what we do in the meantime counts for everything that defines our life. By the word do I mean the way we think, speak and behave.

This span of time becomes a measure of our personal faith. In the seeming absence between praying/declaring/affirming something for ourselves and that something's actual appearance, we either question will this really happen or assuredly know that our prayer is already answered. In the meantime becomes a measure of our current state of consciousness. Our thoughts, words and deeds expressed in this meantime tell everything there is to know about who we currently are and the conviction of our beliefs.

Nineteenth century writer James Allen's powerful, simple work, As A Man Thinketh, beautifully examines one's relationship with conscious thought and its unfailing process in architecturally creating our world.

                           Mind is the Master power that molds and makes
                           And Man is Mind, and evermore he takes
                           The tool of Thought, and, shaping what he wills,
                           Brings forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills.
                           He thinks in secret, and it comes to pass.
                           Environment is but his looking glass.

We become spiritually rich, Allen writes, when we discover the adventure within; when we are conscious of the oneness of all life. He continues that wherever you may be, under whatsoever conditions you may live, know this - in the ocean of life the isles of blessedness are smiling and the sunny shore of your ideal awaits your coming.

What if, as suggested by Allen, we were able to embrace that enigmatic meantime with a sense of adventure?

To me, adventure pulses with the exhilaration of the unknown. It is the sense of excitement and possibility that appears only when realizing that outcomes may bring greater resolve than what we, in our limited humanness can fathom. Adventure pulls us outside of the boundaries of our normalcy and brings expansion to the doorstep of our human existence. When and where did we lose our sense of adventure? When did we trade in that kind of expansion for a false sense of manufactured security or deceptive assurance from failing? If we fueled that meantime with an adventuresome spirit, then the natural expectancy of good does exactly what this spiritual law dictates. It delivers to us good.

Allen writes, "Good thoughts and actions can never produce bad results; bad thoughts and actions can never produce good results....nothing can come from corn but corn, nothing from nettles but nettles. Men understand this law in the natural world and work with it, but few understand it in the mental and moral world though its operation there is just as simple."

Simple, simple stuff.

Life is simple. Every spiritual master that ever lived spoke simply. Jesus - "Ask and it is given, seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened (assurance). Buddha - "We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thought. With our thoughts, we make our world." (self mastery)

How can we return to that simplicity - that eagerness for what the unknown meantime can bring us?

Are you willing to become conscious of how you think in between paychecks, doctor's visits, job searching?

Are you willing to have faith in the rich fertile beauty that exists between the dissolution of a marriage or relationship and the beginning of another - between loss and appearance?

Becoming aware of our behavior in this meantime becomes the start of strengthening our faith, reacquainting ourselves with adventure and moving us closer to the ideals that are our birthright.

Our Life Reflects Our Loyalty

2010-03-30T15:02:00.006-05:00

Our life reflects our loyalty.

It was painful to watch, but watch I did. Activist and celebrity chef Jamie Oliver visits a family in Huntington, West Virginia – a town given the label as the unhealthiest in all of the United States. On his new television experiment, Food Revolution, part reality show, part educational programming, Oliver explains to the mother that the freezer full of processed frozen pizzas and continual trips for fast food are killing her, her truck driving husband and her already obese children. He quizzes and informs her with hard-hitting questions and health based facts about diabetes, heart disease and other related issues that await them. Does she deliberately want to usher in a life time of health problems and shorter life spans, all for the sake of current convenience?

Manipulative perhaps, but you can’t help but agree with his assessment and admire his concerns. The mother tears up as most mothers would, and agrees that something has to change. He teaches her new ways of grocery shopping, meal planning and provides her with recipes to get started. He even encourages the kids to get involved for he knows that teaching them how to cook is one of the most empowering tools for shaping a healthier future.

Cut to a week later. He revisits this same family. Upon opening the refrigerator, Oliver discovers that most of the produce bought last week remains untouched. He directly asks the mother if she cooked the recipes he had provided. And although she claimed she did, the full refrigerator tells a different story. It was only after asking the six year old daughter what her favorite meal of the week was, that the truth was revealed.

“Pizza!” she exclaimed, and the mother knew she had been busted.

Our life reflects our loyalties.

What we are loyal to day after day, thought after thought, decade after decade is what shows up in our daily existence.

Define loyal – well, it’s exactly what we think it is – devotion. If I am devoted to someone or some thing, then I give them or it my profound dedication.

When one begins a path of self awareness, we begin to take responsibility for all our profound dedications – be they powerful allies or crippling barriers to our good. We make the simple yet startling discovery that nothing outside of us can make our lives change. We carry the key and we begin by unlocking a door called willingness.

Our life reflects our loyalties according to a creative process, a spiritual law beautifully outlined by everyone from Jesus the Christ to Henry Ford with axioms that tell us, “It is done unto you as you believe,” and “Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right.”

It’s a nifty, all-encompassing thing this Spiritual Law, and each of us are blessed to have it operating 24/7 in our lives. Whether conscious of this law or not, it is always operating - the same way the laws of physics/gravity are always operating whether we understand or are conscious of them. We learn gravity through our continued attempts at standing up as babies. If you are going to pick up that plant and move it across the room to where it can get more light, you know that because the Earth’s atmosphere is pulling on that object, that you must apply the same force when lifting it to keep it from crashing to the ground.

I was recently reminded of human laws and our need to take them seriously after being pulled over in Florida for a “little thing” called speeding. Each law carries with it corresponding consequences.

If that mother is sincere in wanting to create healthy change for her children, then her loyalties must change. Regardless of how many generations before her did as she did, she possesses the ability to start anew. As outsiders observing her situation, it is fairly obvious how to begin doing that. Stop buying processed food. Create budget friendly menus. Enroll your kids in the process. Exercise. And yet, as great as all those things are, they are still only effects of greater controlling loyalties.

What about the loyalty to self loathing, unworthiness and plain ole fashioned not being good enough? What about core beliefs that have simmered in an energy of futility for so long, that one can’t even recall when they felt that life offered them anything to be hopeful for?

An astonishingly talented photographer will not put forth any effort to showcase their work and scrapes together a modest, safe living by working as a set decorator on various television shows. Not that there is anything wrong with being a set decorator, but accompanied with having that job is the long suffering complaint about artistic suppression and not being appreciated.

The solution seems easy – showcase your photography. Put it out there for the world to see. What’s the worst that could happen? But a seeming loyalty to unworthiness, fear of rejection or not being good enough rusts the wheels of creativity before they’ve ever had a chance to even roll down the track of possibility.

A start up business person has high aspirations for their home based endeavors but is short the funding necessary to really take it to the level of exposure it needs in order to generate the customer flow required for measured success. They begin short changing the few customers they do have by cutting corners and quality. They repeatedly talk about how hard things are with other start up business colleagues and stop all philanthropic giving and tithing to sources of their inspiration. What is their loyalty? How hard it is – how cut throat the market is – how limited their customer base is and how they need to find a way to outsmart the competition.
These loyal thoughts (i.e. can't afford, not good enough, can't catch a break, or the other end of the stick; the Universe supports me, everything I need shows up in the perfect time and in the perfect way, I am willing, there is more than enough, this too shall pass) are the molds that shape our day to day outcomes.

When we give only when we feel obligated to or when there is absolute certainty of surplus, we are loyal to the idea that God is limited, life is a game of chance and that our connection to that Source is hit and miss.

When we respond lovingly only when others love first then we are loyal to feelings and beliefs that love, in and of itself, is unsafe and must be proven before allowed in to our experience.

When we take an action towards our growth, well-being, creative endeavors only when we are absolutely forced to, we are loyal to beliefs that undermine the value of who we are and that what we have to offer is second-rate and disposable.

and

When we set clear-cut tangible goals and corresponding intentions, then what we are loyal to is the expectancy of demonstration(s) meeting us in ways expected and unexpected.

When we joyously give of our time, talent and treasure because we are loyal to the spiritual truth that God is our Source, then God IS our Source and we lack for nothing.

Our life today is a reflection of what we are loyal to.

If we are dissatisfied, unhappy or afraid of certain areas of this current life, the question then becomes, “How willing are we to alter our loyalties in the way we think, act and be in order to invoke real, effective change?

A Personal Ad From God

2010-02-13T08:22:00.002-06:00

Long walks on the beach are fine, but I am willing to go anywhere with you - to your job, to the supermarket, to baby-sit your grandkids. Am content to tag along as you do laundry, file your taxes, or keep your chemotherapy appointment.

Any ethnicity will do - I do not care; I feel we are all the same anyway. Your economic background does not in any way influence my desire to be with you.

Am well traveled - been everywhere- literally, and would be happy to share those adventures with you if you like.

I have an ability to see beyond surface conditions and am not influenced by the opinions of others; therefore, I am readily willing to accept your physical body just as it is and just as it is not-and even love and appreciate it. Hopefully, I can guide you to do the same.

Of course, I would love it if you acknowledged my handiwork from time to time. I am pretty great in the creative department, and I will neither judge you nor abandon you if you get too busy to notice.

I am keenly aware of your creativity also. Any hesitancy or fear you have concerning the expression of it - well, I can help you with that if you like.

I am not at all threatened by your growth or your success; in fact, I thrive on it. I am your biggest cheerleader.

I do not care about your past - when I say not care, it does not mean I fail to honor your journey and all the things you have accomplished; I am simply not interested in your mistakes, be they extensive or small.

What I am saying with all this is that I am looking for a longterm relationship and yet totally willing to go at the pace and level you are comfortable with.

I am available 24/7, and my support and belief in you knows no boundaries, no restrictions. Give the two of us a shot - I guarantee you will not regret it.

© David Ault

January 29 - Future of Khmer Children's Organization

2010-02-04T23:37:00.013-06:00

Celebrating the reality of our school in a neighboring village just outside Siem Reap, Cambodia.
Future of Khmer Children's Organization was granted permission to operate from the Ministry of the Interior of the People's Party of Cambodia after a nearly two year waiting process.

Our immediate need is to build a wooden structure to house the nearly 168 orphaned and disadvantaged Cambodian children that populate this poverty stricken area.

Our mission is to provide education, technical training, hygiene, clean water and nutrition thus ensuring them a strong foundation on which to build a thriving future.

We are also able to dig and tap into a fresh water source using the process you see below. Locating villages with the greatest need, buying materials and then creating a finished well that serves fresh water to multiple families cost roughly $300 US dollars. Fresh drinking water is a critical and necessary need for the area.

Angkor Wat & Cambodia January 27, 28, 2010

2010-02-02T00:00:00.008-06:00

Regardless of how much you have read about or glanced at pictures of the complex of temples known as Angkor in Cambodia - seeing it in person will still surpass all expectations. Even after 3 trips and three tours through the vast mazes of these architectural ancient wonders, I have yet to lose my sense of awe and wonder at their beauty. They are the largest sacred temple complex in the world.

Angkor Wat, the largest and most famous of them all, was believed to be built between 1113 and 1150. This borrowed ariel shot is necessary to really give one an understanding of what tugs away at your inner explorer heartstrings.

It's rich bas relief sculptured walls tell stories of its Hindu and Buddhist history and its mathematical architectural precision reveal a story of one of the greatest dynasties that ever existed.

Over 5 years ago, I was able to climb up and into the third and highest vantage point around the tall middle spheres on remarkably steep, narrow steps rising high into the sky. There, in corners, were Buddhist nuns willing to pray with you, offering blessings for long life and tying red yarn bracelets on your wrists for donations. Around a year later, when a couple of Korean tourist slipped and plunged to their death, the access was understandably closed. No nuns, no workers, no one allowed up on my second visit there. This year, some scaffolding with steps was in place over the narrow, stone original and they were letting 50 people at a time climb up the makeshift wooden ascension. I took the chance to go back for the top view experience, discovering it would only be available during these temporary repairs.

How ever many days one has devoted to temple touring, you must not miss the Bayon temple in Angkor Thom with 54 towers carved with the same serene face in all 4 directions of the cylindrical type towers. 54 X 4 = 216. Add 2 + 1 + 6 and you get 9. (In Hindu - there are nine forms of devotion, nine recognized planets, the human body is considered to have nine gates, etc) You'll see the number nine play a significant part in all of the temple structures throughout the entier 400 plus kilometers of Angkor. Here you'll also smell the incense burning and see nuns tucked away in various quadrants offering chants and blessings. Bayon is a photographer's dream, that's why you'll encounter so many of them vying for the perfect spot to rest their tripod. There is the perpetual search for the perfect angle to capture the full, immense carved faces.

These temples have also been used as a backdrop in movies, most notably, Lara Croft Tomb Raider, starring Angelina Jolie. It is now common knowledge that Jolie fell in love with Cambodia and its people during the filming of that project, so much so that she began the adoption process for her first child, a Cambodian baby boy. Her charity work and frequent visits here have made her quite beloved with the locals. Mention her name to them and everyone reacts as if she were royalty. And to them, she is. (click on the pic of me in front of the roots to get perspective)

Jolie's film did major exterior shooting in the temple known as Ta Prohm, famous for its massive stone walls swallowed up over the years by equally massive roots of banyon trees. To try and remove the tree roots would literally send it all crashing down. The interwoven connectedness of stone and root gives it an extraordinary appeal. As of January 2010, there is quite a bit of support reconstruction taking place. Even in the midst of that noise and the steady flow of tourist that enter, it is still possible to find a hidden corner somewhere and just sit in meditation. The energy of this temple is my favorite.

Banteay Srei, translation The Citadel of Women, is also known as the pink temple because of its pink hued sandstone . It is assumed that because of the intricacy of the carved art here, that perhaps only the delicate hand of a woman could have produced such work. It is one of the finest examples of Khmer Art that exists.

Banteay Srei is one of the oldest of the temple complexes (967 AD), much smaller, but rich in detail and surprising durability. In the main entrance are carved tablets in sanskrit still very decipherable. Alas, I didn't take sanskrit as an elective and our guide said he knew of know one who was able to translate it into anything understandable. Theory is, it pays homage to the Hindu god Shiva.

To Cambodia ~ January 26, 2010

2010-01-28T01:26:00.006-06:00

Our final morning in Hanoi.

Before heading towards the airport for an afternoon flight, we stop to tour the Hanoi Museum of Ethnology which exhibits the traditional cultures of Vietnam's 54 ethnic groups. With both indoor and outdoor exhibitions, the outdoor section boasts an impressive display of different tribal houses that you can climb up, over and into.

Although one of the best I've seen, third world countries do not always view these kinds of services (aka musuems) with a tremendous amount of importance. The facility itself is in need of major repair and one wonders if the government will ever subsidize such an endeavor.

Lunch consists of eating at a traditional Pho Noodle Shop where we all slirp down our soup broth swimming with noodles and meat.

Trang escorts us to the ticket agency and handles all our fares and luggage check in. We say our goodbyes with hugs and thank you's and exchanges of business cards.

Several hours later we land in Siem Reap.

Having never witnessed sun during our days in Vietnam, Cambodia quickly becomes the antithesis. The sun pours through the window of the plane and by the time we exit and walk across the outdoor tarmac, the humid balmy air delivers steady beads of sweat.

I'm a bit ancy as I go through the visa process and the customs formality. I know my friend Ohm is waiting passed all this security and I can't wait to see him. It's been almost two years since my last visit here and we have stayed in touch through e-mails. Ohm took me seriously when I suggested that we somehow start a school that is autonomous from any government agency. No small feat, he took it upon himself to scout out land parcels for rent. Together we could then secure the funding necessary to make this 'seed dream' a reality. In the meantime we addressed immediate issues such as the urgent need for fresh water wells and how to best go about finding locations, materials and the local support to do the labor.

All this back and forth communication and big ideas swirl in my head when I finally reach the doors.

There he is, with a smile as big and bright as Buddha himself, giggling and running towards me. He is one of my most esteemed teachers - someone who has lived through so much personal atrocity and hardship and yet never loses his since of hope. I love this soul, this man and all that he represents.

However, his smile does fade while telling me that his current tour company boss is removing him from one and a half days worth of guiding us around. Seems he is needed to host some important British official.
Ohm is Cambodia's premier guide and if you've ever been in his presence and watched him in action, you'd understand why. His love of Cambodia, his knowledge of history and his ability to make everyone feel seen and heard is the stuff of masters.

He becomes deeply apologetic over the news. I become disappointed as I watch my expectations dissolve beyond my control. After back and forth banter in trying to work out solution and cell phone calls to the company that yield no compromise, Ohm makes a startling decision.

"I'll just quit, he earnestly offers. If they are not willing to work this out and get another then I'd rather not work for them. I can always freelance."

Moved by this sudden display of immense loyalty, I realize that by having to have another guide take us through temples is not worth him quitting his job over. I'm the only one in the group who will feel the loss of him as the day guide because I'll have the past experience to compare it to - and I will get over it.

"No, you keep the job. We'll work out our personal work schedule."

We do our best to plan as we travel in the mini-van towards the hotel. After two years of long distance e-mailing, it just feels too good to be back together and I don't want to waste another minute haggling with outside circumstances about time and schedules. We make plans to work on our project in the evenings and he will still be traveling with us towards the end to the makeshift school hut that he's already managed to put in progress.

"In spite of the change made by the tour company," he says, Ï have a wonderful surprise for you!"

We arrive at the Angkor Lotus Hotel - a gorgeous, simply furnished 4 star facility that I've stayed at before. After a quick shower and change into shorts, (plus spraying myself with a homeopathic bug repellent blend), I am ready for Siem Reap once again. The others are escorted to dinner and Ohm and I motorbike through a mixture of asphalt streets to a local restaurant bought by tourist dollars and the dirt thouroughfaires that are left for most of the local neighborhoods. I escape all western influence and dine on monk fish and rice and a bottle of cold Tiger Beer.

There under the breeze of a noisy, rusted electric fan attached to a wooden beam above our heads, he pulls out the documents and shows me the official permission granted to us by the Ministry of the Interior from the Cambodian People's Party. It is a document filled with the energy, prayers and human effort that I cannot even begin to fathom. He'd been saving this surprise for almost two months so he could tell me in person. To what lengths Ohm went through I may never know, but he is so proud to show this to me, that his eyes begin to tear and his voice begins to choke. His emotion feeds into mine, and I just hold the letter, written in the native language of Khmer, and run my fingers over the official governement seal. He also gives me a copy he translated into English.

We eat, we toast, we strategize. I pull out the nearly two thousand in US dollars, I've raised just for water wells alone and place it in his hands. To him, this is more than he's probably ever held at once. To me, I know I could have done better.
We talk for hours till I can no longer fight off the yawns that force themselves upon me from the heat and the beer.
We motorbike back and say our goodbyes for the night. Where he goes, what his living conditions are like, I have yet to see. I, on the other hand, walk into beauty, ride the elevator and enter into my air conditioned room.

You can't help but search deep within yourself and ask the most basic of questions. "Why do I have so much when millions upon millions have so little?"

It is a sobering, necessary question. One that will bring even the best of us to our whining knees if we ever have the gift of putting ourselves in such a contrast.

If that ever be the case, then there, in that humbled, kneeling position, may we vow to take action before rising up and going about our priviledged way.

Halong Bay, Vietnam, January 25, 2010

2010-01-26T23:51:00.002-06:00

Boarded the wooden double decker boat that will take us all around Halong Bay this morning. The 6 of us have one all to ourselves but we'll have to share the bay - as in really share with what looks to be a hunderd more boats. The other charters seem to be mostly Asian tourists. We may very well be the only token Americans.

The morning fog and drizzling rain would seem ill-timed to be taking a scenic cruise through the geological wonders but after the first hour, the fog lifted, the rain ceased and we were weaving in and out of thousands of limestone mountains.

We eventually docked and climbed a winding set of slippery stairs into the most phenomenal work of nature - Hang Đầu Gỗ Cave. Only discovered in 1994, the find is credited to a fisherman who supposedly wrecked his boat against the rocks during a difficult storm. Seeking shelter, he scaled the side of the steep rock where he found an unassuming opening. Climbing through it, he beheld one of nature's perfect masterpiece's.

Now the cave is a major tourist attraction and if you can stand the chatter and echoing of countless languages all at once and can maneuver around, you might just be able to find a stalagmite to rest on and take it all in.

Back on the boat, true to form, the two teenage girls, Essie and Sara, seem to raise the level of enthusiasm among the young Vietnamese men. The girl's spy a karaoke machine on board and before too long, the crew men have turned it on and set everything up. Essie and Sara provide us with a stellar version of Tainted Love.

And now returning the favor, the young men decide to give us a show, serenading us with a series of Vietnamese pop tunes which we lamely but earnestly try to join along with..

Perhaps the most surreal moment to date was our show stopping version of Abba's Dancing Queen - complete with choreography. Really, how many of you can claim to have sung Dancing Queen while dancing on a boat in a bay in Vietnam?

We laughed and waved at the other boats that passed us by. Afterwards, these same karaoke singing crew members provided us a with a lunch of crab and vegetables. With about three hours of sail time and cave exploration under our belts, we finally docked and began the three hour journey back to Hanoi.

I presume it was the singing that wiped everybody out, because we were all doing a bit of head-bobbing through the now familiar chaos of traffic.

Dinner that night had a bit of a French influence with delicious fish and incredible flavored sauces mixed in to the other dishes - then, we were shuffled off to one of those tourist shows - this one with water puppets and traditional Vietnamese music. Not your most riveting, but it was fun to be sitting by a row of Buddhist monks who evidently found the humor in the traditional story. You could watch their saffron robed shoulders bounce up and down as dragons, snakes and fish puppets told what must have been an ancient morality play.

Walking through the amazing night life towards the hotel - it was evident by our staggering that we were all ready for sleep.

Hanoi, January 24, 2010

2010-01-25T19:49:00.003-06:00

It's 6 AM and I have been awake for hours.

Walking the streets of Hanoi feels much like what I'd imagine white water rafting down a concrete river would be. You are tossed and turned in all directions. Motorbikes carrying every age driver imagineable weave and jerk and cross like surging rapids and you are left to navigate all this to simply cross the street. It's maddening and exhilarating all in one and the storefronts and vendors and honking and smells blend together to let you know you're not in Kansas anymore.

Last night the fevered pitch was still going long after the makeshift restaurants with their boiling hot pots had served their last bowl of noodles to the locals gathered in circles on miniature plastic stools. Next to a trashed out souvenir store is an exquisite art gallery. Next to that a cheap t-shirt shop with mannequins that look like characters from Steven King's Children of the Corn. Two storefronts down is an eclectic urban coffeehouse where tourists and local's voices bounce off the concrete floors and walls. Look outside the window and women balance bamboo poles across their shoulder blades with scales tied to each end carrying everything from cheap plastic children's toys to unplucked chickens. It's a mash up of old and new, modern and ancient customs.

After sitting and meditating in the quiet of my room, I head down to breakfast before meeting up with the rest as we climb into the mini-van with Trang and our driver.

First stop is the granite mausoleum housing the embalmed body of Hồ Chí Minh, where the Vietnamese solicited this preservation technique from the Russian's who've done the same with Lenin for his celebrated tomb in Moscow. Hồ Chí Minh.is their papa - affectionately called Uncle Ho by all - their saviour, their first appointed President - having liberated them from the French in the 40's and whose attempts to do the same with the United States were curtailed by his death in 1969. You are stripped of all camera's, phones and bags and ordered to march two by two into the maze of corridors. You may not stop the flow nor should you talk. When you enter into the curved room where the body is housed, guards in every corner surround the crpyt in solemn attention. This is one attraction where you are immersed with locals who travel from all over the country to pay their respects. Opened only a few hours on select days, we exit the structure and walk the palace grounds.

Across Hanoi, we explore the original grounds of the first school in Vietnam to teach and study the philosophies of Confucius. Whether correctly attributed to him or not, the addage, "Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart," feels appropriate today. Most of the buildings have been rebuilt to match the scale and detail of what is believed to be the original. Little remains here from historical life dating back over a thousand years. Whether destroyed by war or time, Vietnam does not set a priority in preserving architecture.

We eat lunch at a friend of Trang's, whose restaurant lines a busy Hanoi intersection. She thinks that our youngest traveler, Sara, would be an ideal match for her son named Casper who is studying abroad in Finland. We tease Sara mercilessly for the rest of the day. OK, I tease her.

Boarding the mini-van for the three hours to Halang Bay, several continue to marvel how all the traffic seems to give organized chaos a whole new meaning. No one really pays attention to lanes, including our driver as we pass and honk and move out of the city and into the continuous scenic movie of industry, farming, and Vietnamese life. Things turn sober when we come upon an actual fatality along the side of the road. A man and his motorbike lay lifeless on the side as locals gather around him. Without anything covering his body, we creep along through the slowed traffic, witness to his mortality. It becomes quiet after that until we reach our destination of HaLong City ~ known for the majestic HaLong Bay, a geological wonder vying to be placed on the registry for one of the Natural Wonders of the World.

Checking in to The Royal, a whitewashed hotel complex with conclaves of rooms across meticulous gardens, I stand on my balcony overlooking the bay. Enormous jagged rocks, many in the shape of monstrous kitchen mitts, rise out of the water. Tomorrow we take a large tourist boat and go out there to get a bird's eye view.

I sit on my balcony and watch night take over. I am overcome by the enormous feelings of how the timing of my life escaped the common practice of being drafted for war. Here I sit in solitude staring out at the bay - the polar opposite of countless others forced to be here under circumstances that paint humanity at it's worst.

Hanoi, Vietnam - January 23, 2010

2010-01-23T19:05:00.002-06:00

Peering out the airplane window, the raindrops cling to the glass, giving the grey, wet Taipai morning a 3 dimensional feel.
Taiwan - next to last stop on a cross global flight that started in Mobile, AL to Dallas then Los Angeles - 14 hours and a middle seat later. Add another 2 hours and we will land in our final destination of Hanoi, Vietnam.

The window looks identical to the wet landscape that greeted us in Los Angeles. Even though it was night, you could see the after affects of atypical flooding there. Boarding the crowded China Airlines flight, I wondered what lost in translation event occurred that had me in a middle seat with no other options for change. It was to be a long succession of internal dialogues and physical adjustments to find an angle that would allow me to unbend my knees and feel the simple, sweet satisfaction of a leg stretch.

I've never had much success with sleeping on planes and with 20 minutes of dozing here and 20 minutes there, I can feel the familiar buzz of adrenaline that my body manufactures when circumstances interfere with normal sleep.

I have 5 joining me on this trip - 2 sisters 18 and 16. Essie and Sara whose dad willingly sent them on this adventure. Seems part of the family business revolves around developing water treatment solutions and the 18 year year old, already a world traveling activist, is searching for areas to devote her post high school, indominable spirited energies towards. Next are three older women in their late 60's and early 70's, Claudette and Pat from No. Cal and Frances from my congregation in Alabama. Different temperaments - same sense of adventure.

By all accounts, this sacred site journey would look to be my most flawed. Drastically reduced in number (most likely due to the fact that I simply don't tour and promote at the same level I use to), I have far less participants than needed to fund my expenses or offer me additional compensation. I was hoping the nice piece written about global service in the Science of Mind magazine and my desires to build continuing fresh water wells in Cambodia would have generated more interests. I even kept my fingers crossed that the social network phenomenon, Facebook, would have also garnered a few participants but it still seems that nothing quite takes the place of enrolling people into joining you like a personal appearance.

All that aside, I couldn't bring myself to cancel.

What is that overriding emotion that refuses to let me do that ~ faith, stupidity, reckless and stubborn adventure, or some irrefutable conviction to do something of significance for the people of Cambodia? Perhaps all.

I know more than 5 years and two tours ago, when discussing ways to make a difference while in Siem Reap with 18 people in tow, my heart was broken so open that I've never wanted to put it back together again in the same way. It was then, that we bought out three local markets worth of food (roughly $86 in US dollars) and caravaned to the dried up banks of the Tonle Sap River. It was there we distributed bags of fresh tamarind, milk, noodles, bananas and more to the poorest of the poor children - many abandoned, their bellies swollen and distented, they stretched out their arms for whatever we offered. We started fairly organized and then watched as the horizon brought more and more hungry faces. By the end our clothes resembled a canvas of muddied handprints from the reaching and grabbing that followed.

I clamored onto a pontoon boat floating in the dirty water and finally let my contained composure bust into a million little pieces. I sobbed uncontrollable, breath robbing sobs, the likes of which I'd never experienced. That was all it took to abandon reason.

Since then, returning, has always offered different opportunities to serve. From that has morphed the very doable and affordable tasks of funding fresh water wells - something sustaining to leave in the wake of our visits.

~
After having lost count of the actual number of hours plus the loss of a day by crossing the International Date Line, we finally land in Hanoi, Vietnam.

It is still drizzling with residual rain from an unseasonable monsoon days before and the temperature is much cooler than any of us anticipated.

We are met by our guide, Trang, a 27 year old Vietnamese woman whose poise and and grace seem to give everyone a fresh sense of enthusiasm. Everyone's luggage arrives and we settle into our mini van. It's now nearly 11 AM and I strategize with Trang about what to actually do today based upon everyone's physical energy. We decide to head into Hanoi (about an hour away) and play it by ear. It's Saturday and we travel from calm countryside into the cacophony of noise, people, motorbikes and diesel burning vehicles that seem to be the soundtrack of all third world countries. Cuong, our driver, maneuvers us into a maze of congested streets on Hanoi's south entrance to a restaurant where we're served fresh steamed bok choy, rice, marinated chicken and spring rolls wrapped in amazingly delicious rice paper, easily erasing all memory of airplane meals.

15 minutes later we are at Maison D'Hanoi, a narrow 8 story hotel, indicative of the local architecture - skinny and high like an upright domino, in the Hoan Kiem district. It is a perfect, beautiful, zen-like structure with beautiful, clean, quiet rooms. After getting everyone their room assignments, I convince Trang that we'd be better served by rest, showers and free time on our first day. Structured touring can wait till tomorrow. Besides, we are in the heart of the city and the streets are alive and beckoning to be explored.

Year End Resolutions

2009-12-19T12:52:00.008-06:00

Please play this video as you read along.

Did I express love this year - real love? The kind of love that doesn't announce itself in flashy circumstance or structured conditions - but an authentic, quiet, internal love? The kind of love that bubbles to the surface when I gaze at another with understanding, a love that places me in their shoes, granting freedom from judgment and deepening my compassion? A philanthropic love that expresses because it simply feels compelled to, because it knows there is more than enough and everyone can benefit. If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my authentic loving.

Did I forgive this year - really forgive? The kind of forgiveness that cracks open my heart, peeling away one more layer of righteous indignation, thus allowing my soul to breathe? The kind of forgiveness that loosens my clinched fists held high at a situation so that I don't enter into the next one with guarded mistrust? The kind of forgiveness that comprehends there is a difference between understanding a behavioral choice and condoning it? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my forgiving.

Did I stop this year - really stop? The kind of stopping that can't help but make me vulnerable by becoming more familiar with who I am without distraction, smoke screens, excuses or self-imposed numbing? The kind of stopping that turns me, naked, towards my feelings, giving them permission to express? No right or wrong - a stopping that simply lets me hear what I need to hear so that I can live more effectively? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in allowing myself to stop.

Did I seek adventure this year - real adventure? The kind of adventure that requires me to not only take a leap of faith off my cliff of familiarity but actually sends me back to get a running start? The kind of adventure that shakes the dust off my capable but underused wings and gives them an opportunity to catch the gorgeous wind of change? The kind of adventure that knows there is no outside safety net in this physical world, only an internal one? The kind of adventure that shouts, "I choose to live fully!" If not, then I resolve to be and do better in seeking adventure.

Did I seek wellness this year - real wellness? The kind of wellness that requires me to be fully conscious of what I put in my body - the kind of wellness that requires me to practice what I preach when it comes to self-love while understanding that the power to dissolve poor habits starts by simply choosing to change? Wellness that says, "This is the only body you've got. Treat me with respect, praise me daily and honor me as the holy temple that I am?" If not, then I resolve to be and do better in allowing wellness in my life.

Did I play this year - really play? The kind of play that gives value to the heavenly activity of fun - knowing that fun is sacred, that play is the equivalent of work and that during play - renewal and relaxation usher in the newest ideas and the clearest choices for better manifestations? Did I view play as a necessary life function and not a debatable luxury? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my relationship to playing.

Did I set a goal and see it to completion this year - really complete it? The kind of completion that lets the vibration of satisfaction and confidence in my abilities heal any opposing ideas of not being good enough? Did I honor my life and its sacred purpose by utilizing my time with forward thinking and letting my mistakes be motivators not antagonists? Did I dissolve my insecurities and procrastination by understanding that my untapped genius has but one mode of expression and that is through idea, thought, word and action? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in setting and completing my goals.

Did I open myself up to learn this year - really learn? The kind of learning that entices me to enroll in being a student of life with thirst and enthusiasm? Did I set an intention for uncovering more of my potential, letting divine intellect eat from my plate and stepping deeper into the waters of wisdom? Did I open a book, take a class, study a language, learn an instrument, write a poem, visit another culture? Did I learn to surprise and thrill myself with the infinite capacity I have to master more than I thought I could? If not, then I resolve to be and do better on my personal path of learning.

Did I clean up my relationships this year - really clean them up? The kind of cleaning that requires me to break open the lock, pull back the curtain, throw open the window and start removing the dust of harsh words, grudges, false accusations and misguided choices that have layered my heart? Did I make amends for the fearful ways that disheartened another, for neglecting to honor their point of view? With careful examination, did I communicate my truth, understanding that sometimes all we may be able to do is agree to disagree and to do so without judgement or malice? If not, then I resolve to be and do better on cleaning up my relationships.

Did I share my good this year - really share? The kind of sharing that comes from the pure joy of seeing another succeed, not from what I think they can or will do for me in return? Did I tithe back to where I was spiritually fed, transformed and inspired? Did I practice random acts of kindness and give of my time, talent, and treasure realizing that my good is a part of a never-ending wellspring that cannot run dry -whose source is and always will be the infinite wellspring of the Divine? Did I commit to walking the altruistic path, remembering that every step brings healing and enlightenment to the world? If not, then I resolve to be and do better in my sharing.

Did I pray this year - really pray? The kind of prayer that is spoken not to God but AS God - prayers that affirm rather than beseech, are pregnant with knowing rather than bloated with doubt? Did I make my every day activities a prayer - realizing that every thought I think carries with it the responsibility of an effect on the world? Did I remember how truly powerful my own prayer actually is and that by simply devoting myself to the practice of it, I become the change? Did I remember that my prayer takes what I seek and introduces it to me, the seeker? If not, then I resolve to be and do better with praying.

Did I do all these things because deep down inside I fully understand how precious I am and that each of these sacred practices reminds me how I'm held in the light as a perfect idea? Did I remember that I have been perfectly conceived and am always held in the perfect mind of God as perfect being? Did I know that there is nothing that I can ever say, nothing I can ever do that will separate me from the love of God? If for any reason, I forgot my divinity this year, then I resolve to be and do better in my knowing of it, to fully understand and embody the truth that it is done unto me as I believe. And I believe in the power of Good, for me, for you, for all.

©2004 David Ault

Spanish Version

There Are Times

2009-12-15T22:10:00.003-06:00

There are times when traveling on the same path no longer provides us with the scenic stimulation that is crucial for our evolvement. Maybe something is quietly begging us to break away from the way we’ve always done it. We’ve outgrown the job, the career, the relationship. Outgrown doesn’t necessarily mean become better than, it simply means we’ve grown out of the physical, emotional and spiritual fit it once was. An old path for you might be perfect for someone else just as someone else’s old path might be refreshingly rewarding for you. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when hugging our troubles no longer brings us comfort. The “poor thing” assurances from others no longer soothe but irritate. We become worn out by our self-subscribed smallness and can’t find a reason to toot the horn of mediocrity anymore. Inside we hear a grander instrument calling for us to pick it up and play in a larger orchestra. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when tying life’s shoelaces feels more than we can endure. Given that life is here to support and champion our spirit – not diminish or drain it, then maybe what we’re being impressed to do is relinquish our grip on the laces and step into a pair of slip-ons instead. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when windows of opportunity appear and for whatever fear based reason, we decline to crawl through them. The thing to remember is that there are other windows. They may appear in a different emotional architecture but we somehow remember that windows are everywhere. To say you missed the only opportunity is like saying you missed your only chance to breathe. Another window is out there, waiting, whispering for you to crawl through its opening. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when planning or strategizing seem for naught – when the current pool of ideas fail and all efforting only creates bigger degrees of disappointment. Dissolving effort means strengthening our allowing and allowing means surrendering to how we think it needs to happen. That kind of surrender requires vacationing from struggle - digging our hands in dirt, picking up a fishing pole, meditating, flying a kite, playing with a child. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when we let our age define what we can and cannot do. We forget that it is simply a number and that our mindset can be ageless. The nonsense of what society claims is age appropriate can be quieted by our own inner guidance – the one that calls us to continue our creative quest no matter how old we are – no matter how much or how little we have created in the past. Something inside begs us to remember our ability to contribute. Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when human drama will feel impenetrable. We will find ourselves seduced by it. Like an insatiable hunger, it can control all aspects of our lives as we feed it with our thoughts. The solutions of life wait in expectancy for equal time and attention. When will the experience of solution be as riveting and rewarding as the drama? When will we wake up with the same urgency to feed the solutions? Perhaps now is one of those times.

There are times when our hearts feel broken and irreparable. We walk the tightrope of vulnerability only to discover no external net is there to catch us when we fall. We vow never to attempt such foolhardy acts again, forgetting we were born to walk the high wire of unconditional love. To cease would be like chaining a running stallion. We’re aware of the possibility to retrain ourselves to shed conditions and expectations and to love purely without agenda. Our hearts can and do mend - our bodies grow lighter as we contemplate another try. Perhaps now is one of those times.

Yes, there are times when being tired, listless, troubled, fearful, angry, heartbroken will come - for this earth journey certainly offers an emotional bounty. Likewise, there are equal doses of vibrancy, serenity, divine knowing, elation, joy and love – all eagerly awaiting our acceptance. Yes, even in the midst of human tragedy, there is grace. Even in the midst of emotional darkness there is light. And even in the midst of abandonment there is great love. At some point it will click, the remembering will occur and we will return to the simple truth that every event provides us with choice. Every choice creates a reaction. And the reactions set a pattern of conditioning for the quality of our immediate world. There will come a time when we will know this with every fiber of our being and we will choose joy. We will choose to honor our sacred self. We will choose to thrive and we will choose to love all unconditionally. Perhaps now is one of those times.

© 2006 David Ault

And We Are All Merely Players

2009-12-07T21:50:00.011-06:00

It's been 5 years this Christmas season since my brother Doug took his own life. Having once been a predominant MLB record holder, his death made headlines within the sports world and lasting scars for those he left behind. Compelled to process our relationship through writing, the following piece was published several months after his death.

Doug Ault 1950 - 2004

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts . . . Shakespeare

Life will always contain drama. Just as darkness shares the experience with light, so we share our years of conscious evolution with circumstances that contain challenges. This life has taught me that I have the opportunity to let my free will direct dramas that hopefully contain deep, life-altering meaning rather than vacuous soap operas. This particular drama involves two brothers - players as different in temperament and personality as in age.

My brother Doug was an anomalous creature. Ten years older than me, he seemed to have entered the world swinging. The constructive swinging came in the form of a baseball bat as he channeled that energy all the way to the major leagues. The destructive swinging came in the form of fists and fits of rage that were as unpredictable as the hurricanes that sometimes visited our little corner of the world in Texas.
As a child, I learned to stay out of his way. Having once unknowingly provoked him, I found myself hurling through the air towards a wall, where on impact, I nearly bit my tongue in two.

Doug left home right after his high school graduation, pursuing dreams of playing baseball through various college scholarships, eventually landing a spot in the majors. He was as charismatic as he was volatile, and at 6’ 4” tall, he was a handsome, giant presence that seemed to endear himself to sports fans as a destined iconic hero. He had managed to rise above the poverty of our upbringing and fashion himself into a seemingly successful sports figure. He broke records during his years with the Toronto Blue Jays, graced the pages of Sports Illustrated and endorsed Brut Cologne for the folks in Canada.

My life path, my world, was vastly different and there was little to no interaction with him through the rest of my adolescence and early adulthood. It was rare that my family ever found themselves fully together. Usually, Doug was the one who never made it back. If he wasn’t playing ball in the states, then he sought out ball playing opportunities in other continents. He had married, had a child, divorced, had other relationships, had another child, remarried again.

In the ensuing years, the skills at which he had played baseball waned and he fought for and occasionally won various coaching positions with Triple A franchise teams. He also fought years of substance addictions exacerbated by on-the-job injuries.

It was never really discussed openly, but at some point, my immediate family knew that the absences were no longer about his work, but more about his lack of work and the dark descent one travels when you have robbed Peter so many times that Paul doesn’t even expect payment anymore. His career had dried up and so had the high 6 figure income he had relied on to sustain his habits.
In our particular drama, I thought Doug had systematically begged and borrowed from just about everyone and that I would somehow be exempt. I never expected that our characters would share dialogue on life’s same page.

I was wrong.

My mother’s voice over my cell phone was surprisingly frantic.

“Your brother is there - in LA. You have to go help him!” she pleaded.

“Where?” I questioned.

“Somewhere on Sunset Blvd,” she answered. “He called and told me he had taken a bus there. He’s sleeping on the streets. Please! You’ve got to go help him!”
It was rare that my mother took the initiative to call and I had not heard my mom this rattled in awhile. All those adolescent jealousies of how she loved Doug the most – he was the first born male child – he was the sports hero – the one she had been able to brag about to everyone – came flooding back at me.

“Mom, Sunset goes on for miles and miles. I gotta have more info than that.”

She relayed some landmark that he had mentioned and at least it narrowed my field of searching to a 3 block radius in the heart of Hollywood.

I got in the car and headed that way.

“What am I suppose to do with him once I find him?” I thought.
I was scheduled to be a keynote speaker the next evening at a conference in Austin, TX and my plane was to leave at 6:30 in the morning. I could not miss this conference. My entire predicted monthly income was derived from this event.

My stomach churned and tightened at the thought of missing the work and at what unexpected developments awaited me at the sight of a brother I hadn’t seen or talked to in years.
I found the landmark my mother mentioned and drove as slowly as traffic would permit, peering down the side streets for any signs of this man that felt like a complete stranger. I circled back, parked the car and got out. I glanced between buildings and finally, down an alleyway, I saw him. Bundled up in a coat, and sitting with his back against a brick wall, was my brother.

“Doug, it’s David,” I called out.

Upon seeing me, he started to stand. The once tall, larger-than-life figure seemed hunched over, his skin was leathery and burnt, his right hand clutching an over-stuffed suitcase.

He started to cry.

His voice drenched with remorse, let go a stream of apologies that flooded from his lips.

“It’s OK,” I said, “We’ll figure something out.”

Truth be told, I hadn’t a clue as to where to begin.
Every phone call to local substance abuse facilities turned up futile. No one had a free bed. Every recommendation from one only led to the same story from another - no room. I was resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere until I found a place for him to detox.
“Maybe I could just leave him at my place – go do the conference and come right back?”

“Are you nuts!?, the internal voices warned. He’s admitted taking combinations of 25 to 30 muscle relaxants/amphetamines a day in combination with whatever else he could get his hands on. Do you realize what he’ll do to your place when he needs more?”

My anger and resentment began to rise. Here I was placed with an opportunity to practice love and compassion, towards a blood brother no less, and I resented being put in this position. I hated what he had done to himself. I hated the way he had cheated my mom out of money, hurt his children. Then, as if resurrecting some ancient, transferable, child-like fear, I wondered what he might do to me if his need for medicated relief became too strong.

Finally a local facility recommended the Salvation Army in the skid-row section of downtown Los Angeles. The drill was to line up at 6:30 AM and go through an intake. If there was a bed, you were allowed to stay there for 21 days. That would buy me some time till another bed opened. I made the call and cancelled my conference appearance.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Just knowing he was out there in the living room, on the couch, kept me on pins and needles.

The next morning, freshly showered and with enough belongings and toiletries to get him situated, we drove towards downtown.

“When and why do any of us make such decisive turns in our human dramas that we could experience the pinnacle of record-breaking success to sleeping in alley-ways off Sunset Blvd? I wondered." No answer came.

It was brisk that morning and my hands were shoved in my pockets for warmth. I kept telling him not to worry - that I would figure something out while he got clean, still avoiding saying too much lest I spark some flammable emotional outburst or provoke him to take off and run.

Advancing to the front of the line, he was accepted and I felt a sense of relief, albeit temporary.
Within days, his remorseful demeanor soon gave way to demanding phone calls, wanting money and cigarettes. His detox experience brought out every conceivable story to try and enroll me in getting him out or providing him with a temporary loan. He told me how much physical pain he was in. He told me there were more drugs on the inside of this place and that he would be better off staying with me.
One request was viable. He gave me the name of a man associated with the Major League Baseball Association and demanded I tell him where he was. I questioned what good that would do since he hadn’t played in years. He kept insisting.

I called and tracked down the man Doug mentioned who seemed well aware of my brother’s ongoing situation. He asked that I give him 24 hours to figure out a solution. The next day he called back, relaying he had a 1 way ticket waiting for my brother at the airport. They would deliver him to a state-of-the-art rehab facility in Florida. There, he could stay for up to 3 months, receive proper mediacal care and in-depth psychological treatment. He would then be given opportunities for work placement programs as well as a place to live. They would continue to offer professional counseling and strive to help him turn his life around.

“Sheesh,” I thought, "He must have a monopoly on silver platters." It seems once you’ve been a professional athlete, no matter what befalls you, the national organization will find ways to support you in getting back on your feet. My job was to simply get him on the plane.

After repacking his suitcase, I picked him up from the Salvation Army and began the drive to LAX.
We rode in silence. He stared out the side window, nervously tapping his leg. Finally, I couldn’t help but say to him, “Doug, do you realize what an amazing gift you have been given?”

He sullenly shook his head.

That was in 1999, before 9/11 and I was able to escort him to the gate and watch him as he boarded for Florida. He never turned around to wave. He simply merged with the rest of the passengers and disappeared down the jetway. With a sigh of both relief and remorse, I headed back for my car.

“Well I guess that little drama is over with, AND I still haven’t a clue what it was really about.”

As I drove home, I felt this persistent voice keep questioning me.

“David, what is your greatest fear?”

“What?”

“What is your greatest fear?”
As I really pondered the question, I began to focus back on the knot in my stomach that had been overlooked by all the adrenaline of the situation - the income I was losing.

“You wanna know what the biggest, darkest fear is?” I shouted to the air. “I’ll tell you. It’s winding up on the streets.”
There – I’d said it. All that loyalty to lack that came from a childhood filled with uncertainty. Listening to my widowed mother repeat over and over again that that’s where we might wind up had settled securely in the very DNA of my bones. I had created it to be the horror or horrors – one that I would spend the rest of my life trying to avoid.
BOOM – it hit me.

“Oh, my God – don't you get it? That’s just what happened to Doug! He showed up and played out my biggest fear. In glorious human - flesh -Technicolor- reality - he lived out my worst nightmare. And what happened? He was totally taken care of. I mean REALLY taken care of."
The voice continued, “If it could happen for him (being cared for), do you have the slightest doubt that it could happen for you? And, do you honestly think it will ever get that far? Why, don’t you just drop the fear once and for all and make room for something better?”

That was nearly five years ago.

Doug took his own life this past Christmas (2004). He had left a note for a new wife that simply said, "check the car." In the front seat of that car, in a driveway somewhere in Tarpon Springs, FL, he used a gun to help him make his exit. I had not seen or spoken to him since that morning drive to LAX. He had not shown up for either of my sister’s funerals and we guessed that things had not improved. His drama was of a magnitude I will never comprehend and he played his part with choices vastly different than mine.

I trust his character is at peace now.

As far as my own drama? Well, it took my brother to show me in person how to change the course of it – to play my part in life more consciously – to teach me that I actually had nothing to fear. I would always be taken care of if I simply trust and believe. I would have liked to have thanked him for that in person but I trust now that as he waits in the wings for his next entrance, he knows.

postscript 2009: condolensces and e-mails continued to arrive over the years; stories from young adults who said how Doug had taken the time to autograph a shirt, a card, a glove or bat with such grace and presence. One young girl shared how Doug had gone out of his way to buy and send her brother a glove and ball after writing him about his hardship with leukemia. Many talked of their signed baseball cards and how that opening day game for Toronto will forever live in their hearts.
Through time we become aware that just because someone was unable to express love or compassion in one avenue of their lives does not mean they are totally void of those traits. Doug was fiercely loyal to many fans and made an indelible impression with them.

I Have A Job

2009-11-29T21:14:00.005-06:00

I have a job.

Some days it is to lie on the ground underneath a Japanese Maple tree in autumn and stare up at the indescribable red that has invaded each and every leaf.

I have a job.

Some days it is to stop and watch a street performer or musician’s act in its entirety, shake their hand then thank them with what was to be my lunch money.

I have a job.

Some days it is to wash, dry and fold my clothes as if I were doing so for my personal hero.

I have a job.

Some days it is to commit to memory a Yates, Rumi or some such poem, then recite it to the ones I love with the preface, “I learned this in honor of you.”

I have a job.

Some days it is to clean and vacuum my automobile of all the dog hair and sand from our trips to parks, woods and beaches, while being thankful for the inventions of cars and vacuums to chauffeur such honorable guests.

I have a job.

Some days it is to strengthen my understanding that just because others said no, doesn’t mean I have to quit believing in my personal yes.

I have a job.

Some days it is to take off my socks and shoes and walk barefoot in the high grass, trudge through slick, slippery mud or jog over wet, hot sand and then - pick a favorite.

I have a job.

Some days it is to go and buy colored chalk ~ then use it.

I have a job.

Some days it is to suck up the helium from a balloon then immediately change the message on my answering machine.

I have a job.

Some days it is to hand write an appreciation letter and mail it to my best friends instead of sending an e-mail or text.

I have a job.

Some days it is to sit and imagine a scene in my head where I am face to face with those I believe are the perpetrators of my greatest grief and hug them ~ hug them hard until each of us exhales all the pain and jointly inhale a new beginning.

I have a job.

Some days it is to show up and participate in an activity I've long resisted, just to remind myself that the things I resist only contain as much power as I give them.

I have a job.

Some days it is to realize that I am contagious – that when I smile at another, chances are high they become infected and smile back.

I have a job.

Some days it is to sit still with my sorrow or dance feverishly with my joy. Some days it is to contemplate and accept that both are equally important.

Yes, I have a job. It is to deepen my ability to cherish every moment - to label myself as conscious, kind, competent and grateful ~ to never take for granted that I breathe the same air as everyone else. It is to stand up and move forward after every fall ~ EVERY fall. It is to understand that the quality of my life is predicated on one great law, that I am greeted everyday by the companionship of my belief and that I can altar anything by altering those beliefs.

Yes, I have a job. It is to love all life. It is to love my life with every fiber of my being.

© 2009 David Ault

For A Moment

2009-11-25T13:14:00.001-06:00

For a moment every eye sees a petal begin its journey from stem to ground. And in that thimble full of time where all worry becomes extinct—all futurizing over what might be or what could happen ceases, then the world, in relaxation, unites in the joy of the now. Yes, imagine for a moment there is no worry.

For a moment every inhale welcomes wellness and the world feels relief from the accompanying pains of disease. The air hums with the sighs of billions expressing their collective relief. Yes, imagine for a moment there is no pain.

For a moment everybody wins and the victory circle is electric with the hugs, handshakes, and prayerful bows of authentic acknowledgment. It is the delicious moment when every mind with every heart conceives the truth that there is more than enough for all. Yes, imagine for a moment that everybody wins.

For a moment all are able to forgive every thing and every one from every page of the past; every thought of separation, every grievance and grudge. Brother understands brother, sister their sister; child understands parent, and parent their child; and the world is awash with liberation. Yes, imagine for a moment that all forgive.

For a moment there is no hunger and the bellies of all children and adults are filled with the precise nourishment their body is craving. Food is equally portioned and equally shared and all races and religions discover that by sharing, one need never suffer from hunger again. Yes, imagine for a moment there is an end to hunger.

For a moment every person, everywhere is active in their passion—doing what they love. Self doubt has evaporated and each heart beats with the rhythm of confidence. Creativity is a sacred act for the soul without concern for recompense or approval. Time and deadline is replaced with being lost in the joy of doing what one loves. Yes, imagine for a moment that everyone is living their passion.

For a moment every conscious thought tilts towards reverent action for the earth. The planet is nurtured and treated with sacred intention. Every ounce of air and water is pure. Pollution is a distant memory and each inhabitant contributes to unprecedented ecological stability. Yes, imagine for a moment the earth is healed.

For a moment every heart has someone to love and someone who loves them back. For every soul there is a connection and for every connection there is an appreciative soul. Loyalty, devotion and respect are as natural and effortless to embody as breathing. Yes, imagine for a moment that true love exists for all.

And with each imagined moment linked to the other, we stretch those moments to an occasion, those occasions to hours, those hours into days. And in those collections of days where the imagination is free to think as big and as grand as it can, we begin to see and feel the shifts—our planet, our hearts, our passions, our lives—all expanding and guiding us into a new era of living.

©2007 David Ault

It Already Exists

2009-10-29T23:23:00.001-05:00

You know the solutions that you seek, be they personal or global – solutions that would bring resolve either through concrete answers, demonstrations, signs, wise-counsel or guidance? Well, those solutions already exist.

Perhaps it is inaccurate to say that Columbus “discovered” America – the land mass we call America already existed. What Columbus did was be willing to get in a boat.

Perhaps it is inaccurate to say that Jonas Salk “discovered” the first successful polio vaccine – the elements to eradicate that disease already existed. What Salk did was show up faithfully, in his lab, dedicating his time and talent to uncovering the right combination of strains and tissue cultures to produce the desired result.

Perhaps it is inaccurate to say that the numerous astronomers such as Sir William Herschel or John Couch Adams “discovered” planets in our galaxy. Those planets already existed. What these guys did was combine a passion for astronomy with observation, cataloguing and mathematics to uncover these formations.

Consider that whatever we seek solutions for as a global entity already exist - be it the complete eradication of cancer, AIDS or world hunger - be it civil liberties, planetary and environmental conservation - be it ample education for all who desire it.

Consider that whatever you seek solutions for within your own personal life already exist – be it the feeling of appreciation and love, the answer to where to live or how to heal the relationship with your son, daughter, father, mother or spouse.

It is often said that what we seek is seeking us. That which we seek already exists.

With even the slightest consideration that this may be true, how could that alter your intentions? How would this effect the attitude behind your pursuits and the degree of belief you have for your individual capabilities? By the dissolution of futility, would you arrive at these solutions more gracefully, less wounded, influential or inspired?

Consider this.

You know that lover, partner, significant other you wish for – the one you pray possesses the qualities of self-sufficiency, kindness, passion and tenderness? The one you pray has the awareness that they’re already a whole person and do not need someone else to complete them? Well, they already exist and the synergy and support of the Universe is eager to bring them into your field of awareness when you become self-sufficient, kind, passionate, tender and celebrate the fact that you, too, are already whole.

You know that incredible job that utilizes your talents, challenges your creativity, generates an excellent income and causes you to smile that deep satisfying soul smile when you wake up in the morning if only for the mere privilege of getting to participate in it one more day? Well, that job already exists and the sooner you strengthen your talents, engage your creativity and recognize and honor your worth with every thought, word and deed, the sooner you’ll notice the ad about the hiring, meet the right contact or create the job yourself.

You know the experience of wellness you crave so deeply – wellness that out pictures itself as your physical body, joint mobility, strong immunity and/or internal organ functioning working in harmony with all body systems? Well, that wellness already exists. Like a sculpture waiting patiently to be chiseled from its current state, your physical temple is waiting to be moved from wishing it so to creating it so. It bides time until a concrete dedication to your wellness becomes more important than succumbing to disappointment, fickle discipline or mental sabotage.

You know the prosperity that you fantasize will set you free - prosperity that would eliminate the current burdens, woes and difficulties that seem so unconquerable – prosperity that would rescue you from the imprisonment of that insurmountable medical bill? Well, that prosperity and freedom already exists. By shifting your dedication of thought to acknowledging and celebrating what you do have - food in your pantry, breath in your lungs, clothes on your back or sight in your eyes instead of the allegiance to lack that always accompanies focusing on what is wrong, missing, or unjust, then infinite supply can finally burst through the barriers of that unconscious focusing and deliver to you what is rightfully yours. With the development of new pro-active habits towards gratitude, prosperity can continue to appear in ways expected and unexpected.

Author and metaphysician Ernest Holmes frequently stated that we create nothing – everything has already been created through Infinite Intelligence. What we do is tap into that creation through the expansion of our consciousness. In one of his first writings - 1918’s Creative Mind, Holmes reveals in the introduction, “As there is ‘nothing new under the sun’, the searchlight of truth is bringing to light only what has been known to the few in all generations. The time has now come when the few must become the many….If it awakens within the consciousness of one single individual the realization that the mind of the Universe (which is the only mind that there is) is his own mind, that the creative power of this mind is his also; that the manifestation of this mind is his own individuality, that the love and power and peace of this mind is within himself, it will not be written in vain.”

Love already exists. Peace already exists. Creative fulfillment already exists. Wholeness already exists. How to end world hunger already exists. Wellness already exists. Thriving already exists.

Yes, your solution already exists.

© 2009 David Ault

In Reflection

2009-10-02T11:02:00.002-05:00

Today is three months to the day of completing The Camino pilgrimage through Spain.

Although I attempt to find written and spoken words to convey the experience, they somehow manage to fall short. Perhaps that is the way it should be.

Here are a few attempts at sharing my process.

Parts one through three - a talk given at Unity of Grapevine, TX in August of 2009

Fellow pilgrims sharing a meal on our next to last night.

Day 34 July 2 The Arrival

2009-07-08T12:01:00.001-05:00

I was up with the first rustlings of other pilgrims on this final day. It was 5 AM - still pitch black but I was dressed and standing on the road outside the alburgue in a matter of 15 minutes. I said a prayer of thanks for the journey and affirmed that whatever insights were wanting to come to me, that I would be fully receptive to hear them on this, the 34th day - the day of completion.

I dug my pinlight out of my pouch for in less than 10 minutes I was deep in the woods again. Thick dense darkness. I couldn't even see whether the path was strewn with a haphazard mosaic of stones or smooth dirt so I gingerly stepped and searched with the small beam for the guiding arrows. Had to be a metaphor here regarding the darkness. For one thing we all know that it's temporary and second, if you don't resist it, your eyes begin to adjust so that you CAN see enough to sustain your way. My eyes did adjust enough to help me in walking and yes, as in life, the darkness did eventually lift.

There were the kilometer markers 17, then 16.5, then 16....

It would all be over in a matter of hours - the walking part anyway. The spiritual revelation aspect of this was only just beginning.

What had I learned so far?

worrying about the future is useless; the only thing we are empowered to work with is the now.
the physical body simply obeys what you tell it - you tell it it is inadequate then it will perform inadequately. You tell it that its potential is unlimited, then you get unlimited experiences of physical output. You tell it that it's too old, then it performs weakly. you tell it that it keeps improving with age, then it does. Pure and simple.
what I may lack in speed I certainly make up in stamina
I am so much more than any labeled physical diagnosis
I am polymorphic - no one thing at all times nor is anything ever set in stone. Some days I am an introvert, some days I am filled with extroverted tendencies. Some days certain walking styles will work, some days they won't. Some days you feel strong, some days you don't. None of it is right or wrong - it just is.
Regardless of cultural heritage, people are the same all over the world. They want to be seen and heard. They want to feel safe and find their tribe of acceptance. They want to do things that expand their quest for meaning and they want to feel as if they matter.
I am, no doubt, the reincarnated soul of an explorer - I lust for adventure and growth that only seeing the world seems to satisfy. Part gypsy, part seeker, part daredevil....I could go on for the remainder of my years combing the world and yet my needs are extraordinarily simple - a blend of seemingly incongruent traits that somehow compliment.
Creature comforts are certainly wonderful AND sometimes they hinder the deeper experience.
I'm now 50 years old and I feel like I have just begun to understand life, myself and the infinite possibilities before me.
No one will give me what I am unwilling to give myself (No one CAN give me what I am unwilling to give myself)

.... and on and on and on.

Suberb type scenery began to appear over the next two hours and I walked under the flight path of the Santiago airport even though there was probably a good 10 kilometers to go.
I realized that I had walked every single step of The Camino. Even that day into Burgos when so many opted for buses through a massive industrial area, I walked it. The very thing I thought I would be tempted to do, I had averted and I'd stayed dedicated to walking every inch.

The kilometer markers started to disappear and the area known as Monte de Gozo finally appeared. There was lots of people hanging around some post modern sculpture, grabbing the first available coffee from a roadside stand and looking or waiting for others. After a quick break, I crested the road and saw Santiago - a big sprawling city down below. I could not see any spires to indicate a cathedral but I knew that it was tucked in there somewhere. So down, down, down I went towards the city, crossing into traffic and seeing the city sign announcing that you were here.
I followed the shell markers through the streets for another 30 minutes, winding my way around and waiting for that first glimpse.

And then a moment I will always remember, I turned the corner onto a descending street and saw one of the spires of the Cathedral - home. I choked up and started to softly cry.

You did it David - you did it. You hiked the Camino. Closer and closer I moved towards the direction of the massive church. A huge banner hung across a narrowed cobbled street announcing some medieval festival. The directions began to disappear and I suddenly found myself in the throws of a carnival type atmosphere with booth after booth of food, trinkets and wares. I was now a bit turned around in the midst of all this and looked up for others who might be pilgrims. I got a few nudges from locals and kept turning and turning in the midst of this sea of revelry until I suddenly saw the back of the cathedral.

I kept following it around about to turn into the plaza when I ran right into Paulo. I lost it and we hugged and hugged and told each other congratulations. He pointed me in the direction of the plaza where I could take off my backpack and do the traditional laying down on the ground. You lay down on the ground and look up at the cathedral - signifying your willingness to look at your life now from a different perspective.

It was a beautiful day and the 11'ish morning sun in the sky was directly behind one of the cathedral spires giving it an amazing back light. I laid on the stone of the plaza and breathed - deep inhales of gratitude for my safe arrival, for life, for everything - grateful for this particular spot on earth that had absorbed the gratitude and relief of countless pilgrims throughout the ages. Like the Bodhi tree, Mt. Calvary, Mecca it deserved it's title as sacred.

I eventually checked into the pilgrim's office next to the cathedral and received my Compostella - my document of completion - then attended the noon mass honoring all the pilgrims that arrived yesterday after the mass and this morning. I couldn't understand a word of it but it was emotional and thrilling to be there as an honoree.

Connecting with Mark, finding a hostal right off the square and cleaning up, the rest of the day was a blur of hugs, greetings, celebration and food all while strolling among the street vendors; listening to live music and sharing stories and resisting some emotional good-byes.

This was it, the culmination of a ten year dream and I somehow knew that this particular adventure, walking the Road to Santiago, would be unparalled in scope and meaning with any thing else I might encounter in this lifetime. And how perfect, for the road of my personal legend as Paulo Cuelho often refers, is a varied and mysterious one.

"To realize one's Personal Legend is a person's only real obligation. All things are one. And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Paulo Cuelho

A deep, abiding thanks to all of you who followed my journey, who wrote words of encouragement, said prayers and knew the highest and best with and for me each and every kilometer.

Blessed Be and Love, David

Day 33 July 1 Arco do Pino - The Last Alburgue

2009-07-07T21:48:00.003-05:00

You can feel the anticipation of completion among everyone. It is sort of the Christmas Eve of the Camino, a moment within this month long build-up that you both love and yet also yearn for the transformation of morning to come.

And within this 33rd day of travel, I knew there would never be anything like this to cross my life path again - there would never be anyway to accurately articulate this experience to anyone unless they'd choose to travel here and set one foot in front of the other based on some internal tug. This would be a bond I'd share with a very select few and a journey that would evidently have a greater sustaining impact long after reaching the steps of the Cathedral at Santiago.

I had thought little of my mother and her passing on the week of Mother's Day yet now I was getting the impression that finally she understood me, my life's calling and the enormous drive I have to create and experience every drop of adventure this life has to offer. For now she was viewing it all from a different vantage point. I thought about her right at the beginning of the morning for as I stared at my misshapen feet, they were now exact carbon copies of how I remember hers looking throughout the years - swollen, short-toed - ankles filled with fluid. What was it she'd do to get that swelling to go down - elevate them? That would have to wait as I had 2 more days of walking before me.

Made a morning stop in Arzua, a fairly large town just 5 kilometers away from last night's alburgue. Time for a quick coffee, banana and a piece of toast.

About 80% of the 23 kilometers today was level, wooded area and I got the sense to slow and savor it just a bit. After all, tomorrow I'll wind up at a cathedral as my destination and there will probably be a great deal of activity to follow. This would be my last simple Camino walk day - my last chance to listen and absorb any messages that were trying to make their way to my heart in a distraction free time frame.

But I seemed to simply walk in a deep silence, my mind emptying and occasionally traveling to the future and how would I process all this once I got home.
So lost in thought was I, that I took the long way into Arco and had to circle back to the municipal alburgue.

Like the papers indicated, it was a monstrous place - more prison like than architecturally memorable or distinctive. The weather had turned a bit cool and damp and I decided to forego washing clothes and simply shower and repack everything for an early departure tomorrow.
Turns out Barbara from California had gotten ill this morning and chose to take a cab for part of the way. We eventually met for dinner and again, on a full stomach and a growing anxiousness, I willed myself to bed as early as possible for the final day.

Day 32 June 30 The Home Stretch

2009-07-07T16:56:00.001-05:00

Gorgeous morning skies opened up with the rise of the sun and I seem to take a record number of pics while starting out as my mind and body felt rested from last night's accomodations. Today was Palas del Rei to Ribadiso - a lengthy 27 kilometer day. I wore short "footie" socks with the open hiking sandals again and there seemed to be enough support and a large enough area around my toes to avoid any additional pain or swelling. The hiking boots were now permanently stuffed into side pouches on the backpack.

With the footwear situation handled, I moved forward with thoughts of the near completion of the journey and a catalog of Michael Jackson songs going through my mind.
I abandoned using the walking stick (stuck it through a loophole in my pack) and discovered that by using my thumbs tucked within the shoulder straps of the pack, I could play around with the pressure, hoist it forward and create an entirely new walking experience. OK, so I discovered this on day 32....better late than never.

I continued to reflect on my introverted nature and how much more I seemed to enjoy the walking experience alone than with others. But was that really the full story or was there other factors that contributed to that choice? I finally admitted to myself that when I would be walking with someone, I would be totally focused on whether or not I was going fast enough for them - was I inhibiting their experience? I would seem to forget that everyone has the liberty to choose to tell me they were going to pick up speed or to simply know that if someone walked with me, it was because they wanted to.

I adored my periodic hours of walking with Paulo from Bologna, Italy. Our walking together was joyous, entertaining, flirty and a time for both of us to help each other with our native language. Come si chiama quella cosa in italiano? When our strides varied, we'd pick up the conversations over dinner. And there was a heart-opening crush that developed that made introversion seem non-existent. Yes, it was hard to hang back a day way back in Burgos knowing he was going to continue the following morning.

So is it really about being an introvert or more appropriately targeted towards worrying about what others think and leaning to aspects of people pleasing? Perhaps a bit of both. Maybe it just depended on the energy felt in the moment between those on the trail. It was a huge day of reflection with a wide and varied Michael Jackson soundtrack.

With only two more days to go, Ribadiso became a sort of gathering pit stop for many of the same tribe of pilgrims I'd seen and spent time with for the last two weeks.
The alburgue was a large compound of sleeping quarters, showers and a small flowing stream with a rock formed in the shape of a dock where many dangled their legs to soothe swollen feet.

There was a long table of us for dinner that night - pilgrims winding down their lengthy, strenuous journey. The mood was part anxious, part relief, part giddiness at what the next two days would hold. Soon afterwards, sleep beckoned and it was a relief to be able to drift off fairly easily.

Day 31 June 29 When It Rains

2009-07-05T12:31:00.002-05:00

I managed in the sandal/shoes with a pair of footie socks to help cushion my throbbing toenails.

It was, however, a staggering, stumbling kind of day - uniquely humid, repetitive gradual climbs and what felt to be an unbearably lengthy time of simply trying to wake up. There has been a lot of tossing and turning over the past weeks and I am beginning to notice how sleep deprived I feel. Perhaps this morning was just a cumulative sensation of all of that coupled with the new emotional and physical dealings with my toe(s). They look so bad that it can be hard to distance yourself from "catastrophizing" the circumstance and trusting that the damage will eventually remedy itself.

I think all of this coupled with the fact that there was an enormous influx of new pilgrims merging onto the path (those who do the last 100 kilometers) that it was a day that simply felt hard on all fronts.

Groups of noisy walkers would pass and I would find myself hanging back again and again to find pockets of quiet.

By that afternoon, it began to rain. This was not the drizzly kind that I had encountered on occasion - this was a real downpour and even with my poncho on and my backpack covered, I decided it best to wait it out by ducking into an open cow barn.

For approximately 15 minutes, I breathed in the smell I had come to encounter for the last week - moist cow manure. The bovine beauties were chewing their cud and looking at me as if I were the ugliest breed they´d seen in these parts. The requisite barn dog growled at me for invading his space but did nothing more than that since I believe it was his siesta time.

Standing there with the cows, growling dog, wet - feet hurting, tendons still throbbing, it all just got to be ridiculously absurd and I actually started to laugh at all the elements of my predicament. "Who else do you know who´s standing in a cow barn in Spain wearing a backpack, soaking wet and is hobbling along on swollen legs and feet?" No one with any sense, that´s for sure and I just thought how my roads of travel adventures have certainly gotten me into some rare and priceless predicaments.

My mood lifted in that barn. I made a few friends with the cows and as soon as the downpour let up, I continued on to Palas del Rei.

Within 2 hours I was standing at the first building I saw in the town that had habatacion on it. Something drew me there even though I knew it wasn´t the pilgrim alburgue. It was sort of an upscale camping hotel - a bit pricey for pilgrims, 37€ but something said take it. I had a private room and a private bath and I spent the rest of that evening, drying clothes, bathing, trying to restore my body.

It had been a very out of sorts day but this resting place was absolutely what I needed and I fell deeply asleep.

Day 30 June 28 Shrinking Boots

2009-07-05T11:35:00.002-05:00

There was a doable 6 kilometer walk to the larger town of Sarria where Mark, Barbara and I treated ourselves to a breakfast buffet at a real hotel - not a hostal mind you, a real hotel with like a lobby and a staff that bathed and wore crisp uniforms.....

It was just so out of the norm after all this time to be in a hotel dining room atmosphere with a smattering of tourist and here were the three of us - already aromatic, bed-head dreads trying to blend in. :-)

The buffet was delicious - particular the watermelon slices which I devoured like a malnourished child. Eggs, pastries, strong coffee, juices and more. After eating, I took off one way to find an ATM machine and thought that Mark and Barbara headed directly out of the town towards the evening's destination. Wound up they found an open internet cafe at that time of the morning and stayed several hours communicating with the outside world.

This was the magical day of the 100 kilometer marker - letting the pilgrim know that only 100 more kilometers to go before reaching Santiago. I loved how in this province of Galicia, they erected these measuring markers for it seemed to psychologically help when I walked - having the visual to count down my days progress.

Mid day I noticed that the occasional numbness that I was feeling in my left foot big toe area was starting to get increasingly painful. There was quite a bit of descending terrain to cover today and the pressure of the toe hitting the edge of the boot with each step almost felt as though the boot had shrunk a half size. It became increasingly more unavoidable to ignore and I did everything I could to adjust my walking stride - even attempting zig zag snow plow maneuvers as I walked downhill.

Within about 2 kilometers of reaching Portomarin, I came upon an elderly woman in her mid-seventies from South Africa named Dorothy. She was walking very gingerly over a patch of stone steps that were placed through a small running creek. With it being difficult to pass and she sensing someone behind her, I called out for her not to worry about me and to take her time. When we got over the creek area, she stopped and we chatted a bit.

This was her first day and she felt she had bitten off more than she could chew with her desire to walk the minimum requirement of 100 kilometers to receive her Compostella for the Camino. I told her what I had told myself day after day - it isn´t a race. I knew there were no other stopping areas before Portomarin but assured her that after today she could manage perhaps a few kilometers a day until she reached Santiago. She was in the mood to talk and wanted to know all the particulars about my life. I, too, wanted to know why she chose to do this at this stage of her life. Recently widowed, Dorothy felt she had never done anything that wasn´t for or about someone else. This, the Camino, seemed so radical and grand that she felt she needed something of this magnitude to help "wake up her soul". I could not leave this moment without hugging her and saying I knew she could do this or she would not be here.

Within a half hour of saying good-bye to Dorothy, I crossed a long bridge over a large body of water to the town of Portomarin. The wind was so strong that I held my hat in my hand as I crossed the enormous water mass and reached the edge of town. By now my left big toe was throbbing and I navigated over to a sign for a privado alburgue rather than the municipal - usually a few euro more and less packed. Got a bed and sat down to remove my boot and see what was going on.

Wow - the entire nail on my left big toe had some how been damaged enough by the repeated squeezing pressure in my boot that it lost all blood flow and was now dead yet resting on top of the exposed nerves. There was also the beginnings of that on my right big toe coupled with that sides continued tendinitis.

There was blood all over my left foot and I very carefully showered the area without removing the dead toenail. If I could keep it resting there, I could still manage a sock over it until I could figure out what to do. For awhile I sat dazed and confused. What would I do? I knew that I could not put the boots back on yet wondered if I'd be able to walk in my night shoes - a pair of slip on sandal-type shoes for the duration of these remaining days?

As much as I wanted to lay down and rest, my mind was spinning and calculating, tossing over scenarios. The room with 4 bunk beds was only separated from other rooms by curtains and the air felt stifling and musty. I decided to test drive my walking abilities and ventured into the town, found a cafe and nursed my psyche with an incredible bowl of Galecian soup - white navy beans, greens, and broth that tasted out of this world.

I knew the sight and shock of what was going on in the feet department would lose some of its potency by morning. I trusted that the remaining terrain and my alternative footwear would somehow work its self out in my favor.

I would certainly find out very soon.

Day 29 June 27 Choose Ye This Day For Me

2009-07-03T09:27:00.003-05:00

Around 6 AM, Mark and I stood about 4 pilgrims deep around a makeshift bar and ate a couple of bites of toast and drank a small paper cup full of cafe con leche. He suggested I go ahead since Barbara was not ready and they would catch up later.

What must go up must come down and the first 10 kilometers of that morning were to be twist and turns down, down, down again. I noticed that my right boot felt as though it had shrunk a 1/2 size because there was now a fairly intense pinching going on in the left big toe area. I would try to compensate and curl my toe back a bit with each step but nothing seemed to resolve the pinching. Just decided to focus on the walk and ignore the pinching for awhile.

The descent seemed to level off at the town of Triacastela and I entered an open bar and ordered another coffee and a pastrie just as Mark and Barbara arrived. We rested a bit, found a farmacia open where we each bought either ibuprofen, cough drops, blister cushions or variations of the three. Soon afterwards, the lack of sleep from the night before seemed to hit me like two tons of bricks as I just stood in the middle of this road. I motioned at Mark and Barbara that I would meet them later.

"Wow, this is some serious fatigue," I said´hovering over and taking off my backpack. I pondered for a bit about what I was going to do. When you talk with others, it seems there is always that fleeting thought in every pilgrims mind from time to time about giving in and maybe taking a taxi or bus to that night´s destination. I´m not sure if I would have had the will power at that moment to decline if one had materialized beside me.

I´m so glad that one didn´t.

After a few minutes of circling round and round in my head with these thoughts, I decided that the day was going to be my opportunity to create the perfect Camino day - the one I'd fantasized about long before setting foot in Spain.

To help support that, the weather was gorgeous, sunny, a continually cool breeze. Every meadow I passed would have this uncharacteristic opening in the stone wall barriers or old rusted fences separating someone´s property would be wide open. I took this as an open invitation and settled into a slanted hillside pasture that was filled with wild mint and patches of clover.

I love clover - read my book Where Regret Cannot Find Me, and you´ll discover how much patches of clover remind me of my dad. As a child I would spend hours searching for four leaf ones and whenever discovering any, press them in books. I had noticed huge mounds of clover for days now and even though I would glance at them as I walked by, I never really stopped and looked. Now I did.

I laid out my sleeping bag, plucked some wild mint to chew and rolled onto my stomach as I scowered the clover patches for the prize. Time floated. I scowered the ground when suddenly my eye caught one. Victory at last, my eyes landed on another and then another until I had found 7 all in the same vicinity. And just as I did as a young boy, I pressed them into my journal. Rolling onto my back, I looked out over the beautiful field, the gorgeous sky and embraced my perfect Camino day.

I fell alseep for a short time while breeze and sun watched over me. Just shy of an hour, I opened my eyes. Bees were seriously engaged with the clover and the clouds were now interrupting the sun's rays. It felt cooler. I rolled up the sleeping bag and got back on the trail feeling rejuvenated. The rest of the hours brought bagpipe music coming from someone rehearsing in a barn. A bit further on, I came upon an old renovated stone building where a former pilgrim from England, who´d fallen in love with the area from a previous Camino pilgrimage, had returned to create his painting studio. Chatted with him a bit - then continued on to an out of the way pit stop called Cabor where I had agreed to meet Mark and Barbara.

Even after all that rest time, I still arrived at that alburgue around 4 PM. It turns out only 4 of us stayed in Cabor that night while dozens of others opted for the next larger town. It felt a bit odd having all that space and only 4 pilgrims to use it.

Slept some more, was shuttled to a nearby restaurant for the evening meal since no restaurants were within 5 kilometers. Coming back, feeling awkward in an automobile, I suddenly became increasingly aware that the end of this journey was getting seriously close.

Day 28 June 26 Merciless Climbs And Learning Muerte

2009-07-03T08:41:00.001-05:00

And the cellular memory of Day 1 kicked back in. It was to be a day merciless ascents. The irony of these kinds of days is that the views are spectacular and yet, I am breathing so hard, sweating so intensely, gageing each step and playing whatever mind games that will keep me sane for the next 7 hours of this, that I often find myself critical of not enjoying it more. So between the rest, I would look out into the cold hanging mist now hovering at my level and flow some appreciation.

The great thing was that my extra slow pace on this grueling day allowed Mark and Barbara to catch up after a week. We all stumbled into a weathered miedeval pub in the mountains at a remarkable village named O´Cebreiro and devoured some local food from the newly entered province of Galicia for lunch. I had a very hot stew of pork ribs and carrots and felt completely confident I could find something to do for a living and stay here rather than continue climbing.

I guzzled some agua con gas at the pub and caught a glimpse at a flat screen TV that was on the wall. Images of Michael Jackson were flashing and the word muerte was there in the banner. Muerte, muerte? Then when I saw a picture of an ambulance I determined what muerte meant. Not long after, there was a clip of Farrah Fawcett as well - again the word - muerte.

I felt a renewed since of appreciation for my life and suddenly didn´t care so much that I had hours of more climbing. Still slow but all the while thinking of the many remarkable things I have to be grateful for, I finally reached the stopping point at Fonfria in the early evening.

High in the mountains with the aroma of fresh, moist cow pies every where you turned, I checked into the extremely crowded alburgue. With only a few makeshift spaces left to sleep, Mark asked if I wanted to pay a bit more and see about getting a double room that was available.
We both jumped at the chance and I loved having a private shower after that day.

With nothing else in town, we sat at long tables and ate family style; vegetable soup, and hunks of meat and clumps of potatoes - yes, you read right hunks and clumps, making me wonder if they slaughtered those cows right out back. The Galecian wine tasted like vinegar but the local dessert, a torte made of nuts, powdered sugar and spices was delicious.

Free from a night of "auditorium" snoring, I savored the chance to sleep well but my brain had other plans and I was an insomniac for most of the night. The hunks and clumps probably contributed for there was also a bit of heartburn starting and I propped my pillow and sleeping bag up behind me to help ease the discomfort. Still, only catching minutes of sleep at a time, it was a long lingering - and, oh yeah, with all those cow pies - a muy fragrante night.

Day 27 June 25 The Doorway of Forgiveness

2009-06-30T10:25:00.001-05:00

Slept hard that night. Body really needed it and having guzzled down so much water before bed has helped the swelling in the right leg tendons.

Started out about 6:45 AM staying mostly on a main road out of town until an alternate route was offered off of that before getting to the town of Villafrañca del Bierzo. Checked inward and even though staying on the main road would have been faster this morning, something said take the alternate route. So I listened to my gut and angled to the right.

At first after encountering a fairly steep hill, I thought I´d made a mistake but after that ascent, I was greeted with beautiful fields and a bizarre grouping of statues in the middle of nowhere which turned out to be the work space of some local sculptor. Towering white stone statues sitting in the midst of vineyards and wheat - quite fun.

The other pay off for listening to my intuition was that when I did arrive in Villafrañca- towards the backway, I passed the St James Church where next to the road was the infamous Doorway of Forgiveness. This was the Romanesque doorway built in the 12th century and where for centuries after, pilgrims who were too ill to continue the journey to Santiago, passed through here and were granted an indulgence.

Can´t tell you why but I had a serious emotional moment looking at that door. I thought about my petty aches and pains compared to the intense physical challenges so many must have endured through freezing temperatures and hardships we can never fathom. Here´s where they collapsed in their disappointment and were cared for.

It was fairly early in the town, a beautiful, picturesque mountain village reminiscent of some swiss alp village, and I sat for a coffee from the cafe and ate some fruit from my packback.
Had that desire to want to come back here and visit longer - a feeling I´ve had in a few other places. It felt peaceful and good here and I took longer than usual to rest and soak it all in.

I eventually gathered myself together and headed on - a day motly adjacent to main roads but separated enough by a recently installed safety barrier on the right and a lovely river that ran all along that days walk on the left. One barely noticed traffic from looking at the amazing flowing water.

Became a bit drizzly and stopped to cover everything and put on my lime green $2 poncho. Yes, you can definitely see me coming. Had the fun thought that God was Joe Cocker singing, "You Are So Beautiful To Me" to everyone. Even in my lime green poncho, swollen leg and burnt skin, I was beautiful to God.

Got to the municipal alburgue a bit soggy and was disappointed to discover there was no hot water. It was brisk and uncomfortable and there was no real way to dry the days clothes. I was creative as possible, hanging my socks, underwear, shirt and shorts in the slats above my head in the bunk bed - sort of like creating a tent with laundry.

Not much else to do here. Walked to a small store and bought a piece of bread, some cheese and salami for my evening meal. Felt a bit disconnected from the rest of the pilgrims staying here. I remember thinking that I have had such extraordinary experiences in all the places I´ve stayed so far soooo, it was time to experience the other side. After the sandwich and some writing, I climbed through the still damp makeshift clothes line and did my best to drift off to sleep.

Day 26 June 24 The Joys of an ATM and a Pepperoni Pizza

2009-06-29T12:15:00.002-05:00

The ibuprofen (also known as hiker´s candy) definitely has a time release.

I´m discovering I need to get educated on that part.

Back out that morning on the Camino and I guess you could say the "novocaine" wore off.
Ahhhhhhh! So much for trying to have a drug free day. I took more Ibuprofen and hobbled my way into the big industrial city of Ponferrada. It is the first city I´ve seen in these northern regions where the graffiti is out of control. I mean out of control - as in everywhere - as on the sides of churches, houses, businesses, gosh, probably people if the stood still long enough. It makes one wonder what is different here in terms of jurisdictional overseeing than in other cities. Hard to enjoy the surroundings even when the ibuprofen had started to take effect. The one saving grace here was the Knights Templar Castle in the heart of the city. It loomed large and majestic and was absolutely gorgeous. And yes, even in the entrance area for the turisto office there was graffiti.

Started to get my stride back and headed out of Ponferrada. I was a bit frustrated because I was certain I would come across a bank in a place this large. Running short on cash and needed to use an ATM but there were none to be found on the designated pilgrim route. I had to trust that somewhere between now and Cacabelos, tonight´s destination, there would be a bank or machine. Can be hard to gage such things. Most smaller towns do not have anything like that or even stores that have machines like we are use to seeing in the states. Mantra: An ATM will appear. An ATM will appear.

As I walked, I wondered where Mark and Barbara might be. I had not seen them now for over a week and I guessed at this point we might be finishing on different days.
Saw Heinrich and Richard again and they commented on how much better I was walking. Just like a "pusher" to encourage his user. :-) No Heinrich was right, had I not taken the ibuprofen, I would not be able to walk - perhaps not the best way to promote healing the tendons but it is what it is.

A string of smaller villages were on the route and just as affirmed, one of them had not one ATM, but three. Eureka - cash problem solved.

Got to Cacabelos around 3:30 PM - a town with a strange combination of old and new. Somehow architecturally it seemed to work and I discovered from a little twisting and turning of streets, a pizzeria - offering something different than the traditional pilgrim´s menu. After working out the language barriers and making sure I did not order one with tuna or octupus on it, I sat and hungrily ate my as-close-to-pepperoni-as-I-think-I-could-find dinner with an insalata mista (mixed salad).

With a very happy stomach and heavy eyes, I headed to the alburgue for the night for some much needed sleep.

In my bunk bed, I looked at the route schedules and became amazed at the fact there are only 8 days left. I have come so far - I fell asleep affirming that I would I discover newer experiences of clarity and purpose in my final week.

Day 25 June 23 Discovering Hiker´s Candy

2009-06-29T11:46:00.001-05:00

I have gorgeous terrain because of climbing higher and higher into the mountains prior to Foncebadon and a bit more this morning leaving. Within an hour I am at the famous Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross) which is where pilgrims are to place a stone representing their leaving a burden on the trail. Reminded me of doing work in Peru with the Andean priest and the stone ceremonies I was taught - blow your worries, fears into the stones and return them back to Pachhu Mama - Mother Earth to be absorbed and neautralized back into the nothingness from whence they came.

I felt I had much to leave in my stone this morning - thoughts of inadequacy, physical limitations I was currently feeling with the tendinitis but much deeper soul questions as to concerns regarding my next phase of life. Seems that turning 50 has brought about much reflection as to the what and where of the next part of my journey.

It was cool and you could see the mountain mist hanging at eye level all around.

What followed was a descent of gigantic proportion. Down and down and down and down for hours through rocks and dirt and the pressure on my right shin sent shooting pain all the way through my leg. Somewhere around hour 3 of this, Heinrich and Richard from Germany passed me and saw I was struggling. Heinrich pulled out an Ibuprofin that was in some sort of large milogram dosage and said you better take this or you won´t be able to walk tomorrow.

So there we were, on the Camino trail in Spain having a drug exchange. Ha.

The ibuprofen would not kick in for another hour and I continued to wince with every step until I could see a leveling of the terrain about to take place and the makings of Molinaseca below. Nirvana. I limped my way into the town and immediately thought how gorgeous it was. I passed across a picturesque bridge situated over a river and for one of the first times observing in all these towns, I could actually see locals out and about in mass (not the church kind) - most enjoying themselves around the river.

The alburgue was all the way through the town and located next to an old cathedral. It was a semi-circle structure that went around the church and then it had these mini prison-like cells that slept two. I was sharing a cell with Giuseppe, an older gentleman from Italy with a bright red sunburned face and what I predicted to be a generous snore.

After the usual showering and washing, I could feel the effects of the ibuprofin and the pain was slowly dissolving away. I found a farmacia in town and bought myself a box of what many now call hiker´s candy.

Tracing my steps back to that river at the entrance, I went and put both legs into the ice cold water - best thing for the tendons- and sat for a very long time watching kids play futbol (soccer), couples stretched out on blankets, mothers with babies. It was a great reward for today´s painful journey.

Dinner with the guys from Germany then back to the "cell" where my prediction was right on. Giuseppe had a snore that could peel paint off walls. Gotta love those earplugs.

Day 24 June 22 Oh Those Pesky Tendons

2009-06-25T10:35:00.001-05:00

The last time I had ever heard, talked about or experienced tendinitis was in junior high school basketball practice. That was mostly from tying my shoe laces too tight.

The sting was manageable in the morning and I knew I had some major climbing ahead of me today.

I was unusally hungry this morning and the first town after Astorga seemed waiting with an open cafe at 7 AM just to satisfy my growling stomach. With Cafe Americano and a manageable sized sandwich of egg, lettuce, tomato, pimentos and mayo, I devoured it and thought how strange that my hunger cycles are all over the place. Sometimes the thought of food in the morning makes me nauseas - and hear, now, I probably could have eaten three of those sandwiches. I see these three Spanish girls nearly everyday and without fail they will consume bocadillos, pastries, tortillas like it is their last meal. Where does it all go? I simply smile at them most of the time and peel my orange.

Maybe there metabolisms are having some influence over me, for I was hungry again at high noon and stopped in the town of Rabanal del Camino for a quick bowl of spaghetti bolognaise. It was another 6 kilometers to Foncebadon, a quirky nothing of a town that would sit at one of the highest peaks on the trail. Even though ascending into territory normally covered with massive snow many months out of the year, today was remarkably hot and these final paths were rocky and the shin was starting to hurt quite a bit.

I passed a trough, fountain - like structure and took my right boot and sock off and soaked my leg. There were swarms of bees everywhere because of the abundant wild flowers and I gently shooed them away from my pack while I soaked in the icy, algae filled water.

Eventually crested the top of the peak and saw Foncebadon and the alburgue, sort of a ski lodge type building, lacking character but I was grateful to finally get off my leg. I went through the routine washing and sat outside next to this old lodge structure which was some sort of restaurant where the owners dress in miedeval outfits and serve food the way it was served back then. Open only sparingly, it made you wonder what the course would look like on your plate. Hunk of cow with a hunk of bread? Also right next to it was a circular building with various celtic and religious symbols carved into its sides - looked almost like some sort of ancient sweat lodge.

That night I had a lovely conversation with Kathy, a woman from Texas who works for the americanpilgrims.com association and comes to Spain every other year to devote time at various alburgues and offer assistance to pilgrims. She told me the circular building was an ancient building where a family would sleep in the top of the circle and house their animals underneath them which produced enough heat for them to survive the brutal winters. My curiousity was definitely piqued surrounded by the strange surroundings.

Thankful for some ibuprofin cream that a guy from Italy gave me after having recovered from his tendinitis, I applied it liberally on my shin and elevated it a bit on the edge of the iron bar on my bunk bed.

Long day comes to an end.

Day 23 June 21 Fairytales and Legends

2009-06-25T09:48:00.001-05:00

All that rest does a body good and I was up, packed and out the door of the alburgue by 5 AM.

Walking through the dark, using my small-pinlight to help guide me through a short, forested road, I thought of vampires and creatures of the night. Vampires like Europe more than the States, right? Spain just sounds more geographically appropriate/romantic for mythic creatures rather than say something like, Alabama.

A bit spooked at first, I kept walking briskly till the beginnings of daylight showed and felt remarkably well. Even at 27 kilometers, I looked forward to a long trek to the small city of Astorga.

On the way, I passed through the town of Hospital de Orbigo and crossed what was to be the most famous of all bridges that pilgrim´s cross on this traditional route. It was a long beautifully crafted stone structure dating back to the 11th century. It was on this very bridge that a young knight opted to place a shackle around his neck and not remove it until he had defeated 300 of the countries finest swordsmen. His point - to prove to a maiden in this town his devotion and love for her. What an attention getter. You wonder with all that turmoil and spent energy, the shackle, the amount of time it must have taken to knock off a total of 300 other knights, if she would have been as equally impressed if he had simply invited her out for a moonlight walk and gave her a bunch of hand-picked wild flowers.

The bridge and the placards explaining the story were adjacent to a real live jousting field and the entire surroundings gave me quite a buzz. A beautiful cafe awaited on the other side of the bridge and I sat, had morning coffee and looked out over the entire area and town. What an impressive sight and to think this was the real deal, not some manufactured backlot set at Warner´s Bros. Further investigation revealed that this place and its historical event were what inspired Cervantes to write Don Quixote. Sitting there, alone, sipping coffee in the midst of a legendary setting, I felt that amazing jolt of freedom course through my body. I can only describe it as a sense of profound bliss - anonymous, experiencing the richness of life - yet involved in something of meaning and purpose.

I finally pulled my self away and continued on the trail, turning soon to a scenic route that would take me through gorgeous scenery and village after village throughout the day and early afternoon. I arrived in Astorga around 2 PM and navigated through town to a highly recommended alburgue named San Javier. It was funky and hippie like but very big and comfortable and the ceilings in the sleeping quarters were enormously high with immense wooden beams embedded in stone.

It was then I began to notice my right front shin starting to sting and remembered all the other comments from pilgrims about the same thing happening to them. Perhaps it was the onset of tendinitis. I asked for some ice and sat in the courtyard awhile with it draped over my leg before taking a look around town.

The big cathedral was closed for renovation but I did sit in on a mass in the side chapel, ate a bite in the plaza and met up with Heinrich and Richard for tapas and conversation. Since Astorga is famous for its chocolate, I bought a couple of pieces of dark with nuts in one of the many confection shops throughout town and munched on them as I headed back to the alburgue.

Iced my leg a bit more and drifted off to sleep.

Day 22 June 20 Asphalt and Concrete

2009-06-24T10:57:00.001-05:00

It was a bit much navigating my way out of Leon.

I stood up from a restless night of sleep somewhere around 6 AM. I looked across the floor of the men´s quarters (it was run by nuns - no coed sleeping here) and saw Mark dressed and putting on his backpack. I motioned to him and thought that he saw me but in 10 minutes when I was on the street, I did not see he and new arrival Barbara waiting.

I looked everywhere for the yellow arrow marker but they were all ones that simply pointed back to the cathedral. I decided to wait a few minutes until someone more knowledable might walk out. Soon a group of about 5 Spaniards barreled out talking excitedly and I motioned to them that I needed help to determine which way to go. Turns out they weren´t sure either and started the humorous events of asking locals, still staggering on the streets from the festivities the night before.

Accuracy was not to be this morning´s order and simply getting out of Leon was a 45 minute jigsaw puzzle. Finally a marker that headed west appeared on a curb and I was back in business.

Today was one of those days where the pilgrim had two choices of paths. Once outside the city limits there was an unmarked turn that took you about 20 kilometers on a prettier route to a village called Mazarife. Not having a specific map other than my day by day pit-stop map given me at the start in Saint Jean Pied de Port, France, I did not know what marker to look for. The other choice was what some books described as a soul-less walk of asphalt and concrete to a 20 kilometer destination called Villadangos de Paremo. The latter was the obvious marked route and so all that morning I trekked along the interstate accompanied by big rigs and speeding Spaniards. It was certainly a stark contrast from all the other days of walking. Nothing to do but commit to the task at hand and so I thought much about the restless night prior.

As I lay in the Benedictine Alburgue last night, my mind would flash on what I thought where super-mondo profound insights and I kept standing up and writing in my journal in the dark. The writing was big scrawled cursive lines that did not seem to carry the same urgency in reading them back as they had when I felt compelled to write them down.

thoughts:
*We spend so much time attempting to avoid hell (that can describe alot of things) - don´t avoid it, make peace with it and see that it is all illusion. Avoidance is simply fear dressed up in the latest designer excuses.

*There stands one tree - the tree of expectation and it bares a single kind of fruit. Depending on the intention or belief of the individual, the fruit is either filled with the seeds of support, love and beauty or it is filled with the seeds of betrayal, sorrows and failure. However it is the same fruit and it responds to the energy of the person eating it.

The above made me think that betrayal is nothing more than illusion.

Whatever the endless stream of thought process, I had blocked out the fact that this part of the path was to be souless and arrived at Villadangos at the ripe early time of 11:30 AM. I went through the routines of washing and rested under a magnificent shade tree for most of that afternoon, making notes in my journal and succumbing to the need to nap after practically no sleep the night before. An investigative walk into this tiny town revealed a magnificent panaderia that had homemade empanadas. I bought one with carne, potatoe and vegetables inside plus a small bag of olives - set for dinner.

Even with all that time, the night seemed to fly by. The alburgue was extremely quiet, perhaps only 18 people, and even after napping in the afternoon, I fell asleep for the night by 9:00 PM. Once again, this pit-stop seemed divinely orchestrated.

Day 21 June 19 Leon - A City With Life

2009-06-21T12:06:00.001-05:00

With the talk of so much happening in Leon today, or at least rumored to be, it felt appropriate to get an early start in order take in as much of this city as possible.

Leaving at 5 AM, I was cresting the hill and viewing the city by 8:45. It took another hour to make the descent and cross town to the Benedictine Alburgue where Mark had said to stay so we could meet Barbara Oltman from Los Angeles who would begin the journey with us the following day.

You could immediately feel the difference in Leon compared to Burgos. Leon felt more relaxed, more bohemian and the storefronts and sights seem to have a more weathered but fun appeal.

The posted sign on the alburgue door said they would not open until 11 so I walked and weaved through a few alleys and streets to find a cafe to rest and have a morning coffee. Doing Cafe Americano now - no leche - in order to not make the cough and congestion worse.

Was back when the doors were to open and a small line of chatty pilgrims had gathered. Once inside, nuns and their helpers checked people in and informed us there was a 9:30 PM curfew for evening mass.

Curfew at 9:30?

Big city with lots of street activities, live music and who knows what all..... Oh, well, I´m here and I sure don´t want to take the extra time to retrace my steps back across town to the municipal alburgue which had a 24 hour open door policy.

Believe it or not - some opted for that and I remember thinking, "What, you are going to do - party all night and then walk 7 hours?" Probably - they were all in their 20´s.

Curfew, shmurfew - I´m here and I´m taking a shower.

Once out after the daily arrival routine, some of us sat in the makeshift cafes with plastic chairs that spilled out around the plaza. It was incredibly relaxing to order tapas, a drink and watch all the hustle and bustle of locals celebrating some kind of special festival day. Halfway through our food, a parade of young Spanish military marched in formation, choirs sang and everyone clapped and cheered. We had a front row plaza seat.

For this brief afternoon, there were no aches and pains, just a melting into the atmosphere of a really lovely visual of life.

When the cathedral opened again, I walked inside to the jaw-dropping wonder of its stain glass - a 365 degree display of indescribable detail and beauty. It was not the immense museum type of cathedral like in Burgos but perhaps nothing could compare to the wonder of its glass walls.

I met up with Tertius from South Africa and we ended up searching for a place to have dinner which would allow us to meet our curfew - not an easy task here in Spain, especially a big city where most restaurants do not start serving until 9:00 PM. Our dreams of something a bit more upscale and different from the same pilgrim´s menu choices where not to materialize.

We compromised and chose a kabob place (it really was the only place serving) which proved to be half way decent and sat and talked for 2 hours about life in the way that old friends do. Perhaps only on the Camino would you make a friend from clear across the world so fast, so deep. He kept saying, "Stay a few extra days so we can watch the bull fights!" Perhaps not.
He was going to stay one extra day, however, so we would probably not see each other again for the remainder of the pilgrimage.

Watching the time, we paid our bill and wandered through the streets back in the direction of the alburgue. A celtic band was playing in one of the smaller squares and they sounded glorious. Check the watch - 9:15 - listen some more - check the watch 9:25 - ahhhh, gotta go. (that other alburgue was sounding pretty good about now)

Reached the door right at 9:30 only to be ushered up the street to a church entrance and given instructions for evening mass and prayers. The sister only spoke Spanish but looked at the somewhat 55 of us to get nods of agreement and understanding. Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Once ushered in, the rest of the nuns living there, entered and sat in their respective places. Solemn, serious - the mass began and I was lost from the start. Several times I had to cough and I would try my best to stifle it until there was a unison response. It could have been worse - I could have gotten the giggles. But towards the end we sang and the whole thing felt very sweet as a younger novice spoke to us in English and then Dutch to remind us we were protected on our journey.

Marching in line back to bed, I assembled a pillow out of clothes in my bag since this was the first alburgue that did not provide one and I attempted to ignore the stuffy, warm air and block out the strains of city celebrations with my constant sleeping companion - the earplugs.

Day 20 June 18 Mañsilla

2009-06-20T10:52:00.001-05:00

Felt enourmously better. Still have the cough and the mucous but I´ll accept those anytime without the fever.

My spirits were lifted and I felt like the simple gift of having that private room to go through my physical process had re-energized my belief in my capabilities to handle this entire pilgimage. After crossing the finish line of yesterday, I knew I could continue on.

Even facing the long 26.3 kilometers destination did not seem to phase me in the same way.

By 5 AM I was tiptoeing down the stairs of the hostal (as quietly as one can tip-toe with gear, walking pole, boots) figuring out how to get out of the building (fire exit), through a back gate and onto the road. Navigated the dark with a small pin light amd found the arrows to lead me on my way.

The air was brisk and refreshing and I walked under the first blanket of stars that the weather or geographic location had permitted since starting the trail. Endless stars - and I recalled all the stories of countless famous names of history who traversed this same path - the questionably nefarious Napolean Bonaparte to the peace loving Saint Francis of Assisi.

There was nothing much of note today. The mesatas - flat landscape - was the only visual to see and in many ways it seemed perfect and synchronistic that this flat terrain gave my body a less strenuous day. I knew that in only a week I´d be back to vigorous mountain landscapes once again.

I walked and thought and sang a bit and with the exception of several amazingly large green iguana-type lizards that crossed my path, it was a day of solo reflection and giving thanks.

Arrived in Mañsilla de las Mulas by noon and checked into the busy municipal alburgue there. Seemed it was old home week with many former pilgrims meeting up at the same juncture.

The alburgue was incredibly warm and I sought a bit of relief at the local church just 200 meters short of the alburgue. Inside the air was cold and a very efficient docent looked over things and even followed me around giving me the feeling that she had had her share of miscreants.

I sat down to appease her and felt that this would simply be a quiet, cool place to kill some time. I guess the word kill was the theme here for as I looked around, there were the most gruesome crucifixion scenes in mass I think I´d ever had the displeasure of seeing. Every corner, every side. It was like sitting in the midst of widescreen misery or Crucifixion IMAX.

Hmmm - no thanks. Back outside and to the alburgue to check on the laundry hanging (instantly dry) and then some dinner. Lovely conversation with Elizabeth (mother) and Emmanuelle (daughter, 14) whose aspirations are to be the President of France. I loved the daughter´s spirit, her knowledge of world economics, language and the fact that at 14 she was walking the camino. I believe she might one day be President of France. Oh, and her mother, well she liked Brad Pitt movies.

Day 19 June 17 Fever In The Morning, Fever All Through The Night

2009-06-19T09:26:00.001-05:00

" A threat leads to nothing if it is not accepted. In fighting the good fight you should never forget that. Just as you should never never forget that both attacking and fleeing are part of the fight. What isn´t part of the fight is becoming paralyzed by fear."

Paulo Cuolho - The Pilgrimage

It felt like I was to walk the gangplank today - a walk that could very well end this journey for me. "How stupid," I thought, "to have waited all this time, come all this way, walked all these miles and have it end because of a goddamn fever!"

But walk I did. Destination Bercionos de la Camino Real - 23 kilometers. I started around 6:30 AM, fairly late given the temperatures that were to appear today.

It all feels like a blur now - days later as I enter this, I don´t remember specifics. I do remember weeping, coughing uncontrollably until I activated a gag reflex that happens with me after prolonged coughing. I would stop and throw up from the gagging and then have moments of relief only to start the process over again twenty minutes later.

I managed into the town of Shohogan and noted I was more than half way towards the days end. I rested at a bar/cafe table on the curb and drank a coca cola to try and settle my stomach. I followed that with water and more water and a banana I had wrapped in my pack.

What followed after that had to be some major intervention from angels because the path was all a blur - one long straight road with strategically planted eucalyptus trees for miles and miles. I remember giving thanks for whoever had the idea to plant the trees for it was the only source of shade but it also gave off the illusion of one of those elongated hallways that never end in cinematic dreams. I wavered back and forth like a drunkard and had a Norwegian woman ask if I was alright. In that brief encounter she mentioned she was getting a private room and bath for the night in Bercioños. That simple statement became my saving grace. Was it possible to find a private room?

Bercioños appeared and there was my choice - the arrow to the alburgue or the arrow to the hostal. I staggered over to the open doubled doors, walked into a smoky bar and witnessed two pilgrims getting a key from a man behind the long counter. I asked for the possibility of a room and was relieved to watch him reach into a weathered cigar box for the Holy Grail - a key to a private room . It was 30€, much more than I´d`paid for lodging before but getting into that room was worth a thousand times more. Taking everything off, and throwing up from the exhaustion, fever, heat and then sitting on the floor of the shower for 20 minutes while the warm water brought me back to my senses, I felt like I might just survive after all. I took a swig of the home remedy cough medicine my friend Sue Sides made for me from essential oils, rubbed some on the bottoms of my feet (per instruction) and swallowed several aspirin.

At 5 PM, I fell into one of the twin beds and instantly fell asleep.

Midnight, waking up, the bed was drenched. The fever had broken and I could tell everything would be OK. Calmed and reassured, I switched to the other twin bed and finished out the night with quiet, peaceful rest.

Day 18 June 16 You Give Me Fever

2009-06-19T08:28:00.001-05:00

Everyone seemed to start the morning with a bit of dread for the maps, guidebooks, etc made it very clear that you were in for a long 17 kilometers of nothing before the next chance to get food or water. It was surprisingly chilly leaving Carrioñ and I finally made peace with the jacket purchase from Burgos. Digging it out of the backpack and putting it on was a "pilgrim" thrill for the hours ahead of me.

It was a long and non-winding road, flat and unglamorous through plains of wheat in various stages of harvest and/or planting which I found fascinating. Given the amount of bread consumed here, it is no wonder how much of the agriculture is devoted to grain.

As I walked today I began feeling congested and started coughing as I went along. There was not much on the 17 kilometers to distract me so I made up silly rhymes in my head to pass the hours: (sung to the tune of My Favorite Things)

Fresh rolls of paper that sit by the toilet
A bottom bunk bed when I´m outstretched upon it
Ice water, oranges, coffee with zing
These are a few of my favorite things

Yes, I know, hardly spiritual but sometimes anything helps pass the time or distract my focus from the fact that my feet are burning.

Completed the 17 kilometers but that was merely a pit stop as another 10 lay ahead to Terradillos de los Templarios.

The weeks began to take their toll and I could feel fever starting to surge through my body. Without exaggeration, I felt like I had instantly fallen into a state of complete exhaustion. Normally, when feeling symptoms, we all simply stay in bed or drive ourselves home. To think that my only option was to keep walking felt psychologically overwhelming and for the first time since day one, I felt that perhaps I would have to quit. I felt shame, remorse, regret, anger, frustration, fear, unworthy all in a matter of excruciating moments and I was falling fast into a state of self-pity, the likes I´d never entertained before. Then by some miraculous force, I would step forward and then do it again and again. I remember not looking up cause I didn´t want to collapse with frustration from a visual of distance. I took my watch off and shouted to the earth, "I can do this! I can do this!"

A seeming eternity later, I stumbled into Terradillos de los Templarios with a fairly modern alburgue right on the outskirts of the town. I asked for help and mimicked the sign for fever. They gave me some alka seltzer concoction and ushered me to a bed. After a shower, I climbed into bed. Wasn´t able to do much that night but eat a little something and go back to sleep. I tossed and turned, praying the fever would break but by 6 AM the next morning, it was still there.

Day 17 June 15 In Tribute To M. Scott Peck

2009-06-18T10:08:00.001-05:00

It was to be a road less traveled kind of day - thus the M. Scott Peck reference. You were offered two choices on the way to Carrioñ de los Condes, a seemingly quicker, albeit ugly roadside route or the original trail which followed along creeks. Walking together that day, Mark and I chose the latter and had he not been a keen observer, we would have been steered away from the creek path by misleading arrows that shortchanged the route back to the highway.

So glad we walked the latter. It was a part of the original camino trek and had seen view footprints lately. Wet grasses and brush sprayed across the path and our boots became covered with dew. The creek was full of morning life with bullfrogs so loud, their croaks sounding like laughing. You could almost imagine stumbling into some kind of reptile comedy club. Perhaps their croaking was at us - walking through all this moist brush, carrying weight on our backs - while they frolicked free-style in the bug-filled water with plenty to catch for breakfast. Too, there were snails by the hundreds and you would see the occasional local out collecting them in a plastic bag or bucket. To think how much we spend on escargot......

It was beautiful - peaceful and eventually opened up to a vista complete with what looked like a miedieval church with an adjacent stone bridge.

The town was Villasurga and boasted what the locals called the church of miracles. Legends listed multiple miracles happening within the walls of this cathedral by pilgrim after pilgrim on their journeys to Santiago. Going inside, there was strange, Hindi sounding music playing but the simplicity and carvings were, as most of all of these villages churches are, quite beautiful.

Continuing on to the village of Carrioñ de los Condes, we stumbled onto a beautiful albuergue that boasted different arrangements - 4 to a room and sharing a bath. That sounded like a luxury compared to a room of 25 or even 50. It was a beuatiful saltilla tiled hacienda style building with carved wood furniture and really comfortable rooms.
Shared the room with Mark, Tirtius from South Africa and a Frenchman who spoke no English.
It all felt a bit more civilized than the wet arrival yesterday and after an afternoon nap, laundry, buying gazpacho in a carton (yum) plus fruit for the next morning, I turned in early with an incredible breeze blowing through the window.