Does energy follow intention?

Friday I had an interesting experience which seems to be the result of one of my habits. Everyday I go through lists. Not lists of things to-do but lists of things have happened. (I know that sounds unhealthy but I can go through lists: all the ties I appeared on tv. All the times I was mugged. All the times I did something I wish I hadn't done. All the things I haven't done, that I wish I'd done. etc) WHat happens when I go thorugh a list is I end up retelling the story for each item on the list. In this way I can spend hours amusing myself.

Friday I recalled all the times I found lost things, going as far back as grade school. There have also been documents I've found, including a social security card and a driver's license. In recent years I've found and returned several cell phones. I recalled each found cell-phone story in the greatest amount of detail possible.

My favorite cell phone story (the short version) goes like this. I'm walking in the middle of the street, mid-town, around dusk. I see an object in the road. I pick up a cell phone, marvel at the fact that it wasn't run over by a car, truck, or taxi. I look through the contacts and call, "Home." A woman answers on the second ring.
Me: Hi. I just found this phone and want to return it to its owner.
Woman: Where did you find it?
Me: On 25th between Park and Madison.
Lonnnggg pause.
Me: Did someone just get in trouble?
Woman: No my husband must have dropped it on his way to the gym.
I gave my work address and said the guy could pick up the phone the following day at his leisure.

As a sort of relevant side note. I was talking with my friend Lesbiana the other day. She's Latina, sort of butch and we were discussing Valentine's Day. I said I didn't think that dudes or butches should expect to get something but they should give something smallish and that's the extent of any Valentine's celebration. She agreed, saying it was a B.S. Hallmark holiday. I said, If anyone brought me f*ckin flowers that would be deal breaker. She laughed. I said, it's not funny. I hate cut flowers and anyone who gives me flowers wouldn't a know the first thing about me and I'd have to call things off.

Soooo. Back in 2005 I'm at work and the dude who is coming to pick up his cell phone is on his way to my office. I didn't expect a reward or anything. I'm on the Universal plan. I return lost cell phons, ID cards, bank cards and such bc I want to be sure that if I ever lose any of those items the person who finds them will return them, not go on a spending spree or walk off with my phone.

The dude shows up and he's holding one yellow rose. Of course he was pretty surprised by my appearance and realized he should have brought me drill bits or a philips head screw driver or something.

My assistant at the time saw the yellow rose and was like, What the f*ck is that about? (See even she'd figured out I'm not one who likes cut flowers.) I told her the story and she laughed.

And I bring all this up because on Friday after I was done writing for the night I decided that I HAD TO GO FOR A WALK. I rode the train downtown, wandered around until I decided to enter a Barnes and Noble. I read a really funny book and all that giggling did wonders for my soul. It was getting late and I realized I wanted to so I could get as much novel-writing done on Saturday as possible and decided it would be prudent to head home.

As soon as I stepped outside the B & N I had a thought. "I'm going to find something." But here's where I get confused: did I set the intention that I would find something or did I have a premonition?

I walked a bit more, entered a train station and sure enough, right there on a bench was a brand spanking new extremely fancy cell phone and no one on the platform.

I picked up the cell phone. When I got back to my neighborhood I opened up the contacts folder and picked the first name under the letter A. Luckily, Adam answered up on the second ring. I said Hi and told him I'd found the phone and could he let the person who owned the phone know and gave him my phone #.

Now here's where I give Adam a ton of credit. The dude, like the good young person that he is, sent a message via facebook and within 15 minutes the owner of the lost cell phone called me. Saturday morning I met up with her at Starbucks and returned the phone. Turns out she's from out of state and a very nice middle-aged woman. She was super-happy I returned the phone. I was just as happy to return it.

But I'm still left wondering: did I ask to find something or did I get a hit?

If I "put it out there" then I really have to work on using my skills towards attracting larger payoffs. I'm not talking about money bc I'll take a long healthy, interesting life over material wealth anyday. Actually, I'll take a long healthy life and riches.

So. Does mindset create reality or does reality inform mindset? It must be a combination of the two.

"pet" project

As a child our household didn’t have pets. Okay that’s not entirely true. My very unstable mother had a habit of buying puppies and then when she learned she couldn’t control them she’d return the slightly older puppies to the breeder and then go back to controlling my brother and me with a vengeance. One summer when I was around 7 years old I left for a month-long vacation and in that time she managed to select, purchase, and return a (barkless) Basenji. What’s curious is that she had had dogs while she was a kid so I’m not sure why her affection and skillset didn’t transfer to her adult life.

Aside from limited pets and being extremely allergic to cats, I live what can be best described as a pet-free life. That was until last Thursday when my roommate asked me if I’d make blueberry sourdough pancakes. My roommate is wise to have made this request. Whether she knows it or not, I like to try new things and pancakes are a terrific way to start (& end) any day.

Being that I’m absentminded I had to pin a huge note to the kitchen wall “start sour dough starter” or else these pancakes would never appear.

On Saturday, using a basic recipe of water, flour, and rapid rise yeast, I started my first starter. (Now that I’ve done a little research I think I want to try “capturing” wild yeast next time I head to the country.)

In any event I’ve realized that sourdough is alive (with yeast culture), and needs to be fed. Ergo sourdough is currently my “pet.” Although a pet that is eaten seems more along the lines of a crop. (Have I ever mentioned how irked I get when hunters harvest deer from my forest? It seriously pisses me of. GD poachers. Go get your own forest and stay the f*ck out of mine.) Sourdough starter could almost be likened to a producer such as hens -- they yield eggs and the chicken itself can be eaten (if you raise broilers or feel like eating spent hens). Or cows which produce milk (and if you’ve got nothing else around to eat I suppose you could slaughter your milk-cow and dine on her?). What I’ve really got is a flock of cultures at my beck and call. Does this mean that vegans don’t eat sour dough? Is sourdough is a pro-biotic? Why does every turn of my life seem to yield more questions?

I was told a long time ago by my Tibetan doctor to avoid wheat. In recent years I’ve gone on wheat-fasts but I like artisanal beer and anytime someone at work brings in baked goods I’m all over that like a third grader at a birthday party in homeroom.

I’ve noticed that with artisanal beer I’m not hungover the next day. I can knock back 6 pints in a sitting, stumble home, and wake up the following morning feeling as fresh as a daisy. (Which is totally fantastic!) On my stumble home I stop by Shade To Go and get a crepe. (It’s a wonder I’m not the size of a double wide.) When I was last in my favorite beer store I mentioned that the micro beers never leave me hungover and another patron said that true micro brews haven’t had the vitamin B killed which makes it easier to digest the beer. I don’t know if that’s true or not but it sounds good to me.

Applying beer logic to sourdough I’m hoping that the fermentation process is going to create a wonder food and I’ll shed pounds eating this yummy living wheat-mess instead of growing wider and having to let my belt out another notch.

Surrender or Embrace.

While I was visiting M in D.C. last weekend our conversations traveled a great distance and covered many topics. I did my best to be the best friend I could be and naturally I asked him if he meditated. His answer, quote, I studied meditation, end quote.

Folks, let's look at this response a little more closely.

First of all he didn't answer my question. The answer to my question was either "Yes, I meditate," or "No, I don't meditate."

In essence M answered, "No, I don't meditate." But just so I'm clear, studying meditation is perfectly all right but in order to benefit from one's studies, one must practice. I'm not kidding. As someone who comes from the Great Intellect I can tell you that unless a person sits down and begins to figure out how to clear or quiet the mind, everything is just chatter and not much progress will ever be made. Mental activity lends itself to a great many grand schemes, to manipulation, and calculation but thinking in the absence of taking action (choosing to do something differently and then actually doing something differently) with have the net result of: nothing (or put another way: will just result in more mental activity).

Even though I wasn't sure that M was ready to hear my next thoughts, I said, "Many years ago I was stuck in my head but I knew I wanted to enter my body and live a heart centered life. I used to invite myself into my body and in my head I visualized myself walkng down a steep set of stairs that lead from my head into my body." Back in 2007 this exercise was one of my daily practices. Whenever I had a free minute and remembered to invite myself to take this little walk, I pictured myself walking down those steps and entering my heart.

M seemed to like this idea but I could tell that my suggestion was probably going to spend a while in his mental process. The dude is seriously caught up in mental activity.

M's sadness reminded me of the way I felt a few years back. There's something so lonely about residing in the Great Intellect. And lately, although I'm not entirely sure how I mangaed to accomplish, I've been feeling great. It has something to do with love. Being in it and not allowing my mental process to overwhelm that experience.

I suggested to M that he might want to surrender but he didn't like that idea at all and told me so. I can almost see his point of view, but surrender when it becomes Surrender is about letting go and having the strongest faith possible and truly believing that everything will be ok. I like that I've surrendered in both the relative and Divine sense. I know that no harm can come from loving someone else and by letting a greater universal love fill me I'm protected from depression. This new love is the best feeling I've ever experienced and there is no loneliness in it.

As I write this I'm beginning to think that perhaps Surrender isn't the best possible word choice. So let's try this: Embrace. Embrace your highest good, your deepest faith, and believe that in so doing you will be loved and cared for.

Part I: Facebook friend or friend?

This past weekend I had the very good fortune to head to Washington D.C. to visit a friend I hadn’t seen in close to 25 years. After trading messages via Facebook I decided I didn’t want to be “Facebook friends,” I wanted to re-connect as friends. Add to this that I hate talking over the phone, mix in the tone of M.’s messages, and it became clear that there was no way we could have a soulful exchange via Facebook so I invited myself over to his place. I seem to have a tendency to do that lately -- but I’ll tell you the last couple of times I’ve had sleepovers with my male friends I’ve ended up having the best time. Not that I’m not looking to play house with the right woman but until she shows up what am I gonna do, sit around the house bored? Nah. A few drinks, a home cooked meal, combined with a little couch surfing and it’s all about fraternity until Miss Right makes her appearance.


Now when M. and I met waaaay back in 1984 he was a freshman at Harvard and I was a homeless gay teen. Over the past 25 years I’ve often wondered why M. was able to offer me his bed in the Freshman Quad without him in the bed. Where was he sleeping? Over the weekend I learned that he had slept with a grad student, was then stalked by said grad student, and spent the spring term hiding in another undergrad’s room, hence the vacant bed. I was quick to thank M. for giving me a place to stay and taking me to the student union for meals.

In our message exchange when M. revealed that he’d turned his entire life upside down and felt “lost” that I knew we faced a weekend of long talks. And I was proved correct on this.

M. walked away from a career and a husband and a cushy life. While M. was doing that I walked away from my job, my life in NYC of 20 years, and put 200 miles between me and my friends. I felt that I could relate to M.’s confused state but I’ve managed to get myself squared away a little sooner than M. because I ask myself a lot of questions (nightly, at 3 a.m., while I’m staring at the ceiling, wide awake) and I don’t rest until I get answers. That means I rarely rest which is not the healthiest choice but what am I gonna do? Get a lobotomy? Nah.

When I uprooted and transplanted myself it didn’t much matter to me what the naysayers were going on about. But I think M. took the criticisms aimed at him and let the barbs sink into his heart. His friends said, of his impending life changes: “You’re not getting any younger.” “You’re being self-destructive.” “You’re crazy.”

Poppycock! Is what I say. Let’s pretend that M. had forced himself to remain: in a job that he detested, a relationship that wasn’t meeting the needs of his soul, in a town where he didn’t want to live.
That trinity is the recipe for disaster.

Who in his or her right mind forces themselves to live a life they know they shouldn’t be living?
Is M. happy right now? Nope. But he’s an incredibly intelligent guy (the Harvard degree and the law degree speak to that) and I have faith in him.
We talked a lot about coming from overwhelming intellectuality (my phrase). I used to live in my head and had no idea that I would ever connect with my heart. And I can’t say that surviving a life threatening illness caused me to become more heart centered. I believe that when we explore the territory of other bodies that make up the self (the emotional body and the spirit body) it becomes impossible to avoid integrating at least some small aspect of these bodies into daily life. I have a tendency to delve a little deeper into these things that the average person but that’s because experience has shown me time and again that I will be rewarded for this sort of spelunking. I may wind up with a few bumps and bruises but I never regret shedding the intellect in favor of having a deeper emotional experience.
I wanted to say many things to M. but kept myself in check bc I haven’t seen in him in 20 years and didn’t want to come off as preachy or judgmental. But he eats way too much fruit (which is really sugar) which will make it harder for him to become grounded. I think he’s so angry about a couple of things which renders him unable to forgive and move on. He hasn’t cultivated a fine enough sense of gratitude.
Let me tell you: with gratitude you can face all of life’s challenges with a smile on your face and in your heart. Gratitude should be in your personal arsenal, along with the breath.

The improvement cutting

Just plain gorgeous.

If a photograph is worth 1,000 words the photo (see above) is about 994 words shy of keeping up.

I figure most people see: forest, land, snow, sky, stumps, and slash. (Sorry GnR fans). Slash, in this case, are the tops of trees left on the forest floor after a cutting meant to return nutrients to the soil.

I doubt Deval Patrick is in a hurry to give me an award for this improvemnt cutting but my forester (who knows a thing or two about what's going on here) was quick to praise me for my invasive species removal (last summer) and to point out what an amazing job the loggers did.

And someday (not today or tomorrow) I might become smart enough to tell you a little bit more about what's going on here. Suffice to say: this improvement cutting accomplished exactly what I wanted it to.

I got rid of acres of scrub pine that was choking the forest, thereby allowing more light in so that all the really terrific trees can grow up to be big and strong. I know full-well that I might not live to see the next scheduled harvest in 30 or 40 years. But you can be damn sure that my heirs are going to be able to cash in on a seriously healthy and beautiful forest and if I've done my job really-well, he or she (the heirs that is) will follow in my footsteps and if we keep this up, this tract of forest will remain beautiful for another 200 years or so. And in 2211 ain't nobody going to be recollecting my back-breaking summer of bittersweet removal. And that's fine by me.