This afternoon, I had the opportunity to show a "unique fixer-upper opportunity" to a potential buyer in Berwyn, the suburb just south of Oak Park. Today marks the first day of the third year of my ill-fated Realtor career. The house was a beautiful old place that's been heavily vandalized and is vastly overpriced. It will take six figures worth of renovations and in the end the place will probably be at the very top of the market if a contractor -- like the buyer this afternoon -- tried to buy it and renovate it. This would make the place VERY hard to sell, and somebody would probably have to buy it, renovate it as a labor of love, and live in it for at least five years to make it work. Banks don't want to touch the house because it's a wreck. I was totally honest with this guy and probably talked him out of making an offer on the house, because he really liked it. I walked out of the place, called my partner Jim and told him "That's it, I am just not enough of a bullshit artist to be a salesman. I quit. I simply don't know how to lie well enough to be in the sales biz, and I'm too old to change." He totally agreed, and doesn't want me to change. So now I need to find something totally else to do in my life. I feel like a HUGE weight has been lifted off my shoulders. WOO-HOO!!!!!

Hey, friends. Back from CA. Actually landed late last Friday, but it's taken me a week to really get acclimated again. Missed you guys, my family (kids, Jim, dogs) and accomplished what I set out to do: examined what was happening in my life and where to take things from here. Decided that real estate isn't where it's at for me right now, at least on a full time basis, and so I've started looking around at other options. My challenge will be to try to find a flexible income generator, preferably something that I actually enjoy doing, that still allows me to spend quality time with my kids. Tall order. I would like to try something in mediation or conflict resolution, with or without using my law license.

I promised when I went to CA that I would bring back pics of my trip. Although none of them are naked, here goes:   
This was my very favorite spot at the B&B where I stayed. virtually all day sun, right next to the hot tub. This is the spot where I have the ultimate relaxation moment from this trip that I can now envision when I meditate. Lovebirds singing in the cage right there, feeling safe in a great welcoming environment, warm sun enveloping my entire body. Bliss.

The B&B where I stayed is very conveniently located in Golden Hill in SD, and is run by an extremely cool woman who has catered to gay men (particularly bears and leathermen) for twenty years. The place is a little run down, but very reasonably priced for CA. It's just south of Balboa Park and convenient to Hillcrest and all of the local highways. My room was on the left, just off the pool and hot tub area, with private bath and a small fridge. Worked out perfectly.

There were two delicious (unfortunately straight) Italian exchange students staying at the place when I was there. They were a lot of fun to party with, and I was particularly taken with their buddy Emilio (lower left) who came by one evening to hang out and chill with us. Sweet, quiet, and fit. Yum.

On my last full day in town, I drove over to Ocean Beach and grabbed a bag lunch at a deli I knew from when I stayed there four years ago. I went up to Point Loma to enjoy the view while I ate, it's one of my favorite contemplation locations on earth. Such beauty, and a commanding view of the ocean where you can just park and enjoy relatively unscathed. On this day in particular, there was quite a bit of shirtless eye candy running along, as well, although I was respectful and refrained from taking pix (damn my polite upbringing.) 

This house is located opposite the last few pictures. For as many millions as it is worth, I can't imagine having my privacy invaded as much as the people who live here, considering they live right on Point Loma in a location where tons of people come and go constantly, day and night. The gray Mustang was my fun machine for the week, the 40% that I got off on Priceline was a great deal and made my vacation. The other pic is me taking my hostess and her niece out for dinner on my last night in appreciation for their excellent hospitality for the week -- they were very sweet.

I instinctively "sniffed" out the ocean from the airport in Long Beach after my flight home was delayed so that I could have one last relaxing, enjoyable sit. I have an inexplicable attachment to water, it has a very calming and therapeutic effect on me in my life. I was intrigued by this beautiful monastery facing the ocean there:  I walked by it on my way to say goodbye to the Pacific and couldn't help but wonder who lived inside, what their life goals might be, and why they lived in seclusion in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Like those living inside, I left CA with some new answers, and more new questions. Such is the ongoing mystery of life. My blessings are many:  love, family, home, health. The rest will come in due time if I have the patience and the wisdom to continue to do the right thing each day. So far, so good.

So I had my first "stalker" at the gym yesterday. 

I have been reflecting over the last couple of days, rolling over and over in my brain a phrase that our friend Delmarmar used in his comment last week related to my son's bar mitzvah, "everybody's hot to somebody."  I got a good chuckle out of it. Well, it got turned on its ear this week!

When I've talked about my health club, I've mentioned that it is a pretty "straight" place, for better or for worse. Well, when I went to take a shower the other day, there was a guy that I ran for the school board with coming out of one of the stalls. Just as I was about to say "Hi" to him, this BIG blonde guy barged past him and, in no uncertain terms, gave me a look that meant he was lusting after me. There was a pregnant pause, after which my friend simply walked on, no comment.

Whoops! Not good!

I went into my stall, big blondie into his. I took a LONG shower. I listened, and I started to hear the creaking of blondie's stall door, back and forth, back and forth. We were the only two in the shower room, it was mid-day. When I came out of my stall, he had this glare on that I'm sure he thought was hot, but was CREEPY, to the max. (When I say "big", BTW, I mean he had an enormous belly - just to set the record straight, or correct in this case.) I walked right past him without responding at all.

I had to shave, so I went over to my locker and got my stuff. I usually don't bother to wear a towel around my waste, but I sure did that day (I had coming out of the shower stall since I heard the creepy creaking.) I took a LONG time to shave, and positioned myself so that I couldn't see blondie standing back in the corner staring/watiing for me. For at least ten or fifteen minutes. No eye contact (I made sure.) But he just WAITED there. This was very odd, and has never happened to me before. Flattering? Not really, because it went on for almost three quarters of an hour in total, from start of shower to exit, and he didn't take a hint. More like just creepy, creepy. I don't know if I handled it right, if I should have said something or what. Eventually, I got dressed looking away from him and left, totally ignoring him (he had kept his shirt off almost the whole time, half dressed, standing in the corner of the row of lockers.) There was almost nobody around, or he would have been more self-conscious, I'd imagine. He walked out with me and we went our separate ways. Yikes.

    
 THANKS A LOT, YOU GUYS!
  

Feeling a little bit philosphical today. Perhaps looking both back and forwards, taking account of events and trying to put everything into perspective. As I mentioned in my brief note yesterday, all went very well at both the synagogue ceremony and the afterparty on Saturday for my son's bar mitzvah. (The only near-meltdown was in the car afterward when my son insisted we drive to the nearest electronics store to buy a Sony Playstation3 NOW on the way home...we didn't. He was just overworked from the day's the excitement. The next day, he maturely decided to wait for the new 120G version since the 80Gs were sold out in our area, a complete reversal!) Part of my philosophical musings have been a real appreciation for my newfound friends here on LJ. Last night, within an hour of my posting the good news that things went well, fully a dozen wellwishing pals had posted "Mazel Tovs" congratulating my son and my family and me, and again about that many have since then. I've been on this site less than six months, and after having placed myself in virtual isolation from folks in my own personal world while I cared for my family for the last couple of years, the warmth and caring that so many of you guys have shown here (especially bigfundrew, brchase, cellboy, cublikeme, delmarmar, equus_albus, everinbluejeans, houjeepx, hungcub, mrdreamjeans, msclwolf, muddster, oceanlux, randomcub, sabearfan, shirtlifterbear, spatts5, wrascalbc, and xephyr_42) has really meant a lot to me, particularly during the time leading up the events of this past weekend. Not having to go it alone (or rather with just Jim and me) made it a LOT easier going. OK, I'm not gonna get TOO sappy (oops, too late!) but I really do appreciate it.

Long and short of the events themselves:  my ex- belongs to a conservative synagogue in River Forest, IL.  Two and a HALF hour ceremony. JEEEEZ! Most of it was in Hebrew. My son KICKED BUTT in his parts, he was great and did not stumble once. I was so very, very proud of him. Interestingly, my ex- sort of ran the show, which I understand is sort of Not Done usually in her temple, but she has rather of a strong personality, so although there were some male frowns and the Rabbi seemed uncomfortable at times, Mimi was the ring leader. Lots of standing (at least the Catholics get to kneel once in a while!) and not one, not two, but THREE Torah's (the Jews among you will understand that this is exceptional.)  My son mentioned in his speech that since in Israel, you don't become a man (i.e. serve in the Army) until 20, he would see everyone back right there in seven years and faked walking off the stage. Perfect comic timing! Very funny, and particularly great for an autistic kid! The party went really well, too. There was a magician and a caricature artist (who did NOT capture Jim's handsomeness but did OK with me)  And even I must admit that the Powerpoint was well received, overall. It was bizarre and ironic having to introduce it, but I wanted my son not to have to deal with discord and so I bowed to the wishes of my ex-wife. May she rest in pieces some day (not necessarily soon, of course.) She doesn't know it yet, but we're gonna be talkin' child support reduction soon:  I think after thirty months of no reduction after I decreased my income 90%+, it's probably overdue. I wanted to get past all of this drama first.

The food was quite good, although they did run out early so that was unfortunate (not sure how that happened.) There was a full bar, although I resisted the temptation to tie one on (that's not really my style anyway, although I kinda earned it - not sure if my comments would have been better or worse.) There was an ice cream sundae bar and two kinds of great chocolate cake (both my ex- and my son are chocoholics.) Her office building is a pretty impressive brand new one, built last year near downtown Chicago and so that part worked out OK as well, although it was very much all about her, as we very much knew. Still, my son was very pleased that the DJ was a good one and he and all of his pals danced their butts off and he was, as usual, the limbo prince. There were only a few kids from the Hebrew school class that had been less than nice to him, and they were outnumbered by his classmates from his special school, so they were on their best behavior. My daughter was inexplicably quite inappropriately dressed in a low-cut turquoise evening-type gown that gave her cleavage she does not possess (apparently supplied by Kleenex) so I don't know what the hell was going on there. (My dear friend Kathy had warned me that this was going to happen - she and Mimi had conferred in advance - so at least I was forewarned but it was still rather awful.) God help me when my daughter goes through this process in November of '09. But for now, Jim and I are basking in the glow of a successful day! 

Speaking of which, off to San Diego next Monday to Friday to hang at the clothing optional B&B and check out the nekkid gay beach at LaJolla (and others at Ocean Beach and whereever else my rented convertible directs me to stop.) Anybody in the area that wants to grab a beer or a bite, or have the luxury to journey to the beach on a weekday, let me know and I'll be very happy to make plans. And again, thanks one and all for keeping me afloat! 

Not gonna belabor this one a lot because it could have been a whole lot worse. But I am thanking Jah or whomever is looking after me and feeling pretty good about always treating people with kindness and good will tonight. I decided that I would use the gas grill on my upstairs deck so the kids and I could have yummy grilled burgers for dinner. The other night, Jim and I discovered when we went to grill steak, that the electric starter was frozen. Jim does all the grilling, and I vaguely remember him saying something about using a match to get the thing going, but I didn't understand why.

I do now.

Some of you can see what's coming, but as I said the results could have been a LOT worse. I used, yes, a LIGHTER to start the damned thing. I got it going OK, but not knowing how to work it very well, I managed to adjust the flames in such a way that it went out. Oops. Momentarily. Then, I opened the damned thing up, lit the lighter, and BLAM, a HUGE ball of flame shot out. CHRIST it just about scared the hell out of me. I then smelled a most unpleasant smell. Never having smelled singed hair before, I knew not what it was. We have a bathroom on our fourth level, so I ran into it, and.....where were my eyelashes? Why was my goatee so short? My left eye was tearing, and I knew I'd burned the top of my hands, but it was not all that bad. Mostly, I was scared that my kids were going to have to see their dad go to the hospital.

But they didn't, and the end result was that I blessedly was wearing glasses and a hat, and I really only lost the tips of my eyelashes and after trimming my goatee short, I just looked a little gayer. I'll get a haircut tomorrow and my hair will be fine. My eyebrows, somehow, were almost totally spared. My left eye still tears up a little, and the burns on my hands are minimal. I turned off the grill, went downstairs and didn't even tell my kids what happened. Jim tsk-tsked a little when he got home, but was mostly relieved that I wasn't really hurt. I felt pretty foolish, particularly in light of the fact that I should bloody well have paid better attention to what he'd said a couple of nights earlier. Except that he really ALMOST ALWAYS COOKS! 

Chalk it up to Karma. Be good to people and it comes back around. I could have looked like a total asshole at my son's bar mitzvah on Saturday. Instead, I'll just look a little gayer. No harm in that, right? I figure, all things being equal, my ex-wife has that coming, anyway.

PS THE NEXT DAY:  in retrospect, it was keeping the grilltop closed, not matches v. lighter, that was the dumb thing that I did. I'm still letting Jim cook from now on.

I don't pay much attention to local high school basketball, since my alma mater is not the public high school but a Catholic (formerly boy's, now co-ed) Jesuit school in the city. (I know, I know, explains a lot, blah blah blah!) So when a bunch of boysterous boys were making much noise in the steam room of my health club late yesterday afternoon, I didn't think much of it. I had heard of Whitney Young, a city school that was well known for their team, and I secretly wished this bunch of strapping white kids luck against what I knew to be a mostly African American, highly seasoned team that night. They lost, but not by much, as it turned out (http://www.wednesdayjournalonline.com/main.asp?SectionID=7&SubSectionID=7&ArticleID=10573). What I did not expect a little later, however, after I had done my laps and taken my shower and was in the process of shaving, was for one of the better built, and as it turned out, better endowed, of those boys to flash me in the mirror, inviting me to follow him into the shower. HAH! Imagine that! As the above article explains, there are fourteen team members graduating, so there might be a percentage-wise chance that he was eighteen, I suppose. But was I gonna take that chance? NAH. Besides the fact that I am totally not attracted to younger guys (THAT young), and I would never play at the gym anyway. Still, as my Jim says when he occasionally gets hit on - online or offline, fine man that he is - it's nice to be asked. I'd like to think that keeping this kid's stuff intact helped him play better, but who knows? I do know that youngun's are getting bolder all the time. HAH!

She gets her way. For his sake. I am feeling deflated, exhausted, disgusted. I spent a long time on the phone with my son's therapist. It would seem that the spectre of my ex- and me battling over this could very easily land him in the hospital, and she will in no way budge on this PowerPoint issue. The rabbi is out of town, just my luck. I won't get into the sorts of things that she is accusing me of doing by pushing this issue and including pictures of Jim and me in the show, it's not worth it. Thank you to all of you, my excellent friends, who encouraged me and reinforced my sure knowledge that she was dead wrong on this issue. His therapist and I are crossing our fingers that nothing goes wrong a week from Saturday and that everything goes smoothly when the Powerpoint show plays. I only have half custody of my kids, and so when they go back with her on Saturday afternoon, I have no control over what she would say and do to and around my kids until when they come back to me next Wednesday. I cannot take a chance that she would push my son over the edge. She is a bitch from hell and she will surely get her due some day. Last night, I found out that JetBlue offered new fares. I bought a $225. ticket to Long Beach, CA for a Mon-Fri getaway mid-March. I am looking for a gay naturist B&B in Southern CA that is cheap, cheap, cheap. Anybody have any ideas? I just want to lie in the sun and read and write and forget that all of this horrible crap ever happened. That's it for now.

So, by way of picking up where I left off on Monday, I was concerned because there were three things that popped up simultaneously in my rather low-key existence (normally centered primarily around my kids' lives and not a great deal else lo these past couple of years, although I'm working on getting fit, branching out socially, and trying to determine if real estate really is my career of choice.) I contacted both of the women that I met over the weekend as potential new clients, but so far neither of them has responded. I'll keep at it, although there can be a fine line between bugging someone and being persistent. I also sent out 250 direct mail postcards to an area around where I grew up this week and I'm going to call the 50 or so folks that are not on the national do-not-call list of those 250 (!) next week to try to drum up some new business. Times are tough in real estate!

I had also had some contact with a handsome young 30yo guy on Bear411 who wanted to hook up with Jim and me this weekend, although as I pointed out the other day, chances were great that he would turn out to be a flake. He was. One of my friends from here is also on B411 and has been very cool about helping me keep my perspective, it is uncool to make plans and then book. But that's why I'm almost never on those systems. And the third matter was a call out of nowhere from a former business colleague, a local architect, wanting to get together for coffee. His doing so raised some red flags, since our last deal together went sour and I knew that he'd fallen on some tough times since that point. It is out of this third situation that I believe the lesson for the week was borne.

He and I got together at one of the several local Starbucks on Tuesday afternoon. He was characteristically late, which is not a really big deal because I can be a few minutes late on occasion myself. We had a wideranging conversation over more than an hour's time, and it turned out that he really just wanted to re-establish the possibility of doing business together. This was necessary, because the developer with whom he'd allied himself six years or so previously had turned out to be a real slimebag, and had brought him way down into the gutter until they had parted ways. Now, he has to more or less start over again, explaining that he knows that his rep has suffered and he is working to make things better. Smart. We can probably do business again. In the end, it turned out that the real reason we got together was that he gave me the name of a really good personal injury attorney.

Huh?

I had surgery about 18 months ago on my back. Long and short, it was the result of some physical therapy I undertook at Oak Park Hospital. The more they put me into traction to fix the lower back issues I had for twenty years, the more my upper back hurt. I had to have surgery to consolidate three discs in my upper back later that year, and while I was in the hospital, I had five blood clots on my lungs and almost kicked. I had initially decided not to sue the hospital, despite the six months of enormous pain I had gone through. Lately, however, I've been having second thoughts. Then, last night, when I was about to cuddle with my daughter as I do each night before she sleeps, I went to sit on her bed and I bounced up a little and hit the exact spot on my upper back on the lower part of the upper bunk where the surgery was done. That action sent radiating pain all through my body and it continues, I've been in severe pain ever since. Is someone up there telling me to go ahead and file suit just hours after I got the name of this big shot attorney? Does God waste actions like that? I'm not sure she does. I am a strong believer in fate, and in signs. What do you think?

This is my third and final post for this emotionally exhausting day. As I stated in the other two, it is the third of three posts that I am firing off today after a series of rapid-fire events that occurred in a 24-hour period starting on Sunday 1/27/08. Feel free, this being America and LiveJournal being what it is, to read this before during or after the other two, but they were written so that the sequence would be “Death”, “Life” then “Posterity”. No, I’m not kidding.

The thoughts I would like to explore here center around the question:  for what do you want to be remembered when you are gone from this life?  This post will not be as long as involved as the other two I have put together today, partially because I’m tired and partially because I don’t have as much to say on this topic because I’ve not explored it very much in my own life as of yet, although the last 24 hours compelled me to consider it carefully.

One of the things that kept going through my head at the funeral I attended this morning was, "There are SO few people here." Maybe 25-30 people: one of his two brothers, two nephews, a few high school pals, my mom, two of my sisters and myself, my uncle. Most of the attendees were quite elderly. Somebody made a joke before the service started that the obituaries are the Catholic sports pages:  the deceased went to a Jesuit high school, and many of those there went there with him. At age 79, a similarly morbid joke goes, everybody first opens up their morning paper to the obituaries first to make sure they're not in them. The parish priest had never met him and gave the typical “I never met the deceased but I’ve talked to the family over the last few days” homily. My dad’s absentee eulogy was the only one given. The service lasted about a half hour.

Even his other brother, a wealthy attorney and the father of the two nephews, had come into town the previous week to say goodbye at the hospital and then didn’t bother to come back in for the service. My late aunt and my grandfather each had standing room only at their funerals, between 300 and 400 persons – not that the measure of a person is necessarily the number of people at their funeral, but still, doesn’t one want to leave an imprint behind? Then again, my dad mentioned in his eulogy that he had an entire stack of manuscripts that his friend had written, and that although he had not read all of them, some of them were “pretty out there.”  He also said that he was never sure if his friend had any desire to be published, and didn’t think he’d ever had any success in that regard. I wonder what he wrote, and if there might still be an imprint evident there?

I was watching one of my absolute favorites, the Henry Rollins Show on the Independent Film Channel, last night and it was a rerun from last August. Gore Vidal was the guest. Rollins is so damn desperately HOT and smart and his show is the best (where else can you see a short piece of Janeane Garofolo imploring folks to get involved in American political life?) Vidal, as always, was controversial and way out there. What was particularly wonderful was that he is one of Rollins’ heroes, and Henry’s reaction to some of Vidal’s more outrageous statements about Bush and topics like impeachment, the war, corporations, and such, was guffawing, oopsing, even – believe it or not – giggling once or twice. Classic. Adorable. Not to be missed.

But the most valuable part of the show for me was when Vidal talked about the basic corruption of the national media, their unwillingness to take on the Administration, and the consequent obligation of what he called “writers for life” like himself to rage against the machine and speak truth to power in every way possible throughout their lives. This concept hit home for me in a very fundamental way, and speaks directly to where I’m trying to move in my life toward being able to much more expansively use my talents. Ideally, I’d like to be able to find a great-paying job that I love where I could write a lot and help people, perhaps even as an attorney since I have my license. I’d have to figure out how to do that and still be there for my kids every day as I have been since I quit the 9-to-5 rat race -- a very, very difficult balance to strike. This is what I was concerned about in the second, “Life” post. We’ll see what sort of compromise can be reached until they are old enough to fly on their own. For now, I am going a little (a lot) stir crazy just being home.

What about so far in my life? I have two wonderful children that I've worked extremely hard to nurture into caring, loving humans. My son's illness, despite his recent hospitalization, is largely in check. My daughter has some challenges, she seeks attention in reaction to her brother's illness too much and sometimes in odd ways -- I just got a call from my ex-wife that she insisted on going to middle school on crutches this morning after bumping her leg on the side of the pool at her swim team practice yesterday. Drama, drama, drama. I will probably have to head over to her school in a minute, one of the reasons why I'm home. I was the first openly gay father elected to the Oak Park Elementary School Board. I have served on several volunteer boards and done some other exemplary things, mostly politically, in the past. But my mark on the world, at 48, is so far minimal compared to what I’d like to do during what I hope is the next half of my life. This is the dilemma with which I now struggle.

And what of the other folks about whom I have written today? Our late bear LJ colleague? My grandfather, who helped to start the first Italian old persons home and who touched thousands of persons with his volunteer work and by never saying no to anyone who ever asked him for help? The ninety-year-old birthday girl yesterday who had a room full of loving persons who were celebrating her continuing life and wishing her well as she shares her joy with them? Jim’s mom, whose pain continues and might diminish but might become worse and whose loved ones suffer right alongside because of her poor health at age eighty? When is the life she has lived sufficient and when is the time right to say “goodbye?” My dad's lonely deceased drunken friend? Did or have their legacies reached their expectations, much less anyone else's? Or does it matter what anyone else thinks, only oneself?

This is the second in a series of three posts that I am firing off today after a series of rapid-fire events that occurred in a 24-hour period starting during the morning on Sunday, 1/27/08. Feel free, this being America and LiveJournal being what it is, to read this before during or after the other two, but they were written so that the sequence would be “Death”, “Life” then “Posterity”.  Really.

Jim and I attended a 90^th birthday party for his Aunt’s mother yesterday at a nice country club restaurant out in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. She is a sweet old lady, one of those nice older people that you notice and think they must smile a lot because their wrinkles form smile lines. She went from table to table at one point, and when she and I were talking, she said to me, “You know, if I thought that I were going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.” I said, “Hey, that’s my line from when my Grandpa passed away when he was 97, I kept saying that if I thought I might live as long as he did, I’d have already been taking better care of myself.” She laughed. But actually, with all the hard partying I did when I was younger, the drugs, smoking and everything else, she had no idea how serious I actually was being. Oh, well, she was very sweet.

At one point during the party, I looked around at the room filled with people, there were probably seventy-five people, if not more, celebrating there. The birthday girl was having a ball and there were a not only her kids, and grandkids, but even of a few of her great grand-kids present. I couldn’t help thinking that all the love in that room was very touching, and the cute blonde twink brother eye candy were just icing on the proverbial birthday cake. As we got ready to go and visit Jim’s mom at the hospital, we bid our good-byes and paid our respects. When we were driving to the hospital, I thought a lot about my grandfather, who passed away almost eight years ago. He taught me what turned out to be the central driving force in my life as well as the theme reflected in that day’s festivities:  family was the most important thing in the world to him, and he lived for us. We in turn adored him, and all of us, my four sisters and me, have made major decisions in our lives based on his example of service to others, generosity and, again, family first. Quality of life is the key, and both he and the birthday girl had and have it. I miss him every single day.

After the visit to the hospital and the dinner and visit to my sister-in-laws discussed elsewhere, I found the following passage when I friended a new individual here on LJ. I hope that person will not mind my sharing this information, since it plainly and simply blew me away – mostly in a good way, except for a few lines. His recommendation was that people take the interesting advice given here and “heal themselves” in their lives:

“In the infinity of life where I am,
all is perfect, whole and complete.
I live in harmony and balance with everyone I know.
DEEP AT THE CENTER OF MY BEING THERE IS AN INFINITY WELL OF LOVE.
I now allow this love to flow to the surface.
It fills my heart, my body, my mind, my consciousness,
my very being, and radiates out from me in all directions and returns to me multiplied.
The more love I use and give, the more I have to give.
The supply is endless.
The use of love makes me feel good;
it is an expression of my inner joy. I love myself;
therefore I take loving care of my body.
I lovingly feed it nourishing foods and beverages,
I lovingly groom it and dress it, and my body lovingly responds to me with vibrant health and energy.
I love myself; therefore, I provide for myself a comfortable home, one that fills all my needs and is a pleasure to be in. I fill the rooms with the vibration of love so that all who enter, myself included, will feel this love and be nourished by it.
I love myself; therefore, I work at a job I truly enjoy doing, one that uses my creative talents and abilities, working with and for people I love and who love me,
and earning a good income.
I love myself; therefore, I behave and think in a loving way to all people for I know that which I give out returns to me multiplied.
I only attract loving people in my world,
for they are a mirror of what I am.
I LOVE MYSELF; THEREFORE, I FORGIVE AND TOTALLY RELEASE THE PAST AND ALL PAST EXPERIENCES, AND I AM FREE.
I LOVE MYSELF; THEREFORE I LIVE TOTALLY IN THE NOW,
EXPERIENCING EACH MOMENT AS GOOD AND KNOWING THAT MY FUTURE IS BRIGHT AND JOYOUS AND SECURE, FOR I AM A BELOVED CHILD OF THE UNIVERSE, AND THE UNIVERSE LOVINGLY TAKES CARE OF ME NOW AND FOREVER MORE.
ALL IS WELL IN MY WORLD.”

I think that there are a lot of important truths contained in this piece, and truly everyone should try very hard to closely look at it to compare what they do in their lives in order to see what they might do in order to make themselves and those around them happier and more fulfilled.  But there are two parts of this very fascinating piece that I find personally difficult, for very different reasons. The first is closer to the end, and the one that is surely harder for the general population, myself included:  “I love myself and therefore I love totally in the now, experiencing each moment as good and knowing that my future is bright and joyous and secure…” Ah, if only it were so simple.  Not dwelling on the past, not worrying about the future, just living in the now. What an enormous luxury it would be if one could actually figure out how to live this way. The concept merits thought.

The other portion of this piece that hit me harder (as in right between the eyes) was the job-related one:  “I love myself; therefore, I work at a job I truly enjoy doing, one that uses my creative talents and abilities, working with and for people I love and who love me, and earning a good income.” AAARGH! A direct hit where I’ve been living for the last twelve years. I gave up my dream job on Capitol Hill in Washington that long ago to be home for my kids and to be a “present” father, unlike my own. And then I gave up my well-paying, unhappy secure one to be home with my ill son and vulnerable daughter 28 months ago, not making as successful of a living at real estate as I had hoped. Who is to say that everyone can fulfill the ideal described in this sentence, even if one wants to do so? How many persons actually have the ability to do so in their lives, percentage-wise?

Again it comes down to quality of life, and choices we make. How many of them are our own, and how many depend on life circumstances that are simply beyond our control? How many parts of our lives can we truly change, and how many must we just accept? I'm not necessarily expecting answers to these questions from anyone who is reading them, but I feel the need to ask them to myself.