Archive for October, 2009
Truth and Hope
What is truth? This question over the ages has been mired with such complexities. Why? I can’t really say. I prefer to strip away the layers to find the essence of most things–that’s just me. I prefer to define truth with four simple words:
is, or is not. This is truth.
Truth is neutral. It’s neither good nor bad–it just is. And wishing or wanting changes nothing. But then again…
Many time we wish we could change the truth. We fanaticize, we dream and, well, we should do those things. After all, what is true today could inspire change. This is hope. Hope should always follow the truth or what is true today will always be a matter of fact.
Hope inspires our actions to change what is true in our present moment. We want to cure a disease, we want peace, we want good to prevail. Yes, we have cured some diseases, we have witnessed some peace, and most would agree that good should always trump evil. But today, the truth of the matter is that diseases are replaced with new strains, there is a segment of people who are evil, and we witness what is truly bad choking was it truly good. In the midst of truth, we must have hope.
Without hope, truth will always be what is, is.
Posted on Sunday, October 18th, 2009 | No Comments »
“Just begin–one, one, one.”
My Mom taught me compassion. I’m sure yours did too. It wasn’t just what she said, but it was what she did. In her small way she responded to the pain of others and understood their disappointments. She saw disappointments and struggles growing up during the Great Depression. She saw hardships and knew that, for the most part, everyone tried their best–then and now, but that we all don’t come from the same place and we all don’t have the same opportunities. We just don’t. Some of us get a head start. I know I did.
Mom showed me in real ways her empathy and compassion for people she didn’t know. She helped Native Americans as they suffered at the hands of injustice. Mom hasn’t a drop of American Indian blood in her, be she felt the bloodstream of their lives drain from what was rightfully their legacy. She opened her heart to attempt to feel an ounce of their pain. As she did, so did I.
If we can step away from that arrogant layer of ego we all have, and judge no one, we may begin to feel the pain and the joy of someone else. We may choose to help instead of fortifying the barricades that we hide behind as we blame others for all our ills. We all need a little help from time to time–you’ve needed some help.
When asked about compassion, Mother Teresa said, “…I can only love one person at a time–just one, one, one. So you begin. I begin–I pick up one person. Maybe if I didn’t pick up that one person, I wouldn’t have picked up forty-two thousand… . The same thing in your church, your community. Just begin–one, one, one.”
The Dalai Lama brings it home in a real personal way when he says, “If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.”
Posted on Sunday, October 11th, 2009 | No Comments »
Saying Little Says A Lot
Once said, it’s difficult taking back.I fail, but I remind myself that it is a virtue to say little. But there are times in which it is appropriate to speak. Those are the times we need to express gentle words that are sincere and from the heart. Of course, we should be truthful but that does not exclude being truthful with kindness. It is when we allow our ego to consume us and ultimately speak for us, we run into trouble.
Perhaps, instead of ego, our words are propelled by ignorance or without thinking. Regardless of its origin, if we learn from our ways and offer an apology, we may humbly step back onto the right path and we may continue our journey.
Posted on Saturday, October 10th, 2009 | No Comments »
To Be Human is to Be Spiritual
Yesterday in Parade Magazine, there was a report of a lengthy survey on religion and spirituality written by Christine Wicker. The long and short of the article is that we, as a nation, are considering ourselves as more spiritual than ever before. I go a step further, although I don’t have statistics to prove it. That is, we have always been spiritual. That’s why I started to write my book Zen Master Next Door nearly five years ago.In our huge world, we are all connected. Everything and everybody’s actions impact everyone else. Just think about it. We cannot survive without others, or without what grows on the earth, or the water that refreshes us, or the warmth of the sun–or a fire. If we made more time to listen to others, no matter who they are, and listen to ourselves, we might learn something. If we made time to see how this world works and how it is aligned with our Creator, we might make better decisions. Religion is good, but spirituality takes us further.
The short stories in Zen Master Next Door are about you and me in our everyday life trying to make the best decisions we know how. Slowing our pace, putting the blackberry down and listening to what a child has to say, could really be enlightening. Just think if we could see God in different ways–hearing Him in voices of those we meet and in the breeze wafting through the boughs of a tree.
But, today, the frenetic pace we seem to have accepted creates our largest barrier in our spiritual life. Our material “needs” are a giant step backward in our quest to learn about ourselves, our fellow man and our God.
To be human is to be spiritual, and I’m joyful more of us are recognizing what we already possess.
Check out Zen Master Next Door at http://www.edwardgkardos.com/
Posted on Monday, October 5th, 2009 | No Comments »
The “New” Fifty
You’ve heard people say that fifty is the new forty. Wrong. Fifty is the new fifty.
I celebrated my fiftieth birthday in August and nothing happened. Nothing at all. I was the same guy the day before as I was on my birthday, and finding out that things are going well six weeks later. I got to thinking about it, and it dawned on me that I felt, and still feel, the same as I did twenty years earlier — so is fifty, for me, the new thirty? Not really. As a matter of fact I feel and think “better” than I did way back when. Heck, I was too skinny and my nose looked even bigger then.
One thing is now very different for me. It is very liberating to say that I’m fifty. What gives me this sense of freedom? I’ve been around the block, as they say, but feel pretty relevant. I’m healthy and in good shape. I’m physically and mentally more active today then I was a few years back. I think I am beginning to understand that with my gray hair, I’m getting something that is known as “wisdom”. I’m not a soothsayer, but when I think about it, I’m a lot smarter–and kinder. We don’t use the word “wisdom” very much anymore, but I think I’m getting it and look forward to being the recipient of more.
I’ve experienced some wonderful goings-on in my life–some really beautiful happening. Events and activities I will honor and cherish forever. On the flip side, I’ve been humiliated and degraded by some, but haven’t we all? The wisdom comes when you can sort it all out, make sense of it, and see yourself for what you truly are. Taking time to put it all in perspective and being committed to what you think is most important is a step to wisdom. I’m looking forward to seeing where I’m headed with all this.
When you can look inside and you like what you see, that is all part of the journey.
Hey, I think fifty is the NEW fifty.
Posted on Sunday, October 4th, 2009 | No Comments »
I Miss My Cub Scout
It was one of those rare times when I was home alone on a Saturday. It was quiet, and I was busy with the mundane when I heard the door bell ring. There standing in front of me, all four feet and one inch, was a cub scout with collar flipped up and cap cocked to one side. His mom was at the curb. With great verve and ten year old inflection, he mustered his sales pitch with some long distance coaching from the curb.
I looked into his eyes, and I listened to what he said, and I responded, “sure” as I bought some “original caramel corn ” for this pack fund-raiser.
His sale had nothing to do with the great taste of caramel corn, but all to do with this little fella. See, I have a twenty year old son in college. Ten years ago, it was my son who had to gather his nerve and ring the doorbell while I stood, with fingers crossed, at the curb.
How ten years goes so fast.
I, then, told this young scout to tie his shoe lace and to watch his step down our steep front steps and closed the front door. An immediate rush of emotion enveloped me. I had lonely and distant feeling and I didn’t like it. I missed my son. So, at onec, I called his cell phone as he was nearly two hundred miles away at school only to hear his recoreded message. Although I wanted to talk with him, I liked hearing his voice.
I miss my son. I miss my cub scout.
Posted on Saturday, October 3rd, 2009 | No Comments »