So on Thanksgiving Day, we are reminded that so much has been given to us–our blessings. So much, as well, has been given to us just because of where we were born. When you think of it, our prosperity was built upon generations of hard work and, sometimes, on the backs of others. But we sometime forget something that prosperity is not what we own, bequeathed or earned.  Prosperity is what we give away. We are prosperous when we make more room, say in our wallet, our house and our heart, and give. When we do, we always find that something greater fills that void.

Happy Thanksgiving

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.

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.”

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.

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/

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.

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.

But I know something, and they know it too. That is, if they take a moment to think, they would realize that the obvious is frequently overlooked for some grander way. It’s like air. We don’t give it a second thought until we gasp for it when we have little warning of losing it.

Paraphrasing a Zen parable I read in Wayne Dyer’s latest book, Excuses Begone!, a wise monk called Birdnest, because of his fondness of meditating in trees, was visited by a governor of the province. He wearily traveled three days to ask his burning question. When the governor approached the monk, perched in a tree, he called up and asked, “Can you tell me the most important thing the Buddha ever said?” After a deliberate pause, the monk answered, “Don’t do bad things; always do good things!” The governor was agitated and angrily responded, ” I knew that when I was three years old!”

Birdnest concluded by saying “Yes, the three year old knows it, but the eighty-year-old still finds it very difficult to do!”

Take the high road.

Leave the low road to those at ease in the cold, dark muck below. It’s a self serving and fruitless journey. Some frequently travel there. This path renders lasting feelings–and it, too, builds upon itself.

I was overwhelmed–truly I was.

Coelho has authored numerous books, but the one that captured my heart was The Alchemist. It was given to me by a dear friend who felt it to be important for me to read. Now, I recommend it to all. It is a story of believing in yourself and following your dream.

Last December Coelho responded to an e-mail message I sent him. With his reply he sent me a copy of a story that he wrote that was published in many journals around the world. I was overwhlemed at his gift to me. His generous action and the simplicity, and power, of his story inspired me to write, Blessing the Poor.  My holiday story may be found on my December 2008 blog. The book given to me by my friend years ago, and Coelho’s recent act, are testaments of why I believe the way I do; we must take time and value each moment of our life. But then, we need to do more–to inspire others to reach for what is good. Not only should we dream, and we should dream,  but it is what we do with our experiences that counts.

In his message of two days ago, Coelho ended by telling me, “The Warrior of light concentrates on the small miracles of daily life.”

Truth is truth.