END OF RELATIONSHIP LETTER FROM MANY YEARS AGO

(going thru my old Win 95 C-drive- found this letter. I like some of the things I said)

______,

I can only imagine how difficult yesterday might have been.

I hope you do not view pain or sadness as a sign of failure. On the contrary, it is a part of yours and my healing.

While my healing will continue (sometimes VERY difficult, sometimes fun), I wanted to let you know that I forgive you. I absolutely release you from all “wrongdoing.” My home and your home is in God. We are eternal. If I imagine someone truly has the power to take something from me, that is my ego ignoring God--ignoring my birthright to love and joy.

I recognize that you have allowed me to learn a painful lesson that I had no choice but to face in this life. The lesson of self-love: understanding how to balance my needs while loving others is my single most important lesson. No doubt about it.

You were there for me, allowing this lesson to be learned. Not that I am perfect in this learning, but I am making progress. Sometimes I slip into the hellacious stories I tell myself… “I have always been picked on. All of my relationships have been about saving people. My family is my hell. My family is in hell. Those I care about are in hell. There is too much suffering. Happiness is obviously not for me. I have been forgotten by the Universe.”

Truly, these are thoughts that I am working on releasing. We are not so different.

I know that if I allow myself to stay in that mental space, I will be bringing those types of situations (loss, suffering) into my life. MORE OF THEM!

I had these kinds of thoughts before we met, so it is not your fault. It is a part of my learning. I accept the learning now, even though it is very challenging. But I love the feeling of freedom… when I am feeling happy and having good thoughts--that each day is new and the future is open. I feel good because I know I am bringing more happy things to me in the future.

In my life so far, my unhealed fearful thoughts have perpetuated pain, feelings of isolation and feelings of being abandoned by God.

Now that I am becoming more conscious, as you are, I am able to relearn (in baby-steps) how to create a different life. New kinds of days and mornings and evenings. New people and new energy and new everything.

What about people who are suffering? What about the people I would have previously joined in sadness and fear? I now understand that entering into that energetic space does not help them. It hurts them. It does not help me. It disempowers me. I become a “believer” in an imagined Universe ruled by fear and despair. I become a prop in their play about meaninglessness and lonliness

I am not here to suffer. Neither are you. And I am done participating in roles where I reflect to others the pain in the world. I am done being hypnotized by the appearance of pain and suffering and beginning to see through to the beauty of it all.

I now quit blaming God, quit blaming you or my sister. I see my parents and you and everyone as perfect. I am learning to recognize perfection. I still slip and get angry about my family situation or the pain I must watch others endure or stuff that happened between you and I, but in the long run, I am excited about small positive changes I am creating by seeing things differently.

Thank you for playing an important role in my healing and my soul-growth.

Yes, if I allow my old thoughts to run their course, and focus on the negative things that happened when we were together, I find myself in that familiar hell-place, where I am angry, and feeling victimized and powerless. But I am learning to recognize that feeling before it really takes over.

I know that when I am in anger, I have lost the key. This is when I must take the time to breathe, and do whatever is necessary to redirect my energy. My anger and suffering is how I have abandoned my power and my self. I have traded God and the possibility of beautiful changes for a familiar place: the feeling of being a powerless and unable to responsibility for my actions or my life. I am quite an expert as this useless technique!

But this is something I no longer pursue and perfect. This kind of thinking has created blindness and depression and enough anger to level a mountain. “Suffering eventually loses it’s charm,” as a wise man once said.

We experienced many beautiful times together, and it is those moments I will recall when I think of you. If you reject a higher path, and choose thoughts of powerlessness and loss, I will be here thinking about the hikes and laughing with Becker and the music. If you choose the work of healing, leave the suffering behind, and remain committed to living clean, I will be here encouraging you in spirit, and remembering the goodness of our coming together.

I see you. You are beautiful like me. I know your innocent heart and your talents and your kindness and your hope and belief that the world can live in love.

I am sorry that moving forward feels impossible sometimes. Spiritual work is sometimes the hardest work. It still hurts parts of me to know good people like yourself suffer (I usually forget about me!). It still feels uncomfortable to realize innocent people must walk alone through their darkest nights, when it seems there is no light. I hate it, actually. So that’s where I have work to do … trusting the Universe. My work :)

My prayers are that you find peace and know the God-ness and perfection in you that I have witnessed and we have celebrated. Wish me luck on my own path! I know that if I am not remembering you with a smile, then that’s where I need to do more work on myself. The same way for my family.

You are free to be beautiful and sad, and you are free to be beautiful and joyous.

I Hold Your Hand.

Totem Lake Fred Meyer - Kroger - I-wireless unfair policies and deceptive marketing.

(OPINION)

Never posted online about a consumer issue until now: Just got back from vacation.... Find that new cell plan via Fred Meyer drops out on calls to parents in OR, best friend 20 min away, and even local Fred Meyer store! Calls drop!! Totem Lake, WA Fred Meyer manager says if customer has used ph more than 10 min, there is no refund/ no return. I was in Packwood, WA for first 3-days!

1) The other day, the auto-dial to hear voicemail dropped. Was not able to hear voice mail, although I am prompted to listen to it!

2) No response from Fred Meyer… so I purchase a ph and plan via Target. Samsung cell and AT&T “GO Phone.” In order to activate the ph, customer must call in from another ph… so I use the I-wireless ph. I am talking to the AT&T rep and we are getting somewhere, then the ph line drops. Wow.

3) How is anyone supposed to evaluate an entire cell network using only 10 minutes of ph time?

If a customer is aware that reception is good / bad with specific carriers, that won’t help. Take a close look at the package and fine print… no information about carrier. It’s not there.

(Maybe because it is Sprint?)

If you ask a Fred Meyer employee which carrier Kroger affiliated I-wireless uses, they do not know.

I go to Iwireless.com and see a T-Mobil icon at the VERY TOP OF MAIN PAGE. They really thought this one out. They got me!

I know that T-mobil service is good in this area. I know Sprint is unusable in this area.

Anyway, I buy the I-wireless cell / plan. After I have made the purchase and realize it sucks, I speak with the manager (after first call drops) and he says, “Oh yeah, I-wireless is Sprint.”

Where do customers needs come into this program? Who thought this plan up? Who is the buyer at Kroger who decided this will make the company money AND provide honest service to Kroger / Fred Meyer customers?

Long time Fred Meyer fan…. This is similar to bait and switch. This is clearly a case of unfair policies and deceptive marketing.

I LOVE MARYANN MUNROE

I want to find lovers in the tall trees we pass under. I want to live in your breath and spend days in your kisses. Together, we will fly warm night skies and chase the setting sun.

As I share stories of my heart, we will cruise unchartered galaxies and laugh about France and Earth, and the time we first met.

Again.

We will explore the sun and rain and clouds of far away planets.

You are my dance, and my flight. You are the wings I have waited for.

If love is real, then God is real, and my next ten lives will be lived with you.

THAT FAR GONE (Love Survivalist)

Did you know about my “out clause?”

Did you know that I can disappear faster than a fucking rabbit?

Did you know that I can be so far gone that you won’t even be able to figure out if I was real or a dream?

Did you know that I am scarce? That I hide? That I am wanted? That you are lucky?

No.

You didn’t.

Which is why, at any moment, if you say the wrong thing, or imply the wrong thought, or look at me wrong way, I will motherfucking leave you in the motherfucking dust.

Forget me.

YOU WILL EAT MY DUST SO FAST, YOU WON'T HAVE TIME TO UTTER MY NAME.

You will know your choices:

Think about me

Or breathe.

Yes.

I will be that far gone.

1/23/01

.............................................................................

Did you know about my “out clause?”

No, tell me.

Did you know that I can disappear faster than a fucking rabbit?

I am fast. I am an eagle. I will come find you. I will scour the earth.

Did you know that I can be so far gone that you won’t even be able to figure out if I was real or a dream?

I could never forget you.

Did you know that I am scarce? Yes. That I hide? Yes. That I am wanted? Yes. That you are lucky? Yes.

No.

You didn’t.

But now I do.

Which is why, at any moment, if you say the wrong thing, or imply the wrong thought, or look at me wrong way, I will motherfucking leave you in the motherfucking dust.

I won't then. I will just tell you I love you over and over again. Even when the words sound different, it will still be I love you.

Forget me.

Never.

YOU WILL EAT MY DUST SO FAST, YOU WON'T HAVE TIME TO UTTER MY NAME.

I will eat anything you ask me to. And I will not utter your name. I will shout it to the heavens or to hell until you return.

You will know your choices:

Think about me

Or breathe.

I will think about you. Death does not scare me.

Yes.

I will be that far gone.

You live in my heart. How could I ever lose you?

PAWN SHOP

“What could I get for this?” I asked between breaths as I finally laid 150 pounds of myself on the counter.

It felt so ordinary to look down at me--the part of me that wasn’t going to make it . The eyes were shut, and my body lay awkward and motionless, like a bird stunned after hitting a sliding glass door.

The blend of cinnamon, Pine-Sol and cigarettes invaded my lungs. A cracked glass display case protected guns and pearl necklaces from the Pawn shop customers. CD’s of Sonny & Cher, “accordion favorites,” and a selection of movie soundtracks, dusty, were stacked on nearby shelves. An ancient green telephone seemed to glare at me from its dis-guarded and forgotten home, oddly placed in the company of fine crystal.

A broken yellow Miller Beer chandelier, repaired with the unsubtle use of duct tape, gave soft gold light to a stringless guitar, one oar, and an electric typewriter with a note “power cord missing.” An AM/FM portable cassette player was marked “No AM. No cassette.” My eyes were drawn back to the useless green telephone, unable to shake the feeling that it was taunting me.

“Where is that thing?” the store owner mumbled to himself as he pawed through a drawer of wires and cloudy sandwich bags full of screws. His face had been shaped by years of examining wedding jewelry and family keepsakes, while keeping himself at arms length from the broken lives and frantic last grasps at hope of the poor souls who surrendered their treasures.

“Here we go.” A hand emerged with a silver and black stethoscope.

“Original owner?" he said more as a statement than a question, never really looking at me.

“Yes,” I replied.

He plugged the black rubber ends of the stethoscope into his ears, and with the robotic movements of a morgue technician, placed the cold instrument to the chest of my haggard body on the table. I held my own breath while he listened, my gut tightening into a knot as the inevitable pawn negotiations began.

Where was I? a part of me wondered. And if I was laying in front of me, then who was the person still standing, hoping, praying for a miracle? Was all of this a twisted dream that I would soon wake from? I was startled from my thoughts as the store owner gasped, “Geeez!” He flinched. "You got some big miles on this young pup!” he declared. Before I could gather an explanation, he cut in, “What do you want for it?” I felt weak and small.

From an open back office, ancient posters of naked woman caressing power tools stared in hollow silence. A message of danger from somewhere inside me flapped its wings like a crazy bird. It was a feeling of anxiety that I knew well. It was a feeling I had always heeded. The man leaned toward me, “What...do... you...,” then whispering, “want for it?”

My heart was pounding. Adrenaline ushered me far from my body, far from this broker of the broken. Numb, I told myself to just speak the words. If I could just breathe! I was certain I was choking as air refused to enter my lungs. “I...” pushing my courage forward from that deep place inside me that still believed, “I’ll trade him,” I placed a hand on his/my bony and withered shoulder with great care, “for her soft kisses, and the sweetest eyes, and a smile..." I paused, even though I knew the words, words that had come from my Soul. I wanted them to sound to this man they way they did in my own ears, "and a smile that speaks of love,” I feel myself, my entire being, spilling everywhere as I now, in shock, am barely able to stand.

“For THIS?” he almost shouted. He patted the lifeless chest too roughly while noticing a new customer bringing in a stereo speaker.

“This body could spend a full day just holding hands,” I broadcasted to several customers, feeling bold for the first time. It was too late to turn back.

“Dear me, yes! Everyone wants a hand-holder!” he mocked. His serrated words entered my abdomen with a smooth swirling motion. His steel eyes entered mine. “Phone rings of the hook for a man who can hold hands for a full day!" he laughed almost coldly.

The false smile left his face and with one greasy index-finger pointing to the body, he said, “So are you going to stand here and tell me that you’ve never had a problem here? Please! I’m going to take a look at this gentleman’s stereo.” He greeted the new customer at the other end of the counter and continued with his life of determining the value of the world, of executing fate.

With care, I lifted and cradled the body in my arms and turned to leave.“Have you tried the classifieds?" I hear his voice call out from behind me. "No one’s going to give you a trade for that thing. ” A lady who had been sweeping opened the door for me, but her eyes would not meet mine. I balanced the weight as I re-entered the busy world.

People stared, thinking there was something wrong. Others looked away out of respect, I think. I walked almost blindly, my own eyes downcast.

Even out on the street, at any moment, I knew she might find me. I could taste her, as though somewhere before all of this, we had danced between orange-red skies and restless oceans. The memory felt like a kind of morning, as if we had together watched the beginning of one enormous day. A voice from behind me echoed, “No one will want a heart like that!” My left hand rushed to cover an ear. “Of course they will,” I whispered.

I thought about the way she smelled, like tiny white meadow flowers.

Back on the street, I did my best to pretend he was light, as though my knees could not buckle, as though I didn’t need a break--ever. After a moment leaning against an orange dumpster in an alley, I announced with new strength, “No God would orphan you. No God.” I let my voice carry all the determination and conviction I could muster.

With my arm cradling his knees, I held his hand. He knows when I hold his hand because his heart really starts going. I began to think about her again--the way her hair will feel like the lightest feathers from angels' wings. But with him having been through so much pain, it wouldn’t be fair. Is it right to sacrifice all his loss, all his pain, for this fleeting memory, for the possibility that she might be real?

So I told him our story. I tell him that I imagine God has lined every person in the whole world up in front of me. I scan and examine all of them, and every time, I still pick him. He loves that story! And this time, as I told the story for maybe the thousandth time, I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear that ‘glug-glug’ sound in his chest!

Each time I tell the story, more and more of it seems to get lost in my gasping for air. The life it has taken to support this body of sorrow has little will anymore. Like a familiar old friend, my knees began shaking again, and the sting of sweat was met with the familiar silent screams.

“You are my lucky ticket," I say to my body as I pick up my pace--needing to focus my mind on getting home. "And soon I will lay you to rest once and for all. We will trade-in all you’ve been through. And there she will be... soft kisses, the sweetest eyes, and a smile... that speaks of love.”

It just sounds bad in a pawn shop.

SINGLE PARAGRAPH STORIES ABOUT TEACHING KIDS GUITAR

(BASICALLY, THIS IS FROM VARIOUS FACEBOOK POSTS)

Teaching kids guitar yesterday: 5 y.o. girl, always laughing and smiling. By the time we started, I realized she was sitting in the swival chair (feet not even touching the ground of course) Her chair starts turning slowly away from me... she begins to smile. I act alarmed, "You are going away!!!" The little girl reaches for the wall, correcting the turn. With a giggle, she says "I'm keeping myself here!"

...................................................

(Teaching ADORABLE 5 y.o. girl guitar) She begins whispering about a "leprechaun trap." (verbatum) "If you ever see a green foot sticking out of a tree, that's a leprechaun." I Lean toward her as she continues. "Keep your eyes peeled for rainbows (hand held to eyes like telescope)." I am soon whispering too. She finally adds, "At the end of a rainbow, there is something glowing."

.....................................................

SANDMONSTER!

The word "Sandmonster" came from a little girl who sat on the floor in the corner during her mom's guitar lessons. She drew with crayons, oblivious to the conversation and music. When the lesson was over, she handed her art to me. "It's for you."

I had no idea what I was looking at. I said "Wooooooooowwwwww!! You are an ARTIST! Please tell me about this!!"

"It's a treasure map." She pointed to a special place. "And this is where there are diamond treasures."

"What's this darkish area?!" I asked.

"That is where the sandmonster lives!"

That conversation happened 8 years ago. Still remember it well.

..............................................

(short story that is cool)

"Harry, come here. On the lowdown... I've heard about this liquid stuff called "water." It's supposedly thicker than air. And with fish like us, it's super-easy to breath!! If rumors are true, then we could swim in it, do sommersaults, whatever we want! We gotta start looking for "water!"

..........................................................

A friend of mine and mother asked her son if he liked his new 3rd grade teacher.

"She's OK." Her son had the same teacher for 1st and 2nd grade, so having a new teacher in the 3rd grade was a real change.

Curious, mom asked, "Why is your new teacher just 'OK'?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." Later in the day, and after a bit more prying, the boy explained. "My new teacher doesn’t hug the kids."

....................................................

A boy came to lesson and said "I memorized.... " then he stopped and began looking for his guitar pick. Then he looked concerned, and began trying to find his assignments etc. I said, "Let me get this straight: You forgot what it is that you memorized?"

.................................................

This week, I had a knarly pimple emerge exactly mid-forehead.

Eventually, all I saw in the mirror was the pimple. I soon convinced myself that if I looked up, I could only see the bottom of my zit.

Before teaching kids guitar private lessons, I’d dot my forehead with a foundation pencil. Once the day began, I was having fun.

As usual, I pretended to be strict. As usual, there was a lot of laughter.

When 7-year old Jackson played very well, I celebrated taking out a sheet of dime-sized colored stickers of monkeys and frogs. His eyes got big.

I unpeeled a blue airplane sticker and handed it to him. He put it on his guitar.

I said, “And, we have an orange cat sticker. Where’s that going to go?” With a glowing smile, he added it to his music book. “Oh, here is the very last smiley face sticker. Where is this going to go, Jackson?”

He replied, “The bump on your face.”

..................................................

Another kid I teach is eternally optimistic about his playing, despite a complete lack of practice. Our interaction has become a sort of routine: He insists he is doing fine. I suggest he practice guitar more. Yesterday, he struggled terribly with a song he had been assigned. Crashed and burned! After an awkward silence, he looked to me with a nervous smile, "Well, it was almost close."

........................................

If you enjoyed this, you may like "WELL OF COURSE I AM" at this blog page.

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AUTISM - A STORY OF LOVE BETWEEN SOULS ("I'll Be Running By The Time I'm Seven")

Maryann, a Seattle-based spiritual counselor, recently worked with the family of a severely autistic six-year old boy named Joey.

Joey's parents had adopted an attitude of optimism and faith, unshaken by the relentless needs of their son. Through the years, Maryann developed a close friendship with the mother, Laura and her son Joey. Despite Joey’s inability to speak, it was clear to Maryann that the boy was a spiritually evolved soul. The spiritual counselor did important healing work with Joey, and facilitated communications between the boy and his mother.

A week ago, Joey was placed in critical care after an unexplainable heart failure. Desperate, Laura phoned Maryann stating, “We cannot lose him. Our family doesn't work without Joey.”

Maryann immediately sensed the boy was brain-dead, though it was not until the next day that tests verified his grave condition.

The spiritual counselor was able to connect with the comatose boy’s spirit, sensing Joey’s strong desire to leave his physical body. Maryann received the boy's message: “I am done. I want a new life. I am tired of people doing things for me. Please let me make this one decision for myself and tell my mother and father I love them.”

Maryann faced the task of telling an extraordinarily dedicated mother that her son had no intention of returning to his damaged body.

Laura was crushed. Yet days later found the courage and wisdom to accept her son’s wishes.

On January 7, 2010, critical care physicians in a Bermuda hospital announced that Joey was expected to live only a few more days.

Knowing that these were the precious last moments of her son’s life, Laura (with Maryann) spent a great deal of time pondering a persistent new message, “Mommy, you know why I’m doing this” then began reflecting on another message that had begun a year ago. “I’ll be running by the time I’m seven.”

With her son dependent on the help of life-support, Laura confided in Maryann. She explained she was in love with another man and that she wished to have another child with him and start a new family.

Laura's marriage had been arranged around Joey. As love began to fade, Joey’s care seemed to be all that was holding the family together. On a soul-level, Joey knew that his mother had placed his own care above her own needs, and that his own neediness prevented her from being with the love of her life.

Years ago, in Maryann's first communication with Joey, a message was received revealing "the plan.” Maryann believed this referred to a type of deep commitment between Laura and Joey. The other often-repeated message was “I’ll be running by the time I’m seven.”

When Joey passed on, Laura was released from a marriage based solely upon the needs of an autistic child. The mother was now free to create a new life with the man she truly loved. Too, she would be able to live her ultimate dream of having a second child and creating a new family.

Days before Joey’s heart stopped, Laura hoped to connect with her child one last time. Laura asked Maryann to pose the question: “Would you be willing to come back as my next child?”

Maryann was apprehensive, thinking this could be too much, too soon for Joey. Also, the spiritual counselor realized the mother was dealing with an overwhelming personal crisis and may not be able to handle an answer she did not want to hear.

Nevertheless, Maryann asked the question of Joey. His answer was an explosion of warm light. The boy wished to return to Laura in a healthy body.

It seems “the plan” had been to live with Laura as an autistic child, providing his mother with lessons in unconditional love, patience and commitment.

Over time, the messages communicated through Maryann seemed to make more sense. Joey was to enter this world with a crippled mind and body. By leaving his body, Joey would free his mother from the failed marriage and allowing her to create a new life with the man she loved.

On January 9, 2010, six-year old Joey left this world. Though they continue to ponder "the plan" and the messages like "mommy knows why I’m doing this,” Laura and Maryann believe they have participated in a story interwoven with divine symmetry. After all, Joey may be running by the time he is seven.

.................................................

Joey's family resides in Bermuda. Maryann contributed a great deal of her time during this time of transition, accepted NO money, and expressed very little interest in a story documenting these events. Because the story involves private information, the spiritual counselor has not posted this article to her own website or in blogs containing her real name.




KEYWORDS: asperger autism autism autism children autism help autism history autism information autism news autism parents autism research autism society autism spectrum autism spectrum disorder autism spectrum disorders autism support groups autism symptoms autism teaching autism therapy autism toddlers autism treatment books on autism causes of autism children with autism

THICH NHAT HANH - (poem) Call Me By My True Names

This is my favorite poem ever. I'll let the Buddhist Monk writer Thich Nhat Hanh introduce it:

.....................

After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The tide of the poem is "Please Call Me by My True Names," because I have so many names. When I hear one of the of these names, I have to say, "Yes."

CALL ME BY MY TRUE NAMES

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow

because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second

to be a bud on a spring branch,

to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,

learning to sing in my new nest,

to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,

to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,

in order to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and

death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,

and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time

to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,

and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,

feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,

my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,

who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,

and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,

and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my people,

dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring,

so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.

My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,

so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can wake up,

and so the door of my heart can be left open,

the door of compassion.

Thich Nhat Hanh






KEYWORDS: buddhism meditation buddhism teachings compassion buddha compassion international compassion meditation forgive and forget forgive forget forgive infidelity forgive myself forgive yourself forgiveness forgiving forgiving yourself gandhi non violence how to ask for forgiveness how to forgive how to forgive a cheater how to forgive and forget how to forgive infidelity how to forgive someone jesus forgive learn to forgive learning to forgive mahayana buddhism ness ness technologies non violent protest non violent resistance nonviolence peace seeking forgiveness theravada buddhism tibetan buddhism why forgive woss ness

THE STORY OF MY HERO, THICH NHAT HANH

This is a story about my hero, Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist Monk.

Thich Nhat Hanh grew up amidst the Vietnam War, an endless and bloody battle between "North Vietnam” and “South Vietnam.”

Raised Buddhist, he placed a high value on compassion for all beings regardless of race, religion, or political affiliation. Thich Nhat Hanh refused to engage in the politics of war by choosing between the "North" or "South," responding to the atrocities surrounding him by demonstrating "love in action," and forgiveness. "

During the Vietnam war, those with political agendas often went as far as to involve children or elders, or pose as members of the Red Cross, or even nuns. Everyone was looking over their shoulder. The killing and paranoia seemed to feed an unstoppable river of blood.

Thich Nhat Hanh founded a group called School of Youth for Social Service (SYSS), whose mission was to simply lessen the suffering of all. SYSS hoped to demonstrate the power of universal compassion and unconditional love to all people of Vietnam and the world.

This was a time when even an unconfirmed rumor of an affiliation with the "North" or "South" would result in death or torture within hours.

The work of SYSS included recovering the remains of young villagers caught in the line of gunfire, offering comfort and prayers as a land mine victim lay dying, rebuilding bombed villages, setting up schools, establishing medical centers, and resettling families left homeless.

On several occasions, members of Thich Hanh Hahn’s group (often teenagers or men or women in their early twenties) were executed based on suspicions that SYSS had an ulterior political agenda.

At one point, a platoon of US soldiers was near Thich Nhat Hanh’s home village. All but one of eleven young Americans were gunned down in an ambush. Consumed with the desire for revenge, the surviving soldier rigged candy with explosives, and placed the candy on a trail traveled by children each day.

Many babies and children were killed. Thich Nhat Hanh and his associates recovered parts of their small bodies, returning the remains to mourning mothers and fathers. For a man deeply committed to non-violence, compassion and love, this was a nearly unbearable task.

After capturing the attention of world media, Thich Hanh Hanh was exiled from Vietnam by the Vietnamese government. Consider the irony: Most of the men and women living in his village were either too frightened to leave their homes, or had been lured into the politics of the war and violence. Thich considered all of Vietnam, and all of it’s people to be sacred, and refused to withdraw his assertion that there is a non-violent solution.

As a result of his decisions and the creation of School of Youth for Social Service, many of Hanh's young friends and co-workers were killed execution-style. Choosing a path of peace placed him near battlefields and minefields where he collected body parts and the remains of children. With this behind him, he is then forcibly deported from his homeland, once beautiful, now a slaughter ground.

In the following years, Hanh was haunted by memories of the brave young men and women who had worked alongside him. More than that, he struggled to maintain a heart that can forgive and remain open while living with the memory of the children and the candy-bombs.

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote books about Buddhism and the virtues of peace, compassion and "listening deeply." He founded Plum Village in France, where he created a community exemplifying these values.

He traveled the world helping those suffering because of war. This included trips to the U.S., where he often received death threats and false accusations.

One day in the United States, while donating time to help Vietnam vets heal from war-related trauma, a man approached him. “I cannot bear to be in a room with children.”

In tears, the man explained that after watching all of his buddies die in an ambush, he became consumed by the desire for revenge. Unaware of the common threads in their past, the veteran continued, confessing that he laced candy with explosives, resulting in the death of Vietnamese children. Since that day, looking into the eyes of a child makes the war veteran suffer from uncontrollable shakes, nausea and unbearable anxiety.

When Thich Nhat Hanh realized this was the US soldier who had killed the small children in his village, he invited the man to kneel with him and pray.

Tormented by depression, nightmares, and thoughts of suicide for more than a decade, the man didn’t think he could go on. Thich Nhat Hanh responded. “Do not make yourself suffer because of the past. There are 60,000 starving children in the world right now. By leaving the past behind and making your home in the present moment, we can help children now. It is never too late to water the seeds of love.”

Thich Nhat Hanh demonstrates a saint-like ability to love and forgive beyond inconceivable pain and cruelty. After the horrific loss of those children, he went on to teach about the beauty of even the tiniest flower, emphasizing the importance of a single smile and the transformative healing power of "listening with your heart."

He could have given up on hope and love, or allowed himself to become cynical. But because Thich Nhat Hanh remained firm in his courage to "be love," the world is a better place. To me, this story teaches that each of us possesses the resilience to move beyond unimaginable hardship. Moreover, that with such a story behind us, we can offer the world an even more powerful example of love's transformative power.

In 1967, Martin Luther King, Jr. nominated Thich Nhat Hanh for the Nobel Peace Prize.





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The Truth About Enemies

We need enemies. They are a rite of passage.

Seeing others as enemies is part of our spiritual evolution. Enemies are a way to get through life when we are not yet able to take responsibility for our own experiences.

Just like people, countries can engage in this type of consciousness. One country can declare another country to be an enemy. “You are the reason we have so many problems.” In the business world, companies can participate in "enemy-thinking.”

Enemy-thinking is always a form of denial.

As we accept our role as creator of our experiences, the need to blame and point fingers at enemies falls away. If someone truly engages in hurtful behavior, we can use the situation to our benefit 1) Identify the parts within ourselves that are not yet able to forgive ourselves or others, 2) See the situation as an opportunity to forgive. 3) Recognize the situation as an opportunity to teach by example.

Those who engage in enemy-thinking have a birthright to happiness and love just like you or I.

The flipside of this is not so easy. If we can forgive ourselves for thinking in terms of enemies, can we go as far as forgiving others for their enemy-thinking? What about if it is me who is targeted as an enemy? Will I be clear enough to identify the parts of me that are not yet able to forgive? Will I be able to observe how I “buy in” to this type of behavior, “agreeing” on some level that I deserve less?

When accuses me, or claims I am the reason they are hurting, my defenses go up. My kneejerk reaction is to make them “wrong.” But I’ve found that by taking a step back, and reminding myself that just as with me, this person has the "right” to see people as “enemies.” Just as there is nothing inherently wrong with me when I think this way, others have the same right.

While enemy-thinking may not be fun, it is a necessary part of growth. Enemy-thinking in ourselves or others is always an opportunity to grow and move beyond self-imposed barriers.

When I think of seeing life in terms of "enemies," I am reminded of a gentle saint who once said, "Eventually, even suffering loses its charm.”