Blogs

TIME OUT

- Guest blog by Wayne Lazarus

 
In sports, time-out is usually called by a coach so they can communicate with their team regarding strategy or to take a break to halt a loosing streak.
 

In the surgery room, when doctors are exhausted, a time-out is called and the physician stands on a red carpet which is symbolic of taking a restorative rest break.
 

When children are unruly, parents demand they take a time-out and sit in a chair in a corner or stand until their composure returns.
 

Meditation Is an opportunity to mentally and spiritually touch the tentacles of our source and is a restorative time-out.
 

A leisurely stroll through a wooded area focusing on gratitude is an uplifting time-out.
 

Shifting to a more esoteric or metaphysical view, many religions have a doctrinaire time-out. For instance, Shabbat (Friday night thru Saturday) in Judaism is a time-out from the mundane plane of time, space and matter occupying our focus and attention six days of the week.
 

Time-out between lifetimes is an opportunity to review and focus on personal mistakes and successes in this lifetime.  It is an opportunity to assess how the next incarnation can lead to higher levels of spiritual consciousness on soul’s journey back to its source.
 

Wayne Lazarus
8/18/18
 

Please visit Wayne's website, Poetic Aphorisms for his "poems, prose and simply rantings."  You'll be delighted, amused and enlightened. 

PROMS AND PLANE CRASHES

April 5, 2016


It's Spring - time for proms and graduations.  A wonderful time to be young and planning for college and careers - and creating memories that will last a life time.


Sadly, my graduation spring of 1962 holds none of these memories for me.  I don't even remember where my two BFF's were going to college.  I was in a fog when accepted to Georgia State University (it was Georgia State College back then).  Shouldn't I have been happy?  Excited?  Planning my future?

 

Nope.  None of that.  Why?  Because I'm different.  And it's taken me more than 50 years to finally come to terms with it and speak openly -- not because I "need" to but because the energy of the Universe is shifting and more people are asking "why" and seeking answers to life's challenging questions.


No one has all the answers, but together we can explore a plethora of options and ideas – and maybe some of us will find some Peace, and that will make the world a better place, don’t you think?


So, why don’t I have prom and graduation memories?  It’s simple: for months beforehand I had been dreaming about a disaster befalling my beloved City of Atlanta – and my mother was going to be one of the many casualties. That’s a heavy load for a simple 17-year-old girl to carry.

http://www.reporternewspapers.net/2012/05/04/50-years-later-orly-a-painful-memory/


Proms or plane crashes. Which would you remember?


Margery Phelps

CREMATION v BURIAL ?

October 5, 2016

 

“Will my soul be destroyed if I’m cremated when I die?” my friend Tina asked. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was really troubled and I thought other folks might have the same concern.


This is my take on that question: 


Think of your body as your “Earth Suit” - what you put on when you come here to the physical plane, the Earth Zone. 


This zone is composed of matter – atoms, molecules, things that take up space. To exist in this zone you must occupy some of that matter for a period of time. That’s what folks call “life” – your time here in the Earth Zone. (Oh, if only they really knew what “life” is; that’s a topic for another time.)


When you go to bed, don’t you take off your clothes and put on pj’s? You are preparing for a different situation, so you dress accordingly, don’t you? 


How about when you go for a jog, or attend a dinner party, or get married? All of these events require different costumes.


Since these costumes are made of matter, they eventually wear out; you discard these old clothes and replace them with something more comfortable, better fitting or the latest fashion.


So why, when you cross the bridge from the Earth Zone to the Eternal Life Zone, would you not discard your garb?  When you enter the ELZ you no longer need that Earth Suit made of matter and molecules.  Cremation v. Burial – does the Soul care?


Margery Phelps

THE BINOCULARS

 June 10, 2017


“Don’t you just love the view of Stone Mountain from here?” I asked my hostess. 


She looked puzzled; her sister-in-law overheard my comment and said, “That’s not Stone Mountain. That’s Sweat Mountain.”


We were admiring the view from their mountainside home while having pre-dinner cocktails on their back deck.


Five years prior, after moving to the top of a mountain north of Atlanta, I discovered distant views of two landmarks – Kennesaw Mountain to the west and Stone Mountain to the east.  Over the years I proudly told friends and family about my discovery.  They were both sights to behold.


“Oh, no,” I rebutted in a friendly tone.  “I’d recognize that profile anywhere.  That’s the exact silhouette of Stone Mountain.”


Just then our host stepped out. “Y’all admiring the view of Sweat Mountain?” he asked.


“No, we’re looking at Stone Mountain,” I answered. The hostess shook her head and smiled at me.


“That’s Sweat Mountain,” she said.

“No, it couldn’t be,” I said, with every intention of prevailing in this battle for the mountain.


Just then another guest entered the conversation. He’s a nuclear engineer, and very smart.


“I promise you that is Sweat Mountain,” he said.


At that point, I shrugged my shoulders, not willing to believe all my dear friends were so very wrong.  We ate dinner, enjoyed wine and good food, lots of laughs and stories.  The mountains were not mentioned again.


I went home shaking my head.  “I know they are all wrong,” I reiterated to myself.  “I’ll prove to them they are wrong.”


The next day I took my binoculars and walked back to my view of Stone Mountain. It was foggy and overcast, and I couldn’t see the mountain.  I did this every day for the next four days until the weather finally cleared. 


Stone Mountain is granite.  There are a few trees on the mountain itself, but only the base is densely wooded, sloping into the surrounding countryside. Most of the mountain is bare stone.  


With a huge smile on my face at the idea of proving my friends wrong, I peered into my binoculars. Hmmm…need an adjustment.  That mountain looks funny.  I fiddled with the binoculars and looked again. Hmmm…still not right.

I gazed in a different direction.  View was clear as glass.


Looked at the mountain again. Geez…still blurry.


“Good grief,” I muttered.  “That mountain is full of trees.  Right to the very top! It’s not granite.  It’s green!”

In that moment I realized I had been wrong – and not wrong just once, but for five years.  Good golly, how many folks had I misinformed?  That was not Stone Mountain at all.  It was Sweat Mountain.

I felt stupid for a moment until I remembered my Grandmother’s long forgotten wise words in my childhood: “You’re not stupid if you admit you are wrong.  You’re only stupid when you think you are always right.”


Thank you, Grammy. 


On my very pleasant and enlightened walk back home I wondered:  Why can’t folks admit they are wrong about something?  Why do they just see what they want to see?


My new view, through those binoculars, changed my perspective on many things, not just those two mountains.  That view can widen your knowledge, and expand your world – if you really want to know the truth.  All it takes is the willingness to look.  And then admit to your friends that you were wrong.

THE STREAM OF LIFE

September 7, 2018


 Walking along the mountain trail this morning, I looked down into the fern-strewn floor of the forest. It was boggy and damp, a perfect place for ferns. Further down, the wet land gave birth to a trickle of water, creating a tiny stream that grew with each tumble over rocks, detours around huge tree roots, or gentle sways across sand bars, constantly nurtured by mother nature.


On and on the stream persisted, getting deeper and wider, fed by other bubbling brooks.  At its start, it was only inches wide. Now it was broad and deep. Gathering momentum as it grew, it coursed on, eventually becoming the feeder pool to a lake, rippling and waving in the open, unimpeded as it had been in the mountain’s forest.


I wondered how far that little trickle of water would travel…across the lake, down the spillway of the dam, feeding the large river below, onward it would go, eventually merging into the vastness of the ocean. From there it would eventually be reabsorbed into mother earth and would one day reemerge in another forest, or perhaps a desert oasis, or beneath a melting glacier.


It seemed counter-intuitive to turn around and head back up the trail, away from the expansive view of the lake, but I had to get back to where I had come from.


We are like that small trickle of water that came out of nowhere. We are birthed from the oneness of eternity, small and needy, but quickly grow as we are fed and nurtured, our lives continually expanding, fed by relationships and experiences. We find ourselves in a huge world, coursing through life, winding around obstacles and overcoming challenges. 


At the end, we meld back into the eternal oneness from where we came; and one day we will re-emerge and again take our place in the stream of life.