Loving the Questions, Some Thoughts on a Passage by Rainer Maria Rilke

Posted on May 26, 2011 by Jennifer

In a letter to a young, idealistic poet, Rilke writes:

“You are so young; stand before your beginnings…Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language…Live the questions…Perhaps gradually you will, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. Perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential to visualize, to design, and to create for yourself an utterly satisfying, joyful, and pure lifestyle. Discipline yourself to attain it, but accept that which comes to you with deep trust, and as long as it comes from your own will, from your own inner need, accept it, and do not hate anything.”

From, Letters to a Young Poet (See all Letters & Correspondence Books) , by Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. By Joan M. Burnham

This is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and profound things I have ever read. The whole book of letters Rilke wrote should be read at least once a year by every serious writer and lover of the world. It is seasoned with wisdom and gentle encouragement. And it definitely holds up well to repeated, devotional reading.

This passage holds many keys to living your dreams. First, Rilke reminds the young poet (the author, which we all are—we all author our own lives) to have patience in regards to the questions. We tend to want answers now. We want the knots loosened immediately. We want the finish line now, or better yet, we want it yesterday, because then we wouldn’t’t be in this mess of not knowing today—or so we imagine.

Not only does Rilke suggest having patience with the questions, but to learn to love them. I know for myself I often become frustrated when things don’t go my way. And when things pop up on the road to my dreams that I don’t understand, I tend to hate them—or at very least, become annoyed by them.

Rilke encourages us to love the unknown instead of fearing it. And when we do this, hidden rooms open their doors, foreign books translate directly into our heart, and then, the answers themselves appear as experiences—not simply intellectual, head-knowledge.

Rilke proceeds to humbly tease out of his young reader the question of whether or not he carries within himself the ability to manifest the answers he seeks, to manifest his dreams. Rilke, I believe, knew the young writer had the ability, for we all have the ability. But Rilke also knew that most of us do not use it, and thus, he floats it out there as a question—very nearly a challenge…”Perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential…”
And then Rilke gives him the key to the attainment of the answers—discipline his thinking to able to imagine and visualize the lifestyle he desires and needs.

Finally, Rilke ends this passage with a radical statement, one that might sound completely impossible—“and do not hate anything.” Now that is different. We are all so conditioned to view everything as good or bad, but Rilke not only says to love the uncertainty, but to not hate anything—even the uncertainty. In fact, he says to accept everything that comes to him “with a deep trust.”—not just any old trust—a deep trust. For that’s what it takes when things come to us we are afraid of, when the future seems almost threatening, when you’re trying not to fan the flames of a fear-frenzy, or when something comes to us that seems tragic, painful, or disappointing. Trust, he says, implying there is a greater Author at work, one that wants to use him for His purposes. One that wants to be the Ultimate Answer to every question the young poet can ever have.

The Spiritual Aspects of the Parts of Speech, Part I, Nouns

Posted on May 23, 2011 by Jennifer

What follows is a two part series on a few of the main parts of speech.

“Arg…Why?” You might be groaning. “This isn’t school!”

Sure it is, and besides, I am a teacher by trade. But don’t worry. We will be looking into the interesting spiritual aspects of nouns, verbs, and so on.

There are spiritual sides to these? Of course there are. There are spiritual sides to everything. And how we speak is important to how we live. Thoughts are things, and both our thoughts and words have creative powers. A little more consciousness into such matters is always helpful.

In this entry we will cover nouns. Next week we will look at verbs. And then, over the next six weeks we will also cover adjectives, adverbs, pronouns, and prepositions. Enjoy.

Nouns

Nouns are the naming words in our language. They name everything from objects like chairs to emotional qualities like love. Everything, and I mean everything, has a name. In Genesis, pretty much the first thing God gives Adam to do is to name the animals. And so for hours he sits there watching the parade of creatures passing before him, and he names them, each and every one. I can’t help but think that he knew their names because they were somehow part of him, but that’s another entry.

As babies, one of the first things we do is go around naming
everything “da,”—but we were naming nonetheless.

Why are names important? Emmet Fox says names, especially in sacred texts, hold the quality of the thing named. God, for example, is called Wonderful, Counselor, Prince of Peace, etc. in the book of Isaiah. In the thirteenth century, the original word for name, meant: one’s reputation (http://www.etymonline.com/index.php).

What do you call things? What do you call your loved ones? Do you use terms of endearment? Do you “call people names,” in the negative sense? What names do you like for God? What name have you secretly wished you had for yourself?

Today, try and become conscious of the names you give things and of the names of things around you. Explore and play with giving things new names. Notice if there’s any resistance to the new names. Look through various religious texts and find all of the ways God is referred to. Notice how the people around you use—or don’t use names. Try and call everyone you know today by their name—savor the words of their names like the gifts that they are. Ask someone you don’t know what their name is. If it’s a foreign name, be sure to ask them what it means. Reflect on whether the name of someone or something fits. Finally, give a name to your dream; your most secret desire, and treasure that. Repeat it over and over again with love and devotion, and then watch it manifest before you.

The Great Secret of Beauty

Posted on May 19, 2011 by Jennifer

When I was a Waldorf teacher, I taught the simple, yet profound concept of straight and curved on the first day of first grade. It was one of the most meaningful things I’ve ever been blessed to teach. Prior to teaching it I had never given the idea a conscious thought, but as I studied it the summer before school started, I marveled at the yin and yang of it all. In a nut shell, the concept of straight and curved is that everything, no matter what you see, is made up of either straight lines or curved, or a combination thereof.

On that first day of school I expressed this truth in a little story about a boy and a girl looking for the Great Secret of Beauty. In the story they wandered together down straight paths and crooked paths. They ate juicy, round oranges underneath tall, straight trees. He walked with a stout staff while she rolled a hoop along as she went. Along the way they met characters who were unyielding and harsh and others whose hearts were soft as down. They stretched out to rest on park benches and they also sat in the curved boughs of an oak tree. They learned things that were true and that would never change—things that might even sting a little, but were true and helpful nonetheless. They learned about the curved grace of mercy as it wrapped the soft cloak of relief around their little shoulders, giving them a cool, shady place to eat when their journey seemed so long. They had butterflies land on their arms and they noticed the butterflies had straight, black bodies combined with elegantly curved and colorful wings. They experienced the straight beams of the sun and the soft glow of the moon.

The little boy and girl eventually discover the Great Secret of Beauty—an owl tells them. But before I told that part of the story I asked the question to the first graders: “Do you know what the Great Secret of Beauty is?” Their answers were sweet—“To have nice hair,” one student said. “To be nice,” one perceptive student offered.

Eventually I finished the story and laid out the Great Secret of Beauty by drawing on the board one straight line that descended from heaven, so to speak, down to the earth, and then, next to it, a curved line—sort of like a wide “C.”

Then I asked, “Boys and girls, can you find anything straight in this room or anything curved?” The students excitedly ran around the room pointing out everything they could find that was straight—the door, the desks, the black board, the ceiling tiles, the lights, their pencils, the squares on the floor tiles.
Looking for the curved things was a little more challenging, but they did it, and the more curved things they found the easier it was to discover others. They pointed out that the wind made the curtains on the window look curved, they pointed to the bell on my desk that was shaped like a little, rotund lady, they found the round candle I had next to the straight one. They pointed to the round faces of the sunflowers in a vase by the front of the room. They noticed that the letters of the alphabet and even the numbers above the board were made of combinations of straight and curved lines. They were a smart bunch.

Then I asked them to stand still and think of their own bodies. “Anything straight or curved there?” I asked. They had fun with that one—the soft curve of their little ears, their straight, yet pudgy fingers, their wide, round eyes, and their little, straight legs. They even realized their mouths could be both. I told them that was because they could speak the Truth and they could also speak the language of the Heart—Love and kindness.

Over the next few years, I would refer back to this first lesson and keep deepening it. We expanded on the ideas of Truth having the gesture of straightness—forwardness, directness—it doesn’t deviate or compromise. The gestures of Love and Mercy were curved somehow, as were the times we did need to compromise. They learned that sometimes I would give them hard, unyielding directions, and other times my answers and responses were soft.

And so it is with all of us. We all need the comforting, straightness of the Truth, and we all need the curved softness of Love.

As an exercise today, become aware of the Great Secret of Beauty in your life–in your house, your walk or drive to work, your office, etc. Look for it in everything you see today—in the faces of your co-workers or your children, in nature, in yourself. Reflect on the qualities you believe your Higher Power has—which are straight, which are curved? Which aspect of the Great Secret of Beauty do you feel most attracted to? Which qualities do you need to develop in yourself? Have fun with this—it is a grand and endless adventure—the Great Secret of Beauty.

Spontaneous and Erratic

Posted on May 16, 2011 by Jennifer

Spontaneous has its origins in the Latin. It means, essentially, of one’s own free will. Of course, in today’s vocabulary, the word has come to mean free to do whatever, wherever, by whatever means necessary. Be spontaneous—drop everything and go to Europe. Be spontaneous and get a new relationship. Be spontaneous and be free from constraints. Give in to your natural impulses and feelings.

However, if we take the word back to its beginnings—of one’s free will, it implies a certain measure of discipline, control, and planning (a word that is now used as an antonym to spontaneous). I see this principle in life all over the place.

In teaching children to write, I start off with a playful love of language, and gradually introduce the rules of grammar and the mechanics of punctuation. Once the student has the form, the structure, the discipline of language, then they can branch out and spontaneously write whatever they want.

I see it in my sons. All three of them can write songs on the piano, the violin, or the guitar. But they all started out learning to read music and learning the fundamental scales, the finger positioning, the proper way to hold and play their instruments. Now they jam.

I see it in the fact that I learned very formal prayers when I was a child, and now my prayer life has branched off into many different, spontaneous directions. I can even spontaneously use the old formal prayers, if I so choose.

The key is in the freedom. And in my experience, freedom comes as a result of discipline.

Erratic on the other hand means having no definite direction, no focus, or set course. In plant terminology it refers to a kind of lichen that is not fastened to anything. It implies strange behaviors, a certain unsteadiness.

It has old roots in both French and Latin. It originally meant wandering or deviating from a plan—like making a mistake, for example.

I need to be sure not to confuse spontaneous and erratic. I also have to be careful to remember the original definition of spontaneous.

I can be spontaneously erratic and not get anywhere, except maybe a mental hospital or jail. Living my life completely based on my feelings will get me these same results.

I can be spontaneously disciplined and have anything I want. The road may twist and dip and turn and rise, but it is still a road. It still leads somewhere. Having a vision for my life, a purpose, a mission, helps me stay disciplined. And the more I learn to be discipline, the more freedom I experience and can put to common, everyday practice.

Rumi and the Art of Falling and Flying

Posted on May 14, 2011 by Jennifer

This is the first poem I ever memorized as an adult. It’s by Jalaluddin Rumi, a Persian mystic poet, and translated by Coleman Barks.

The way of love is not a subtle argument,

The door there is devastation.

Birds make great, sky-circles of their freedom.

How do they learn it? They fall. And in falling

Are given wings.

—Rumi, trans. Coleman Barks

Have you ever felt the devastation of love? Have you ever ached for someone as you watched them go down roads you knew were destructive? Have you ever loved someone with such intensity that everything else fell away from your conscious awareness, like leaves from a tree? Have you ever held a sleeping infant on your chest, like a baby bird? Have you ever been rejected? Have you ever longed for union with God so deeply that you stayed up all night weeping? Have you ever chased a dream only to fall and scatter your faith and pride across the floor like a spilled treasure box?

All true love—the love of spouse, children, friends, dreams, can be devastating. It can also be sheer ecstasy. But just as tears are shed while laughing or crying, love both hurts and thrums with the joy of the adventure. And learning to love and be loved is most definitely an adventure.

***************

I watched my three sons learn to walk. I watched them all go through the stages where they crawled across the floor, reached up for a hand-hold, grabbed the edge of a table, and slowly lifted themselves onto wobbly knees. I watched those boys sway, teeter, and fall. I watched them reach for that table again. I watched them take their first steps, arms held high at the shoulders, feet stuttering and plodding. I saw the look of amazement in their faces as they stepped haltingly towards me and then rushed—no, flew–into my arms. I saw the look of utter frustration as they fell over and over again. But never once did they stay down and cry for too long. Every time they fell while learning to walk, every single time, they got up again. Now they play baseball. Now they ride bikes. Now they go to dances. Now they are in the coolest rock band around. They fly.

So when you fall, rise again. The billy club has no place in the adventure of love. Self pity and remorse have no place in the heart of the one teetering and stumbling towards freedom. You once had the fierce determination of a baby learning to walk. Your body remembers, your cells remember, your heart remembers the complete focus you had on your goal. Deep inside, your heart remembers the spunky, desperate attitude of never giving up. It remembers wanting to walk so badly it risked bloody lips, skinned knees, and endless befuddlement and feelings of powerlessness. Of course, many of us were spurred on by the waiting arms of a loving, smiling parent. So what? Our dreams are doing the same thing for us. They are waiting, with outstretched arms, encouraging us all the way. GOD is doing the same thing. He is looking “a long way off,” like the father of the prodigal son, and yearns with a love for us that is electrifying in intensity.

And we can do this for each other. Who doesn’t fall or falter? Why not catch one another instead of taking everything so horribly seriously and personally? Are we not mirrors for each other anyway? Are we not brothers and sisters on the journey? There are no subtle arguments here. There’s no room for complaining. Rise up and grab the edge of something, even if it’s the tattered edge of a childhood dream. Lift yourself up. And it’s OK to let someone else carry you once in awhile. It’s OK to let them take your hand and lead you around the room as you step, looking wide-eyed at the world. Most of all, it’s OK to fall.

***************

At least the devastation is a door Rumi says. At least it leads someplace. It’s not merely pain for pain’s sake. It has a purpose, as annoying as that might be for some of us. Believe that the place it really leads is outwards—it leads to a ledge where the leap of faith must be taken. You walk through the door of devastation only to step out into open air, a thousand feet high. But there, about 20 feet away—just across a little cloud, is your goal. You look down, you leap, and it turns out the 20 feet is an illusion—it’s really 20 miles and you end up flying for years before you land on the other side. But think of it—you’ll be flying. How cool is that? Heaven is in the journey—literally.

For the wings are only given after you fall; when you’ve left the safe nest of old, regurgitated ideas, and are hurtling straight down towards the open, gaping jaws of a cat. It’s then the wings appear. They sprout from your shoulder blades as you begin wildly flapping your arms. They don’t form however, if you simply fall—they grow out of your desire to live your dreams. They grow from your instincts for survival and greatness. You need to at least try to fly…and then grace will suddenly, and quite unremarkably (since in heaven living your dreams is common place) pull wings from your shoulders and you will find yourself rising, soaring, and circling in freedom.

Worrying and Fretting

Posted on May 7, 2011 by Jennifer

I used to take a warped sense of pride at proclaiming I was a worry wart. I guess I figured it showed how much I cared about the person or circumstance I was worrying over. It should be added right here, that I used to garner a fair amount of attention from being a worrier. I would worry, fret, and otherwise get myself into a tizzy of despair, only to find myself seeking comfort in various people, behaviors, and circumstances. To take comfort is human. It’s just that some people get to liking comfort so much they become addicted to it, and so create situations in their lives as to ensure the need for more comfort. Life becomes one elaborate smoke screen of negative self-indulgence. Behind the smoke the real issues lurk, like deer in the fog, or monsters in closets.

Being someone who likes playing with words, I decided to head over to the handy etymology website (http://www.etymonline.com/) and check out the origins of the word worry. It turns out worry is related an Old English word, wyrgan, which means, to strangle. What an appropriate use of the word! Worry strangles our Heart’s Desires. In fact, digging deeper into the word, it is also related to an Old Norse word, virgill, which means rope. Worry then, is a rope we use to strangle our own dreams. It’s also a frayed, twisted rope we use to connect ourselves to negative comfort-seeking behaviors, hence destroying our dreams in the process.

And even more fascinating are the roots of the word, fretting. Fretting is related to an Old English word, fretan, which was used in reference to monsters and Vikings, and it means to devour or eat away. When I’m fretting away at some concern, it’s eating away my energy to think and act creatively towards my Heart’s Desire. If this condition gets bad enough, the worrying and fretting strangle my dreams and then devour them. These are not pretty images are they?

The solution? Substitution, repetition, and action. Substitute the worry-thoughts and the fret-thoughts with positive, healthy affirmations. Repeat these every time the worry thoughts try to crowd in with their handfuls of rope. Repeat them when you’re not worrying or fretting. Record your positive affirmations on a cassette or cd and listen to them while you’re walking or about to go to sleep.

Going through a creative visualization and transforming your worries into positive images can also be a form of substitution. Once you’ve transformed them then repeat their positive counterparts.

Finally—action. It’s hard to stay really worried if I am purposefully engaged in constructive actions related to the achievement of my heart’s Desire. Move a muscle change a thought. When you find yourself entranced, literally under the spell of worry–move, get up. Dance, wash the windshield of your car, take out the trash, pull a weed, something—move your body and break the spell—let go of the rope of worry and move freely through the world.

Our Heart’s Desires are too important to be strangled and eaten. Once this happens, not only are we depressed and start that endless, empty drifting through our days, but we become victims. And that’s the next word we’ll study. Look for it in a few days.

In the mean time, inventory your worries and your blessings. Once you get your worries written down replace each one with a positive opposite. Repeat those words every day. Use your list of blessings as affirmations, and please, keep moving.

Part 3 of Your Heart’s Desire
arrives Wednesday, May 11.

A Creative Visualization For Breaking the Spell of Fear

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Jennifer

One day I had enough of being afraid of violent things happening to me. Just because I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, that didn’t mean I had to let it run my life. And in reality, it didn’t. I still functioned in the world. Some of the violent fears I had were being afraid of people breaking into my house, or of people (strangers) being in my house when I got there, or hiding under the bed, in the closet, in the shower. I used to be afraid of being shot at red lights, or in parking lots, just to name a few. But here again they didn’t necessarily own me, they just took up a lot of soul-space. I would still enter my house even while being assailed by violent images. I still took showers (you’ll be glad to know). I still drove my car, and so on. So these irrational fears didn’t stop me from living, they just stopped me from living fully. I see now, while I did suffer from PTSD, some of my bizarre fears were subconsciously designed to get me sufficiently upset so that I would run to my addictions for comfort.

One night, I was home alone and began to get attacked by these types of fears. Instead of giving into them however, and sliding head-first into a pool of panic-induced sweat, I found myself angry. I had had enough of playing these violent images over and over in my head. I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. They were draining my energy, both creative and physical. They were causing me to view the whole world as hostile and evil. They were, as I mentioned, driving me towards my addictions. In short, they were crowding me out of my own life.

And then this idea struck me that I never had before: create a visualization in which I ask the terror-thoughts to manifest themselves into beings and invite them to the table for a little chat. I couldn’t believe my mind’s ears, but I did it. My intuition was fired up. I began imagining each one of the violent thoughts as being a real person. I invited the burglar to come in through the window and have a seat at the table. I asked the weird guy under the bed to come out and join us. He got up, dusted himself off and stomped to the table. I went and opened up the closet and shoved away the shirts on hangers to find the skeleton crouched up, like a dead crow. He crackled and snapped as he rose up, stepped from the clutter, and clicked his way to the dining room. The guy in the shower shouted: “What’s going on? Why’s everybody coming out of their spots?” “Out!” I commanded, “Get out of the shower and into the dining room. Now.” He grumbled like a disappointed kid and pouted his way out of the bathroom. I also invited any stray ghosts, monsters, and all around evil-doers who just happened to be loitering in and around my house. And they all came, an odd parade of creatures, padding and dragging, and slithering and slimming their way to the table.

When we were all settled I pulled up a chair and said, “Alright guys. This needs to stop. What do you want?”

There was an uncomfortable silence among them. The skeleton guy opened and closed his lower jaw. The shower guy was using his knife to dig dirt out from under his fingernails. I winced. The thieves and monsters sat looking glum, like I had just ruined their party, and in fact, I had.

“Come on,” I said, “you all want something. Do you need attention? We’ll you’ve got it.”

“Do you want…”—I continued, but was interrupted by the guy from under the bed: “We want to be loved,” he burst out.

“Loved? What do you mean?”

“I mean loved, you know, the way you love the happy guys with wings you let hang out with you while you’re praying or sitting cross-legged and doing whatever that is you do.”

“Meditate.” I said.

“Whatever. We want you to love us like the radiant ones that live in your heart–those guys. After all, we can inspire you too.”

I looked at them all for a long time. They looked down at their feet and began sobbing. Big glops of snot plopped on the floor from one of the monster’s noses.

“You have a strange way of asking to be loved,” I said.

“It’s the only way we know how,” said the skeleton, who sat wringing his boney fingers.

The others nodded.

“Alright,” I said, “here’s the deal, I will learn to love you, all of you, as long as you stop terrorizing my head.”

“Once you start to love us,” said a green-eyed werewolf, “we will automatically stop lurking around trying to scare you. We’ll want to go to the movies with you and stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” I stammered.

“And there’s one more thing,” said a Boogyman who lived in the basement.

“What’s that.”

“Once you love us and get to know us, we’ll all want to go home.”

“Home?”

“Yes. The reason we’re here is because you keep us here, and we’d like to go home.”

“Really?” I said, a bit surprised.

The gathered monsters all agreed. They said if I could get to know them well enough, see them for what they really are, they would be free to go back into Nothing, which for them is home sweet home.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll try. Let’s start now by getting to know each other better. Let’s order a pizza. Anyone like pizza?”

And at that question the rowdy crowd began cheering and shouting which toppings they wanted, and they never terrorized me again. I have learned to love them in the same way I would a group of frightened children, and I have even been able to listen to them and let them inspire me to write or sing, and more importantly, I have learned to let them go. Sometimes I remember them and they poke their heads out from around the corner and wave. But then I just look up from the ground and blow them a kiss and move on with my day, and they vanish like deer into the mist.

Today I walk freer than ever before, especially after having made amends and gotten right with my fellow human beings. The world’s a lot less scary when I stop projecting my own misdeeds and judgments. Once you make restitution for harms done, it’s just a little bit harder to be a complete jerk, and thus there are fewer scary guys hiding in the shadows.

I am presently doing variations on this same process with my doubts and worries. I have even begun doing this for my positive thoughts. I creatively visualize myself sitting down to dinner with people I admire: Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Helen Keller, Emmet Fox, Bill Wilson, and so on. I pick their brains and ask them questions. I ask them what they want me to do, and then I do it. I ask them, in short, how do I honor them and love them? And they are always eager to tell me how.

How can this type of creative visualization be helpful in helping you follow Your Heart’s Desire?

Tomorrow we will play with the words, “worry,” and “fretting.” So tune in then.

Self Expression

Posted on April 25, 2011 by Jennifer

I love this phrase: It literally means, squeeze yourself, press yourself out. And this can be taken to mean a few different things that are actually all related. One is press or squeeze your “self” out—the selfishness, the greed, the fear. The other is press or squeeze your “self” out—your real self, the self God wants you to be; the self that is joyously and wonderfully perfectly imperfect. I’ll get to one other way to look at this phrase in a moment, but first I want to talk a little more about these first two ways of viewing the phrase: express yourself.

Either one of these ways implies suffering. Pressing out your self-centeredness hurts. Squeezing out from under the heavy rocks of your doubts and fears isn’t easy either. Likewise, letting your real, talented, lovely, and beautiful self out hurts too. And there is risk involved. Others might not approve. Others might be jealous. Others might be frightened when you step into your power and make significant, radical, and lasting changes.

Yet both of these types of expressions yield fruit. If we think of squeezing the juice from lemons and then making lemonade, we can imagine there being something good on the other side of our suffering. If we imagine pressing the oil from olives to make olive oil and then cook up a yummy meal, we can imagine there being joy on the other side of the pain.

So keep discovering who you really are. Keep living your dreams. Express yourself and rejoice. And as long as your self expression is lawful, and for the true betterment of the world, there is nothing to fear.

And this brings us to the last way I want to talk about expressing yourself. Deep down, within all of us, is a Larger Self—a Divine Self—the Wonder Child. Try expressing That, and see how your life and the lives of those around you change for the better. Allow This to be pressed out from under the heavy rocks of inhibition and doubt. Let This shine forth from the under the veil of dark fears and resentments. Share This Self by being yourself, and all will be right with the world.

Wednesday, April 27^th

Your Heart’s Desire arrives

Here

Individual

Posted on April 22, 2011 by Jennifer

The word individual, is interesting. Or should I say, the fact that society has tinkered with its definition over the years is interesting. Individual, actually means indivisible,—something that can’t be divided, or inseparable—something that can’t be separated. In our modern English language we use the word to mean a particular someone—a distinct entity—the rugged individualist. In fact, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary declares that the original meaning of individual is obsolete. Is that true however? Can a dictionary editor wipe definitions of words out of existence with a wave of a pen?

We need, perhaps more than ever, to be individuals in the truest, original sense of the word. Not only do we need to keep ourselves from being splintered into many different fragments—husband, father, mother, worker, student, brother, sister, Republican, Catholic, soccer coach, etc, but we need to join in with a group of like-minded people, a Mastermind Group, as Napoleon Hill calls it. We need more community and less isolation; more sharing and less hoarding; more paying it forward and less, where’s mine?

And that is what we are doing right now, sharing this page together. We are a like-minded group building an ever-widening community. We are one indivisible entity traveling the journey within together. We are Wonder Children seeking to shine their Light in the world. We are inseparable. And as we shine together, we see more clearly our heart’s desire.

Your Heart’s Desire is on the way…and YOU are attracting it.

There’s Something Else

Posted on April 17, 2011 by Jennifer

It’s in that far away place

marked, “Open Upon Receipt.”

And it comes to you—a door

floating in the air, and settles down

near the bed. You get up and go through.

It flies backwards and backwards, tumbling, like

a memory you’d rather relive

than remember.

When it stops, you open it,

careful not to wake the sleeping giant

hunched over in his chair.

But there’s a golden quill pen in his hand.

Sure, you’re small.

You could sail in a walnut shell

if you had to. So what?

He won’t stay sleeping forever.

And there’s entire villages of pages

waiting to hear word

of what happens next.

–Joseph Anthony

Your Heart’s Desire is on the way…

The Wonder Child Blog

Sharing the Journey

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