Not without purpose

About two years ago, I left my  nice snow-white rabbit with a friend. I told my friend that when I'm able to muster enough confidence that I'd be able to care for it, I'll take the rabbit back.

Truth was I had no idea when I'd be able to get my rabbit back or if I'd be able to get it back at all. I was undecided but nevertheless enjoyed the thought that my rabbit would be looked after because my friend cared enough to do it.

Eventually, I left the matter of the rabbit for the Universe to decide on. I told myself that if the rabbit was really for me, it will be mine no matter how long it takes me to get it back.

A couple of days ago, without any clue as to what prompted it, I emailed my friend about getting the rabbit back.

It was uncharacteristic of my friend to take a while to answer my email. But when I read the response, I understood the reason for the delay.

"I am really sorry but I thought that you no longer wanted the rabbit. So I made it into a stew," my friend said.

What I learned?

Sometimes it takes seconds and at other times it takes months and even years  to get an answer but sooner or later if you tune in closely you will recognize what you are being told.

Posted with Aloha!
- By ARIEL MURPHY

People in our lives

On the way to a party the other day, I started thinking of why our lives cross those of others.  This was revealed to me: 




Photo from google.com

Love heals!

Posted with Aloha
- BY ARIEL MURPHY

Programs and patterns

Over dinner last night, guests and I talked about how the US Supreme Court upheld marriage equality for homosexuals.  My friend Greg then recounted how a good friend of his who was a foreigner wanted to hold hands with him one day while they were walking through a park. 

Greg said that although his friend was not gay the idea of holding hands with another man simply repulsed him. He said that later on he found out that in his friend's country, two men holding hands while walking was quite a normal thing to do and was not an indication nor even a hint of homosexual behavior, as it could be in the US.

Eating etiquette is another program I find amusing.  Emily Post admonishes against chewing noisily with an open mouth.  In Asia and especially in China,  smacking one's lips and making other loud noises while eating are meant to be complimentary. They are signs of appreciation for the food. The louder the sounds made while eating, the happier a host or a cook/chef is.

What we consider as acceptable and unacceptable made me think of the various "programs" we have in our psyche.  Some of our "programs," such as those pertaining to gender behavior, are so deeply engrained that we automatically recoil at an idea that does not fit patterns prescribed in the programs. One of those patterns says that straight men never hold hands with another man.

Greg's story reminded me of a photo I once took. I was inside a store and found a riveting pattern in one of the items for sale.  I thought that if I were to visualize the many programs and patterns that are in every person, I would see something like the photo below.

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- By ARIEL MURPHY

Dancing

There are times when I am blessed as I dance. 

When the twang of a lone guitar starts feeling like a light caress; and when the music is into me even as I am into the music, I feel connected powerfully. And I dance to magnify and celebrate that connection. I fling my arms open wide and move as much of my body as possible to receive and soak in the essence of it all.

As if instinctively, the energy refreshes every cell of my body, healing and restoring so that even if only for a while as I dance I am way more than just myself.  I am you, her, him, they. I am us. I am that part of ourselves that is true, good and beautiful. 

I dance to the music and to what I experience.

If I were to imagine how I would look like when I am in that state of oneness I'd say I look like this photo I took of a Cattleya.

I have to work on being in that state of oneness even if I am not dancing.  Still, I am really deeply grateful.


- Posted with Aloha!
By ARIEL MURPHY

Self cleansing

In my previous blog, I talked about helping a friend expose an anomaly in  the neighborhood organization that  my friend and I both belong to. The anomaly revolved around a  contract worth hundreds of thousands of money members of the community have contributed.

In helping my friend write his expose I was also learning more about the circumstances around the shadowy contract.  I saw the sleight of hand, the smokes and mirrors, the manipulation.  I was incensed at how officers of the organization not only betrayed the trust of the many but also put the organization at risk for legal liability. I was furious.

In my rage, I sent a message to one of the perpetrators.  I castigated her. I was sarcastic. I was mean.

"For somebody so brilliant, so knowledgeable, so in control, how could you do something so stupid," I said.

 I even became somewhat physical when I  ended my message with this: "Do yourself a favor and give your manipulators a crisp. hard, resounding smack on the face."

But the satisfaction I felt was only temporary. I was bothered by what I wrote. I was not in a state of love. The "Shadow" had claimed me just as it did the perpetrators of the anomaly. I was horrified at how I was being corrupted.

As I write this, I try to see  with love.  It is difficult and I am still trying,  aware that this is a case of the rubber meeting the road.  If I claim love, I must be in love.  A shift in my heart requires a corresponding mind shift.

 "She is only a victim," I tell myself.

While I do not condone what she did and still believe that she has to come to terms with the gravity of what she has done, if  I shut the door on her I am only a "resounding gong or a clanging cymbal."

Posted with Aloha
- By ARIEL MURPHY

Beauty and beast

For several days until yesterday, I was tied to my computer like a baby's umbilical cord is to its mother. I did not socialize. I  did not surf the internet. I did not log on to Facebook or Google+. In fact I even  deleted the Facebook app from my smarter- than- me cellphone.

I was focused on helping a friend write a memorandum exposing irregularities in the solicitation and award of a bid for a road project. A monstrous darkness  has imperceptibly crept into the community organization in which my friend and I were volunteers. 

The darkness arrived camouflaged  like wolf under sheep's clothing.  Not long after its entry into the organization  its tentacles  were inching their way into the nooks and crannies of the group. Unnoticed by those who didn't know any better, the darkness spawned corruption one after another. Deception and viciousness had a field day.    Hatred was so thick you could slice it with a knife.

Strangely, I both enjoyed and loathed writing for my friend.  I loved exposing the anomalies and indicting the crooks, especially since big money was involved.

But I  did not like how I felt in the course of writing the memo and learning about what happened.  It was as if the very darkness  had wormed itself into my heart. I was getting angry. I found myself thirsting for blood.

Looking back, I remember taking many showers and doing a lot of vigorous scrubbing as if in cleaning my body I could also purify my soul.

The darkness harvested the minds and souls of some people in the community organization. It was about to take mine when the Universe sent help. One lifeline was in the form of a Celebration of Life gathering. The other was a movie called The Book Thief.

Eleanor was in her 90s when she passed on. Although she was an artist and known in the community, I never met her. I was at her Celebration of Life gathering because she was the mother of my best friend's friend.  An eulogy given during Eleanor's celebration of life gathering particularly struck me.  One of Eleanor's granddaughters said that she will always remember her grandmother telling her to be conscious of the things and people around her, find the beauty in them, and create art.

The Book Thief was a deep mine of wisdom and an accurate commentary about the dual nature of man.  The narrator never revealed  his identity but for me he was Death itself.  Death had many memorable lines in the movie. One of them was this.

- Posted with Aloha
By ARIEL MURPHY

Getting out of the funk

I confess that I was out of whack most days recently.  I suspect that my depression may have something to do with Michael’s death anniversary last Tuesday.  Remembering  the events  leading to  the day Michael died is always inevitable.

Funny how easy it is to go into sadness. And we all visit that place at one time or another. All I have to do is call in the troops. That particular battalion is named Regret. 

Here’s the formula: Sadness1 + Regrets +Sadness2 = Depression.  So now you get the picture.
 

I felt better  the other day, Friday.  I always look forward to   Fridays and Saturdays, my dance evenings.    I’m a certified card-carrying danceaholic.  And I know that someday I just might be lucky  enough to be famous. I just might go down in history as  the originator of the 12 Steps for Danceaholics Anonymous!   One of those steps will require  using one’s hips to illustrate the number “8”.  In some places, this dance step is called “Ocho-Ocho.” So now you get the picture. :)

What? I’m delusional?

I’d rather call myself hopelessly optimistic. 

Now how did I come up with that oxymoron?

The dancing made me feel better last Friday.  Yesterday, something I saw  boosted my spirits more and a seeming affirmation that everything is working towards my highest good.   The flyer jumped right out at me from  Mara's post on Facebook . It was a needed reminder and my marching  orders.

I got out of my funk. And I am grateful.

 

 

 Posted with Aloha!

- ARIEL MURPHY

The Shaka sign

Hand signs are prevalent all over the world.  They are a universal language  quickly understood. Flash an upright index and middle finger and you're saying "peace." An upheld clenched fist is a sign of protest. And a thumbs down is an obvious "No."
 
There is a sign that perhaps not many know about,  especially those of you outside the US . Called the Shaka, the sign is associated with Hawaii and means to "hang loose" or to convey Aloha.  

Surfers visiting Hawaii in the 60s  noticed locals using the sign and quickly spread it to other places. In Brazil, the sign also means to "hang loose." In Asia, the sign is used to represent a Taoist concept of "going with the flow."
 
I saw the sign  the first time I visited Hawaii. While I was on the road I noticed motorists extending their hand out of their car window and flashing the sign to other motorists.  I thought it very cool.
 
During the parade celebrating his first inauguration as US President, Barack Obama noticed with surprise the  school band from his old alma mater, Hawaii's Punahou School, leading Hawaii's contingency in the parade.  Instinctively, President Obama  flashed a Shaka with a captivating smile quickly captured by photographers. 

Alhough I was merely watching the parade on TV, I  still couldn't help but brim with delight and pride at the President's unexpected reaction.  I was nearly completely sure that the rest of Hawaii felt like I did.

Shaka! Let's keep connecting.

Let's keep the love going!

 

US President Barack Obama flashing the Shaka sign during his first inauguration as President in 2009.  Photo source: google.com

 

FOR MORE INFO PLEASE CLICK ON THE FOLLOWING LINK:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaka_sign

 

Posted with ALOHA

- By ARIEL MURPHY

Michael Murphy III

It has been nine years Michael and I still miss you. Before you left, you said that you will be with me always. And you are.

Thank you for the time we were together and what I've learned through you.

Thank you for having been my husband.

A hui hou! Till we meet again!

 

 

Posted with LOVE

- By ARIEL MURPHY



Thoughts on Memorial Day 2015

Today is Memorial Day in the US. For readers of this blog who are from other countries,  Memorial Day is one of the most important holidays in the US and celebrated to honor all those in the US Armed Forces who died while in service to their country.

One of those I know who served in the US Army is my friend Ralph. During the Vietnam war, Ralph was a medic in the US army and survived two tours in Vietnam. After being at the forefront of war, Ralph went on to study at the University of California, Berkeley  where he avidly protested the Vietnam war in between pursuing his  Bachelor of Science Degree in Microbiology.

I cannot imagine how it feels being in the middle of a barrage of machine gun fire. I cannot imagine how it is not to know whether I will still be breathing by the end of a day of fighting.  I cannot imagine being a first-hand witness to the horrors of war.

But I can imagine easily that anybody who goes to the battlefield  and returns home alive  is never unscathed, be it physically or emotionally.  Not all wounds are visible just as not all wounds heal.

Some emerge from war forever damaged -- bitter, cynical, traumatized. Those fortunate, after having had first hand experience with carnage,  come out  of war with a great deal of wisdom and a compassion for others and a respect for life deeper than what they had before they left to fight.

Today on Memorial Day, I thank Ralph and others like him who laid their lives on the line and made unimaginable sacrifices fighting for our ideals of inalienable human rights, freedom and democracy.

Ralph in army uniform, 1967

 

 

At Phan Thiet, Southeastern Vietnam, 1968

 While a student at University of California, Berkeley in 1972 and protesting the Vietnam war

 

Posted with Aloha
- By ARIEL MURPHY