In balance, I find serenity.
When my life becomes too busy, I may lose my sense of groundedness. If I am overwhelmed, it can feel as though one foot is on solid ground while the other is on a boat pulling out to sea. I feel the urge to get my work done, while at the same time, I have a deep yearning to take care of myself. Turning within, I listen to my heart and pay attention to my needs.
I have enough time to accomplish what is mine to do. I allow myself to navigate comfortably between work and recreation. I give myself a break and find I have more energy when refreshed. With my life in balance, everything goes more smoothly. My work gets done more easily, and I am at peace.
You gave me a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip. —Psalm 18:36
Heaven and Earth
Chapter 8 Planetary Symphony
In the fallen state of consciousness, each human being functions in disregard of the song of Life that is going on in others. There is no harmony, no direction, no arrangement. You are like the random notes of an orchestra before the conductor unifies the instruments in symphony. The Grand Conductor is calling everyone to attention, calling now to remembrance of unity and purpose, reminding all that the time has come to stop tuning separate instruments and begin to accept the direction of One who understands the whole.
As you begin to pay attention to the direction of the Conductor within, you will begin to play to the rhythm of the Planetary Symphony, harmonizing with the others of your species and with all life. No longer will you think of yourself as being more or less important than anyone else. You will stop identifying with individual form and begin identifying with the collectivity of your being, the Spirit of Christ. Christ is the name that is given to Man once he has awakened out of the shadow of Matter. Christ is the name of the single, unified being that is the totality of collective human consciousness.
Read more . . . The Starseed Transmissions, Ken Carey
Field of Play
My Dad’s Seven-Point Creed
When I graduated from Centerton Grade School, Dad gave me a little card that he titled “7 Suggestions to Follow.” It was his graduation present to me. While he didn’t have much money, it wasn’t just a financial concern that prompted his gift but something else. James Russell Lowell wrote a poem that starts like this: “It’s not what we give, but what we share/ For the gift without the giver is bare.” Dad wanted to share something from his heart. This is what he wrote on the card, and, when he handed it to me, he gave a little wink of encouragement and said, “Johnny, follow this and you’ll do all right”: 1. Be true to yourself. 2. Help others. 3. Make each day your masterpiece. 4. Drink deeply from good books, especially the Good Book. 5. Make friendship a fine art. 6. Build a shelter for a rainy day. 7. Pray for guidance, and count and give thanks for your blessings each day. Those seven suggestions deeply influenced my behavior as the years went by. In fact, soon enough I was not calling them “suggestions.” For many decades I have referred to them as “Dad’s Seven-Point Creed.” All of them are important, but let me expand on one in particular.
Character and Integrity
Shakespeare wrote the following words in Hamlet: “This above all else: to thine own self be true.” It was the king’s consul, Polonius, offering fatherly advice to his own son, Laertes, before he returned to France. This same advice, worded differently, was the first of the seven suggestions my father gave me: “Be true to yourself.”
The Essential Wooden, John Wooden and Steve Jamison
The American Presidency
Given the Brexit conundrum in progress, the upcoming Presidential party campaign conventions, our soon to be July 4th independence celebration, and the anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg Abraham Lincoln distills wisdom and history in the Gettysburg Address.
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.