The Second Half (Audio)

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Calling

I have skills

I have intelligence

I have proven courage

I am creative and imaginative

I have an easy way with people

I am moderately attractive

I am strong in action

I have access to resources

I am healthy

I have led

I have followed

I am experienced

Yet I sit

I am not lazy

I am accustomed to work

But now even marking white screen with black symbols is an effort

To what end

An act of faith, or a shot in the dark

I have

I have

I am

I am

Yet it all seems a mask, paper mache

Wire, paper, glue and hollow inside

Or perhaps a game played but no longer interesting

I seek a calling

A reason

A vision to manifest

A vocation to which I will submit the second half

A new reality on which to focus what I have and who I am

That I may be remade, renewed, restored, and redeemed

I want to be alive before I die

In submission to the true calling of my Soul

I will find my freedom

Time (Audio)

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March 9, 2013 Life coaching time Milind Jadhav

Time marks the experience of living outside of eternity. the Now.

There are eternal moments which break into time.

Sacred, holy moments.

The experience of time is not living.

It is a consciousness of not.

Perhaps that consciousness is the first signal that one has been disengaged from the flow of the Eternal.

To say that time has flown or that time is dragging is to say that the eternal Now has passed or is longed for.

(Need some jazz behind this one) Groovy

The Boy – The Man (Audio)

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I recall a memory that was etched like a holograph somewhere in me.

It has popped up recently like Princess Leia did when Luke touched R2D2.

It was dark.  I was a little boy alone in a new house, a new room.

I remember the boy trying to find his way in the dark of a strange place.

I remember the tiny cautious footsteps.

I remember my small hand reaching out in the darkness.

Tentative fingers outstretched seeking feedback from a wall,  some furniture, anything.

He needed something to help him get his bearings.

I remember the boy’s initial confidence being replaced by a growing and gradual anxiety.

It started at the base of his throat and spread up and down through his shoulders, chest, and belly.

It was not the strangeness of the house or the darkness that made him doubt.

It was the not knowing that terrorized his heart.

His heart learned fear in that space between his little brave heart’s reaching out and the wall that led him back to the familiar.

That was a long time ago but I remember.

Perhaps I have stored that memory for such a time as now,

The context is different perhaps but the terror is the same.

The hopeful part of the story is that the little boy, thumb in mouth, pressed on in spite of his trembling.

Perhaps the man will find a way to do the same.

Stay Groovy 🙂

Soap Bubbles on the Wind (Audio)

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How can I form the words?

What shape would they take?

Like a child I repeat the words of others.

I have no words of my own to capture and hold the content of my heart.

Like soap bubbles on the wind my thoughts emerge and float and burst.

They have dimension, glisten in the light, and wobble in the air,

Then Pop, at the slightest disruption of their tenuous presence.

I am in ferment.

Dumb, I am without speech.

There is only longing.