I Dreamt it was My Funeral

I dreamt it was my funeral. I hid in the church and watched.

There was a sadness in the air. Tears in many eyes and a blankness in others.

I was also saddened as I tried to guess the memories I left behind.

To my wife.
To my children.To my friends and relatives.
To my colleagues.
To my town and country.
To society.

And then I thought,
What if?
What if, this and that, with all I came in contact?
What if to each their own gift?
What if I had lived giving more of myself?
What if I had fought the battles that should have been fought?
What if I had shared my gifts and talents with others?

Then perhaps this day and in this church, my parting gift to those in sadness, to those with tears and to those in blankness, would have been a bit of joy, of light, of wisdom, of selflessness, of love.

As I stood there, hiding, I realized regrets are the saddest memory one could have. A waste of time, of meaning, of life.

Such a waste ... and as with all waste, it is lost amid our mindlessness and can never be recovered.

I woke up, and here I am.

A Place Called Home

Do you know that place called home?

- Where nobility and honesty walk hand in hand
- Where harmony of life joins in ever flowing wonder
- Where loved ones are friends and friends are always true
- Where the light of God shines out, bright and true
- Where knights of old join hands and pray, and fight against injustice
- Where all in bravery and joy have a vision of peace, and the will to act

It is a secret place in our hearts, hidden behind misguided doors and dungeons of fear

Do you know this place?

- Where men and women are bonded in eternal love
- Where you and I, are We
- Where all are strong in bonds of love
- Where the light of day outshines the night
- Where suffering and hardship are taken lightly
- Where the strength within overcomes all fear
- Where the beauty of it all is our just reward

It is a secret place in our hearts, and souls, that expands in joy whenever it is found.

It is God's gift to all.

Healing Man

I went to the doctor. For most of my life I have suffered from headaches. Now I am an expert on these.

There are the subtle ones that begin at the back of my head and slowly increase upwards and in intensity. The ones that go from my right eye heading inwards. And the one that gives notice when my hand begins to get numb and then bursts out into an almighty whopper.

Anyway, he is Cuban and has lived here a short while. He also studied in Russia and in China.

He is a simple man who has a mission and works toward it.

He is not a the typical Western doctor, with all the western science backed by chemical assistance.

He is, above all a healer and he looks at those he will help as a whole, as a complete person.

Everything is interconnected, and his special talent is finding where the connections are broken or weakened.

We had never spoken and met only there and then.

Xocé (pronounced Jose) asked me to lie down and put my arms above my head. He held my wrists and pulled two or three times lightly.

Above my right thigh, on the side of my belly I have emotional scars he says. They were caused by two men, my father and my brother.

I turned and looked at him in the eye. My father, the man I have most admired and loved, died when I was fourteen; my brother, my emotional twin, died when I was sixteen.

The session lasted an hour and there were many other thing that I accepted without question. I have a very developed third eye. When I asked him how to develop it further, he just repeated it is developed - I just have to practice, meditating.

He has a gift and he uses it to help those who are willing to be helped.

Xocé has given me a list of natural herbs and medicines, as well as a diet. We are what we eat.

My body will recover its natural harmony that has shifted its balance due to emotional battles, by guilt, by hurt, by life.

My spiritual and mental balance will also get into line.

Xocé, a healing man. You have a lovely name and you are a beautiful person.