The Bliss Blog

The Bliss Blog

Love Can Heal The World



What if you knew that there was a Force on the planet, the emanation of which could cure, heal, save, adjust, free, re-rebuild lives? And furthermore, what if it was free as the wind and available to everyone?  Would you want it?  Would you keep it to yourself or would you share it?

The Highest Truth I know is that there is such an energy, that has all of those remarkable properties, it is free AND the more I share it, the more it expands and grows. Plain and simple; it’s love. Whatever you were taught about it, that it is limited, frightening, capricious, non-existent, painful, is erroneous. Like the Everlasting Gobstopper in Willy Wonka’s fantasmagorical factory, it never gets smaller and never can be finished. We might live in the illusion that love leaves when people do. I have found over and over that even when someone dies or if a relationship shifts, love doesn’t go anywhere. It may change form like water to ice and not always feel warm and fuzzy, but it is love nonetheless. Love is never wasted and the ripples of its expression spread, like a contagion beyond even those with whom you have immediate contact. Think of the movie Pay It Forward. One simple act of kindness touches more than just one life. If you smile at someone as you pass on the street, or allow someone to go ahead of you in the check out line at the supermarket, or through an intersection, it may make all the difference in their day and they may then be more conscious of how their next encounter could be pleasant rather than disheartening.


My career as a therapist/speaker/minister puts me in touch with people who often feel a lack of love. They wonder if they will ever be fully embraced and accepted in a world that seems like an icycle dripping from the eaves of a roof, with a pointy edge that could stab them if they were standing under it if it fell, or  at the least drip slowly on their heads, thus making them slowly freeze. I could (and likely would) ask them what it would take to move from under the frigid water, rather than turn into a human popsicle. Some might not move since they are so accustomed to living that way. What if, instead, they allowed themselves to be embraced, like the Prodigal Son (or daughter) being welcomed  back into the fold?  How weird might that be and also how welcoming?


Lately, with the trauma of this past Friday still harsh and raw in people’s minds and hearts, and the upcoming (and in some minds) portentuous date of 12/21/12, people feel jangly, on edge, deeply sad, numb, angry, uncertain and fearful…emotion soup is what I call it. We splash around in it and as the heat rises, so too do our emotions. What if we turned down the burner and let things simmer a bit and then decide how we want to ‘feed the collective soup pot’ with our emotions?  What would you want as an ingredient in the soup?  I would choose to spice it up with joy, fascination, play, delight, fun, silliness, bliss, of course, creativity, spontaneity and love.

Imagine if each us had our own spice can from which we could sprinkle, spoon or dump love on ourselves or others, whether they are already in our circle or a ‘stranger’, remembering that everyone you now know and love was once a stranger. I carry this around with me and use it at workshops and vendor fares, sometimes just whipping it out spontaneously and asking if people would like to indulge.


For today, for this moment, I invite you to envision a world embraced by love~ Imagine by John Lennon


Spiritual Colonic


In the past 72 hours, with the actions of a man who I won’t glorify or glamorize by writing his name, countless lives have been changed; some by death and some by needing to live with the consequences. Unless you are on a complete news fast, you are aware that a 20 year old young man entered the Sandy Hook Elementary School in the neighborhood of Newtown, Connecticut and cut a swath of destruction that swept away 26 lives including his own. The details are still not completely clear and we can only take wild guesses at the motivating force behind the act of violence. Attempting to wrap our minds around the loss of the wee ones who were the lights of the lives of their families, as well as the courageous teachers and principal who did their best to protect them and lost their own in the process, is an exercise in futility. As a therapist over the past 30 years who has served mental health consumers; some with paranoia, some with extreme anger issues, I have theories about the darkness that consumed him before he made a choice that sent ripples world wide.


We can debate about what snuffed out those innocent lives; weapons that were owned by his “gun enthusiast” mother, that this mentally imbalanced man had access to those which were used to kill her as well, or the fear and anger that had him pulling the trigger multiple times for each of his ‘targets’. We can cast blame on the system that allows for weapons of mass destruction to easily get in the hands of people bent on devastation; we can feel helpless when those with psychiatric illness don’t get the treatment they so desperately need. Or we can additionally heal our own hearts and the violent thoughts that permeate our collective psyhche’s and make peace with our own destructive mental meanderings. We can use our rhetoric in anger with clenched fists or we can join hands in unity and extend them in healing.


As do all tragic happenings, this one shook us to our core. Anyone with a heart, can feel it symbolically breaking. Even the most stoic or steadfastly spiritual among us, have had some emotional response. A few days prior, many of my friends have reported varying levels of anxiety with no direct or obvious cause. Keep in mind, that they tend toward the intuitive/psychic.  I have noticed the same, with rapid heart rate, a sense of hyper-vigilance, sitting and staring for moments at a time. So not me, since I like feeling productive and purposeful. Maybe just re-calibrating is what it is or preparing for this horrific event. My heart is with the families who will not see their children grow up or their classmates whose memories will be forever be imprinted by what they saw and heard. The good news is that people are rallying around them, as prayers and therapeutic interventions are swirling around them. I’ve read articles by mental health professionals, clergy and first responders who have ‘what to say’ advice to children who question what happened, as well as those who are grieving, regardless of age.


The gist of the articles is about comfort and not dismissing feelings, allowing for them to flow in healthy ways. Reassuring them that their emotional reactions are ‘normal’ and not a sign of illness. Spending more time together as a family. Supporting them in taking care of themselves physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.  Not spiritualizing away their feelings with statements such as “God needed another angel.”, which could frighten a child.

“How could God let this happen?” is a question that hammers at many people. I’m not convinced that God prevents or causes ‘acts of God’ as we humans are wont to refer to them. I believe in ‘life happening’ and sometimes these events are painful and inexplicable. They are like a spiritual colonic that flush us clean and shake us to our core. May they make us better and more loving people. And may we join hands in unity, rather than clench them in anger.





Illuminated Hearts

Photo: Silhouette of a person against a starry sky


Illuminated Hearts

In the depths of winter, the stars scatter across the pitch black expanse

Dancing with abandon, solo and in overlapping soul-circles

Like so many pirouetting, leaping, cavorting, frolicsome rhythmaticians

Beckoning earthbound journeyers to hurl their corporeal forms skyward

To join them in celestial celebration


Festivals of Light, ancient and abiding

Heralding the annual call of Pacem in terris

Candles aglow from the nine limbed menorah speak of limitless miracles


Star of Bethlehem welcomes the anointed one, who echoes that we are each that

With the Solstice, God & Goddess dance as one in the forms of the Great Mother & Sun Child.

Matunda ya kwanza-first fruits are honored as the seven candles of the kinara become luminescent


Held  in an ever growing circle of illuminated hearts

A primordial human desire to heal rather than harm

To merge rather than separate

To celebrate rather than desecrate

To practice tikkun olam-repair of the world

Planting the seeds in fertile soil

Blossoming  brilliantly

Whispering “love only” Wizards in Winter-Trans Siberian Orhestra


The Shack


This is the first time I have written about a book that I have not yet read, but I felt moved to comment on a link I followed to an interview with author Paul Young who penned the runaway bestseller called The Shack. Although Young’s spiritual orientation is Christian, my impression is that the metaphors in the book are universal. The storyline features Mackenzie (Mack) Phillips who is the father of five children. He takes three of them on a camping trip and his daughter is abducted and murdered. He then receives a note from someone called Papa who invites him to come to the shack were his little girl’s body is supposed to be. What ensues, has him meeting three emanations of the Divine which totally defy his previous beliefs about God.


Y0ung never in a million years expected for the book to become a phenom. He simply wrote it at the prompting of his wife Kim, for their six children so that they could read his take on his religious beliefs and world view. It was initially self published and his friends spread the word and it took off from there. I heard an interview on All Things Considered on NPR that aired recently. I was moved by the candor with which this man shared his creativity process, since writing is my life blood.

“I had this experience — and this was early when The Shack had just begun to take off — and I woke up in the middle of the night — and it’s never happened to me before and it’s never happened since — and I was literally caught in a waterfall. It’s like I was sitting up in bed in a waterfall of creative ideas. And about an hour into this I thought to myself, ‘I need to get up and write this down,’ and it all stopped. And I really felt “the voice.” You know, to me it’s the Holy Spirit, who just said, ‘Isn’t that what you always do? You don’t trust that creativity is a river,’ and I said you’re right, I don’t trust, and I said I’m not going to live like that anymore. And immediately the waterfall started again for an hour until I fell asleep. So every time I go to write, my first thought is: I trust, I trust that this is a river. And part of this is that I finally — I am 57 years old — I have finally got to the place in my life where I want to live just inside the one day’s worth of grace.”


I do trust the creative process and immerse myself in this waterfall daily. It has become friend and companion as I splash about, drink it in and allow it to flow over me. That same ‘voice'; quite gender neutral whispers in my ear as well and guides me with words, images and ideas. There may not be many things I know for certain in this lifetime, but one of them is most assuredly that I am guided toward the Highest Good. I have dwelled in my own shack of contemplation, solace, revelation and renewal. It is where I find my peace and grace as well.

Guess I gotta get the book now.

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