Gratitude. Presence. Spirituality.

Haven't posted in awhile. Life happens. 2020 is different, though. We've faced a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic. America has lost almost 180k lives to it. Our president has failed us. He's about to be voted out in a few months. There's been racial unrest with rioting, protesting and over-policing, which just fuels more of it. We're about to see history unfold as two potential hurricanes form in the Gulf at the same time. California is largely on fire and I'm facing the move of a lifetime. Life happens was kind of a muted understatement :)

But here we are nearing the peak of hurricane season. I'm no longer living on the Gulf coast so I'm well out of harm's way. I find myself at my Dad's house in Indiana, starting week three. This is supposed to be my transition to Colorado. I feel as if I'm in a holding pattern.

Even with all the unrest and upheaval this year has thrown at me, particularly the last 5-6 months, I'm relatively peaceful and calm. Facing the negativity and ritualism of my father, I'm relatively positive and making progress.

How is this possible?

Gratitude. Presence. Spirituality.

I've found a path to more mindfulness, more peace, by looking inward and diving below "the unconscious mind," as Eckhart Tolle likes to say. He's my spiritual guru. I've digested more of his videos in the last month than I can count. He preaches presence and getting past the clutter of "the thinking mind." It has helped me a lot. I'm finding a spiritual discipline that didn't exist in my past life as a seeker of Truth.

I mentioned my father's ritualism. He's part of the tribal cult of religion. He believes the Bible to be the inerrant word of God. For him, it paints a picture of God's design and dominion over humankind, the earth and it's history. He trusts that the spiritual, dare I say mythical, guide book was transcribed by men who were mere conduits for the voice of the divine. It's as if God couldn't write it all down for us, as he did for Moses on the mountain, so he began with the Old Testament scribes, and they captured it precisely and perfectly as God intended. No errors, no omissions or translations. Purely the essence of God's wisdom captured in a man-made book.

That's the biggest myth of fundamental Christianity. But Dad's faith is built on that, so I have to allow him his beliefs. He doesn't want to hear otherwise. There's no room for debate.

Take Creation v. Evolution, for instance. He doesn't believe there is room to believe that God set into motion the evolutionary process that took millions of years and still continues to this day. No, the myth says that there was a literal creation that took place thousands (not millions) of years ago and it happened in a literal week. You know, because God is bound by time and space and put "himself" on a tight deadline. The book says it, so it is so. No wiggle room.

Where I diverge from his ritualism is that I see the Bible as a book of myths and stories pointing to a larger Truth. The same Universal Truths we find in other spiritual guidebooks and paths--from Eastern to Western cultures and religions. I don't believe in God's will superimposed over history, or that "he" spoke the Bible into existence and men merely transcribed what they heard, as if on dictaphone. On the contrary, I believe the oral tradition passed down for generations to Abraham, Moses and Jesus, were largely based on myths, like the story of creation. It helped to make sense of the world to nomadic, tribal people in times before the written word. The Bible, then, is man's writing of history to explain the why questions. Once the oral traditions and ancient myths were captured in writing, it's like they were set in stone...by God. But it's humankind's way of explaining the unexplainable God, not the other way around. The myths point to larger Truths, like guideposts. That's why I see spiritual writings as guides and not rulebooks.

Religion, tribalism and ritualism seem rooted in ancient times. Truth is transcendent. That's why you find kernels of it in all religions. There are enough similarities in the major religions to see a pattern and to be able to discern the essence of the divine.

I guess it comes down to having a more humanist view of God than a deist one. I began years ago, and it's documented in this blog, seeing the divine in other human beings. I look for it there. Even Jesus said we'd find him when we helped others--fed them, clothed them, gave them a drink of water. I think that is God finding God. We have the divine spark within us. That's not blasphemy or heresy. That's in Jesus' own teaching. It's evident in a lot of spiritual writings. It's what Tolle calls our "essence," part of "the Universal Consciousness." I don't care what you call it, that resonates with me.

Getting in touch with who I really am at my core--my essence--is where I find the most transcendent peace, or what Jesus called "peace that passes understanding." To get there, I have to escape the clutter of my non-stop thinking mind. I don't have to make sense of the totality of life or how we got here. The why questions are becoming less and less important. I'm finding a new ability to let what is just be. It is what it is. I'm not playing some karmic game with fate or God. I'm finding peace in presence. I'm also finding more gratitude for what is, for abundance, for blessing in my life--deserved or undeserved, I no longer place a value on it. Let's face it, the blessings in my life are invaluable. That's why I recognize it as abundance. And the same goes for trials and challenges--they don't come as retribution for past sins or where I may have misstepped, taking that zig when I should've zagged. That's more judgment and attributing the minutia of life to God-level consciousness. God's not up there playing a game of chess with me. No, as I said at the start of this post, "life happens." It's how we deal with the unexpected complexities of life that matters most.

So far, I've survived 2020. I haven't gotten infected with the COVID-19 virus, to my knowledge. The one test I had done came back negative four weeks ago. I haven't succumbed to the panic over the viral pandemic that went global back in Dec/Jan timeframe, but only really grabbed our full attention in late March. I didn't die from homelessness. I survived much of this year with my girls--my lifeline. I found some new meditation practices that have become part of my daily spiritual discipline. I've actually used this year of upheaval to grow and adapt.

This blog post really focused on spirituality and religion, but that's only because I've been smacked in the face with my ritualistic past because I'm living with "old me" in the form of my Dad. I love him dearly. I'm just glad I evolved past his tribalism and stranglehold on the Truth. We've largely avoided discussions on this topic, to my great surprise (and with great effort on my part). I don't discuss politics for the same exact reason. My sanity is largely in-tact, but not just because we've avoided these hot-button issues, but because I continue to practice gratitude.

Here's what that looks like in the mornings--
I'm often up before sunrise, as I am today (typing this at 4:36 a.m.). I'll take my freshly brewed Cuban coffee outside (weather permitting) and greet the sunrise with gratitude. I might thank the Universe for the sun's energy, it's life-giving and sustaining force, it's warmth, it's light. It's really that simple. I don't take everyday things, like the sun coming up over the eastern horizon, for granted. I say thank you...to God, to Life, to the Universe, the planet...I am grateful. I might, then, turn my attention to the things that thrive on photosynthesis like the grass under my feet (I try to ground myself, barefoot, to the Earth) or the plants and trees around me. There's an abundance of life all around me, so that even if I didn't have a penny or a roof over my head, I could still be grateful for abundance. There is abundant life on this planet that we just happened to be fortunate enough to be born onto. I'm grateful for that...for life on Planet Earth. Then I bore down into more personal areas, like my health, my daughters, my family, etc. It's really not that difficult. I try to start everyday with gratitude. I absorb the positive energy of the sun (which I can do even when it's not visible, on cloudy, rainy days) and try to radiate that positivity outward, in the form of considering and praying for others. If the focus is merely inward, it's not really gratitude, it's narcissism. I want to be a blessing on the Earth and vibrate on a higher frequency than I ever have before. I am noticing a difference in just a few weeks of practice.

Ok, I've rambled on long enough. Peace, my friends. Be blessed.

The New Slavery in America (and at Florida State)

Two and one half years ago Steve Siebold contributed an article to the Huffington Post, "NCAA's Football Slavery Scheme." And since then the NCAA has opened the gates for pay-for-play in Division I College Football, so you might ask the relevancy of this post?



Well, yesterday in Tallahassee, we nearly saw a player revolt on Florida State's campus. In this highly charged atmosphere of civic unrest due to police brutality and social injustice in the wake of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd lynchings, the players dared to speak out against their coach. Ultimately, it led to a team meeting that brought peace and understanding and resolution. But it took a Twitter-storm by upset players to get there.

In the midst of this brewing storm, white Seminole fans got stirred and took to Facebook and other social media. I also posted to a Seminole fan page on FB and watched as all the cockroaches came scurrying from the darkest reaches of the Florida State fanbase. I knew they would. I'd seen it before.

Back in 2015, during all the Jameis Winston fallout, they were all feasting on the corpse of a strawman, a black strawman, but a false narrative, nonetheless. It seems like any time a black athlete at our University does anything to ruffle the white Establishment, they are ready to lynch the poor kid. It was true of Jameis in 2015, and yesterday, it was true of Marvin Wilson after his tweet started the firestorm. Again, it was quelled by yesterday afternoon, but I'd like to reflect on the space in between, when white Seminole Nation seemed at odds with black Seminole Nation.

I tried to side with the players when I took to social media. I retweeted Marvin's angry tweet where he called bullshit by way of an emoji. I commented on the FB page, "they're not going to sit quietly on the plantation anymore!"



This got the white fan base stirred. I was, in fact, called a "pot stirrer," a "race-baiter" and a "racist." The second comment in the photo, above, was liked 4 times on this thread and umpteen times on another, by 99% black Seminole Nation. I think one white or Latino fan liked it overall.

Because our black fanbase get's it. The plantation mentality is REAL in college football. And maybe you just can't relate because you're not a POC. Maybe you're willfully choosing ignorance, like so many in white Seminole Nation.

I'm labelled a racist because I see it and I call it out, like I did in 2015 and again now.

Think about it, though. Poor kid in the South, allured onto the new slave ship, the USS College Recruiter, by a smooth talking Overseer/Coach who wants to get maximum results from his unpaid worker.

This is the point in the analogy where whites start yelling the loudest. "UNPAID?!?!? What do you call tuition, room and board?" To which, I simply say, plantations had slave quarters, too. Their workers were fed and looked after. I mean, they were worked in the summer heat until they fell out and some died (have you seen two-a-days in August in Tallahassee?). They were put in harsh, combative situations, where they got whipped and brutalized (have you watched contact sports much?). "But the tuition, the education..." and I nod to that as an in-kind contribution, but it hardly seems a pittance for many reasons, including:

1) These kids will risk life and limb to perform for it;
2) If one of them falls out or dies, they are quite literally replaceable ("next man up"); and will their families be compensated for that loss of a dearly loved young adult?;
3) Most of them have sights on an NFL contract, followed by a TV, coaching or consulting contract;
4) College degrees aren't quite worth what they used to be, about the value of the paper they're printed on

I could go on, but why belabor the point? To many of these kids, a college degree won't help them in life. They aren't striving to be doctors, though some of them will be (nod to Neurosurgeon Dr. Myron Rolle). They aren't striving to be lawyers, playwrights or CEOs, though some will succeed at those things, too. A great number of them are hopeful to take that leap to professional sports, here at home in the NFL, or in the Canadian or European leagues, or even as coaches. Some, like Neon Deion Sanders, will create a brand image and capitalize on it BEFORE going onto a second or third career. They might even achieve his legendary status as a Hall of Famer. Do they need a college degree for any of that? NO, not really. So for #3 above, the argument about "free education" doesn't hold any weight. Also, see #4. So save me your crocodile tears over their amateur status and being paid by the plantation to be there. (Side note: these kids get a free education all their life up until the 13th grade. Why does it stop there? Why is college so out of reach for most of these kids? It should be a free education regardless of athletic ability, but that's fodder for another post).

Paying these players actual cash, while still a pittance, is a baby step OUT OF the plantation system of American College Football, but it doesn't erase it's thriving existence for nearly a century. And white denial of it's existence is just as futile and pointless.

The fat cats who own and run these plantations have gotten insanely rich for decades. Their black workers were expected to be happy in their slave shack dorms. Come eat at the table, we'll take real good care of ya! Now get out there and run that ball to the end of that field...

In Tallahassee, I've watched as the cotton field named after a former white coach, Doak Campbell, has transformed from an erector set in the 80's to the palatial brick fortress it is today. It's truly impressive, but every last brick in what was in the early 90's the largest masonry job in America, has an athlete's name on it, most of them black men who never made a dime in the NFL/CFL/Pro Sports. Much like our great country, that brick behemoth was built on the backs of black men. The Overseer who's given a posh office in that fortress is also put up in Tallahassee's finest, gated neighborhood. He's given a massive contract and all kinds of additional perks. His workers are put 2-to-a-room in what until recently were trailer-level apartments, walking distance from the fields. Still don't see the analogy coming into focus?

Then, I feel for you whitebread. Must be nice to have such a skewed vantage point from your ivory tower.

I guarantee you lots of my friends in black Seminole Nation see it this way. And it's been this way for FAR TOO LONG! Yesterday, as the cockroaches scurried out from their hiding places, brave keyboard warriors that they are, their evisceration of black athletes who dared to speak out on social media shows you who wants that plantation mentality to remain unchecked. I see you closeted racist--you who called for these 'ingrates' to be kicked out of the program. Our program and the whole of Seminole Nation would be a lot better off without YOU! Period.