Remembering Infinity

Spirituality | Metaphysics | Consciousness | Life


Remembering Infinity: The Earth is our Home!

This beautiful field could be cluttered with trash, but it’s not. It’s beautiful because people chose to do the responsible thing—they didn’t litter here!

This beautiful field could be cluttered with trash, but it’s not. It’s beautiful because people chose to do the responsible thing—they didn’t litter here!

On this Earth Day, 2015, it’s critical that we all understand the effect we human beings have on our environment and do what we can, both individually and collectively, to support our Earth—for she is not just our home, she truly is our Mother.  Indeed, we too often lose sight of the fact that we depend upon her and her health for our very survival!  Our physical bodies are made from her natural elements, she provides us with oxygen to breathe, water to drink, and food to sustain us.  To deplete our natural resources and poison our own environment is ultimately to destroy ourselves.

That’s why I’m deeply grateful every time I see someone doing the right thing and acting responsibly instead of littering—that is, cleaning up after themselves, recycling, and depositing trash where it belongs, in a trash can. Unfortunately there are far too many people who don’t. They carelessly and selfishly toss their trash away anywhere, either leaving it for someone else to clean up or, even worse, just allowing it to pollute our environment and harm our wild neighbors.

I see irresponsible people dropping cigarette butts and wrappers everywhere, discarding their fast food containers in parking lots, allowing their plastic bags to blow away and collect on fences, and shoving piles of yard debris out onto our rural byways. Our waterways are clogged with clutter, our parks are defaced with graffiti, and our neighborhoods are plastered with signs promoting businesses, candidates for office, yard sales, and even rooting for teams in local sporting events.

It’s easy to feel angry, depressed, or disgusted when we see how little others care for or respect their neighbors and the world we all share but, in the end, that doesn’t solve anything. Instead, I’m learning to feel compassion for and forgive those who litter—for they don’t understand how their thoughtless acts and attitudes only harm themselves in the long run. They don’t understand that they will eventually learn, perhaps through karma, that their actions have consequences. Finally, they don’t understand how intertwined all life is—and that to harm others by littering or polluting is to ultimately harm oneself.

So now, when I start to feel disturbed by someone’s careless or disrespectful behavior, I try to remind myself that this life experience is only temporary. I try to remember that those responsible will one day be held to answer for their actions—and I’m grateful for the fact that I AM conscious enough that I may choose to behave differently. Then, if I’m able to help resolve the problem by picking up the trash and disposing of it properly myself, I do so. I consider it just one more opportunity to serve others and make a positive difference in the world. Otherwise, I offer the situation a silent blessing, forgive those responsible, and move on with a greater appreciation for the unique beauty of our Earth. Many times, I also envision myself in a more perfect world—one in which everyone truly appreciates one another and cares for our environment. It’s a world where nature is pure, unspoiled, and even more beautiful than it ever has been. And a dream like that really shouldn’t be that difficult to achieve if we are all willing to work together.

Now, if it just so happens that you are a “litterbug”, then please choose not to be! Just because we may be loved and forgiven by our Creator and others doesn’t mean there are no consequences for our choices and actions. In the end, we must all be held accountable for the things we do. So the next time we have a choice, let’s all make the best choice to do the right and responsible thing.  Let’s be sure to put trash where it belongs.  The Earth will thank you.  Your neighbors will thank you.  I will thank you.

There’s no doubt about it—when we take just a moment to make the right choices in life, everyone wins!



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Remembering Infinity: How Does Your Garden Grow?

In many ways, life is like a garden.

In many ways, life is like a garden.

Several weeks ago, I asked myself the same question that every gardener seems to ask him or herself each time the seasons change from one to another.  And as I looked out the back window at our patio, I was forced to admit that things didn’t look so great.  Our multi-year drought, mischievous dogs, and several windstorms over winter had left our yard in very rough shape.  Our shrubs were in disarray, most of last year’s plantings were dead, and dirt from our two large dogs’ various excavations was scattered all over the patio and its connecting walkway.

Inspired to action by the arrival of Spring and the sudden sprouting of new leaves and blossoms, I developed hasty plans to fence off several areas and plant new gardens in the protected spaces.  The design was such that it provided ample areas for me to plant, yet spaces remained for the dogs to run, chase squirrels, and even dig if they felt inclined to do so (and I’ve no doubt they will).

I spent several weekends sinking redwood posts in concrete, stapling rolls of wire fencing material to them, and hauling home sacks of manure, compost, mulch, and stone.  I arranged rocks, tilled soil, and removed last year’s spent plantings and debris—all in preparation for this year’s fresh new growth.  Finally, after much effort, I was ready to plant!  I took several trips to nearby nurseries, where I picked out a wonderful variety of flowering plants, bulbs, and seeds.  I spent the better part of three afternoons working barefoot and bare-handed in the warm sunshine, planting and arranging, arranging and planting.  As each phase of my plan unfolded, I’d sit back to study the bare patches of earth for a moment, dig an appropriately-sized hole in just the right spot, and gently tuck each infant plant or seedling in its new home.  Once everything had been carefully set in place, I watered the entire garden with a gentle shower from the hose.

With my work done for the day and for the most difficult part of the project complete, I sat down with a cold drink to enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells around me.  Birds flitted busily about, wind chimes tinkled gently in the tree above, and I breathed in the heady aromas of damp earth and flowers blooming.  The new plantings seemed small and tentative in their new spaces, but I could quite easily see their potential for a brilliant future—and I imagined and intended for it to be exactly that.

In many ways, I mused, our lives are just like gardens.  We imagine them.  We work hard to prepare a place for them, carefully plant seeds of thought and deed, and shower them with our Love and attention.  In the end, the condition of our garden is a living reflection of all the care and energy we devote to it.  To be sure, there’s always some pruning to do, a weed to be pulled here and there, or a dog to be shooed away, but with proper care, our reward can be a glowing, vibrant oasis of beauty, joy, and peace.

Silly me.  As I was lost in thought about gardens and life, I was interrupted by a slight commotion behind me.  I turned to see that one of my dogs had squeezed through a small gap in the fence and was sniffing about, exploring one of my new garden beds.  Leave it to her to figure out a way around my defenses!  Fortunately, I intercepted her and fixed the trouble spot before any significant damage was done.  I suppose it just goes to show that even the best laid plans aren’t always foolproof—or, in my case, dog-proof.

Since Spring is here, now is the perfect time for each of us to create new growth and constructive change in our lives and, indeed, in our world.  All it takes is a bit of inspiration, some dedicated effort, and some tender, loving, care.

Now that Spring is here, it’s a great time to ask ourselves that age-old gardener’s question—”How does your garden grow?”



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Remembering Infinity: Grandma’s House

We may find that "Heaven" is within ourselves—by simply opening our minds and hearts to its presence.

We may find that “Heaven” is within ourselves—by simply opening our minds and hearts to its presence.

This post is dedicated to my good friend Grace, at Amethyst Road and The Earth Plan.

One of my favorite places growing up was my paternal grandparents’ house.  One of many boxy row houses squeezed alongside one another in San Francisco’s Miraloma Park neighborhood, most of the homes were built there in the post-war 1940’s.  Their uniform stucco walls weathered the infamous San Francisco fog well and from their flat tar and gravel roofs or upstairs bedroom windows, the views of the Bay were absolutely spectacular—at least on those seemingly rare days when the sun actually broke through the gray.

Whenever my parents and I would come by for a visit or a weekend stay, I’d race down the walk between closely trimmed hedges, race up the painted concrete steps, and ring the doorbell next to the dark wooden door.  Grandma, plump and rosy-cheeked in her apron, would often be working in the kitchen when we’d arrive.  She’d greet us at the door with a delighted laugh, and as she dried her softly-lined hands on a faded tea towel, I’d rush in for one of the warmest and best hugs—ever!

The door would shut tight behind us with a solid thump and click, shutting out all the worries and cares of the outside world.  We’d cross the worn hardwood floor, pass through the dim, book-cluttered living room, and head straight for the kitchen. With its large windows, pale yellow paint, and bright vinyl tablecloth, the room was always warm, cheerful, and inviting.  On warmer days, the fragrance from Grandma’s favorite “Cecile Brunner” rose bushes would drift in through the open windows, along with the joyful song of her many backyard birds.

Grandma would put a pot of water on the stove to boil for the adults’ coffee or tea and bring down a package or two of cookies from the high cupboard above the oven.  Sugar cookies, iced raisin cookies, or chocolate chip “Angel” cookies—all were well-appreciated, especially when dunked in a glass of cold milk which, in those days, was still delivered to their doorstep in heavy glass bottles with little pop-out cardboard caps.

While the adults were catching up on the latest news and gossip, I’d usually excuse myself and go explore.  Sometimes I’d sneak down the squeaky wooden stairs and into the dark, cave-like basement, full of its electronics equipment and power tools.  Grandad, in addition to being an amateur radio operator, was well-regarded as an electronics “whiz”.  He took pride in being able to repair just about anything that had wires, transistors, or glass vacuum tubes in it—and every nook and cranny in the basement reflected it.  Every square inch, including the overhead rafters, was crammed full of saved parts and pieces from disassembled appliances or communications equipment.  Even though his work kept him away from home for long periods of time, his well-organized workbench always smelled pleasantly of melted solder, shoe polish, and his lingering aftershave.  Sometimes I’d just sit on the tall stool at his workbench and spin round and round, dizzily watching the basement rush by in a blur.

Since both my grandparents had experienced the difficult and “lean” times of the Great Depression and World War II, neither one threw much of anything away.  They saved just about everything, for they had learned that to throw something away was only to have need of it later.  And if the basement of the house was a collection of goods for posterity’s sake, the remainder of the house was much the same.  It was replete with dusty stacks of papers, books, magazines, and every manner of box and container.  Most of the rooms were stacked, floor to ceiling, with such treasures—all of them just waiting to be rediscovered by a snoopy youngster.  Closets, drawers, and creaky-hinged trunks were adventures in the making and, thanks to a rather active imagination, I had a grand time exploring undersea caves, jungles, and centuries-buried tombs.

But in addition to all my imagined adventures, there was another, even more important thing that I’ll never forget about Grandma’s house.  It was a truly special place that was filled with love. I always knew that, no matter what I had done or what might have happened since my last visit, at Grandma’s I was always forgiven and loved—completely and unconditionally.  I always knew that I was free to be, fully and unabashedly, me.

Now, many decades later, I know that in life—just like at Grandma’s house, we are always forgiven and loved by Our Creator.  And there’s no need to go anywhere or search afar to find our Home or connection with this Source either.  One only needs to look about with a sense of awareness, spiritual connection, and gratitude to realize that “Heaven” isn’t somewhere else.  It’s already here.  We simply need to open our minds and hearts to discover that it’s hidden deep within ourselves—right where it’s always been!

With Very Much Love,


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Remembering Infinity: April Foolishness

Laughter is all “fun and games”—until somebody gets hurt!

Laughter is all “fun and games”—until somebody gets hurt!

I used to love April Fool’s Day.  It was the perfect time to play a few pranks, tell a few jokes, or just clown around.  It was all “fun and games” until somebody (namely me) got hurt.  I know.  Much has been said about the value of laughter.  Indeed, it is often said that laughter is the best medicine.  But is laughter really all it’s cracked up to be?  When was the last time you saw “Laughter: 20 mg daily” on a prescription bottle?

Laughter hurts.  Seriously.

I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I’ve laughed so hard my sides hurt.  And have you ever laughed so hard you choked on a malted milk egg?  I have.  It’s not a fun time.  Then there was the time (at the tender age of eleven) when I had to undergo emergency surgery following an accident.  When my family came to visit me in the hospital after, I was so happy to see them, I couldn’t stop laughing.  I was literally and figuratively in stitches.  It hurt so bad they had to leave!  Oh, the agony.

But laughter isn’t just painful, it’s often embarrassing.  Have you ever burst out laughing over a whispered, private comment or a sudden, humorous thought at a socially awkward or inappropriate time, such as a funeral, solemn religious ceremony, or a job interview?  Polite, nervous laughter is one thing, but when a startlingly loud donkey snort slips out, it’s enough to make one want to crawl into a hole and die from disgrace.

And, where inopportune glee is a concern, I’d be remiss if I didn’t bring up the issue of laundry.  What does laughter have to do with laundry, you ask?  Apparently quite a great deal—if you’re over 50 or your mirthful exercises temporarily overrides your body’s ability to retain its solid or liquid waste products.  If you’re at work or school and nowhere near a washing machine, a department store, or otherwise unable to swap out your undergarments for a clean pair, laughter can make for an awfully uncomfortable afternoon!

Finally, what about those times when something strikes you as being just hilarious—and no one else in the room “gets it”?  Despite any half-hearted and fruitless attempts to explain your genius, all you get in return are lots of raised eyebrows, sideways looks, and the imagined sound of crickets echoing in the silence.  Heck, in some of the more serious laughing episodes I’ve experienced, someone thought I laughed at them, took offense, and nearly punched me in the nose!

No, laughter isn’t the cure-all some will say it is.  It’s a fickle, mean-spirited creature that will endear you with its joy one moment, then make you “shart” and mortify you in another.  Unless you’re willing to pay the consequences, take my advice—don’t engage in any form of hilarity whatsoever.  It’s all just too dangerous.

It’s nothing but April Foolishness!



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