Just for a moment, take a few deep relaxing breaths
Picture yourself sitting in one of these chairs.....
toes wiggling in the sand..... the sound of the water.
Ahhhhh I am so there...Calm Sanctuary indeed.
This morning, I had the Today show playing in the background while I was at my computer. A segment of the show was talking about travel destinations. One that was talked about was Stephanie's Inn located on the Pacific coast of Oregon.
The story of Lopez Lomong is an absolute must read. !
I dedicate this post not only to Lomong and his ~ Spirit ~, but the
~ Spirit ~ thatLIVES in each and every one of us.
‘True Olympic spirit is often found away from gold medalists with their agents and sponsorship deals -- it is found in its purest sense in those that come last.’ (Agence -Presse- French News Agency)
Presumed dead in Sudan, Lopez Lomong lives American dream
Lopez Lomong, now the pride of Tully, N.Y., goes from war-torn homeland to representing U.S.A. in Beijing.
Twenty miles south of Syracuse and 6,000 miles west of East Africa, a freshly hung flag flies over the tiny town of Tully. It is on the pole in front of the high school, just beneath the American flag, a big white rectangle with five Olympic rings, a salute not so much to the Beijing Games that will commence next week, but to the Lost Boy who found a home and a life and an athletic calling, and who has made virtually everyone in his central New York state village proud.
The village of Tully has 924 residents and one traffic light, and one remarkable 1,500-meter runner, Joseph Lopepe (Lopez) Lomong, child prisoner turned feted Olympian. He will begin competing in Beijing on Aug.15.
"We've never had someone in the Olympics before, and we probably will never have another," says Eileen Baldassarre, a Tully resident whose sons are friends with Lomong. "This is huge, because...those of us who know Lopez know what a nice and generous kid he is."
Says Lomong, "I came a long way, for sure, from running through the wilderness to save my life, and now I am doing this for fun."
At 23, Lopez Lomong is a sinewy 5-11, 148-pounder and one third of perhaps the most intriguing team of 1,500 runners the U.S. has ever assembled, a melting pot on the move. The favorite for gold is Bernard Lagat, the defending world champion, who captured bronze and silver in the two previous Games, running for his native Kenya before becoming a naturalized U.S. citizen. The runner-up in the trials earlier this month was Leonel Manzano, a Mexican-American and two-time NCAA champion for Texas, whose father reportedly crossed the border 16 times before becoming a legal U.S. resident.
And then there is Lomong, a man whose journey has taken him from the southern Sudan village of Kimotong to a Kenyan refugee camp in Kakuma, to the lakeside home of Rob and Barb Rogers in Tully. He has seen kids in the next bed die, and has visited his own grave. Why wouldn't he savor his Olympic achievement? "This is America, this is the land of everybody," Lomong says.
Lomong's story has been well chronicled, a fact that makes it no less chilling. At age 6, while attending Mass with his family in Kimotong, he and some 50 other children were taken at gunpoint by a government-backed militia in Sudan's long-running Civil War, hauled off in a tarp-covered truck to a work camp. After several weeks, three older boys found a hole in a fence, escaped the camp and brought Lopez with them, walking for three harrowing days through woods and wilderness, before stumbling into Kenyan border guards.
For the next 10 years, home for Lopez - one of the so-called Lost Boys of Sudan - was a a sprawling Kenyan refugee camp, where meals consisted of U.N.-provided corn and came once a day. Soccer provided about the only respite from the bleakness and boredom. The notion of anything better scarcely occurred to him until late summer of 2000.
Lomong earned five Kenyan shillings (about seven cents) for moving some dirt. He didn't spend it until he heard it could buy him a chance to see the 2000 Olympics on a black-and-white TV.
Lomong and a few friends walked five miles to see the Games. He came away mesmerized by Michael Johnson, running the 400 meters.
He prayed that God would give him a chance to do something similar. "I saw him run so fast and I said, 'I want to run just like that,'" Lopez says.
A year later, shortly after 9/11, an international relief effort began to place the Lost Boys in American homes. Lomong wrote an essay describing his ordeals. Rob and Barb Rogers, devout Christians, saw a notice in their church bulletin one Sunday that Catholic Charities was looking for foster parents for the boys.
Before long, 16-year-old Lopez Lomong was on his way to Hancock Airport outside Syracuse. He was shocked when the Rogerses met him in their car. "He walked to the airport (in Kenya), and assumed he'd walk from the airport (here)," Rob Rogers says.
Lopez was awed by the breadth and asphalt splendor of Interstate 81, by electricity and running water. He enrolled at Tully High, became a cross-country and track star, before moving on to Northern Arizona, where he grew into an NCAA champion. Lomong's American adventure was just beginning, and it was for the Rogerses, too; they have since taken in five more Sudanese boys.
Rob Rogers buys and sells heavy equipment, while Barb manages the 27 apartments they own, and runs their laundromat, Suds and Bubbles. Uncertain about how a virtually all-white community would receive their adopted Sudanese sons, the Rogers have been heartened by the whole experience. Apart from a single nasty epithet written by two high school kids - an incident that aroused the ire of almost the entire school - the embrace has been universal.
"We thought we'd be in the 'out' crowd, and now we're in the 'in' crowd," Rob Rogers says, laughing. He pauses and talks about how life has changed since Lopez made the Olympic team on the night of July 6 - exactly a year after he gained his U.S. citizenship. He did it with a bell-lap charge that carried him from sixth to third, balky ankle be damned.
"The highlight of my life is telling CNN I couldn't talk because HBO was here," Rogers says.
At Christmas time last year, Lomong went back to Kenya and Sudan for HBO's "Real Sports" program, which was doing a segment on him. He reunited with his birth mother, Rita, and his younger brothers. He even visited the grave his family made for him, certain that he was dead. It was a small pile of stones that contained a necklace and childhood keepsakes. They happily took the pile apart.
"They brought me to life again," Lomong says.
Thanks to a Tully-wide fundraising effort spearheaded by Eileen Baldassarre, more than $13,000 has been collected to send Rob and Barb Rogers to Beijing, along with Jim Paccia - Tully High's track coach - and his wife, Cheryl. Rob Rogers got in the Olympic spirit almost immediately after watching Lopez make the team, ordering an Olympic flag and banner on the Internet for $68. The banner is on the front door, the flag flying in the front yard. His foster son, Lopez Lomong, a Lost Boy no longer, will soon be surrounded by the best runners in the world. He will race hard, and whatever happens, he will be powered by gratitude, and unencumbered by fear.
"This is payback for the people who helped me through my childhood," Lomong says. "Now I am running for America. I'm an American citizen and I can go out and compete. I'm so thankful."
Former 'Lost Boy' leads U.S. team as
Beijing welcomes the world to China
(Photo - Pretty/Getty)
Lopez Lomong, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan, leads Team USA into Beijing's national stadium.
" When we were in Africa, we didn't know what was there for us as kids--we just ran. God was planning all of this stuff for me, and I didn't know. Now I'm using running to get the word out about how horrible things were back in Sudan during the war. Sometimes these things are not on CNN, so if I put out the word, I hope people can get the information. Right now, similar terrible things are going on in Darfur; people are running out of Darfur, and I put myself in their shoes."
The Save Darfur Coalition's mission is to raise public awareness about the ongoing genocide in Darfur and to mobilize a unified response to the atrocities that threaten the lives of two million people in the Darfur region.
Patricia shares about a book she is reading, I Had It All the Time written by Alan Cohen....
In Patricia's words....
'What it took me years to realize and what this book says is, 'I had it all the time.'
'I spent years running here and there, reading this book, watching that video on self-improvement. According to Alan Cohen's book, I didn't have to do any of that searching. I already had it; I just didn't know it. All I had to do is remember who I really am.'
Patricia's post started me thinking about the many online articles I have read by Alan Cohen. Cohen has an easy, endearing style to his writing.
THANK YOU Patricia AND Alan !!! I have no complaint whatsoever.
The story is told about a woman Zen master named Sono who taught one very simple method of enlightenment. She advised everyone who came to her to adopt an affirmation to be said many times a day, under all conditions. The affirmation was, 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'
Many people from all arenas of life came to Sono for healing. Some were in physical pain; others were emotionally distraught; others had financial troubles; some were seeking soul liberation. No matter what their distress or what question they asked her, her response was the same: 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'Some people went away disappointed; others grew angry; others tried to argue with her. Yet some people took her suggestion to heart and began to practice it. Tradition tells that everyone who practiced Sono?s mantra found peace and healing. 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'
My friend Lisa, an attractive woman in her late 30?s, came to one of my seminars after I had not seen her for a number of years. She informed the group that a year earlier she had been diagnosed with a brain disorder that required immediate surgery. The surgery was done, a steel plate was inserted in her head, and her doctor keeps her under close observation. Lisa reported that now she lives from day to day. Privately I told Lisa that I was sorry she had gone through this whole ordeal. "Oh, don?t be sorry," she told me emphatically. "I?m not sorry at all. This was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. It really got me to appreciate my life and relationships. I married a wonderful guy and we are thinking about having children. I wouldn?t trade the experience if I could.' 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'
Can you imagine what your life would be like if you simply dropped your complaints? It's a radical proposal, since most of us have been trained to question, analyze, and criticize everything we see. But then we end up questioning, analyzing, and criticizing ourselves. Then we miss out on joy, the only true measure of success.
The ecstatic mystic poet Hafiz proclaimed, 'All a sane man can ever think about is giving love.' One evening I received a phone call from my friend Cliff, a Jewish guy from Brooklyn who discovered A Course in Miracles and became a world-class love exuder. Cliff just went around finding good and beauty in everyone he met. On the phone, Cliff told me, 'I just called to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.'
'Well, thank you Cliff,' I answered, delighted. 'I really appreciate that . . . What prompted you to call me at this moment?'
'My knee was hurting me, and I knew that the only way I could feel better would be to give more love. So I began to think of the people in my life who I care about, and you came to mind.' 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'
As we approach the holiday of Thanksgiving, many of us will be getting together with our families. Perhaps family issues may come to the fore and we might be tempted to fall into a pattern of rehashing old resentments and arguments. Wouldn?t it be fabulous if, as we sat with our relatives, we held in mind, 'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.' Imagine what this Thanksgiving would be like if we decided that no matter how much mom complained about dad; how much dad bugged us about getting a real job; or how unspiritual our ex is, we chose to be an unstoppable appreciation machine and found the good in our loved ones. Indeed this would be a triumphant Thanksgiving to remember!
Yes, I know, there is a voice inside you objecting, 'But if I did not complain, people would walk all over me and selfish opportunists would genetically manipulate my food and terrorists would keep crashing airplanes into buildings and . . ., . . ., and. . . . Got it. Now if you went to Sono, her response would be,'Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever.'
I am simply suggesting that we practice the mantra for an entire Thanksgiving day. And then maybe one day a week. Then we might start to feel so good and our lives will become so effective that we want to turn every day into Thanksgiving.
In my book Handle with Prayer I state that the highest form of prayer is gratitude. Instead of asking God for stuff, start thanking God for stuff, and you will find that God has already given you everything you could want or need, including the adventure of discovering more riches every day.
Life is a big treasure hunt. Eventually we grow weary of seeking treasures outside ourselves, and we begin to look within. There we discover that the gold we sought, we already are. The beauty we overlooked because we were focusing on what was missing, still lives and awaits us like an anxious lover. As T.S. Eliot nobly noted, 'The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.'
Thank you for everything. I have no complaint whatsoever. Have a great Thanksgiving.
"Richard Bach takes to the air to discover the ageless truths that give our souls wings: that people don't need airplanes to soar...that even the darkest clouds have meaning once we lift ourselves above them... and that messiahs can be found in the unlikeliest places--like hay fields, one-traffic-light midwestern towns, and most of all, deep within ourselves."
The 192 page paper back edition opens with this line...
"There was a Master come unto the earth, born in the holy land of Indiana, raised in the mystical hills east of Fort Wayne...."
What I am planning on doing is blogging, in no particular order, a few quotes every now and then from the book ....
'Your only obligation in any lifetime is to be true to yourself.
Being true to anyone else, or anything else is not
only impossible, but the mark of a false messiah.'
"I, Robert _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the
officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
I have no idea at all when Robert said these words, but I do know when the 24 year old took his last breath on this Earth. That was on July 15, 2007 while on duty in Baghdad, Iraq.
I also know the month and year he took his first breath........March of 1983.
Since March 24th of this year I have signed every guestbook of our Fallen Heroes on the day they passed. To date, I have met 1631 of America's finest men and women. Hmmmmmmmm I did say met. Might sound kind of strange since they are all dead. Before I actually add my message, I read through the previous posts. Sometimes I will even go on the net and try and find out more about the person. I can actually ~feel~ them with me. They reach out and I hear a THANK YOU. They know exactly what it will mean to their family and friends to know ... They are not forgotten.
My nearly 12 year old Kevin asked me the other day........
'Mommy, why do you do this when it makes you cry' ?
His question came in response to seeing me tear up over an email I read. That email was from Robert's sister.... This is what she wrote me....
'How beautiful, I am Rob's sister and this has given me so much reason to hold my head up and know my brother is at peace. This words have meant more to me than you will ever know. God Bless you and thank you from the bottom of my heart. The world needs more people like you.'
I tried my best to explain to my son what my tears were about. I think my explanation fell a bit short for his young mind to grasp.
Having had my Air Force son Vince, serve over in Iraq, I know we could have lost him over there. But I hope sharing the words of his sister, one year after his death helps shed some light on why I do what I do.
I thank you my dear readers for understanding WHY I am not posting here as often as I used to. :)
Stop right now, and grab a post it note, or an index card Or some piece of paper. On that paper write the word – tone
Okay….. you read that line and thought… ‘I’ll do it later’.
No……. please DO IT NOW. Smile
Have you ever walked around a grocery store and you keep meeting the same person in every isle ? This happened to me last week as my son and I were out shopping. I would turn the corner and there was this family of 4. A father, mother and 2 girls. I would guess the children’s ages to have been about 12 and 10. The family might not have stayed with me over these several days since I kept running into them in the isles had it not been for the negative, hostile and derogatory tones in which the parents were speaking to one another.....and now they haunt me.
If I had the ability to secretly video tape this family those adults might be shocked at seeing and hearing themselves in the manner in which they behaved.
Toneis the use of pitch in language to distinguish lexical or grammatical meaning— that is, to distinguish or inflect words.
~ Be Aware of your tone ~
As a parent, I have used the one word reminder – tone – many times over to my children.
It’s really quite amazing, but we would never think of speaking to a stranger in just quite the ‘tone’ that we flip off to those nearest and dearest to us.
So…….. please go now and post the word tone someplace around your home as a reminder for yourself.
