This is a handmade mosaic table of the Tree of Life we bought while in Jordan last month. It was made at a mosaic center employing disabled artists. A program created by the Queen of Jordan trains disabled adults for years to work with mosaics then places them in artist centers to create stunning pieces by hand and with naturally occurring rock colors.
As soon as we heard this description, I knew we were going to buy something there. Then the kicker, all taxes and shipping back home are covered by the Queen. Wow! I thought, then quickly realized that just meant all of that is built into the prices.
My wife Lori called me over saying she loved this table. I said, great, get it. She asked the price, and in my multi-country, currency-confused, vacation high it didn’t really connect with me. I recall it seemed expensive, but was glad to support this place and international travel always makes me realize how fortunate I am. I saw a wall piece depicting Petra that I liked and said we want that too.
Petra mosaic
Our guide came over to help negotiate a lower price, which was still high, but I was strong with my decision since Lori really liked it. It didn’t hit me until later how much it cost. The entire place seemed very excited we were buying the table. They gave Lori extra gifts of some Dead Sea mud products and sent a big box of cookies to our bus as a thank you.
Regret was quickly building as somehow I heard hundreds when it was actually thousands.
For the rest of the trip, I secretly hoped my credit card would reject it, or the table would be lost in shipping. The table became a symbol of my stupid decisions and short-sightedness. For the rest of the trip, I joked about not buying other things by referencing the world’s most expensive table waiting to join us back home. “The table” became an ominous thing bringing financial ruin and doom.
We were home for two weeks before it arrived.
When it did show up, I felt even more like an idiot. Not only was it the most expensive table I’ve ever owned, but I’m also pretty sure its the most expensive piece of furniture we’ve have ever had. Which may seem outlandish or point to the fact that I’m pretty cheap when it comes to home furnishings.
Yesterday, I was home alone looking at it and decided instead of having this bad joke of a decision haunt me; I was going to forever see this table as a symbol of my wealth and abundance. The Tree of Life always brings more. More growth, more fruits, more fuel. I’m more than worthy of a beautiful, handmade, mosaic table – especially if my wife wants it. 🙂
With all due apologies to Shakespeare, that is the real question. At least it is for me.
I already am a being. I already am being, so nothing to question there. But, am I ready and willing to be more?
One of my daily rituals is asking what my purpose is. This morning I received one of the shortest answers I’ve ever gotten. To be more.
The simplicity of that purpose felt refreshing and freeing. I’m often looking for exact things to be, actions to take, missions to be a part of. Sometimes it can leave me feeling like whatever I’ve done so far hasn’t been correct or I’ve missed my best opportunities. If I keep asking the question, I must not know my purpose.
I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime battling thoughts of not being enough. You can insert any word before enough too; young, old, thin, fat, smart, rich… With my history of tormenting, self-judgment, and depressive thinking, can I feel I’m enough to enjoy myself and my life right here and now and ALSO be willing to be more?
Can I be more of a good person, an authentic man, a loving partner, a caring friend, an open-hearted healer, an inspiring writer and speaker, a more empathic human… Can I be more of the of the Love and the Light I experience in meditation and healings? Yes. I’m sure of it.
Life is about more. Change is the only constant in life.
In working with the Akashic Records, a common message is that there is more, we are entitled and worthy of more.
More is good.
More is expansive.
More is progress.
The universe is expanding at an accelerating rate because we, all of us human beings, are expanding too. I don’t mean our waistlines. I’m referring to our expansive desires, thoughts, goals, and actions. So you could say that we all have a very important role; to keep being more so that the universe continues to grow.
I believe our potential is unlimited. I think we can all be more, without it being an indictment of where we are currently. Pursuing more doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with this moment. Wanting more doesn’t mean you aren’t enough right now.
The challenge, for me and many others I meet, is the willingness to do the work. To look deep within ourselves. To call ourselves out when we are choosing to be less than our best. To admit, with compassion, when we are choosing to step backward instead of forwards.
Sharing this is one way I’m attempting to step forward. I hope you’ll join me in being more of all your greatest aspects.
◊♦◊
https://i0.wp.com/theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/uxr-t8cz1u.jpg?fit=1600%2C1088&ssl=110881600Andy Granthttp://theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Andy-Grant-Logo.pngAndy Grant2019-02-28 12:26:092019-02-28 12:26:09To Be More or Not To Be More
My wife and I recently returned home for a two week trip to the Middle East, spending one week in Israel and the next week in Jordan. The rock-carved city of Petra was the main reason behind the trip. But both countries had a lot to offer and warrant repeat visits.
We had a fantastic time full of ancient sites, sacred places, and friendly people. I learned a lot about the religion and politics of the area and found I had many misconceptions about the Middle East from growing up in the US. My time in Israel was probably the most intellectually and politically challenging trip I’ve taken. We talked with Arabs, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Palestinians, Isralies, and Jordanians.
Toward the final days, I noticed moments of sadness that things were winding down.
The sadness was mixed with a feeling that two weeks was long enough and I was ready to return home. I recalled years earlier when it was normal for me to feel depressed with days remaining of a vacation because I so dreaded my return to daily life.
Some people like vacations of sitting on the beach and doing nothing. I prefer active holidays where I do things I don’t usually do, especially when I worked as a cube dweller for corporate America.
When I tried to just lay on the beach in the past, my thoughts would turn negative. I’d focus on all the things I didn’t like instead of relaxing. Then I’d drink to remove those thoughts. That worked in the short term, but if I just wanted to drink, I could do that at home much cheaper, so I quickly stopped those sort of trips too.
I’ve visited such places as Machu Pichu, Stonehenge, and Easter Island. I’ve been white water rafting, rappelling, and hiking in Europe, South America, and Africa. A staycation can be nice, but my favorite vacations are ones when I need another vacation to recover from them.
Floating in the Dead Sea
Even today, I can recall being in the jungles of Belize in 2005, but feeling very down because the following Monday I’d be back at work. It was a time that I thought I hated my job, and sometimes my life. Yet, a few days prior, I was enjoying myself and life.
These realizations helped me learn the power of being present.
When fully present, I felt better. I wondered why was it that I was time traveling in my thinking.
Why was I ignoring the fantastic experiences I was having to jump forward to my return to the mundane?
I decided that since I could be full of energy and joy on a vacation when I was present and focused on what I was doing, that I would do my best to live like I was on vacation. All the time.
I did pretty well at that for a long time. Treating each day like it was new. Looking for things that were unusual, special, and fun. If those weren’t apparent, I find a way to bring those elements to what I was doing.
The Western Wall, or Wailing Wall, in the Old City of Jerusalem.
So as I noticed some sadness as this trip was winding down, I explored what exactly I was feeling sad about.
I was going to miss the people. We were a group of 13 in Israel and then 16 in Jordan. I liked my instant family of global citizens traveling, sharing, dining together for long days full of once in a lifetime experiences.
Back home, I often work in isolation. I sometimes forget to admit to myself that I actually like people. I was going to miss having a guide take me to amazing new places every day. I was going to miss having every day planned by someone else when I just needed to show up and be marveled. I would miss walking into restaurants and recognizing a dozen faces. There was no responsibility or stress. Just being present and amazed.
Realizing that I was sad over what was ending as opposed to what I was returning to, made me smile.
◊♦◊
https://i0.wp.com/theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/IMG_5486-Petra.jpg?fit=600%2C405&ssl=1405600Andy Granthttp://theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Andy-Grant-Logo.pngAndy Grant2019-02-23 12:14:512019-02-23 12:25:27Emotions and Vacations
On a recent episode of Real Men Feel, I was talking with Buddy Carchide about social experiments and acts of kindness. I shared a story about Wayne Dyer giving away cash to homeless people on his birthday and said that was always something I wanted to do. It struck me that I’d been saying I want to do this someday for a few years, so I decided to take action and pledged that I would indeed finally do this and on Christmas Eve no less.
I had some money set aside for some year-end giving, and I decided that instead of cutting checks to organizations, I would walk the streets of Boston and hand twenty dollar bills out to homeless people. I thought maybe it would even turn into a Real Men Feel show or at least a short video. Then I began to wonder if I was making it about me, so I opted to make no promises of any sort of a show and didn’t promote what I was planning.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve Day, I googled the Wayne Dyer story to recall the full details of what he had done. Here it is in his words
“…it is May 10, 2011—my 71st birthday. I am in San Francisco to finish filming a movie titled My Greatest Teacher, which is about how I found my father’s grave site in Biloxi, Mississippi, and was able to communicate with and forgive him. I am in my hotel suite, sitting on the bed meditating in the early morning hours. Suddenly I’m overcome with a very strong sensation that I need to be an instrument of an outpouring of unconditional love.
I take a wad of $50 bills and head out of the St. Francis Hotel, and spend the better part of my birthday passing out love and money to homeless people. I give passionate hugs and listen attentively to men with no teeth who are as grubby as you can imagine. I reach out to little ladies who are inspecting trash containers in Union Square for the possibility of a prize in the form of an empty soda can or a discarded plastic water bottle. I don’t notice the filth; I see only the unfolding of God in these vacant eyes. And I am so in love with everyone I touch. I pass out all of the money and return to my hotel room and sit on my bed sobbing in gratitude for what I have been able to experience today. This is the most memorable birthday in my 71 years.”
I loved Wayne Dyer and doing this was a way for me to honor him, be of service to a few people, and express my heartfelt gratitude to life.
I often give change to homeless people I come across. Sometimes a bill or two. Never has it been a $10 or $20 bill. I’m a pretty cheap guy most of the time. I’m also very conscious of getting receipts and documenting my donations for the sake of taxes. I was going to need to get over those issues as well as admit that if I were giving out $50 bills, this would be a much shorter exercise than I wanted.
A little over a year ago I thought I was going to lose my home. That recollection hit me as I parked my Tesla (Wow! What a difference a year can make) in the MBTA garage at Alewife in Cambridge. I chose this spot because there are always people asking for money at the intersections near the station.
On this day, there was only one person out working the corner, and they were on the opposite side of the highway for me to get to them when I arrived. I wondered if this was going to be more challenging than I had anticipated.
I shot an introductory video on my phone, admitting that this might never be seen by anyone because I don’t know how this experiment will unfold. I didn’t know what feelings would arise in me. I was already feeling a bit nervous and wondering if this was some ego stunt. I didn’t know what reactions I’d get from others, and I wasn’t sure how private this experience should really be. But hosting a show called, Real Men Feel, I was ready and willing to capture and share my feelings as best I could.
I got onboard the T and headed for South Station in the center of Boston. I don’t ride the T often, but it seemed more depressing than I recalled. There wasn’t a single thing to make you realize it was Christmas. No lights, no music. It was mostly solitary people staring at the ground or their phones. After a few stops, the car got full, and I heard one man ask for “undivided attention” as he seemed to tell a few his current circumstances and ask for …. something. The noise of the train kept me from hearing him clearly, and the crowd of people ignoring him blocked me from seeing him.
I thought, this is perfect, I’m going push through the crowd of people ignoring him and give the guy some cash. But the next stop came. I got up and moved towards where the voice had come from, but I couldn’t tell who the man was or if he was still on the train. Thoroughly disappointed, I sat back down.
An elderly Asian man with a large bag of empty cans boarded and sat across from me. Perfect, I thought. I smiled and looked at him as he pulled a donut out from his bag of cans and happily ate it. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and the noise of the train prevented any casual conversation across the aisle. I considered standing up and handing him some cash, but it hit me that I was judging him and deciding he needed my help. He wasn’t asking for anything. Hadn’t even exchanged a glance with me. For those reasons or others, I didn’t feel right giving him a handout. I thought, this day really is not going at all as I’d imagined.
I wasn’t expecting to be celebrated and rejoiced, but I sure thought it was going to be fun and easy to give people money.
South Station had the most people asking for assistance and I began to feel better about this whole thing. I made a new friend in Jimmy, whose reaction and appreciation made the whole day worth undertaking. Jimmy was proudly clean and sober since July and was looking forward to seeing his family on Christmas Day.
Here are a couple of brief videos I shot, one at my low point of the day and another a bit later.
I walked around at Downtown Crossing, which was crowded with holiday shoppers. I gave money to every street performer and took a few minutes to disappear in a doorway to feel the cold and think about if I had nowhere to go. I recalled the only other time I did anything like this, a homeless experience in San Diego back in 2009 that ended very badly. Tears began to flow as I was overcome with such deep gratitude and compassion. Perhaps this day of giving to others was giving more to me than I’d expected.
Before heading home, I wandered around Kendall Square and Alewife, both of which were now deserted. I ended up giving out only half the cash I had brought with me. I was even prepared to give my coat, hat, and shoes to anyone who asked because I knew how fortunate I was that all I needed to do was get back home and I had plenty of anything I might give away on this afternoon.
I will do this again. Not around the holiday time, perhaps a time when people in need are more likely ignored and forgotten. I’ll give myself all day and see what unfolds. Perhaps this will inspire you to find a new way to be of service in whatever big or small way you can.
https://i0.wp.com/theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/IMG_2239.jpg?fit=600%2C315&ssl=1315600Andy Granthttp://theandygrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Andy-Grant-Logo.pngAndy Grant2018-12-30 17:35:262019-01-02 13:18:38My Christmas Ode to Wayne Dyer
Ever since I saw the movie Altered States as a kid, I’ve wanted to experience a sensory deprivation or isolation tank. It is sort of a private hot tub of heavily salted water so that you float and it shuts out all light and sound. Things didn’t turn out so great for William Hurt in the movie but “floating” became a pretty big 80’s thing to do and even now there are quite a few spas that offer floatation therapy. This week, I finally took the plunge.
I simply thought it sounded cool and unique, and I’m always up for new experiences.
I’ve done a lot of personal and spiritual growth work this year with the Modern Mystery School and a ten-month program of Kabbalah, and I decided my first float would be a wonderful way to wrap up the year.
With the lid closed, the floatation pods look a bit like a computer mouse. Inside, it is warm, wet and peaceful. You can have subtle lights and music on to get started; then they shut off after ten minutes. My first thought after closing the lid and laying back on top of the water was, is this what life was like in the womb? My second thought was, I wonder if this next hour is going to feel like all day? It didn’t.
I wanted the full “Altered States” experience, so I quickly shut off the lights and music. It was so dark I couldn’t see any difference between my eyes being opened or closed. At one point I was waving my hand in front of my face to see if I could perceive anything. I ended up smacking myself in the nose.
With the music off, the only sound was my breathing and a bit of a ripple in the water when I moved. The water temperature matches skin temperature which results in not quite knowing where you end, and water begins.
Our current society can feel pretty isolating on its own, thanks to not-so-social media, divisive politics and a general lack of empathy, so why would anyone choose to float alone in the dark? Glad you asked.
Some of the many benefits include:
Increased energy levels
Improved quality of sleep
Heightened production of endorphins
Diminished anxiety, depression, and tension
Enhanced creativity and problem-solving abilities
Increased concentration, memory and mental clarity
Improved athletic performance
Quickened rehabilitation and recovery
Reduced blood pressure and heart rate
Improved circulation
Reduced instances of neuromuscular aches and pains, inflammation and tendonitis, sprains/strains
Strengthened immune system
Floating is the sort of isolation that allows you to go inward and lose track of the rest of the world without using distractions or addictions. I found it to be very cool, well warm and wet to be more accurate. There is a feeling of complete weightlessness that allows body and mind to relax quickly and deeply, unless you have a fear of the dark or closed spaces.
Sometimes I felt like I was floating in space, other times I’d swear there was a current, and I was floating down a river. Both sensations were very soothing. I don’t think I ever fell asleep, but I definitely zoned out into some natural meditative state. A few times I wanted to roll over before remembering I was laying on water so had to remain on my back.
I live outside of Boston, and the place I visited, Frost and Float Spa, is also used by many professional athletes including members of the Bruins and Patriots. They also had nitrogen freezing pods that offer Whole Body Cryotherapy. They admitted it hurts like hell; then you feel better when it’s done. I was warned that if I heard screams, it was someone in the cryo chamber. The freezing makes all the blood leave your extremities, which hurts, then when they let you out the blood surges back to where it is meant to be, which is supposed to be beneficial and healing. I passed.
But I will float again. It was trippy being supported in nothing but water. It was a beautiful physical experience of how supported we are by life, the Universe, God…. Once I was zoned out, any little twitch I made seemed to create a tidal wave or anytime a toe touched the walls of the pod would be a shock to me. The hour went much faster than I thought it might. The calming, relaxing experience came on without any effort, just by giving over to the “nothingness” surrounding me.
It was like being an olive in the most blissful martini.
