One Rule to Rule Them All!

What if I told you that the Law of Attraction/Abundance isn’t about money or personal wealth? Would you walk away - rejected and unfulfilled? Would you become angry and unforgiving? Would you turn your back on the Law of Attraction - the same as any other faith? When the truth of the LOA is discovered, many people do exactly the same thing.

In the beginning, when the immutable laws came into being, neither money nor personal wealth was a thing. They did not exist. People did not exist. By default, the LOA is not a get rich quick model. It was never intended to be one.

The LOA is only one of twelve immutable laws that are integrated, and only reach their peak effectiveness when working in tandem with each other. But, none of them work without the Law of Oneness – self-actualized.

The Law of Oneness will rule your life, whether you want it to or not. It is the proverbial one ring to rule them all! The question is which side of the rule are you leaning on? The side that ascribes to truth, light and love; or the one that ascribes to deception, darkness and hate. There is an equal and opposite to everything – in every belief; even atheism.

It can’t happen if you don’t believe in it. That’s a common statement, yet, happens it does. For the sake of conversation, we are going to refer to the Law of Oneness as God, because it is my frame of reference, however, the same tenants can be found in every belief system in the world.

I’m going to be brutally honest here, so hang on to your knickers! There is NO gray area when it comes to the Law of Oneness. It just is - as it is, as it has always been, and as it always will be, not man nor beast can change the Law.

____________________________________________

In Plain English:

God said, “Greater is he that is in you than he who is in the world.”

Oh, that’s a powerful one right there! It is the basis of the Law of Oneness! God does not live in some galaxy far, far away. He does not look down at you from some heavenly throne in the middle of the Milky Way, watching from a distance.

The Scientist, Carl Sagan, said: “…we are made of star stuff.”

The Law of Oneness is just this: We are the all of everything, in all of its magnificent glory and splendor. The entire universe is within us. God is in us. We are spiritual beings – the holy and unblemished spiritual children of God. Without His being, we are not anything, but clay dolls for a Holy Child.

God is immutable. It is our perception of God that is mutable, by our thoughts, intents, and actions, or lack thereof.

____________________________________

The key to activating the Law of Attraction must begin with the Law of Oneness – fully self-actualized. There must be an internal immutable awareness of the Oneness of all that is, all that was, and all that ever will be.

The difference between believing and knowing:

It’s one thing to believe that God exists; however, it is quite another to know that God exists.

Believing is the first step: It is the acceptance of something as true. This is the mind aligning with the Law.

Knowing is the actualization of belief: The state of being aware. This is the mind/soul and spirit aligning with the Law.

____________________________________________

Gaining the Desired Results:

Now that we understand the difference between believing and knowing, we realize that simply believing something doesn’t make it so.

Just believing the LOA can attract abundance and personal wealth, in and of itself, will not produce the desired results.

The source of all things is the Oneness. If you have no knowing of belief, you have nothing except that which your perception allows.

Magick as the world has come to know it is futile and mutable. We can certainly create temporary reality, based on the other eleven immutable laws, but without the one rule to rule them all, everything under the sun is meaningless.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

It was hot in the kitchen both Thursday and Friday nights as my grandkids and I had scurried around, preparing holiday goodies for the festivities that were to take place on Saturday. As I stirred this and floured that, my granddaughter asked, “Grandma, how do you know how to do this?”

Her innocent question touched a sensitive place in my heart as my thoughts traveled down roads of long ago Christmases in my own grandmother’s kitchen. My granddaughter is eight years old, about the same age as I, when I wondered at the skills of my grandparents in their kitchen. It was a sight to behold, indeed. Every available surface of their kitchen, and even some in the living room, had been covered with delicacies from the world cultures that made up our family. Sandbakkelse were my favorite, though I never really learned to make those – not well anyway. Rosettes, divinity, fudge, lefse and things I can’t even remember their true names were strewn about, filling the whole house with the scents of an old fashioned bakery.

“I learned from my mom and my grandparents,” was my response. How could I put into words the years of family gatherings that had been such an important part of my life as a child? Aunts and uncles with their children in tow would gather at the home of my grandparents for every important holiday. Cousins and second cousins would play outside in the snow at Christmas time, sometimes with a few playful aunts and uncles. It was a simpler time in life, where families didn’t live states or even countries apart.

As we worked, it occurred to me that these are the times my grandchildren will remember with me. They won’t recall the gifts I had carefully chosen for each of them. They won’t remember the wrapping paper, ribbons or bows. They will remember slopping chocolate covered pretzels from the bowl to the wax paper. They will remember the time Grandma had been covered with flour from head to toe. They will remember the sounds of the laughter and the warmth of love that had filled Grandma’s kitchen, those cold winter nights before Christmas. They’ll remember driving past the ‘Second Street Angel’ in Fargo, when Grandma remarked in a breathless, whispered tone, “She’s absolutely gorgeous!” Whenever they hear God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, or I’ll Be Home for Christmas, their hearts will long for those days in the kitchen with Grandma; a simpler time when the world stopped for a moment in time to delight in the true meaning of Christmas – a time when we have love for one another and hope for the future.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Finding Myself as Grandma

I never anticipated being a grandmother at 38 years old. It’s been nine years since my grandson was born, followed by his sister and my newest granddaughter, who’s one.

I don’t feel like a grandma. I’m footloose and fancy free these days. I can come and go as I please, without having to concern myself with finding a babysitter. I can be gone for days at a time if the whim hits me.

Although I am only 48 years old, all my children are adults, making their way in life - the same as children of other older grandparents. However, many of the people who are my age are still raising their kids, some of them with toddlers. I think to myself they have a long haul ahead of them, which brings me to the conundrum of being a young grandparent.

To put this into perspective, it’s like being in your twenties again, when people are falling in love and getting married, and suddenly you find yourself to be the last one to get married, and /or to have children. Your friends’ lives become filled with all the things that involve their little family – and not you.

With divorce rates hovering at 50% for the last decade, there are a lot of single-grandparents out there, both men and women. But, most of them are in their late 50s or early 60s. This societal shift is due to married couple’s staying together for the sake of the children, and divorcing when the last kid moves out. I suspect this trend will continue far into the future with a decline in the age of single-grandparents, because of the belief staying together only hurts the kids, and not helps them.

Instead of resolving myself to sensible shoes and dresses, I choose to redefine myself. I am the author of my life, and this but a new chapter in it. I delight in the moments when people seem shocked that indeed I am a grandma. “But, you don’t look old enough to be a grandma.” I concede that I don’t look the part.

I dress for my age, or what I feel comfortable in for my age. I never tried to be my daughters’ best friend. I never shopped in the same stores where they shopped, trying to fit a body that has birthed three children into clothes that are designed for, well, bodies that haven’t. I have middle-age wrinkles for which I refuse to indulge in Botox for the sake of clinging to youth, a ship that sailed twenty years ago.

It didn’t really occur to me until a couple of years ago that I am free to do whatever pleases me. Now, that in itself was a bombshell. I have never lived to please me. I was flustered by the very idea of it. I was asked, “What do you need,” and “What do you like?” I had no clue what the answers were to those questions.

My entire adult life has been about living for everyone else. I lived for my boyfriend and what he needed and liked. I lived for my daughters and what they needed and liked. I lived for my bosses and my friends, for what they needed and liked, and found that in the end, I had somehow become lost in the mix. In fact, I no longer existed at all. I was a shell of a person that only existed before the age of eighteen. I was a ghost haunting my own life.

I like canary yellow, burnt orange, sea foam green, coral and violet, because they are not black, gray or sad.

I like the smell of the ocean on a spring morning, and the sound of the waves as they tumble with playfulness on the shore, laughing their way back out to sea. I prefer the Atlantic in the morning as the sun casts a river of orange in the midst of the waters, creating new hope for a journey less troubled; and the Pacific at the close of day as the sun sinks into the water at twilight, beaming accomplishment at the river’s end.

I like the sound of thunder on a summer’s afternoon as it rumbles across the prairie. It shakes the very core of me, letting me know that I am alive. When the rain ceases to drench the earth all around, the sun never fails to break the clouds. Its rays wrap a blanket of warmth around me and I know all is well in the world.

I like the feel of the horse beneath me, while it bolts across the grasslands, carrying me far and away. The hooves collide with the earth beneath them, the dust exploding into the air. At the canyons edge there is all the world that lies below and all the heavens cast above.

I like the taste of Turkish coffee intermingled with the laughter of friends on a cold winter’s afternoon. It is rich, warm and robust; full of life.

I like the sound of the violin as it mourns the notes it casts into the world, the vibrations of all that was, is and ever will be; or, when it sings joyously the songs of the universe as they race to the stars and moon from the amphitheater that once was.

Today, I still enjoy these things. Sometimes, in spite of ourselves, we must reach back to the person we were, to find the person that we are. I enjoy the laughter of my grandchildren as they cling to me with arms wrapping me in love. I like to rock my infant granddaughter in the still of the evening, when she drifts off to sleep into a world of peace.

Today, I like who I am, recognizing that the only thing that I need is love.

For Honest and True Real

In 1922, one of the most celebrated children’s books of all time became a reality; The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams.

As students from high schools and colleges across the world prepare for Pomp and Circumstance to usher them into the “adulthood” of life, it is my hope that they will take with them all the stories they treasured as children. Because, contained within all the pages of all the bedtime stories is the secret of what it is to be real.

It’s easy – far too easy – to get lost in the hustle and bustle of adulthood and lose our sense of wonder. Life circumstances can overwhelm the most adept adult-er, dragging us down into the realms of fear, pain, and despair; the place where we forget who our friends are, and all of our favorite things.

The one thing that we learn from The Velveteen Rabbit is that to be for honest and true real, we must love and be loved in return.

As Mother’s Day comes to a close, all across the world mothers are tucking in their children, turning off the lights as bedtime stories come to a close. In The Velveteen Rabbit, as the little bunny’s quest to become real culminates with the kiss of the nursery fairy, know this:  the Nursery Fairy is your mother. Whether she gave birth to you, adopted you into her loving arms, or is your mother for only a short-time as a foster mother, she is the one who knows without prejudice, without judgment, and without restraint what love is, and to love and be loved is to be real. 

You are real and you are loved.

In the Garden

"Where you tend a rose, my lad, a thistle cannot grow." ~  Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

 Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden was first published in its entirety in 1911, and it has been a favorite of young girls ever since. There’s a lot to be learned from this 331 page compilation of human tragedy and triumph.

The book opens in the dreary depths of winter, where the world seems gray and life at a standstill. The air is crisp and bitter, much like the tongues and hearts of the inhabitants of Misselthwaite Manor. Winter seems to have that effect on people. However, winter is the season where a choice must be made, by everyone, will we be bitter or better. Will we choose to blossom with the rising of the spring sun?

Oftentimes, people will find themselves in the depths of the despair of tragedy and unfortunately choose to stay there. They allow their hearts to solidify into a hardened stone. Some hearts never heal. The Secret Garden is filled with characters struggling with loss, grief, despair, and demoralization. The beauty that lies within the pages of this book is that no matter the darkness that enshrouds the situation, there is always hope, there is always a way to find the path to better days.

Mary, one of the most introverted child characters ever to grace the pages of a children’s novel, is contrary by definition. However, the girl has lost both of her parents, moved to a new home where she knows no one, and quite spoiled by her affluent lifestyle in India. Mary finds solace in a secret only she knows, in the forbidden garden that had been shut up by Master Craven at the death of his wife. Ironically, it was Master Craven himself who gave Mary the key to the garden when she only asked for a bit of earth.

The garden is dead to the eye, but along comes Dickon to prove otherwise. Dickon, the son of Susan Sowerby and the brother of the cheerful maid assigned to tend to Mary, cuts the bark of one of the trees in the garden and says, “It is quick.” Now back in those days, the word quick meant alive. I love this particular part of the book, because it teaches us something we don’t often practice these days: you must look deeper beneath the surface to find life and hope.

Another favorite part of the book of mine is where Mary teaches Colin, the supposed invalid son of Master Craven, that he is not a victim of circumstance. We’ve all met or been the sick person who is cranky and certain of impending death. Colin is mean-spirited and bitter. He has to make a choice, one that can only come from him. Will he try or will he lie down and die, because that is what is expected of him.

We all have our secret garden. It is the place that lives within. It is the place where the flame of hope burns eternal. No matter what it looks like on the outside, there is life and beauty, hope and love that exist inside. Some people call it the will to live, or the primal instinct of survival, I call it faith.

You see, The Secret Garden, is about finding the one thing that will save us all. It’s about finding the faith to believe in something greater than ourselves. The garden, Lilias’ garden, in the book is only a symbol of that faith. It is reflected in abundance and beauty and grace, only when the source of its life is tended; friendship also known as fellowship, believing in miracles, and knowing that there is a life source that is far beyond our own imagination.

We must all tend our garden in such a manner that it emanates the glory and steadfastness of the one who planted it. To do anything less is to give away the keys to the Kingdom.

Through literature, we learn to live, to love, and to conquer!

Never Stop Believing in the Magic of Love

“There comes a point in many people's lives when they can no longer play the role they have chosen for themselves. When that happens, we are like actors finding that someone has changed the play.” ~ Brian Moore, Author of The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne

Fifty-three percent (53%) of adult American women are single today. That’s rather shocking compared to the turn of the last century when that number was less than 20%. It used to be that most women were married by the time they were 20 to 22 years old; not anymore. Today, many women are putting off getting married until at least age 27.

As I was doing some research on this post, I started to think about all the information that I was obtaining about the benefits of being single – all of them are tangible reasons to be single, except the part of being free to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

One of the saddest books I have ever read is The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne. Why would a book have that sort of effect on the reader? I think that it has a lot to do with the aging process. When we are young and free to be whomever we choose, having someone to come home to at night or not isn’t really all that big of a deal. However, when we become women of a certain age, the play has changed and we actresses aren’t necessarily choosing our own roles anymore.

The apartment or house seems a bit bigger and emptier as the years pass. All the beautiful things that fill the home appear to be a bit less shiny than they once were. They seem to be of less importance than we once thought that they were or would be. We pass by the mantel, or perhaps trek up the stairs where the eyes peering out of the photos on the walls haunt our memories with thoughts of better days. Perhaps they are the eyes of our children, the husband long departed in a years-ago divorce.

I am most certain that every single woman in today’s world has known love or at least infatuation at one time or another. In The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, Judith never had the opportunity to fall in love with anyone, while caring for her ailing aunt until the old woman died, leaving Judith with nothing. Judith was a 40-something year old spinster. Judith didn’t really have a choice in the matter; however, today women choose it. We are choosing spinsterhood over marriage at a rapid rate.

Several times every year, I am asked, why didn’t I get married. I suppose I have my reasons that are probably just as different or the same as any other who chose not to. Does that mean I will never get married? No, not at all, like Judith Hearne, I want someone who meets my intellectual needs just as much as other needs.  I learned something from my elders, particularly my grandparents who were married 63 years, once you reach a certain age, you have to enjoy each other’s company or you really don’t have anything.

I watched the documentary Revelations on Netflix, and I couldn’t agree more with the men who were interviewed. Marriage is about the relationship first, and about love second. Love is a by-product of marriage or civil union, or whatever suits your fancy in this regard. However, no matter how far you get into your spinsterhood, don’t ever stop believing in the magic of love.

You just never know. One day you might be at the laundromat or the grocery store, where a simple conversation leads to dinner, and then movies, or football games or whatever is in the spark that feeds the relationship and whispers…my dear, there is more, so much more.

Through literature, we learn to live, to love, and to conquer!

Web of Obsession

Great Expectations is one of the most epic stories of love and loss of all time. There is a reason this book is a classic. It speaks to many of the human conditions, as is the nature of Charles Dickens in his works. We are going to peer in on Pip and Estella, a love that was as one sided as love can be, until one day…

In Great Expectations, Pip finds himself falling deeply in love with a girl he cannot possibly hope to marry, although he would dearly love to. He begins to tell himself stories of how Miss Havisham has planned it all out. He begins to believe that somehow the woman has orchestrated this very complex plan to ensure that Estella will be his. Oh what a web we weave, when we practice to deceive – especially ourselves.

Great Expectations is a cautionary tale about self-deception based on assumption. Pip, receiving a mysterious gift of wealth, assumes that the wealth came from Miss Havisham to assure that he was of the right class to marry Estella. What he didn’t consider is that although the world divides humanity, true love will transcend all obstacles.

We as human beings do this all the time. We want something [insert thing here] so badly that we begin to tell ourselves stories. We rehearse the lines for conversations that may never happen. We create scenarios in our head of all the possibilities. We choose the one that makes the most sense to us and build upon it, and one day we find we have fallen deep into obsession.

Pip is obsessed with Estella. He can’t live a single day without the story he has created ruling his life. Until the day he learns the mysterious gift of wealth did not come from Miss Havisham at all. This one intricate piece of knowledge unravels the story in his mind, leaving him disappointed, heartbroken and in a state of disbelief.

There are no greater lies than the lies we choose to tell ourselves. Think about it. The deepest disappointment that comes to each of us is self-made, through the stories we tell ourselves. Obsession is blinding to all things real.

Be careful about how much you fall in love with someone or something. You may just find yourself caught in the web of lies you tell yourself.

Through literature we learn to live, to love and to conquer!

To Love and Be Loved in Return

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”  

Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Here we are in the month of February, where Cupid is busy, slinging arrows here and there in preparation for St. Valentine’s Day. Ah, to love and be loved in return.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is an intense story, surrounding the life and times of a teenage boy. These are the times when love, lust and infatuation all seem to become one and the same. Infuse the other types of love – familial and friendship, and life becomes extraordinarily complex.

One of the most profound statements made in the book is “We accept the love we think we deserve.” When I was younger, my greatest fear was the fear of being alone. It was an intense feeling that couldn’t be shaken. I had spent the first six years of my life primarily alone, due to life’s circumstances. So, I knew what being alone was.

Ironically, in high school I didn’t chase after every boy who turned my head. Nope, I was looking for the one. I, like Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, was looking to fill that enigmatic something that just couldn’t quite be named. Maybe it was a void left by the absence of my father. Maybe it was the loss of one my best friends. Maybe it was just a need for a sense of self-worth in a society that had labeled me long before I even knew they existed. Maybe…just maybe it was a combination of all of that and more. Being a teenager isn’t easy; for girls or boys.

My first real, true and honest kiss was magical. I can remember it like it happened just last night. We had sat on the old wooden merry-go-round on the playground at the elementary school. It was December 1984. I had turned 16 that past summer, and I had met the magical kisser the following October. We talked for a long time that night, as we had many a nights before that. It was warmer than usual for December, so I hadn’t dressed for being outside for long. Big flakes of snow had begun to fall from the overcast sky. We stood up, and he placed his leather jacket around my shoulders, and then he kissed me. In that one moment the whole world stopped, and became much smaller, including only him and me. He was the one. I told you it was magical.

Reality check:  The one was six years older than me. He often drank and smoked a lot of pot.

Love is many a splendored thing, blinding being the greatest of these when you are sixteen. One magical kiss and the gates to hell opened wide. I overlooked the fact that he was an alcoholic and a pothead. I overlooked every red flag that presented itself – because he loved me. He doted on me, and gave me everything I thought I didn’t have.

We broke up about a year and half later. He went back to the East Coast, and I went to on to college, where the loneliness got the best of me, and I called him, just to see how he was. It was magical again. We picked up just where we had left off. The next thing I knew, he surprised me and showed up on my doorstep in October. After all, he loved me.

We spent eight years making each other miserable. I was trying desperately to make him into the man I had dreamed to be the one. He was trying desperately to be who he was. The friction became too much for both of us. He lied, cheated, and fed his addictions. The more I pushed back about his behavior, the more he indulged himself, now blaming me. He never hit me, he didn’t have to - his words were enough.

The most common question people ask me about those eight years is why did I stay? The answer is because I had accepted the love I thought I deserved.

In The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Charlie and his friends learn that they were doing the same thing I was, only in a different way.

I’m not afraid to be alone anymore. In fact, I prefer to be alone. I don’t go looking for the one. I’m not sure the one really exists, but I maintain the hope that the one is looking for me.

WARNING: There are a lot of triggers in this book.

In Hope There is Love

“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.”
–Laura Ingalls Wilder

Well, here we are again, as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. It’s Christmas time again, and I heartily wish a Merry Christmas to all.

Christmas is the time of year where underneath all the hustle and bustle of shopping and baking, and making preparations for family from far and near, there lives a certain feeling of something greater.

Oftentimes, we find ourselves drifting back to the days of our youth, longing for that certain something that most assuredly existed, way back then. As we contemplate the days of youth, we can’t quite put our finger on the one thing that made it all so special; that certain something that found a home in our hearts, and each year is rekindled into a glowing warmth that is reflected in the smiles on our faces and the lights that shine in our eyes.

Many times we find ourselves re-enacting the activities that took place once upon a time in a snowy world that now only exists in our hearts and minds. Perhaps it is a sleigh ride through the countryside with someone we love; or maybe it is building snow forts and engaging in the snowball fight to end all snowball fights; or participating in the family traditions that have been handed down generation to generation.

There’s an anticipation that comes with Christmas. I like to believe it is the anticipation of hope; hope for better days, for a better world, hope for peace on earth and good will toward men.

Our world doesn’t always reflect this anticipation. It is marred with wars that extend from the home to the nation states. It is marred with hunger, poverty, and injustice. It is unfair at times and sometimes bleak at best. Yet each December, that certain something stirs in our hearts. That certain something called hope.

As we move toward that most wondrous night of the year, the night Christ was born, let us keep hope in our hearts. Let us take a moment each day to kindle the spark of hope in our fellow human beings, and pass on the greatest gift that was given to us over 2,000 years ago. In hope there is love. This Christmas, let us love one another.

Shine a Light Through an Open Door

The heart of the world beats in the breast of every man. The door to the world is attached to the heart, and once opened it can never again be closed. The world is filled with a vibrant fabric of cultures and traditions that have survived the millennia. Through war and conflict, natural disasters, and the march of progress the fabric of culture is becoming tattered and frayed at the edges. Nonetheless, the original culture of man survives in its natural state. In spite of our differences, barriers, and lack of understanding the culture of love survives.

We all have our histories in the world from the beginning of our ancestral lines to this day in which we live. These histories overlap and intertwine with one another, attaching to the heart that beats ferociously in the universe. We work each day to survive in a world that seems to be overcome with greed, selfish desires, and the need to acquire and have more. The headlines scream of atrocities that the human mind can scarcely comprehend, as they have since the beginning of the written word. Yet, underneath it all, there is a steady beat that fills the human being, which cannot be vanquished even by the darkest of evils that have plagued the population of the Earth. It is the heart of the world. The heart that allows us, as one race, to overcome all that has been, and all that will be. It is said that Love conquers all, and I hold that as a truth in life.

I have spent the majority of my life in one place where the world had not entered in until the last of the twentieth century. It was when the world seeped into my existence that I was able to open my heart and shine a light through an open door. I began meeting more people from all over the world in my own backyard. Some of these people were only to be in my life for a short while, and others have become long-time friends. The secret to the world is held within ourselves. It is the ability to see another as a human being not unlike ourselves. It is the ability to give and receive love, which transcends all barriers.

Please visit the above video on youtube for links to Ven Tribe and other information regarding the makers of this video, which is the sole property of Lindsey Stirling.

Merry Koda Christmas: Author Cody Martin

Christmas In Translation

Flashing Christmas lights decorate the store windows. Malls and restaurants are playing Christmas music and snow will soon be falling in the northern climes. Presents are wrapped and greeting cards signed, and the KFC dinner is on the table for the big feast. (Insert screeching record sound here). Kentucky Fried Chicken? For Christmas dinner?! What's going on? Turkey and pumpkin pie may be staples of Christmas dinner in America, but it's KFC and Christmas cake in Japan.

I'm an expatriate living in Japan. I've been here just over five years, and I tell you, living overseas can be tough. Even when things are similar, like McDonald's, supermarkets, and Christmas, sometimes the little differences between what you’re use to and what the custom is, are the hardest to deal with.

Christmas in Japan is not a religious holiday. While Christianity is present in Japan, Buddhism and Shinto are the two dominant religions. Christmas came to Japan in the 1800s by missionaries and the first recorded Christmas was celebrated in my home prefecture of Yamaguchi, at the southern end of the big island. That being said, Christmas is looked on as a romantic holiday, more akin to America’s Valentine’s Day.

Couples often have romantic dinners, take walks to enjoy the light displays, and give each other a gift of affection. Romance is in the cold winter air, there’s a reason WHAM’s Last Christmas and Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You are among the most popular Christmas songs. Christmas is somewhat romantic in America also. It’s a time for friends and family, visiting each other’s relatives, maybe even popping the question on that perfect sleigh ride. I spent my first Christmas in Japan alone, with my two feet tall fake tree and some DVDs. But it didn’t get me down. I decorated the tree just like I use to in America, listening to Amy Grant Christmas music and putting the presents mom had mailed me under the tree. Sure, I was alone. But by doing the same holiday traditions in Japan I had done in America, I brought a little piece of home with me. Was it a bad Christmas? No. Just different.

Presents are another staple of Christmas and here in Japan, even this is different. There is no Black Friday or Cyber Monday here; in fact, my wife (who is Japanese) had never heard of these terms before. There are Christmas sales at the store but there is no loud push for you to buy, buy, buy and get that last-minute shopping done. Most people, even children, get one or two presents. That’s it. Sure, some get more, but the norm seems to be one or two. And Santa (whom Japanese kids think lives in Finland or Norway, maybe Greenland) doesn’t put their presents under the tree, which is typically three feet high; he puts them beside their pillow or on the floor at the head of their bed.

When it comes to food, that may be the biggest difference. Turkey is almost non-existent in Japan, and even if they did live here, there is no way they would fit in an average sized oven. Most Japanese people I have met have never eaten turkey in their life; for them, chicken is close enough. KFC runs specials on absolutely gorgeous Christmas dinners for the family and eating KFC on Christmas is usual. But if an American can’t live without turkey or pumpkin pie on Christmas, the Japanese can’t live without their Christmas cake. Often white with strawberries on top (sometimes chocolate or buttercream flavored as well) these are a holiday staple everyone eats every year. Every store, food shop, and convenience store sells these cakes and most of the time you have to order them.

But what is truly missing from Christmas in Japan is the rush: the madness to shop, shop, shop, the stress of getting every family member a gift, driving from store to store looking for the best deal. Christmas is just another holiday here, slightly more important that others, but not the biggest. It’s for the couples, for the romantics, for the parents to show some love to their kids.

That’s what I love most about Christmas: love. Christmas is more about love than Valentine’s Day. It’s the love of Christians for Jesus Christ. It’s the love Santa has for children, wanting to make boys and girls happy. It’s the love of humanity helping each other. It’s a season to love and be loved. And the slowness the Japanese have about the season, the emphasis on romance, is what made me like Christmas even more.

Teaching junior high students about Christmas and discussing differing customs with Japanese people made me realize I can make my own Christmas. Here in Japan, I got to introduce Christmas the way I wanted it to be. I don’t look at my waist high tree as puny, I look at it as the tree my wife and I bought together. She enjoys American music and I was able to introduce my tradition of listening to Amy Grant while we decorate. Her parents are delighted that I give them gifts for Christmas. I’ve eaten Japanese Christmas cake and looked at the Christmas lights while holding hands with my wife. I’ve made my own Christmas here. And when you’re living apart from everything familiar and comforting to you, that’s what you have to do. Make it your own. No matter where you are, Christmas is where you make it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cody Martin: Cody is an author living in Iwakuni-Shi, Yamaguchi, Japan. Cody teaches English to junior high students in Japan, as part of the JET Programme. Cody is originally from Cody, WY, USA. He graduated from Kansai Gaidai University in 2005, and the University of Alabama in 2006. 

Cody is the author of Adventure Hunters - Artorius, Regina, and Lisa, are three adventurers who explore ruins and ancient buildings looking for treasures. Most of the time, they're just trying to make ends meet. But when they explore a town rampaged by goblins, they get more than they bargained for. They uncover a cache of ancient war golems, powerful weapons of destruction once thought to be only myths. Soon,they are in a quest for the Lambda Driver, the key to the golems's activation. But they aren't the only ones, and they will have to defy their own king to find it first. If King Ryvas has his way, he will unleash the golems's destructive power on the neighbouring kingdom. The adventurers's quest will take them from mountains to poisoned valleys and enchanted forests but they must hurry. Where is the Lambda Driver? What secret do the golems hold? And why does their friend Regina seem to be in the midst of it all?

Thank you for sharing the amazing customs and traditions of Christmas in Japan. It all sounds so delicious and romantic. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!!!

Guest Blogger, Author, Mark Levine, Musings on Valentine's Day

I was so excited when author, Mark Levine, accepted my invitation to guest blog on the Butterfly Phoenix blog this week.

Mark is married, and lives with his wife in Romeoville, IL, where he is a teacher and an author. Mark regularly blogs on Levine Writes


________________________________________________________________________________

Valentine’s Day is upon us, and as with many “Hallmark created” holidays, we head to the store to buy what we are expected to, in order to satisfy the social pressures that we have learned to love in a mindless Lemming manner.  

I am one of those guys that actually have followed such a tradition of getting the “required” props for each given created holiday, so that no feelings are hurt and nobody feels left out.  Yes, I at times, have been amongst the crowds of guys in the lines at grocery stores, convenience stores, and even gas stations, early in the day on February 14^th.    I have witnessed the shame on the faces of these men, who refuse to make eye contact so they do not have to admit to themselves that they have made it to this level of shame.  I am not sure if it is part of the guy code to collectively respect the other men by refusing to put another guy through the embarrassment, or if it is just an accepted line-of-shame decree passed down in the male DNA.  Either way, this sad phenomenon exists and I am pretty sure all women know it lurks in the shadows of the day. 

So where does this painful dance originate?  It appears that over 3,000 years ago, some guy, named Valentine, believed in love.  He believed so much, that he risked his life for love.  He agreed to marry young male soldiers to their loves, even though it was considered illegal at the time.  He risked his life in the name of love.  As he was sentenced to death, he was introduced to a young beautiful blind girl of significance.  It was understood that he was a healer of sorts and he might be able to heal the girl.  With no promise of freedom or pardon for his crime, he healed the girl.  He was executed and left the girl, who had become his closest friend, a loving note.  The note was signed, “from your Valentine.”

Now for the open and honest part, I am a man of passion and love.  I enjoy doing special things for the love of my life.  I look forward to being the romantic and caring one.  Yes, I am one of those sensitive guys.  I don’t really desire to be current on the latest trend of gift giving, or for that matter, follow the tradition of candy and flowers.  I would much rather give a hunk of wood that was found on a walk we took several years ago.  I might attach a note of a memory I cherish from that particular walk, and how the memory has enhanced my love for her.  As far as I am concerned, celebrating a tradition that we assert is a holiday does not have to follow every norm set forth for us.  It is more than the thought …it is the heart that counts. 

I am a teacher, an author, a person who values humor and honesty.  I am a guy with high expectations for self and for others around me.  Like everyone else…I seek acceptance and love.  On this Valentine’s Day, or week…I hope you all find what matters to you in your own way.  Whether it is tradition, or non-compliance; flowers, or a hunk of wood, outward or inward love…I hope you find what the day means for you. 

Peace.  Mark.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you, Mark for taking the time (on short notice) to fill in for me today! To my readers: take a moment to visit Levine Writes and learn more about the fascinating author, Mark Levine. Have a great week everyone!

Happy Saturday: A Few of My Favorite Things

I have never been a huge fan of The Sound of Music. There I have said it for the whole world to see. Truth be told, I am not a big fan of musicals in general. Although, I must say, I will forever love Mary Poppins and Popeye (Robin Williams).

As the Christmas season is upon us in full vigor, I thought it appropriate to list some of my favorite things and people from this year.

Lady Gaga - I am a strong proponent of anti-bullying strategy development. I admire Lady Gaga's continual support of anti-bullying groups and her determination to create change in this regard.

New Babies - I like babies, especially new babies, and babies that go home with their parent(s). Several new babies have entered my life recently and they make me smile everytime I see them. I absolutely adore my grandbabies - although they aren't really babies anymore.

My Young Mothers - As many of you know, I am a mentor mother for the Young Mothers Network in Cass County, ND and Clay County, MN, one hundred and five young women who are making a difference in their own lives, by leaps and bounds. These young women have made me very proud this year. There are some pretty spectacular dads in this group too, who love and take care of their families.

My Mother - My own mother has been such a wonderful support for me this year with all the changes that have happened. She has always been my mother first, but most importantly my best friend for years. I am so thankful that she is still a part of my life. Love you, Mom.


My Friends - This year has been a really difficult year full of obstacles, challenges and changes. My friends are among my favorites, because I know they are people I can count on when I need them and we love each other just the way we are.

When we talk about our favorite things in life and seriously sit down to consider what those things are, invariably it comes down to the people who share our lives. Things and money come and go like water, but the people in our lives stay with us forever. So this Christmas, my favorite things are those who travel on my journey of life with me - yesterday, today and into tomorrow.

Happy Saturday and may your life be filled with love, laughter and all the joy your heart can hold.