The Law of Giving & Receiving – Notice No “S” – It’s One Law With 2 Parts – We Have 1 Hand For Giving & 1 Hand For Receiving – We Must Use Both Hands To Get The Law Right! – Let Me Explain

This post is on the Spiritual Law of Giving & Receiving, taken from Deepak Chopra’s book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success, that I read over 20 years ago.

The principles presented in this short book are as dear to me as are the bible’s principles. I have distributed copies of this book to others around the world. I live by all seven of its principles.

If you read this book (less than 90 pages), you can get a good idea as to how my spiritual mind works. You will see its principles reflected in my posts and opinions. It is reflected in how I live. It especially influences how I give. It includes a chapter devoted to Giving & Receiving on which I will explain in this post.

The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

Deepak’s book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success was very instrumental in my spiritual transformation. It explains spiritual principles in multi-metaphysical dimensions. It presents spirituality scientifically, astrologically, psychologically, emotionally, and practically, while I perceive the bible as not being as multidimensional. The book does not contradict the bible, though, it expands it. Every principle can be associated with biblical principles. I suggest that you read it as I have many times.

I have wanted to write this post for months now, but could not muster up the creative energy to do so. I may appear to have it all together, based on the content that I create, but I have flaws and bad days just like everyone else. I practice and passionately believe wholeheartedly in the perspectives I share, but that does not mean that I do not experience seasons in my life like everyone else.

Continue reading “The Law of Giving & Receiving – Notice No “S” – It’s One Law With 2 Parts – We Have 1 Hand For Giving & 1 Hand For Receiving – We Must Use Both Hands To Get The Law Right! – Let Me Explain”

My Mother’s Body Expired Yesterday – My Heart Was Ignited By Her Spirit – Caregivers & Empaths Will Understand Why I Am Not Sad

This post is a bit of a test.  I used Artificial Intelligence (AI) to prepare it because I needed it to be published on May 14th.

My true feelings are reflected in the post, but I needed to get this post out quickly before the day ended, so I used a bit of assistance.  Unfortunately and it is 1:00 am and I am still putting the finishing touches on this post and a rushed video.

Unlike many people, I embrace technology, simply because I cannot stop it.  I do my best to avoid its pitfalls while milking its benefits to reach others around the world, in a way unimaginable just a few years ago.

I used the Samsung Smartphone Voice Recorder’s speech to text feature to prepared this post.

It allowed me to capture thoughts and feelings, as they were occurring.  It converted my voice into words, based on how clearly I spoke.  It worked impressively well considering that it rained and hailed as I recorded while driving.

I used this audio for the attached video.  I used the text to record in my studio additional comments.  I can see many ways that we can embrace technology and AI, in particular, to propagate and fulfill our mission.


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Photo – Wikipedia

Yesterday was a very special day.  May 14th is the day when my mother’s body died and was returned to the Earth as an offering to the continuous cycle of life. Continue reading “My Mother’s Body Expired Yesterday – My Heart Was Ignited By Her Spirit – Caregivers & Empaths Will Understand Why I Am Not Sad”

Mothers Are To Be Loved & Honored – They Have A Special Connection With God – How Else Could The Miracle Of Birth Occur?

This is what I call a freehand post. This is why I am posting it so late into the morning.

I am just typing it onto the webpage as thoughts come to mind. I did not have time to prepare for this post because I have been reflecting on my mother so intensely.

I was so focused on saying the right words that I just could not pull it together.

So, here I am on the morning of Mother’s Day, without a clue as to what to say. I am adlibbing y’all.

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Photo – Kelly Sikkema

Mother’s Day, my mother’s birthday, and the day of her passing are always very introspective. I appreciate the beauty of having 3 official days on the calendar to reflect on how much I love my mother, the wisdom she passed on to me, and how much she loves me.

Sometimes I want to be apologetic about the closeness of our relationship, relative to my siblings, but I have nothing to apologize about. I simply loved her very much, and she had unshakable love and trust for me, entrusting me with solely caring for her, in the final 4+ years of her illustrious life.

I know that it is not good to think of mothers having favorites, but I may have been hers. She is certainly “my favorite girl in the world”.

I was her favorite namely because I was given additional pampering as an infant to compensate for my father dying when I was 8 months old. Those early years were formative because they cast an impenetrable bond between us.

Later, I would show my appreciation by treating her like a queen all of my adult life. Eventually, it was as if I was her mother because I cared for her until she transitioned at the ripe age of 96.

Continue reading “Mothers Are To Be Loved & Honored – They Have A Special Connection With God – How Else Could The Miracle Of Birth Occur?”

Calling All New Orleanians – It Is Gumbo Season! – Filé Gumbo Is In The Air

“Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.” – Confucius

Just as in Thanksgiving kicking off the mirliton season, the Christmas holidays kick off the gumbo season in New Orleans, especially for Black Creole families.

Mirliton is also referred to as chayote squash.  It is a summer squash that has a taste of melon and pecan.  During the holidays traditional creole families half, boil, scrape the fiber out of the shell, thensauté it with onion, garlic, bell pepper, celery, parsley, and spices, then adding Italian breadcrumbs, ham, and shrimp.  We then stuff the mixture into the hollow mirliton shells and bake, topped with butter.  This is very delicious and one of my all-time favorite Creole dishes.  

Gumbo is New Orleans’ most popular dish.  This is a traditional meal all over the state of Louisiana but is especially popular among black families, especially roles.  The ingredients may vary from family to family, neighborhood to neighborhood, and in various parts of the state.  But we do tend to agree that either the gumbo is going to be filé Gumbo or Okra Gumbo.

Filé Gumbo is thickened by filé (dried and ground sassafras leaves) and pan-roasted flour, called a roux.  Okra Gumbo is more popular among roles.  It obviously contains okra, tomatoes, ham, shrimp, and crab, but typically does not contain the variety of ingredients that file gumbo does.

Gumbo is New Orleans’s melting pot dish.  The name is derived from a West African word for okra.  Filé comes from the Choctaw NativeAmerican Indians.  And roux is a much darker version of the French sauce base.

Continue reading “Calling All New Orleanians – It Is Gumbo Season! – Filé Gumbo Is In The Air”

Gumbo in the Air (Part 1)

May 19, 2018

“Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.” – Confucius

Gumbo in the Air (Part 1) – In memory of my dear mother – 10/2/1918 – 5/14/2014

She and our close-knit family knew when the first cold draft blew through the floorboards of her historic home, gumbo season had arrived. Though a modest home, you could sense from the gallery-side rose garden that she kept, the hallway piano and furniture aligned with photos of grandchildren, to the floors clean enough to eat from, her home and family reigned supreme, even above herself. She delighted now in beginning to prepare the season’s first Creole file gumbo. With the opportunity for her to illuminate much brighter stolen from her as a domestic servant, she gladly surrendered to servitude to please everyone, especially her family. She had surrendered and accepted her humble station in life with pride.

Eunice had a hard life but somehow sustained through unimaginable challenges. Her Black Catholic faith gave her determination and kept her going. Having endured through the black plague as a child, the Great Depression, the birth of 11 children, the death of 2, as well as, marriage to my violent and alcoholic father, she proudly told her survival stories as family members attentively listened. With certainty this occurred as she worked on one of her many tedious seasonal projects, such as when preparing crayfish bisque, washing and changing curtains on her home’s 35 windows, and at gumbo time.

Though she led most work on these major undertakings, she made use of having such a large family, and carefully took advantage of the free labor, but only on simple tasks. Maybe tasks like peeling shrimp, but never deveining them. Chopping the ‘holy trinity’ seasoning (onion, celery, and bell pepper), but never browning the roux. There were details in this recipe that only she knew how to ‘do right’. As kids, she told us many times that if she wanted something ‘done right’ she’d do it her damn self. We would hear this line often, especially when we didn’t make our beds to perfection.

A feisty woman with passions for Catholic saints, especially for St. Anthony, ‘for he’s never failed her’, hard work, and her gumbo recipe. Though her determination seemed special, she was not the only one. Many humble New Orleans Creole women also felt the gumbo breeze of each season.

Before surrendering her passion for preparing gumbo to old age and frailty, she once again prepared this culinary delight to the attraction of her family, friends, and neighbors for weeks to come. She grew up during The Depression and told stories to us as she went through this methodical and lengthy process. At a vibrant 80 years young, she had prepared nearly 150 batches. I calculated it for she prepared gumbo only at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and perhaps on one additional special Sunday, say for a birthday or even for a funeral. …About 3-4 times a year. She started cooking at age 10. Now you do the math.

She actually started preparing the dish months in advance, storing ham bones, turkey parts, crabs, and shrimp in preparation for this day. She never bought the frozen seafood, no siree! She only used the fresh shrimp from the fisherman on the side of Claiborne Avenue, where most black mothers did bargain shopping at neighborhood meat, super, and dollar store markets. Sometimes when the timing synchronized, the Seafood man or ‘Okra Man’ rode through the impoverished Uptown neighborhood in an old pickup and parked it on a corner with his wares to sell. From his megaphone he shouted, “I got, Okra, Blue Crabs, Shrimp, and anything else gumbo, which is nearly everything, until Eunice and many black mothers sent their kids out to the street corner to get a pound of ‘this or that’.

She carefully pulled bite-sized meat from thawed carcasses and placed them in bowls, boiling the bones for broth. Shrimps and crabs were cleaned and prepared, but put in the fridge, for they were added last. She used to add oysters but stopped altogether because they could spoil the gumbo, not allowing her to freeze some for future Sunday dinner surprises. Frugality ran through her veins. She did not believe in waste. She knew how to stretch a dollar; she could ‘make it holla’ too.

We had limited tasks to perform, such as bringing items to her or cleaning up after her, and of course eating 2-3 bowls when ready. By the time Eunice brought all the preparation together, bowls covered the kitchen table and inside the fridge. With the ‘trinity’, seafood, chopped meats, sausages, broths all prepped, she stood over the stove with a cup of all-purpose flour in her hand aimed and ready to start the roux.

As the roux browned everyone took a bit of a breather, namely her. We all knew that after the roux, broth, spices, and other ingredients were combined, the gumbo would make itself, and only required stirring and an attentive eye on the stove. We could not mistake the nutty smell of roux browning to the color of perfection. That smell signaled to me, and the rest of the household, that we could go out and play. To her, it called her to the next domestic chore, likely already in the making. She would say, ‘a man can work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.’ Her work never seemed to end.

Continue reading “Gumbo in the Air (Part 1)”