Posted by admin | Posted in Spiritual | Posted on 20-10-2011


This week, I started doing something again that I thought I had been doing all along, but realized this past weekend I wasn’t.

For the majority of the past 9 years, I have gone to Starbucks with my dogs and sat outside drinking my coffee, facing the Sun.  During my “coffee time,” I did nothing.  Well, visibly nothing, anyway.  What I didn’t realize was that such a ritual had turned into a daily meditation where I was able to work out several aspects of my life, ranging from daily routine issues to deep introspective epiphanies; the fact that I was also absorbing Vitamin D was merely a bonus.

For the past year, while I thought I was doing this, I realized that I really wasn’t.  My daily meditation had turned into a “Words with Friends” session and NY Times reading time, due to my ownership of a smart phone.  (Although I will not go into how technology bringing the world to our fingertips can potentially negatively affect our lives, it certainly is food for thought.)

 This week, I decided to put my phone away while in my “coffee time.”

In just the second day of “coffee sans phone,” the influx of thoughts and realizations has been overwhelming!

One particular thought that I wanted to ensure I didn’t readily forget was a gift I received from a dear friend several years ago.  It was a simple bracelet with a stone upon which the words “I am…” were engraved on.  What I understood the purpose of the bracelet to be was a daily personal reminder of who we are or like to be.  I’m certain others had different uses for it, but that was mine.  I distinctly recall that during my ownership of the bracelet—the string eventually wore down—I repeated to myself every day “I am…a knot on the net.”

“I am…a knot on the net.”

This went on for a couple of years, and it had become my personal mantra.  It had such a profound meaning for me that it was even the subject of one of first blogs, and the inspiration for this site.  (

What troubled me this morning was that while I remembered the bracelet and the words on it, I couldn’t remember the words that I had added to it, the words that once were the core of my daily mantra.  It took me well over five minutes to recall the words.  Now, five minutes may not seem like a long time, but when referring to how long it took to remember something that was my core belief for nearly two years, it felt like an eternity.

When I look back at that period of my life, I can’t help but smile.  My life was bliss.  I distinctly recall thanking the universe for everything that I had, and felt extremely lucky for it.

I am far from that place right now, and I can feel it.  I am being dishonest about my situation, not only to others, but to myself as well.

As I scan through my past blogs and read about subjects that I wrote two years ago that directly apply to issues I find myself battling today, I can’t help but feel like a complete moron.

How far have I succumbed into the depths of personal imbalance?

I don’t know.

But I am aware now.

In coming up with an appropriate title for this post, I went through several iterations of thoughts, until I came to the one that offered me one additional epiphany.  A phoenix is a mythical bird, found in the Arabian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Chinese, Indian and reputedly Phoenician mythologies.  They all agree on a simple premise:  At the end of its lifecycle, the phoenix builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix arises, reborn anew to live again.

What’s not intuitive but still implicit is that the in order to be reborn, one must be reduced to ashes first.

 While I was writing this blog, the building’s fire alarms were triggered, and I had to evacuate.  While I was outside, bitter about not being able to work on this blog, I uttered a comment like “some idiot doing something stupid.”  Within seconds I realized the negativity of my remark, which only further illustrates where I find myself currently in.  I vow to correct this; I just hope I can easily dust off the ashes.