It's easy, and common, to mistake symbolic meaning for literal meaning. When we do, it can create obstacles to our understanding, unnecessary limitations, alienation, even hysteria, - all of which create barriers between us and others. Our lives are full of examples of mistaken meaning, most commonly in religion, esoteric study, art, and prophecy, (note the Mayan calendar). And I'm not talking about other people - I'm referring to ourselves! It's so easy to be appauled by, or laugh at other people wandering about in misinterpretation, but it's pretty darn difficult to recognize when it is happening to us.

Awareness helps, so does commonality, realizing that we all share in the human condition, good and bad. When we stop looking at the misinterpretations and misdeeds of others, and instead search for possible misinterpretations and mis-deeds in ourselves, we open ourselves up to clarity, tolerance and self-acceptance. When "They" becomes "I" in our thought process, we can begin to clear our own obstacles and delusions.

In clearing ourselves we contribute to clarity in the world. When we nurture compassion and commonality in our hearts, we tend to find it in the world. When we search for meanings that empower all, uplift all, bring us together rather than leave certain ones behind, we discover the power of symbolic language.

          Check out "Turning They Into I" from Issue 21 of The Mindful Dragon, monthly museletter. 

Christmas, for me, is more than a holiday, it’s a state of mind that permeates into the heart and soul of my family.

I delight in the colors and bright lights, I adore the old world magic, focusing on the important people in my life, and finding endearing ways to let them know.

I value the creation and celebration of our traditions, wrapping our family in coziness, filling our days with an endless supply of cuteness, and finding the perfect tree.

I love how a snowman mug can make a morning chai even more of an event than it already is and how the most mundane things are infused with festivity.

I am intoxicated by the smells and flavors.

I enjoy in saying Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to strangers and find that I take more pleasure in shopping than I usually do.

I get a big kick out of wrapping the most humble and silly of gifts, (a pair of socks in a beautifully wrapped box with peculiar jingling sounds would not be unusual), watching the kids (even now) get excited as a new present appears beneath the tree, and waiting for them to finally go to sleep for reasons which I still refuse to name.

I adore dragging out the day so that there are still surprises to open in the afternoon, a slow pacing which we instilled in our children from their first Christmas.

I cherish that my parents come to stay with us every year and all the precious traditions that have emerged as a result.

I love the melodies, harmonies, and joyful themes of Christmas music and never seem to tire of listening and singing them every day of the season.

I totally dig the movies – from Die Hard to Miracle on 34th St – and am a sap for the heartwarming messages, the magic and adorable characters, both live and animated.

I love the love, kindness and spirituality, the excitement, joy and celebration.  And I absolutely love that it has become my families favorite time of year!

May your holidays be filled with joy and love and delight! 

As my son goes out on his first commercial audition, I am reminded of my first audition in the Big Apple, 19 years old and fresh off the boat from Honolulu.  I had left Northwestern University after only one year, gambling that I had enough of the right stuff to get myself on Broadway.  I figured that I could improve my acting and singing skills while gaining work from my dance.  It must have seemed like a very big gamble to my parents!  I, on the other hand, felt that I had used my year at college wisely, not only to gain experience but to analyze myself critically in a bigger pond.  At least, this was my hope.

So off I went to New York City.  I remember taking some form of public transportation from the airport to Grand Central Station where I then took a cab to the Upper East Side.  I had made arrangements to stay at the Allerton House for Women in a tiny room slightly bigger than the twin bed it contained with a bathroom down the hall. Having made all of these arrangements myself, my parents had only the barest idea of where I was going and how I expected to get there.  That sounds alarming to me now as a parent, but it wasn’t negligence.  I had already demonstrated this kind of self sufficiency back when I had visited several mainland colleges and then moved into Northwestern on my own.  (A story for another time.)  Besides, my sister lived in the city and knowing her, she had checked things out pretty thoroughly!  I’m sure everyone was very concerned but they all treated me with total confidence.  Anyway, this old building on East 57th has since been remodeled into a posh hotel but back in 1980 my window, overlooking the alley, only opened about 7 inches.  My thought on that first hot humid evening was that it was too small for a person to leap out.  But hey, I was in NYC and I was ecstatic!

I remember walking through Times Square that night (before it looked like Disneyland, when it was considered a red light district) taking in my city and looking for a place to eat.  I settled on some dive cafeteria style steak joint.  I believe it was called Flame Steaks, and believe me it was no relation to anything you might find on a google search!  This was beef on a budget that would have made Sizzler seem like Ruth’s Chris!  I remember the helpful, if grimy, fellow at the cash register admonishing me to never again use a traveler’s check to pay for a meal in that neighborhood.  In fact, I think he suggested that I never return.  Honestly, it’s a miracle that I didn’t get mugged.  Although I have no recollection, I’m certain that I was wearing some highly inappropriate Hawaiian style type of clothing involving a ridiculous amount of exposed young tan skin.  As I said, it was a miracle!

Well, over the next couple of weeks (perhaps not even that long) I found several great dance studios about town where I spent almost all of my days, had come close to finding an acting class and a singing teacher, and was definitely acquainted with Back Stage - a weekly trade paper where casting calls were listed for everyone, even those of us without agents or union affiliations.  This is where I learned of the audition for Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’, a huge Broadway hit at the time.  They were having a replacement call for one female dancer.  Why shouldn’t it be me?

I still remember the red spaghetti strapped leotard, flesh tights and character shoes.  (Funny how some things stick while others are forgotten.)  And I remember waiting… a long time.  First they held the audition for all of the Actor’s Equity Union dancers, about 300 of them.  Then they got to us lowly non-union dancers, about 400 of us.  They brought us up in groups of 50 to learn a brief combination for the first elimination.  Then they taught us a longer routine which we performed in smaller groups.  And on and on it went until there was only one non-union dancer left on that humongous Broadway stage – me.

I was shaking so badly, I could hardly breathe as they called the eleven union dancers back on the stage.  So there we were, an even dozen - eleven seasoned professionals and some 19 year old upstart from Honolulu.  I was shaking so badly, I could hardly … oh… I said that already.  We all danced the combination again and several more of the ladies were kindly cut - not at all like Simon Cowell – thank you very much!  Well, DANCIN’ (click the link to see the commercial from 1978), being a Bob Fosse show, had a very technical foundation underneath all that steam and sizzle, so they put us all on the spot with a clean, perfect, double pirouette.  No brainer.  Unless of course, you’re standing on a Broadway stage for the first time in your life, next to half a dozen professional dancers, being scrutinized by some the finest dance talent in New York City!  Did I mention that I had long ago stopped breathing?

It went down the line until it was my turn.  And so I turned.  And I shook.  They seemed to understand, after all, I was young.  They gave me another chance.  And I shook.  Then they gave me some encouragement.  This was when I realized that they really wanted to give me this job.  Oh My God!  So I took a deep breath (finally) and prepped my turn the way I had been skillfully trained, the way I had done thousands of times before.  And... I shook.  I probably heard the collected sigh.  I certainly felt it.  They thanked me very kindly and asked me to leave.

As I emerged into the bright sunlight I remembered a feeling of utter elation.  I knew, without a doubt, that I was in the right place at the right time, that I belonged there in the Big Apple.  I don’t think I will ever forget that audition.  It is embedded into my being and will always out shine any audition that I have had since.  Even the ones that I won.

Perception is experience
Experience is life

Every person’s perception is valid & inarguable
Even those we think are wrong, stupid or evil
Judgment will not invalidate it
Denial will not eliminate it
Evidence will not alter it

Perception existsBut perceptions can change.
More information.
A new point of view.

Opening our mind to the possibility
That we might not be… entirely right

Seeking to understand another perception
Rather than to invalidate it
With our certainty

Holding on to truth while
Abandoning the need to be right

Courageous responsibility yet
Refusing persecution

Wisdom gained from empathy
Compassion gained from wisdom
Integrity gained from compassion

We change our perception
We change our experience
We change life