All of us make mistakes. We harm one another. We hurt ourselves. We break promises to our loved ones; we are unfaithful, we don’t spend meaningful time with those we care about. We are impatient with and judge one another, a form of emotional and spiritual abuse. Or, we develop an addiction to work or alcohol or drugs, which harms ourselves and causes pain to everyone who loves us.

For most of us, it is too painful and shameful to look at the ways we harm ourselves and others. Instead, we make excuses or criticize someone else.

Enormous strength and courage are needed to look deeply at our lives and acknowledge the harm we’ve done. If we try to do that, an intense internal struggle takes place. We want to avoid the shame and grief and even horror we feel as we begin to acknowledge our mistakes. Many of us short-circuit this incredibly difficult process.

Yet, we must go into this “dark night of the soul” in order to really grow emotionally and spiritually. We must take responsibility for what we’ve done, the time we’ve wasted, the pain we’ve caused. We must bear the grief and pain and guilt.

Then we must accept our humanness and forgive ourselves.

It takes enormous strength, honesty and integrity to face ourselves, and whenever possible — when it does no additional harm — the person we’ve wronged. Out of the process of admitting our mistakes grows the strength to express our sorrow and regret, our desire to make whatever amends we can, and our commitment to never make that mistake again.

This is the human journey, a journey of emotional and spiritual healing that leads to growth and ultimately expanded consciousness. We become more aware and insightful, more responsible and careful, more conscious of the spiritual purpose of every choice we make, and more compassionate and loving.

The possibility of growth often starts with a mistake. The more serious the mistake, the greater the potential growth. Growth is nurtured with self-reflection, honesty, persistence, and the courage to acknowledge the harm we have done. Acceptance, forgiveness and compassion from ourselves and at least one other person promote healing. The integrity to admit our wrongs helps build the internal strength needed to do no harm in the future and to accept the consequences of the mistakes we made.

The change process is thoughtfully discussed in additional depth in The Art of Happiness, A Handbook for Living, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, M.D.

Mistakes begin in pain, shame and sorrow and are resolved in the honesty, courage, and integrity needed for emotional and spiritual growth.

Welcome! I’ve been thinking about the commonalities between spiritual guidance, inspiration and creativity. Here are some thoughts. What do you think?

When receiving spiritual guidance, inspiration, or a burst of
creativity, we access our right brain and our subconscious mind.

We surrender day-to-day left brain control and open up to messages and symbols from outside ourself.

Often there is a sense of merging with something greater and letting go of individual ego.

This immersion often results in a contribution that generalizes beyond ourselves, to other people, other species, and/or our planet.

Messages or direction often comes in symbols, signs or in other unexpected ways.

Trust seems essential; trust in a process that may be frustrating, puzzling, slow and confusing.

Receiving guidance, inspiration and creativity all seem to require releasing or persevering inspite of psychological blocks such as self-doubt, fear, sense of inadequacy, self-criticism.

Share your stories, insights and comments! Visit again for
additional discussion about spirituality, creativity, energy, the
consciousness in everything, psychic and extraterrestrial experiences, and MORE!

Check out the following small example of guidance and creativity when I let go of frustration and judgment.

IRISH HARP MAGIC

The Irish folk harp can create peace and joy.
Sometimes it creates magic.

One beautiful sunny summer afternoon, I went to my favorite spot in a large public park. The trees form a semi-circle and I wanted sit in their presence and celebrate their old strength and wisdom. When I drove up, I realized I’d been pretty unrealistic — the park was noisy and crowded on such a lovely weekend day and a trio of teenagers were loudly playing their
boom box right next to “my” trees. Although I couldn’t see other people, there was a great deal of background noise: people playing games, laughing, talking, eating, socializing. I was angry and frustrated and thought about leaving. I wanted serenity.

I took some deep breaths, calmed down and decided to see what happened. In a few minutes, the harp was set up. Encircled by the wonderful trees, the harp and I rested on the
lush grass, quietly playing one of my favorite tunes about great and small fairies. In a matter of minutes, the boys turned off the boom box, packed up and quietly drove way.

I continued to play, the harp resting against my shoulder, my cheek against the sound board, arms wrapped around the strings. The air seemed exceptionally bright and clear. Birds singing in the background gradually became silent. A trio of tiny children, probably 2 and 3 years old, walked up from somewhere behind me and sat down within three feet of the harp, immediately still and absorbed. Unlike the physical activity small children usually generate, they were motionless, gazing intently at the harp, seemingly mesmerized by the
music. No adults were evident. I looked at children and smiled; they continued to listen with total fascination for an amazingly long time. Then without interrupting or speaking a word, they stood up simultaneously and walked away.

The birds remained quiet, as if entranced with this new sound. The entire park had gradually become still, listening to the harp music float over it from an unseen source. While the music drifted through the park, every creature was caught up in the magic.

After about an hour, I stopped playing. The silence lingered, as if everything held its breath, wondering if the music would resume. Gradually the birds began to chirp, slightly hesitant, as if apologizing for breaking the silence. People slowly started to talk and laugh as the magic gently dispersed.

Ordinary time and space returned. At least for the moment. Or so it seemed.