You are an angel!

Years ago, when I was a delegate to regional and international Unity retreats and conventions, I was blessed to enjoy Karl Anthony's talents as a great singer. Although I could not carry a tune in a bucket or keep a key (I was booted out of chorus in elementary school, natch!), I loved hearing Karl serenade us with "Angel, angel, you are an angel...I see an angel in your eyes." This week, I have an angel in my life who has blessed me with a $1,500 donation to my upcoming pilgrimage to Israel. I am almost halfway there and I am more than a year away from heading out with Rev. John A.V. Strickland and the Atlanta Unity delegation to the Holy Land. Anything, I have learned as a Truth student, is possible if I put my heart and my soul into achieving my goal. My benefactor shall remain nameless as requested, but we all know that this person's light shines brightly through their faith in me to be the best delegate that I can be. If you would like to donate to my cause, no contribution is too small. Please see my previous post about how you can help. Anything is possible when we set our sights on putting UNITY in the commUNITY! Namaste.

Like a Mad Man

Not since "Melrose Place" in the 1990s that I have been riveted to a television series that has me all hyped-up over my 'stories' in ways that resemble my mother's fervor for "The Young and the Restless" and "Guiding Light." I should have known that this would be my new mania because I majored in communications and graduated from the University of North Florida and because I have always been fascinated by media history since I was old enough to read the newspaper. Instead, I denied myself this indulgence because I was always reluctant to buy into 'hype' around a television program because, more often than not, the Nielsen ratings have more clout than a loyal cadre of viewers who flinches at the fickleness of the American viewing public. But, I digress... I was summering in Bath, Maine with a friend of mine from junior high school. She was in love with Don Draper and was engrossed in the retro chicness of its era and the Martini-soaked lives that drifted through the smoke. I was on vacation and I was curious. Then, I was hooked. What is the point of blogging about a popular AMC program in a blog about a spiritual journey? Well, advertising can be broken down to selling and promoting one's talents. When we identify the skills and talents that we believe are marketable, we can direct our gifts into work for everyone's abundance. I used to say that I could never sell anything. Working as a telemarketer does wonders for the ego. Having been hung up on so many times and seeing that sales is something unattainable, I was selling myself short as well. I learned from my aunt that it was important to do what I like and to like what I do because the real value resides in not just the paycheck but the big picture. The pay may vary, but the satisfaction also comes from the intangibles. It means a lot to me to see former students and they let me know how grateful they are - and so am I.

Back on the chain gang

School is back in session again and I am beginning a new school year at Mayport Coastal Sciences Middle School. I teach sixth grade world history and I have a group of amazing students who are beginning their secondary education with me. I, too, was anxious and afraid when I first entered middle school because I was not sure of what this new school would do to me. Was it going to chew me up, spit me out and send me crying back to elementary school. Well, ready or not, the future is here and we can choose how we succeed if we put our minds and hearts into it. As we walk in the Light, here is a simple prayer for our new school year: A Student's Prayer Creator of all things, true source of Light and Wisdom, lofty source of all Being, graciously let a ray of Your Brilliance penetrate into the darkness of my understanding and take from me the double darkness in which I have been born, sin and ignorance. Give me a sharp sense of understanding , a retentive memory, and the ability to grasp things correctly and fundamentally. Grant me the talent of being exact in my explanations, and the ability to express myself with thoroughness and charm. Point out the beginning, direct the progress, help in the completion. Through Christ our Lord. St. Thomas Aquinas

FTW

Back in ancient times when I had a MySpace page, I wondered electronically about the possibility of being a failure as I approached my mid-30s. I was still single, had no children and rented an apartment in suburban Jacksonville.

To gain a greater perspective on my imagined competition that was causing my feelings of defeat, let's go back to the beginning. When I was spending the summer with my cousins in South Carolina and Maryland, we all played summer games on a level playing field. Although I was not the most physically coordinated child, I enjoyed our hide-and-go-seek, our foot races, and our youthful adventures.

Over the years, however, I felt like I was trapped in amber like a fossil while my generation lived their lives. They had children, they got married and they had more children. I felt great shame because I brought nothing to the table as my mother's side of the family was expanding and I seemed to be stagnating. My parents and maternal aunts and uncles were rightfully proud of the new blood in the family and I was simply becoming an irrelevant relic.

This seems to be the American way, right? We are always struggling to keep up with the Jonses to accumulate the most things in life. Yes, the two-car garage and the white picket fence figure in to that all as well, but I have struggled to be happy with myself unconditionally. Once I stop comparing myself to others, I know, I will be truly happy with all that I have and will stop seeking to be someone else.

Easier said than done. LOL!

This is the most frustrating part of my spiritual journey. I have spent much of my youth seeking approval from others. Although I know that it was to help me strive to be a better person, I still remember the times that my mother told me that I could not do anything right and that I was lazy. This admonishment has been a motivator and an albatross to be at the same time. Narcotics may never get the best of me, but the desire for approval and the desire to be liked have become my most incorrigible addictions.

I realize that the point of being on the path is to finally overcome and transcend, but some quests are more challenging than others for me. Between having a sister who is engaged to be married and a cousin who is expecting his fourth child, it does not seem to matter what I can do in life because I have failed in establishing a meaningful family of my own.

I bet you are asking why I am even writing this blog entry if there is no handy resolution to my situation. I guess it is out of my own understanding that this imperfect world will yield resolutions in its own time. As I pick up the puzzle pieces, I will find clarity as long as I realize that I have more growing to do and do not give up in my search for wholeness.

In the meantime, my mission is to teach myself and others that single does not have to mean lonely. I am grateful for the circle of friends that I have developed over the years through my school, my church, my work and my travels. And, in a time when single adults are outnumbering married adults, I dare say that I have become the Joneses in a weird way. But this does not matter as much as following my own bliss. Then, I will have truly won. FOR THE WIN

Postcards from the edge

I hope that my blog is of interest as I have a tradition of writing while I am on the road - especially my tradition of sending postcards.

I got this habit from a Norwegian Rotary exchange student who worked with me on my college newspaper in Douglas, Georgia.

Wherever Kjersti went, she sent postcards to her friends and family. She had a knack for choosing postcards that defied the typical 'Greetings from...' fare. She preferred choosing postcards more for their aesthetic qualities than for being a giant 'You are here' that we see in shopping mall directory kiosks.
When I began making road trips near and far, I took to sending postcards that also reflected my quirky tastes. I have mailed postcards with images of the now-defunct DeSoto automobile, the great actor Montgomery Clift and a Marc Chagall painting. When I correspond this way, it is my chance to revive, in my small way a variety of arts that seem to be fading.

First of the endangered talents is connecting with my friends and loved ones through putting pen to paper. For me, sending a few simple lines or a paragraph from afar is an old school 'shout out' to people and sending it in a very unusual and unexpected way. I know that I enjoy checking my mailbox, as I have since childhood, and delighting in finding a friendly message in my mailbox.

Secondly, sending postcards can spark renewed communications with those who otherwise would be lost or forgotten. For example, I exchange postcards with my kindergarten teacher. Over three decades since I left Ms. Nichols' class, we regularly send friendly and informal reports to each other about our respective travels and vacations. I look forward to each Christmas card time when my now-retired teacher updates me on her life and family in North Carolina. Through my writing to people, I learned that my former Sunday school teacher collects postcards. Judy's name is atop the list of people to keep in touch with while I am on the road.

Lastly, postcards are a selfish pursuit for me. Writing regularly, even after my school year is done for the summer, helps me to stay in the flow (To borrow a page or two from Eric Butterworth) as I learn to express myself more naturally each time I put my thoughts down. This added benefit of mental and spiritual renewal is why I highly recommend buying some novel postcards and a few postcard stamps.

Happy trails!

Life at the Meeks Compound

I am a very confused person.

It's not as much my permanent state of mind, but how I feel whenever someone says "John Meeks."

There are four men here who share the same name.

The first, my grandfather, turns 90 years old next month. This weekend, the town of Idlewild dedicated a park to him. It was a real joy to see this sweet Michigan town pay tribute to my Grandpa John.

The second and third are my father and my uncle. My dad is "John L." and my uncle is "Jack" for purposes of keeping things simple among the Meeks clan.

The youngest of the John Meeks club is yours truly. Thanks to great family, friendship and food this summer, my belly is slowly expanding to be like the first three Johns with the same last name. Note to self: time to hit the treadmill upon my return to Florida - LOL.

I was honored to participate in an interview with local television crew about my grandfather and the dedication of my grandfather's park. This event reminds me the good that lies in my name and the duty that I have to maintain my end of it in my corner of the world.

Building bridges

When I was younger, Unity's name had a profound effect on my thinking about my faith. I was able to embrace God with open arms unrestrained from the shackles of sect and sectarianism.

I remember how I built walls between myself and the world when I was a young Baptist. I hid within them from fear. I was afraid of beliefs that differed from mine because I knew that my way was the only way. I retreated behind these same walls when I felt challenged by what I felt to be opposing viewpoints.

As a YOUer, I did not know that I would soon confront divisions. This time, this was a barrier that stood between like-minded ministries that had a cold war of their own.

Nearly thirty years ago, my church was torn apart over a disagreement between the more traditional members who stood on the Bible and in the fundamentals of the Fillmores and the progressive members who sought to find alternative channels for expressing their Unity spirit.

The former group eventually left and formed their own Unity church across town. This happened years before I even began attending, but the aftershocks were still felt in our city.

One Sunday in 1992, I went with a fellow YOUer to see the 'other' Unity church for myself. I was curious to know more about a church that was in the same family but remained a mystery.

In the far reaches of Jacksonville's outer suburbia, I experienced a hidden gem tucked away in the woods that preceded the gas stations, shopping centers and gated communities that now define the area.

I received a Unity lesson and shared in the usual Unity joy with my new friends. I went home to share my new discovery.

As the time, however, I had committed a great sin. The 'other' Unity church was not our kind of people, I was told.

I learned the hard way that even good people have their walls to climb. Thankfully, I persisted even when I was made to feel unwelcome by 'hardliners' who wished to turn their backs on former members who struck off on their own.

Years later, through a strike of Divine Order, my work with the youth helped to reach out to our sister church. It was easier to build goodwill through preteen lock-ins or high school skate days than to change hearts that were obviously hard-wired to stay the course.

Before I knew it, our children were carpooling to regional events and I soon convinced my board of directors to attend board training at the church that dare not speak its name. Our exiled former ministers returned to our church when we created our minister emeritus position for our retiring co-minister.

Today, our two churches are supportive of each other in our missions to bring UNITY into the commUNITY.

This was a long time coming, but this is a shining light in my illuminated path to Truth.