by Belinda Lams

I had finally mustered up the courage to share my opinion in a group discussion.
Immediately, I was corrected by a woman who told me that I was wrong and proceeded to explain how her opinion was the right opinion.

While I listened to her expound on why I needed to think like her, I felt this underlying pain inside. She touched an old wound that had been lying dormant for a while. 

I learned long ago not to share my opinions with certain people and then I wouldn't have that pain. But instead, I decided to risk and there it was...the old wound being irritated by the salt of her words.

I began to do what I normally do; mull it over and over, indulging the pain, then making a vow to never do THAT again. It's kind of like throwing a bandage over a large bleeding cut that really requires stitches in order to heal properly. The bandage will protect for a bit. It's a quick, temporary measure. But, anytime the wound is bumped, the bleeding will start again. 

But this time, instead of going down my well-worn path of putting on the bandaid, I remembered that I could do something different. I  became curious about my old wound. I decided that perhaps it was time to find healing. 

Old wounds are only recurring because we haven't healed them yet. So, when pain surfaces, perhaps it is telling us that it wants to be healed. We have the choice to exacerbate, tolerate, ignore, or shove it back into the depths. We also have the choice to bring it up, examine it, and give it some proper stitches.

I chose stitches. It will take a while to heal. I know it must be consciously cared for until the pain diminishes. Hopefully, I'll only be left with a small scar to remind me of the choice I made.

by Belinda Lams

I love to help people find a compelling vision for their lives. What we can envision is possible to actualize. 

We are all beneficiaries of people who have taken a vision in their heads and created a genius invention, a piece of art, a curriculum, a formula, a cure.

All of the great imagineers hit a wall; that stuck place where they can't find their next step. It may feel like a crisis and the temptation is to give up. However, the wall has a door, but it needs to be found. The problem isn't the lack of a door, but the inability to "see" the door. 

Here are some blocks that prevent "sight" and some simple remedies (And yes, please try these at home):

•It's too dark. Get more light.
•Your vision is blurry. Use magnification.
•You have cataracts. Get surgery to peel them off.
•You're wearing dark glasses. Remove them.
•Your eyes are closed. Open them. 
•Your eyes are diseased. Seek healing. 
•You're looking in the wrong direction. Turn your head.
•You're staring at the door, but your mind is elsewhere. Wake up and be present.
•You're staring at the door and don't recognize it. Get a new perspective.

Where is your door? 
What is blocking your vision? 
What do you need in your life to help you see?

by Belinda Lams

The other day, I was about to walk past the 99-year-old father of my friend. I said a passing hello, when he grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks. I've had conversations with this gentleman in the past, but none as intent as this one. 

He said in his thick Hungarian accent, "Do you know how old I am?" 

"Yes," I replied.  "You're 99."

He continued, "That's right. I want to make it to 100.  I'm almost there."  

I politely tried to excuse myself and move on with my original objective, but he insisted on keeping me there. He told me about his life, about his wonderful son and three granddaughters...all the while firmly gripping my arm and looking deeply into my eyes. I finally succumbed to his wishes and shifted my attention to being present and listening well.  It was as if he desperately needed me to know his story. 

I just found out that he passed away. He didn't make his 100th birthday. 

A wise friend of mine said that when people are on their way out (aware of it or not) they are often compelled to tell their story. It's as if the soul knows it's going to leave soon.  (Beverly apparently did the same thing before she died. See my previous blog "What Death Teaches About Life").

If the soul knows it's going to leave and wants to be known before it departs, then perhaps the story we're writing with our lives is even more important than we realize.

Something in us wants to leave a legacy. We want to know that our life mattered.

What is the story you want to write with your life? What is the legacy you want to leave behind? What are you willing to do about it?