A boy sat quietly next to his father as he watched wood chips fly. His father’s hands were almost a blur as the ax gracefully moved over the log. To the boy’s amazement, the beak of a huge bird was beginning to take shape right before his eyes. The wings were beginning to look real and magnificent with every swing of his father’s ax as it carved more tiny feathers. His father wiped his face and took a long, deep drink of the cold spring water the boy had brought him. The man’s eyes never wavered once as he gazed at the loving yet calculated way the transforming piece of wood looked and felt.

“What do you see, Father?”
His son’s voice startled his father. His eyes rapidly focused as he smiled while saying;

“Look here, my son, and you will see the spirit of the wood. To create these great totems, I must first become one with the wood. Tools alone won’t set the images free. Look here at the grain of the wood, see how it moves throughout the wood? Feel it, let the wood speak to you. It would be best if you let the spirit in the wood tell you what to do next. For me, to make the next cut, I must be gentle. I just barely cut the surface, or the beak will crack. Can you feel it?”

The boy’s tiny hand lingered on the log for quite some long time as his father watched in silence. Finally, the boy nodded as he said, “I feel a tiny river of energy flowing through my hand. It tickles. But if I push down too hard, it stops.” The father smiled and nodded to his son. With a smile in his heart and on his face, he picked up the knife and began to carve again.  After a few moments, his father said:

“Tools are important. I must care for my chisels and keep them sharp and free of rust. I must learn what my tools can do, how to use them, and how to care for them. But my most important tool is in my heart, where my spirit lives. My mind cannot guide me; it sees an image and forgets to listen. Then the wood breaks, and I must start all over.”

“My son, you must learn to listen to your heart. Listen when your heart tells you about life. Listen when it tells you to let go or move on. Listen when it tells you it is time to stand your ground or when it is time to go beyond your mind’s fear and change. Your mind will run from change; it will run from fear and in the running leads you into greater fear. Learn to listen to your heart, my son; it is the most important tool you will ever have.”

The boy quickly asked, “how do I learn to hear my heart, Father? So often my mind fools me, I think I am listening to my spirit only to find it’s my mind filling me with its lies.”

His father quickly shared that “first you must learn how to listen, my son. Listen to the wind, feel the rain, walk in the woods, and ask nature to teach you. Practice humility, practice saying “I don’t know.” The mind always knows the answer, it always knows what’s right and what’s wrong, and it will always have an opinion.”

His father’s voice was silent for a few moments as he put away his tools.  Some time passed until he said: 

“Son, the mind usually lies. Just as it took me time to learn how to use this chisel, learning to listen to your heart will be a journey. Discipline and dedication with a sincere desire to listen to your spirit will set you free. The human heart has a quiet, gentle whisper. It reminds you of your perfections and talks to you in the language of love.” However, the mind is sometimes more like a crow; loud, bold, and raucous. It reminds you of your limitations and why you can’t do something. Its language is fear. “

“That is why my son, I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.
The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers his fear.”

Amen – Dr. Deb



Frequently the poets, misfits, artists, movie-makers, dreamers, and outsiders force us to see the world differently.  It has been said misfits and weird people belong only to themselves, and when they try to embrace being something different, they frequently become more socially “odd”.

Now that is odd.  In my opinion, weird people belong everywhere because every person belongs only to themselves – not others.  They rock in my mind.

Love and kindness to all those folks who are seen as being weird.

Dr. Deb


Finding My Voice

To find my voice
I will change the rules,
shift the world
with gentle words,
lift the world
so you might hear what I have to say.

I have been looking for my voice
Because without it,
I am alone

But now in sharing with you
I found my voice.

Written By Dr. Deb

After a while, we learn the subtle differences between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And we learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and infatuation is not real,

We also begin to realize kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promised,

With our head held high and eyes wide open, we accept defeats with graceful acceptance instead of anger,

And learn only we can build the path of our life upon the truth of today because tomorrow’s ground is unknown,

And we may even learn sunshine can burn if we get too much,

So, my friends, plant the garden of your soul with flowers chosen only by you,

Learn from all events, and know you are powerful.

Nurture your soul-garden with self-love, practice kindness, and always know you are one-of-a-kind, priceless, and forever eternal.

Written by Dr. Deb

It seems almost everyone we walk by on the street, or casually speak with at a coffee shop, have a story that could rock our world one way or another. Their story could be uplifting or totally wrench our hearts into a fist-full of nails from the sadness and pain. We have a 50/50 chance of hearing the Dahli Lama’s inspiring words or the “damn my life sucks worse than yours’s ever could” complaints.

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!  Do people really talk to each other in-person?  Hmmm, I haven’t noticed much of that of late. When I go to the coffee shop, which is rare, I use the drive-up window. But wow, when I’m in the grocery store, my head needs to be able to spin 360 degrees to focus on avoiding being run over by people blindly driving their carts as they mindlessly text, read emails, or mindlessly talk-talk-talk on their cell-phone.

The question is this: do people REALLY see or hear each other?  Where the hell has the art of conversation gone – real words spoken orally – not digitally produced and sent into the ethers to another machine. Another question.  Do you know your neighbors? Do you talk to them more than once a year?  What I’m getting at is most of us probably feel like we are never seen or heard – even when having an in-person conversation. Some folks only listen to themselves talk and rarely listen to what the other person might have to say because they focus on their next response.

Is it the other persons’ fault we don’t feel seen or heard – OR – are we making ourselves small and silent because we are afraid to be seen and heard. The reasons why we would feel the need to make ourselves little can be multifaceted and complicated. Rough childhoods, fear of terrorism, losing a way of life, and living in the streets only to be ignored and forgotten is horrific.  Our current world history showing us how dangerous life can be, or maybe we are learning to fear speaking up.

Now wouldn’t that be sad . . . let’s not forget to use our voice.

Dr. Deb

Broken Lines

Our lives do not often follow straight lines that would take us from one event to another or from point A to point B.  Many lifelines are created by broken lines – those lines formed by unexpected turns that make us feel like we’ve been on a long, continuous chaotic path. In truth, it wasn’t chaotic at all.

When you step back to see where you’ve been, you will probably notice an intricate pattern full of the vivid colors of life. That pattern was stitched together from what may have felt like nothing more than a pile of mismatched scraps of life, broken hearts, awful events, and chaos.  But again, when you step back, you’ll see there was a design plan all along – and you were the designer.

Throughout life, the broken, crooked and straight lines will randomly occur. Those lines then intersect with other lines – each being an intricate part of the universal design whether our path in life is straight or broken.

It’s those colorful woven masterpieces we weave together that keeps us connected.

I THANK YOU for connecting.

Dr. Deb

Poetry of Dragons

To the mind, words are “stations” full of our life’s infinite experiences.  A person’s words reach both our distant past and the present moment as they wiggle their way into our equally unimaginable distant future. The audible will always cling to our form of thinking. As we all have experienced, we can be both truly magical and manic at the same time.

The essential nature of words cannot be exhausted by their meanings.  Nor can the importance of words be ignored because “words” are useful “transmitters of thoughts and ideas.” Words express the qualities of translatable concepts – somewhat like the sound of a melody. I believe each of us is gifted with the ability to discover the healing power of the words  – they contain our internal “melody.”

Words can also be a source of healing. They enable our ability to dream, creativity, self-identity, and all the other innards that make each of us so unique. It helps each of us live with our choices. Choices can help us understand ourselves more clearly as we learn to become our own keeper, healer, judge, and self-advocate.  That is when we become authentic. That’s when we flourish.

This website is about the various ways we can transform ourselves and maybe a bit of humanity. It’s all about the raw truths of living life authentically while trying to survive the painful challenges of life at the same time. That is when we learn to soothe the mind, body, soul. That’s where we will find the power of our personal dragons.

Please feel free to comment or ask questions about this website.  With conversations, we always create stimulating connections that expand the mind and open the heart. I’d love to hear from you.

Dr. Deb

Pray for the Children

I have no parents
I made heaven and earth my parents
I never give up on others
while holding the hand of those in pain

I pray for the children
Who put chocolate fingers everywhere
Who likes to be tickled
and stomp in puddles

I pray for those behind barbed wire
Who can’t walk in new sneakers
Who have no blanket to keep warm
With no bread to steal

I pray for the children who want
to be carried and for those who must,
And I pray for those who never give up
because they didn’t get that second chance.

I pray for the photos that never sat on my dresser
once I learned monsters were, in fact, real,
I will cry from the memory of my nightmares
as I hold my hand out to you for peace.

By Dr. Deb

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