Am I Able to Dance to Your Song ?

 I had the opportunity to meet Lungala Rubadiri, a well-educated East African with prefect English.  However, it was not his university degree with honors, which captivated me.  It was the amazing stories of rural hunter-gatherer village life.  It was the word of mouth teachings of family members told around the nightly fire of his native Uganda for generations.

My favorite is called “The Drums.”   A man sits before many drums.  Drums of all sizes and shapes.  Drums of every color and design.  He must be able to identify the drum that best represent his inter feeling.  There are many choices.  One cannot choose to play all the drums that are offered….all at the same time.  

He chooses the drum that connects with his heart and soul.  The drum that allows him to play the rhythm that resonates with his being.  When the right choice is made, the world will dance to the song!

So my question to you is, when I hear your song, does the mere sound of it make me feel like dancing?  If not, maybe it’s time to choose another drum.   If I can indeed hear your heart and soul resonate from your drum, well then let all who hear dance!

The following link is Lungala telling the story of the drum himself, enjoy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oCgs8fZyj8

Mark Behringer

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Benjamin’s Birthday

  At 1:48 p.m. Thursday Benjamin greeted the world for the first time.   A mere two hours after his birth the family would host a welcoming like none I have ever witnessed or been a part of before. 

 Now new born babes are not new to me, having experienced the birth of my own three children and having had visits with 4 earlier grandbabies within hours of each of their births. This one was different, much more of a party atmosphere.  As one who firmly believes that all things in life happen with purpose, it took me a few days of reflection to see the light of the gathering’s meaning.

Twelve of us celebrated together in the one small delivery room, passing the bundled Ben from one to another for each to hold and introduce ourself.  His mother, my daughter, looking amazingly fresh and joyful having produced the babe just two hours earlier, sitting up in what looked like some sort of cross between a bed and an EZ Boy recliner, all smiles. The child’s father seated next to her holding their baby Ben proudly.  A threesome all a glow, representing the love of family.  Four year old big brother Nick, trying his hardest to wait his turn to hold his new brother, Continue reading

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SomeMores !

Light snow falling. The crackling of a warm wood fire. A view out my window of ducks slipping and sliding on the frozen pond looking all the world, like waddling first time skaters.  

I would go out and shovel snow from the walk but the neighborhood kids are doing just fine, collecting the fresh whiteness for the world’s biggest snowman with top hat and all.

So I’ll just stay put, inside and try my hand at melting some chocolate with a golden, roasted marshmallow or two, and as I so do, dance ever so lightly to my favorite tune as I hold a glass of fine cherry brandy in my hand, happily connent with my snow day here at home!

“Where you live is just as important as what you live in.”

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6:30 a.m. Seattle Time

January, it’s dark at 6:30am a brisk 40 degrees with just a hint of light rain, in other words a great beginning to another fine Seattle day. Down at the boathouse, I with my fellow rowers carry our racing shell upon our heads, blocking the mist for a bit, and then with a unified choreographed roll, launch it into the black waters of Lake Union.  Seven hearty souls now a crew, out to enjoy the predawn day.

The city lights are amazing.  The high rise skyline, a shoreline clutter of floating houseboats and the orderly rows of moored yachts all doubly striking as their glowing lights, looking like an impressionistic painting, reflect in the morning’s still waters.  The only sound, that of six oars dipping into the water and the muffled sound of our coxswain calling the stroke from under her wound neck scarf. 

Water traffic is light which is good for our skinny craft, sitting barely 8 inches above the water with only a small dim bow light as the sole signal of our coming.  Not much for an incoming floatplane to see upon its approach for landing.  Makes me want to laugh as I think of what the rest of the world’s morning commuters are facing above, up on the freeway bridges now filling up with a long lines of  lights from Seattle bound trucks and cars.    

As we start through “the cut”, a man made canal connecting Lake Union to Portage Bay then on to Lake Washington, we encounter a REAL crew boat.  The University of Washington world class collegiate racing team.  We steer clear all the time pretending to be racing as equals for Olympic gold. 

Well so much for my morning workout and dreams of Olympic glory, time to head back as we stir up yet another small flock of ducks that soon silhouette against the first attempts of daylight.  A quick shower to warm up and relax those soon to tighten up muscles.  Yes, in other words, a great beginning to another fine Seattle day.

                             “Where you live is just as important as what you live in.”

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Within a Tango Embrace

It matters not whether it’s in a Paris nightclub enjoying the Montmartre district or in an open air street festival of Buenos Aires on a warm summer’s night.  Matters not if it’s with New York high life or a Seattle neighborhood community center, nor be it day light or moon light.

It matters not if you speak English or Chinese, whether you’re generation X or a baby boomer. If you came in a jet or in a horse drawn cart.  It doesn’t even matter if you are married or single.

As the melody strings come to life, a wonderful collection of moments start to unfold.  Moments made of two people walking together as one.  People from different backgrounds  with no thought of who or what anyone is or was before that moment. Coming together in a simple embrace.  Two living within a common melody, without the need for a single word spoken between.  A fresh, very personal, heartfelt interpretation unque to their embrace. Two strangers in the moment create as one, are strangers no more.

Now partners who for that single moment, share total acceptance of each other’s “whatever” world, while their own indiviual universes softly thouch… for a brief moment…living life’s common melody together …. within a Tango embrace.

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Christmas by Community

In my neighborhood down at the corner is a large lot, maybe more of a field.  It’s probably an acre or two.  Made up mostly of all native grasses, except for the Volunteer.  The city planning people left this ground open as a storm water runoff reservoir. The maintenance crews mow it once a year to control any fire hazard, but for the Volunteer.

Somehow the Volunteer got a hold and survived.  Survived the occasional spring flooding, annual mowing, the summertime play field activities and   even the winter “kid sled fest” on snow days.  But that’s what volunteers are, tough, steadfast not easily turned aside, just giving.

Who knows how it got there in the first place.  A bird, the wind, a kid’s pocket, but no one even knew of  it’s being until it started reaching skyward above the knee high grasses. For some reason the mower gang blades missed it and so it continued to grow, reaching about three feet and pushing higher. 

The Volunteer started to take shape, kind of like when a little girl starts becoming a woman.  A beautiful thing, neighborhood folk started to notice the Volunteer.   It marked the place you could run to and back, for a good game of chase in the middle of an otherwise empty sun filled field.

Someone got the idea that the neighborhood should start showing it some love, after all Christmas is supposed to be about sharing love, even to lonely stand alone volunteers.  Now almost six feet tall, first one handmade decoration was hung by no one in particular, then another by some passer by.   Bells made out of  bird seed started to appear bringing flocks of  wild canaries, adding their color and song to the Volunteer. 

Day after day the neighbor joggers and walkers pass hoping to find some new handmade marvel proudly shown off  by the Volunteer in our neighborhood field.  Children come to point and share to one another which is their gift to the Volunteer.

I do not have a Christmas tree this year.  The one I cut down in the nearby foothills went home with my son and his little family.

  http://www.authenticwritingprovokes.com/inspiredwriting/2011/11/scatered-seed-fell-fertile-ground/

I instead here in my Bridle Trails neighborhood of Kirkland,  have a tree of community down the street at the corner, in a field of neighbors all waiting for nature’s magical touch of a little snow.

As I have been known to say being the Real Estate broker that I am,

“ where you live is as important as what you live in.”

Mark Behringer   http://northwestlookingglass.com/

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Have a Nice Day…unless YOU have other plans.

As I have not yet reached the age when my wisdom has fermented long enough to surface eloquently, I  will share a  story I just read of an elderly gentleman who has aged with much wisdom.

A 92 year old, petite, well poised and proud man, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with his hair fashionably combed and shaved perfectly, even though he is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.

His wife of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, he smiled sweetly when told his room was ready.

As he maneuvered his walker to the elevator, the nurse’s aid, provided a visual description of his tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on his window. “I love it.” he stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy. “Mr Jones, you haven’t seen the room;   just wait.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time.

Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged.. it’s how I arrange my mind.

I already have decided to love it.”

Wow!  After reading of his prospective, I was shaken to remember my own daily routine.   Attitude is everything.  Be it the child that has not yet learned he can’t.  An athlete that excells because of his heart, not his talent.  Or my own  terminaly ill Grandmother that said, “I’m still here and I’m not done yet !” and lived far longer than medical science could perdict. Attitude, does not depend on how the furniture of our life is arrange.  Attitude is a decession we make about ourselves ahead of time. 

I have decided to have a nice day and to love it. 

If you have other plans about your day, be prepared to be bowled over.   Not by me and my “lovin’ it” attitude but….by YOUR OWN arrangement of doubt in your mind.

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Like a Bird on a Wire

While on my morning walk about, I noticed a bird. He noticed me.

He was just sitting there alone on a wire, halfway between two utility poles.  I looked his way and said hello. He fluffied his feathers in acknowledgement. I think he’s a Red Tail Hawk.  Hey! bird on a wire, you do know the whole world is going wireless and you soon will  have no wire to rest upon. He turned his… head side to side, I guess to get a better view of me.  He then spread out, first unfolding one wing then another and at the sametime raising a leg , balancing  only on the one remaining.  I took this as a sign. The Hawk was showing me, that he really didn’t need the wire at all.   For as in the Leonard Cohen song, he’s just a ‘Bird on a Wire’ and as am I, just a lookin’ to sail free upon the opportunities in the wind .

Today will be a good day for us both, as we each go our way feeling free and feeling fine, each ready to spread our wings to a new day of opportunity.

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Time In A Bottle, a Portal to the Past

I’ve just returned from ten days in California to attend to my mother’s failing health.  I never imagined discovering a hidden portal to the past, “Time in a Bottle.” A most magical experience.

It all started while spending 24/7, well in this case 24/10, enduring another time phenomenon, a black hole.  You see my mother’s home, where I served that 24/10 is a black hole when it comes to technology. No internet, no computer, no cable TV (just three local channels one of which is in Spanish), and get this, a rotary dial phone…in the latest 1950’s pastel. 

As my mother slept or rested a lot, I was left to my own to entertain myself. That’s when I started exploring around the house she had bought, shortly after my father’s death. My father’s stuff is stored in one of the otherwise empty front bedrooms. Most of which is still in boxes from the move ten years prior.  As I started unpacking each box of this and that, I came to “The Box.” The time in a bottle box. The magical Genie in the old lantern box.   

In it I found, near the bottom, six 4×6 memo pads, or as my mother referred to them “shorthand spiral pads.” Each filled with notes in my father’s hand, written in pencil.  “Mom !  What are these?”  “Oh, those,” she answered in one of her, I think I’m feeling better moments. “ Your Dad would take those out from time to time, after a particularly  satisfying dinner and then go sit in his office.”

“Did you ever read them?” “No, he never offered to share them. To my knowledge, no one has ever read or seen any of it,” she tells me, as she partly disappears in a sea of pillows. 

I hold each up for a moment, half afraid to read the contents. Then carefully blow the dust off…..as if letting the magic genie out of the bottle.  Each is filled with random notes. Notes about his early childhood as a poor barefoot boy growing up on the Texas, Louisiana boarder hunting for squirrels to help feed his sisters. A list of every car he ever owned.  How much it cost, what he did to it and with it.  What he sold it for and to whom. Notes about his time in the WWII.  Dates and titles of every job he had.  Basically all sorts of notes going back to 1921 until 1996, the date of the last entry. He died in 2000.

I felt I had stepped through time, the first to have ever read these notes. I was having the most amazing, very personal conversation with him, like none I had ever had before.  I began reading them out loud to my mother.  She laid there with eyes closed and made comments, sometimes in her own voice, but more often in my father’s voice, filling in some of the additional details. 

Her general condition seemed to show marked improvement after completing all six tablets.

Now dear reader, my point in telling this story is simple.  We each have the ability to become the portal.  To write in our own hand, upon a tablet that can be held and touched by maybe some yet born child of the future so they too will have their time in a bottle. The magic !

I challenge you and myself to have a conversation with the future.

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Must Love Dogs and Babies?

Never have I understood why people get all gushy over the mere mention of a baby or a dog.

PEOPLE!, babies are self centered little bald aliens that spit up on you, scream bloody murder and expect you to drop everything NOW to attend to them, in your own house, your castle! (And yes, I once was one though my mother tells me I was beautiful despite being premature and blue and well, just a lot of extra work.)

Dogs are not much different just furrier and faster but, they at least seem to show their appreciation with an occasional wag of the tail.

Babies and Dogs are not what I count among my favorite things. And the following video is a fine illustration…

Babies and Dogs not my favorite things because…

Now here’s the “BUT” part of my story….they, both babies and dogs, just love me! I mean, if there’s a screaming, totally out of control little bald alien, just hand the thing over to me and guess what…….peace returns to planet Earth.

No, I didn’t do anything awful to the little invading beast. I do though have three fairly well adjusted kids (well at lease two of them are, jury is still out on the third, who can get himself lost at the drop of a hat) but I digress. Hand me a screaming baby and Wah La!, like magic, peace and order returns to the world.

About dogs and me…..put a roomful of people together and turn a dog loose (big, little, male, female, friendly or not) and the dog after one or two laps around the room will come over to me and put its head on my knee (big dog) or jump up into my lap (small dog). Truly amazing!!! Where do these life forms get off liking me?

In both cases, baby and /or dog, when we do happen to encounter one another, I will explain to them very calmly and slowly, that I’m not really all that crazy about us being put together. They both seem to listen very carefully while making eye contact and making those soft little guttural sounds, then they will smile and wag their tail. Not nessarily in that order or both responses by all of the parties. We just agree to accept the reality of being truly present with each other at that moment in time.

OK, what’s the point of my little confession? What have I learned from this apparent freak of nature that is worth sharing with you? Just this. If you are only you and try not to be everything to everyone, most all people and animals will respect that.

They will find comfort in knowing that you know who you are, which in turn puts them at ease.

Babies and dogs can pick up almost instantly on your true self, your true intent. They can cut through all the confusion and smoke screens to enjoy your authenticity. The simple wonderment of you being you.

To put this in a business context, be true to your passion, your target market, your ideal client and who you are. Who knows what stray dog will show up in your lap? Or what baby will be laid upon your doorstep?

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