There it was, right on a bus bench. “Hold that Thought.”

Why should you hold a thought. . .  any thought for that matter?


The image was a person putting their phone down before they crossed in front of the bus, but I was instantly inspired in a different direction.

   I realized that title was the perfect name for my blog that I had temporarily called “Thought for the Day.” Somehow I knew that title wasn’t quite right.

   No sooner did I see the phrase on the bench, a new inspiration struck.

“AThought Worth Holding Is an Idea Worth Spreading.”

Wasn’t that what I was aiming to accomplish? A thought is a single moment’s focus, but an idea is a thought that inspires others’ thoughts. Those inspired ideas coalesce and ignite paradigm shifts.


What if more people shared the thought and vision of a world filled with:

People who have strength of character, who are joyful, and who understand the value of profound cooperation over trivial competition. Where might you begin? Would you begin in your own home.

What if you modeled for your child those strengths of character and joy. What if your child is a master—capable of making a difference in the world?

 Despite the many seemingly unresolvable “problems” of our time, I know we can guide our children to become Masters who create the solutions. But we must start with the clarity that knows that we, as parents, and our children are Master Co-Creators. We are capable, incomparable geniuses who will create the solutions.

As you and your child connect to the joy of your Higher Self, you will find the desire to develop your character and talents and find the invincible power within you to give the world your gifts.

Master Co-Creating does not happen overnight, but it does begin to unfold as you take the first step to guide your emotions toward joy.

Imagine this.  It’s 1862. You are a 13-year-old boy with tuberculosis and, because the disease has spread to your legs, your doctors have told you that they must remove one leg immediately and probably the other one as well. . . if you survive.

What would you do?


William Henley decided to write this poem.


William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

*“Invictus” is Latin for “undefeated.”


Now, fast forward 100 years later. Nelson Mandela is serving a 27-year prison sentence in Robben Island Prison. Nelson reads that same poem to other prisoners to inspire them, to empower them, to free them from the bondage of their own minds so powerfully that the bars of their prison become a diffuse backdrop to their inner reality of invincibility.

“I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.”

There are no more powerful words than these to describe the power and invincibility of being a Master Co-Creator. These words are the hallmark of truly successful people who make no excuses, allow no conditions-horrific or otherwise, nor justify any limits to their own Self-Mastery.

“Now why, you say, does that matter?


Allow me to share my story. . .

Thirty odd years ago, I journeyed up the West Coast of California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Montana on my bicycle.  For our honeymoon, my former husband and I decided to cycle our way through the West with nothing more than what we could carry in our bicycle packs filled with tent, sleeping bags, cooking equipment, a few changes of clothes and a few nutritional items to sustain our basic needs. 

We spent a relaxing—mostly—journey exploring at whim the beautiful ocean coast of California, the breathtaking forests of Oregon, and the vast mountains and skies of Montana. Because we were on a limited budget, we often camped out alongside the road, sometimes campgrounds or facilities that had showers.  Rarely, we had to skip a day or two to find a shower, a hot spring, or some soothing place to wash away the dust and sweat of our 60-100 miles-per-day cycling adventure. Most of the time, we found a place to wash. . . until the time we couldn’t.

At first, we couldn’t find any shower for a day or two. By day three, we found ourselves diligently seeking for somewhere to shower. Day four saw us as two desperate, increasingly pungent travelers focused intently on finding the elusive shower.

Halfway through day five, I experienced a psychotic break from the world of grunge and road sludge. I had to find somewhere to wash. Anywhere. I didn’t care where. I just HAD to WASH my body! As we went through some small town with nothing much more than a liquor store and a post office, I spotted my prospective bathhouse. Or, at least a place with a sink where I could sponge bathe the grime away. My skin screamed, “Wash me!”—like a decades-old-Datsun with muddy windows just begging to be written on by bored, but prolific adolescents.

It was love at first sight— A Dairy Queen!

Ice cream was the furthest from my mind. This Dairy Queen had a public bathroom with a lock on the door. I strategically plotted my invasion to occupy the bathroom and straight away stripped off the fetid clothes I had forced myself to wear for too many days.

In a matter of minutes, I was physically refreshed, clean, scrubbed bright like a shiny new penny.  I was overjoyed and re-invigorated to continue our journey once more. This gave me pause to consider places I would never go for lack of my need for cleanliness. I realized I could never be an astronaut and be forced to endure the lack of bathing for days or even weeks on end. 

I love water and that refreshing, enlivening blessing of liquid warmth that washes away my sleepiness, my sweat from hard labor, my tension from the day, or the achiness of old joints that melt under the warmth of my blessed fountain of youth.

There are so many wonderful things in this world that I savor, . . . things I deeply appreciate, that remind me how blessed I am, like:

Kisses from my granddaughter—sweet and tender, precious, and heart-melting;

ombre sunsets of golden orange, fuchsia pinks, and plum purples;

Syncopated splashes on rocks as water traverses through a sculptured paradise of Ferns and ancient, wizened trees who whisper quiet poetry in the breeze; and the

Intoxicating smells of the first roses of spring and rich, fragrant earth after gentle rain.

Is it absence of these heavenly joys, like my 5-day adventure without showering, that makes us appreciate the abundant flow of goodness all around us? Or is it simply a matter of attention to what matters most?

             The magnificent view from a spaceship of the beautiful blue marble we call home might be well worth the temporary withdrawal from all the sweet things I cherish.


Today, I will appreciate the beauty around me.

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