Day 13

12 Minutes of Tingling, Joyous, Fabulous, Transcendent Love flowing through my heart and hands

I just completed another session of Love, and each time, it is feeling better and better. We are having a nice, lazy Saturday morning. I went into our room and sat on our bed, listened to my Reiki Toning Audio, and used my breath and my imagination to flood Love through my hands.

I am discovering more and more:

Universal Love, Energy, Light, Prana, Chi, whatever name you put on it, is both present in every moment of time, and transcends time as well. It is timeless. It flowers from the consciousness of now.

The human energy field, the body and the brain, is a conduit of this Love. Anyone can use their breath, imagination, and simple intention to direct this Love to any place, any person, any time. There is no need to be trained in Reiki or any other energy modality.

Love is unlimited. Love is beyond the reach of all seeming laws of time and space.

Love is uncomplicated in its power, innocence, and simplicity. It is a purity, a light, that is at the center of our hearts.

Love can be channeled/directed/communicated to hundreds of thousands of beings and people at the same time.

In Love, we discover that we are Infinite Beings, not limited to bags of skin and bones, but of the Heavens, beyond everything we could ever even conceive ourselves to be.


Polko-ah-Polko (Spanish for "little by little") and my Dad


A whole book could be written about Alexander Derr Peebles, my dad. He was a charming, gritty, funny, quirky, angry, and laughing-alot attorney who practiced law for over 60 years. He went to law school during The Great Depression, and built a career representing all forms of hooligans in the 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, and 90's. in Kansas City and Hermitage Missouri. He passed away in 2002 after spending a year in a nursing home.

He was 57 when I was born, and around 85 when I finally, reluctantly, took and passed the bar exam. Back in the summer of 1985, after graduating high school and before college, I went to Hermitage for the summer and worked for him. Working for my dad was quite the experience, because he loved to work himself. (Talk about hard, pounding, physical labor. Ax work, loading rock, pounding rock with a sledgehammer - the harder the work, the bigger was his smile)

We worked in the thick woods of the Ozarks, with armies of ticks, chiggers, mosquitos, and huge horse flies constantly on the attack. We chopped, whacked, and cleared away brush and trees, and started huge fires and burned them all. I will never forget the searing heat on my face from the fire, and the blistering heat from the summer on my back. My whole body drenched in sweat. My face covered in dirt. I was also using drugs and drinking very heavily at the time. I drank and smoked weed all night, and worked my ass off all day.

I am getting to the point.

I will never forget the strength and stamina of my dad when it came to working in the woods. He was probably around 79 or 80, and I was 18.

Starting fires:

I will never forget the process of starting fires. My dad would say, "Start little. Start with little twigs!" We would clear a patch, and practically hug the earth. Then we would take itty-bitty little twigs, and start the fire. Slowly, we would nurse it, build it, and before long, it would be a huge bonfire, and we would be throwing huge trees and brush on it. (The idea was to clear away the small trees and brush, so people could walk through a lot to see if they wanted to buy it)

The Point is Polko-ah-Polko

I remember countless times when I would be swinging the ax and machete like a mad-man. Within 10 minutes, I would be laying down on my back, completely out of breath and looking up in amazement at my dad, SLOWLY chopping, whacking, and carrying the brush to burn. He went slow. He chopped slow. He worked me under the table.

Then he would walk past me, "Polko-ahhh-Polko, little by little," he would say in a deep voice, clearly enunciating each syllable. I can still hear his voice in my head, and it brings tears to my eyes. I feel his presence, his Love that transcended his life, flowing into me. All I have to do, is say these words slowly:

Polko-ahh-Polko, little by little.

And I feel a timeless connection with my ole pops! With these words, Love flows like a waterfall down my spine. I hear his voice as clearly in my head now as I did in the summer of 85.

At the time, I got so sick and damn tired of him saying that all the time. It drove me nuts. But looking back, I can clearly see that he was teaching me something incredible and timeless.

Start small, go slow, and keep going. Be patient! Don't try to hurry the fire.

He used to say, "let the fire do the work."

With hindsight, I can see what an incredible lesson. In those sweaty, hot woods around those fires, my dad taught me something timeless.

That's what I am doing now.

Little by little, 12 minutes at a time, I am building a bonfire of Love in my heart.

I am starting little, going slow and steady, and pretty soon, that fire of Love in me will be huge. I am taking all the brush, all the weeds, all the sticks, all the illusions that separate me from my Divinity, and I am throwing them on the bonfire. Every day I spend just 12 minutes and send Love through my hands, the little fire in me is growing and growing.

Let the fire do the work

Translation: Let the Love flooding through my heart, mind, and hands do the miracles. All I have to do is nurture the flame, and the flame will perform the miracles.

The last time I really connected with my dad

It was around 2002, maybe four or six months before he died. I went to visit him in a hospital in Bolivar Missouri. He was completely immobolized. The invincible Alex Peebles who could work me under the table in the woods, was dying.

He couldn't speak.

We spoke, instead, with our eyes. He looked at me with a timeless love shining through his teary eyes. He was telling me, in the silent language of love, that he loves me, that he is proud of me, that we will always be together.

I love you too, Dad. Thank you for Polko-ahh-polko. I promise to pass the lesson on to my kids.