• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada

When the Spiritual Revolution arrives, who will we turn to for

• solace and comfort,
• nurturing and kindness,
• wisdom and support?

Can you look in the mirror and say to yourself without shame, without feeling weird or strange, I love you, _________?

When you honor yourself, your life's actions reflect your personal love for yourself.

When you honor yourself, you encourage yourself to

• find contentment in pain,
• accept the ever changing landscape of your heart,
• wage battles against the downward tendencies of your mind, and
• recognize we are all one, and worthy of respect and honor as beautiful children of a Loving Creator.

When you honor yourself, you create your life as a work of art, a masterpiece that reflects your values and aspirations.

When you honor yourself, you make your life precious by serving others, yet you continue to follow the drum beat of your own heart.

Few of us baby boomers ever received the encouragement to go for our dreams, to shoot for the moon, to be all we could be.

Rare was the child who was honored for who she was, and given the encouragement to honor herself by following her dreams.

No one is to blame. Our parents did the best they could with the love they had. Our parents were short-changed.

The love they had within them had been passed on from their parents, their upbringing and the adults in their lives. The intergenerational emotional traumas needing clearing were passed along unhealed, unconciously.

Their parents had survived the great Depression, a miserable time for the masses. Most emotional healing never occurred. They were struggling for their existence.

They had no one to bail them out when they

• ran out of money,
• when electricity was turned off in their homes,
• when the holes in their kids’ shoes wore through to the cement.

How the '60s Changed the World Forever and Began the Movement to Honor Yourself Along the Way

But baby boomers had the ‘60s as inspiration to be all we could be. Even boomers like myself: I missed a lot of the ‘60s because I blindly chose to join the Army for four years.

In 1966 I unconsciously joined up, wore the uniform, defended our country, and discovered a whole other world exists. Even someone like me could experience the ‘60s vicariously.

I reaped the rewards later in life because of the many pioneers and brave souls who stood up to our government and put an end to the Viet Nam War.

A war that was never officially recognized as a war and which scarred hundreds of thousands of young men for life.

I wasn’t honoring myself when I chose to join the Army. I had a note from the allergist my mother worked for, stating in big, bold, impressive words, that my allergies made me unfit to serve in the military.

The sergeant at the draft board chuckled to himself as he threw the note into the trash, and shouted, "Throw him in with the draftees."

Intuitively even my confused and scrambled brain knew being a draftee was a horrible idea, so instead I enlisted in the Army Security Agency for four years.

I went to language school after I scored high on the test, and was gifted with the opportunity to learn Vietnamese for thirty seven weeks in Monterey, CA.

Grasp the significance of my choosing to join the Army unconsciously. Even though I asked my parents’ friends, (I was twenty-two years old at the time), none of them

• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada.

When you honor yourself, you make your life precious by serving others, yet you continue to follow the drum beat of your own heart.

Few of us baby boomers ever received the encouragement to go for our dreams, to shoot for the moon, to be all we could be.

Rare was the child who was honored for who she was, and given the encouragement to honor herself by following her dreams.

No one is to blame. Our parents did the best they could with the love they had. Our parents were short-changed.

The love they had within them had been passed on from their parents, their upbringing and the adults in their lives. The intergenerational emotional traumas needing clearing were passed along unhealed, unconciously.

Their parents had survived the great Depression, a miserable time for the masses. Most emotional healing never occurred. They were struggling for their existence.

They had no one to bail them out when they

• ran out of money,
• when electricity was turned off in their homes,
• when the holes in their kids’ shoes wore through to the cement.

How the '60s Changed the World Forever and Began the Movement to Honor Yourself Along the Way

But baby boomers had the ‘60s as inspiration to be all we could be. Even boomers like myself: I missed a lot of the ‘60s because I blindly chose to join the Army for four years.

In 1966 I unconsciously joined up, wore the uniform, defended our country, and discovered a whole other world exists. Even someone like me could experience the ‘60s vicariously.

I reaped the rewards later in life because of the many pioneers and brave souls who stood up to our government and put an end to the Viet Nam War.

A war that was never officially recognized as a war and which scarred hundreds of thousands of young men for life.

I wasn’t honoring myself when I chose to join the Army. I had a note from the allergist my mother worked for, stating in big, bold, impressive words, that my allergies made me unfit to serve in the military.

The sergeant at the draft board chuckled to himself as he threw the note into the trash, and shouted, "Throw him in with the draftees."

Intuitively even my confused and scrambled brain knew being a draftee was a horrible idea, so instead I enlisted in the Army Security Agency for four years.

I went to language school after I scored high on the test, and was gifted with the opportunity to learn Vietnamese for thirty seven weeks in Monterey, CA.

Grasp the significance of my choosing to join the Army unconsciously. Even though I asked my parents’ friends, (I was twenty-two years old at the time), none of them

• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada

They had no one to bail them out when they

• ran out of money,
• when electricity was turned off in their homes,
• when the holes in their kids’ shoes wore through to the cement.

How the '60s Changed the World Forever and Began the Movement to Honor Yourself Along the Way

But baby boomers had the ‘60s as inspiration to be all we could be. Even boomers like myself: I missed a lot of the ‘60s because I blindly chose to join the Army for four years.

In 1966 I unconsciously joined up, wore the uniform, defended our country, and discovered a whole other world exists. Even someone like me could experience the ‘60s vicariously.

I reaped the rewards later in life because of the many pioneers and brave souls who stood up to our government and put an end to the Viet Nam War.

A war that was never officially recognized as a war and which scarred hundreds of thousands of young men for life.

I wasn’t honoring myself when I chose to join the Army. I had a note from the allergist my mother worked for, stating in big, bold, impressive words, that my allergies made me unfit to serve in the military.

The sergeant at the draft board chuckled to himself as he threw the note into the trash, and shouted, "Throw him in with the draftees."

Intuitively even my confused and scrambled brain knew being a draftee was a horrible idea, so instead I enlisted in the Army Security Agency for four years.

I went to language school after I scored high on the test, and was gifted with the opportunity to learn Vietnamese for thirty seven weeks in Monterey, CA.

Grasp the significance of my choosing to join the Army unconsciously. Even though I asked my parents’ friends, (I was twenty-two years old at the time), none of them

• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada

A war that was never officially recognized as a war and which scarred hundreds of thousands of young men for life.

I wasn’t honoring myself when I chose to join the Army. I had a note from the allergist my mother worked for, stating in big, bold, impressive words, that my allergies made me unfit to serve in the military.

The sergeant at the draft board chuckled to himself as he threw the note into the trash, and shouted, "Throw him in with the draftees."

Intuitively even my confused and scrambled brain knew being a draftee was a horrible idea, so instead I enlisted in the Army Security Agency for four years.

I went to language school after I scored high on the test, and was gifted with the opportunity to learn Vietnamese for thirty seven weeks in Monterey, CA.

Grasp the significance of my choosing to join the Army unconsciously. Even though I asked my parents’ friends, (I was twenty-two years old at the time), none of them

• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada

• gave me any worthwhile advice, or
• questioned me as to my motives, or
• asked me what I hoped to get out of my experience in the military.

They simply said it couldn’t hurt to serve one’s country.

Of course it couldn'y hurt to serve one's country, any fool knows that. However, we weren't really serving our country, we were only serving the self- interests of a handful.

And I was so messed up from drinking beer and stuffing my feelings, I could see nothing clearly.

I remember saying, “Well, what’s the difference between a three year commitment and a four year one, just one more year?”

In other words, I had no real idea of what I was doing, no sense of who I was, no plan of action, no dream, no motivation, no nothing. Nada. (I was desperate for self-esteem improvement yet had no idea how to get it.

I just had to do something with the Army to avoid being drafted and I had no idea I could have escaped to Canada.

I wasn't honoring myself, I was blindly following the masses and my self-image was non-existant.

I have forgiven myself for this case of non-honoring myself, which ultimately has taught me a major lesson: look before you leap.

Reflect upon your own life: have there been times when you failed to honor yourself and it cost you dearly?

Have you forgiven yourself for these times of not honoring who you are?

If you haven't forgiven yourself, what are you waiting for?

In Part 2, Honoring Who You Are Insures a Successful Death, you discover how to honor yourself now to insure you die content with the life you've lived. (Just in case death arrives tomorrow).