My Oprah Chopra Runs

These last few months, I returned to an old love. Running.  In Boston, I discovered hiking and ventured to the Blue Hills every weekend, rain, wind, snow and definitely sunshine. But I when I took up hiking, I sort of broke up with running for some reason. I left it behind in the rear view mirror of my mind.

That all changed last summer when, long-story short, I had to pick up someone's car from Mercy Hospital. Instead of catching the bus or neighborhood trolley, I figured, why not run the 2.5 miles to the hospital from my dad's place? If I could hike as aggressively as I've done in recent years, I should be able to run some of this stretch along Brickell Avenue and South Bayshore Drive. I wasn't sure if I could do it but to my surprise, I ran the whole thing (although I arrived to the hospital drenched in sweat hugging my family.)  And that experience reignited a passion in something I used to love so much - running.

I first caught the running fever during my junior-to-senior year at Miami Beach High School from my close friends (and neighbors down the street), Christie and Calley Masson. They were beautiful dirty-blonde, pony-tailed twins who happened to be Florida's state crossing country and track champs.

Inspired by their speed and dedication to their sport, I began running a few laps around our neighborhood's Fisher Park. After telling Calley about this, I remember her saying, "You're doing about a mile, Johnny!"  I was surprised I was doing that much.

With their cheery you-can-do spirit,  I ventured out of the park and onto the streets of Miami Beach, pushing my one-mile run boundary to three, then five and at the most, seven. (I also ran with them during some of their practice runs.) But in my 20s, I wanted to muscle up like the rest of the guys in South Beach so I stopped running and focused on weight lifting and morning push-ups.

And now I'm running a few times a week like a teenager all over again or The Flash. In the past few months, I've gone from 2 miles to four. And I change the scenery, picking different neighborhoods throughout the week and making these runs into mini-journeys.

Sometimes after work, I run in downtown Fort Lauderdale. I marvel at the electric glow of the towering skyscrapers and the bobbing mega yachts docked by the New River bridge on SE Third Ave.

I also jaunt through Coral Gables' small business district of restaurants, salons and bridal boutiques. Along Ponce de Leon Boulevard,  I admire the clusters of small colorful Mediterreanean-styled apartment buildings and their sprouting ferns and manicured lawns. 

And I run under the cool shade of downtown Miami's Brickell Avenue, to Coconut Grove's South Bayshore Drive. But instead of Mercy Hospital, I hang a left and stop at the cone-shaped La Ermita de La Caridad church . I sit, cool off and watch church-goers pray and say thanks to the beloved Cuban saint. Those scenes always put a smile on my face and the fact that two cats there now like to hang out with me while I rest.

The running Zens me out. My thoughts drift. My stresses fall away in my dust. I find myself in this special spiritual zone where I feel...present, stillness. Just me and my moving shadow ahead or to my side. I don't feel my feet pounding the pavement or my lungs huffing and puffing. I f-l-o-w, like the tropical currents of Biscayne Bay. I'm fueled by my own energy, light and grace.

I used to run to Pitbull and the Pussycat Dolls on my iPod but ever since I attended the Oprah Life You Want Weekend tour in Miami last October, I have found another soundtrack to stride to.

With my smartphone in hand, I listen to the meditations of Deepak Chopra who is introduced by Oprah Winfrey in each stream. (I just keep my eyes open when he guides me to close my eyes). With each step, I repeat the mantra of that meditation (my favorite is ''Shanti Hum'' or ''I am peace'' which is how I feel when I glide like a colt with the wind.

I call these my Oprah Chopra Runs. And the more I run, the farther and farther I'm go, to the point that I've had to ask myself at times, where am I? I'm sure those Oprah Chopra meditations weren't intended for such high-intense cardio runs but I like the combination of opening my mind and spirit as I run along the wide open boulevards of Miami and Fort Lauderdale. I just have to remember to keep my eyes open. Namaste.

Deepak Chopra and Oprah in Miami in October.

What I Learned from Oprah's Life You Want Weekend

Oprah Winfrey came to Miami and brought her Life You Want Weekend, a touring event that serves as a giant inspirational retreat for folks looking to figure out what they want from their own lives, a journey of self-transformation. And she brought along some of her friends - Eat Pray Love author Elizabeth Gilbert, spiritual guru Deepak Chopra, OWN host Iyanla Vanzant and pastor Rob Bell to the AmericanAirlines Arena Oct. 24-25.

After writing a preview about the event for my paper, I was curious to experience it myself. What will Lady O say that we don't know already from her magazine, former talk show and OWN network? How many women (and some men) could pack the arena for something other than a Miami Heat game or an Enrique Iglesias concert?  A LOT, as it turns out.

Whether we strolled the downtown streets of Miami or rode the centipede-like Metro Mover to the event, we all recognized one another thanks to our rubbery white bracelets, which later glowed like bright fireflies during each speaker's session. On my way to the arena, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on some ladies as they talked about how they traveled from New York and Canada just to see Oprah. I nodded and smiled and they flashed a knowing grin when they spotted my bracelet. It confirmed that I was one of them, one of the gals that weekend, looking for a dose of spirituality and some personal growth.

So what did I get out of the weekend? Here are some things that I jotted down in my notepad (I quickly ran out of paper) from my O-weekend along with some photos I snapped with my smartphone.

Friday night, Oprah donning a sunny yellow gown, strutted back and forth on stage where she spoke for about 90 minutes about her journey from a young girl in Mississippi to Chicago where she launched her long-time syndicated daytime show.

With slide shows of her early days in broadcasting, her home, landscapes and nature, it felt like she was taking us on a personal life tour.

"We are all energy. All life is energy.  What will you do with the energy that is you?'' Oprah asked the audience.

"There is no life without the connection to the spiritual self,'' she continued.

She referenced Maya Angelou who told her, "Your legacy is every life you've ever touched."

Oprah also read from "Invictus", poem that she learned at age 8: "I am the master of my fate I am the captain of my soul.''

She said her show took off when she started using television as a service to help other people. She urged us to do that in our own lives. "Use what you have and begin to share that in service" and how we can all do that in our own jobs whether we're clerks, lawyers or teachers.  If we haven't found a job that we are passionate about, find an outlet or something that you enjoy, something that pays you in its own way.

What really caught my attention was when she explained that "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction...The energy you put out there, BAM!, it's all coming back.. Haters, BAM! Jealously, BAM! Envy, BAM! Love is the same thing."  She was BAM! this and BAM! that so much that you could feel it as if she was pointing at YOU!...BAM! My seat mates uh-huhed along with me.

from Harpo

"You cocreate your life with the energy of your intention...You are responsible for your intentions...Be responsible for the energy you bring into a room.''  (I also liked this one because how you enter a room or a situation, sets the stage, so to speak.)

"Everything that happened to you has happened for you, to lift you higher, to make you better."

"You begin the life you want by embracing the life you have."  Be grateful for the smaller things even the shower pressure or clean crisp bed sheets. One of the smaller things I'm grateful for daily is that my VW starts each morning to get me to work in Fort Lauderdale from Miami.

Eat, Pray, Elizabeth Gilbert!

sunsentinel.com 

"Be the hero of your own journey!"

"Go on a min-quest!"

"Ask yourself, what stirs you, what moves you, what interests you?... Point yourself in that direction, curiosity is going to lead you to your very own life."

Those are some of the nuggets from Eat Pray Love author Elizabeth Gilbert that she shared for a story I wrote about her upcoming appearance. She's one of Oprah Winfrey's featured trailblazers on Oprah's The Life You Want tour which rolls into Miami this weekend.

 I had a chance to chat with Elizabeth during a stop in Miami. As expected, she was gregarious and gracious and had always something positive to share as she did in her book which I read mostly on my gym's ellypitcal machine when lived in Boston. I also remember being the only proud (and giddy) dude at the AMC movie theater in Braintree during a Sunday matinee screening of the movie in Aug. 2010. Welcome to Miami, Elizabeth!

Walk this way - in Providence

Me standing in front of Water Place Park in downtown Providence this week.

One of my favorite things to do when I visit Providence is to walk this charming city. Each of the red-bricked buildings have stories to tell and I can't help but whip out my smartphone and snap some images during my city walks by Providence Place, Brown University, India Point Park and Blackstone Boulevard.  (Yes, I walk a lot!)

Here are some places that inspired me enough to feature them in scenes in my new novel Looking for Providence.

The view along the river in Water Place Park. 

There's a romantic date (a walk and gondola ride) set here at Water Place Park in my book between Ronnie Reyes, a goofy but sweet 25-year-old Business writer, and his love interest, Phil, a handsome toy executive from Providence. Perfect place for a first kiss (or two.)

Like me, (ahem!), Ronnie enjoys taking in the city during his walks but Ronnie does this while at work. This is a view of downtown from Providence Place Mall where Ronnie likes to grab lunch between his story assignments.

Ronnie writes about pretty much anything Business-related in Providence. During one assignment, he writes about the development of the Arcade as a mixed retail/residential complex on Weybosset Street. The first floor features shops, boutiques and cafes and the upper floors feature boat-inspired micro units (studios.) 

Ronnie also enjoys running along Blackstone Boulevard which has a paved trail in the center. The street is lined with majestic estates and bricked-faced condos.

Buddy's Buddy

I've always believed that writing is about sharing. And in that spirit, I wanted to give my loyal book readers a little gift - a free short story called Buddy's Buddy, which I wrote when I was 17 in my Creative Writing class at Miami Beach High School. My teacher, Mrs. Ricki Weyhe, liked it so much that she read it outloud in class.  Two years later in a college English class, we had a similar assignment of writing a short story and I revised this one.  My professor Michael Hettich enjoyed the story that he too shared it with the class. (His eyes misted as he reached the end of the story.) It's the kind of story you may want to read to a child before bed or in a park where squirrels run about. Happy holidays and New Year!   

Copyright © All rights reserved.

                                                

                Soft puffy white clouds drift north slowly against a bright blue sky. Tall pines shade the earth he stands on. Golden leaves rustle above the moist soil with the cool breezes of fall.  Sun rays penetrate through the branches above, leaving elusive highlights in miniscule strands of grass.

                One of those bright rays of sunlight falls upon a small area of his porcelain-like face, revealing an aura of innocence around him.  His honey-brown eyes and his matching straight hair blend beautifully with Mother Nature’s surroundings.  Buddy, dressed in denim jumpers and old worn out shoes that were once white, stands under one of the towering pines in the woods. Every afternoon, the six-year-old first grader enjoys walking in the forest near his house. This is his way of leaving the world which he feels he is not a part of.

                Today, Buddy is anxious for the clock to hit 2:00 o’clock. He has waited all day for it to move there. Most students wait for the ringing of the bell but Buddy is different. 

             As soon as he sees the clock turn to 2:00, Buddy runs straight to the forest by his house. He likes to sit under one of the shady pines where a path ends.  He enjoys talking to a squirrel that lives in a pine. Buddy stays there each day until sundown.  When the sun sets, the woods become too dark for Buddy to find his way out.

                The sun slowly fades away and the incoming evening breezes grow cool. Buddy gets up, stretches and begins his journey home.

                “I’ll come back tomorrow,’’ he says to himself. “Oh, I can’t wait so I could talk to Murphy the squirrel!”

                The next day, Buddy sits at his desk in school where he gazes at the clock. Finally, the clock hits 2:00 and Buddy sets off for the woods. He runs as fast as he can, passing each of the houses by the pastures.

                At last, Buddy arrives at the beginning of the path at the woods. He starts his walk into the woods and skips down the path. He sings in his mind any words a six-year-old would chant.

                “I am Buddy. Who are you? I am Buddy. How are you?”

                Buddy reaches his destination. At the end of the path stands a large pine that appears to be the size of the Empire State Building to any six-year-old. He stands before it, gazing with his angelic brown eyes .

                “Alright, I’m finally here. Murphy Squirrel, where are you, my little pal?” he says.

                Buddy scoots beside the tree and waits for his friend, Murphy Squirrel. Buddy calls and calls for him but no squirrel is in sight. His hands rest under his frowning face. Then, a small shadow appears.

            “Murphy!” Buddy yells with enthusiasm. Buddy’s smile returns and his sadness disappears. Murphy Squirrel faces him with a grin that reveals little ivory teeth.  Buddy sits with Murphy and enjoys his limited time with him. Buddy brings him a bag of peanuts and almonds. He remembers that Murphy enjoys the taste of the fresh peanuts his mom packs for him in his lunch bag.

                For several hours, they play in the woods. They chase each other and play hide and seek.  After running and enjoying Murphy’s company for some time, Buddy grows tired.  He looks at the sky and notices that it is pitch black.

                “Oh my Gosh! How do I get home? Oh my Gosh!”  says the little boy.

                The only way Buddy would be able to get home was if he had some light. It is too dark for him to see the path which leads near his house.  Murphy Squirrel is unable to help. He has never left his home in the woods.  And that makes Buddy feel really scared. Buddy then walks around with Murphy trying to find his way out but both are unsuccessful.  Buddy then sits on the dirt and cries. His pale white cheeks turn pink and his eyes fill with tears.

                Murphy cheers Buddy up but he still feels lost. As the night cools, Buddy worries more and more. He hears scary howling noises which confuse him. Buddy does not know where they are coming from. In fear, he looks up and sees large white eyes looking back at him.

                “Who are you?” Buddy asks shivering.

                “I am Ollie Owl. Who are you?” asks the owl covered in layers of brown feathers.

                “I am lost and I’m Buddy too.  Can you help me find my way home , Ollie Owl?”

Ollie quickly soars to the sky in hopes of seeing the path. He flies higher and higher and sees a two-story brown wooden house with thick gray smoke pouring out of the chimney. 
Ollie asks Buddy if his house has a chimney and if it is on the outskirts of the woods. Buddy’s eyes widen and his mouth becomes a black hole.

                “Oh Ollie, yeah, that’s my house. Take me home, please."

 

                 Ollie then grasps Buddy by his shoulders and soars him to heavenly heights.

                “Wow, Ollie. This is beautiful. Hey, there’s my house’’ Buddy says, pointing to the wooden house below.

                Ollie flaps his wings, drops in altitude and swoops down to the front door of Buddy’s house.

                “Thank you Ollie! You’re my new friend,’’ Buddy says, shaking Ollie’s right wing.

                Buddy turns the doorknob and walks in.  He suddenly wakes up in his bed with droplets of sweat all over his face and pillow.

                “Where am I? I want to go back,’’ he says to himself.

                His mom rushes in and hugs and caresses Buddy. In sign language, she asks him what is wrong.

He signs back, “I don’t want to go back to that special school anymore. I want to be with Murphy and Ollie. I could hear with them.”

                After his mom comforts him, Buddy lays himself back to sleep. He still does not want believe it was a dream.
                 “It was real. I could hear Murphy talking to me,’’ he says to himself.

                 But then he realizes that it was a dream since all he could hear were his thoughts and nothing else.

                The following morning, Buddy returns to Springfield’s Safe Haven School for Kids.  In his class, his teacher talks about squirrels and how friendly they look and can be toward humans.  Buddy raises his hand and smiles. He signs to his teacher, “I know. I know!”

               Buddy could always hear Murphy in his thoughts.

My mom "Mily"

Most people may best know me as a journalist and author. But to my mom, I was simply "Yonito" or 'mi baby'' as she liked to introduce me to people even as recently as three weeks ago.

My mother was my biggest fan and I was hers.  She gladly attended all my Miami book readings where she sat in the back with my father and smiled as I read English words that she probably didn't completely understand. But she knew that they came from my heart. She also happily posed for the camera whenever one suddenly pointed her way which happened a lot during her lifetime.

After a months-long battle this year with colon cancer, my mom, Milagros Diaz, passed away November 15. I still can't believe that she's gone. I keep expecting to see her after work at Mt. Sinai Medical Center or at our home in Miami Beach. I keep thinking she's going to call me to ask me to bring her Cuban coffee like I did every morning when she was at the nursing center at Mercy Hospital this summer. Or that she'll ask me to turn the channel to Mega TV so she could watch Charytin's daily entertainment show.

For those of you who weren't fortunate enough to meet my fun, wacky mom in person, you got to know her through some of my writing. She inspired each of the Cuban mom characters in my four novels. That was her as the overly protective and loving Mrs. Perez, mother of Tommy in Boston Boys Club who sang him Happy Birthday greetings on his home answering machine and who worried whether he was warm enough during Boston winters. My mom served as the muse for Ana Martinez, Ray's mom in Miami Manhunt who gave her son safe sex talks as she shaved some of his upper back hair in their Coral Gables bathroom. (Don't ask!)

My mom was also Maria Martin, Carlos's garden-loving, flan-making mom in Beantown Cubans who died of colon cancer but still visited him in his dreams to guide him in his new Boston home.  And Mami also resembled and acted a lot like Gladys Galan, Gabriel's mom in Take the Lead who kept his childhood bedroom spotless and pristine whenever he visited from Quincy, Massachusetts. She also gladly picked him up from the airport.

My mom played herself in a short story I wrote called "The Cuban Kitchen Dance'' from Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul. In that story, I described how she taught me how to dance in our Miami Beach kitchen even though I was a reluctant dance partner. And she occasionally appeared in this blog either in photographs or in fun entries such as the time she ambushed me and took me to visit una Santera/spiritual reader during one of my Miami trips from Boston. As you can see, my mom inspired and continues to inspire me.

Being my muse could have easily been a category on her resume. In her native Cuba, she did some modeling and competed as a beauty queen in the infamous Carnaval festival. She had a string of short-lived jobs from working in a tobacco company and a doctor's office to a school. In the US, she would be called a homemaker but that's too simple of a label. Mily, as she liked to be called, was a loving wife of 48 years, a proud mother of three, a fun aunt who enjoyed sharing the dirty jokes she heard on Spanish AM radio, a giddy little sister, chatty cousin and guiding godmother.

She was our sun, shining light, love and hope wherever she went. Even at Mt. Sinai these past few months, she charmed the nurses and nursing assistants, some of whom referred to her as "mi reina" (my queen) and "mi corazon" (my love.)

My mom appeared as a candidate for Carnaval in La Habana newspaper.

Perhaps that people-connection had to do with her profound sense of spirituality. One of her favorite things to do was to sit by the window in our pantry or in the living room and listen to Radio Paz, a nonprofit Catholic radio station. She also enjoyed sharing prayers with her call-in phone group. When I wasn't looking, she'd stuff prayer cards with various saints into my wallet and pieces of garlic in my pockets for protection. And whenever I drove away from our house to head to the airport and back to Boston, she'd stand on our sidewalk and gesture a prayer for a safe journey.

It's those little mom-and-son moments that rush back to me now, some of which I shared with her on that recent cloudy November Friday afternoon as I held her sun-freckled hand, looked into her hazel/green eyes and sat by her bedside just a few hours before she passed away, singing one of her favorite religious songs. I reminded her how she didn't want me to kiss her on the cheek whenever she dropped me off at Nautilus Junior High (because the boys will make fun of you!) 

With my mom at Biscayne Elementary's Head Start program.

I described how she called me her "personal chauffeur" who drove her to Publix, Amoco, FedCo, and K-mart after I got my restricted driver's license. I recalled how she waited for me to get home from work in Fort Lauderdale so we could walk down our street to the Pine Tree Drive bridge where we breathed in the fresh sea air and just talked. I recounted the times she called me at The Boston Globe whenever she was alone in the house so she could gossip. How she was so happy to finally visit Boston, see the condo I had called home in Lower Mills as well as her goddaughter/niece Mari's home in Duxbury.  And how could I ever forget the "Yonito, do you like papaya-or-banana-for-breakfast?" jokes.

It was as if we had our own secret code that allowed us to break out in giggles and full on belly-laughs with just one look or gesture. (God forbid if you like my sister or Dad were stuck with the both of us in an elevator, a waiting room or in a line.)

So much love, so many fond memories -  including her beaming whenever my sister Cary treated her to a day at the salon - that they could easily fill up several more books and blog entries. She's physically gone but I know that like the Maria mother character in Beantown Cubans, she'll be in my dreams walking with me on our street or doing the Cuban Kitchen Dance all over again.

In honor of my mom, I wanted to share some of the ways I remember her through photographs and at least one video that she inspired.

@ Books and Books for "Miami Manhunt". Always smiling

After "Boston Boys Club" reading @Books and Books

In 2011, my mom appeared in an infomercial for Miami Beach Medical Group (which still airs the spot). I was visiting from Boston and this is what I woke up to - a camera crew outside our front door and my mom opening and closing the door to do her scenes. She kept playfully shushing me when I began asking "Mami, what is going on?"  She was so happy that morning wearing the jumpsuit that my sister had bought her.










Below is a video that Open Road Media shot of me discussing how my mom and dad inspired me to write Beantown Cubans after they visited me in Boston. The video features pictures of my mom and dad over the years.


Open Road Media: Johnny Diaz on Special Themes from Open Road Media on Vimeo.