My early relationship with my father was often combative. From a tender age, it seemed to me that his purpose was to make my life difficult. His criticism and quips made me angry. “Your temper is going to get you in big trouble one day!” he’d say to me. I experienced my father as a self-righteous militaristic dictator of arbitrary rules. As a teen I fought him and accused him of being the cause of all my problems.  His stern warning about the birds and bees and countless other lessons added fuel to my anger toward him. He seemed unable to see me and accept me as I was. To his harshness I retorted, “Were you never a child, never a teenager? Did you never rebel or make mistakes?”

My relationship with my father taught me that men were my adversaries. I was motivated by a need to prove my value to others. Architecture was the perfect profession for me. Although I loved the creativity, working from the big picture of designing complex public buildings to the minute details of door knobs, my competitiveness began to disturb me. Architects are often called upon to pit our skills against each other. Sometimes it gets real nasty. Battles for our commissions can seem like gladiator competitions over talent, time and money. It can bring out the worst in people otherwise devoted to making a better world.

Then I began to question these competitions and the way they left me feeling degraded and demoralized, even after winning. Oh, Wow! It hit me. I was feeling about my profession like I did with my father.  I began to realize that all I ever wanted from my father was for him to see me, believe in me and support my dreams. They both had me feel separate from others and what I craved was connection.

When I learned that at the age of twelve my father had been blamed for his father’s death, I was shocked. I realized how emotionally wounded, how mentally tormented and burdened with guilt and shame he must have been. Did he blame himself for the deformity of my hands? Was that why he was so hard on me? My heart opened. I felt compassion for my father.

I always knew my father was a brilliant and learned man, a philosopher, an engineer and inventor and a self-taught speaker of several languages. But now I felt for him and his pain. I wondered about the contributions he might have made to the world had his inner demons been conquered.  I realized that in his own way he had applied his Naval Academy training to me. He was pushing me to find inner strength and confidence, to pick myself up when I was down.

Recently, I found a photograph of my father. It was taken at my graduation from Columbia University, the only event of mine he ever attended. He was absolutely beaming at me  with loving pride. When I saw that light in his eyes, I realized how deeply he loved me. Now I see and feel his contribution to my life. It was when I delivered his eulogy that I finally realized he had been the perfect father for me. Our Souls had chosen well. By presenting himself as my adversary, he was actually coaching me to be resilient and resourceful. It takes a very wise Soul with unconditional love to do what he did for me. He taught me the value of adversity. I can at last look back at my father with deep honor and humility. I love you, Dad!



  Albert C. Moore                                                                                    (Nicknamed, “Curley” by his fellow Midshipmen)                               United States Naval Academy                                                                                 Class of 1943

As I matured, our relationship turned very cordial, handshakes, man to man. We sometimes even greeted each other with genuine embraces. One of my favorite memories of my dad is of us watching a ballgame together, drinking beers and eating his favorite sandwich, peanut butter and onion.



I used to set intentions to achieve a goal, like I’m going to be an architect. I expected my goal to manifest exactly as I planned. I also expected it to manifest according to my timetable and match my desired end results – money and respect. Full steam ahead! If I encountered resistance, I powered through it. We all know how well that works.

I expected to have a life-long career as a successful architect because that’s what I intended to do. I received a fabulous education in architecture and urban design and apprenticed for ten years. In my thirties and forties, I built a successful practice conforming to my expectations.

Then, without warning, a life crisis brought me to my knees. My Soul had other plans for me. I protested vigorously. I tried willing my life to yield to my desires and expectations. It had always worked. All my attempts to resist the calling of my Soul’s Design proved futile. Exhausted from the struggle and pain, I had no choice but to surrender. In surrender my Soul spoke, “Your box of expectations allows no space for the Divine. Creator desires to co-create with you. And when you open to co-creation, you will really enjoy the outcome.” Yeah well, we’ll see! 

My Soul spoke again, “Your life will be easier and more fulfilling when you learn the distinction between expectation and expectancy.” It continued, “A pregnant woman experiences expectancy. She doesn’t know exactly what her child will look like, or be like. She loves her child. She is patient, mostly. She allows her child to come into being. Be pregnant in each moment!”

I’m not a woman! Am I supposed to behave like one?

“No, just learn from them! Calm down. Practice breathing like you learned in Lamaze classes when your wife was pregnant. Pace yourself, allow your intentions to unfold naturally.”

So, expectancy is a softer vibration? “Yes,” my Soul said.  “Expectancy is a feeling rather than a mental construct. When you set an intention, ask that it be aligned with your Soul’s Design. It knows what, how and when your intention is to manifest. Maintain calm, happy certainty about the forthcoming birth of your intention. Hold the vision of it as already complete. Love it with all your heart. Sustain an attitude that the end result is the best for all concerned. And practice detachment from a specific outcome.”

Thanks! I can do that. I felt the vibrational distinction of expectancy. It felt like all kinds of cool stuff was about to happen.

A surreal calm came over me. Gone was the frenetic chaos of the worried doer. I felt free from slavery to my forceful will. I don’t have to do anything but stay out of my own way, be my authentic self and allow the Divine to work Its magic. Expectancy is the state of calm absolute certainty that all is well and in order. 

Blessings to all!