Long day at work...big, bad air traffic control ju-ju was all around. I walked out the side door into the sunlight with tired head, tired eyes, and tired soul. "What the hell am I doing still talking to bloody airplanes?" I thought to myself, knowing full well what the answer was and is. Dragging my carcass to the car, I departed for the quieter realm of my daughter's softball game, secure in the knowledge that I didn't have to "plug in" for another sixteen hours. Life, in all its infinite measurements can sometimes stand still, held at bay by a fresh breeze or the single off a young girl's bat. Stop, smell, reflect...Ah yes, it is a rose!
As you drive, the radio tells the tale of four more dead, their bodies charred and damaged by an anger and rage we can't comprehend, by a force mysterious yet all too familiar these days, mere meat for all to see. The ravaged still fighting to vanquish, the defeated rising again and again to defeat. The battle is lost, the war remains, constant reminders of nothing gained, nothing gained. What constitutes "victory", and will we have enough innocence left to recognize its arrival? What's to become of the sons and daughters? American or Iraqi, they're all the same, what's to become of them Condoleezza? Can you tell me George, or Dick, or Rummy??? Charred or otherwise, we're all just meat to you...
Tomorrow I'll go to work and plug in, it's what I do. Perhaps I'll stop from time to time and consider my good fortune and how it fits into the grand scheme. Perhaps I'll resort to mere survival, thwarting all attempts on my sanity with divine insanity, dark humor at the expense of all. Maybe I'll catch a whisper of something radiant, something unblemished and fine, a shiny babble of some long ago memory that calls me back to days of the not-so-long ago me. That freckled boy with holes in his soles, the one who wanted always to run with the wind. I think he survived and is lurking there just out of sight, afraid, but curious as to whom he becomes. I listen when he beckons, a deep longing for what I once accepted welling up from my center. "Run with me" he says, "Run like the wind, run until it hurts, run through all the pain and beyond". I want to, and maybe we can run to Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan, or even 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Maybe the sight of me and my young freckled friend, running with the wind in our hair and nostrils, faster and faster, maybe this sight would be enough, enough to stop the world.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
NEWS FLASH!!! So-Damn-Insane is not cooperating with his interrogators, and they are currently learning very little from him about the mess in Iraq!
I love this type of cutting-edge "journalism" and the knowledge it brings into my life. I was certain that once Mr. Hussein realized the grave error of his ways he would cooperate fully, and would in fact tell us how many innocents he put to death, and just where those WMD's are hidden. Perhaps he's just milking it for the companionship and camaraderie he's found within the FBI & CIA. I guess I just don't know who to trust or believe in anymore. Why can't all the evil doers out there just play nice?
Anyway, time for me to head out for work, secure in the knowledge that the U. S. Government and media have my back...Live Large, but pay attention as that's always your best defense!
I love this type of cutting-edge "journalism" and the knowledge it brings into my life. I was certain that once Mr. Hussein realized the grave error of his ways he would cooperate fully, and would in fact tell us how many innocents he put to death, and just where those WMD's are hidden. Perhaps he's just milking it for the companionship and camaraderie he's found within the FBI & CIA. I guess I just don't know who to trust or believe in anymore. Why can't all the evil doers out there just play nice?
Anyway, time for me to head out for work, secure in the knowledge that the U. S. Government and media have my back...Live Large, but pay attention as that's always your best defense!
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Good piece nephew 'C', you're definitely thinking outside of the box. It's very good indeed to see the next generation taking a thoughtful stance, gives me hope for the survival of humanity. Barry does, however, make an interesting point. I want to discuss those three words in question though, respect, understanding and compassion, and throw another log on the fire.
Respect and understanding seem to both be subjective, that is both actions are based solely on the perspective of the giver. If, for instance, someone is a great country western musician and I hate country, I may not be able to see beyond the genre and show respect for the artist's talent because I don't understand his efforts and ability as my perception is clouded by my own limited thinking regarding country western music. Respect does seem to be, as Barry says, "an earned gratuity" in the eyes of the giver.
Compassion is different in my mind as it doesn't require direct personal knowledge of others, but is instead offered to all, when done in its purest form, simply because we ARE all the same when you cut through the layers of life and experience we all coat ourselves with. Compassion is more a way of life, a connection to things great and small, good and bad, right and wrong, the "seeing" beyond the appearance of things. Compassion generates not from conscious thought, but from becoming truly immersed in being human and all that brings with it. If you reach that state, compassion flows through you and from you, your conscious mind perhaps unaware of compassion's presence. Does a mass murder deserve our RESPECT? Probably not. Will we UNDERSTAND the mass murder's motivations? Probably never. Does the mass murder deserve and need our COMPASSION? Yes, because he/she is one of us...
I went surfing the last two days, classic Southern California days of sun and the sublime. Yesterday I had dolphins within 10'-15' of me on several occasions, very cool. They sometimes surface and roll onto their side and stare at me with coal-black eyes filled with warmth and mirth, that comical grin permanently etched into smooth gray skin. I often wonder what they think of me, a semi-bloated creature stuffed into fake skin, doing my best to play in their realm, but never coming close to their abilities. Do they connect me and my kind to the demise of their world? Do they wish I'd leave? Or do they preach what they seem to practice; quiet tolerance for humans and our intrusions into their tranquility? How would we react if dolphins dumped their waste in our backyards, trapped some of us in nets until drown, and caught us for research, strapping devices to our backs to see where we go? Political leaders around the globe would probably declare an all out war on dolphins, and other sea life would become collateral damage. It is strange indeed that we humans seem to have placed ourselves at the center of all things, and seem to view all other life as being here for the good of humanity, to be dealt with based on how we humans are affected by their presence in "our" world.
Gary, your poem was moving. It spoke of detachment and a longing for tangible connections in the same breath, and made me want to embrace the next stranger I encounter. Good. I'm really digging this blog and what it's stirring up; resurrected friendships, insight and reflective moods that come upon me more often these days, a certain spring in my step that's been long absent. Thanks for the stuff you said about my Mom, Barry. There are moments where I wish so much that I could talk with her and glean what I could from her wisdom and aura, but loss and carrying on are the way of this life. Someday we'll all be gone...so let's have a ball while we're here, i.e., LIVE LARGE. Keep the juice flowing my friends and family. Share what you have and you'll be given much more in return. Later days...
p.s.-The Lakers appear to be on a roll, and I say subjectively that they're going to win it all!
"I fear nothing, I hope for nothing, I am free.
-Nikos Kazantzakis-
Respect and understanding seem to both be subjective, that is both actions are based solely on the perspective of the giver. If, for instance, someone is a great country western musician and I hate country, I may not be able to see beyond the genre and show respect for the artist's talent because I don't understand his efforts and ability as my perception is clouded by my own limited thinking regarding country western music. Respect does seem to be, as Barry says, "an earned gratuity" in the eyes of the giver.
Compassion is different in my mind as it doesn't require direct personal knowledge of others, but is instead offered to all, when done in its purest form, simply because we ARE all the same when you cut through the layers of life and experience we all coat ourselves with. Compassion is more a way of life, a connection to things great and small, good and bad, right and wrong, the "seeing" beyond the appearance of things. Compassion generates not from conscious thought, but from becoming truly immersed in being human and all that brings with it. If you reach that state, compassion flows through you and from you, your conscious mind perhaps unaware of compassion's presence. Does a mass murder deserve our RESPECT? Probably not. Will we UNDERSTAND the mass murder's motivations? Probably never. Does the mass murder deserve and need our COMPASSION? Yes, because he/she is one of us...
I went surfing the last two days, classic Southern California days of sun and the sublime. Yesterday I had dolphins within 10'-15' of me on several occasions, very cool. They sometimes surface and roll onto their side and stare at me with coal-black eyes filled with warmth and mirth, that comical grin permanently etched into smooth gray skin. I often wonder what they think of me, a semi-bloated creature stuffed into fake skin, doing my best to play in their realm, but never coming close to their abilities. Do they connect me and my kind to the demise of their world? Do they wish I'd leave? Or do they preach what they seem to practice; quiet tolerance for humans and our intrusions into their tranquility? How would we react if dolphins dumped their waste in our backyards, trapped some of us in nets until drown, and caught us for research, strapping devices to our backs to see where we go? Political leaders around the globe would probably declare an all out war on dolphins, and other sea life would become collateral damage. It is strange indeed that we humans seem to have placed ourselves at the center of all things, and seem to view all other life as being here for the good of humanity, to be dealt with based on how we humans are affected by their presence in "our" world.
Gary, your poem was moving. It spoke of detachment and a longing for tangible connections in the same breath, and made me want to embrace the next stranger I encounter. Good. I'm really digging this blog and what it's stirring up; resurrected friendships, insight and reflective moods that come upon me more often these days, a certain spring in my step that's been long absent. Thanks for the stuff you said about my Mom, Barry. There are moments where I wish so much that I could talk with her and glean what I could from her wisdom and aura, but loss and carrying on are the way of this life. Someday we'll all be gone...so let's have a ball while we're here, i.e., LIVE LARGE. Keep the juice flowing my friends and family. Share what you have and you'll be given much more in return. Later days...
p.s.-The Lakers appear to be on a roll, and I say subjectively that they're going to win it all!
"I fear nothing, I hope for nothing, I am free.
-Nikos Kazantzakis-
Friday, March 26, 2004
Stepping those feet down a busy, city sidewalk
Looking both ways
Seizing any gaze while endeavoring not to balk
at the faces of the empty and the occupied
before you cross
Was that a look of joy or a tear just cried
Careful to choose your expression
otherwise you might get hit
Its shadow bears the fruit of an honest inflection
Clouds form and fracture unnoticed overhead
and that would change everything
A minute without verdict
becomes a lifetime without finding instead
The concrete isn’t the only thing faulted
How can we help from being who we are
Looking both ways
Seizing any gaze while endeavoring not to balk
at the faces of the empty and the occupied
before you cross
Was that a look of joy or a tear just cried
Careful to choose your expression
otherwise you might get hit
Its shadow bears the fruit of an honest inflection
Clouds form and fracture unnoticed overhead
and that would change everything
A minute without verdict
becomes a lifetime without finding instead
The concrete isn’t the only thing faulted
How can we help from being who we are
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
About 10-12 years ago my mother read the entire Koran, an English translation of course. After she was done she informed us that we should all be very concerned about the Arab world and Islamic fundamentalists. We all said "Okay Mom", and then went on about our business. The current world climate implies that perhaps my dear old mom was on to something, but the cause and effect may be much different from what she envisioned.
I don't profess to know much about Islam or the Arab culture, but I am certain that being human, they have hopes, dreams, goals and aspirations like any dyed-in-the-wool, red-blooded, patriotic American does. The problem is that the vast majority of Arabs are materially poor, have few rights and personal freedoms as we know them, and they are raised in a society that values above all else loyalty and blind allegiance to their religious leaders and whatever rhetoric they spew forth. The western world is viewed as decadent, and the heart and soul of western civilization is the USA. From a fundamentalist Islamic perspective it must be downright painful to share the planet with us Westerners. And when the people you abhor seem to have everything while your people are trying to survive any number of hardships that most Americans can't even imagine, well, it's very easy to see how we have reached the current state of affairs on Mother Earth. They want what we have, power & control (albeit in their own vision) and would wipe us clean from the face of the planet if they could. There are many among us who would do the same if it weren't for civilized conventions that dictate otherwise. On top of the naturally occurring clash of cultures, we have been meddling in Arab affairs for years to facilitate our way of life, i.e., the free and unhindered flow of black gold, Texas tea. Imagine if Iran or Saudi Arabia was doing the same to us! The question "Who's right and who's wrong" doesn't even apply here. Regardless of which side of the fence you reside on, you're being fueled by the same motivations once you scrape off the cultural superficiality. We are all humans, and it's luck of the draw where one is born, and therefore what we become. My nephew and niece, Korean by birth, but raised in the heart of Iowa culture and Iowan to the bone, are living proof that we are a product of our environment. We are all who we are because of our life experience and our role modeling. Very few of us ever break out of the box into which we're born, and perhaps if we do, we don't readily admit to seeing the other guy's viewpoint for fear of retribution from our cultural brothers and sisters. Ultimately we do have to defend ourselves at some level as the cultural voids that separate the people of this planet will always be there to some degree. However, the term "Defending the American way of life" causes me some discomfort, because at some level not so far below the surface our way of life, and the measures taken to keep it chugging along, keep the pot boiling to the point of overflowing. We forget that we live in a glass house with the rest of humanity watching our every move. Consider that as you go about your daily routine, and then think about what our foreign policy must say to all the other humans in far away lands who are directly impacted by it every waking moment. No wonder we are hated so much, and it's hard for me to say anymore that "they" have it coming, or that spreading democracy is the way to save the world. Ultimately, it is important to remember that propaganda is everywhere, whether it's some desolate Third-world nation, or our own backyard.
Maybe Bill Maher is on to something, get all the young Arab males laid on a regular basis. And while we're at it we may as well get and keep them stoned, and teach them to play a musical instrument because musicians never start wars. Maybe we should teach them about art & literature, and get them on a well balanced diet, a 40 hour work week and 2 weeks paid vacation each year. Maybe if they had pets who got regular visits to the vet they'd learn how to care for each other and us also. If only they were Americans...
"What the catepillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls a butterfly".
-Richard Bach-
I don't profess to know much about Islam or the Arab culture, but I am certain that being human, they have hopes, dreams, goals and aspirations like any dyed-in-the-wool, red-blooded, patriotic American does. The problem is that the vast majority of Arabs are materially poor, have few rights and personal freedoms as we know them, and they are raised in a society that values above all else loyalty and blind allegiance to their religious leaders and whatever rhetoric they spew forth. The western world is viewed as decadent, and the heart and soul of western civilization is the USA. From a fundamentalist Islamic perspective it must be downright painful to share the planet with us Westerners. And when the people you abhor seem to have everything while your people are trying to survive any number of hardships that most Americans can't even imagine, well, it's very easy to see how we have reached the current state of affairs on Mother Earth. They want what we have, power & control (albeit in their own vision) and would wipe us clean from the face of the planet if they could. There are many among us who would do the same if it weren't for civilized conventions that dictate otherwise. On top of the naturally occurring clash of cultures, we have been meddling in Arab affairs for years to facilitate our way of life, i.e., the free and unhindered flow of black gold, Texas tea. Imagine if Iran or Saudi Arabia was doing the same to us! The question "Who's right and who's wrong" doesn't even apply here. Regardless of which side of the fence you reside on, you're being fueled by the same motivations once you scrape off the cultural superficiality. We are all humans, and it's luck of the draw where one is born, and therefore what we become. My nephew and niece, Korean by birth, but raised in the heart of Iowa culture and Iowan to the bone, are living proof that we are a product of our environment. We are all who we are because of our life experience and our role modeling. Very few of us ever break out of the box into which we're born, and perhaps if we do, we don't readily admit to seeing the other guy's viewpoint for fear of retribution from our cultural brothers and sisters. Ultimately we do have to defend ourselves at some level as the cultural voids that separate the people of this planet will always be there to some degree. However, the term "Defending the American way of life" causes me some discomfort, because at some level not so far below the surface our way of life, and the measures taken to keep it chugging along, keep the pot boiling to the point of overflowing. We forget that we live in a glass house with the rest of humanity watching our every move. Consider that as you go about your daily routine, and then think about what our foreign policy must say to all the other humans in far away lands who are directly impacted by it every waking moment. No wonder we are hated so much, and it's hard for me to say anymore that "they" have it coming, or that spreading democracy is the way to save the world. Ultimately, it is important to remember that propaganda is everywhere, whether it's some desolate Third-world nation, or our own backyard.
Maybe Bill Maher is on to something, get all the young Arab males laid on a regular basis. And while we're at it we may as well get and keep them stoned, and teach them to play a musical instrument because musicians never start wars. Maybe we should teach them about art & literature, and get them on a well balanced diet, a 40 hour work week and 2 weeks paid vacation each year. Maybe if they had pets who got regular visits to the vet they'd learn how to care for each other and us also. If only they were Americans...
"What the catepillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls a butterfly".
-Richard Bach-
The following is in response to the CAIR article posted on Beckie's Blog. Although Word checked it at fewer than 1000 characters, the comment section disallowed such a large number--perhaps there are other forces at work there...
And finally, New Rule: If we really want to stop terrorism, we have to get Muslim men laid. Five British Muslims who were recently sent home from our prison at Guantanamo, charge that their American captors brought in prostitutes to taunt them, because most had never even seen a naked woman before.
And it made me wonder how many members of Al Qaeda have even dated a girl? We should hire women to infiltrate Al Qaeda cells and fuck them. Things would change quickly because young Muslim men don't really hate America. They're jealous of America. We have rap videos and the Hilton sisters and magazines with titles like Barely Legal. You know what's "barely legal" in Afghanistan? Everything!
Young men need sex, and if they don't get it for month and after month after month, they wind up cursing the day they ever decided to go to Cornell. Personal.
Have you ever wondered why the word from the Arab street is always so angry? It's because it's a bunch of guys standing in the street! Which is what guys do when they don't have girlfriends, when they're not allowed to even talk to a girl. Of course they want to commit suicide! Unlike this country where it's the married guys who want to kill themselves.
But here we always have hope. You can at least talk to a girl. And one might be crazy enough to go for you. Or you could get rich and buy one, like people do in Beverly Hills. But the connection between no sex and anger is real. It's why prizefighters stay celibate when they're in training, so that on fight night, they're pissed off and ready to kill.
It's why football players don't have sex after Wednesday. And conversely, it's why Bill Clinton never started a war.
And so, to paraphrase the sign in Mr. Clinton's old war room, "It's the pussy, stupid."
We need the Coalition of the Willing to be really willing! We need to mobilize two divisions of skanks - a regiment of ho's, and a brigade of girls who just can't say no. All under the command of Col. Ann Coulter. Who will be dressed in her "Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS" uniform.
Forget the Peace Corps. We need a "Piece of Ass Corps"! Girls, there's a cure to terrorism, and you're sitting on it!
-Bill Maher 3/19/04
And finally, New Rule: If we really want to stop terrorism, we have to get Muslim men laid. Five British Muslims who were recently sent home from our prison at Guantanamo, charge that their American captors brought in prostitutes to taunt them, because most had never even seen a naked woman before.
And it made me wonder how many members of Al Qaeda have even dated a girl? We should hire women to infiltrate Al Qaeda cells and fuck them. Things would change quickly because young Muslim men don't really hate America. They're jealous of America. We have rap videos and the Hilton sisters and magazines with titles like Barely Legal. You know what's "barely legal" in Afghanistan? Everything!
Young men need sex, and if they don't get it for month and after month after month, they wind up cursing the day they ever decided to go to Cornell. Personal.
Have you ever wondered why the word from the Arab street is always so angry? It's because it's a bunch of guys standing in the street! Which is what guys do when they don't have girlfriends, when they're not allowed to even talk to a girl. Of course they want to commit suicide! Unlike this country where it's the married guys who want to kill themselves.
But here we always have hope. You can at least talk to a girl. And one might be crazy enough to go for you. Or you could get rich and buy one, like people do in Beverly Hills. But the connection between no sex and anger is real. It's why prizefighters stay celibate when they're in training, so that on fight night, they're pissed off and ready to kill.
It's why football players don't have sex after Wednesday. And conversely, it's why Bill Clinton never started a war.
And so, to paraphrase the sign in Mr. Clinton's old war room, "It's the pussy, stupid."
We need the Coalition of the Willing to be really willing! We need to mobilize two divisions of skanks - a regiment of ho's, and a brigade of girls who just can't say no. All under the command of Col. Ann Coulter. Who will be dressed in her "Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS" uniform.
Forget the Peace Corps. We need a "Piece of Ass Corps"! Girls, there's a cure to terrorism, and you're sitting on it!
-Bill Maher 3/19/04
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Synergy...That's a most compelling word, one that I want this site to embody. I want the ideas of collaboration I have about this site to grow in whatever direction they choose. I'm not concerned with direction really, but I am more than a little curious as to where it will lead me, and hopefully you out there in cyberland that visit and contribute your own inspirations. I've got a really good feeling about things as of late...
The past few months have been relatively wild for me in regards to movement in my life and perspective, and I've been peddling as fast as possible to keep up, all the while trying to keep my mind open to possibility. It is AMAZING what and who shows up in one's life once you take a pro-active approach to growth on any level, especially when you make the effort with as little bias as possible. My dinner companions last night included my wife, a friend's father-in-law and my friend's two children. I scorched the hotdogs and semi-nailed the salmon, but it was in the end a good and just meal. What was remarkable, at least for me, was the conversation that entwined with the sharing of food & wine. The father-in-law, whose identity will remain secret so that the huddled masses don't beat a path to his door and rob him of his peace and tranquility, has a most amazing perspective of the way of things. I mostly sat and listened, but my mind just rips open whenever I'm around this guy. I've been living a life of boundary and limits for a good portion of my existence, but I'm realizing that 'limit' only exists when we create it, and isn't an actual function of natural law. Father-in-law is for me a muse of the highest order, and if you are reading this at some point, I don't mean to embarrass or scare you off. I'm simply acutely aware that you have shown up at a time in my life when I'm ripening quickly in my own curiosity and thoughts, and it's no accident. Thanks for sharing your world with me.
Okay, enough of that. What's on your minds out there me mi amigos and amigas? What's fueling your thoughts right now as you sit and read this? Are you happy, sad, melancholy, apathetic, enraged at some injustice, bored, fragmented, unaware, blissful...I hope you'll all choose to write at some point and express yourselves via this site. It's safe haven for all who show up, regardless of "where" along life's road you currently reside. We may have different addresses, but we all reside along the same road...Be kind, live large, smile...Newton
"Along the path of your search you may find a hill and kindle a bonfire that lights the great sky--though it's true, of course, that to make it burn you have to throw yourself in." -Galway Kinnel-
The past few months have been relatively wild for me in regards to movement in my life and perspective, and I've been peddling as fast as possible to keep up, all the while trying to keep my mind open to possibility. It is AMAZING what and who shows up in one's life once you take a pro-active approach to growth on any level, especially when you make the effort with as little bias as possible. My dinner companions last night included my wife, a friend's father-in-law and my friend's two children. I scorched the hotdogs and semi-nailed the salmon, but it was in the end a good and just meal. What was remarkable, at least for me, was the conversation that entwined with the sharing of food & wine. The father-in-law, whose identity will remain secret so that the huddled masses don't beat a path to his door and rob him of his peace and tranquility, has a most amazing perspective of the way of things. I mostly sat and listened, but my mind just rips open whenever I'm around this guy. I've been living a life of boundary and limits for a good portion of my existence, but I'm realizing that 'limit' only exists when we create it, and isn't an actual function of natural law. Father-in-law is for me a muse of the highest order, and if you are reading this at some point, I don't mean to embarrass or scare you off. I'm simply acutely aware that you have shown up at a time in my life when I'm ripening quickly in my own curiosity and thoughts, and it's no accident. Thanks for sharing your world with me.
Okay, enough of that. What's on your minds out there me mi amigos and amigas? What's fueling your thoughts right now as you sit and read this? Are you happy, sad, melancholy, apathetic, enraged at some injustice, bored, fragmented, unaware, blissful...I hope you'll all choose to write at some point and express yourselves via this site. It's safe haven for all who show up, regardless of "where" along life's road you currently reside. We may have different addresses, but we all reside along the same road...Be kind, live large, smile...Newton
"Along the path of your search you may find a hill and kindle a bonfire that lights the great sky--though it's true, of course, that to make it burn you have to throw yourself in." -Galway Kinnel-
Saturday, March 20, 2004
I hope this works. This computer stuff is kicking my ___. I had to create an entirely new blog, so I'll be adding some links within the next few days...be patient with me Monitor Dearest.
I've spent the first ninety minutes of my morning immersed in "deeper" blog territory, the realm of links and such. I follow the instructions precisely, trying my best to become a hard-core "blogger", but at present the secret handshake still eludes me. I've been trying to add Navylady's link to my page, but so far it hasn't shown up. Strangely, if I go to the URL area and type in my blog address directly the link shows up, however, if I go to blogger and log in, it doesn't. Any thoughts, comments or condemnations???
My new motto: "Jump, and the net appears". The universe provides when asked, but it also limits when asked. I think we can all look back at many of our own experiences and see the truth of this. I know I'm at my very best when I stop resisting and let the current of life carry me where it may, keeping my eyes, mind, and heart open along the way. Syncronicity is everywhere, kinda like that car commercial where the car is racing along through rugged terrain, a previously unconstructed road manifesting just before the car's wheels. Following one's intuitions is probably the most empowering thing an individual can do, but for most of us, it's also one of the most difficult endeavors. That said...try it, you'll like it!
A short story: There was a lake, somewhere high in the mountains, a deep crystal-blue lake that gripped the imagination of all who stumbled upon it. A school of fish called this lake their home, knowing nothing else but the bliss of clear, cold waters, and spent their days darting to and fro in perfect unison as each individual moved in synchronized fashion, the masses moving as a single organism, sunlight flashing silver from their sides. Harmony prevailed.
Suddenly, a clamor arose from near the center of the school, something hugely amiss making its presence known. A single fish, one just like all the others, was thrashing wildly about, slamming violently into its neighbors and causing the bliss and harmony of the near-past to evaporate like morning fog greeting a new day's sun. The other fish were shocked to the point of paralysis, their collective jaws dropping as one at the audacity of this individual. "How dare he" thought one, "What the...." thought another, "This S.O.B. has to pay".
Each fish, with their emotions calling them to action, began to close in on the fish causing the problem, their mentality one of retribution and justice. In their world, no individual had the right to mess with the overall well being and sanctity of the other fishes existence. And so, armed with righteous indignation, the fish commenced pushing and pulling at the offender to get him back in line, nipping at his fins, bruising and bloodying his small body. The highest order of all things was harmony, and that simply must be maintained at all costs.
The small fish at the center of all this looked wildly out at his brethren as his own life flashed before him, wondering why in his hour of need they had turned on him. Sadly, what the other fish didn't realize as it is often invisilble underwater, was that he was hooked on a fisherman's line and fighting for his very life!
None of us knows what "line" someone else may be hooked on. Try replacing your judgments of others with compassion and see what starts showing up in your life. You might be pleasantly surprised...Adios, live large, always!
I've spent the first ninety minutes of my morning immersed in "deeper" blog territory, the realm of links and such. I follow the instructions precisely, trying my best to become a hard-core "blogger", but at present the secret handshake still eludes me. I've been trying to add Navylady's link to my page, but so far it hasn't shown up. Strangely, if I go to the URL area and type in my blog address directly the link shows up, however, if I go to blogger and log in, it doesn't. Any thoughts, comments or condemnations???
My new motto: "Jump, and the net appears". The universe provides when asked, but it also limits when asked. I think we can all look back at many of our own experiences and see the truth of this. I know I'm at my very best when I stop resisting and let the current of life carry me where it may, keeping my eyes, mind, and heart open along the way. Syncronicity is everywhere, kinda like that car commercial where the car is racing along through rugged terrain, a previously unconstructed road manifesting just before the car's wheels. Following one's intuitions is probably the most empowering thing an individual can do, but for most of us, it's also one of the most difficult endeavors. That said...try it, you'll like it!
A short story: There was a lake, somewhere high in the mountains, a deep crystal-blue lake that gripped the imagination of all who stumbled upon it. A school of fish called this lake their home, knowing nothing else but the bliss of clear, cold waters, and spent their days darting to and fro in perfect unison as each individual moved in synchronized fashion, the masses moving as a single organism, sunlight flashing silver from their sides. Harmony prevailed.
Suddenly, a clamor arose from near the center of the school, something hugely amiss making its presence known. A single fish, one just like all the others, was thrashing wildly about, slamming violently into its neighbors and causing the bliss and harmony of the near-past to evaporate like morning fog greeting a new day's sun. The other fish were shocked to the point of paralysis, their collective jaws dropping as one at the audacity of this individual. "How dare he" thought one, "What the...." thought another, "This S.O.B. has to pay".
Each fish, with their emotions calling them to action, began to close in on the fish causing the problem, their mentality one of retribution and justice. In their world, no individual had the right to mess with the overall well being and sanctity of the other fishes existence. And so, armed with righteous indignation, the fish commenced pushing and pulling at the offender to get him back in line, nipping at his fins, bruising and bloodying his small body. The highest order of all things was harmony, and that simply must be maintained at all costs.
The small fish at the center of all this looked wildly out at his brethren as his own life flashed before him, wondering why in his hour of need they had turned on him. Sadly, what the other fish didn't realize as it is often invisilble underwater, was that he was hooked on a fisherman's line and fighting for his very life!
None of us knows what "line" someone else may be hooked on. Try replacing your judgments of others with compassion and see what starts showing up in your life. You might be pleasantly surprised...Adios, live large, always!
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