The hot air balloons are floating over the valley this morning, just a stones throw from my house. Like multi-colored dandelions a child might find in the front yard, helium balloons, or soap bubbles at a birthday party. Bigger though, and kept afloat by fire. They hang in the air effortlessly, at least to the eye of a casual observer, the effort really being out of sight, the burner working overtime to make the magic appear, well, magical. It seems that in life there is always something going on behind the scene that makes everything happen. Nothing really happens by itself, except of course, in nature. Nature happens. It happens with us or without us. It happens whether we want it to or not. It just happens.
Nothing of the un-natural world just happens, except deterioration. Anything, if left alone, will degrade, and deteriorate. It will not prosper, it will not multiply, it will not eventually manifest itself as more perfect than at the time of its creation. That is unless it has been constructed out of something taken from the natural world. A piece of furniture, for example, a hand crafted guitar. They will begin a process of deterioration, but they will eventually become richer, more well-regarded, and more valuable with time if cared for properly. The ageing of natural elements, people included, enables their depth, and the nature of their character to more fully emerge. People deteriorate physically, and mentally, but the true spirit of an individual, the essence of somebody, becomes more manifest with the passage of time.
That piece of furniture, or that hand-crafted guitar, if constructed with shoddy workmanship, or sub-standard material, will eventually become just another pile of wood. And it will end up being as worthless as the lack of care and attention invested in it.
As people, we are hand crafted, with natural (and supernatural) elements. We are created to be of value, and to reflect that value. As with nature, we just happen, but we happen with forethought, and with purpose. We must regard ourselves thoughtfully, purposefully, and take care to embrace, and protect, the essence of who we each are intended to be.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Little Ones
The little ones, they remain with us. The not yet fully formed who have had an incomplete entry into this formidable world. They do not cease to exist as one who may not be paying attention might imagine. They exist along with the rest of those of us who made it safely. Whether they be under-developed, injured in their formative stages, forcibly taken from the comfort of the womb, or inadvertently neglected by their spiritual caretakers, they join hands with the soulful, to lend purity and balance to an enigmatic world. These saints of God have eternal substance, and they have purpose. They have a place in our lives, and they have a position at our table. They will always be with us, no matter what. They will not be forgotten by the men and women who see beyond the temporal, the physical, and the immediate. They will never be forgotten. These little ones have names, names they may have not, as of yet, been given. But they remain among us, unsullied by the concerns of pain, discomfort, anxiety, fear and discouragement that the rest of us continue to wrestle with throughout our lives. They are to be embraced each day as one would embrace the visible. Absent of body is not absent of life. It is never absent of life. I believe that God inhabits our lives through these emerging souls, the young angels, the quiet conscience of humanity, set free to teach wisdom to the wise, to give peace to the unsettled, to bring love to those of us who struggle with our own constraints in the matter.
If we will only listen.
And set another place at the table.
If we will only listen.
And set another place at the table.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
If I Had One Day Left To Live
If I had only one day left to live I’d probably take a quiet walk in the woods, below the snow line, but above the timberline. I’d follow an old path along a living creek as it made its way over rich earth, across ancient ground, through granite rock, spilling softly out into a generous meadow. A missing piece of heaven, standing still, glistening in the early morning sun. I’d watch the light dancing on wet green moss, young blades of grass, and the new growth branches on young pine trees lining the edge of the field. I’d walk on those little fallen pinecones that congregate beneath the tallest of the trees. I’d step on them just for the sound of the crunch. I’d raise my head to find lazy clouds drifting silently, and unannounced, across a boundless expanse of azure sky. I’d listen for their wings, as birds danced on currents of air, like leaves in a light wind. I’d watch them land like feathers, on twigs as light as breath, but strong as a man whose own back bends under the weight of his brother. I’d sit by the water and watch the reflection of that same sky, with those same clouds, a mirror image of the miraculous. I’d put my head in my hands and thank God that I was fortunate enough to have had an abundance of these moments while living out my years amid the beauty of this ancient, sacred Garden. And I would feel sad for those who spent their lives inside, or captivated by the city.
Then I would dig my own grave, on the edge of the meadow, in a comfortable place, bathed partially in light, and partially in the shade. I would make it deep enough to allow my disappearance, but shallow enough that I could still see the outstretched arms of the welcoming sky.
Then I would go see my family to say my last goodbye’s. The final hugs, the last look in their eyes, the last words that I would ever speak, the last words that I would ever hear.
I’d tell my sons that they have always been my one intention, that I have loved them more than life, and that I left footprints on the ground for them in case they ever lose their way. I’d tell my grandson that if he grows up to be like his dad, or his uncle, he’d be a very good man. I‘d tell him “Be yourself grandson, but carry their goodness inside you”.
I’d tell the mother of my sons that I have always loved the part of her I find in them. I’d tell my little sister how much I’ve loved her, how she has been the pulse of my own heart, and that the loveliness of her ascension has always inspired me. I’d tell my little brother, how proud of him I have always been, and how humbled I have felt by his goodness. I’d let my parents know that I wish it had never been necessary for us to miss out on so much of each other’s lives. I would thank them for the foundation they gave me early on, and the embrace along the way. I’d tell my wife that I was found by her, and loved by her, that she was better at it than I was, but that my affection, and appreciation, for her ran as deep as the inadequacy of my love, like clean water underground, like a profound, but introverted, dream.
Then I would return again to the meadow, in the late afternoon, to the bed of earth I’d fashioned with my own hands, the final resting place for these old weathered bones. I’d lie down quietly on my weary back, face to the eternal sky, I’d close my eyes, and for the final minutes of my life, I’d listen for the wings of birds, dancing on currents of air, like leaves in a light wind.
If I had one day left to live.
What would you do?
Then I would dig my own grave, on the edge of the meadow, in a comfortable place, bathed partially in light, and partially in the shade. I would make it deep enough to allow my disappearance, but shallow enough that I could still see the outstretched arms of the welcoming sky.
Then I would go see my family to say my last goodbye’s. The final hugs, the last look in their eyes, the last words that I would ever speak, the last words that I would ever hear.
I’d tell my sons that they have always been my one intention, that I have loved them more than life, and that I left footprints on the ground for them in case they ever lose their way. I’d tell my grandson that if he grows up to be like his dad, or his uncle, he’d be a very good man. I‘d tell him “Be yourself grandson, but carry their goodness inside you”.
I’d tell the mother of my sons that I have always loved the part of her I find in them. I’d tell my little sister how much I’ve loved her, how she has been the pulse of my own heart, and that the loveliness of her ascension has always inspired me. I’d tell my little brother, how proud of him I have always been, and how humbled I have felt by his goodness. I’d let my parents know that I wish it had never been necessary for us to miss out on so much of each other’s lives. I would thank them for the foundation they gave me early on, and the embrace along the way. I’d tell my wife that I was found by her, and loved by her, that she was better at it than I was, but that my affection, and appreciation, for her ran as deep as the inadequacy of my love, like clean water underground, like a profound, but introverted, dream.
Then I would return again to the meadow, in the late afternoon, to the bed of earth I’d fashioned with my own hands, the final resting place for these old weathered bones. I’d lie down quietly on my weary back, face to the eternal sky, I’d close my eyes, and for the final minutes of my life, I’d listen for the wings of birds, dancing on currents of air, like leaves in a light wind.
If I had one day left to live.
What would you do?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Thoughts On Golf
Have you noticed how Tiger Woods, since he’s become Mr. Adonis from his 6-hour-per-day gym workouts, holds the pose on his backswing just a couple of seconds longer than he used to? Wants to give us all time to admire his physique, and get the photos, I suppose. We’re used to seeing Michelle Wie and Paula Creamer holding that pose, but I think the Tiger is getting just a little carried away in the vanity department these days. Somebody needs to sit him down and ask him, “Who do you think you are? Tiger Woods?” The self-importance is leading me to believe that perhaps he’s found a cure for cancer, but is keeping it quiet for now, waiting to make an announcement to the world after he wins the next Masters. I don’t want to be the one to remind him that he’s actually just hitting a little golf ball into a hole in the ground, but I might have to if no one else does.
Somebody once said, when asked if he enjoyed playing golf, “Why would I want to ruin a good walk in the park?” I actually love playing golf. I’m a pretty bad golfer compared to a good golfer, but for just playing every two or three years, I can usually find the hole with the ball before it gets dark. I’d probably be better if I got some of those golf shoes with the spikes so that I could actually walk on that beautifully manicured grass without slipping, sliding, stumbling, tripping and falling down all over the place. Get a good grip on the lawn, y’know. Hazardous ground, those golf courses. And maybe a pastel shirt and pants outfit to complete the look.
I like how when somebody is getting ready to hit the ball (I think they actually call it ‘teeing up, and striking the ball’), and everybody in the crowd (I think they actually call it the gallery) has to hold their breath, not make a sound, and then exhale together with a whispered chorus of ‘ooohhs’ and ‘aaahh’s in admiration of the magnificent feat of hitting (striking) a stationary ball with an $800 custom made club embedded with a global-positioning device that will actually allow the club head to find the ball for you. I think it’s a study in concentration, not necessarily for the golfer, but for the crowd (gallery), who has to co-ordinate the group response as if it were the ultimate affirmation to legitimize the shot. And then they throw you out of the gallery if you cough, or if your mother calls to ask “How come you never call?”
Baseball players trying to hit a 98 mile per hour Randy Johnson fastball, or a wicked, curveball, slider or changeup that’s ducking, darting and moving around like your little tickle sister, and with the crowd hollering, stomping, taking flash photos and talking on their cell phones, must find that golf protocol just a little silly. Wouldn’t ya think?
OK, the inevitable, and always controversial, question? Are golfers athletes?
Answer: I don’t know, but those guys that carry their bag, find their ball for them, and tell them which club to use, might be.
Second, and more thoughtful answer:
Who cares?
Please, no emails from disgruntled, or offended, golfers.
Just having a little fun folks. I don’t want to be accused of being too serious all the time.
Somebody once said, when asked if he enjoyed playing golf, “Why would I want to ruin a good walk in the park?” I actually love playing golf. I’m a pretty bad golfer compared to a good golfer, but for just playing every two or three years, I can usually find the hole with the ball before it gets dark. I’d probably be better if I got some of those golf shoes with the spikes so that I could actually walk on that beautifully manicured grass without slipping, sliding, stumbling, tripping and falling down all over the place. Get a good grip on the lawn, y’know. Hazardous ground, those golf courses. And maybe a pastel shirt and pants outfit to complete the look.
I like how when somebody is getting ready to hit the ball (I think they actually call it ‘teeing up, and striking the ball’), and everybody in the crowd (I think they actually call it the gallery) has to hold their breath, not make a sound, and then exhale together with a whispered chorus of ‘ooohhs’ and ‘aaahh’s in admiration of the magnificent feat of hitting (striking) a stationary ball with an $800 custom made club embedded with a global-positioning device that will actually allow the club head to find the ball for you. I think it’s a study in concentration, not necessarily for the golfer, but for the crowd (gallery), who has to co-ordinate the group response as if it were the ultimate affirmation to legitimize the shot. And then they throw you out of the gallery if you cough, or if your mother calls to ask “How come you never call?”
Baseball players trying to hit a 98 mile per hour Randy Johnson fastball, or a wicked, curveball, slider or changeup that’s ducking, darting and moving around like your little tickle sister, and with the crowd hollering, stomping, taking flash photos and talking on their cell phones, must find that golf protocol just a little silly. Wouldn’t ya think?
OK, the inevitable, and always controversial, question? Are golfers athletes?
Answer: I don’t know, but those guys that carry their bag, find their ball for them, and tell them which club to use, might be.
Second, and more thoughtful answer:
Who cares?
Please, no emails from disgruntled, or offended, golfers.
Just having a little fun folks. I don’t want to be accused of being too serious all the time.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
People Really Like To Say Fuck
Oh, did I say that?
I don’t know about you, but I can hardly believe that people still talk like that. I mean, I’ve been counting, and the word ‘Fuck’ has been used, to date, 357 trillion, 452 billion, 617 million, 732 thousand, 5 hundred and 14 times. And that’s not even counting me using it in the title of this blog, or in this sentence. At what point does a word just get used up? I mean, the word is as meaningless these days as the word ‘bi-partisan’, but everybody still keeps using it. ‘Damn’ has more impact now than ‘Fuck’ does, basically because you never hear the word ‘Damn’ anymore. Too moderate. And actually, ‘Damn you’ has a more permanent implication than ‘Fuck you’ ever did. ‘God damn you’ is the ultimate curse really. But we don’t hear that either.
Kids say ‘Fuck’ to check other people’s reaction, and to help determine their own parent’s boundaries. Teens say it to act savvy, experienced, in the know, to express their independence, or just to get attention. Parents say it so their kids will think they’re cool. But the kids don’t think they’re cool, the kids think they’re idiots. The kids think the parents are stealing their words. Funny, the parents don’t want the kids using those ‘adult’ words, and the kids don’t want their parents using those ‘kid’ words. Females seem to use it as a sign of their personal liberation. Liberation from what? Decency?
Many movies consist of nothing more than contrived intensity and the word ‘Fuck’. Makes them gritty, cutting edge, ‘real’. The more people you have saying ‘Fuck’ in the movie, the more realistic it’s considered to be. Some movies just have one guy saying it, but he says it a lot, all the time really. He says it every way the word can be said. I often wonder if the director is expounding intellectually upon the writers original script, or if the scriptwriter had just run out of language. I don’t know, maybe the actor forgets his lines, and the director says “Listen, if you forget a line, just say ‘Fuck’.” Who would know?
Hey, I think it’s time to move on. We’ve been stuck on ‘Fuck’ for way too long. I think we should throw a ‘sayonara’ party, an international event to put the word to rest. We could co-ordinate it over the inter-net. We could encourage everybody in the world to, at a certain time on a specific day, in unison, and in every different language, stand up from what we’re doing and just say “Fuck”.
Twice if we need to.
And be done with it.
Then we could move on to more important words,
like ‘ranunculaceous’.
I don’t know about you, but I can hardly believe that people still talk like that. I mean, I’ve been counting, and the word ‘Fuck’ has been used, to date, 357 trillion, 452 billion, 617 million, 732 thousand, 5 hundred and 14 times. And that’s not even counting me using it in the title of this blog, or in this sentence. At what point does a word just get used up? I mean, the word is as meaningless these days as the word ‘bi-partisan’, but everybody still keeps using it. ‘Damn’ has more impact now than ‘Fuck’ does, basically because you never hear the word ‘Damn’ anymore. Too moderate. And actually, ‘Damn you’ has a more permanent implication than ‘Fuck you’ ever did. ‘God damn you’ is the ultimate curse really. But we don’t hear that either.
Kids say ‘Fuck’ to check other people’s reaction, and to help determine their own parent’s boundaries. Teens say it to act savvy, experienced, in the know, to express their independence, or just to get attention. Parents say it so their kids will think they’re cool. But the kids don’t think they’re cool, the kids think they’re idiots. The kids think the parents are stealing their words. Funny, the parents don’t want the kids using those ‘adult’ words, and the kids don’t want their parents using those ‘kid’ words. Females seem to use it as a sign of their personal liberation. Liberation from what? Decency?
Many movies consist of nothing more than contrived intensity and the word ‘Fuck’. Makes them gritty, cutting edge, ‘real’. The more people you have saying ‘Fuck’ in the movie, the more realistic it’s considered to be. Some movies just have one guy saying it, but he says it a lot, all the time really. He says it every way the word can be said. I often wonder if the director is expounding intellectually upon the writers original script, or if the scriptwriter had just run out of language. I don’t know, maybe the actor forgets his lines, and the director says “Listen, if you forget a line, just say ‘Fuck’.” Who would know?
Hey, I think it’s time to move on. We’ve been stuck on ‘Fuck’ for way too long. I think we should throw a ‘sayonara’ party, an international event to put the word to rest. We could co-ordinate it over the inter-net. We could encourage everybody in the world to, at a certain time on a specific day, in unison, and in every different language, stand up from what we’re doing and just say “Fuck”.
Twice if we need to.
And be done with it.
Then we could move on to more important words,
like ‘ranunculaceous’.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The God Column
* Are socialites, bored trophy-wives, and Deepak and Wayne Dyer wannabe’s still claiming to be spiritual just because they light candles in their spacious meditation rooms, and drink their Chablis barefooted on woven bamboo mats on hardwood floors?
* Ever notice how poor people never claim to be spiritual? Can’t afford the books and dvd’s, I guess. Oh yeah, and their meditation room? Probably filled with the actual necessities of living.
* Is God really alive today? Must have resurrected himself again. I remember when the word was out that ‘God is dead’. Actually, I think we just morphed him into an image of ourselves, gave him a yoga mat, and suggested he ‘go sit over there on the floor’. God must have a pretty good identity crises of his own going these days.
* But there’s really nothing wrong with God that our leaving him alone wouldn’t fix. We’ve already done a damn good job of soiling his reputation.
* Most people recognize God when they need something from him, like teen-agers begging dad to use the car. But how many of those same teen-agers even acknowledge the existence of parents when they don’t want something from them?
* John Lennon said, “God is a concept by which we measure our pain”. But I think John got it wrong. I think pain is a concept by which we measure our God. I’ve said that before, but hey, this is a ‘God column’, so it bears repeating.
* The first Commandment (of the abbreviated Ten) says “I am the Lord thy God, thou shalt have no other gods before me.” However, the problem is that everybody tends to think “If I can’t have any other gods, then OK, there is NO god.” In other words, “If we can’t play by MY rules, then I’ll take my ball and go home”. Maybe God could have phrased the commandment a little better to accommodate everybody. Something like “Hey people, you and I both know that I’m God, but while you’re growing up you can have all the little paper gods you want. Get that out of your system, and after you become an adult, well, then I’d like a little more respect. If you don’t mind, of course.” You know, a suggestion, rather than a commandment. In fact that’d work better for everybody. Yeah, The Ten Suggestions. I like the sound of that.
* The bible says “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. . . . . . . , and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.”
Question: So, if I don’t have any neighbors I can’t really do that second part. Then does that mean I don’t have to do the first part either?
Answer: Huh?
* Another Question: “If there’s a God, then why does he let war and disease and death, and bad things like that happen to good people?”
Good question. If you’re five.
* Ever hear somebody say “The god in me loves the god in you, brother”?
Translation: “I hate your ass, and it’s a good thing that my god loves your god or else you’d be one messed up mother f***er right now.”
Don’t you just love the spiritual heights to which we climb?
* Cleanliness is next to Godliness. If that were true, everybody using anti-bacterial soaps, shampoos and lotions would be saints. And of course, conversely, ditch diggers, soldiers, cowboys, and mud wrestlers would be children of the devil. Well, mud wrestlers. . . . . . maybe! But it’d be fun to wrestle with the devil’s kids if that were the case.
* You know all those devotional candles in the Catholic Church that you can go in and light, as a prayer, or as a remembrance of somebody? Do ya think you should really have to pay to light those candles? Just asking.
* God helps those who help themselves. Oh really? Seems like they don’t need any help. I’d like to think God helps those incapable of helping themselves. But that’s just me.
* Ever notice how ‘God Dammit’ and ‘Jesus Christ’ seems to be pretty common language for many Atheists when expressing anger, frustration, or indignation at the suggestion of a God?
* God cannot be mocked. Those claiming to represent him can be mocked. But mocking God? Fool’s gonna lose that battle every time.
God’s always gonna have the last word, ya know!
* Ever hear it said, “The devil’s in the details?” Could be the best definition of religion that I’ve ever heard.
* There’s really nothing wrong with religion that a religious pyromaniac couldn’t fix.
* A lot of people say they know God. A lot of people say they know their neighbor too, but they’ve never had him over for dinner. They just wave once in a while when backing the car out of the driveway.
* Jesus Saves. And if, as a nation, we’d followed his example and saved a little bit ourselves, we might not be in the financial mess that we find ourselves in today.
* God has a plan for your life.
Oh, sorry, my mistake, that was Obama with the plan for your life.
Ah, C’mon friends, get a sense of humor!
* Ever notice how poor people never claim to be spiritual? Can’t afford the books and dvd’s, I guess. Oh yeah, and their meditation room? Probably filled with the actual necessities of living.
* Is God really alive today? Must have resurrected himself again. I remember when the word was out that ‘God is dead’. Actually, I think we just morphed him into an image of ourselves, gave him a yoga mat, and suggested he ‘go sit over there on the floor’. God must have a pretty good identity crises of his own going these days.
* But there’s really nothing wrong with God that our leaving him alone wouldn’t fix. We’ve already done a damn good job of soiling his reputation.
* Most people recognize God when they need something from him, like teen-agers begging dad to use the car. But how many of those same teen-agers even acknowledge the existence of parents when they don’t want something from them?
* John Lennon said, “God is a concept by which we measure our pain”. But I think John got it wrong. I think pain is a concept by which we measure our God. I’ve said that before, but hey, this is a ‘God column’, so it bears repeating.
* The first Commandment (of the abbreviated Ten) says “I am the Lord thy God, thou shalt have no other gods before me.” However, the problem is that everybody tends to think “If I can’t have any other gods, then OK, there is NO god.” In other words, “If we can’t play by MY rules, then I’ll take my ball and go home”. Maybe God could have phrased the commandment a little better to accommodate everybody. Something like “Hey people, you and I both know that I’m God, but while you’re growing up you can have all the little paper gods you want. Get that out of your system, and after you become an adult, well, then I’d like a little more respect. If you don’t mind, of course.” You know, a suggestion, rather than a commandment. In fact that’d work better for everybody. Yeah, The Ten Suggestions. I like the sound of that.
* The bible says “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. . . . . . . , and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.”
Question: So, if I don’t have any neighbors I can’t really do that second part. Then does that mean I don’t have to do the first part either?
Answer: Huh?
* Another Question: “If there’s a God, then why does he let war and disease and death, and bad things like that happen to good people?”
Good question. If you’re five.
* Ever hear somebody say “The god in me loves the god in you, brother”?
Translation: “I hate your ass, and it’s a good thing that my god loves your god or else you’d be one messed up mother f***er right now.”
Don’t you just love the spiritual heights to which we climb?
* Cleanliness is next to Godliness. If that were true, everybody using anti-bacterial soaps, shampoos and lotions would be saints. And of course, conversely, ditch diggers, soldiers, cowboys, and mud wrestlers would be children of the devil. Well, mud wrestlers. . . . . . maybe! But it’d be fun to wrestle with the devil’s kids if that were the case.
* You know all those devotional candles in the Catholic Church that you can go in and light, as a prayer, or as a remembrance of somebody? Do ya think you should really have to pay to light those candles? Just asking.
* God helps those who help themselves. Oh really? Seems like they don’t need any help. I’d like to think God helps those incapable of helping themselves. But that’s just me.
* Ever notice how ‘God Dammit’ and ‘Jesus Christ’ seems to be pretty common language for many Atheists when expressing anger, frustration, or indignation at the suggestion of a God?
* God cannot be mocked. Those claiming to represent him can be mocked. But mocking God? Fool’s gonna lose that battle every time.
God’s always gonna have the last word, ya know!
* Ever hear it said, “The devil’s in the details?” Could be the best definition of religion that I’ve ever heard.
* There’s really nothing wrong with religion that a religious pyromaniac couldn’t fix.
* A lot of people say they know God. A lot of people say they know their neighbor too, but they’ve never had him over for dinner. They just wave once in a while when backing the car out of the driveway.
* Jesus Saves. And if, as a nation, we’d followed his example and saved a little bit ourselves, we might not be in the financial mess that we find ourselves in today.
* God has a plan for your life.
Oh, sorry, my mistake, that was Obama with the plan for your life.
Ah, C’mon friends, get a sense of humor!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Wolf In Somebody
A friend of mine told me about a woman who used to work with him. She was about thirty-nine or forty years old. He’d mentored the woman for a couple of years, gave her room to fully integrate on the job, and with the other staff, shared his responsibilities with her, enabled situations that allowed the establishment of her own identity in the work environment, and gave her the kind of respect that empowered her development.
On a very regular basis the woman brought my friend (and his wife) bags of fruits and vegetables from her garden, she baked breads, cakes, and cookies for them, and told him how much she enjoyed working with him. She told my friend’s boss what a great situation she had with him, how much she loved her job, and how she didn’t ever want to work anywhere else.
And then there arose cause for moderation of her social behavior on the job. My friend’s boss suggested that he talk to her about it, which he did. The woman denied the need for any change, suggested she didn’t even know what he was talking about, cried, and then pouted for a couple of weeks. It had become very clear to him that she was incapable of accepting any correction. She said her feelings were hurt.
Feelings: The preferred weapon of the weak.
Feelings are what the woman used to effectively transform the idea of ‘correction’, in her mind, into the word ‘criticism’, and then ‘Criticism’ into ‘CRITICISM’, internalizing the situation so that it became about her feelings rather than about the need for change. Criticism is much easier to deal with than correction because correction implies the need to take responsibility for a particular action or behavior. As long as one can fall back on hurt feelings, one can maintain the defensive, and protective, posture of having been the victim. Those who embrace victim-hood wield feelings as a very powerful weapon. But feelings, as I have said before, are the weapon of the weak. They are the domain of the adolescent, the kingdom of those not yet come of age, or too afraid to grow up. She embraced her feelings, imposed them on my friend, and used them to avoid personal accountability, and to put off actually dealing with the situation with the courage and honesty required to effectuate a solution.
She reinforced within herself the power of tears, and the manipulative strength of her feelings. But as my friend suggested to me about his situation, “just because she cried, it does not necessarily mean that he ‘made’ her cry”. And particularly when the vast, and overwhelming, majority of adults would not cry in such a situation. Most children wouldn’t. Says more about the recipient (victim) of the correction than it does about the messenger. “I ask myself”, he said, “would the man have cried if the woman approached him in like manner, and with the same correction? Of course not, and if he did, the woman would certainly not have been accused of ‘making’ him cry. He would be considered ‘fragile’, unstable. A double standard, to say the least. Sexism at work in the work place.”
Now, I told my friend that the woman should not be judged for her weakness, nor should he think less of her for wielding her feelings as a weapon. It’s unlikely that she intended to. It’s more likely that it was just the most comfortable, and familiar, place for her, the place she has always gone when she has felt threatened. People have a lot of pain in their lives, from a myriad of circumstances, much of which has been beyond their own control. And I am smart enough to know that the weapon, more often than not, actually chooses the individual. The individual becomes compromised to the point where whichever weapon most naturally, and comfortably, fits their grip is the one that will settle into their hand. It is more a ‘Pavlov’s Dog’ response than of a malicious, or retributory intent. I told him that it’s what she does with her feelings after that, that matters.
My friend agreed with me about the dynamic, but said, “it gets worse”, then went on to explain that at about the same time it was all happening, it was also beginning to become clear that between the two of their jobs, one of them was likely going to be eliminated. Ultimately, one person would need to be moved into another position at the company in order to make room for the addition of a more senior position. The woman was terrified of change, scared to death, and knew my friend had both stature, and seniority, by many years, so she began soliciting sympathy for her ‘he made me cry’ posture. It grew from there to a long list of all of my friend’s ‘inappropriate’ behaviors, all the things that made her ‘afraid’ of him, twisting every good and supportive action of his over the previous two years into a threatening and intimidating mine field for her to have had to navigate. He said his situation began to remind him of the old axiom “No good deed goes unpunished”.
She spread the accusations and innuendo among the same group of co-workers that my friend had always enjoyed a kind, and mutually supportive, relationship with. And she brought the lies to his boss. Engaging in a vicious, and calculated, attempt to undermine him in order to take his job, but with little to no possibility of succeeding, she made the ultimate accusation against my friend, the one thing that she thought would assure her of coming out on top of the situation. She accused my friend of ‘sexual harassment’. Of course, she said it happened a year ago, and that she couldn’t remember what he’d actually said to her, but nevertheless, it was sexual harassment.
My friend was told of the accusation, and questioned about it, by his boss. His response was that he would not dignify the accusation. He would not submit to a review, go before a panel, or a board of inquisitors (judges), and that she could tell them exactly that. My friend told me that if anyone was going to submit to a review, it was going to be the forty year-old woman who proved to have the psychological/emotional makeup of a desperate adolescent.
"What the woman didn't know", my friend said, is that "I was planning on leaving the job in about six weeks, with the intent of her inheriting the position. I had always mentored her towards that end."
As I learned from my friend, the woman has, for many years, been indulging in a steady diet of nightly ‘Slasher/Horror’ movies (dvd’s), accompanied by weekly doses of Survivor. As I have always said, and as I told him again, “What you’re filled with is, inevitably, what spills out when you’re tilted.”
She got tilted.
Her hostility, vindictiveness, and aggression were mixed to perfection.
They spilled out like toxic waste.
According to my friend, the woman was ultimately transferred to a different situation, where she will, most likely, bring bags of fruits and vegetables from her garden, and begin baking breads, cakes, and cookies for whoever has stature, and seniority, over her there.
In thinking about my friend’s ordeal I am reminded that we used to have children’s stories to prepare us for many of these real-life situations.
Little Red Riding Hood, the story of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, comes to mind.
It’s funny, but as humans, we don’t ever really want to see the wolf in somebody.
We prefer to see the lamb, but unfortunately, it enables the proliferation of wolves.
I don’t know if parents still read those kinds of stories to their kids.
But I hope they do.
On a very regular basis the woman brought my friend (and his wife) bags of fruits and vegetables from her garden, she baked breads, cakes, and cookies for them, and told him how much she enjoyed working with him. She told my friend’s boss what a great situation she had with him, how much she loved her job, and how she didn’t ever want to work anywhere else.
And then there arose cause for moderation of her social behavior on the job. My friend’s boss suggested that he talk to her about it, which he did. The woman denied the need for any change, suggested she didn’t even know what he was talking about, cried, and then pouted for a couple of weeks. It had become very clear to him that she was incapable of accepting any correction. She said her feelings were hurt.
Feelings: The preferred weapon of the weak.
Feelings are what the woman used to effectively transform the idea of ‘correction’, in her mind, into the word ‘criticism’, and then ‘Criticism’ into ‘CRITICISM’, internalizing the situation so that it became about her feelings rather than about the need for change. Criticism is much easier to deal with than correction because correction implies the need to take responsibility for a particular action or behavior. As long as one can fall back on hurt feelings, one can maintain the defensive, and protective, posture of having been the victim. Those who embrace victim-hood wield feelings as a very powerful weapon. But feelings, as I have said before, are the weapon of the weak. They are the domain of the adolescent, the kingdom of those not yet come of age, or too afraid to grow up. She embraced her feelings, imposed them on my friend, and used them to avoid personal accountability, and to put off actually dealing with the situation with the courage and honesty required to effectuate a solution.
She reinforced within herself the power of tears, and the manipulative strength of her feelings. But as my friend suggested to me about his situation, “just because she cried, it does not necessarily mean that he ‘made’ her cry”. And particularly when the vast, and overwhelming, majority of adults would not cry in such a situation. Most children wouldn’t. Says more about the recipient (victim) of the correction than it does about the messenger. “I ask myself”, he said, “would the man have cried if the woman approached him in like manner, and with the same correction? Of course not, and if he did, the woman would certainly not have been accused of ‘making’ him cry. He would be considered ‘fragile’, unstable. A double standard, to say the least. Sexism at work in the work place.”
Now, I told my friend that the woman should not be judged for her weakness, nor should he think less of her for wielding her feelings as a weapon. It’s unlikely that she intended to. It’s more likely that it was just the most comfortable, and familiar, place for her, the place she has always gone when she has felt threatened. People have a lot of pain in their lives, from a myriad of circumstances, much of which has been beyond their own control. And I am smart enough to know that the weapon, more often than not, actually chooses the individual. The individual becomes compromised to the point where whichever weapon most naturally, and comfortably, fits their grip is the one that will settle into their hand. It is more a ‘Pavlov’s Dog’ response than of a malicious, or retributory intent. I told him that it’s what she does with her feelings after that, that matters.
My friend agreed with me about the dynamic, but said, “it gets worse”, then went on to explain that at about the same time it was all happening, it was also beginning to become clear that between the two of their jobs, one of them was likely going to be eliminated. Ultimately, one person would need to be moved into another position at the company in order to make room for the addition of a more senior position. The woman was terrified of change, scared to death, and knew my friend had both stature, and seniority, by many years, so she began soliciting sympathy for her ‘he made me cry’ posture. It grew from there to a long list of all of my friend’s ‘inappropriate’ behaviors, all the things that made her ‘afraid’ of him, twisting every good and supportive action of his over the previous two years into a threatening and intimidating mine field for her to have had to navigate. He said his situation began to remind him of the old axiom “No good deed goes unpunished”.
She spread the accusations and innuendo among the same group of co-workers that my friend had always enjoyed a kind, and mutually supportive, relationship with. And she brought the lies to his boss. Engaging in a vicious, and calculated, attempt to undermine him in order to take his job, but with little to no possibility of succeeding, she made the ultimate accusation against my friend, the one thing that she thought would assure her of coming out on top of the situation. She accused my friend of ‘sexual harassment’. Of course, she said it happened a year ago, and that she couldn’t remember what he’d actually said to her, but nevertheless, it was sexual harassment.
My friend was told of the accusation, and questioned about it, by his boss. His response was that he would not dignify the accusation. He would not submit to a review, go before a panel, or a board of inquisitors (judges), and that she could tell them exactly that. My friend told me that if anyone was going to submit to a review, it was going to be the forty year-old woman who proved to have the psychological/emotional makeup of a desperate adolescent.
"What the woman didn't know", my friend said, is that "I was planning on leaving the job in about six weeks, with the intent of her inheriting the position. I had always mentored her towards that end."
As I learned from my friend, the woman has, for many years, been indulging in a steady diet of nightly ‘Slasher/Horror’ movies (dvd’s), accompanied by weekly doses of Survivor. As I have always said, and as I told him again, “What you’re filled with is, inevitably, what spills out when you’re tilted.”
She got tilted.
Her hostility, vindictiveness, and aggression were mixed to perfection.
They spilled out like toxic waste.
According to my friend, the woman was ultimately transferred to a different situation, where she will, most likely, bring bags of fruits and vegetables from her garden, and begin baking breads, cakes, and cookies for whoever has stature, and seniority, over her there.
In thinking about my friend’s ordeal I am reminded that we used to have children’s stories to prepare us for many of these real-life situations.
Little Red Riding Hood, the story of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, comes to mind.
It’s funny, but as humans, we don’t ever really want to see the wolf in somebody.
We prefer to see the lamb, but unfortunately, it enables the proliferation of wolves.
I don’t know if parents still read those kinds of stories to their kids.
But I hope they do.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Organizing The World
Somebody once said “technology is mans way of organizing the world so that he never actually has to experience it.”
It is becoming increasingly possible to live in that world. We have the technology now to insulate ourselves from anything actually experiential. We only need immerse ourselves in life if we choose to do so. Most of us can just dip a foot in the water periodically to enable the sensation of being among the living. There should be no blame assigned to living such a cocoon existence. Life has become overwhelming for many, with overcrowded cities and towns, the accompanying congestion of the roads, public gathering places, even the parks and hiking trails. When getting around, and getting in and out of places of business becomes a chore, rather than a matter-of-fact accommodation of our needs, when it becomes a burden, rather than a pleasure, it is no wonder that we tend to organize our lives to avoid such involvements, or confrontations as it were, as much as possible. We have the wherewithal to do so, and we avail ourselves of the convenience at every opportunity. We can choose when, and where, to actually interact with other human beings.
We do our banking online to avoid the banks. We pay our bills online to avoid the Post Office. We subscribe to Netflix, or premium movie channels, for the convenience of avoiding crowds, and the expense, of the Theater. We email, text, or Tweet people rather than calling, or visiting them. We don’t ever have to stop and ask directions of another person if we’re going somewhere because we have our Map Quest print-outs, or our global positioning navigation in the car. We drive-thru for our food, and sit in our cars to eat. Whole families even, when the kids would much rather be eating in the park. There’s a DVD screen in the back seat to keep the kids engaged during lunch, insulating the parent from the kids.
I’ve noticed that we not only avoid the association of other humans much more than we used to, but we also avoid connection to the natural elements whenever possible. I was observing today, and have been for quite some time, that people don’t even drive with their windows down any more, or their sunroofs open like they used to, even in moderate weather. It was a beautiful day today, and I had the windows down in my Jeep. It occurred to me to count the number of drivers I saw with their windows down. In the forty-five minutes I was in the car I counted one. Me. There were no others. There literally were no others. I was enjoying the smell of the fresh air, the sound of the wind, the feel of the different temperature changes on my arms and face, and the sounds of life around me. The barking of a dog, the voices of kids on the playground of the school I drove by, a man calling his wife to come outside and see the clouds laying low on the hillside above the valley. I heard birds, the rushing of the different creeks I drove by, or over, and I heard a couple of goats making animal sounds at the fence on a nice ½ acre parcel of land in a quaint little neighborhood. I heard a lot of different sounds that I would not have been privy to with my windows up.
We have successfully insulated ourselves from many aspects of the world around us. I understand why we do it, and I do it myself more often than not. Who wants to hear the sound of traffic, motors racing, horns honking, stereos blaring from other cars, or people in a hurry who just cannot contain their own anxiety? We roll up our windows, turn up our own sounds, and turn on the climate control. Enables us to control our environment when we can control so little else of what goes on around us these days. It’s good to have this kind of control, but we’re really missing something along the way.
“Technology is mans way of organizing the world so that he never actually has to experience it.”
It is becoming increasingly possible to live in that world. We have the technology now to insulate ourselves from anything actually experiential. We only need immerse ourselves in life if we choose to do so. Most of us can just dip a foot in the water periodically to enable the sensation of being among the living. There should be no blame assigned to living such a cocoon existence. Life has become overwhelming for many, with overcrowded cities and towns, the accompanying congestion of the roads, public gathering places, even the parks and hiking trails. When getting around, and getting in and out of places of business becomes a chore, rather than a matter-of-fact accommodation of our needs, when it becomes a burden, rather than a pleasure, it is no wonder that we tend to organize our lives to avoid such involvements, or confrontations as it were, as much as possible. We have the wherewithal to do so, and we avail ourselves of the convenience at every opportunity. We can choose when, and where, to actually interact with other human beings.
We do our banking online to avoid the banks. We pay our bills online to avoid the Post Office. We subscribe to Netflix, or premium movie channels, for the convenience of avoiding crowds, and the expense, of the Theater. We email, text, or Tweet people rather than calling, or visiting them. We don’t ever have to stop and ask directions of another person if we’re going somewhere because we have our Map Quest print-outs, or our global positioning navigation in the car. We drive-thru for our food, and sit in our cars to eat. Whole families even, when the kids would much rather be eating in the park. There’s a DVD screen in the back seat to keep the kids engaged during lunch, insulating the parent from the kids.
I’ve noticed that we not only avoid the association of other humans much more than we used to, but we also avoid connection to the natural elements whenever possible. I was observing today, and have been for quite some time, that people don’t even drive with their windows down any more, or their sunroofs open like they used to, even in moderate weather. It was a beautiful day today, and I had the windows down in my Jeep. It occurred to me to count the number of drivers I saw with their windows down. In the forty-five minutes I was in the car I counted one. Me. There were no others. There literally were no others. I was enjoying the smell of the fresh air, the sound of the wind, the feel of the different temperature changes on my arms and face, and the sounds of life around me. The barking of a dog, the voices of kids on the playground of the school I drove by, a man calling his wife to come outside and see the clouds laying low on the hillside above the valley. I heard birds, the rushing of the different creeks I drove by, or over, and I heard a couple of goats making animal sounds at the fence on a nice ½ acre parcel of land in a quaint little neighborhood. I heard a lot of different sounds that I would not have been privy to with my windows up.
We have successfully insulated ourselves from many aspects of the world around us. I understand why we do it, and I do it myself more often than not. Who wants to hear the sound of traffic, motors racing, horns honking, stereos blaring from other cars, or people in a hurry who just cannot contain their own anxiety? We roll up our windows, turn up our own sounds, and turn on the climate control. Enables us to control our environment when we can control so little else of what goes on around us these days. It’s good to have this kind of control, but we’re really missing something along the way.
“Technology is mans way of organizing the world so that he never actually has to experience it.”
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I Know, I Promised
I know, I promised ‘no more politics’. And I’m sorry, but. . . . . .
David Axelrod, the President’s Senior Advisor says that “Shovel-ready projects are the key to the stimulus package”.
OK, we’re going to flood the nation with construction jobs, getting the infrastructure built back up to par and putting people back to work. That would be a good thing.
But let’s see now, when the construction jobs dried up with our economic crash, the illegal immigrants who were actually working those jobs fled back home to Mexico. So now that money is going to be made available again for construction jobs, I guess that means they’ll be flooding back into the United States to take these jobs so they can resume sending the wages back to their families in Mexico.
And exactly how does that benefit the American people?
Oh, I get it, the President will make them all American citizens.
Yes, and that would also assure that they, and their families, vote ‘Democratic’ for the next several generations. Of course.
But hey, that’s better than actually buying votes, don’t you think?
I’m really growing to love this Country. We’re getting so clever.
Of course, some of my readers will consider me racist, or even worse in their eyes, Republican, for suggesting such a thing. But I have this funny habit of ‘seeing what is there’, rather than ‘seeing what I wish were there’. Can’t help it.
And, have you noticed how Nancy Pelosi, and the Secretary of the Treasury, and a lot of those guys are in Europe trying to ‘fix’ (their word, not mine) the ‘Global’ Economy? Fix is right, folks. The fix is in.
(finger to lips) Sssshhhh.
Now, as I’ve always said. . . . . . . “No more politics”.
David Axelrod, the President’s Senior Advisor says that “Shovel-ready projects are the key to the stimulus package”.
OK, we’re going to flood the nation with construction jobs, getting the infrastructure built back up to par and putting people back to work. That would be a good thing.
But let’s see now, when the construction jobs dried up with our economic crash, the illegal immigrants who were actually working those jobs fled back home to Mexico. So now that money is going to be made available again for construction jobs, I guess that means they’ll be flooding back into the United States to take these jobs so they can resume sending the wages back to their families in Mexico.
And exactly how does that benefit the American people?
Oh, I get it, the President will make them all American citizens.
Yes, and that would also assure that they, and their families, vote ‘Democratic’ for the next several generations. Of course.
But hey, that’s better than actually buying votes, don’t you think?
I’m really growing to love this Country. We’re getting so clever.
Of course, some of my readers will consider me racist, or even worse in their eyes, Republican, for suggesting such a thing. But I have this funny habit of ‘seeing what is there’, rather than ‘seeing what I wish were there’. Can’t help it.
And, have you noticed how Nancy Pelosi, and the Secretary of the Treasury, and a lot of those guys are in Europe trying to ‘fix’ (their word, not mine) the ‘Global’ Economy? Fix is right, folks. The fix is in.
(finger to lips) Sssshhhh.
Now, as I’ve always said. . . . . . . “No more politics”.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Who Said That?
Speaking in opposition to the proposed construction of a Retirement Community in the Santa Rosa, California area,
it was said:
“The project, if approved, would be built over the top of blades of grass, stones, and such that perhaps used to be people. There are many cultures that believe that their ancestors come back as a tree, they come back as a grain of sand, they come back as a part of nature, and that you are walking with those all the time.”
OK, here’s the fun part. Asked to comment on the proposed construction project, the above statement was made by:
A. A student in a California kindergarten class?
B. A UC Berkeley Philosophy Professor?
C. A stoned thirteen-year-old sitting with friends on the sidewalk in front of a cafe?
D. A street corner Sage?
E. Woody Harrelson?
F. A member of the ‘Leaves for Jesus’ Enviro-religious cult?
G. A resident of Napa State Hospital (mental institution)?
H. Swami Origami?
I. All of the above?
J. None of the above?
Just take a few minutes now, this is a hard one.
All right, I’ll help you out. If you guessed ‘A’ thru ‘H’, you’re way wrong, although any one of them might have said the same thing if asked.
If you guessed ‘I’, you could have been right, but again, they were never asked.
But if you guessed ‘J’ you’re smart enough to get elected to the Santa Rosa City Council.
Yes, that’s correct folks, the statement was made by Marsha Vas Dupre, the Vice-Mayor of the City of Santa Rosa, California. The statement was given as her reason for voting against the proposed construction of a new Retirement Community.
“. . . . . . The project, if approved, would be built over the top of blades of grass, stones, and such that perhaps used to be people.”
Like I have always said, “AAAARRRRHHHH!”
God help us all. These people are managing our communities, and our tax dollars!
Just kill me now.
it was said:
“The project, if approved, would be built over the top of blades of grass, stones, and such that perhaps used to be people. There are many cultures that believe that their ancestors come back as a tree, they come back as a grain of sand, they come back as a part of nature, and that you are walking with those all the time.”
OK, here’s the fun part. Asked to comment on the proposed construction project, the above statement was made by:
A. A student in a California kindergarten class?
B. A UC Berkeley Philosophy Professor?
C. A stoned thirteen-year-old sitting with friends on the sidewalk in front of a cafe?
D. A street corner Sage?
E. Woody Harrelson?
F. A member of the ‘Leaves for Jesus’ Enviro-religious cult?
G. A resident of Napa State Hospital (mental institution)?
H. Swami Origami?
I. All of the above?
J. None of the above?
Just take a few minutes now, this is a hard one.
All right, I’ll help you out. If you guessed ‘A’ thru ‘H’, you’re way wrong, although any one of them might have said the same thing if asked.
If you guessed ‘I’, you could have been right, but again, they were never asked.
But if you guessed ‘J’ you’re smart enough to get elected to the Santa Rosa City Council.
Yes, that’s correct folks, the statement was made by Marsha Vas Dupre, the Vice-Mayor of the City of Santa Rosa, California. The statement was given as her reason for voting against the proposed construction of a new Retirement Community.
“. . . . . . The project, if approved, would be built over the top of blades of grass, stones, and such that perhaps used to be people.”
Like I have always said, “AAAARRRRHHHH!”
God help us all. These people are managing our communities, and our tax dollars!
Just kill me now.
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