for they shall be.
Did you ever notice that some people have all the luck and other people seem accident prone? I wonder about that. The good books I'm reading lately are saying that we are what we imagine we are. So, I must think I'm a dingbat, cause I forget to do some things I thought I wanted to do. I think I sabotage myself, because I'm afraid of being a success. Maybe I was taught that that would be bad, not overtly, but subtly, like with derision and sarcasm. (I had to learn it from somewhere)
I guess, then, if I want a different life, I have to think differently. If I can't imagine myself healthy, wealthy, and wise, how will I ever be flourishing in my beach house while I scribe my secrets of joyous living? I could scold myself for being a dolt, cuz I missed most of the class, or I could have the spunk to extract all I can from and instill as much of myself as I can into the remaining minutes. I remember talking to a mentor of mine about how I was noticing how annoyed my friend was making me and that I knew our friends are our mirrors, so I must be annoyed with myself and then I was more annoyed for being annoyed and annoying and I don't see how I wasn't annoying her, but she just looked at me and smiled beatifically and said, "Wow, look at all the awareness you have." I just sat in silent amazement and then nodded in agreement. I am so dang aware. I do notice every little thing I do "wrong".
I recently decided to start noticing things I do "right". I love my kids well. I make a nice quiche. I can sing pretty competently. I've composed quite a few cool pieces of music. I love to write a good story, and people tell me they enjoy them. I make a mean bowl. I have all sorts of great ideas about how to improve the world and our lives...
I feel better and more successful already.
I am going to imagine drinking a tequila sunrise in my hammock in the shade next to the ocean, now...
Yours,
D
P.S. If you care to join me, drinks are on the house.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Blessed are the Needy
For they shall never be filled.
I don't know why I started noticing how needy I can be, but once I did, it seemed like everything I did was to satisfy some need. I need attention, I prefer the good kind, like affirmations, praise, and adoration, so get on facebook. I am the last one to comment, text or say, "goodbye" in almost every conversation.
A friend started it when I had to have the sixth farewell hug after a quick visit. "Why are you so needy, man?" he blurted like Kramer on dark chocolate m&m's. I was stunned, but laughed and shrugged and then noticed how much I crave reassurance. I was actually injured when a new friend was coming in for a pretend hug which I thought was real, and then, after he backed off, I was like, "Oh, I was looking forward to that." When he returned with an exuberant bear-type hug, his shoulder hit my windpipe, and that sucker hurt for two weeks! Why did I have to have the actual hug? Needy.
I blame it on my parents. and siblings. and other mean relatives. They ignored, abused and neglected me. (Well, most of 'em did. I do have two nice sisters, and other cool relatives I love and like a lot.) No wonder I have issues. But, as some moderately famous person said, "So what if you're mother locked you in the closet when you were six? What are you going to do about it now?" Not too empathetic, but true. I can blame them all I like, but what good will it do? It's up to me to undo the mess we made.
I get to realize I'm an insecure son of a couple of insecure parents and, one would hope, at some point, challenge my insecurities with the facts about my existence. I'm a magnificent child of god. And "If God had children, wouldn't they be little Gods?" I might add, "what else would they be, fish?" Now, all I'm saying is most people say god made us in his image, so...
The trouble must lie with my thinking I'm not wonderful. I was taught that I was not, but my teachers were wrong. I really don't blame them, any more, cuz I know they couldn't teach what they did not know. Thank Universe for folks who know we're all connected to the power that runs this macrocosm, cuz it runs us. It is us. The body of Christ... whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me... I don't see that just as a warning, but, also as an affirmation that we are one with god. I tell everyone who'll listen that we're just God dreaming he's six-billion different people. We each do act like the universe revolves around us, kinda like the supremest being would. So, I guess if we remember who we are, we won't feel separated from our source, which is the cause of our insecurities in the first place. Our father is the king, kids, we're royalty!
Well, it's tiring trying to get all you other God to see things my way. I need a nap. Bless me.
Yours,
D
P.S. Wake me when the feast commences.
I don't know why I started noticing how needy I can be, but once I did, it seemed like everything I did was to satisfy some need. I need attention, I prefer the good kind, like affirmations, praise, and adoration, so get on facebook. I am the last one to comment, text or say, "goodbye" in almost every conversation.
A friend started it when I had to have the sixth farewell hug after a quick visit. "Why are you so needy, man?" he blurted like Kramer on dark chocolate m&m's. I was stunned, but laughed and shrugged and then noticed how much I crave reassurance. I was actually injured when a new friend was coming in for a pretend hug which I thought was real, and then, after he backed off, I was like, "Oh, I was looking forward to that." When he returned with an exuberant bear-type hug, his shoulder hit my windpipe, and that sucker hurt for two weeks! Why did I have to have the actual hug? Needy.
I blame it on my parents. and siblings. and other mean relatives. They ignored, abused and neglected me. (Well, most of 'em did. I do have two nice sisters, and other cool relatives I love and like a lot.) No wonder I have issues. But, as some moderately famous person said, "So what if you're mother locked you in the closet when you were six? What are you going to do about it now?" Not too empathetic, but true. I can blame them all I like, but what good will it do? It's up to me to undo the mess we made.
I get to realize I'm an insecure son of a couple of insecure parents and, one would hope, at some point, challenge my insecurities with the facts about my existence. I'm a magnificent child of god. And "If God had children, wouldn't they be little Gods?" I might add, "what else would they be, fish?" Now, all I'm saying is most people say god made us in his image, so...
The trouble must lie with my thinking I'm not wonderful. I was taught that I was not, but my teachers were wrong. I really don't blame them, any more, cuz I know they couldn't teach what they did not know. Thank Universe for folks who know we're all connected to the power that runs this macrocosm, cuz it runs us. It is us. The body of Christ... whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me... I don't see that just as a warning, but, also as an affirmation that we are one with god. I tell everyone who'll listen that we're just God dreaming he's six-billion different people. We each do act like the universe revolves around us, kinda like the supremest being would. So, I guess if we remember who we are, we won't feel separated from our source, which is the cause of our insecurities in the first place. Our father is the king, kids, we're royalty!
Well, it's tiring trying to get all you other God to see things my way. I need a nap. Bless me.
Yours,
D
P.S. Wake me when the feast commences.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Thank You for the Anger, Too.
I mentioned in my last blog that, in my family, I was not allowed to be angry. My job was to shut up and take it. I could entertain with humor or song, but complaining about any abuse visited on me by my elder siblings (my god, there were five of them) was forbidden.
It's kind of frustrating when you have feelings you're not allowed to have. And, who doesn't have anger? I sure did, but completely covered by a cloak of denial. And I had a pile of guilt to go with the prohibited, yet obviously present emotion. It took about thirty-some years before I could even admit to myself that I even had anger, let alone a problem. I think ranting at my father for a good half-hour at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary let me see how bitter and resentful I was. Thankfully, I went to therapy, and was told that I had every right to be angry about things, it was my outrageous response that let people think I was crazy.
Now I know that I am normal, just lacking in the tools to help me deal with my rampant sensitivity. I remember talking to a counselor about changing my life. He suggested I live alone for a while, since I haven't done so since the three-month stint in my early twenties. I expressed that my kids like to hang out a lot and sometimes stay over, and if I was in a small place that wouldn't be possible. "And?" he asked.
"And I'd have guilt," I reasoned.
"And?" he asked again.
Oh, yeah, it's OK to have feelings (and what choice do I have? [more on that later]), and it's a good idea to learn to deal with them in a mature manner. And while guilt may be unpleasant, it won't kill me.
I've also learned to stop obsessing about things I'm angry, worried, or fantasizing about. I just found I could think about whatever I want. If I don't want to be angry with my sister for bothering my daughters with her incessant invitations to her "holy, holy, holy" church, I remember that she needs to control things and it's not personal, and, then, I think about something else, like, say, a recent party with my good friends or a future trip to San Diego, and, voila, I'm not angry, obsessing, or contemplating murder. And, in general, when I find myself experiencing distasteful emotions, I let myself feel them, and then ponder why I'm feeling that way. Usually, I figure it out fairly quickly. Perhaps, I was worried that I won't get a good job when my workplace closes, or whatever. But, once I'm aware of my state of mind, it's short work to right my thinking by remembering I'm connected to the power that runs this whole show, and, I can, therefore, relax.
I've read that if you still have anger, you still have things to learn. I don't think he means you can't have it, but that it doesn't serve anyone to act irrationally due to it. Well, we must have been given anger for a reason. Maybe, it's to spur us to change. If we reform our responses to the little things that happen everyday to detour us from our original objectives and the people who seem to be hindering us, and we might find that our whole attitude toward life changes, as well.
It's nice to know I'm allowed to have anger (whew, it was getting hot in here), and I can use it to renovate my life, instead of having it transform me into a raving lunatic. Aah.
Yours,
D
P.S. And I also found when I don't respond angrily, people don't respond back angrily, either.
P.P.S. Usually.
P.P.P.S. And if they do?
It's kind of frustrating when you have feelings you're not allowed to have. And, who doesn't have anger? I sure did, but completely covered by a cloak of denial. And I had a pile of guilt to go with the prohibited, yet obviously present emotion. It took about thirty-some years before I could even admit to myself that I even had anger, let alone a problem. I think ranting at my father for a good half-hour at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary let me see how bitter and resentful I was. Thankfully, I went to therapy, and was told that I had every right to be angry about things, it was my outrageous response that let people think I was crazy.
Now I know that I am normal, just lacking in the tools to help me deal with my rampant sensitivity. I remember talking to a counselor about changing my life. He suggested I live alone for a while, since I haven't done so since the three-month stint in my early twenties. I expressed that my kids like to hang out a lot and sometimes stay over, and if I was in a small place that wouldn't be possible. "And?" he asked.
"And I'd have guilt," I reasoned.
"And?" he asked again.
Oh, yeah, it's OK to have feelings (and what choice do I have? [more on that later]), and it's a good idea to learn to deal with them in a mature manner. And while guilt may be unpleasant, it won't kill me.
I've also learned to stop obsessing about things I'm angry, worried, or fantasizing about. I just found I could think about whatever I want. If I don't want to be angry with my sister for bothering my daughters with her incessant invitations to her "holy, holy, holy" church, I remember that she needs to control things and it's not personal, and, then, I think about something else, like, say, a recent party with my good friends or a future trip to San Diego, and, voila, I'm not angry, obsessing, or contemplating murder. And, in general, when I find myself experiencing distasteful emotions, I let myself feel them, and then ponder why I'm feeling that way. Usually, I figure it out fairly quickly. Perhaps, I was worried that I won't get a good job when my workplace closes, or whatever. But, once I'm aware of my state of mind, it's short work to right my thinking by remembering I'm connected to the power that runs this whole show, and, I can, therefore, relax.
I've read that if you still have anger, you still have things to learn. I don't think he means you can't have it, but that it doesn't serve anyone to act irrationally due to it. Well, we must have been given anger for a reason. Maybe, it's to spur us to change. If we reform our responses to the little things that happen everyday to detour us from our original objectives and the people who seem to be hindering us, and we might find that our whole attitude toward life changes, as well.
It's nice to know I'm allowed to have anger (whew, it was getting hot in here), and I can use it to renovate my life, instead of having it transform me into a raving lunatic. Aah.
Yours,
D
P.S. And I also found when I don't respond angrily, people don't respond back angrily, either.
P.P.S. Usually.
P.P.P.S. And if they do?
Monday, October 19, 2009
Thank You for the Anger
Really. Cuz, now I see what it looks like when I do it. Let's just say, if I'd been looking in the mirror the first time I exploded (good thing I can regenerate myself), it never would have happened again.
But, like Louise Hay says, "We were good children, we learned just what our parents taught us."
Imagine my shock one day, this would be a couple years back, I guess, a little while after I had decided to get therapy for my anger problem, when cleaning out my backpack, I found an article called, "Are You Angry?" Now, previously, I would have gotten all defensive with the paper that appeared from nowhere, as if the Universe was trying to tell me something. "Who you callin' 'angry', slim?" (It's funny. One day, about six or seven years ago, my wife came into the bedroom to inform me that, "God wanted her to tell me he couldn't use me until I dealt with my anger." I wouldn't talk to God for weeks after that. Why couldn't he tell me himself, why did he have to send the person in life I [how do I put this delicately?] despised most in the world at the time? I guess I learned to laugh at myself, and realized he had been trying to tell me, I just blah blah blah blah.) So, this time, I decided to read the pages and take them to heart. Shit, it nailed me to the wall.
It said people learn to use anger from their family members. Hmm. If Mom and Dad have constant contention and utilize epithets, etc, the children learn these coping skills. It also detailed that we often feel a sense of power when we're angry. And that we have an excuse for our anger, "They don't listen," or "I keep telling them," like we are entitled to our anger, because of someone else's continued "wrong behavior". Another thing it mentioned was that an angry reaction is counterproductive for more than one reason. It not only stops creative thinking needed for problem solving, but causes more dissension between parties involved, exacerbating the issue. Now, when I read my profile on that parchment, I was glad to see there was a resolution. (Do we all know the calming techniques, by now, of counting to ten, taking deep breaths, removing ourselves from the situation, or should I list them?) I think just having the awareness helped me see my pattern when my daughter called needing emergency baby-sitting while I was on my way to sing in a concert. She always does this! Why can't she get her shit together? myaa myaa myaa. Then, I sez to myself, Oh, I'm getting angry instead of trying to find someone to watch the baby. So, I went to relax, and meditate on a solution, and before I was even fully reclined, the person to call popped into my head. Nice.
Now, it seems like I'm trying to say there's a magic pill, and that's what if felt like to me. I was like, so I never had to be angry? (I mean, I was angry all the time. Every detour from what I thought must be God's plan, cuz it popped into my enlightened brain, caused me weeks of anger. Or every "wrongdoing" of another... and there are lots of others. Whew.) And may I share a recent realization? When other people try to incite my ire, it's because they're incensed about something in their own hot little head, and want to focus it on me (Thank you so much, angry t-shirt lady, for the lovely bouquet of your bile! It made me see how badly I must reek at times). And, it's tricky, cuz who wouldn't feel justified in being livid that someone was deliberately trying to provoke him? Wud I do?
And who started it anyway? I remember telling my mom it was like everyone was going around stomping on each other's toes for every minor infraction, and she said, "Well, some people need their toes stomped on." But when will the stomping end? Can't we all just be adults now and see that no one can live without inadvertently offending someone else? I love the following quote: It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood. ~Karl Popper, Unended Quest. So, wadaya say we all start trying to understand each other instead of trying to destroy all the misunderstood. There're so many. Aren't you exhausted? Let's all join hands (cuz to do that one must put down one's weapon) and return to the time before the conflict, lest the angry guys with the big guns decide the outcome for us all.
Well, I feel better!
Yours,
D
P.S. Peace has to start somewhere, right?
P.P.S. Now, think of a good joke, and laugh... it's all a ride!!! Enjoy it while you can. I know one: Two guys walk into a bar and fall down, the third guys sees it and ducks.
But, like Louise Hay says, "We were good children, we learned just what our parents taught us."
Imagine my shock one day, this would be a couple years back, I guess, a little while after I had decided to get therapy for my anger problem, when cleaning out my backpack, I found an article called, "Are You Angry?" Now, previously, I would have gotten all defensive with the paper that appeared from nowhere, as if the Universe was trying to tell me something. "Who you callin' 'angry', slim?" (It's funny. One day, about six or seven years ago, my wife came into the bedroom to inform me that, "God wanted her to tell me he couldn't use me until I dealt with my anger." I wouldn't talk to God for weeks after that. Why couldn't he tell me himself, why did he have to send the person in life I [how do I put this delicately?] despised most in the world at the time? I guess I learned to laugh at myself, and realized he had been trying to tell me, I just blah blah blah blah.) So, this time, I decided to read the pages and take them to heart. Shit, it nailed me to the wall.
It said people learn to use anger from their family members. Hmm. If Mom and Dad have constant contention and utilize epithets, etc, the children learn these coping skills. It also detailed that we often feel a sense of power when we're angry. And that we have an excuse for our anger, "They don't listen," or "I keep telling them," like we are entitled to our anger, because of someone else's continued "wrong behavior". Another thing it mentioned was that an angry reaction is counterproductive for more than one reason. It not only stops creative thinking needed for problem solving, but causes more dissension between parties involved, exacerbating the issue. Now, when I read my profile on that parchment, I was glad to see there was a resolution. (Do we all know the calming techniques, by now, of counting to ten, taking deep breaths, removing ourselves from the situation, or should I list them?) I think just having the awareness helped me see my pattern when my daughter called needing emergency baby-sitting while I was on my way to sing in a concert. She always does this! Why can't she get her shit together? myaa myaa myaa. Then, I sez to myself, Oh, I'm getting angry instead of trying to find someone to watch the baby. So, I went to relax, and meditate on a solution, and before I was even fully reclined, the person to call popped into my head. Nice.
Now, it seems like I'm trying to say there's a magic pill, and that's what if felt like to me. I was like, so I never had to be angry? (I mean, I was angry all the time. Every detour from what I thought must be God's plan, cuz it popped into my enlightened brain, caused me weeks of anger. Or every "wrongdoing" of another... and there are lots of others. Whew.) And may I share a recent realization? When other people try to incite my ire, it's because they're incensed about something in their own hot little head, and want to focus it on me (Thank you so much, angry t-shirt lady, for the lovely bouquet of your bile! It made me see how badly I must reek at times). And, it's tricky, cuz who wouldn't feel justified in being livid that someone was deliberately trying to provoke him? Wud I do?
And who started it anyway? I remember telling my mom it was like everyone was going around stomping on each other's toes for every minor infraction, and she said, "Well, some people need their toes stomped on." But when will the stomping end? Can't we all just be adults now and see that no one can live without inadvertently offending someone else? I love the following quote: It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood. ~Karl Popper, Unended Quest. So, wadaya say we all start trying to understand each other instead of trying to destroy all the misunderstood. There're so many. Aren't you exhausted? Let's all join hands (cuz to do that one must put down one's weapon) and return to the time before the conflict, lest the angry guys with the big guns decide the outcome for us all.
Well, I feel better!
Yours,
D
P.S. Peace has to start somewhere, right?
P.P.S. Now, think of a good joke, and laugh... it's all a ride!!! Enjoy it while you can. I know one: Two guys walk into a bar and fall down, the third guys sees it and ducks.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Simple Things
The holiest of all holy sisters a person could have once told me that the way you spot a christian is to look at their "fruit". Not their melons or apples, folks, please. This is serious irony, here. She was talking about people they'd brought into the church as functioning members. I guess they had to be tithing and preaching and having little fruits like themselves, to count. Now, if you caught holy sister on a good day, she would be telling you this as if you were only mildly mentally challenged, no offense to anyone with any different ability than I, but it's no exaggeration. On a bad day...
I guess my point is, she wasted no time on such niceties as common courtesy or respect for other people's opinions or feelings. (Well, she does treat her pastor nicely, always. Hmm. I wonder if there's a reason for that.) I tried to explain to her, once, that it was not her religion that bothered me, but her manner of delivery. Officious and imperious best describe her modus operandi.
There's a well-known passage in the book they like to quote that says the fruit of the spirit (with which they claim to be filled) is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Why isn't this being taught from the pulpit? Maybe cuz no one taught them.
So, I guess we have to do it. I taught myself how to grow love, joy, and peace. I'm learning patience. I can be kind, good, faithful, gentle and have learned to control myself, more than ever. Whoop-di-fricki-do fer me. But what's good for me is good for you. Well, I think I'm more pleasant to be around than when I was all uptight and angry about those sinners in and out of the church who could transgress with impunity while I was stuck "living the good life."
And I'd still be angry, too, if I thought I had to go to a particular church to be "saved". Fortunately for us, I did get saved, I got saved from religion. I got saved from thinking I needed to be saved.
Now, I can see the love, joy, peace, patience, etc. that is in me, and even show it to the people who don't care to show it to me. Yeah, it's that good and that simple.
I read an anecdote about Bill Murray, and apparently the guy's a real asshole. As the story goes, someone ventured to tell him he'd get more flies with honey, to which Bill replied, and I paraphrase, "What do I want with flies?"
Now, I like Bill as an actor, but I picked up on the asshole bit, too, so I don't know if I'd invite him over when Ma was in town for the holidays, or anyone else I like. But if I was Bill's good friend and he came to me drunk one Saturday morning, slobbering and seeping snot from his recent sob-session, and asked, "D, why doesn't anyone like me?" I'd tell him, "Bill, flies are people, and this is a bad analogy, cuz you need people and who likes being compared to a fly?" (It made more sense in my head, but you get my drift.) We need other people, so we're nice to them.
Isn't it simple irony that they preach the good news of jesus and his salvation with a sharp tongue and a machine gun? Wait there's more. Cuz they're afraid to die. It get's better. And they're not afraid to send their enemies to Hell. Well, Hosanna in the Highest.
Someone tell Alanis Morisette that that is ironic, my friend.
Yours,
D
P.S. No, it's funny, not sad, cuz it's all a game, anyway, and we'll all be lauging in the end, cuz we all win.
I guess my point is, she wasted no time on such niceties as common courtesy or respect for other people's opinions or feelings. (Well, she does treat her pastor nicely, always. Hmm. I wonder if there's a reason for that.) I tried to explain to her, once, that it was not her religion that bothered me, but her manner of delivery. Officious and imperious best describe her modus operandi.
There's a well-known passage in the book they like to quote that says the fruit of the spirit (with which they claim to be filled) is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Why isn't this being taught from the pulpit? Maybe cuz no one taught them.
So, I guess we have to do it. I taught myself how to grow love, joy, and peace. I'm learning patience. I can be kind, good, faithful, gentle and have learned to control myself, more than ever. Whoop-di-fricki-do fer me. But what's good for me is good for you. Well, I think I'm more pleasant to be around than when I was all uptight and angry about those sinners in and out of the church who could transgress with impunity while I was stuck "living the good life."
And I'd still be angry, too, if I thought I had to go to a particular church to be "saved". Fortunately for us, I did get saved, I got saved from religion. I got saved from thinking I needed to be saved.
Now, I can see the love, joy, peace, patience, etc. that is in me, and even show it to the people who don't care to show it to me. Yeah, it's that good and that simple.
I read an anecdote about Bill Murray, and apparently the guy's a real asshole. As the story goes, someone ventured to tell him he'd get more flies with honey, to which Bill replied, and I paraphrase, "What do I want with flies?"
Now, I like Bill as an actor, but I picked up on the asshole bit, too, so I don't know if I'd invite him over when Ma was in town for the holidays, or anyone else I like. But if I was Bill's good friend and he came to me drunk one Saturday morning, slobbering and seeping snot from his recent sob-session, and asked, "D, why doesn't anyone like me?" I'd tell him, "Bill, flies are people, and this is a bad analogy, cuz you need people and who likes being compared to a fly?" (It made more sense in my head, but you get my drift.) We need other people, so we're nice to them.
Isn't it simple irony that they preach the good news of jesus and his salvation with a sharp tongue and a machine gun? Wait there's more. Cuz they're afraid to die. It get's better. And they're not afraid to send their enemies to Hell. Well, Hosanna in the Highest.
Someone tell Alanis Morisette that that is ironic, my friend.
Yours,
D
P.S. No, it's funny, not sad, cuz it's all a game, anyway, and we'll all be lauging in the end, cuz we all win.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
You won't believe this...
but I went to this one church and the pastor was a big hypocrite. No, I'm serious.
Check this out:
Week one, he rants about how he got a ticket, cuz some crazy lady cut him off and then slammed on her brakes, causing him to hit her, and how angry that got him...
Week two, he boasts about how he likes to go the same speed as the car next to him when he sees someone in an obvious hurry coming up behind him, so they can't get through...
Week three, he preaches about god's unconditional love for us and how we are to have that for all god's children...
Week four, he announces that if his son got a tattoo he would kick him out of the house...
Week five, he fondly recalls how he got the teacher fired who was having his daughter read "Flowers for Algernon", because the main character masturbates in it...
Week six, he masturbates on stage... Not really, but I got your attention, didn't I?
Ok, I let this man's hypocrisy be my excuse for leaving his church, when, really, it was just cuz their "perfect" praise music made me want to puke (even on the Sunday when the music leader had to sub for a singer and didn't know the song and fudged it all up, so I laughed to myself at their failed "perfection")...
So, my "first" attempt, after coming out of the church of darkness, to find a "Christian" church that followed "the Christ" and embraced all humans left me wondering why all pastors were know-it-all pricks, spouting self-congratulatory seminal fluid, and why the congregations were swallowing it whole, while I was busy spewing.
Well, I'm glad I've finally realized that everyone is a duplicitous dick at times, even me. What? But I am the seeker of all things true, righteous and holy. And a giant hypocrite.
Wow, that felt good. Now, I hope you'll have the courage to admit it to yourself, too, because if you're animate, you can be a contradictory son of a woman from time to time.
Like me.
So, I guess I'll get off your case.
Yours,
D
P.S. Well, at least there's justice; I heard that pastor got fired for some vague reason or other.
P.P.S. Ooo. Makes me want to stop being sanctimonious.... naw!
Check this out:
Week one, he rants about how he got a ticket, cuz some crazy lady cut him off and then slammed on her brakes, causing him to hit her, and how angry that got him...
Week two, he boasts about how he likes to go the same speed as the car next to him when he sees someone in an obvious hurry coming up behind him, so they can't get through...
Week three, he preaches about god's unconditional love for us and how we are to have that for all god's children...
Week four, he announces that if his son got a tattoo he would kick him out of the house...
Week five, he fondly recalls how he got the teacher fired who was having his daughter read "Flowers for Algernon", because the main character masturbates in it...
Week six, he masturbates on stage... Not really, but I got your attention, didn't I?
Ok, I let this man's hypocrisy be my excuse for leaving his church, when, really, it was just cuz their "perfect" praise music made me want to puke (even on the Sunday when the music leader had to sub for a singer and didn't know the song and fudged it all up, so I laughed to myself at their failed "perfection")...
So, my "first" attempt, after coming out of the church of darkness, to find a "Christian" church that followed "the Christ" and embraced all humans left me wondering why all pastors were know-it-all pricks, spouting self-congratulatory seminal fluid, and why the congregations were swallowing it whole, while I was busy spewing.
Well, I'm glad I've finally realized that everyone is a duplicitous dick at times, even me. What? But I am the seeker of all things true, righteous and holy. And a giant hypocrite.
Wow, that felt good. Now, I hope you'll have the courage to admit it to yourself, too, because if you're animate, you can be a contradictory son of a woman from time to time.
Like me.
So, I guess I'll get off your case.
Yours,
D
P.S. Well, at least there's justice; I heard that pastor got fired for some vague reason or other.
P.P.S. Ooo. Makes me want to stop being sanctimonious.... naw!
Monday, October 12, 2009
2 b hapi b hapi
Short version...
Let's say you have an issue about which you are angry. You have exhausted all fantasies of revenge for various reasons of conscience and legality and are, therefore, left with becoming a hermit or jumping from a bridge (or some other tenable form of self-destruction) but feel these choices are a bit extreme. Well, other folks seem to survive lesser hardships of mind and body.
And, you've heard that no one makes you angry, so you logically deduce that if you make yourself angry (I do it less now that I can admit it to myself) you can make yourself happy. So, call it joy, serenity, peace of mind, ecstasy, transcendence, or whatever you desire, but focus on it. Perhaps you'll want to sit up straight and take a deep breath at this point. Then just imagine the last time you felt joy, and if, god forbid, you can't recall a specific situation wherein you experienced the elected emotion, imagine what it would feel like.
Next thing you know, you're thinking pleasant thoughts and the heat of anger leaves your frontal lobe and tranquility prevails. Good job. You're probably pretty pleased and maybe a smidge surprised that it was so simple. I know I was surprised to find I could do this anytime, anywhere and, in fact, had been the one governing my state of mind all along.
Oops. You mean, I've spent a lot of time being unnecessarily angry? Good thing it's just a ride. Now, I can enjoy the rest of it. I hope you join me in my enjoyment.
Yours,
D
P.S. Besides, we're both way more fun to be around when we're happy. It's win-win.
Let's say you have an issue about which you are angry. You have exhausted all fantasies of revenge for various reasons of conscience and legality and are, therefore, left with becoming a hermit or jumping from a bridge (or some other tenable form of self-destruction) but feel these choices are a bit extreme. Well, other folks seem to survive lesser hardships of mind and body.
And, you've heard that no one makes you angry, so you logically deduce that if you make yourself angry (I do it less now that I can admit it to myself) you can make yourself happy. So, call it joy, serenity, peace of mind, ecstasy, transcendence, or whatever you desire, but focus on it. Perhaps you'll want to sit up straight and take a deep breath at this point. Then just imagine the last time you felt joy, and if, god forbid, you can't recall a specific situation wherein you experienced the elected emotion, imagine what it would feel like.
Next thing you know, you're thinking pleasant thoughts and the heat of anger leaves your frontal lobe and tranquility prevails. Good job. You're probably pretty pleased and maybe a smidge surprised that it was so simple. I know I was surprised to find I could do this anytime, anywhere and, in fact, had been the one governing my state of mind all along.
Oops. You mean, I've spent a lot of time being unnecessarily angry? Good thing it's just a ride. Now, I can enjoy the rest of it. I hope you join me in my enjoyment.
Yours,
D
P.S. Besides, we're both way more fun to be around when we're happy. It's win-win.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Our Greatest "Sin"
I used to attend a church that kept its followers in line by constantly preaching and promoting a fear of hell. And they had a long list of things sure to send you there, including movies, tv, and drinking, smoking, cussing, and, of course, fornicating. We were kept busy repenting every second, or tithing, praying, preaching, and, of course, proselytizing. The focus was on purity. We had to prove that we were grateful to have been saved by/from an angry vengeful supreme being who wanted our whole heart, mind, soul and body and would surely destroy us if we failed in our attempt to surrender sufficiently. We "kept our hearts right with god" (a phrase which is missing from my bible, hmm.), and had little time for outsiders (sinners) but to tell them to "get their hearts right" or burn in hell. Cuz god loves you so much he died for for your sins, but will send you to hell in a heartbeat, if you don't believe and repent correctly (and stay repented, dang it!).
I knew in my heart that if a god forgave me for all my sins, I must be forgiven completely. It says in that book that Jesus died for us once and for all (in the letter to the Hebrews). Hmm. That's pretty all-encompassing. Sounds like my only job is to believe, and I do, or I did.
Now I know that I never needed to be forgiven. In god's eyes, I was, am, perfect. An Episcopal priest explained it by comparing us to apples. We start off as a perfect bud, and grow, albeit, immature for a time, into a perfect apple. Our whole problem is that we think there's a problem. In our own minds we wonder how a god could love us with all our "faults" and spend little time wondering how he can see our beauty and talent and glory. But if I think of how I look at my own children, I can comprehend how a god can have unconditional love. I just understand and empathize with them and, thusly, they can do no wrong. They're amazing and awe-inspiring and pure in my eyes. And the god of the Universe is purportedly able to do all things, so I assume he can love me at least as ineffably.
I remember reading in the book about Peter having a vision wherein Jesus let a sheet down from Heaven containing every kind of animal on the earth and told him, "Arise, Peter, kill and eat." And when Peter saw there were "unclean" animals, he told God, "No, sir, I will not eat anything unclean or common." (Peter was a Jew and had a list of things he couldn't eat. I know, crazy, huh?) And the Lord said to him, "Don't call what I have cleansed common." And this happened three times before, I guess, the Master of the Universe got tired of telling him the same thing over and over and took the sheet back up into Heaven, leaving Peter and billions of other conscientious people to misinterpret his words. Peter couldn't understand that God was telling him every human is clean. None of us is common. Never were. The problem was only in our minds.
I love this quote which Nelson Mandela used in his 1994 inauguration speech: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Marianne Williamson from her book, A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles.
This solidified the thoughts I'd been having for years which had led me out of a controlling, condemning, contumacious church. What if our greatest sin is that we keep telling ourselves how horrible we are, instead of looking for the beauty and talent and image of God in ourselves? Just think what a heavenly place this world would be, if we all knew how marvelous we were, indeed, are.
Yours,
D
P.S. So, now you're free to be your wonderful self. Ain't it grand?
I knew in my heart that if a god forgave me for all my sins, I must be forgiven completely. It says in that book that Jesus died for us once and for all (in the letter to the Hebrews). Hmm. That's pretty all-encompassing. Sounds like my only job is to believe, and I do, or I did.
Now I know that I never needed to be forgiven. In god's eyes, I was, am, perfect. An Episcopal priest explained it by comparing us to apples. We start off as a perfect bud, and grow, albeit, immature for a time, into a perfect apple. Our whole problem is that we think there's a problem. In our own minds we wonder how a god could love us with all our "faults" and spend little time wondering how he can see our beauty and talent and glory. But if I think of how I look at my own children, I can comprehend how a god can have unconditional love. I just understand and empathize with them and, thusly, they can do no wrong. They're amazing and awe-inspiring and pure in my eyes. And the god of the Universe is purportedly able to do all things, so I assume he can love me at least as ineffably.
I remember reading in the book about Peter having a vision wherein Jesus let a sheet down from Heaven containing every kind of animal on the earth and told him, "Arise, Peter, kill and eat." And when Peter saw there were "unclean" animals, he told God, "No, sir, I will not eat anything unclean or common." (Peter was a Jew and had a list of things he couldn't eat. I know, crazy, huh?) And the Lord said to him, "Don't call what I have cleansed common." And this happened three times before, I guess, the Master of the Universe got tired of telling him the same thing over and over and took the sheet back up into Heaven, leaving Peter and billions of other conscientious people to misinterpret his words. Peter couldn't understand that God was telling him every human is clean. None of us is common. Never were. The problem was only in our minds.
I love this quote which Nelson Mandela used in his 1994 inauguration speech: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Marianne Williamson from her book, A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles.
This solidified the thoughts I'd been having for years which had led me out of a controlling, condemning, contumacious church. What if our greatest sin is that we keep telling ourselves how horrible we are, instead of looking for the beauty and talent and image of God in ourselves? Just think what a heavenly place this world would be, if we all knew how marvelous we were, indeed, are.
Yours,
D
P.S. So, now you're free to be your wonderful self. Ain't it grand?
Friday, October 9, 2009
I do believe...
I read some things today that made me wonder how modern-day Christians can be so lacking in love. People hate the President and claim to be Christians. Now, I read that book and it says to love your enemy, and I suppose that even means your President.
Another quote I saw today said, "The truth sounds like hate to those who hate the truth (know the God of the Bible)." The problem is truth is relative. And if 17,697,384 people read the bible, they'll have 17,697,384 different opinions each (give or take a few hundred thousand). So, whose is right?
My son said to me the other day, "If two people look at a glass and one says it's half full and the other says it's half empty, they're both right." Well said. My mother, of course, the eternal optimist, said, "Well, but, half full is better." Unless it's full of sulphiric acid you must drink it... or could that be good, too?
It reminds me of the Chinese proverb which I'll paraphrase:
A farmer lived in a small village with only his son and his horse. One day the horse ran away, and all the neighbors came to him, saying how bad it was. "We will see if it's bad or good..." said the farmer. The next day the horse came back with another horse. The neighbors rushed to congratulate him on his good fortune. "We will see if it is bad or good..." the farmer said again. And the next day when his son broke his leg trying to break in the new horse, the neighbors came again, exclaiming on his bad luck. "We will see if it is bad or good..." said the farmer patiently. The next day the army came through town and collected all the eligible young men, but left the farmer's son, due to his broken leg. I bet you can guess what the farmer said.
We each have our own truth. No one has exactly the same perspective and that's a good thing. We can see all sides of an issue if we're willing to listen to someone else's viewpoint.
It is funny, tho, that people misquote the bible all the time to make it more strict, e.g., an old pastor of mine used to always explain, "The bible says, 'the rain falls on the just and the unjust,'" as a reason for why "bad" things happen to "good" (i.e., his good followers) people, but I think he misinterpreted it, and he certainly misquoted it. My bible says, "God gives rain to the just and the unjust," which says to me that "God" doesn't discriminate when he's giving out blessing, he gives them to those who believe, according to how they believe. Kind of leaves the judgments of one's neighbors out of the equation...
My sister was once edifying me with the knowledge that I couldn't go to Heaven because of certain sins I hadn't repented of... I told her I was glad it was God doing the judging and not "Christians". I'm perfectly content to let God do his job and maybe we could do our job, which is loving our brothers and sisters. And who are they? Well, aren't we all children of the same god, whoever she is...?
Yours,
D
P.S. Ooo, ooo, one more quote. Bumper sticker: "Who would Jesus bomb?"
Another quote I saw today said, "The truth sounds like hate to those who hate the truth (know the God of the Bible)." The problem is truth is relative. And if 17,697,384 people read the bible, they'll have 17,697,384 different opinions each (give or take a few hundred thousand). So, whose is right?
My son said to me the other day, "If two people look at a glass and one says it's half full and the other says it's half empty, they're both right." Well said. My mother, of course, the eternal optimist, said, "Well, but, half full is better." Unless it's full of sulphiric acid you must drink it... or could that be good, too?
It reminds me of the Chinese proverb which I'll paraphrase:
A farmer lived in a small village with only his son and his horse. One day the horse ran away, and all the neighbors came to him, saying how bad it was. "We will see if it's bad or good..." said the farmer. The next day the horse came back with another horse. The neighbors rushed to congratulate him on his good fortune. "We will see if it is bad or good..." the farmer said again. And the next day when his son broke his leg trying to break in the new horse, the neighbors came again, exclaiming on his bad luck. "We will see if it is bad or good..." said the farmer patiently. The next day the army came through town and collected all the eligible young men, but left the farmer's son, due to his broken leg. I bet you can guess what the farmer said.
We each have our own truth. No one has exactly the same perspective and that's a good thing. We can see all sides of an issue if we're willing to listen to someone else's viewpoint.
It is funny, tho, that people misquote the bible all the time to make it more strict, e.g., an old pastor of mine used to always explain, "The bible says, 'the rain falls on the just and the unjust,'" as a reason for why "bad" things happen to "good" (i.e., his good followers) people, but I think he misinterpreted it, and he certainly misquoted it. My bible says, "God gives rain to the just and the unjust," which says to me that "God" doesn't discriminate when he's giving out blessing, he gives them to those who believe, according to how they believe. Kind of leaves the judgments of one's neighbors out of the equation...
My sister was once edifying me with the knowledge that I couldn't go to Heaven because of certain sins I hadn't repented of... I told her I was glad it was God doing the judging and not "Christians". I'm perfectly content to let God do his job and maybe we could do our job, which is loving our brothers and sisters. And who are they? Well, aren't we all children of the same god, whoever she is...?
Yours,
D
P.S. Ooo, ooo, one more quote. Bumper sticker: "Who would Jesus bomb?"
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
You make me so...
I used to get sooo angry when people did things that didn't fit into my plans for an ideal world... i.e. everything. And so, I was always angry. I'd cover it up well, though. I'd smile and laugh with all my friends and go home and rant at my wife and spank the kids. They tell me I gave them all whippings once because no one would tell me who'd left the towel on the bathroom floor. Well, it's the principle. I'd always say if they'd just admit it, there wouldn't be a problem. But no one ever would. Hm. Wonder why.
Now, whenever I get angry, I wonder why. I step back and examine the situation objectively. I've read that I'm never upset about what I think I'm upset about, and it usually proves true, if I can face it. It's not always pretty. For example, I've realized that when my sister does something I find offensive, it's because I feel like I'm not in control. (Well, she does love to see how many licks it takes to get to the chewy center of my lollipop.) But if I remember who I am... a glorious child of the universe... I can let her play her games without its affecting me. I realize she feels small and wants to feel bigger than someone, so she focuses her attention on me. Needlesstosay, I choose not to be around that, so she does her machinations off camera, now.
People will always be doing things other than what we think is right and good and correct, so we can either be angry always, or learn to deal. Forgiveness goes a long way, and I've realized that I have to keep forgiving some people (most people) cuz they just keep doing things differently than I think they should, dangit! But if I focus on the person I can forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing. Or, they're doing the best they know how (don't we all?).
Yours,
D
P.S. And everyone knows, now, that no one makes anyone else angry, we do it all ourselves...right?
Now, whenever I get angry, I wonder why. I step back and examine the situation objectively. I've read that I'm never upset about what I think I'm upset about, and it usually proves true, if I can face it. It's not always pretty. For example, I've realized that when my sister does something I find offensive, it's because I feel like I'm not in control. (Well, she does love to see how many licks it takes to get to the chewy center of my lollipop.) But if I remember who I am... a glorious child of the universe... I can let her play her games without its affecting me. I realize she feels small and wants to feel bigger than someone, so she focuses her attention on me. Needlesstosay, I choose not to be around that, so she does her machinations off camera, now.
People will always be doing things other than what we think is right and good and correct, so we can either be angry always, or learn to deal. Forgiveness goes a long way, and I've realized that I have to keep forgiving some people (most people) cuz they just keep doing things differently than I think they should, dangit! But if I focus on the person I can forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing. Or, they're doing the best they know how (don't we all?).
Yours,
D
P.S. And everyone knows, now, that no one makes anyone else angry, we do it all ourselves...right?
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Shroud of Truth
I read an article today about the Shroud of Turin. Hm. Sounds like a topic sure to start a debate.
I saw a show a few years back on PBS, which had different folks trying to duplicate the relic with models and mirrors, and wax and sunlight, etc, etc. They all failed miserably, saying that didn't mean it was real. It just means, however it was made, there's only one, so far. Ironically, the final person on the show, whose attempt was closest to looking like the actual shroud, had injected himself with the magic things that glow when you pass them through an MRI machine and did then pass himself through such a device and produce an image that looked surprisingly like the one on the cloth in question, and, thus, concluded that the shroud had been made as it passed through the body of Jesus as he resurrected. Could be. And, now, we have a man who says he has made a copy of the shroud (not by resurrecting himself, as far as I know, but we'll find out monday).
Hey, I was just getting used to thinking there really was a Jesus and now I have to disbelieve it all over again? Thanks. But seriously, does it matter if the shroud is real, or if Jesus is real? Would anyone believe less if neither were real? Probably. But what in this life is really "real"? Shit, two years ago, a sizable, previously "real" chunk of value in my house disappeared as if it had never existed. And didn't it only exist in everyone's mind in the first place? Didn't we collectively imagine it was worth this much and, then, when it started to be worth less, we all nodded our heads knowingly and agreed, "That's better, prices needed to come down...?"
Hm. All I'm saying is, if it's imaginary, let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness and if it's "real", let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness until it's real to everyone and not worry about the authenticity of a shroud or whose God's rocket is bigger or if we and our neighbors believe the exact right things (good luck with that, anyway). Let's just imagine we all like each other and act accordingly. C'mon, it'll be fun.
Yours,
D
P.S. Well, it is a mystery, after all and, of course, no one really knows. I mean, no one's come back of late to tell us what it's like, so, it's pretty much anyone's guess, isn't it? (I know God spoke to you and told you you have it all figured out. Good for you and your pastor, but since the other six point something billion of us are all convinced we're right, too, maybe you'll be able to find a way to let yourself down easily, cuz) No one has any friggin idea (not even Minister McSure-of-himself, who's all of, what, 47?), so why don't we enjoy ourselves, whatever we believe and let others enjoy themselves, as well. We're in this together, aint' we? So, let's all play nice.
P.P.S. Guess what I'm imaging right now? (Not that, sicko.) We're all on a merry-go-round and I'm riding the purple horse with the golden saddle. Woo hoo!
I saw a show a few years back on PBS, which had different folks trying to duplicate the relic with models and mirrors, and wax and sunlight, etc, etc. They all failed miserably, saying that didn't mean it was real. It just means, however it was made, there's only one, so far. Ironically, the final person on the show, whose attempt was closest to looking like the actual shroud, had injected himself with the magic things that glow when you pass them through an MRI machine and did then pass himself through such a device and produce an image that looked surprisingly like the one on the cloth in question, and, thus, concluded that the shroud had been made as it passed through the body of Jesus as he resurrected. Could be. And, now, we have a man who says he has made a copy of the shroud (not by resurrecting himself, as far as I know, but we'll find out monday).
Hey, I was just getting used to thinking there really was a Jesus and now I have to disbelieve it all over again? Thanks. But seriously, does it matter if the shroud is real, or if Jesus is real? Would anyone believe less if neither were real? Probably. But what in this life is really "real"? Shit, two years ago, a sizable, previously "real" chunk of value in my house disappeared as if it had never existed. And didn't it only exist in everyone's mind in the first place? Didn't we collectively imagine it was worth this much and, then, when it started to be worth less, we all nodded our heads knowingly and agreed, "That's better, prices needed to come down...?"
Hm. All I'm saying is, if it's imaginary, let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness and if it's "real", let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness until it's real to everyone and not worry about the authenticity of a shroud or whose God's rocket is bigger or if we and our neighbors believe the exact right things (good luck with that, anyway). Let's just imagine we all like each other and act accordingly. C'mon, it'll be fun.
Yours,
D
P.S. Well, it is a mystery, after all and, of course, no one really knows. I mean, no one's come back of late to tell us what it's like, so, it's pretty much anyone's guess, isn't it? (I know God spoke to you and told you you have it all figured out. Good for you and your pastor, but since the other six point something billion of us are all convinced we're right, too, maybe you'll be able to find a way to let yourself down easily, cuz) No one has any friggin idea (not even Minister McSure-of-himself, who's all of, what, 47?), so why don't we enjoy ourselves, whatever we believe and let others enjoy themselves, as well. We're in this together, aint' we? So, let's all play nice.
P.P.S. Guess what I'm imaging right now? (Not that, sicko.) We're all on a merry-go-round and I'm riding the purple horse with the golden saddle. Woo hoo!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
How do I love myself?
Let me count the ways..., but seriously. I have asked myself that question. Do I give in to my desires and eat the last piece of cake, or withhold the pleasure and save it for tomorrow? Is it more loving to indulge or deny myself? There could be more cake tomorrow, or there could be no tomorrow at all, and I sure would've wished I'd eaten it. The point is, I've recently decided to go easy on myself, no matter what decision I make.
For instance, the other day, I was suddenly faced with whether to go back to kinko's for the card with the $8.92 on it, or get to my rehearsal on time. I chose to abandon the cash, and while I was still a minute late for practice, I made it before the music began, and felt it was worth the few bucks I'd sacrificed to save my stellar reputation as "Mr. Punctual." I am getting more consistent at not beating myself up for not having made the "right decision" every time, and also realizing that no matter what decision I make, it was a good decision, because I'll always be able to learn something. And I did learn that I'd rather be on time for a new group than have $9 in my pocket.... OK.
And that's the thing. I've realized I can treat myself with understanding and kindness and respect, even when, perhaps, later, I wish I had done the other thing... which frees me to ponder all my possibilities and not fear or disdain any outcome. I do love to ponder possibilites...
Yours,
D
P.S. There are, of course, infinite ways to love yourself, this is just one example. Right now, I'm gonna love myself with an oatmeal cookie (chocolate and butterscotch chip, no less) in case the world dissolves tomorrow in a giant glass of milk.
For instance, the other day, I was suddenly faced with whether to go back to kinko's for the card with the $8.92 on it, or get to my rehearsal on time. I chose to abandon the cash, and while I was still a minute late for practice, I made it before the music began, and felt it was worth the few bucks I'd sacrificed to save my stellar reputation as "Mr. Punctual." I am getting more consistent at not beating myself up for not having made the "right decision" every time, and also realizing that no matter what decision I make, it was a good decision, because I'll always be able to learn something. And I did learn that I'd rather be on time for a new group than have $9 in my pocket.... OK.
And that's the thing. I've realized I can treat myself with understanding and kindness and respect, even when, perhaps, later, I wish I had done the other thing... which frees me to ponder all my possibilities and not fear or disdain any outcome. I do love to ponder possibilites...
Yours,
D
P.S. There are, of course, infinite ways to love yourself, this is just one example. Right now, I'm gonna love myself with an oatmeal cookie (chocolate and butterscotch chip, no less) in case the world dissolves tomorrow in a giant glass of milk.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
If you're like me.
If you want to be happy, and have no challenges, ever, you must kill yourself. But if you're like me, you're too afraid, so you might want to find a more creative way of looking at life's little surprises.
I recently realized that what I must do to be happy is just be happy. Simple, yet so complex. Well, it's easy to think happy thoughts, anytime, and create a happy mood, unless your computer just died or your daughter locked her keys in her car for the sixth time in two months and you have to (well, you don't have to, you could let her learn her lesson and walk home) drive twenty-seven miles in rush-hour traffic to save her, or your sister writes you a nasty note about your apparent inability to wipe up crumbs completely, thereby causing her cat to eat them, and subsequently puke them up on her comforter. Oh, the anger, the frustration and guilt. How can anyone think happy thoughts in these heinous situations?
But if you realize it's all a dream, a ride, a game we all win, then you can sit back and wonder what good will come of cat puke, instead of dwelling on, say, the smell, or the shame of having evoked it and you can get on with imagining wonderful things for yourself, like health and harmony and hairball-free cats.
Yours,
D
P.S. Anyone can imagine a hairball-free cat, can't they? Next, a peaceful planet...
I recently realized that what I must do to be happy is just be happy. Simple, yet so complex. Well, it's easy to think happy thoughts, anytime, and create a happy mood, unless your computer just died or your daughter locked her keys in her car for the sixth time in two months and you have to (well, you don't have to, you could let her learn her lesson and walk home) drive twenty-seven miles in rush-hour traffic to save her, or your sister writes you a nasty note about your apparent inability to wipe up crumbs completely, thereby causing her cat to eat them, and subsequently puke them up on her comforter. Oh, the anger, the frustration and guilt. How can anyone think happy thoughts in these heinous situations?
But if you realize it's all a dream, a ride, a game we all win, then you can sit back and wonder what good will come of cat puke, instead of dwelling on, say, the smell, or the shame of having evoked it and you can get on with imagining wonderful things for yourself, like health and harmony and hairball-free cats.
Yours,
D
P.S. Anyone can imagine a hairball-free cat, can't they? Next, a peaceful planet...
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