Serenity

I like the Serenity prayer. In case you aren't familiar, here it is:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

It's very simple and profound.

Lately, I've been concentrating on being serene, and so, of course, much drama has been presenting itself, so I can see just how serene I am not. I will say, that I am more peaceful, less stressed than I think I would have been in the past. Before, I would worry myself sick, now I just get a little nauseous.

But seriously, I've learned to have peace by being peaceful, so when the drama appears I can label it as such and step around it, or enjoy the play. Well, admittedly, I am a dramatic person. I don't shy from the limelight. And I don't like to be bored. But, sometimes, it's enough already. I want to be alone.

I'm glad I learned to go to the still place in my heart when I feel the need for quietude. It may only take a second, but it often takes me a while in the worry or fear or anger or hurt before I remember I have the power of peace available to me, anytime. All I ever have to do is close my eyes, take a few deep breaths and, soon, I'm calm. Yeehaw! It's so nice, I wonder why I like to spend any time at all being agitated.

Perhaps it's an old habit I'm finding the courage to change. (more on that next time!)


Yours,

D


P.S. Yeah, it's that simple.

Blessed are the blessed

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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!