August 3, 2019 § 3 Comments
I’m glad I grew up when I did, when connectivity was restricted to a phone with a curly cord that hung in my family’s TV room–such a public space.
And so, in my one private place, my room, all I could do was yearn and dream and imagine. I spent hours inventing conversations with boys who in real life had said little to me and thought about me even less, putting words in their mouths as we fell for each other.
Those relationships, and even the boys themselves were products of my heated imagination.
Alone in my room I yearned, serially, for each of those boys, imagining hand-holding, slow dances. We could not communicate with each other in that sanctuary. I could only communicate with myself, thrilled as I imagined something I had yet to experience.
The phone was the connection between me and other yearning girls—again public–although I could stretch the cord into the laundry room and close the door on it creating the illusion of privacy, “Do you think he likes me?” But my parents knew right where I was and, come bedtime, made me hang up.
Once in a while the call was from an actual boy–which was awkward with a sister, brother, grandfather, and two parents on a nearby couch watching Ed Sullivan. The conversations were awkward too, never as fluent or romantic as those I had imagined.
July 27, 2019 § 3 Comments
The bad stuff, the scary stuff, resides in the remembered past or the imagined future. The moment we are in is safe, almost always. The take-away is, live in this moment.
Habit shapes a life. A sedimentary process, habit lays down layer after layer. Just as sedimentation creates rock, habit adds up to something solid and enduring.
A small change, over time, can alter the course of a life. It begins as a slight bump, that causes a nearly imperceptible change in direction, but over time the angle widens and life goes somewhere completely different, unplanned. The change may be unobserved until you look back, shade your eyes and see the pebble way back there in your past that caused that slight deviation—and here you are, miles from where you thought you were going.
The smallest part can stand in for the whole. One flower with one insect walking on one petal can embody the wonder of nature in its entirety.
Ego blinds. It causes a person to see everything through the lens of self. It is like that old joke: “But enough about me! Now tell me, what do you think about me?”
Ego is the primary tool in the kit of survival. It justifies snatching something for the self that would benefit whoever snatches it first.
Boredom is the source of all great ideas. A mind, when even slightly entertained, won’t bother to come up with something innovative. The mind is lazy and is just fine with idling and watching puppy videos.
There is a peaceful calm that comes with age as long as the din of an aching body doesn’t shout down that calm.
With one exception, we are, and will always remain, separate from each other. We come together—and then we walk away, each gathering our observations independently. Humanity is a long playing-out of the fable of the blind men and the elephant. Each of us puts a hand on a different part of the elephant and calls what we have touched reality.
May 7, 2019 § 5 Comments
What is real? Real is what you witness with your senses–then it is interpreted through your mind, your preferences, your past, and reality becomes personal.
How do these personal realities co-exist?
Let’s say we walk in tandem, briefly sharing the view. Side-by-side, we come as close as we ever do to seeing things in the same way, but even then, what we choose to notice will differ.
What we notice is based on a lifetime of noticing, a lifetime of learned preferences. Because of that filter, even when together we see different versions of the world, each of us perfecting our individual perception of what-is.
As we go along together we talk, trading an approximation, not of what-is, but of how we perceive what-is, a perception shaped by our individual experiences, our place in the world, our historical moment.
As the one who has gathered those experiences, those observations, we believe we know reality.
But when it comes to knowing reality, each of us is one of the blind men with a hand on a particular part of the elephant, each of us describing, based on what can be perceived through that limited touch, something too big for any single human being to comprehend.
We can become strident about it, insisting that what we have decided is true is the only valid way to describe the elephant. We can be humble and ask others to tell us what they have learned about the elephant. But ultimately, we come to our own conclusions and then forget the question entirely, assuming we know all we need to know about the elephant. « Read the rest of this entry »
January 15, 2019 § 4 Comments
At first, life is an all-you-can-eat buffet.
There’s plenty more in the kitchen!
But time and mortality begin to take
options off the table.
So far it is just friends and family members—
Ones who are older.
Older than we are anyway.
We watch them peruse a narrowed menu
and feel sorry for them.
But the day will come when
we too will have to choose off a limited menu,
one that won’t disagree with who time
and circumstance and our own
have made us. « Read the rest of this entry »
September 16, 2018 § 4 Comments
If you weren’t you wouldn’t be reading my blog post.
Everything is fine. Neither fight, nor flight needs to be called in. No action is required.
So, take a conscious breath…and let it out slowly.
But maybe you are only fleetingly in this moment, the words on your screen registering intermittently because much of your brain is occupied with scouting ahead, scanning the future for that gray speck you just know will be trouble when it gets here.
Your body, which has a hard time distinguishing between present and future danger, responds, not to the words you are reading, but to what you are imagining. Muscles tense, your heart gallops.
This mirrors the magical thinking that assured you, looking under your childhood bed was what turned monsters into shoes and dust balls.
Chances are, you had nothing to do with containing the perceived threat, which was probably not a threat at all, but just a blot on the horizon as random and transient as a cloud shadow.
August 3, 2018 § 4 Comments
God stood by the side of the road holding a cardboard sign. HUNGRY, it said.
He’d written the word with the marker he’d put in his own pocket by conceiving of one…Let There Be a Marker. How solid it had felt in his just-as-solid hand. In use, the marker had squeaked across the cardboard; the ink was running out.
The marker was the only dry thing by this twilit strip of asphalt. Rain was pelting down. God’s hair dripped, and the rain ran its cold fingers down his neck soaking his T-shirt.
The last time he had come here clothed in flesh it had been hot and dusty, but like this, it had been vibrant in a way omnipresence could never match. Omnipresence was existence spread thin.
Being everywhere and nowhere had a lot in common. « Read the rest of this entry »