"It takes a certain maturity of mind to accept that nature works as steadily in rust as in rose petals."
Esther Warner Dendel, writer and artist(1910-2002)
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Quote For The Day
“Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.”
Albert Einstein
Albert Einstein
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Veddy Interesting...
This just sent to me by a friend:
“This year, both Groundhog Day and the State of the Union address occur on the same day. And as it has been pointed out, “It is an ironic juxtaposition of events: One involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication, while the other involves a groundhog.”
Thanks go to the author and apologies to the little grounder.
“This year, both Groundhog Day and the State of the Union address occur on the same day. And as it has been pointed out, “It is an ironic juxtaposition of events: One involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication, while the other involves a groundhog.”
Thanks go to the author and apologies to the little grounder.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Quote For The Day
“Politeness is to human nature what warmth is to wax.”
Arthur Schopenhauer, philosopher (1788-1860)
Arthur Schopenhauer, philosopher (1788-1860)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
What's Left Is Right
by Florence Ondré
When the moment presents an opportunity to speak from your heart and say things that may be difficult, therein lies the release from words and feelings crowding; confusing and chaotic; crying for space to fly from you to unburden you.
This moment of hardness of the golden opportunity softens with your first uttering of your truth into the silver lining of challenging experiences.
As you set free from the cage of your being that which is aching and weighing, your spirit lightens and, no matter the outcome or response from others against your truth, no thing diminishes your act of courage; your standing in your own light.
The treasure which can then shine brightly is a fullness of you in cessation of shadow.
You speak directly from your heart in balance with your head and gut... and what is left is right.
When the moment presents an opportunity to speak from your heart and say things that may be difficult, therein lies the release from words and feelings crowding; confusing and chaotic; crying for space to fly from you to unburden you.
This moment of hardness of the golden opportunity softens with your first uttering of your truth into the silver lining of challenging experiences.
As you set free from the cage of your being that which is aching and weighing, your spirit lightens and, no matter the outcome or response from others against your truth, no thing diminishes your act of courage; your standing in your own light.
The treasure which can then shine brightly is a fullness of you in cessation of shadow.
You speak directly from your heart in balance with your head and gut... and what is left is right.
Quote For The Day
"We lie the loudest when we lie to ourselves."
Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)
Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Quote For The Day
"To freely bloom - that is my definition of success."
Gerry Spence, lawyer (1929- )
Gerry Spence, lawyer (1929- )
Monday, January 15, 2007
Quote For The Day
“Every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.”
James Russell Lowell, poet, editor, and diplomat (1819-1891)
James Russell Lowell, poet, editor, and diplomat (1819-1891)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Hot Water Reactions
This was sent to me by a friend. Thought I'd share.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil.
In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots.
She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.
The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, Mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting in the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Heere are some good questions to contemplate:
Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Thank you to this unknown author for the story and the questions.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil.
In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots.
She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.
The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, Mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting in the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Heere are some good questions to contemplate:
Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Thank you to this unknown author for the story and the questions.
Quote For The Day
"We are healed of a suffering only by expressing it to the full."
Marcel Proust, novelist (1871-1922)
Marcel Proust, novelist (1871-1922)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
The Gratitude Pool
by Florence Ondré
I'm grateful for good friends who can really hear me. I cherish those who can simply say, "Tell me your pain; your struggle. I will hear you with my heart and not judge you or fix you."
I'm blessed with friends who I do not always agree with nor them me and yet they come when I am in need like lemmings who cannot keep themselves from the cry of crashing.
It is like their heart ears are so attuned to my energy that when there is a breach therein, they feel it in its voids or reverberations in the Universe. Their divine sensitivity allows them to sense ripples disturbing my usual positive demeanor and outlook. They hear my heart clenching or closing in on wounds to my spirit and nature and they heed the call; each in their own blessing way.
Perhaps a call or side conversation when we are alone to check in with me and not let me get away without a reality check and a bit of the balm of unconditional love.
They drop their other plans and meet me at restaurants, parks or grottos to be there for me; to listen, to hear and to hold me gently in light.
They check in to see if I'm viewing myself as a victim and remind me with their light of love that I am capable, worthy of good treatment in the world and able to leap tall shadows in as many bounds as is right for me.
They say to their mates, "I know we had plans, dear, but my friend needs me right now. I want to be there for her," in much the same way I say it when it's their turns to need soul food nourishment. The mates don't mind. They have honor for friends who are there in the crunches. By extension, those others become part of a healing team whether they know it or not. They too are part of a circle of unconditional love and healing... a soothing to my soul.
In this circle, we know we each can stand on our own two feet and figure things out for ourselves. We acknowledge and applaud that dignity. We know that no one can walk our paths for us or change our feelings and we also know that we make rough roads a bit smoother to travel by the extending our hands of help in the simple, profound gift of hearing.
I love these sensitives and am blessed to call them friend.
I'm grateful for good friends who can really hear me. I cherish those who can simply say, "Tell me your pain; your struggle. I will hear you with my heart and not judge you or fix you."
I'm blessed with friends who I do not always agree with nor them me and yet they come when I am in need like lemmings who cannot keep themselves from the cry of crashing.
It is like their heart ears are so attuned to my energy that when there is a breach therein, they feel it in its voids or reverberations in the Universe. Their divine sensitivity allows them to sense ripples disturbing my usual positive demeanor and outlook. They hear my heart clenching or closing in on wounds to my spirit and nature and they heed the call; each in their own blessing way.
Perhaps a call or side conversation when we are alone to check in with me and not let me get away without a reality check and a bit of the balm of unconditional love.
They drop their other plans and meet me at restaurants, parks or grottos to be there for me; to listen, to hear and to hold me gently in light.
They check in to see if I'm viewing myself as a victim and remind me with their light of love that I am capable, worthy of good treatment in the world and able to leap tall shadows in as many bounds as is right for me.
They say to their mates, "I know we had plans, dear, but my friend needs me right now. I want to be there for her," in much the same way I say it when it's their turns to need soul food nourishment. The mates don't mind. They have honor for friends who are there in the crunches. By extension, those others become part of a healing team whether they know it or not. They too are part of a circle of unconditional love and healing... a soothing to my soul.
In this circle, we know we each can stand on our own two feet and figure things out for ourselves. We acknowledge and applaud that dignity. We know that no one can walk our paths for us or change our feelings and we also know that we make rough roads a bit smoother to travel by the extending our hands of help in the simple, profound gift of hearing.
I love these sensitives and am blessed to call them friend.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Quote For The Day
"It takes two to speak the truth: one to speak, and another to hear."
Henry David Thoreau, naturalist and author (1817-1862)
Henry David Thoreau, naturalist and author (1817-1862)
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Daring? Do!
by Florence Ondré
When Thomas Paine said, "He who dares not offend cannot be honest," you could be shot for opening your mouth and laying your truth on the line.
Today, you can just be shot down by people who either don't get what you're saying or can't hear and go selectively deaf when you describe your experience.
Different still gets a whack on the head and sometimes by your nearest and dearest.
In world war II, (Notice I do not capitalize the w's in the words world and war. I know it was a huge planetary event and I choose not to give murder/war of any kind the dignity of capitalization...call it my little quirky act of peace.) individual voice was squelched to almost annihilation. Millions of people; living, breathing stories on two feet, were snuffed out to sate the rapacity of those who would not hear or abide near anyone who smacked of what is still called the spice of life.
It wasn't enough that an entire country and then world followed madmen bent on power and control into participation, via action or inaction, and descent into a hell which is again happening today in the Middle East and on the continent of Africa.
Slaying for having the guts to say and be who you are is still most shamefully in style.
Even in our own good old U S of A, with all the strides we've made in human rights, there is a backward movement afoot to strip citizens of their civil liberties and carom us rearward in time to McCarthism and color barrier days; when speaking your mind, writing or making films about your experiences or feelings and being who you were was judged and categorized in narrow confines.
Today, we're perilously close to a shhh-don't-talk-don't-tell resurgence being urged and sometimes forced on us as a populace by a Christian right wing, my-way-or-the-highway mentality of those in places of power which has no room for differences.
When you can't stand quietly on the side of the highway with a picket sign whose words question our president without being manhandled off anywhere but where that supposed leader might see you or to the clink; when you get carted off to parts unknown for indefinite periods of time without benefit of trial before judge and jury for having swarthy skin or a last name that sounds Eastern, it is time to gather up your ravelled hem of courage and speak out; to say out loud, "The emperor has no clothes on."
It is in these moments where the opportunity for individual stories come together to write the chapters in the book of growth and honor.
This is where listening with compassion turns the key in locks marked 'closed minds' on doors marked 'consciousness and opportunity for peaceful coexistance and Highest Good for all.'
Whether you get cut dead, literally or figuratively, for sharing any part of your story the world library of experience is diminished.
It seems to me that we are a bunch of deaf people on this planet. Desensitized by our own inability to listen, we go off in our cement boots, stuck behind our own plastered on masks, down roads rutted with our every day familiar traipsings.
Do we think we're safer for not allowing ourselves to peek out from behind our heavily constructed barriers against anything new or unfamiliar? Do we think those who are huddled there with us, hunkering down in the haven of common repetition will never turn on us?
Well, I'm here to tell you they can and do. The minute you tell an at odds part of your story, thinking you are with friends who understand and accept you; even those close compatriots in commonality may whiplash you with astonishing, eye-blink judgement and shunning.
Someone I have called friend for years recently went beyond shock when I shared the history of a personal event I'd had where I had to speak up for one person and take an action to stop abusive behavior of another.
My friend who is, shall we say conservative -sometimes to the point of uncomfortability for me- took umbrage against my sharing and could only see me as an agressor against the very perpetrators I was describing. When I asked why he was so upset with my chronicle, he replied, "It's a matter of perspective."
Perspective? What perspective? I had just described in detail my real live experience, not a hunch I had or a perception.
I held back my immediate gut reaction of a knee jerk, "What the Hell are you smoking that you didn't hear what I just told you?" and morphed into basically feeling like I was being judged as one who was making up a fable drawn from imagination instead of sharing a difficult, first person occurance which actually happened to me; which became the flashpoint of my evolution from shy, non-speaking mouse to full height of unafraid, honest verbalizer lioness.
Watching the dropped jaw and pinched, angry face turning away in disgust; spurning me, like I'd just committed some heinous crime right there and then with the opening of my mouth, sent a cold knife through my heart.
There was no expression of compassion for me or the situation I had experienced nor for the child I'd saved. No, "Oh, I'm so sorry you had that experience." No support for the bravery it took for me to stand up to lies, injustice and tyranny was forthcoming. The shock of what felt like betrayal of our friendship in the lack of listening and really hearing was like an ice berg rising from the gaping, dark North Sea now flooding between us.
My not fitting in with this person's ideas of right and wrong trumped heart in this house of cards tumbling down around us. I was looked at like a pariah because what I shared triggered cracks in this one's fear walls.
I got lumped into some pot of awful people who he disapproved of and those in this world who should keep their mouths shut.
It was clear, by his refusal to even look me in the face, that I was now someone who should be walled off in some ghetto of get-in-line-you-big-mouthed-yenta. You don't act or look like I think you should so I'm lumping you in with those others I don't like. Get behind shut-up and never open your mouth again until you can act and speak like the rest of us good behavors.
I was told that I did an awful thing and was contemptible for crowing about it and that was insufferable.
I found myself so incensed that I bit my tongue in self control, nearly gagging on the ideal of giving this other person the same right of free expression as I deserved; then tripped over it, justifying a thousand times over why I did or said what I'd done; hoping some understanding and a light of compassion might just break through so he'd remember who I was; who I'd been for years...truth teller, generous spirit, open hearted, fair minded...friend.
That light did not dawn. Entrenchment, close mindedness, fear and anger solidified and sadly, I accepted that friendship wasn't docked at our table. That ship had sailed.
I took home my hurt and ire at the injustice dealt me by one I'd called friend and while in the shower an hour later, I realized that when our other dinner companion had shared a particularly nasty experience being the victim of the same kind of crime I stood up against, he got a near tears response of sympathy from the very friend who now looked at me like a leper.
It's hard to imagine how one's hair can go on fire while under pouring water but I'm here to tell you it happens.
As remembrance of that small piece of the evening's words hit me, I thought Roman candles were shooting out of my head. I felt so angry that WTF fireworks flew out of the roots of each hair folicle on my cranium.
God! I hate when that happens! Bushwacked. Sideswiped. Run over. Responses delayed. What good are my pithy comebacks if they are all in retrospect?
What good indeed...when the receiver doesn't want to hear.
I accepted today's reality in that this is not someone who really wants to hear me and so closeness is not possible. I will allow and bless the space between us.
That leaves room for possible growth for both of us as individuals.
I will continue to be and share who I am, where I've been, what I experience and I will continue to disturb dark waters and 'dare to offend.'
I encourage you to dare in your own way.
You might as well pull up your Thomas Paine grit, be honest and let your narratives fly out into the world. Scatter those around you with the brilliance of shining your light into cobwebbed corners. Air those ghost stories so that they can touch other courageous souls such as yourself. Don't wait until you're gone and your ancestors have to dig up clues as to who you were, what you believed, said and did. Hesitate not to heave your heart out in the expressing.
You have plenty of time to try on the cloaks of circumspect and courage and make your own choices which honor the heights of honesty and depth of daring.
It's your life and you don't have to tippy toe around your words; hemming and hawing for political correctness or remain caught in fear based conformity. Go on, get messy with feelings and be willing to speak with passion imbued in the paragraphs of you.
Others may identify with the feelings and still have their own uniqueness in their narratives. No one has to agree with you or have your exact encounters, nor do they have the right to judge you, put you down or harm you with words or deeds against you because you speak up.
Your life is a series of the acccounts of your experiences. Tell your stories.
The library of life has shelves waiting for the books of you.
When Thomas Paine said, "He who dares not offend cannot be honest," you could be shot for opening your mouth and laying your truth on the line.
Today, you can just be shot down by people who either don't get what you're saying or can't hear and go selectively deaf when you describe your experience.
Different still gets a whack on the head and sometimes by your nearest and dearest.
In world war II, (Notice I do not capitalize the w's in the words world and war. I know it was a huge planetary event and I choose not to give murder/war of any kind the dignity of capitalization...call it my little quirky act of peace.) individual voice was squelched to almost annihilation. Millions of people; living, breathing stories on two feet, were snuffed out to sate the rapacity of those who would not hear or abide near anyone who smacked of what is still called the spice of life.
It wasn't enough that an entire country and then world followed madmen bent on power and control into participation, via action or inaction, and descent into a hell which is again happening today in the Middle East and on the continent of Africa.
Slaying for having the guts to say and be who you are is still most shamefully in style.
Even in our own good old U S of A, with all the strides we've made in human rights, there is a backward movement afoot to strip citizens of their civil liberties and carom us rearward in time to McCarthism and color barrier days; when speaking your mind, writing or making films about your experiences or feelings and being who you were was judged and categorized in narrow confines.
Today, we're perilously close to a shhh-don't-talk-don't-tell resurgence being urged and sometimes forced on us as a populace by a Christian right wing, my-way-or-the-highway mentality of those in places of power which has no room for differences.
When you can't stand quietly on the side of the highway with a picket sign whose words question our president without being manhandled off anywhere but where that supposed leader might see you or to the clink; when you get carted off to parts unknown for indefinite periods of time without benefit of trial before judge and jury for having swarthy skin or a last name that sounds Eastern, it is time to gather up your ravelled hem of courage and speak out; to say out loud, "The emperor has no clothes on."
It is in these moments where the opportunity for individual stories come together to write the chapters in the book of growth and honor.
This is where listening with compassion turns the key in locks marked 'closed minds' on doors marked 'consciousness and opportunity for peaceful coexistance and Highest Good for all.'
Whether you get cut dead, literally or figuratively, for sharing any part of your story the world library of experience is diminished.
It seems to me that we are a bunch of deaf people on this planet. Desensitized by our own inability to listen, we go off in our cement boots, stuck behind our own plastered on masks, down roads rutted with our every day familiar traipsings.
Do we think we're safer for not allowing ourselves to peek out from behind our heavily constructed barriers against anything new or unfamiliar? Do we think those who are huddled there with us, hunkering down in the haven of common repetition will never turn on us?
Well, I'm here to tell you they can and do. The minute you tell an at odds part of your story, thinking you are with friends who understand and accept you; even those close compatriots in commonality may whiplash you with astonishing, eye-blink judgement and shunning.
Someone I have called friend for years recently went beyond shock when I shared the history of a personal event I'd had where I had to speak up for one person and take an action to stop abusive behavior of another.
My friend who is, shall we say conservative -sometimes to the point of uncomfortability for me- took umbrage against my sharing and could only see me as an agressor against the very perpetrators I was describing. When I asked why he was so upset with my chronicle, he replied, "It's a matter of perspective."
Perspective? What perspective? I had just described in detail my real live experience, not a hunch I had or a perception.
I held back my immediate gut reaction of a knee jerk, "What the Hell are you smoking that you didn't hear what I just told you?" and morphed into basically feeling like I was being judged as one who was making up a fable drawn from imagination instead of sharing a difficult, first person occurance which actually happened to me; which became the flashpoint of my evolution from shy, non-speaking mouse to full height of unafraid, honest verbalizer lioness.
Watching the dropped jaw and pinched, angry face turning away in disgust; spurning me, like I'd just committed some heinous crime right there and then with the opening of my mouth, sent a cold knife through my heart.
There was no expression of compassion for me or the situation I had experienced nor for the child I'd saved. No, "Oh, I'm so sorry you had that experience." No support for the bravery it took for me to stand up to lies, injustice and tyranny was forthcoming. The shock of what felt like betrayal of our friendship in the lack of listening and really hearing was like an ice berg rising from the gaping, dark North Sea now flooding between us.
My not fitting in with this person's ideas of right and wrong trumped heart in this house of cards tumbling down around us. I was looked at like a pariah because what I shared triggered cracks in this one's fear walls.
I got lumped into some pot of awful people who he disapproved of and those in this world who should keep their mouths shut.
It was clear, by his refusal to even look me in the face, that I was now someone who should be walled off in some ghetto of get-in-line-you-big-mouthed-yenta. You don't act or look like I think you should so I'm lumping you in with those others I don't like. Get behind shut-up and never open your mouth again until you can act and speak like the rest of us good behavors.
I was told that I did an awful thing and was contemptible for crowing about it and that was insufferable.
I found myself so incensed that I bit my tongue in self control, nearly gagging on the ideal of giving this other person the same right of free expression as I deserved; then tripped over it, justifying a thousand times over why I did or said what I'd done; hoping some understanding and a light of compassion might just break through so he'd remember who I was; who I'd been for years...truth teller, generous spirit, open hearted, fair minded...friend.
That light did not dawn. Entrenchment, close mindedness, fear and anger solidified and sadly, I accepted that friendship wasn't docked at our table. That ship had sailed.
I took home my hurt and ire at the injustice dealt me by one I'd called friend and while in the shower an hour later, I realized that when our other dinner companion had shared a particularly nasty experience being the victim of the same kind of crime I stood up against, he got a near tears response of sympathy from the very friend who now looked at me like a leper.
It's hard to imagine how one's hair can go on fire while under pouring water but I'm here to tell you it happens.
As remembrance of that small piece of the evening's words hit me, I thought Roman candles were shooting out of my head. I felt so angry that WTF fireworks flew out of the roots of each hair folicle on my cranium.
God! I hate when that happens! Bushwacked. Sideswiped. Run over. Responses delayed. What good are my pithy comebacks if they are all in retrospect?
What good indeed...when the receiver doesn't want to hear.
I accepted today's reality in that this is not someone who really wants to hear me and so closeness is not possible. I will allow and bless the space between us.
That leaves room for possible growth for both of us as individuals.
I will continue to be and share who I am, where I've been, what I experience and I will continue to disturb dark waters and 'dare to offend.'
I encourage you to dare in your own way.
You might as well pull up your Thomas Paine grit, be honest and let your narratives fly out into the world. Scatter those around you with the brilliance of shining your light into cobwebbed corners. Air those ghost stories so that they can touch other courageous souls such as yourself. Don't wait until you're gone and your ancestors have to dig up clues as to who you were, what you believed, said and did. Hesitate not to heave your heart out in the expressing.
You have plenty of time to try on the cloaks of circumspect and courage and make your own choices which honor the heights of honesty and depth of daring.
It's your life and you don't have to tippy toe around your words; hemming and hawing for political correctness or remain caught in fear based conformity. Go on, get messy with feelings and be willing to speak with passion imbued in the paragraphs of you.
Others may identify with the feelings and still have their own uniqueness in their narratives. No one has to agree with you or have your exact encounters, nor do they have the right to judge you, put you down or harm you with words or deeds against you because you speak up.
Your life is a series of the acccounts of your experiences. Tell your stories.
The library of life has shelves waiting for the books of you.
Quote For The Day
"He who dares not offend cannot be honest."
Thomas Paine, philosopher and writer (1737-1809)
Thomas Paine, philosopher and writer (1737-1809)
Friday, January 05, 2007
Quote For The Day
"Without books the development of civilization would have been impossible. They are the engines of change, windows on the world, "Lighthouses" as the poet said "erected in the sea of time." They are companions, teachers, magicians, bankers of the treasures of the mind, Books are humanity in print."
Arthur Schopenhauer , philosopher (1788-1860)*
Arthur Schopenhauer , philosopher (1788-1860)*
Monday, January 01, 2007
“Sliding Home...Woo Hoo! What a Ride!...”
By Florence Ondré
A friend sent this to me for New Year's:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the
intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways,
chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming
"WOO HOO what a ride!"
Upon reading this, I felt joyful. The smile spread across my face like a flash flood of happy.
"Yeah! That's it!" I thought, "Let me slide into home plate out of breath from exhileration."
I wanted to immediately share these words with all my friends; make it a New Year's Day first e-mail.
I got the gist of the little piece; felt the uplifting spirit of jumping into life with arms outstretched; the joi de vivre of way-to-go woo hoo!
Then I thought of my own philosophy and state of health of myself and others, which has been fragile and consuming of care.
Several of our nearest and dearest have endured numerous, serious health challenges. My love and I don't drink alcohol. He keeps chocolate to a minimum because it plays not so funny games with his heartrate and, since experiencing a couple of accidents, both of us have had to focus on tending the earthsuit repair and maintenance far more than we'd like, with actual journeying out into the world being curtailed.
'Hmmm. Wait a min,' I thought. 'I don't want to advocate throwing self care all to hell. I can hear all my vegetarian, sober, wholistic health buddies round the planet who do amazing work in body, mine and spirit, bristle and yet I get the gist of the little piece totally in the energy field without leaving the chair in front of my computer.
This paragraph isn't saying: 'Chuck it all and get drunk and clog your arteries with the cacao sugar and fat.' That line is a metaphor for dare to risk enjoying life while you're here on Earth!
Don't fret about every line on your face and be totally consumed with what you look like. (The word 'totally'being the look-at-me word here. Please do drag a comb through your hair occasionally and take a bath or shower...I insist.)
I don't care much anymore if you color co-ordinate or have make-up on and hair styles have gotten really fantastik in the creativity department. So what the heck do I know looks any better than the purple, green and screaming yellow, foot high spikes coming up out of your head like plastered points. I admire the free spiritedness. I find the free-to-be-ness fabulously enjoyable.
I'm simply saying, maybe it's time to give the nip and tuck docs and your already beautiful Earthsuit a rest so you can have more time to enjoy life while you're here.
Get dirty on the trails of Mother Nature. Allow the wind to wreak whatever havoc it can with your tresses. Leave off worries about your eyeliner running while you poke your head into the wildness of a waterfall's mist and roar. Let your self go all to your old standards wrack and ruin by not holding back laughter and smiles which might keep your face from looking continuously 20.
I'm not knocking science which can greatly benefit those who need. I'm basically saying most of us look OK and asking, tic-tic-tic folks, how do you really want to spend those fleeting minutes on this fabulous planet?
You probably don't need another 'make-over. This is coming from a former skinny model who wouldn’t leave the house if a hair was out of place and is now pleasantly plump and happily hairspray free. So, you can take that to the bank. We all look pretty good; hype and commercialism to the contrary.
I remember one time when I was recovering from a fractured sternum which was so painful that I couldn't wear a bra. A city chic girlfriend of mine, whom I hadn't seen in a while, came to spend the day with me at my beach side home and upon seeing me in my comfy oversized sweats remarked, "That's not a good look for you, dear."
Another standout teaching moment in this category was when I was able to get together with friends after a long and arduous recovery from debilitating spine injury and one just couldn't keep from sharing her thoughts upon seeing me at long last, "You need a haircut. You look like Hell."
I felt the initial shock, sadness and sting of those comments and wondered, 'Why aren't they just happy I'm alive and able to show up? Why can't they simply be glad for my company?'
And then my spirit kicked back with the humor of how funny it was that, in the face of near death and never seeing me walk in a room again, these two pals, who do care about me, were only worrying about what I looked like when I finally got there!
Actually the first friend announced to me that her intention in this life was to do anything it took to walk through those pearly gates looking good! Like there might be assigned sections in Heaven labeled “Beautiful People; svelte and unlined” and “The Rest Of You;” with the choicest celestial perks going only to those who didn’t get their Birthday suit smudged, stretched out or wrinkled.
Reading that little piece my friend sent me to start off the new year, gave me pause for thought and question. What would be in my hands as I slid home?
With my love of good food, fun and exploring the world in all it's dimensions, I'm thinking I'll have both lovely chocolate in one hand and the non alcohol, fruity bubblys I enjoy and crystal clear, ice cold water from the headwaters of mountain streams in the other; with the fragrance of world class Thai, French and Italian food clinging to me; my clothes dabbed with drippings from my friend, Owen’s mom’s incredible herb roast chicken and fried fruited kugle; my buddy, Kathy’s, ballabusta Beouf Bourgignon and my chum, Charlie’s cherished chicken soup and stuffed Turk’s Turban... and pockets overflowing with photos of all the friends and family fun, great meals shared...and with smiles and songs filling my heart!
What a fat album that will be in the Akashik Records!
Of course I'll have had to fight through my own little fences of what is socially acceptable, wanting to fit in and being responsible, to get to the tasting of ripe fruit I thought beyond my reach. I'd have had to give up caring more about how I look like than what I feel.
Focus and perception.
And thankfully there are no rules or regulations. My journey is mine as yours is yours.
I've come to a place where I'm more interested in...did you show up; did you laugh; did you discover something new that made you wonder, sigh or giggle; did you notice something you'd never seen, heard or felt before; did you taste something new and relish what you liked; did you open your heart to give or receive; did you make mistakes, learn from them and discover comedy in your process; did you find peace, did you love and allow yourself to be loved; did you experience joy?
I want to know this about myself and I want to know this about you, my fellow traveler.
How do you want to arrive at the end of your Earth journey this time?
I’m waiting to hear your Woo Hoo!
A friend sent this to me for New Year's:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the
intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways,
chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming
"WOO HOO what a ride!"
Upon reading this, I felt joyful. The smile spread across my face like a flash flood of happy.
"Yeah! That's it!" I thought, "Let me slide into home plate out of breath from exhileration."
I wanted to immediately share these words with all my friends; make it a New Year's Day first e-mail.
I got the gist of the little piece; felt the uplifting spirit of jumping into life with arms outstretched; the joi de vivre of way-to-go woo hoo!
Then I thought of my own philosophy and state of health of myself and others, which has been fragile and consuming of care.
Several of our nearest and dearest have endured numerous, serious health challenges. My love and I don't drink alcohol. He keeps chocolate to a minimum because it plays not so funny games with his heartrate and, since experiencing a couple of accidents, both of us have had to focus on tending the earthsuit repair and maintenance far more than we'd like, with actual journeying out into the world being curtailed.
'Hmmm. Wait a min,' I thought. 'I don't want to advocate throwing self care all to hell. I can hear all my vegetarian, sober, wholistic health buddies round the planet who do amazing work in body, mine and spirit, bristle and yet I get the gist of the little piece totally in the energy field without leaving the chair in front of my computer.
This paragraph isn't saying: 'Chuck it all and get drunk and clog your arteries with the cacao sugar and fat.' That line is a metaphor for dare to risk enjoying life while you're here on Earth!
Don't fret about every line on your face and be totally consumed with what you look like. (The word 'totally'being the look-at-me word here. Please do drag a comb through your hair occasionally and take a bath or shower...I insist.)
I don't care much anymore if you color co-ordinate or have make-up on and hair styles have gotten really fantastik in the creativity department. So what the heck do I know looks any better than the purple, green and screaming yellow, foot high spikes coming up out of your head like plastered points. I admire the free spiritedness. I find the free-to-be-ness fabulously enjoyable.
I'm simply saying, maybe it's time to give the nip and tuck docs and your already beautiful Earthsuit a rest so you can have more time to enjoy life while you're here.
Get dirty on the trails of Mother Nature. Allow the wind to wreak whatever havoc it can with your tresses. Leave off worries about your eyeliner running while you poke your head into the wildness of a waterfall's mist and roar. Let your self go all to your old standards wrack and ruin by not holding back laughter and smiles which might keep your face from looking continuously 20.
I'm not knocking science which can greatly benefit those who need. I'm basically saying most of us look OK and asking, tic-tic-tic folks, how do you really want to spend those fleeting minutes on this fabulous planet?
You probably don't need another 'make-over. This is coming from a former skinny model who wouldn’t leave the house if a hair was out of place and is now pleasantly plump and happily hairspray free. So, you can take that to the bank. We all look pretty good; hype and commercialism to the contrary.
I remember one time when I was recovering from a fractured sternum which was so painful that I couldn't wear a bra. A city chic girlfriend of mine, whom I hadn't seen in a while, came to spend the day with me at my beach side home and upon seeing me in my comfy oversized sweats remarked, "That's not a good look for you, dear."
Another standout teaching moment in this category was when I was able to get together with friends after a long and arduous recovery from debilitating spine injury and one just couldn't keep from sharing her thoughts upon seeing me at long last, "You need a haircut. You look like Hell."
I felt the initial shock, sadness and sting of those comments and wondered, 'Why aren't they just happy I'm alive and able to show up? Why can't they simply be glad for my company?'
And then my spirit kicked back with the humor of how funny it was that, in the face of near death and never seeing me walk in a room again, these two pals, who do care about me, were only worrying about what I looked like when I finally got there!
Actually the first friend announced to me that her intention in this life was to do anything it took to walk through those pearly gates looking good! Like there might be assigned sections in Heaven labeled “Beautiful People; svelte and unlined” and “The Rest Of You;” with the choicest celestial perks going only to those who didn’t get their Birthday suit smudged, stretched out or wrinkled.
Reading that little piece my friend sent me to start off the new year, gave me pause for thought and question. What would be in my hands as I slid home?
With my love of good food, fun and exploring the world in all it's dimensions, I'm thinking I'll have both lovely chocolate in one hand and the non alcohol, fruity bubblys I enjoy and crystal clear, ice cold water from the headwaters of mountain streams in the other; with the fragrance of world class Thai, French and Italian food clinging to me; my clothes dabbed with drippings from my friend, Owen’s mom’s incredible herb roast chicken and fried fruited kugle; my buddy, Kathy’s, ballabusta Beouf Bourgignon and my chum, Charlie’s cherished chicken soup and stuffed Turk’s Turban... and pockets overflowing with photos of all the friends and family fun, great meals shared...and with smiles and songs filling my heart!
What a fat album that will be in the Akashik Records!
Of course I'll have had to fight through my own little fences of what is socially acceptable, wanting to fit in and being responsible, to get to the tasting of ripe fruit I thought beyond my reach. I'd have had to give up caring more about how I look like than what I feel.
Focus and perception.
And thankfully there are no rules or regulations. My journey is mine as yours is yours.
I've come to a place where I'm more interested in...did you show up; did you laugh; did you discover something new that made you wonder, sigh or giggle; did you notice something you'd never seen, heard or felt before; did you taste something new and relish what you liked; did you open your heart to give or receive; did you make mistakes, learn from them and discover comedy in your process; did you find peace, did you love and allow yourself to be loved; did you experience joy?
I want to know this about myself and I want to know this about you, my fellow traveler.
How do you want to arrive at the end of your Earth journey this time?
I’m waiting to hear your Woo Hoo!
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