One Day They

One day it’s just different. 

Change can be both bold and subtle, or perhaps it’s our attention to shifting degrees that is so distracted.  As a child I would wonder at the formation and dissipation of clouds.  But to witness them, you had to focus your attention; you had to be still.  Much like autumn's colorful transitions, it can go unnoticed until significant collection of change is indisputable.  Nature doesn't ask permission.

    So often, I've heard, when in discussion "That's what I believe" as the consummate respond to competing opinions.  I've spent some time dissembling the notion of belief, in order to see how it ticks.  When I was younger, on impulse of liken wondering, I took to the task of cracking the case and getting into the guts of our family telephone.  I was very proud of my ability to get it apart and down to its most primary components without having to resort to violent efforts; as in destroying the design in my quest.  My mother, on the other hand, was not amused, nor nearly as delighted as I.  She did not hesitate or candy coat threat in the least that suffering would be my lot if I did not get the phone put back together by the time my father got home from work.  With the exception of a few spare screws, all was reassembled by the time he arrived; lucky me.

    Back to belief:

As is commonly accepted, our thoughts are supported by emotions, and so are referred to as feelings.  Now, I'm not going to try and awe or beguile with some institutional study to curry ...um...belief.  But, what seems to be the case, in my opinion, is that we sort of do that internally with just about every living moment.  We have an experience, and at the core of it are collected facts.  The house burned, the horse jumped, the ice cream fell to the ground; the phone is apart.  Facts: Some of the time, they are undeniably 'true'  Yup, that the phone unit is now in its multitude of parts. Where we get ourselves off track from actual, is our irresistible, and mostly reflex, nature to conveyance from event to belief. 

  "You better believe there will be hell to pay when your dad gets home if it is NOT put back together" 

  That, is an assumption. A strong motivator if I am to agree with the premise, but still, nothing leads me to 'believe' that it is so but my own conviction from past experience, that the statement is a 'fact' and not an assumption; that is, pop will have a hormonal episode when called to attention of my antics.  When I believe the construction of facts and fiction to be the truth, then I have the beginnings of faith; a strong belief. 

  Obviously some belief's are harmless enough, such as the sun will come up, or that our job will be there tomorrow.  Well, that is until you walk into the company to be called to the office and be surprised with dismissal.  Then, that belief is challenged, and oft as not, an emotional response occurs,

   "I thought I was doing a good job" (but it was really a belief fashioned out of selective facts and cooked into a concept.)  Or as in the phone example, I believed that threat of beating was imminently predictable if I did not perform in a certain way. Why? Well, because we place our faith in our ability to predict the truth from our past.  Or another way of looking at it is, we assume the way we assemble our collection of facts to be true; which leads us to belief; then attach our faith into that conclusion.  Why do we do all of this? 

  In the survival of our species, it was necessary to develop a keen sense of predicting.  We were not as fast as our predators, nor did we have weapons adequate to provide survival once caught.  But we did have a brain that could reason, and possessed a good memory too boot. Over time we developed a method of discerning our environment with all of its implications; doing this revealed something amazing, something other animals could not, and that was projecting facts into possibilities.

   "If I walk out during the middle of the day, in the open to the water hole, I am vulnerable.  I wonder if I did that at night if my chances of surviving would increase?" 

  As eon's shaped and honed this ability, we discovered a trust in those skills to help us survive. As it is now, experience, personal knowledge, encourages what we refer to as trust.  As we continue to trust our experience, we create this belief that we 'know' and so have faith in our past.  Left unchecked or dismissing evidence to the contrary, we develop a predication, where we will continue to obtain the same results if we do things the same way.  That is the root of our traditions and rituals of most of our religions.  Obtaining the same results by following a script dictated not by response to current facts, but reliance on past results ~ denying if you will, the influence of present facts in order to obtain the desired same state, which of course was based on other facts; is wishful thinking.  Sages over the ages have warned us of such practice.  Claiming a superior state is to not become attached to our sensations.  There is a caution to not haphazardly assign experience as truth.  Mostly, we shape assumptions from our evidence, thereby by extension, go 'jumping to conclusions'.  This is a false reliance on our ability to collect, and process pertinent facts.  But like all things, do so really depends on attention to those details that are being revealed.  The summer sky, the autumn leaves, the telephone examples are varying degrees of applied attention to change, as well as the subtle application of assumptions. 

   Speculation is fine for problem solving, weighing options is healthy. But for a course of action its nothing more than creating a fanciful belief system.  It is a poor substitution to believe as 'truth' in place of facts in an ever changing world.  It is as if driving with eyes tightly shut muttering, "so far, so good....so far...so good"

Itch

I was waiting in the airport to pick up my nephew and his flight was delayed.

That happens more often as America takes to seeking happy someplace other than where they are. The industry just can’t keep up with the discontented on pilgrimages towards fun; can’t keep enough airframes flying to accommodate the ponderable crowds.

My upper arch itched, and it became relentless. I walked; it persisted.

I finally untied my shoe,took my foot out and scratched crazily at my sock.

I wondered why I was reluctant to do it sooner.

No one was watching; no one cared to look.  The Indian family next to me was too busy excitedly arguing.  Perhaps on the merits of shoes and socks in airports

Or maybe obtaining permission to scratch in public?

I don’t know; I can’t speak Hindi.

Pass the Salt

  Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome from 121 CE to March 180 CE was also known as a Stoic Philosopher. His tome Mediations, written during one of his campaigns of conquest, is often required reading for present day College Philosophy majors.  His work is still revered as a literary monument to philosophy of service and duty; describing how to find and preserve equanimity in the midst of conflict by following nature as a source of guidance and inspiration. 

   When his book was being translated from its original Greek, there arose some skepticism on the exactness of effort.  It wasn’t until a renowned expert on ancient Greek caught an obvious error that the doubts were well founded.  The translator, wishing to stay in good graces with the sponsor of the project, translated a passage where Marcus Aurelius was said to be praising a fellow at an official dinner with Obduco Sal salis as ‘he was the salt of the earth’ when in actuality it was ‘Pass the salt.”

  Sometimes things get blown out of proportion.

Change of Situation

I received a letter from a distant friend.

Where in sharing their situation with me, I saw myself; how I had been, not too long ago.

  Yet I sensed the subtle change from the way I had grown accustomed to judging and distinguishing myself by current conditions. 

The words he used woven of a fellowship born from past hurts.  The gravity attracted with similar complaint I used to suckle; those born from current constraints and difficulties in adapting to the unexpected and unwanted.  I too used to find a sense of comfort in having another listen to my protest; encouraged, as it were, with familiarity in shared suffering.

I nodded as I read, acknowledging the companionship in feeling desperate; that acrid inner aching for someone-anyone to understand; just so as to not feel neglected, or worst of it, abandoned, or even, for God’s sake, alone with an inkling notion of being quiet literally mad. I've grown to understand more about the conditions with which we shape our lives; claiming still ~ I know nothing, I am familiar with the driving desire to connect with others; we resort to any theme available.

  Is it any wonder how in misery we focus and pick on our wounds?  I've been hurt, captive to the notion that constant attention to pain would somehow leach the poison out; Oh, and then I'd magically become healed; again whole.  

   Years ago I had read that we humans are habit forming creatures, since we did not possess the wealth of instincts of our animal brothers. Habits turn into vices; it’s just a question of form.  Change calls to surface observation of those habits and which situations supports them ~

  Then of course, our associations and routines create more.  Discomfort calls us to adjust, but most oft ~ release.  The quest for improvement can be mostly

comprised of cleansing, of canceling an effect; I’ve read where in the ancient Aramaic that’s called forgiveness.  It's an uncomfortable experience, for we find it difficult to explain the vista from which a new horizon is viewed.  Sorrow, loss, reluctance, and lament vie for attention to influence choices.  Keep safe; keep dear; keep close; that is not the same as cherished character, the ultimate freedom to allow this thing we call ‘what is’ and not fear it as a measurement that is in some way refers to the quality of who we want others to think we are.  How can we hope to feel better when our efforts are focused and burdened with examining where we've been?  Rather than on where we are; the actual threshold to what we shall become.

A Guacamole World

Guacamole; gua-ca-mol-aaaaa, cha cha cha.  Saying it is fun. Now truth be told, Guacamole is an Aztec word for avocado sauce. I was tempted to give the phonics of it, but decided instead to mention if you’re really interested go to Wikipedia and find out for yourself. 

 As I said earlier, the source of Guacamole goes back to the 16^th Century Aztecs. Since then there have been, of course, modifications along with additions along the way. It’s still a crowd pleaser in Mexico, just as it has infiltrated into the US culinary list of not just well known, but favorites. 

  The original version was just avocado mushed into past in a mortar and pestle.  Today it’s anyone’s guess what Guacamole has in it; from the purest preference of using the singular avocados, to the more flamboyant inclusion of tomatoes, onions, lime and garlic.  Whichever version fits your palates delight, they’ll all fit the bill.  Yup…it depends on who makes it on how it taste. 

Now it just so happens that Montse’s magic makes Avocados change their demeanor with a liberal portion of garlic.  She asked me what made Guacamole so special?  I didn’t know; as a youth I never liked it much, and that’s me coming from an Avocado producing state no less.  So recently when she created her version, it won me over hands down; now it’s a wonderful treat...nay dare I say one of my favorites?  I guess some things keep their quality throughout time, and then as been said our taste change with age; if you’re willing to tinker with the details it may just appear to be something wonderfully new. Heck its popularity is noteworthy. 

Sales of avocados for just two days; the Super Bowl and Cinco de Mayo alone calls for over 30 million pounds of the awkward fruit with the enormous pit.  Now that’s some serious partying.

Good Humor

What brings good humor? It can be as simple as the wondrous contradiction that exist between the expected and surprise. Of course, I’d lean towards the latter. We like surprises, even when the situation makes us uncomfortable. I met a woman years ago of little means who, having said that about her situation, I’d also add her smile was the most attractive and contented I have ever set eyes upon. Her smile was so compelling that I lost track of my thoughts; it was that commanding. I commented to her, “You look very happy.” Her reply echoes in my memory today whenever I think on it. “I am, because I give myself away.” She must have seen my confusion at her reply, because after a few heart beats she added, “in smiles.” 

I believe what she meant, was as she demonstrated her contentment and joy, she would stir up the familiarity in others. Where they could experience once more the natural tendency towards happy they were born to be. Perhaps not, but that’s what I’d like to believe. 

In the mean time, a little humor goes a long way in a day fraught with challenging difficulties. After all, we can have fun discovering that our assumptions are completely wrong…it’s a choice of course, but I think if I can get used to seeking the humor in any situation, then I’m giving myself permission to imagine a peaceful existence absent of threat. 

Well, I guess I should end this reflection with a joke…it’s the humor that makes us relish laughing, is it not? 

The President was awakened one night by an urgent call from the Pentagon.

"Mr. President," said the four-star general, barely able to contain himself, "there's good news & bad news."

"Oh, no," muttered the President, "Well, let me have the bad news first."

"The bad news, sir, is that we've been invaded by creatures from another planet."

"Gosh, and the good news?"

"The good news, sir, is that they eat reporters and pee oil."

Mist and Driving

I like to talk about thinking.  Really thinking, not the distracted purpose driven choice making most of us believe as rational analysis of a proposition.
  Sometimes I even talk clearly enough that someone would get an idea of what I believe.  But I laugh to myself often in that inner chamber of my mind where there isn't sound; the sacred place where the sense of my own voice is easy, as well as what I believe is suspect because it’s so darn subject to change; liken to chasing fireflies.  I read once where our reality is born from our perspective; just as well as our imagination is limited by our experience. Taking those into account, the actual event witnessed is subject to interpretation by every single person who observes it. 

  Never mind going down the paradoxical 'if a tree falls in the
woods, does it make any sound?' pathway. Those sort of things are just jester’s ways of calling attention to facets of life that can be contradictions. I really have to pause and ask if they add any quality whatsoever to my condition?  In Ann Ryan's book, ATLAS SHRUGGED, there was a premise whenever questions were asked that invoked irrelevant responses the humorous reply would be 'Who is John Galt' as a sublime code announcing the surfacing of an irrelevant and nonsensical question. Naturally a response to 'Who is John Galt' would translate into, 'what does that have to do with what I asked you?"  

  "Exactly! What does YOUR question have to do with reality?"  Similar
to pursuing arguments over what color are God’s sandals? Distilled summation: Does it matter? From a point of view, (which is to say every point of view) does defining have that much to do with correctness or connection? Well, I'm driving along enjoying the flow of these thoughts, finding it amusing that we spend more time defining collected data rather than expressing interpretations on living.  As if everyone had the same reference point, when evidence suggest that nothing could be further from the truth!  The idea of expressing our delights, hopes, and yes, fears the mind gins up from moment to moment, is in a way a catharsis for figuring out where fantasy's end and where agreement begins.  For the sake of sanity I suspect, if we did not engage in dialog beyond the need to communicate only when information was required, or need conveyed, It'd be one dull existence spent mostly in frustration. 

Wrought by trying to figure out how others see things you don't; too bad for that. As for me, I'll blabber about anything and everything for the sheer delight and amusement of what's found out.  And in my world, John Galt is a cool dude that is in a constant state of awe.
That’s what I'd say
and I'd gladly invite him to coffee for a talk, and maybe learn he's a lot
just like me.

Summary Hallway Executions

I was a bit more miffed than I usually get with reports on current events.  Adsense kicked me out for violating one of their terms of service. Which one would have been nice to know; then appealing the verdict would have more focus wouldn't you agree?

Anonymous Judge: “You have been found guilty, and will forfeit all unpaid accumulated fees you’ve garnered for allowing us to post advertisements on your blog. What is your defense?”

Me: "What have I done?"

AJ:  "You can appeal the summary judgment and punishment if you'd like"

Me: "What have I done?"

AJ: "You broke the rules, that is sufficient enough for you to know"

Me: "But how can I appeal mitigation or extenuation if I don't know the nature of the offense? Which rule have I broken?"

AJ: "We are far too large and busy to waste our time in explaining offenses you have performed, prior to us denying your appeal.  Besides, if we told you how we come to our conclusions some unscrupulous fellows might figure out how we clandestinely select our victims…er…offenders."

Me: "Then why have an appeal process if the person accused can not address the infraction?"

JA: "Diabolical isn't it criminal!!  You are hereby banned for life."

Me:“That seems harsh”

AJ: “Perhaps, be grateful we didn’t take away your birthday”

Me: “I’ll be sure to light a candle for you”

AJ: “Yes, well you go do that, but as for now go away we have other people’s trust we’re still interested in ambushing”

Out of Your Comfort Zone

  There is a saying I learned years ago when I was a student of business, I don’t know who to give the credit to. Since then, I’ve seen it surface in different forms but pretty much in the same sentiment: 

What was yesterday’s favor is today’s expectation and tomorrow’s obligation. 

  I was reminded of it when I read about a musician who had created a form with a list of videosheetmusic for his customers.  At first it was fun, but then change came as more and more people became increasingly demanding.  When the demands were not met immediately he was treated rudely (I cleaned this up for the blog.)  Yet, I’ve seen similar in many walks of life.  When someone does something out of the pure joy of helping, ultimately they get entangled with an encore of expectation, followed by cursing and ridiculed when they don’t keep the performance up to increasing demands as well as to do so; faster.

  Now I am all over the place on this topic today because it came to my notice indirectly while walking our dog.  We walk him every day; it’s a routine ~ a virtual ritual… unless of course, it’s raining. Suffice to say, we’ve grown familiar with the route and most importantly, command of our dog’s behavior.  Now I believe dogs have two objectives on a walk:  Relieve themselves; and have an adventure.  On the days that I take Oscar (our pet Bichon) out early before breakfast to do his business, then his behavior during the walk is radically different than on the days he wasn’t given an early morning potty break.  On those days when he is empty, his objective is simply to have an adventure; much to my wife’s complaint.  Because then he is unmanageably distracted, and mostly wild-child-puppy.

  So what do these two perspectives have to do with one another?  It is my contention they are linked. Our routines and rituals provide a sense of comfort in believing we are safe within predicting the unfolding day.  Along with that, is a resistance to change; which is relatively the same as a growing expectation, followed quickly by obligation in doing daily activities in the same, rigid, undeviating way.  The notion that prevails is a desire to obtain the same (or preferably improved) quality in meeting ill-defined desires.  When we don’t obtain expected results, then we are unhappy; then prone to use the tools we’ve developed over the years to influence, force even, our external world to render onto Caesar (us) what is Caesar’s.   

The Uplifting segment of today’s observation is the quiet potential; the adventure if you will.  Change is our friend; it includes examining unyielding obligations we’ve grown so fond of that keep expectations warm.  If there is anything that is desired to be changed in one’s life, then ritual and routine must be addressed.  

Without challenging comfort, we’ve little to hope for than more of the same; it is essential to get out of the comfort zone; where change springs eternal. That’s just the simple math of existing in the real.

Come Back to Me

For those occasions when I get stuck in deep thinking, my wife shocks me out of my revelry with “Come Back to Me.” She does this most often when I’m driving. Her concern grows over my NOT being alert to traffic conditions; she notices my drifting by the reduced speed; other cars race by us on both sides. It is then she is certain I’ve become the hindrance to traffic flow while off on some mental tra-la-la.  Good safety tip, don’t let your mind wander when moving at high speed in a mostly plastic container which is an illusion of safe.

   I was entertaining the low level noise of others deceit.  Not the fooling me into giving away the family fortune for land in the Everglades kind of deception but rather the mundane everyday kind of deceit of illusionary perception.  Since we are all subjectively constructing our concepts moment by moment, it can be confusing to sort out what are the facts and which ones among them I agree with, (knowing all along, those are most likely personally endeared values I WANT to hold the ultimate, universal and TRUE definition.)  Montse and I were in deep conversation about how the paths of actual and illusion depart in different directions until the preponderance of facts makes an illusion fall in on itself.  You can only fool yourself for so long. Then “Snap” disillusionment happens and you’re in the rubble of a well cultivated dream.  Which may be uncomfortable, and even hurt, but it’s always best to be back in the here and now.  So Imagine every single one of us wandering away into our dream world, weaving a fantasy of self-serving facts that perpetuate our royal personage; our special identity; our ever cherished and perpetual important status, commanding the external world with a sense of entitled deserving privilege.

Yikes, use your damn blinkers when you swerve buddy.

  Pretty easy to see where the struggle comes from eh?  Just as that struggle has tributaries of worry, anxiety, anger, frustration, and most compelling of them;

Terror.

  I’ve pondered this process for years.  I wanted to figure out how to anticipate it; to extinguish the practice; and to rise above self delusion.  There are plenty of suggestions on how to live mindfully.  Just as there are techniques to calm one's self in order to move from that place of anxious into a calm confidence of the actual moment.  What I have overlooked for far too long, was the common-every-day solvent that works so well, has been staring me in the face for all of my recollecting life, and I’ve neglected to resort to.  What is the silver bullet to self-inflicted limiting woundings?  Humor. 

Just as with all good humor, there is a punchline bringing the joke to its dramatic delivery; and here’s the beauty of it.  That punchline is a key phrase as your own wakeup call.  Construct it; find it; then treasure the skill as you hone it to cut through your woven nonsense.  For me, it’s the startle that awakens me everytime I hear it; from the lips of the one I cherish, or the guiding voice in my head who witnesses my meaningless mental tomfoolery stuck on trying to make conflicting concepts make sense in a inconsistent existence.  Come back to me.

The Sacred Moment

The sacred moment has relevance to the notion that one becomes clear to the potential in the present, living in the now; seeing the possibilities mixed with appreciation are considered a rare and spiritual moment one must aspire towards.  Mindfulness; is said to be a practice.  Authenticity; a condition of processing unbiased observation; but kindness is a release into our natural disposition.

  My father died three years ago on this very day. In my early morning reflections I recognized this auspicious moment for my family. I thought about my mother being alone; my older sisters having lost pretty much their best friend, and yes, my loss as well. The short version: I was sad.  I recalled a snapshot of our shared past. Not of him lifting me out of the ocean waves when I was a toddler; or when he gifted me cash to sustain me as I ventured to Southern California to pursue a career in music. Those are endeared moments that help even the scales for times I suckle on moments of his anger and abuse.  Not saying I was an abused child as much as I was part of the greater scheme of healing one another.  It was a specific recall that rippled sadness for me this morning. It involved the time my sister and I took him to the Emergency Room.   

  Early in the morning we arrived at my parent’s home intending on taking him to a pre-heart valve replacement operation orientation; scheduled for the following day.  When we walked into their living room we saw both of them sitting on the couch, waiting on us.  He looked so fragile, as my mother next to him wore a poorly hidden worry; occasionally she would stroke his hand. It was obvious he was in no condition to sit for a day of orientation, or anything else for that matter; instantly we decided to take him to the emergency room instead.  I clearly remember my mother saying good bye with concern in her voice, as she stood and watched him gingerly shuffle towards the door, not even turning around; he gruffly replied, “See Ya.” No hug, nor kiss, not even making eye contact to assuage her fear; he just walked out.  I remember it clearly because it struck me as rather callous. But then he must have been in extreme duress; that and their relationship had devolved to one of quibbling and fault finding that is seen as common with many older couples. Uncomfortable to observe, yet somehow it worked for them. I almost made comment, but my concern to get him to a doctor eclipsed my reaction; I was in earnest to get him to hospital.  Later that day he expired in the emergency room.  
  So in retrospect, I grieve that lost opportunity for him to convey his love to a woman who was his companion for over half a century.  The sorrow tightens my heart even now as I write these words.  In reflection now, I see that was his last gift to me. 

  It helped me to galvanize a promise to myself: I would never leave my love waiting on me without having conveyed my affection and appreciation by a simple, “I love you” on my way out the door.  It’s no secret to any of us that our ending may come as a surprise; an auto accident going to work, or back; a slip on the stairs at any of a number of places we frequent; a hidden aneurism whose introduction comes with a hearty laugh while eating lunch with a co-worker.  The point being, we will not be afforded precious moments to convey how we truly feel about another when in the midst of the downward spiral towards the end of all things.  My father’s passing allowed me to notice my own oversights and slights.

   I would be really super glad if I could live in perpetual appreciation for all the care and love around me.  Alas, I’m as easily distracted by my external trappings as the next fellow. One thing I am made wise to; and that is expressing my love to the one who has chose to be with me my remaining days.  So I seek to be aware, and not talk myself into self-serving delusions; to express kindness as often as I am able to remember; and to abandon my own taking love for granted.  Thereby not allowing a disrespect to love; a dismissive ‘see ya’ as substitute for a genuine ‘I adore you.’  I’m richer for having the comparison to keep me on track to living in my own sacred moments.

Sick and Tired of Being Lied To

I was tempted to relay a series of events culminating in a self-serving seduction of my readers into agreeing on the injustice delivered on me by a well organized, efficient, design to avoid performing on promises.

  This duality is build into most systems advertising to care for the public at large.  I felt needful to address this, but not in the way I originally thought I would. No one is innocent from the touch of disillusionment, no one at least I know of.  The burn of mine is not solely based upon the chain of events nor the facts as I assumed them to be; where they didn’t add up to my expectations.

  Just as, I might mention, when people in general react whenever notice is made known of revealed lies. There is outrage; there is anger, and subtly there is a thirst for revenge.  Not for any crime committed to me personally, or even them, but rather for the crime of upset.

  Ours is a society where the thinking citizen has grown weary and intolerant to the lies being told as truth; where the common reply to challenge is rewriting history of events in order to suit the fabricated excuse.  Similar on the fringes are those deceptions in the no-help menus given to complainants towards resolution; they take us nowhere but frustrated resignation ~ as they were designed to do.

   It dawned on me, in one of those throes of discontent, that what was of issue was not that my expectations were thwarted, but that I had deceived myself into believing in a promise.  I surrendered my self confidence for the promise of rewarding desire.  Innocent enough I suppose; on the small things. But then, the small things are the foundation for the bigger are they not?

  A key ingredient of authenticity is unbiased processing; that being a disposition liberated from skewing evidence to serve an agenda of deceptive practices; authenticity means no lies.  The lies we believe in from the outside are just echoes from the lies we tell ourselves.  I place my trust in promises by others as substitute for trusting myself. When those promises are not kept, I am placed in crises. Who am I to believe, once I’ve chosen not to believe in me?

People Become Their Stories

`People become the stories they hear
and the stories they tell.`
-- Ellie Wiesel, Nobel Laureate

  I adore this comment for its brevity and simplicity; in addition, it resonates with what I have found to be true about the quirky nature of individuals attempting to find comfort and security amongst our others.

   At a recent dinner party the discussion flittered to the question over why I had chosen to study psychology?  I said that initially I had hoped to take the fast track to getting certified as a counselor in order to help soldiers coming back from the war with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD.  Alas, there is no such thing as fast-track when discussing the process of certifying counselors.  

  I revealed that mine was an education on not just techniques of the profession, but on the nature of its organization; a facet being the subtle control of becoming a practioners as important as developing a familiarity with helpful-healing techniques.  But as for today the topic is about the stories we each create.  I mentioned in the discussion that I came to appreciate all roads of seeking relief, begin with feeling fearful.  It develops into excessive worry, (anxiety disorders) or retreats into despair, (depression). Like it or not, those two represent the garden variety of most disorder afflictions that have sexy, performance unique names.  Certainly there are exceptions to the ultimate delineation of causes, be they chemical imbalances or environmental stress triggers that release disturbing DNA failsafe behaviors; it still remains a pretty dependable prediction that all roads lead from fear; just as all fear prompts us to solve. 

   The schools of concepts and propositions are replete with suggestions on why fear eclipses our better sense.  They have convincing evidence to support their preferred conclusions.  As for me, I found the skillful creation of identity is the most intriguing of escape plans; yet also the most difficult to keep up with. I think it depends on how complicated the details are, and of course, how divergent they might be from actual facts as to answering why life might get so difficult.  One thing is of certainty for me….the possibilities are endless.

Rendezvous with Asteroid 2012 DA14

Scientist and Media alike told the public there was nothing to be concerned about Asteroid 2012 DA14.  The media made sure there was no connection to this event and the far-fetched idea that the Mayans could accurately predicted the end of the world to happen in 2012; December 21^st came and went without incident. The facts were rebroadcast over the intervening months; the asteroid was projected to pass by Earth at a distance of 17,500 miles; a comparison to six times the distance between New York and Los Angeles.  “The asteroid’s path is understood well enough that there is no chance of a collision with the Earth” reported NASA.  That was accepted as gospel ~ until the unexpected occurred.

  The path of a recently launched North Korean Satellite had not been factored into the formal risk assessment.  Granted, the asteroid pulverized the satellite, but what wasn’t considered was the slight nudge the impact made; pushing the speeding rock closer to the Earth’s atmosphere; six decimeters to be exact. Now in retrospect mathematicians argued that had they known of that variable for their computations, then they too would have noticed and alerted the necessary authorities that the change would put the asteroid into an abrasive orbit with the planet; whose affect would be similar to a leaf slowly swirling in a drain; friction pulling the mass further into the atmosphere, which would then create more friction; that would then pull it even further towards the planet and a sharper trajectory would necessarily happen due to gravity. Before anyone could see such a possibility, the initial prediction was no longer valid. The asteroid would enter into the upper atmosphere of the earth triggering an irrepressible chain of physics. 

  Nor could they have predicted the asteroid composition was mostly a mixture of heavy metals resulting in a resistance to burning up on entry into the planets magnetic field and atmosphere; it actually performed in just the opposite way.  Unlucky as all of that was, and what wasn’t considered to any real degree of speculation, was DA14’s impact with Italy; right at Messina; totally separating Sicily from the main peninsula.  After that the horror would manifest in a resulting Tsunami doing its work along the Tunisian and Libyan coast; along with washing Monaco in Toto out to sea. Crete and Cyprus were completely submerged as were Majorca and Minorca. All of the sea side cities and villages along Turkey, Lebanon and Israel were totally devastated. The same fate arrived for pretty much all of the Spanish and French coastal towns that shared the Mediterranean.

   “How could we have known?” would be such a poor response to such a cataclysmic event.

Who Doesn't Want A Valentine?

Who does not want a Valentine?

The luster of romance

Who does not cherish love’s sweet kiss

Invokes the heart to dance.

A day, an hour, a wispy sigh

a favorite gentle dream

 the nurtured touch

kind tender words

serve delicate esteem.

As life does challenge

paradox

to work, our play achieve

to welcome comfort

zeal of life

our anxious hearts towards glee.

Let's pause

embrace

Thus fondness bring

The kindred loving ways

Hearts nature’s song, does celebrate

As Valentine this day.

Changed Geography

I've oft been cautioned about getting too involved in other people's drama; it being just a type of an addiction towards distraction.

   It can appear as such where getting tangled-up with external details affecting other people were merely antics of departure from tending my own frustrated desires and wishes; there’s adequate evidence that points in that direction anyway.
   Too much of anything strikes me as more dependable touch stone; balance appears to be a better choice than, say, indiscriminate sampling.  Yet there is also adequate life lessons suggesting avoidance can keep you safe; wherever that may be.

  Yet, if we are not a part of the whole, where being involved is requisite to feel as if we belong, then by definition skimming by superficially  makes us more separate; isn’t that the premise of mistaking selfish habits over mindfully coming to our senses?
  Perhaps I'm blabbering, but it is becoming clearer to me that by witness and by participation do we find which methods serve to help us 'feel better'. Sure, we can talk about the history of how we got to where we are; even conjecture on techniques for improved performance. But isn’t our desire to become more sensitive to what is true? To distill our way out of those habitual ways of evaluating ours, along with others, 'living conditions' as measure of value? How do you feel right now? Then, respond accordingly.
  It’s a great tickle to abandon the heretical standards of choosing by the limits of guilt, blame, or even fear of punishment.  Wouldn't any alternative be superior to those types of concerns? Perhaps more refined and robust experiences of living in wonder might be a better substitute?  I sure would think so, rather than the alternative function of decisions based on penalties implied as correct behavior?
   Consequence to a fresh new approach can be like a promise. And promises too can become an addictive distraction. An "only if…" orientation might somehow deliver an orgasmic need for rightness. If the desired end state is not achieved, then departure from modifying a habitual behavior can be justified; conclusion that explain failure to deliver on expectations; I didn’t get what I wanted. Ah, reward...how the vocabulary of captured thinking can color predictions? 

   We walk our dirt paths to feel the cool earth on our soles, as it were.  Yes, the occasional rock, or exposed root along the way urges caution whenever we trip over them. But never, in all my years of exploring the unknown ways, did the thought of giving up the walk strike me as a solution to those mishaps; I just figured out I best be more care full.

   Have a day of exploring and delightful discovery. And how about not anything more exotic than perceiving with loving eyes....wow, look at the changed geography.