tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50568477976143317342024-03-19T13:58:51.415-07:00Open Eyes in a Blind WorldEarthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-42736795552671423382009-02-21T10:07:00.000-08:002009-02-21T10:15:34.287-08:00Peter Marshall Quote<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvanSoGT4LRHF-PGTjL5WoVy9hcFJ7oa75BhizfpuIgROhPuDJtdkP4cpVevpNz1U-TVpWRalYqHf_0VdH4L-BpRduDx_i4yOIkPkz5aGJDPeXhrWqJyaSjDdWw4nIEtQY4MeCuZug348/s1600-h/petermarshal.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvanSoGT4LRHF-PGTjL5WoVy9hcFJ7oa75BhizfpuIgROhPuDJtdkP4cpVevpNz1U-TVpWRalYqHf_0VdH4L-BpRduDx_i4yOIkPkz5aGJDPeXhrWqJyaSjDdWw4nIEtQY4MeCuZug348/s400/petermarshal.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305314428078142450" /></a><br /><br />IT READS: <br /><b> WHEN WE LONG FOR LIFE WITHOUT DIFFICULTIES, REMIND US THAT OAKS GROW STRONG IN CONTRARY WINDS AND DIAMONDS ARE MADE UNDER PRESSURE."</B><br /><br />Artwork: <a href="http://mill1337.deviantart.com/art/Peace-As-a-Metaphor-28176799">Mill1337</a>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-41603851425740877242009-02-17T08:25:00.000-08:002009-03-20T07:30:24.399-07:00Fear: Witnessing Death Then Rejoycing<span style="font-size:180%;">I've</span> told the story of my grandfather's death to my friends for the last few days. Recounting each moment, remembering each second and everyone's faces and words. But I thought it would be important to document what happened. I want to remember a passing such as this. I need to be able to recall such a powerful lesson.<br /><br />When anyone asks us what our greatest fears are - we know. Snakes, spiders, being mugged, cars, etc. For me it has always been the fear of the unknown. It has crippled me in areas of my life that I am now moving sluggishly through; but I'm moving. The ultimate unknown is death.<br /><br />No one can come back and tell you what happens. None of the living know for sure what the dying are seeing or where they go. Everyone has their own idea but it's just that; an idea. For me, I feared one thing in perticular about death... the afterlife. I have always slept closest to the wall with my back to the room. I never wanted to open my eyes to see a ghostly figure standing there. The oddity of my fear is that I can pick up on presence quite easily and my senses are just sensitive to that kind of energy. Which I had decided a while back, was a curse to me. I wanted to leave it all unknown.<br /><br />So about 5 years ago, I came home to smell something burning in the kitchen. My Pop was trying to cook a hamburger but he forgot to put the pan between the burger and the stove. This was the begining for him. Progressively over the years he unlearned all that he had throughout his lifetime. Even adjusting the shower was too complicated. His end came when he forgot the importance of food and could not remember to swallow.<br /><br />I lived with Walter Ray for 17 years of my life. My childhood was spent in the house that he built with his own two hands. I watched him at his healthiest when grandma dragged him to square dancing and I watched his decline; when he dreadfully pushed a walker. Then I watched him forget his life, his friends and his functions.<br /><br />I'm sure watching the decline has helped a great deal in overcoming the loss of his spirit in this tangible world, though I'm not pleased that he had to decline so slowly as he did. But he was a man of great honor and respect. He felt he was put here on this earth to care for the crazy woman that is my grandmother and until death did they part, he hung on to make sure she was cared for.<br /><br />When we moved out of his house a year ago this month, my grandfather and his wife were taken to my aunts house where they were promised fast construction on an inlaw apartment. Seven months later, barely hanging on, Pop got to see the finished product. I think he needed to see that his wife would have her own safe place, if it wasn't going to be his house.<br /><br />February 6th, a Friday, we got a call that Pop wouldn't open his mouth to eat and that he was dehydrated and been brought to Farmington to stay in the hospital for a few days. What we thought would be 36 hour observation, turned very quickly.<br /><br />A family that had constantly bickered about his care couldn't finish their own arguement. <div>I stayed calm and collected for my mother. I drove her to Farmington that following Tuesday for the discharge family meeting but by then we had all realized that this wasn't a discussion of nursing homes anymore. It was a discussion of the end of someone's life. </div><br /><br />We sat in his room for an hour, talking to him instead of each other, waiting for the doctors to meet. When the family left to talk about his discharge, I moved to his bed side to talk to him. I squeezed his hand and told him to pinch me. He could not open his eyes so I got a cloth to wipe away the sleep.<br /><br />His hearing aids were gone and his teeth were at home. He looked like a little old man if I ever saw one. Not my little old man of course. I hardly recognized that man. But he had good color and he was fidgetting as I spoke to him.<br /><br />I leaned in close and told him what I thought everyone else had forgotten to. I said, "you're kids are in a meeting with your wife. They are all being nice to each other, you know. Everyone's getting along right now. And we're all thinking it's time for you to take a vacation. You've worked very hard and it doesn't seem like you've relaxed. We all just want you to relax now. You know Linda and Lorraine haven't always gotten along, but you know that Linda will take care of her. She has always taken care of your wife whether she liked her or not. I know you're worried about your wife but I, Carolyn, and Linda, will watch out for her. We want you to go to the beach and sunbathe. We want you to go fishing and driving. Don't you think it's time to do that?"<br /><br />He started to snore a little and playfully I responded, "hey! Are you snoring? I'm talking to you! I'm not that boring, am I?" For a quick flash, he smirked at me. I laughed at him and said, "well, you know I'm being serious. You need to stop worrying so much. Everything's going to be okay."<br /><br />When the family came back in, he settled down. It was explained that they would remove the IV and he would be released to my aunt's house where hospice would be there to care for him for his final days. It happened so quickly, I feel that we were all just trying to keep up. I touched Grandma's shoulder as the doctor explained what was going to happen.<br /><br />My mom got close to his face and said, "I'm going to let you get settled in tonight. They're takin you home to Susan... I'll see you tomorrow."<br /><br />And he waited. Because he was brought home that night and Susan sat up with him. We both went to work, expecting we had a week or maybe two left with him. Susan called looking for more sheets and things to make him comfortable. It proved that in these hours, there was just no room for animosity. We took longer than expected, getting supplies and my mom had told them all to wait until she got there to change his bed. She wanted to show them an easy and comfortable way to do it.<br /><br />This was one of many small things that just happened to fall into place that week. We got there late - around 7pm. They were just changing him when we came in, saying "we tried to wait but you were taking so long." The disturbance of moving him around made him aggitated and his breathing was heavy and his eyes were open wide but there was nothing behind them. This is what I saw when I walked into the room.<br /><br />My mom tells me that her sister looked at her and asked, "what's happening?" My mom answered truthfully, "he's stroking. This is it." Without another word Susan and Brian both laid on top of their father while my mom held his head. This is how I found them when I came back upstairs.<br /><br />Brian wanted to straighten him out and I watched them uncurl him and pull his blanket to his chin. 7:26p and the room was silent for a minute. The surrealness of it all couldn't have been harder to grasp. I stared at him waiting to see his chest rise and fall but it never did. I felt like my eyes were playing tricks on me. Susan and Brian stroked him as if to send him off to sleep, but I knew he couldn't feel them.<br /><br />We sat in that room with him for an hour. Something I thought I could never do. Something I thought I could never see. Something I felt more strongly than ever about though, was to stay there. Through it all I remember thinking, this is a lesson for me. I must witness it all. There is too much I do not understand or know. I felt compelled to be there for every moment. And I was.<br /><br />It turned lighthearted faster than I expected. Zach made coffee and offered me some Captain Morgan but I passed. They all started reminiscing and soon realized the kids were awake, and they knew. Susan let them see their grandfather and Olivia cried the hardest, I'm not sure the rest comprehended, though Olivia was the youngest.<br /><br />We sent them back upstairs and when the nurse and funeral home guys showed up, I saw the gurney come by and soon joined the kids upstairs. They had waited for Jessie and I took her daughter Emma up with the other kids. But not before saying goodbye. Everyone bent down and kissed his head. My mom went right before me, kissed him and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."<br />I was the last to touch him. Scared that everyone was leaving the room but reminding myself that it was just him. I kissed him too and said, "Bye Pop."<br />I ran upstairs and waited for them to load Pop up to take him out.<br /><br />Taylor Swift played on the CD player as I told them all to sit on the floor. Grayson yelped in my arms and I was the only one who watched them take Pop out. Through the window I could see his sleeping self going down the steps. They didn't close the bag, not even when they put him in the car... For that I was thankful. He just looked like they were taking him to the hospital to get better. I was singing, swaying a baby as I watched this.<br /><br />Now that it's over, we are relieved. The images haunt me more than the loss but I suspect that will get better with time. I eventually cried, but it wasn't until I got home that night. The next day I went to pick out a suit for him with my mom at the house. The winds were so fierce and strong and my mom kept talking to him outloud. I felt like the winds were a rush of an exhale he's been trying to take for years!<br /><br />My mom and I stopped at the beach. She took my arm and we walked to the end of the jetti so she could say goodbye in the last spot they hung out in before he got sick. The waves crashed hard and the wind blew us backwards. I don't think he wanted her to stand there and be sad, so we took a moment and then we left.<br /><br />Seeing his obituary in the paper stung a little but we are excited to bring him to Arlington to lay among heroes, like himself. The Bells and us are communicating well and insults have been replaced with hugs and jokes.<br /><br />I believe that Pop waited for us, that I was supposed to see it all and that God removed me from the room for a scary part I couldn't have handled. We really are celebrating his freedom more than anything and perhaps this change in my history will affect me for the rest of my life.<br /><br />I do get sad but my ambition and independence has spiked noticably. When he is laid to rest on his birthday, March 12th perhaps I will have a different kind of change in my life. Maybe it will be a softer form of closure... But for now, I am thankful that he let us say goodbye together and that he provoked an outpouring of love I have never witnessed from my bloodline.<br /><br /><center>There is more happiness surrounding this passing than greif and I am the most thankful for that.<br /><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v483/earthangie/pop.jpg" /><br /><b>Walter Ray Carter<br />March 12th, 1927 - February 11th, 2009</b><br /></center>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-3705237435532277542009-02-02T12:18:00.000-08:002009-02-02T13:19:26.603-08:00Manifest Destiny?<em>This is a response to the Teacher's recent article: </em><a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200902/self-sabotage-and-getting-be-right"><em>Self-Sabotage and Getting to be Right</em></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span><strong>oday's </strong>article is not about the 19th-century doctrine! You sillies! It was about self-perception and basically how our <a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200808/core-truths-core-beliefs-and-obstacles-progress-pt-2">Core Beliefs </a>dictate the way we navigate through life.<br /><br /><blockquote><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">To summarize the Teacher's seperate article on Core Belief's, in his words,<br />here is an idea of what they are:<br /></span></em>"As we filter our experience through assumptions, expectations and<br />ideas, we create belief systems - our Core Beliefs. Core Beliefs lead us to<br />develop Active Beliefs - how we operate in the world - that consequently drive<br />the Outcomes that recursively support and sustain our Core Truths."</p></blockquote><br /><br />If you've ever read or seen <a href="http://www.thesecret.com/">The Secret</a>, you'll completely understand the concept of 'manifesting' things into your life.<em> </em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(For the sake of this response article, I will refer to the teachings of The Secret as fact.)</span><br /><br /></em>While we would like to think that the world is full of unlucky accidents, The Secret, as well as many other Eastern ideas, remind us that the worlds energy is woven a lot more intricatly than we're giving it credit for.<br /><br />Using this particular example, The Secret explores the idea that <em>everything</em> in your life is brought there by you and only you... including illness. I have friends who live and die by this philosophy and other's who find fault in this idea that we'd "wish" cancer upon ourselves.<br /><br />Though the friendly debate among friends has gone back and forth, the idea wasn't based on "wishes" at all. Through our actions and choices, even our train of thought, we magnet things to us even if they are uninvited.<br /><br />We alone signal misfortune our way. As we roll out of bed and trip over a dog dish, the moment we decide, "this is the day I'm going to have", then guess what? We'll have it. It won't be a coincidence that you get cut off, then get stuck behind the bus, get the last sludged cup of coffee and trip going up the stairs. The idea is that you brought it on yourself.<br /><br />Self-sabatoge is pretty self-explainitory. I have to hear about how I 'get in my own way' all the time. Just because I don't like that it's said doesn't mean it isn't the honest truth, because it is. The safest example is always the math example. I was a crap student in math my entire acedemic career. As I got older, the equations only became more confusing. So when it came to money, I never balanced my check book and when I paid for something, I rounded up instead of paying exact change. I'd ask a friend how much that sweater will come to when the discount hits and run to my phone for a tip calculator. Today, I work in accounting. Go figure.<br /><br />I got this hand held game for Nintendo DS called Brain Age. Which I was afraid to play because they were all math problems and criticle thinking puzzles. But the premises of the game is that you play it everyday to exersize your brain and it will tell you what age your brain is fuctioning at. Well after playing the game for a few months, I realized that I was just learning math a different way. I was determined to get the best scores and beat my records. Because I changed my attitude I learned things I should've been learning YEARS ago!<br /><br />Learning about this concept is one thing, because it's usually something we find to be automatic. Our thoughts just pop up, right? So how can we control them? They are just there. No, they are there because we are so USED to them being there. Once we realize we have the power to change our thought patterns, I found it can feel like a confusing place to begin. You CAN help how you think.<br /><br />I discovered a good way to begin this new course of thought is with a simple daily (or weekly) exersize. I purchased the <a href="http://www.borders.com/online/store/TitleDetail?sku=158270208X">Gratitude book </a>from Borders (a product of The Secret fad) because it was shiney and gold, but any journal will do!<br /><br /><blockquote><p><span style="color:#3333ff;"><span style="color:#339999;">Take a journal and on the right side of the page, you write all the things that<br />you are thankful for that day. This begins a positive thought process.<br /><br />Then on the opposite page write down things that you are thankful for that have not<br />happened yet. (i.e. if you're looking for a good job, you'd write every day "I<br />am thankful for the awesome job I have").<br /><br />Writing things out, repeatedly, as if you have them helps to direct your thinking. Like anything you hear over and over again, it will start to stick.<br />This is also a great way to lift yourself when you are feeling low because the right side of the page are all reminders of things you have already aquired that bring you joy.</span> </span></p></blockquote><br /><br />Manifest the perfect destiny for yourself. If things go sour along the way, you'll be too busy recognizing all the good things present in your life to feel the heavy blow.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">"Be the changes you wish to see in the world." ~Ghandi</span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3371/3240737497_007c52720f_m.jpg" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Be the changes you wish to see in YOUR own world as well.</span> </div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-6455704146573960882008-12-08T21:07:00.000-08:002008-12-08T21:37:37.421-08:00Virtual AccomplishmentsI'm typing on a bite-sized computer that was bought because my brother took over the family one and my mother let him. I'm sleeping in a bedroom I share with my mom because we don't have enough money to each have our own space. I work at two jobs that demand more from me then they are willing to pay me for. And I am friends with people who don't usually want to hang out with me. So I go to therapy to talk about how small I feel I'm treated. The Teacher says he thinks I feel worthless. I say, not worthless but worth more than anyone can bare to see and confused that they can't see it. Frustrated that they can't even smell it. When I get mad at all these people I think, "they'd only be sad if they were at my funeral with their 'shoulda-woulda-coulda's." Like any good artist.... My artistry - my life... I wonder if it will be worth anything until I loose my mind in sadness, cut off my ear and pass away poor.<br /><br />Distraction is our greatest aide, whether we realize this or not. In times of trouble, we mentally relocate and throw ourselves into work, meditate to green pastures, take on a hobby or project. Even something as small as walking into the scenary in our book, or loosing ourselves inside a suspensful movie... it's all there to turn our heads.<br /><br />I suddenly realized that 'gamers' are no different. Eight to seventy-eight, all colors, all sizes flip a switch and the ping ping of a start up screen can flash away frustrations. Recently I connected my Nintendo 64 back up. I had to put it in the living room because the cables on my tv upstairs didn't work. So for many hours the last couple of days, I've been coming home from work and parking right there by the Christmas tree.<br /><br />When work aggitated me and lectures followed me home about my high expections, my inability to leave room for peoples quirks and never having someone worry about mine, I couldn't help but stress the importance of beating the next level in Zelda64: Ocarina of Time.<br /><br />I killed Link again and again, watching his body flash red as my fingers kept sliding off the joystick from holding it so tightly and sweating in sheir effort and anticipation. If I couldn't handle my friends right, if I couldn't figure my boss out, if I couldn't overcome my own obsessions and manage my own emotions... well I was dammed if I was going to let some big nosed ghost on a horse throwing fire balls at me, take me down.<br /><br />The good news is, I beat the temple. I felt a sense of accomplishment I hadn't felt in a while. I tole myself, "wow, I figured that all out without cheating or giving up." I did get stuck on one part to which I ran upstairs and asked the boys what to do. But then again, so it goes for life... sometimes we can't do it ALL alone. And as crazy as my relationships with my friends tend to be... I get by with a little help from them all.<br /><br />My grandmother was removed from her house 7 months ago. She was brought into my aunt's angry, cold household full of tough love and kids under 12. She lost her car, her house, her independence and her respect. Don't get all teary now, she was no angel ANY of her years of life. But as the Trungpa would remind us, "we all have basic goodness." And it's in that goodness that I see my grandmother hurting for real, feeling trapped and caged. Feeling terrible and unwanted. Her only friend, now too delusional to even hold a spoon to his lips, never mind hear her gripe just one more time... Now that she actually needs it.<br /><br />I called her after thanksgiving for her 78t birthday and asked her how she was. She talked about alot but it wasn't anything. Food and wallpaper and how she thinks they are stealing her money. The ways she used to tell them how we did that to her... Only this time I think it's true.<br /><br />You know that question you've all been asked... What would you grab if your house was on fire and family was all safe? Well, in a sense I asked that. In a 5 bedroom house chalk full of tapes and memories and pictures, I asked her if I could grab anything for her. Did she want anything with her that she was really missing. Do you know what she asked for?<br /><br />She said, "Carolyn, please bring me my Playstation."<br /><br />We are all the same. Wanting, needing, loving, loosing, growing, falling. From eight to seventy-eight.<br /><br />She wanted to play Cesar's Palace. I said, "of course."<br /><br /><br /><center><img src="http://www.zerohoursleep.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/grandma.PNG" /></center>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-38089788477137648052008-11-05T11:39:00.000-08:002008-11-05T11:42:11.461-08:00Wear the Hope<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurDDjdgZHKsqi34jrMCtW-Q5Cb3OjSr0cKzt8zT7daP_JTloq62n6oE0yeNqtd8dpAf5c7jlDj4YGygq6l8aza655i_ut9202LvAEtRXkP_SxWwO9GT04T-8k-cIaZRqvmXW8rE6v5wY/s1600-h/changequote.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265260957014625106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurDDjdgZHKsqi34jrMCtW-Q5Cb3OjSr0cKzt8zT7daP_JTloq62n6oE0yeNqtd8dpAf5c7jlDj4YGygq6l8aza655i_ut9202LvAEtRXkP_SxWwO9GT04T-8k-cIaZRqvmXW8rE6v5wY/s400/changequote.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>I took a design I found on Cafepress.com and put Obama's quote on it just for this post. But there are shirts, buttons, stickers and more awesome displays... All should check it out....</div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://shop.cafepress.com/design/30039945">http://shop.cafepress.com/design/30039945</a></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-41976893400144921022008-11-05T09:06:00.000-08:002008-11-05T09:16:36.834-08:00For the New Obama Nation; For Us All<div><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrTXbJugxoOJXPRVuB1Zb-pkV-GFNhf-bBmOjNw5SUXQNcargrq1RbsEIV40epY2OWVA-oUTRRCUSFzc3f4ttEp4gr_Zs73PByZoUb_Wj3KLYvkwdphQa_BmYwfH5dqgEngFjZ6D6l2Y/s1600-h/thankyou.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265222019286709234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrTXbJugxoOJXPRVuB1Zb-pkV-GFNhf-bBmOjNw5SUXQNcargrq1RbsEIV40epY2OWVA-oUTRRCUSFzc3f4ttEp4gr_Zs73PByZoUb_Wj3KLYvkwdphQa_BmYwfH5dqgEngFjZ6D6l2Y/s400/thankyou.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>Good Morning America.</strong></span><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Welcome</span> to a new day,<br />a new dawn and a new era. Welcome to the nation so many of us thought we could really be. For every person who believed that America is the land of the free and home of the brave; they could rejoyce together last night, November 4th, 2008 when Sen. Barack Obama was announced the 44th President of the United States of America.<br /><br />The day after has mixed feelings for those who ran strongly with McCain, but even he, in an admirable stance of class, congratulated Obama instead of demanding a recount. He calmly asked his supporters to put away their anger and come together to help rebuild a nation that is so painfully in shambles. He shushed their 'boo's' and asked them, 'please, my friends' and shook his head like an understanding father. Sarah Palin did not speak, but instead smiled through pressed lips as tears welled in her eyes. Her husband, Todd Palin, held her hand.<br /><br />McCain acknowledged the racially charged feel of the running and asked that his followers understand what that meant for every Obama supporter, as well as every African American in the nation. He spoke as though he believed none of his supporters were racist, though we all know (and he knows) that much of that is quite the opposite. In a subtle and cautious way, he reminded the people that tollerance, differences and minds make us the desirable nation that we are. It was his way of asking them all, not to hate. Though I think his plea fell on a few deaf ears, we can only hope he did not create such a monster to separate our people. McCain stated, "Barack Obama is now my president as well as yours," humbling himself before the crowd.<br /><br />Barack Obama walked on stage in Chicago's Grant Park with his wife, Michelle, and their two girls. A bittersweet victory for the 47 year old senator. His personally inspirational grandmother's passing, still fresh in his mind from only a day prior. The day before the election, she passed away before seeing him walk the stage as the elect President... Though we all knew he would.<br /><br />Midnight marked the beginning of a half hour long speech to his newly awarded public. His family stood in the background beside a row of magestic American flags. He looked as though he would cry when he thanked every volunteer, every $5 donation, every youth who spoke, every supporter who knocked on doors in sweltering heat and blistering cold... For every American who carried his dream with him. The audience watching in silence and in awe as change had finally come to America. Tears streamed down faces of celebrities like Jesse Jackson and citizens such as one young girl who dropped to her knees, holding her head in her hands. A married couple kissed, a gay couple bowed their heads and an entire people felt included; individualized. </div><br /><br /><blockquote><br /><br /><p>"It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in<br />numbers this nation has never seen, by people who waited three hours and four<br />hours, many for the first time in their lives, because they believed that this<br />time must be different, that their voices could be that difference.<br /><br />It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor,<br />Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay,<br />straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the<br />world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a<br />collection of red states and blue states.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We are, and always will be, the United States of America."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>~President Barack Obama (Nov 5th,2008 Acceptance Speech. Chicago, IL)</em></span><br /><br /></p></blockquote><br /><br /><div>So now I look upon a man who addresses my friends, my superiors, my family and m<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNzK991U5lEYMhhSsXgb9MFo_KLuujeliXjWzxsRLLV8Cq0v5ScdBCarc-QpCOAsPGikF9aZc3QPXd_goE585ol-dVSchYOGqs2TpVOO_2OTHRCqzGDrlJSAMwRZM-6PoF9u4TRTl-mA/s1600-h/billclinton1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265223133051990978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 129px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNzK991U5lEYMhhSsXgb9MFo_KLuujeliXjWzxsRLLV8Cq0v5ScdBCarc-QpCOAsPGikF9aZc3QPXd_goE585ol-dVSchYOGqs2TpVOO_2OTHRCqzGDrlJSAMwRZM-6PoF9u4TRTl-mA/s400/billclinton1.jpg" border="0" /></a>yself. I look at a man who promises to try everything in his power to clean up the mess the Bush administration left for him. Though I cannot imagine where he plans to start, his uphill climb will be heavy and his progress will be slow. But there are fellow American's like Bill Clinton, who continue to work towards change, who will stand and work with him. The F student has finally been removed and the valivictorian can take care of business.<br /><br />I was never loud about my support for Obama, not because I wasn't proud - I was. But because such a heated battle between parties had not been seen in my lifetime, nor shall it come to pass again anytime soon. I spoke with those who were receptive to his mission or his views because as we should all know, it's near impossible to those who have been set in their ways.<br /><br />Though we have our Democratic and Repulican parties, I'm proud that the people finally paid attention. Whether Democrats were for McCain or Republican's were for Obama doesn't matter. What matters is that so many of us stepped out of line, didn't follow the lead and made up our minds about what the nation needs instead of who's face would be framed in office.<br />So 'Good morning America', and welcome to the start of a new era. To every person who felt they had no say, I cry with you. To every person who felt different and discriminated, I rejoyce with you. To everyone who really wants equality... We bow together.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">And may God bless America.</span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265222869286517042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 92px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sGkJwzcApPnAy-5Wse60ZlzTFtyx8_VD8qVFYiuL3b0eclDjqCodQJge2H1_LR8Mykh8ng5NE_oUovb7JGIIkgPhkacLy2stsRAcMaD6Sk-w65MIugyE99VkXiYyipllsC3TCMxctHU/s400/believe.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Yes... We Can.</span></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-69185586429871957752008-11-03T05:37:00.000-08:002008-11-05T06:40:45.192-08:00The Great Flood... Of CircumstanceWhere there is an ending, a beginning must soon follow. So when part of your world dies, a new world, for you, is reborn. The floods have come into my life, finally filling it to the brim and as I look over the deck of my make-shift ark (no where near as fabulous as Noah's...), I see the waters are receding. My new landscape may be muddy, things in the wrong places, a bit challenging to work with but alas, flushed and anew, none the less.<br /><br /><br /><br />It's that feeling you get when you've finally paid off your car loan and you have extra money this month to take a friend out for dinner and kick back. It's that feeling that washes over you after being lost for an hour and finally turning the corner to a safe, familiar road and your destination is right in front of you, glowing magestically. Better yet, that feeling of rocks rolling off your shoulders when you break up with that dependent other (whether friend or lover...).<br /><br /><br /><br />They say you've reached the bottom of your hole when you stop digging. They say it can always get worse... that is, if you keep picking up the shovel. But if everyone could see how fantastic dropping the shovel really feels, I mean really... who worlds would shift.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have been the caregiver to many people and there have been a share that have been a caregiver to me. When we give and take in our relationships in an equal and positive way, we are able to always climb higher and endure more. When one party starts to slip, it is not in my nature to leave them behind. But if they are careless with their backwards steps, it is our duty to do our best for them and when no progress can be made, we must let them go.<br /><br />Some of us are bound by depression, money problems or an unfulfilling relationship. Some of us don't like our jobs or our friends don't appreciate us. Some of us are sick, some of us are tired. But as long as we make the promise to ourselves to never give in to those things, even at our lowest hour, even if we are crying our eyes out... we will be okay.<br /><br />I don't wake up every morning thinking that the world is incredible. I wake everyday with the expection that if I keep working at it, one day - I will wake up and the world will be incredible to me. That is all I can work towards because that is not an unattainable goal. Not for me. Not for anyone.Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-44613511101562692992008-09-19T10:47:00.001-07:002008-09-19T13:21:05.652-07:00When We Change the Rules<blockquote><p><strong>eth·ics</strong> - Pronunciation [eth-iks]</p><p><em>2.the rules of conduct recognized in<br />respect to a particular class of human actions or a particular group, culture,<br />etc.:</em> medical ethics; Christian ethics.<br /><em>4.(usually used with a singular verb)<br />that branch of philosophy dealing with values relating to human conduct, with<br />respect to the rightness and wrongness of certain actions and to the goodness<br />and badness of the motives and ends of such actions.</em></p></blockquote><br /><br /><br />When is it okay to change your moral code? At this point, is it fair to say that everything is negotiable? If your husband beats you but the neighbor treats you sweetly, is it okay to cheat on your husband? If the rules say that a teacher can't let a student in their car, but then the student is stranded at school after practice in the dark, is it okay to bring the student home?<br /><br /><blockquote><p><strong>faux pas</strong> <a class="pronlink" onmouseover="status='Click to toggle pronunciation';return true;" title="Click to show spelled pronunciation" onclick="javascript:show_sp()" onmouseout="status='';return true;">Spelled Pronunciation</a> [foh pahz; Fr. foh pah] <br /><br /><em>1. a slip or blunder in etiquette, manners, or conduct;<br />an embarrassing social blunder or indiscretion.</em> </p></blockquote><br /><br />Ah, social faux pas. Homosexuality is considered a faux pas. Does that make it wrong? Is everyone entitled to their own definition of 'ethics'? The faux pas part is knowing that maybe the majority knows it's a 'no, no'. But isn't it fair to say that if it's not going to hurt anyone or yourself then it can't be all that bad?<br /><br />I guess I've been in this place enough times to know that there's a time to tell people what you're up to and there's a time to keep it private. If everyone tells you something is wrong but you don't feel like it's wrong, is it wrong? God, I sound like a pediphile.<br /><br />I dated a guy that was younger than me once, by four years. He was 16 and far more sexually active than I had been. Was it wrong to want to date him because I was not his age? Some people thought so but we were like any other couple.<br /><br />I dated a guy that was 32 when I was 20. I couldn't even drink at the bar with him. There were many people who thought there was something wrong with <em>him</em> for wanting to date me. Why didn't they think there was something wrong with <em>me </em>for wanted to date <em>him?</em><br /><br />So breaching on social philosphies here, who's to say? Of course boundaries are usually set up for protection. Either protection of the people involved or of the people who could potentially be harmed, should the parties step outside of boundary.<br /><br />I think the decision should be weighed on what it means to your life and the other party. If you are scared to leave your crazy husband and this other man is with you and gives you strength and courage, then your life is in less turmoil. And hopefully the end result is that the healthier party (if that is what this other man represents), will be there to transition you out of your old life and into a better one. That justifies it, doesn't it? What if you just want the best of both worlds? Can you justify that? And why do you have to and who do you have to justify it to? If a kid gets a ride home from a teacher instead of sitting in the dark in a deserted parking lot, doesn't that justify getting in the car? To aide. To help. To guide. To enhance our lives in some way to make them better. As long as no one is getting hurt, dead, bleeding or on fire.<br /><br />I'm not going to tell you to go sell children for trade to make a buck to make your riches better. No, it's the judgement of weighing the good with the bad and making the executive decision to put people first. People before boundaries, before laws, before rules for the greater good. Maybe theirs and maybe yours.<br /><br />Does that also mean then, if I break social rules and then, in turn, am harmed by the rules that I ignored, that I should receive no aide? I believe in that instance, then my friend-community would bend their own ethics/morals temporarily because they love me and would help me until the situation were over, then remind me why the boundaries were there in the first place.<br /><br />It's socially unexceptable to show up to work drunk and yet people do it. Does that mean if your best friend started showing up drunk and lost his job, you would say, "well you knew that was wrong!" You'd probably try and help him, get him into AA or even so much as talk to him when he told you he'd lost everything. Even though you know what he did was wrong, he was still someone you cared about and therefore, you alter a bit to meet in the middle. Is that not also okay?<br /><br />I guess I've always been the person to bend boundaries and break the rules, usually for my own benefit but also because I believe that people, above all, are everything. People matter. Even though I get so angry at so many of them... When we work together and care for each other, that's how this world heals. Because if you heal one, they will heal the next, who will heal the one after.<br /><br />I think sometimes, it's okay to break the rules. Even if you can't tell anyone about it.<br /><br /><center><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/212/448172823_da8c65e30b_m.jpg" /></center>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-35448093402458653892008-08-14T06:21:00.000-07:002008-08-14T11:52:59.410-07:00Why Jedi's Always Win and Never DieSitting with the Teacher yesterday, the topic of attachment hit the discussion board. I had read in various places that love, kindness and honor were the vehicles to lead us to ultimate freedom. So we must love the people in our lives and the people of the world. But I began to confuse the lines between attachment and love. Aren't we attached to the ones we love? How can a person <em>not </em>be attached to their loved ones? Doesn't attachment equal love? The Teacher said that we must detach in order to love in the most powerful way. How is 'detaching' a way of getting closer? I didn't understand; I was mixing something up.<br /><br />So I said, "may I reference Star Wars?" And he, of course, nodded.. knowing most any reference I can dish.<br /><br />"So Anakin Skywalker is training to become a Jedi and he has fallen in love with Padme. Yoda or Obiwan (I forget), tells him that their union is not allowed. In short, attachment leads to the dark side. He must remain unattached in order to stay connected to the force without interference. Why were the Jedi not allowed to love?"<br /><br />But the Jedi <em>were </em>allowed to love, it was just how you carried your love that mattered. The Teacher explained to me that what Yoda knew about 'the force' matched up with what Buddhists know about <em>the universe. </em>The reason why the 'bad guys' (Sith) were the bad guys, were because they had too much fear in their hearts. And as we all know, "Fear is the path to the dark side."<br /><br />The one liner couldn't be more dead on. Fear is the path to the dark side for many reasons. For one, fear creates insecurity and insecurity can go one of two ways. You can either be sad/shy about it or be angry about it. Anger and violence is based largly, (if not solely), on the fears of people.<br /><br />Speaking in terms of attachment, fear is the star here as well. When we love something we tend to do everything in our power to keep it close, to hold it tight and never let go. The idea that we may loose this, drives the wrong kind of attachment. It boils down to the fear of death or loss.<br /><br />The Star Wars example fits beautifully here. Anakin had dreams that Padme was going to die and rather than accepting this fate and spending time with her, he used his energy to find a way to go against the chosen path of the universe to 'save' her. His fear of loss over took his senses and in the end, not only did he loose his love but also his dignity, his name, his entire person.<br /><br />"The reason," the Teacher went on, "that letting go of something brings us closer is because we've come to terms that we are going to loose that object at one point or another. Everyone is going to die. No one knows why humans who are surrounded by death have not come to terms with this but we have to find a way because you're forgetting that you are only loosing the physical." He beat his heart with a clenched fist and shook his head as the thud off his rib cage surprised me.<br /><br />"Our souls come down from Heaven or whatever people want to call it.... And they manifest into bodies and when the bodies are no more, the energy of the soul goes back into the air, back into the sky and that soul is still thriving and never dies. It's everywhere and it's with you...<br />Why do you think that when Darth Vadar takes off his helmet he's all gross and decaying? Because he's holding on to the physical and can't let that go! Jedi's never decay, they disappear back into the universe (or the Force) where they can join the energy and move on to the next mission."<br /><br />Hmm. Well put.<br /><br />So the point is, when you stop clutching your loved ones, with knuckles white, both of you will be able to breathe. You'll be free from the stress of worrying about loosing them because in reality, you already know that day is going to come. Instead, you spend time appreciating who they are today and you actually love them more by concentrating on the moment. And in this moment, if you are alive and well, you should be laughing together and being... in the moment.<br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><strong>May the Force be with you.</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/16/22994544_cd88bcc6f3_m.jpg" /></div><div align="center"><em>"Do or do not, there is no try."</em></div><div align="center"><em>~Master Yoda</em></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-38044920775329989902008-08-05T18:59:00.001-07:002008-08-05T19:11:34.288-07:00The Cracked Pot<blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Every day, a farmer carried two pots to the river to fetch water. Each pot hung on the end of a pole across his shoulders. The pot on his right side was new and perfect. The pot on his left side was older and had a crack in its side.<br /><br />The new pot brought back all the water the farmer put into it. But the cracked pot leaked out water in a little trail. This went on day after day for two years. The little cracked pot felt terrible. "I am so ashamed of my imperfection!" One day, it spoke to the farmer. "I must apologize. I only deliver half of my load because I leak out water all the way back to your house. You should just get rid of me!"<br /><br />The farmer said, "Do not despair. Look behind you. Do you not see those beautiful flowers along the path? Those are on the left side where I carry you. I knew about your special feature so I planted flower seeds, and you have watered those seeds as I walked home.<br />Thanks to you, I have fresh flowers for my table. Thank you, little cracked pot. You are very special."<br /><br />Excerpt from<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Treasure in Your Heart Yoga and Stories for Peaceful Children</span><br />(The Mythic Yoga Studio, 2008)<span style="font-style: italic;">.<br /><br /><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/34/72792745_d853a40e6d_m.jpg" /><br /></span></blockquote>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-11239731754264837592008-08-05T11:02:00.000-07:002008-08-05T11:51:37.710-07:00Forgiveness: Even if, Even if, You Don't Love Me Anymore<span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>I</strong> </span>had to quote that song in my title. "Just thinkin' about... FORGIVENESS!" Quite a soulful peice don't you think? Severely appropriate for the matters at hand. True forgiveness can be nothing BUT soulful, right? It takes you down to humility, past grudges, into a tenderness and vulnerability that could reject you but you cannot let that stop you. We're talking about what comes of the ashes of forgiveness and that, my darlings, is your freedom.<br /><br />On my lunch hour I decided to forget about the car, take my lunch under a tree and read from my <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/">Yoga Journal</a> magazine that I picked up Grand Central about a month or two ago. I scanned through some old articles I had already read on the train.<br /><br />One story (off topic) that was cute and noteworthy was a Hindu tale I will retype in the following post. So look for that! It is entitled, "<em>The Cracked Pot</em>". More lessons, people. Can't stop them!<br /><br />Today the focus is on forgiveness. With my Teacher's ears and eyes far away this week, I felt the need to produce my own lesson. As he has diligently provided tasks, mantras and questions for me each week, I paniced momentarily wondering where to put my energy in a week with no guidence.<br /><br />Were he here right now he would roll his eyes, smile and say, "<em>Oh please,</em> <em>you have the tools, you have the power... and you KNOW it." </em>So in efforts to make him look good, (ha ha), I read up on something that could touch anyone. This brought me to the Forgiveness article.<br /><br />The title, <em>"Forgiveness Heals: When you forgive a long-held grievance, you open the door to true freedom" </em>could do nothing but catch your eye.<br />First you think, "a way to forgive? Do tell." Because it seems that such a word provokes more obsticles than miracles in most lives. (There's that ego getting in the way of moving forward again.)<br />Then you think, "heals? I could use some of that." Because who couldn't?<br /><br /><br /><blockquote><em><strong>"When your heart forgives, it has stepped beyond the ego to grasp your<br />innate kinship -- even your identity -- with another person."<br /></strong>(YogaJournal - Kempton 55)<br /></em></blockquote><br />But like all mindful practices, forgiveness is not a one shot deal. The words, "I forgive you" don't escape you and suddenly you are lifted. It's more of a movement inside of you. In many cases of mindful practice, making a consious decision is your core value. This time, it's different. As forgiveness is present in the prefrontal cortex of the brain, your mind is conditioned to handle the harboring of this negative feeling in an entirely different catagory.<br /><br />Before you begin thinking of how you want to forgive or even why, you want to think of WHO it is you want to forgive. Who is the first crippling enemy that comes to your mind? Was it an abusive father, backstabbing friend or a cheating lover? What about the boy that beat your son to death?<br /><br />All of these scenarios play out in this article only to draw us back to one thing... basic goodness. To anyone who has read this blog before, or whoever else cares, I've mention <em>Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior </em>by Trungpa. This book and most enlightened teachings go back to basic goodness. In every monster there is a child. In every cold heart, was a person who wanted to be loved and perhaps was forgotten. We must remember, even if their deed was done with ill-intent, there is part of them that has faultered because of human nature.<br /><br />An old friend that has hurt you, may not have done it purposely. This is the first part of the process. Who do you want to forgive? What did they do? Was it really about you? Was it really about how it would hurt you? We retreat back to asking ourselves questions. ALWAYS ask yourself what's <em>really </em>going on here.<br /><br />In choosing to open our hearts to forgiveness, yes, we jeopardize a sense of security but at what cost? Perhaps you will be back stabbed again by another, perhaps human nature is unavoidable and you may get hurt again. But in forgiveing the negative parts in others, (some of which we may subconciously see in ourselves), we DO forgive ourselves. It even feels good sometimes to say, "I'm sorry."<br /><br />Being strong in this world, being aware and living free will not always mean the things you are practicing are comfortable. But in relinquishing our choice for a fluffy cushion, we may gain the power to fly through the clouds.<br /><br />Like climbing a mountain, scrapped, bleeding and weather worn, look over the edge at the most magnificant view and for a moment pain is suspended and you are devine.<br /><br />Think hard about who you should forgive today, and do it. Letting go of the anger, releases the tag hanging around your neck that reads, "<em>Victim".</em><br /><em></em><br /><em><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/1/184720748_9d4d9e2a12_m.jpg" /></em>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-4582838809546169772008-07-23T11:26:00.000-07:002008-07-23T11:39:15.680-07:00Rain Immitates LifeI've had the feeling lately that I'm disconnected with my surroundings, the people and the environments in which I reside. From work, to home, to the streets, I am not fitting the peices together right at all.<br /><br />I've found myself in the angriest of places on the road, at home and of course, at work. The cycle topples over itself again and again. A displeasure of events and no cure or reason connected to it.<br /><br />The days have been warm and sunny. I've been sour for not being part of them, stuck behind a desk or in a casino that never made windows. The grass in my back yard has the texture of pure straw and I can't go barefoot because it feels like needles on the soles of my worn out feet.<br /><br />So as I sit here at my desk, I hear the others buzzing about the rain on it's way and how they can't wait. Before I know it, we're watching lightening strike outside the conference window and we are standing in the dark with our noses to the glass. The rain comes and we are all happy for once.<br /><br />We retreat to our desks to save all the work that we might loose. The lights flicker and I look out the window to the dark clouds and the rain gets louder and louder with each passing moment. I hear it with ever inch of myself as I wish I could have an outburst of that magnitude.<br /><br />The earth was completely parched.<br />I am completely parched.<br /><br />The rain faught and fussed for days, trying to squeeze out a sprinkle.<br />I have faught and fussed for days, trying to figure out an answer.<br /><br />Finally, with a roar and a flash, the rain moved swiftly and forcefully downward bathing the straw-like grass, the grass so starved for water it was on it's last breath, if not dead. Now the grass is swimming, blowing bubbles, rolling and smiling.<br />I want that too.<br /><br />20 minutes later, the sky opens back up and the sun rolls lazily back into view. It's as if the earth and sky stretched out their arms and sighed deeply, saying together,<br />"ahhh, thanks for that."<br /><br />Relief. Can you tell I need some?<br /><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/19/23617029_c9c6a29423_m.jpg" />Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-76922004470059435822008-07-17T08:01:00.000-07:002008-12-09T17:23:12.529-08:00Shut Your God-Shaped Hole!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx4S8vLyuGyQ631I0yOtumiVhQMmp1BV0ZgUNc8PaSMJEf-RXp_MPLsZoZNhx2mZt7MvEfK8u_nHp4rOTv60__0qtFfdXzNbuz5y2NNpeptiCUZ1U-e3_D-O_kF5QDjjP30c4itjC26U/s1600-h/mygodshapedhole.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224003260045734450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx4S8vLyuGyQ631I0yOtumiVhQMmp1BV0ZgUNc8PaSMJEf-RXp_MPLsZoZNhx2mZt7MvEfK8u_nHp4rOTv60__0qtFfdXzNbuz5y2NNpeptiCUZ1U-e3_D-O_kF5QDjjP30c4itjC26U/s400/mygodshapedhole.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Due to the shit quality of this Paint Program image I made while at work today, I will retype what is written. It reads:</div><blockquote><div align="left">You have a void in you that you can't explain. Something is<br />missing, something's not fitting right, something is nagging.<br /></div><div align="left"><em>And it's not God.</em></div><div align="left"><br />It's something else. Something bigger and harder to put your<br />finger on. It's different for everyone. No one's void can match anothers. </div><div align="left"><br />They say the power is in the 'doing', not the 'figuring'. The<br />only way to fill the hole is to fill it with the exact puzzle peice, which is<br />the shape of YOUR body, (which matches no one elses). Your goal, your<br />destination, your end point all waits to be taken care of and until it is, it<br />will follow you as closely as your debt and taxes.<br /></div><div align="left">When the void is filled, you can shut that God-Shaped hole and<br />live gently.</div></blockquote><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">In reference to: </span><a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200807/the-god-shaped-hole-finding-ourselves-fill-the-emptiness-within"><span style="font-size:85%;">The God-shaped Hole: Finding Ourselves to Fill the Emptiness Within</span></a></em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><em>Also refrencing: me being dumb.</em><br /></span></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-55294699928256072152008-07-14T05:29:00.000-07:002008-12-09T17:23:13.202-08:00What A Day Off Can Do<span style="font-size:180%;">I</span> work two jobs. During the five day stretch of a business week I am in an accounting office burning my eyes over numbers and paperwork. Usually these hours are long, boring and hard to pass. My energy is easily sucked into the unpleasant ring my telephone makes, or the annoying figetty things my co worker does all day.<br /><br />In the summer, by Thursday, my 8 hour work day stretches on to 14. After I clock out of the office drained and lifeless, I need to go to my second job where I stand for 5-6 hours, running up and down stairs and handling (more often than not) dissatisfied, unruly patrons.<br /><br />Monday through Friday quickly turns into Monday through Monday through Monday. Sometimes I will get a Sunday night off... but the last two months has been brutal.<br /><br />So this past weekend, I didn't sign up to work and I awarded myself a Friday night, Saturday and Sunday all to myself. This worked <em>wonders....</em><br /><br />Having a day off, isn't just about not going to work. The scraps of time I've had to myself here and there are spent exhausted on the couch but the benefits of taking time for yourself are incredibly beneficial. So maybe you really need that $50? Think of this... Paying (or giving up your) $50 may turn out to be the best investment of the month. Sometimes going without brings a whole lot in. How many more ways do you think I can say it?<br /><br />TAKE TIME OFF!<br /><br />Friday night I went to Foxwood's Bingo with two good friends. It had been a long week so two of us had quit early to go home and watch reruns of "I Love Lucy" together before our trip the next day. John was left with three bingo cards and not enough time to check them all. (Bingo is pretty intense...)<br /><br />Saturday was spent in the beautiful city I love; New York. The sun was shining, it was hot and we were just happy to be there. Melinda and I stopped for lunch at the American Diner where we ordered what seemed to be lbs of food.<br /><br />We ventured out to the <a class="p" href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&safe=active&sa=X&oi=spell&resnum=0&ct=result&cd=1&q=guggenheim&spell=1">guggenheim</a> museum to expand our art culture only to find that this museum was a disgrace to all I hold dear in the art world. I apologize to anyone who enjoys art from a kindergarden class room or someone dropping a deuce on a plate but $18 later I was seriously contemplating defacing the building with my sour vanilla milkshake... to say the very least. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222858611334179154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzdZtnVWsZ4GrMVsS7trHPFLFPC10anQpU9UG7hvvGGhoDU8I-pHEpJ6m6ueaIL9EYHXxLq0fexb14PvUz1hMfglM2KHGlpx44qsV93HFuJFIqgCQvVzMz35D-sc5LUMPnU3cWo0dU-0/s200/l_3a5b8529baaecb7cae8f3aa5e34a47ca.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Sunday friends from my second job through a large picnic. There are 110 of us but about 60 showed up. Potluck lunch, swimming pool, hot tub, endless beers, bottomless chip bags and watching a line of 50 year olds play <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flip_cup"><em>flip cup</em> </a>in their milliondollar driveway just topped off the weekend.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222858618387586530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk_Sb64yH9SkF0WPreFJ-KmGerJiGs1Oysky_c7ECL2PdPSAgxwdwyc47yV4xxpoajWs8k7wwtoATG4P5uFh34t4ccYHDZ6ADwc26oUgqrhhotMJA71q5P9BBMmEFF68TPiUGVAdBd2o/s200/l_dd65577205765c3d1b582b38d1384fb8.jpg" border="0" /><br />While the Guggenheim crapped on my heart and we crapped out on Bingo, it didn't matter. All the little parts of the this weekend that went slightly awry where perfect none the less because of the sheer fact that I did them at my own discretion. I chose when to sit, stand, sleep, drink and did not have to censor myself for bosses, patrons or parents. It may sound silly, but that's worth the money I spent this weekend.<br /><br />And thanks to some time off, my work day may just turn out to be productive today. :)<br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222859605958869762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xhTGfHWBJkXpMs-0EGwk3jKOzOsjp-fRiopaxrI7SzEmwF4N2zNC24rQML3czNtHVf5r1gMOOOZzregqULfXeQZc05UTLb7WJy2yuYaWl85tTUYSjxtExezPmLbLow_ZPlc1h5jsb88/s320/l_274b3439a1d67b4f03b608a9c44c6be6.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Ladies and Gentlemen: Please Take Time for Fun.</span></p>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-3877348714498529742008-07-08T18:25:00.000-07:002008-07-08T19:26:45.273-07:00On Fearlessness and ADD<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span><span style="font-size:100%;">magine, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">y</span></span>ou're walking along just fine and then suddenly, PLOP! Right down a manhole. If you can imagine that picture, it represents how each one of my thoughts have been lately. I get on a topic in my head, get half way to a question to present to <a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living">The Teacher</a> and PLOP... it's gone. My train of thought, my question... gone. What's going on?<br /><br />When you ask American's what their problem with attention is, they'll be quick to tell you <a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200806/shadow-syndromes-and-the-crazy-scale-a-cautionary-tale">they have ADD</a>. "Everyone has it," they'll say. But maybe we don't. Maybe what we have is plain old fashioned laziness.<br /><br />The book I'm reading right now, <span style="font-style: italic;">Shambhala: the Sacred Path of the Warrior </span>by Trungpa explores everyday life and how the mundane things don't have to <span style="font-style: italic;">excite</span> us necessarily, but at least <span style="font-style: italic;">interest</span> us.<br /><br />Washing dishes doesn't make me want to break dance but I haven't taken the time to put a little pride into doing it. Being mindful means watching the soap bubble, the dishrag swirl and feel the cold water rinse my warm hands when I'm done and being good with that. This book also explores just your living space. It talks of even throwing your clothes on the floor is a great dishonor... to yourself.<br /><br />I think about my own wandering mind and relate it back to the questions that start to form and then fade before my eyes. I spend the rest of the time trying to rediscover just what it is I'm looking to ask about. I find myself saying, "what was I just saying? where did that thought go?!"<br /><br />In all the studies I've done lately, the deeper I get into enlightened living... I'm learning about things just on the cusp of my conceptual grasp and it's both incredibly intriguing and also terribly frustrating. It's like I can smell it, almost taste it and I'm just about to touch it but then it's gone and I don't even know how to tell you what it is that I saw. And no matter how hard I try to hold the concept, it drops and I fall from the ladder. Flat on my back again!<br /><br />So ADD may not be everyone's problem and most likely it's not mine either, but we'll tack that word on it for now since nothing else suites my discomfort when trying to focus on an actual task. I'm too busy thinking about the teachings that I'm reading about but find myself falling short of practicing... Especially in the car. My road rage is outlandish.<br /><br />The book continues on to say that as humans with an enlightened understanding, we must entreat our time here with nothing but tenderness to others and to approach, speak and carry ourselves with gentleness. This creates fearlessness and connects us to others on a deeper and more meaningful level.<br /><br />But just as I'm also on the edge of grasping, in my tattered hands, what a second of tenderness may be, it is pulled out of reach and I digress. I loose direction, focus and drive.<br /><br />Today I got sick.<br /><br />I get sick and my body hurts and I'm propelled backwards, head first into fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of physical pain and fear that I will never be free from it's unrelenting clutches. So teach me how to <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> be afraid. Teach me to forget all that I know today!<br /><br />It's like when Romeo pouts to Benvolio saying, "O, teach me how I should forget to think!"<br /><br />He answers, "By giving liberty unto thine eyes; <code><a name="228"></a></code>Examine other beauties."<br /><br />And Romeo rambles on and in conclusion before he departs says to his friend, "Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget."<br /><br />But Benvolio knows better and replies, "I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt."<br /><br />And the end result is that Benvolio holds the truth and doesn't seem bothered by it's presence. He <span style="font-style: italic;">knows </span>Romeo can retrain his mind and he doesn't kill himself to prove it to his friend, he simply smiles knowingly and shakes his head, muttering a quiet opposition and certainty.<br /><br />In by giving liberty to our eyes we can examine options, beauty, truth and if we are lucky, find something that means everything to us; a something so strong you feel as though you could die for it.<br /><center><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:SLVrTNHsYiKRNM:http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/5700/5767/romeo%26juliet_6_lg.gif" /><br /><br /></div></center>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-66109066230858292002008-07-06T19:38:00.000-07:002008-07-06T19:49:17.607-07:00A Beautiful Night in the NeighborhoodThe fourth of July came and went, I missed out on a good fireworks show. I had a beer and Evan called from a rooftop in NYC to tell me it was kind of raining, he was kind of drunk and illegal fireworks from his neighbors were flying past his head. He completely cheered me up.<br /><br /> While Evan described the fireworks and the city, both of which I was missing, better things were brewing in my brain. Billy Joel sang his tenth concert the next night and I didn't think I'd make it to work but I did. And today I rode my bike into town with my mom, came home to play badmitton with the 11 year old neighbor. And when the sun went down, 6 of us residents from the condos walked down to the beach to let off some stop and shop fireworks.<br /><br />The kids laughed and the adults kept looking around for cops to show up. I lit the wicks and ran away. The air and the water were warm and even though they weren't the big fireworks in the sky, it was okay.<br /><br />These are the times where you are supposed to look not at what you're missing but what is in front of you. Simple things like air temperature, that your neighbors like you, that two kids are smiling and that a walk in the night with some new friends is worth a lot.<br /><br />It was a good day because instead of reading the rest of my book, I went outside and entertained some bored kids. I thought about ways to change my money situation. I recharged my energy by not only using it to exercise but to also lay on the couch. I found another way to get over another obstacle by changing my thinking.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">"The old way wasn't workin' so it's on us, to do what we gotta do, to survive."<br />-Tupac<br /></div><br />More money=NYC.<br />Happy Neighbors=Happy environment<br />Challenging your current situation=Change for the better.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">So get better.</span><br /></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-4389180573126121542008-07-01T06:53:00.000-07:002008-07-01T07:27:36.823-07:00Max Shares the Meaning of LifeAfter reading <a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200806/fearlessness-eight-sides-open-and-the-lions-roar">this article</a>, I had a few questions about it's philosophy. The article is about being present, (oviously - as the entire blog is). It instructs us to stop living in the past and not to worry so much about the future. We have today.<br /><br />I discussed this at dinner with a friend and we both came up with the same question, "why shouldn't we worry about the future?" and "how can we not?" I didn't feel so dumb wondering this, since she wasn't sure of the answer too.<br /><br />I had commented on the article that afternoon with my question and after dinner, I came home to the answer. Upon finishing the last sentence of the response, my brother Max walked in the door.<br /><br />I turned to him and said, "I'm reading this stuff and everytime I bring up the subject, it's something you either already do or have an opinion about. So tell me this... do you live in the moment? Like, do you just do what you have to do today and then the future works out for you?"<br /><br />He dropped on his bed opposite the computer and said, "like, the past is history, the future is a mystery kind of thing?"<br /><br />"Yeah, what do you think of it?" I asked.<br /><br />"Well the past is done so that's that and you can't predict the future so you just do what you gotta do today," he answered. He sat up and looked at me, "life is about purpose. If you have a purpose, then you get it done. Everyone has a personal purpose that they make for themselves."<br /><br />"Okay," I said. "What about that kid that killed himself that you knew?"<br /><br />"He was a waste of life," he answered. "But! He achieved his purpose. That kid came into the world and his goal was to be miserable and to die. He dropped the ball and boom - when it hit the ground his personal purpose was fullfilled and his life was finished because he fullfilled it."<br /><br />His point wasn't really negative or possitive, just facts of how he saw it. He explained that this life is about survival of the fittest. If you couldn't contribute to society or have quality of life then you were wasting your time on this planet. The scary part of this was that his reasoning made sense to me.<br /><br />Yes, I realize my brother is incedibly pessimistic but his views are based on how he functions in society. He may be a jerk at times but he is a prime example of purpose and living in the day. He goes to work and goes to school. He'll graduate and become an electrician. But he's not thinking about his apprenticeship today. Today he's on vacation for a week and going to work - that's it. He knows he will finish and he'll be in the flow.<br /><br />"Athiests will tell you we are just on earth to procreate to keep the human species alive," he said, hanging off the bed with his face to the floor.<br /><br />"What's the point of living then if it's just to make babies and die?" I asked.<br /><br />"Well, I didn't say I agreed with them. There is no answer to why we are here but since we are, the best bet is because we were given the most advanced brains so that we <em>can </em>give ourselves purpose. It's all subjective vs. objective reality Carolyn," he said nodding to himself, proud that he had the answer to that. I just looked at him.<br /><br />He may be an ass, but he's not a dumb one.<br /><br /><div align="center"><center><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/168/438296464_b77438014a_m.jpg" /></center></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-62237511748828009402008-06-27T11:17:00.001-07:002008-06-30T13:34:23.648-07:00A Singing SubwayI don't know why I hear it or if I'm just loosing my mind but sometimes... I can hear public transportation making music.<br /><br />When I stepped out of my car this afternoon, I focused on the hum of the 18 wheelers behind me. The highway wails at me even through my window as I sit at this desk. Yesterday the subway rails sounded like a woman singing a sad note. These things catch my attention and stick out.<br /><br />Remember in the Broadway play<em> Wicked </em>when Elphaba, (the wicked witch of the west) realizes she can make the broom fly? The broom didn't sing of course but the ladies sang and Galinda sings, "you're having delusions of grandiure".<br /><br />But Elphaba wasn't. She rode away on her broom and the music got louder.Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-46667841896852942032008-06-27T11:17:00.000-07:002008-06-27T12:26:17.115-07:00The Perils of ChangeI wanted to sit down today and write something meaningful and insightful but today is a blah day; a perfect Friday. Everyone's excuse is the name of the day and not much work gets done. Naps seem like a great idea and writing emails takes president over getting that batch done for accounting.<br /><br />Billy Joel's 6th concert was last night and everytime I hear "New York State Of Mind", I get a little sadder. I can't figure out if I'm terrified to go, or if I'm afraid it will loose it's magic if I live there or even if I'll just run out of money and be lost. Still, I must've been a New Yorker in a past life. Ho hum.<br /><br />I guess today's post can be about change and what it means to us as people. God, do we hate it. I wonder if it's because we are such 'creatures of habit', consistant beings that disrupting the flow, disrupts us. Whatever the reason, they hate it. Even within a familiar environment, like my job for example. Even a change in procedure on how things get to my desk, can have everyone up in arms.<br /><br />So I'm 24 next month and while change should still be part of the woodwork of my life; it isn't. I need a new location, new job and new ways of thinking. But the reality for most, like myself, are the practical and vital things that are pulling fear into us. Like medical insurance for example. How terrifying to move to a city with no job and then no medical insurance for 3 months. Just this morning, without warning, I had my head between my legs in pain.<br /><br />We're not just talking about being uncomfortable with a new setting and the people in it. We are talking about how danger can play a role in making decisions about change. Now, of course, with medical insurance or without, it doesn't matter. A hospital will treat you. But what about the damage afterwards when the bill arrives?? In a failing economy where everyday living is becoming more and more of a struggle, where does a $2,000 bill fit in to ever be paid off?<br /><br />I've never been a person to put much emphasis on money until I ran out of it. But looking at my bank statement the other day and seeing $300 in gas in one month made me wonder where on earth rent money will ever come from.<br /><br />I think money, or lack there of, is the main ingredient when people make changes like location or career. This isn't high school anymore folks, it's the real world and the real world is brutal. To every person who just graduated high school, they'll get a <em>little </em>taste of it. To those who've left college, get a friend and hold their hand... it's going to be ugly.<br /><br />I can't tell you what I would give to be able to roll over and ignore the alarm clock. To not have to call my boss in the morning when I'm sick and tell them I'm sick. Oh and to have extra credit to make up for slacking... Yes, those were the days. But, BOOM! Real life is here and there ain't going back.<br /><br />I worry that the new responsibilities of living in the real world is what's keeping me from stepping forward. I'm so worried about my insurance, my bills, my paycheck, my... security, that instead of taking that jump to something that might be amazing, I'd rather stay stuck and 'secure'.<br /><br />Michael would probably tell me I'm completely predictable, one of the millions, a textbook version of human behavior. I'm certain it's true but... it still sucks.<br /><br />So I'd pose the question, how does one get out? Of course the answer is to "decide to get out". Why is it that these decisions of happiness, awareness and movement turn out to be so hard to, well, decide? And what makes it easier?Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-60118324572616873842008-06-19T09:26:00.000-07:002008-06-22T12:16:47.787-07:00You vs The World<div>Giving advice is something I've done for years upon years. Of course, I am young, but you still can't laugh at my 'years'. The amount of time, energy and personal study of people that I have dedicated myself to, truly speaks for itself. I spend a great deal of energy in finding out people's histories, their woes, their hardships and the joy that came out of them all. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>Because I had great story tellers in my high school years, the men and women who told me about their lives helped to shape my own. For each person who spent a great deal of after school hours with me, I kept a book. They were teachers, they were people and later became friends. I would write about what they were telling me about life so that I would have something were I to go through a similar hardship.<br /><br />Maryann would say, "it took me twenty years to figure that out." </div><br /><div>I would think to myself, "now I have twenty years to figure something else out because I have the answer to this."</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>When I wanted to know about people and they were distant or quiet, I began to study body language. This was incredibly fun because human behavior is so predictable. I realized more and more the importance of really paying attention to what people did with their bodies, not only in silence but even in discussion. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>My study evolved through others, to bodies and then to myself. Self help books littered my shelves and I read them but they all felt like dead ends. I know now that you're not really going to help anything with those books, unless you're helping your simple mind.<br /><br />Home remedies for happiness and relaxation are equilvelant to take out instead of a home cooked meal. Nothing tastes better than something you cooked with your own two hands. That's where real happiness happens; in your hands. Not in a bottle, not in a pill and no, not in a joint. Happiness is the hard work and tears you put into your weeks to gather months of smiling. It has to be rich; cultivated from your feet, all the way up.<br /><br />Studying people plays an important role but studying myself in this recently new format... is blowing my mind.<br /><br /><center><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/50/148056794_bfe8d01cb2_m.jpg" /></center><br /><br />Studying your own habits makes everyone else's habits kind of make sense and in that I'm furthering all areas of study, seamlessly. The rule of loving yourself first may sound corny, but it's the most beneficial road to take, in order to discover the rest of the world.<br /></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-79839154041031834282008-06-16T17:32:00.000-07:002008-06-17T06:30:29.255-07:00Can I Be Still?In <a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200806/cultivating-peace-traversing-pain">"Meditation isn't for sissies"</a>, we are reminded that we're not going to a happy place when we close our eyes, we're not going any place at all.<br /><br />In all the creative outlets I have available to me, none have proven to be as comforting and easy to run into as "my happy place", as Adam Sandler would say. I can draw a picture if the mood strikes me, I can create an illustration as close to my thought as possible (though they are rarely the same). I can write a good story and describe everything in detail. But even if I sat here and wrote about how fat, loud and strong the rain was, I am the only one getting hit in the face with it, inside the screen. I could tell you about the cool air, the thunder and the flashes of lightning but I'm the only one who can smell the grass and feel the hair on my arm stand.<br /><br />But imagination is increasingly powerful with practice and when my hands were too tired to draw and my eyes were too tired to read, I could always close my lids and simply imagine.<br /><br />Sitting in the dentist chair I've concentrated on the same boat picture since 3rd grade. While drills roll inside my head and metal scrapes, I am fishing. I am on the dock having pizza or I am breezing through the ocean in the background.<br /><br />When I was mad at home, at school or at work, I simply switched off from reality and willed myself into another existence. I wanted something to distract me. I guess most people refer to it as day dreaming. I thought of it as displacement. As I sit here, the thunder cracks and the neighbor roots for the sound. The rain is ruthless against my deck but I am in the jungle somewhere sitting in a tree hut and the darkness of my back yard is really cloaking miles of thick rainforest. When I sit in the shower in my bathroom, it is the same feeling.<br /><br />I've often wondered if what I were doing all these years was some kind of cliff note to what a sip of meditation would be. These past few weeks I've come to see the difference is ruthlessly far apart. Michael only puts in words what I couldn't when he says this practice is, indeed, the hardest.<br /><br />The sliding door of this bedroom is open a crack so I can hear the rolling and screaming of the sky. That is the reality of this night and instead of disappearing to another country, I should be taking joy that the beauty is litterally in my back yard.<br /><br />My mother comes to the door and tells me to switch off the computer. Lightning travelling through the computer is reality too. It happened to us once.<br /><br />So the moral is that while far off places seem beautiful and peoples faces seem more intricate in other lands, it is a simple case of "the grass is greener on the other side". It is with intent open eyes that we should stop looking past the back yard and appreciate the very wood of the deck we are standing on. <br /><br />Until I can see the deck as a deck and not a tree house, I'm not sure if I am ready to sit on the deck and just let it be nothing... not even a deck. If I've been substituting things like the deck for tree houses, I must first work backwards and go back to seeing them and appreciating what they are, no matter how simple.<br /><br />Once the deck is a deck, then I can go a step further and forget the deck exists altogether. Is that when I can be still?<br /><br /><center><br /><img src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:RwNt_B5ruQWMkM:http://www.gusick.com/Treehouse/Treehouse1-Sketch.jpg" /></center>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-38839230884476242492008-06-11T18:08:00.001-07:002008-12-09T17:23:13.545-08:00Grocery Shopping Monks"Joey, Bag of Donuts" or "Joey Bags", as we called him, was the first man I saw everyday for a year. He worked in the back of the market with me in the warehouse. His name wasn't Joey at all, it was Richard. He was 5 foot even, fat, New York native, Italian mess who never took his baseball cap off because he was bald.<br /><br />One morning, after stealing us breakfast, Joey came running into the back room. With a hot croissant hanging out of his mouth, his raspy voice sputtered, "you'll neva believe this honey, two dudes with dresses in the milk isle!"<br /><br />"Dresses Joey?" I asked following him out to the store.<br /><br />"You know those meditating people," he threw his hands up.<br /><br />I watched from a short distance as the two men in question, headed towards Joey and his stained apron. They were draped in red cloth over one shoulder and wore brown sandals. Each of them carried a wooden bowl.<br /><br />"Can you help us shop, Sir?" The taller, and obviously American, of the two spoke to Joey softly. He explained that he was from our town but went over seas to become a monk. He went on to tell Joey that he could not touch the food they wanted to purchase, or the money to buy it with. They needed Joey to walk the store with them.<br /><br />Joey, being the curious thing that he was, thought this was hilarious and volunteered to help them with a smile. He started asking questions right away.<br /><br />His first question was if they had any underwear on. The American monk laughed and said they had shorts on. Joey went on to ask what they did all day? Weren't they bored? No tv? No SEX? He was the most mortified that they couldn't even touch themselves!<br /><br />As you could've guessed, Joey was NOT a shy man, nor did he leave out details of a hot date to anyone, or even how he handled his morning wood. The monks came back every day for one week and always asked for him.<br /><br />They were interesting and I looked for them every morning. They were quiet but they stood out. The older man with his beautiful skin color and their wine colored robes. Someone the American knew would leave money at the booth and they would use that to pay. When they bought fruits or vegetables that had seeds in them, they had US pray for them because they would be eating them later and depriving the seeds of thriving.<br /><br />They had told us that one morning they had forgotten to pray for their oranges and went to the neighbors to ask if they would pray over their fruit and the neighbors weren't very kind to them about it. I wonder why people freak over differences.<br /><br />At the end of the week, Joey and a few others had helped the monks with their shopping. Joey had asked them all the questions he could think of, even tried to persuade the American to come back to our culture, telling him he was missing great movies and good sex. The young man laughed and left Joey with a book that I wish I had taken from him. And Joey had sent them off with smiles and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos before I could stop him.<br /><br />"They'll like those Doritos," he had said to me, proud he could give them a treat.<br /><br />"Joey, they can't HAVE Doritos, it's unnatural!" I told him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-bvjYt0idQaqGwgaHKA5Iuz8LrSws3DAdNeR2F6bXSxW_aW9d06tzvqvjVMb245gbIBN97PDIH0RU1i4Nu8UR2R_T6QBkb4gxvIDdAW1AzyDaBXUtc6ow25lsRwrG4z2vJkAlgW2XCY/s1600-h/103_4063.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-bvjYt0idQaqGwgaHKA5Iuz8LrSws3DAdNeR2F6bXSxW_aW9d06tzvqvjVMb245gbIBN97PDIH0RU1i4Nu8UR2R_T6QBkb4gxvIDdAW1AzyDaBXUtc6ow25lsRwrG4z2vJkAlgW2XCY/s320/103_4063.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210802210179828786" border="0" /></a>"Whatever! They have to now because then it'd be wasting!" He laughed, cramming stolen Lays into his mouth, peices falling on his belly. The only monk-like thing about Joey was that you could compare his belly to the fat Buddha. He's make an atrociously ugly Buddha with absolutely no moral fiber in his body. But the thought still makes me laugh.<br /><br />The moral is, with talking about religion and spirituality, that rituals separate belief. If I can remember all the things Michael said today, which was ALOT, then I'll be able to keep perspective on not getting lost in the rules but instead get lost in the feeling.<br /><br />For those two men, devine devotion to their craft... to their journey, is what they chose. For me, my path is what happens. I will eat Doritos <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>seeds, if it doesn't kill me. They say you're not supposed to seek out drugs to bring you to different experiences but I like doing that too. I feel like my own rules will be okay with this new thinking because this thinking is about me; about what I want. And as the guru always says, "if no one is dead, bleeding or on fire... it's okay."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(And yes, that is our Blue Buddha from our garden that my mother has had her whole life. The irony.)</span><br /></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-16245000229727072962008-06-10T17:52:00.000-07:002008-06-11T17:40:08.867-07:00Feel Yourself At SummerIt's a time where shoes are not required. Where kids grow restless, knowing that school's almost out and dogs are rolling around in the grass out in the back yard.<br /><br />When it was time to start shopping for a new place to live, although everything was dead and it was cold outside, each house I stepped into I transported myself to summer. While my mom was bundled up with her flashlight, looking at pipes with the salesmen, I was looking at the back yard and imaging friends and cookouts and gardens. What would this house look like on a summer night? That was how I gaged each place. Would it be nice to walk through in the summer and lounge?<br /><br />Summer is my season for all the right reasons. No shoes, I hate them. I love bare feet burning on hot tar. Bathing suits pass for attire and even though I'm a lot skinnier than I would like to be, I'm still comfortable enough to enjoy walking around half naked; go me!<br /><br />I hate being cold. I must have lived another life in the south, in Australia or Africa. I was never made for the cold and I'm only now rolling up my electric blanket and putting it away. Cold is the worst feeling. So warm is the absolute best.<br /><br />I don't mind the sweating, unless you are in work clothes, but other than that... freedom! Summer is full of warm nights in car rides, people on the beach and life HAPPENING. I'm excited to be back in my element as I am a child of Cancer being born July 18th.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It's good to be home. House and Earth. <br /><br /><center><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1318/874457445_e50b607e5b_m.jpg" /></center><br /></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-47292407827016479862008-06-10T17:08:00.000-07:002008-12-09T17:23:14.181-08:00I Want To Ride My Bicycle, I Want To Ride My Bike<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8WuABq7MEHkEva2IJqLxOdR0Li5hPLDtrYMNquD9TN31brObbHfbsjf5b-wIl8QyRBnxy5jvV5TYfTm4xTqipwqdkj23WTBx6Qvrhe6GtVuENjETEnB7tmsS09ivucfn9A3nCf0WBrU/s1600-h/103_4092.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210417318237726386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8WuABq7MEHkEva2IJqLxOdR0Li5hPLDtrYMNquD9TN31brObbHfbsjf5b-wIl8QyRBnxy5jvV5TYfTm4xTqipwqdkj23WTBx6Qvrhe6GtVuENjETEnB7tmsS09ivucfn9A3nCf0WBrU/s200/103_4092.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:180%;" >T</span>hey say you're supposed to move when you are restless... So I did.<br /><br />I went to a baby shower on Sunday for my friend Leena. She's due in August and it was nice to see her and laugh with her again. I looked at her big belly, as I do with all women in her condition. It's the only time I really feel a twinge of jealousy. I'm not even sure if it's what I would want right this minute but when I see pregnant bellies, I swoon. Maybe it's a girl thing.<br /><br />After the shower, it was warm but after being part of big pink decorations for hours I came home and decided to go on a bike ride. I took Max's iPod with no destination and found myself heading down the same road I always take now.<br /><br />I start along the edge of the water in our neighborhood. It's a long road, with marsh like shores with private docks that have signs that read "keep out". It was only five and I had air and water and... restlessness. So I rode my bike up the hills into the neighborhood. I zig-zaged up and down every road through out that area until I had seen every beautiful house at least twice or maybe three times. They were all cute and sweet. So many of them had bright flowers out front and cookouts in the back. Front porches with old people and wicker. Some people smiled when I drove by because I was smiling.<br /><br />When I had seen all I could and coasted down all the hills without holding the handle bars, the rushes here were getting old and the music was still playing so I thought I would go back the way I came, past my house and continue on downtown.<br /><br />I pushed hard up the hills telling myself it's what I should do. I shouldn't give up. I should just go and go and go, even if I was tired... Even if I was ready to fall over. So I kept going.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg634q2Rvi7gdC_8Kj037NzC4RvfOuKwHmz8DA6hedNdzFO5oI3xqjgY3yL7mFBy1xTAkEH91kmIDzWox3nViICK2HCtRSy7S0l_0wxS3rm-2CABURnF_j-zJJ1Ubp1ojjnbGmh6qQF9U8/s1600-h/103_4098.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210417299946395250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg634q2Rvi7gdC_8Kj037NzC4RvfOuKwHmz8DA6hedNdzFO5oI3xqjgY3yL7mFBy1xTAkEH91kmIDzWox3nViICK2HCtRSy7S0l_0wxS3rm-2CABURnF_j-zJJ1Ubp1ojjnbGmh6qQF9U8/s200/103_4098.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ani DiFranco sang in my ears and I weaved through people on the sidewalks even though some didn't move when I was coming. I scooted behind restaurants and crossed streets on green lights and sang with no restriction. I rode past people and smiled at them. They ate at Dad's Restaurant and the Fish Market. Men pulled at ropes and sprayed down boats at the marina and I kept going. Over the bridge I could see the people dining below at Sunset Ribs.<br /><br />I don't know why it's always so amazing when I ride my bike but it <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">IS</span>. It's like I see the world through rose colored glasses and my bicycle transports me to this place where I'm never tired, never hungry. I watch people living. It's my favorite.<br /><br />I remember passing a man and his daughter once on one of my rides. They were partially hidden by bushes in the front yard but they sat on their front steps. I heard him say, "sometimes that's what friends are supposed to do..."<br />I loved that moment because I was passing life lessons happening.<br /><br />My bicycle is the most powerful object I own besides myself. It's my vehicle and makes me feel free in ways nothing else can. I was gone 3 hours that night and I felt incredible. I felt incredible for days afterwards. I smiled brighter and my mood was stronger, my heart was happier and I felt like I was part of society again.<br /><br />When I was in Willimantic there were days where I would stay up all night and when the sun would come up I would ride through the streets and watch people start their day. Men opening up shops and unloading trucks, children racing each other to the bus stop and I was a kid sitting on the steps of a church with her bike in her lap... Watching.<br /><br />As pessimistic as I can be, I will always be the person who sits still and just watches, who listens to her car rattle and her brain run in the morning. Who loves good smells like perfumes and rain on asphalt. I am the person who sweats and is smiling because she appreciates the heat. I am the person who pays attention and chews her food so slow, she's always the last one at the table.<br /><br />They say that movement is a one of the first key ingredients in calming yourself and I think I understand part of that. I've tried going on long walks and while they are good for talking with friends, they aren't good for opening up yourself. It's my bicycle that moves <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">me</span>... In more ways than one. I have to have my music though too. It's my potion of devotion and I loveee it.<br /><br />I was proud of myself. What can I say? I just smiled for days.<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">M O V E YO U R B O D Y T O D A Y .<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5056847797614331734.post-3430786141850846552008-06-07T18:30:00.000-07:002008-06-07T20:54:45.216-07:00They Won't Let Us Die, They Won't Let Us Eat<div style="text-align: center;">Today's article was<br /><a href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/blog/enlightened-living/200806/the-dilemma-genetic-engineering-and-landmines"> "The Dilemma of Genetic Engineering and Landmines".</a><br />A completely random yet ethically challenging question about GMO's (genetically modified organisms) and how they can help us. Normally it would be a question of GMO's having pesticides built into their genes or changing them to be riper, bigger and more fruitful. Today another spin has been put on, proving that once again GMO's can come to the rescue... if only we'd let them...<br /></div><br />America... She wouldn't know a good thing if it kicked her in the teeth. Oh America... Such a young nation still picking up the pieces of a fucked up past only to be in the process of making new wounds.<br /><br />In environmental studies (one of my most beneficial classes at my no name university) I learned about the Asian over-population. We learned about how wildly out of control it was and the system that was created to bring it back down. The ways the communities were set up to have older women check on the younger ones to make sure they weren't thinking about having more than one child. The health care system that was set up for free, for LIFE, for the single child family. Could America do that? Not in a million years. Why? Cause they don't wanna. That's why.<br />I have to laugh at all you fools with Hummer's today as you cry at every gas pump you pull up to. A very perfect representation of America. They just want what they don't need and then when it bites them in the ass, they don't understand why.<br /><br />We JUST started the "Go Green" movement. Where has the rest of the world been all this time? While I was getting picked on by my roommates at school for taking home our papers and recycling every week, no body thought that maybe it would be a good idea to follow my lead. But that's America... Lazy.<br /><br />So can you tell I'm a little bitter at how badly our country treats itself? Of course it's a beautiful nation, chalk full of opportunities for almost anyone but like any young lady, America has a lot of growing up to do.<br /><br />So what of this article? GMO's... a touchy subject. Why? It reminds me of when I sat in my class room and the professor showed us a picture of clean energy windmills. <img src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:V4AMv0kI3WPOVM:http://www.vnf.com/assets/htmlimages/Windmills_on_hill.resize.jpg" /><br />She said they wanted to put these out in an ocean, where the mills could spin constantly and supply us with clean energy. I thought it was amazing and fascinating at some of the things we've made to harvest the elements to use for power. But then she said that a petition was signed in an area they wanted to build. The people who lived on the water said they bought their houses for the view they had and they didn't want some man-made feature out in the water. Even though the structures would only appear an inch in height from the shore. The amount of clean energy we through away the day they said no, makes my head spin. Because of the view.<br /><br />Sticking with the theme, let's hop back to the genetically modified good stuff. Both sides of this GMO argument come with heavy opinions. Personally I love things that are natural. It would be lovely to say they could stay that way but science is moving too fast to stop it now. The thought that we may be able to specially order what kind of baby comes out is just plain scary. But we don't live in the natural world anymore.<br /><br />We are excessive people. We want everyone to live longer, bigger, stronger lives. Medicine's keep us alive, computers run our schedules and cars bring us to work. There's nothing natural about that, but it's the life we chose. And if our nation chose to bury weapons, well, it's only their responsibility to make it right. If GMO's can save lives, whether by keeping you from blowing up or by feeding you... How is that different from cutting down miles of natural rainforest to make paper, houses, or the deck you fry your burgers on?<br /><br />If we don't want people to ever die, which is how medicine and the ethics connected with the sick tends to lead us to believe... Then we need to have a back up plan. Statistics show that more people are living longer. Quality of life is questionable but the point is, there are more mouths to feed and more going hungry everyday. Some people don't have the luxury to say, let nature do it's thing. Man has already gone against the natural flow by cheating death and harnessing "natural" things to make them unnatural. I don't believe it's fair to say we can pick and choose. We'd all be hypocrites, wouldn't we? Unless we live in teepee's in the woods and live off the land.<br /><br />When you look at us as animals who are surviving - nature is our resource, so let it be that, in whatever form it can be.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1216/1315678564_e27baed1fd_m.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /></div>Earthangiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475066767586936798noreply@blogger.com0