True Value

Like the name of the popular retail establishment, true value is understood to mean quality -- the best, above average. Oscar Wilde once said "A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing." What do we really know of value? Awakening each morning to the natural music of birds, seeing the look of wonder and delight on a child's face who touches the nose of a calf for the first time, watching the seasons change from a window of your home, understanding the life patterns of this earth and its inhabitants, and that all of us have a place in that cycle. We have done absolutely nothing except be born to deserve all this, and we need do nothing but grow mindful to appreciate it. It can be difficult to remind ourselves of this quiet essence of all that lives. Some are such masters of growing things -- it seems that these artists of the earth could plant an umbrella and in due time find little umbrellas growing. Beautiful, nourishing gardens, flowering shrubs, fruit trees, blooms of all descriptions are creativity in its purest form. Though paintings are wonderful and art of all kinds translates into languages understandable to all, the creation of living plants which in turn sustain our lives is essential, actual value. It is no accident that many beautiful words have been written in gardens, or that descriptions of the earth and nature, that creation of the master artist, are so plentiful. Somewhere among all that we possess is the truest of all gifts -- we need not even consider price -- it is ours. Mathematical symbols denoting quantity, or for assessing cost are useful for transferring goods and services . . . let us never confuse price with true value.

Addiction

Unfamiliarity with addiction doesn’t protect anyone. Initially, when faced with it, first comes hopeful reasoning. Something ‘set it off’ or ‘caused’ it. Just look the other way, everything will get back to normal sooner or later. When the addict is a loved one, disruption sends everyone within the life sphere into spirals of coping. Children, especially, are confused and frightened by addictive behavior of one or both parents. They aren’t safe and they know it. They can’t connect with the addict, and they realize that no matter how much love they extend, how much support and care, the addict will not respond positively to them while influenced by the chosen substance. Substance abuse translates into abusive treatment to everyone who comes into contact with the addict. Withdrawal, neglect, cruelty in the form of explosive verbal or physical attacks are common.

Alcohol, drugs (illegal or prescription), tobacco, marijuana, overeating, hoarding, and many more activities and substances can be addictive. Some of these alter mental stability and decision-making more than others, though all result in some type of abuse for those who are subjected to interaction with the addict. Alcohol is a common, deadly addiction. Because it is legally obtainable and socially acceptable, for long periods of time the fact that overuse is causing problems can be denied or obscured, or that the person who uses it excessively is abusing it, and in turn abusing those around him/her. All sorts of excuses will emerge. No one is fooled, especially the user. This simply buys more time within which to wreak havoc on all lives involved. With everyone else who is around, it’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, constantly.

Addiction is, more than anything else, self-absorbed behavior. When entering into a mentally altered chemical fog, it’s definitely a one-person show. Nothing else matters as much, is as important. It’s an extreme form of withdrawal . . . from everyone, from life. The comfort is within, something like a siren song which can’t be silenced. Another reality, just as familiar and many times more desirable. Many confirmed addicts are newly surprised, each time after returning to sobriety, that any damage has occurred as a result of their actions. Then there may be guilt, contrite apologies, promises of future abstinence, denial, or even defensive anger, which tends to end any meaningful discussion of the problem. The addict frequently does not acknowledge that there IS a problem . . . and transfers any responsibility for these to significant others.

The path to resolution is very simple, albeit harshly drawn. STAY or LEAVE. If it is STAY, all available energy galvanizes around and to the addict. Ultimately, life itself will revolve around whether or not the addict decides to continue to use. There may be treatment centers, meetings, support groups, binges, slow climbs back-on-the-wagon. Life will go on, no one will have illusions, and acceptance will be in order . . . lies, excuses, crisis management. If it is LEAVE, the addict finds that no one wishes to, or will agree to, reside within the altered framework of functioning which has been offered to them. Moving on with life, absent addiction and its patchwork quilt of daily, weekly or monthly fallout, is deemed preferable. Adjustments will be made and living arrangements changed. There is simply no middle ground.

Meaningful Lives

Remembering my grandmothers usually brings to mind crocheting, knitting, hooking, (rugs), quilting, canning, ceramics, painting, sewing, needlepoint and the like. Both of them were born in the mid to late 1890s. My maternal grandmother was skilled at painting ceramics and china, and oil painting. She favored landscapes and flowers, and occasionally depicted different kinds of birds. When refreshing the flowers at the cemetery where she is buried, it is my habit to include a small bird within the bouquet placed there for her. For some reason, it pleases me to think that it would have made her happy. My paternal grandmother made delicious pear preserves, crocheted beautiful and useful items, and gardened. Her camellias were the talk of the neighborhood, as were her rose gardens. She sewed, and made delicate fine cotton doilies with intricate patterns. Her sparkling bright blue eyes and halo of fine white hair are still in my memory so clearly, and though crocheting isn’t one of my talents, her needles still are safely in my possession.

These women took care of so many people. It is doubtful that either of them ever thought of having a manicure or pedicure. Their husbands probably never had the thought of going into the kitchen to prepare food for themselves . . . it was women’s work, not their domain. By the same token, the men took care of the repairs, the vehicles, the animals, and worked to earn the money to run the household. It was the way of things, no one thought anyone was shirking a duty when sticking to responsibilities understood to be theirs. Hunting, fishing, cleaning game, taking care of the guns and ammunition and the lawn were in the male domain, though many women who were left alone learned to accomplish these chores and did them without complaint.

One arose at first light or before, and began organizing the day so that others could eat, go out to work or school, the animals could be fed and watered and the garden weeded, before the heat became too high. Clothes were washed in wringer washers, and it was definitely a bit of work to get laundry done and hang out the clothes to dry, using wooden clothespins, on lines stretching across the yard beside the house. When bringing in the crisp, dry clothes, one had to check carefully so that a wasp or hornet would not be folded within the fabric, and cause an unwelcome and painful surprise. No dryer of today nor any dryer sheet, replete with artificial flower or ‘springtime’ scents, can ever match that fresh, clean scent from sun-dried clothes on the line.

On Sunday, everyone in the house attended Sunday school, morning church service, and evening services. When there was a visiting minister at the church, the ladies took turns providing dinner (which was the noon meal) for the visitor and family. It was a matter of pride to prepare the best dishes, and whatever culinary specialty the ladies claimed, for these dinners. Pork chops, sweet potatoes, roast beef baked in a slow oven with fresh potatoes and carrots from the garden; perfect tomatoes, onions and peppers, green beans and squash, with at least two pies and a cake for dessert. Steaming cornbread with fresh butter, yeast rolls. Pecan, apple, peach, chocolate and lemon meringue pies, coconut, peppermint and banana cake, and homemade boiled custard if it happened to be near Christmas or Thanksgiving. Whisky, usually placed on the table in a small crystal pitcher for ‘flavoring’ in the boiled custard, was notably absent at these church dinners.

The family was the central focus, the home its setting. Seamless in its place of priority for all who belonged, there was no question of challenging its integrity or importance. Everyone just knew. No one expected to be thanked for doing their job. The doing was enough . . . all effort had its own reward. They were doing what needed to done, taking care of their lives and the lives of those with whom they had become connected. My maternal grandmother lived to the late 1970s, and my dad’s mother the early 1980s. During those years, we thought they would be with us forever . . . we gave no thought to losing them. It was a simple time, almost like a dream. Until we arrived at middle age, some of these treasures didn’t surface in our memories. Frequently now, a comfortable feeling of quiet gratefulness floats into mind . . . remembering how quietly these women lived their lives, with dignity, unusual mindfulness and meaning.

Competition

Competition

A friend’s blog recently stated that a certain quote from Vince Lombardi that winning was everything was actually a misquote. After researching the matter, two quotes of Lombardi’s in regard to winning caught my interest: “Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.” And: “If it doesn’t matter who wins or loses, why do they keep score?”

So long as competition exists, obsession with winning will also. Another long-time friend and I have a (sometimes intense) lifelong discussion going about competition. He believes that all competition is bad and should not exist. I do not. In all the years during which we’ve discussed the subject, neither of us has changed our minds. However, in the past several years his point has begun to be more understandable.

Imagine for a moment what would ensue if competition did not exist. Races, sporting events would still exist . . . with no scoring, no winners, no losers. It would be literally a game, exercise, fun. Would there be motivation? Drive? Interest? Could anything be marketed? Would fans still exist?

Think for a moment about friendly games . . . during which there is no tension, no positioning for being the one with all or the most points at the end . . . hopscotch, jump-rope, other children’s pastimes. Piano/music recitals, plays, dances. We'd still have organized games, sports. There’s participation, skill and fun; action. No winners, no losers. Simply a display of ability. So . . .if there were no contests, no prizes, no glory, would we still want to participate? What happens next? Competitive organized sports . . . now suddenly there’s good and not good; there’s making it and not making it; there are stars and also-rans. The fun becomes occasionally vicious, and certainly creates skill tiers among young people at a time in their lives during which they are deeply vulnerable and involved in developing crucial levels of self-esteem.

It’s conceptually intriguing to imagine life without competing with each other. Would we be more evolved, less violent? Could the human race aspire to a higher road? Might we be more concerned with loftier pursuits, moral and otherwise, if we dispensed with clashing with each other to find out who will vanquish the other? Is this state of affairs simply getting in our way?

Many advanced civilizations have encouraged competition . . . even demanded and exalted it. The Romans come to mind, along with several prominent countries of this planet which have been involved in technological/arms races for decades. The points and winners here are only slightly subjective. Organized religion even has its own type of competition, popularly known as evangelism . . . align with us, we have the right stuff. We’re the real winners, God is on our side.

Perhaps it is impossible to live without challenging each other . . . crusades, duels, wars, and now broad-spectrum marketing, which may be the most deadly of all. Must be a winner, or you could be a loser, and you’d better align with winners if you want to have the ‘right stuff’ . . . or be seen as competent and/or desirable. Competition doesn’t even have to accumulate or acquire points; it can simply be who comes out on top in any race to be first. It can be pretty subjective, seemingly without organization; as in who makes the team, who is chosen, who is eliminated.

And what about politics? The party system in this country, for instance, is the ultimate competition machine. No one need even talk about the super-manipulation going on all around and in this well-established mode of control. In fact, the competitive spirit overtakes everything else, most notably ethics, morals and honor. Forget everything except winning.

In short, it would be like trying to get rid of eating or drinking; talking or sex. If it isn’t inherent, no one can prove it. Likely none of us would even think of questioning the idea at all. It’s part of the human race, the way we perceive it. A case could be made for eliminating all competition, however; we would then be a super-race of committed, bonded humans working and playing for the common good, for all mankind. And if you can wrap your mind around this, I have this bridge in Brooklyn I want to sell you.

Know Thyself

Know thyself. A precept inscribed in gold letters over the portico of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. Its authorship has been ascribed to Pythagoras, several of the wise men of Greece, including Socrates, and to Phemonoe, a mythical Greek poetess. According to Juvenal, this precept descended de caelo . . . from heaven.

Two interpretations of this ancient saying have been studied and discussed by many learned scholars and researchers. One refers to principles, morals, thought and behavior of humans; the other possessing a more mystical meaning. Many guides and schools of thought exist today as to efficient evaluation and modification of human behavior. It is optimistic, and even reassuring, to believe that we have choices . . . that we can and should change behaviors which do not serve us well. In the well-known Matrix film series, the saying is written on a plaque above the Oracle’s door, in non-traditional Latin . . . temet nosce . . . (thine own self thou must know), which is translated in the film series as ‘know thyself.’

We do struggle daily with probabilities of enslavement . . . to habit, circular thinking patterns, ‘old tapes’ which we replay over and over, whether they are currently useful or not; to people or organizations to whom we commit, whether work, play or personal; to our own anger, addictions, or simple inability to comprehend the best for ourselves. Of late, we are admonished frequently in regard to serving our tendencies toward egotism, and instructed to be very aware of that pitfall of human functioning. The ancient Greek philosophers believed that no human can ever hope to understand the human spirit and thought completely. We may have success, therefore, in carefully examining our behavior and how it impacts on the world at large. That is, introspection and resulting self-knowledge reveals who we are and what truly motivates us.

Further distinction must be made as to egotism of the human mind and the ego which exists within the self, or what is frequently termed the I AM consciousness. In this sense, ‘know thyself’ is the path of each soul’s journey toward the question of life’s meaning.

Our realities necessarily contain much which pertains to others who are part of or who have entered our life spheres; significant others, children, parents, sisters and brothers, friends, careers, organizations and communities of which we are a part and toward whom we have assumed responsibilities. If a break occurs in this chain of reality in which we find ourselves, frequently we have difficulty accepting the challenge to move on and create a different framework of reality. Divorce or death of a companion, loss of a child, loss of parents, a career position . . . can ‘set us on our ears’ and torpedo our forward motion, not to mention our mental stability and physical health. It is amazingly simple to carefully note the occurrence, feel deep respect and love for what it was to us, and move on, realizing that one reality will melt into another and we will change along with the status now existing in our lives. Self-knowledge does give us insight toward accepting our own lives . . . and the understanding that we cannot effectively transfer meaning which enhances our own souls onto another person or persons, to accept this fact completely, and sever our dependence on human approval unless we know ourselves to be in full accordance with it.

To know ourselves is to fully accept, to love, to refrain from judgments and regrets, and to remain serene in our minds and hearts as we fulfill the lives we have chosen.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Fun . . . the expenditure of time in a manner designed for therapeutic refreshment of one's body or mind. That said, are we having fun yet?

No doubt all who read this will perceive fun in many different ways. Sports are fun for many, movies, parties, travel, comedy shows, television, reading, spending time with children and friends, or pets. A smaller percentage will think of their work as fun . . . very fortunate percentage, at that. Activities which are enjoyable or amusing make us happy. While having fun, we are carefree, lighthearted, and generally unworried. It is easy to be untroubled, glad that we are alive. In fact, having fun at all times appears to be a desirable, optimal way of living.

Giving ourselves permission to have fun is another story. Obtaining permission from our significant others may be difficult at times, also. A happy spirit, free of judgments and hyper-responsible guilty feelings, coupled with a reasonably relaxed mind speed one toward having many happy and fun moments. Have we become too serious about life? As Will Rogers has said: “ . . . get all the laughs you can” and . . . “don’t take yourself too serious.”

A line in shock rocker Marilyn Manson’s song Putting Holes in Happiness . . . “ways to make the tiny satisfaction disappear” pretty much outlines the tendency some have to take down someone else’s elation so that it matches their own level of un-fun. A lifetime of this can be a real downer, (defined as one that depresses, such as an experience or person) especially when you find that you’re married to or working with one of these people . . . or heaven forbid, both.

Utne Reader prints Matt Labash’s (Weekly Standard) article in regard to fun in the workplace: “If you thought there were only 301 Ways to Have Fun at Work, as suggested by the smash book that’s been translated into six languages, then you’re shortchanging yourself because, technically, there are 602 ways (see 301 More Ways to Have Fun at Work). Using examples culled from real companies in real office parks throughout America, the authors suggest using fun as “an organizational strategy—a strategic weapon to achieve extraordinary results” by training your people to learn the “fun-damentals” so as “to create fun-atics” (most funsultants appear to be paid by the pun).”

Funsultants? Oh, fine idea. If ‘fun’ to you seems to be suspect, practiced by mostly irresponsible, immature others, permitted only when it’s safely slotted into a small time frame and outlined carefully, you need immediate help. Race to a competent therapist. Happy, relaxed people get more accomplished. Besides, you will live longer, be healthier and have more friends if you laugh and have fun regularly. Trust me on this.

The Right to Die

The international furor and resulting arguments among euthanasia advocates, religious groups, lawyers and ethicists, about where the state’s duty to preserve life truly begins and ends, continues. The right to decide whether one wishes to continue to live must be finally the individual’s. In the absence of a family member or friend who has agreed to make those decisions based on the individual’s instructions, or a Living Will, people who are unfortunate enough to enter a medical facility at the end of their lives will endure much more prolonged pain and suffering than a simple, quick death would cause. Religious groups, fearful that God’s wishes may clash with an individual’s decision to end his/her life, are usually adamant in regard to their opinions against upholding any right of an individual to choose an end to all these machinations. Feeding tubes, artificial breathing apparatuses, drugs, IVs, catheters. The list is endless. No peace, no dignified, quiet cessation of life. It is a frenzied way to go out of this world.

Why are we so fearful of death? It is natural, ordained by the human condition. When we are conditioned to feel fear and aversion, there are many groups, who already do and will continue to profit financially from our desperate desire to avert the end of our lives.

It seems, if we insist that our views as to prolonging or preserving life should be employed in the face of an individual’s opposite wish, that we are dangerously close to playing the diety, dictating to another what they must do based on our framing of the situation. If we have the support and guidance of our religious group, we feel complacently correct . . . God is on our side, we know His will. In fact, we know only what other humans have decided in regard to God’s will, and which we have agreed to adopt as our own idea or opinion.

When any government is granted the legal right to choose life or death for its citizens. . . why would anyone assume that a government, employing this right, will use its esteemed capacity to make decisions always for extending life . . . and could never decide death instead? The sanctity of human life? The condition of woman and men in China and other over-populated countries makes this only too clear. Couples are forbidden, on pain of retribution from the government, to have more than one child. Pregnancies are expected to be terminated if they occur outside these established legal parameters. This is mandated by government. Life, as many on this planet live it each day, is fraught with peril . . . starvation, torture, abuse, poverty, ruin. How many well-meaning zealots, sitting each day in a safe and clean office/home environment, typing out pious tomes about preserving life, actually are
in touch with the life reality of a large portion of the world’s population? How, without experiencing traumatic physical disability firsthand, could any of us make opinions as to someone else’s pain and state of mind? How can we fervently believe that the government should ever have the right to decide life or death?
　

Remembering Camille

Remembering Camille

August, 1969. A category five hurricane slammed into the Mississippi Gulf Coast, packing nearly 200 mile per hour winds, a mammoth, screaming banshee with an eye that was more than 12 miles wide.

Camille was the only Atlantic hurricane to exhibit officially recorded sustained wind speeds of at least 190 miles per hour (310 km/h) until Allen equaled that number in 1980, and the only Atlantic hurricane in recorded history to make landfall at or above such intensity. Two hundred and fifty-nine people lost their lives and thousands lost their homes, businesses, pets, livestock, vehicles, and recreational vehicles. The hurricane flattened nearly everything along the coast of Mississippi and caused additional flooding and deaths inland while crossing the Appalachian Mountains of Virginia. In total, Camille caused $1.42 billion (1969 USD, $9.14 billion 2005 USD) in damages. To this day, a complete understanding of the reasons for the system's power, extremely rapid intensification over open water and strength at landfall has remained unachieved. Hurricane Camille is also the second strongest U.S. landfalling hurricane in recorded history by pressure, second to the Labor Day Hurricane in 1935.

August, 1945. Armistice Day. A baby girl born to young parents in Milan, Tennessee. The first sounds she would hear were celebrations in the streets . . . the end of World War II. Blue-eyed and blonde, destined to be fatherless at barely 3 years old. Camille began her life wading through deep grief while too young to understand. A life blown away suddenly . . . from a family with mom, dad and sister, pastel organdy dresses with matching hairbows, Easter egg hunts at the country club and long, winding, tree shaded streets bordering wide lawns to a grieving family of three, life with grandparents, pigs and chickens, and a school building which had been condemned for more than 20 years. As soon as possible, she left. And really never came back. Entering an open sea, she gathered strength and speed, hurtling toward the time when her fury would be spent. Always driven, propelled by unknown forces, unable or unwilling to recognize damage, as if she believed herself to be a superhuman impelled to charge forward until crashing. Testing the limits. Sweeping all who entered her life sphere before her, she lived like a shooting star, or a great wind. Burning hotly, moving swiftly, charging full speed ahead, oblivious to her inevitable demise.

A hurricane, Camille.

Sexual harassment - 2009 versions

More recently, employers have developed high sensitivity to charges of sexual harassment in the workplace. Litigious employees who decided that they wouldn’t take it any more, coupled with law firms possessing the knowledge and skill to obtain nice judgments on behalf of their clients, have brought some previously free-wheeling companies to heel.

Scant attention is paid to those pioneers in the past few decades who endured backlash and worse from monied employers and their in-house counsel . . . they were the ground-breakers. Suggestive texting, snide comments, slyly worded e-mails are some of today’s methods used by those who still try age old harassment techniques with co-workers or even clients and customers.

There is another facet to this problem and its solutions. Today, thanks to the courageous few through the past decades who hung in there to effect change, through the legal system primarily, there are few employees who feel that they are completely without support, if not from their companies, from the public, their co-workers, (even including middle management) and certainly the media. In other words, this type of behavior just isn’t hidden anymore, by anyone involved. Unwanted attentions can’t be easily forced on people who know their rights and have sympathetic backup. In the not so distant past, a person who was subjected to sexual harassment and who complained about it was isolated, often even vilified, by employers.

It is great to be alive and observant in today’s world, where it isn’t ‘us’ against ‘them’ but together we stand, divided we fall. Hard-boiled, insensitive responses from an employer of today regarding harassment issues simply don’t cut it anymore. It appears that we’re getting there.

Deficiency Thinking

So very simple to be generous when there is no perceived deficiency. More difficult is disconnecting one’s own sense of need from the good fortune of those who receive unexpected windfalls of financial support. Deficiency roils the calm waters of complacency.

George Soros, a wealthy investor who has recently given almost a million children $200 each to help with back to school expenses, is unjustly criticized, even vilified by many, who sincerely believe their opinions, and resulting verbal attacks, are just and valid. Rage and resentment toward welfare recipients and immigrants is one form of reasoning used; other include methods of distributing the cash and even Mr. Sotos’ motives for doing so.

What has happened to us? As individuals, members of our communities, as Americans? Have we no compassion, no understanding for those who are less fortunate? For differences of behavior, of handling life? The thread which runs through all the anger comes up again and again as deficiency fear. If money is going anywhere else and we are short, these two become connected in the mind; in fact, the only parallel is our insular thinking.

Maybe we feel responsible, as citizens, as parents. We haven’t received any help that we are willing to at that moment identify (most of us could come up with innumerable instances of support and help through our lives, if we but acknowledge these), so automatically we decide that those who have received help are irresponsible, or they would not need support. If we examine this thinking, it is obviously fallacious. What we do and/or what someone else does, cannot be compared on basic merits. All of us have our own stories. The old “walk a mile in someone’s shoes” would apply here.

It is shocking to see usually sensible people display such fury, a viciously quick willingness to simply disregard any concern for others and their well-being, even including children and the infirm.

If we think we are threatened now, wait until this economic meltdown progresses. We had better get a handle on our emotional reactions and consider our motives. Conditions which we have apathetically tolerated for decades haven’t changed; we have simply, because of the indiscretion and greed of our elected officials and our government, been put ‘behind the eight ball’ as many others have been for all their lives. Suddenly we’ve become aware that we aren’t really middle or upper class as we have believed. We are part of the underprivileged block, the ones who need assistance, the ‘have nothings’ who we’ve despised secretly all along, with some superiority and much dismissal.

It’s an uncomfortable place to find oneself. However, losing one’s character and exhibiting lack of class while attempting to discredit others who are less fortunate will not solve our own feelings of inadequacy or put us in an enhanced category of any kind.

Wake up, America! Change has come . . . and it hasn't begun in the past six months. Do your research honestly, hang on to your cloak of human kindness and roll with it. We are the problem AND the solution. Count to ten . . . and think.

Health Care Plan

National health care . . . hot potato of the moment. Almost desperate opponents, making all sorts of shrill, outrageous charges against the administration and proponents of health care legislation.

There is much confusion in regard to the fact that Medicare and Veteran’s Health Care Administration are also run by the government, and more efficiently than most health care plans, too, for many decades. Let’s hear it for one more health care entity which enables all Americans to have some type of coverage. No program run by any group of people is perfect, and this one will not be either. It will melt into the populace, championed by some and criticized by others; finally, there will be an option for those who can’t pay for private insurance and do not have access to corporate benefits. In addition, no one will be forced to opt for the plan. Everyone still has a choice. Tim Foley’s blog is a great source of accurate information regarding the plan, if anyone’s interested.

What about any of the above rankles so deeply? The cost? Tax dollars are already being spent at a furious pace . . . in the war, on the military, on special perks for members of congress and their families, who do not retire with plain ol’ social security benefits, thanks to special legislation designed and put in place to take care of their own; what do these raging opponents believe they might be able to prevent? And why choose this useful, necessary plan as the target of so many vicious attacks?

There is Medicare (for people 65 and older) and VA (for veterans); both are currently more efficient in every way than privately insured health care . . . why not serve those citizens who do not fall in either of these categories? There are millions, including children and young parents. Those who want to keep their insurance in place are free to do so.

We just need to chill and take care of business.

Cats

Something my great-grandmother told me decades ago . . . ‘never trust a man who hates cats’ . . . comes to mind from time to time in various ways. Cats, by biological nature, are predatory, as is man, or so we must believe. Cats hunt and kill primarily for food for themselves and their young. They do not, en masse, band together and make war on each other or other species, for territorial or other reasons.

I do admire and respect intuitive functioning. It's true that cats are very intuitive, even past the realm of understanding which is admired as ‘reality’ or as the ‘rational’ course to take. People who profess not to like cats may simply be uneasy with or afraid of intuition, theirs or anything else's. Those who have good and workable intuition would not be threatened by a cat, however mysterious these creatures may seem. These people may also be frightened of their own intuitive feelings or thoughts. Fear is at the beginning of any discomfort we experience regarding interaction with any living creature on this planet.

It would not occur to me to get in close proximity with grizzlies or polar bears, or with wild hogs or cobras. Yet they must be admired and respected. They are here. I don’t hate them, or feel revulsion or fear at the sight of them. Big cats are magnificently designed, powerful and lovely to me. No plan to be out on the savanna with them, without reliable cover, comes to me, however.

So perhaps those who ‘hate’ cats . . . the domestic type, little house cats . . . are not so rational after all. It seems an irrational fear, the kind which has no reality of its own except the script we write in our heads to ensure that we feel safe and sound. These cats cannot kill us for food . . . only because they are smaller and less powerful than humans. Maybe it's the knowledge that if they WERE suddenly bigger they would hunt us that creates the fear. Loss of control, imagined or otherwise, is likely the primary issue.

New Orleans

Just realized something about New Orleans . . . it's an incredibly mesmerizing area . . . suggesting pleasures which as of yet have no name and are simply waiting out there, beckoning us to indulge, to relax, lanquidly float toward nirvana. It is as if perception switches from one viewpoint, which may include poverty or violence, to another, arising from needs and desires. A rewriting of the script. And this happens over and over, within a few days, or a week, or immediately if one is receptive. It is difficult or impossible to distinguish between the two, if indeed you’d even want to do so.

It’s as if the entire place is a pipe dream. It doesn’t even matter. After being in New Orleans, there’s a siren song forever in the heart and soul which never will die. A taste, a scent, a few wistful bars of music . . . remembering breezes which truly feel soft to the skin, swaying palms, meticulously restored ancient architecture, muted clinking of flatware and dishes surrounded by scents of food too delicious to describe, sounds of flowing water, the call of a bird. It comes back, beckoning, rolling forth and surrounding the senses, creating longing.

Go, move with the flow without considering change. Accept with grace that deep yearning for comfort. Balmy air, sweet scents, fresh food, music, soft rain on the porch steps. Know these are cherished notions. . . treasure can only be experienced, not possessed. Being present within a gorgeous creation, in quiet enjoyment. That's the truth of it all. It won't stay, and indeed, what makes us imagine we'd want it to? No hanging it on a wall, packing it into luggage, locking it into a room to be admired for centuries. It becomes part and parcel of a brilliant, colorful, intricate life tapestry. New Orleans . . . a sublime gift for the soul.

MAYA

Okay, so today life itself seems more like this miserable road trip, everyone tense and irritable, weather hot and sticky, coffee from the drive-through at BK tepid, and the 8 year old in the crowd got the wrong order for breakfast. This after entering traffic again, sitting at the first stoplight, in the turn lane already, 30 feet from the Interstate entrance.

Put the hue and cry on hold for a moment: just exactly why, in the name of all that is holy, did you DO this? What were you thinking? Maya . . . illusion. Visions of singing along with each other, everyone excited about a destination, rare and stimulating conversation among members of your family, (who, 51 weeks each year, reside in the house with each other grudgingly, and speak only when necessary, usually in monosyllables), a getaway which instantly bonds the little group of loved ones who make up your world.

The travel guide was lies, all lies. The hour long drive across the park, supposed to enthrall everyone with breath-taking views, was less than successful since no weird animals approached the car desperate to be fed . . . the 14 year old, having been informed by the 16 year old what was actually IN the meat tacos she just ate from the roadside stand, makes a frantic dash for the restroom, returning pale, glowering and downright belligerent.

Suddenly, all that is floating across your mind is that bottle of good Scotch you so cheerfully and carelessly left sitting in the sideboard. There’s an almost uncontrollable need to stop the car, force everyone out, and drive away.

Next time, send all persons in the household under 20 years old to camp (and no one over 20 is allowed to return home, except at Thanksgiving and Christmas, for a maximum of 3 days) and hit the road, just you and your significant other. And make sure (this is the most important factor in your enjoyment of any trip) that it’s the ‘good’ time of the month. Otherwise, there’s always a better than average chance that your trust in travel magazines will be completely and forever obliterated, you will lose your childlike belief in good endings, and you may shortly be trolling around on craigslist for a new home, not to mention partner.

MM's Legacy

Marilyn Monroe left us on this day in 1962 . . . born in 1926, having become an icon of desirability, vulnerability, extreme absence of culpability . . . achieving delicious fame as a woman who could embody flamboyance and still beguile husbands such as baseball great Joe Dimaggio and playwright Arthur Miller. Not to mention several partners who necessarily stand on a secret side of public view.

What did all these men, and the general public, find so appealing? Accessibility fantasies? Simply sex appeal? Partially. We want our heroes to exhibit our deeply felt needs . . . beauty, allure, popularity. We want, like Marilyn, to be taken seriously. And we want to possess softness. In fact, we want to experience softness. To have erected no defensive mechanisms, to completely trust, to love without reserve. However, best to wistfully see someone else cross those safe lines . . .we're satisfied with enjoying vicariously the fruits of someone else's orchard of life.

Marilyn Monroe went for it, unerringly, could not stop herself from going for whatever looked wonderful to her. She wanted not security, as we erect it for ourselves, looking all around to be certain our boundaries and parameters lack holes and entryways - but disconnection from societal restrictions; she lived in open spaces with no gates, quietly, fiercely retaining her freedom to choose.

In fact, organization, routine, time urgency, angst-filled compliance with any agenda other than her own eluded her, creating much criticism and tut-tutting about her lack of concern for others and their programs.

Maybe we all should just go for it. Throw caution to the winds, identify what we love, full speed ahead!

Joy

What, each day, happens in life to make joy? See to it. Deliberately identify, outline, and pinpoint something which creates joy. Then make it occur, each day, each week, each month of life. Begin to expect it. Glorify its existence. Think of it as a glittering, sparkling fountain of excitement. Accept nothing less, simply do not acknowledge that it could ever be absent. Far from selfishly demanding, this is connection to divine wisdom . . . the peace that passes understanding, as mentioned in the Bible. It's a mind exercise, the supreme mental process. Why not?

unclear agendas

Dead eye syndrome tends to result when we service agendas which do not serve our best interests . . . or any interest of ours at all, for that matter. Being present in the moment will do little to ameliorate an agenda which isn't focused toward everyone equally . . . at least one which considers and includes all viewpoints. If one person or group (family, office, community, country) isn't seen or heard in the broad scheme of action for the whole, it is not simply the ignored suffering . . . everyone will, sooner or later, pay for this oversight. Shared agendas create optimal functioning.

" . . . a clear mind and no agenda." Byron Katie, 1,000 Names For Joy, p. 77

Dead Eyes

There are an infinite number of ways to be dead to the moment. Yes, you can walk around in a cloud of misery or discontent, heavy sighing your way through life. But you can also be so in your own head that you are not even really aware of anything going on around you. Living in the past, living in the future, living in the NOT REAL. Attention, thought, emotion are focused on things that are not present, things that live only in your mind. This type of dead eyes may look more like a deer in headlights or a frowning emptiness rather than a heavy sigh, but it's just as disconnected from what IS. Breathe. Come back. It's all right here.

"Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the peace of God."
- A Course in Miracles