Who'd You Say I Was?

Who'd you say I was?  I've kinda forgotten.  I thought I had a handle on it, but it somehow got away again.  Just when the fog lifts and the horizon can be seen, evening descends and everything gets dark again.  So  tell me again, who am I?

I know, this is sorta weird.  When you get to be my age, you pretty much have an idea of who you are.  Too bad there aren't so many possibilities ahead.  But still, there are possibilities.  There are dreams in my head and in my heart and I still believe that miracles do happen.

I heard someone singing the song. I Gotta Be Me, just a little while ago.  I guess that is what started this bit of introspection.  I remember hearing that song when I was a teenager.  Sammy Davis Jr.  Imagine.  I was struggling with who I was and what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Funny, I think I have spent my whole life trying to figure that out.  Its not to late.  I can still figure it out.  I can still be me and have it all.  Yep.

So, now, tell me, who did you say I was?  I guess I wasn't listening.  Or, no, maybe I was.  And maybe I thought, wow, maybe they are right!  Who am I to be "me".  Maybe they know something I don't.  No, not you.  You are a someone I trust or I wouldn't be writing this here and now.  No, I respect your opinion and in the end, whoever you say you think I am only helps me define for myself who I REALLY not.  This, not that, a little of that, more of this, none of that.  Bits and pieces, impressions and reactions. They all form a picture in my mind of who I am.  And the mirror, you, doesn't lie.  Thanks for being my mirror.  I think I see clearly now.  I think I remember who you said I am.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbXQ-Dh1EyA&feature=related

Thinking Again

There are times when there is so much on your mind that, well, it is difficult to think of anything else.  Well, I guess it is true because I find I am thinking about a lot of thing right now but none of them especially thought provoking.  Now if you are confused by this, just think about how it feels to be the one thinking this.

I went to Google to look for ideas on what to think about.  Surprisingly, Google was not helpful today.  Somehow I landed on videos of the old song from the 1950's about the Flying Purple People Eater.  That led to other videos about songs from the '50's like My Friend the Witch Doctor and Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.  Now these were songs I tell you.  Not necessarily because they were deep, meaningful or in any way inspirational. But one thing they definitely were: FUN!   

I am thinking that something somewhat in the Great Beyond is telling me, stop thinking so much and have FUN!  Oh, my goodness.  I am not sure I can handle that.  But I sure do like and would love to have again, a good giggle.  So today I will be singing (at least in my head) Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah, On Top of Spaghetti, Monster Mash, and I'm 'enry the Eight, I Am".    The words are silly but make your mouth happy as the words make your lips, tongue and tonsils (if you have them) dance!  That is shear joy, making a joyful noise just for the unabashed fun of it!  Remember: Don't Worrry, Be Happy!

Note: April 27 is the 117th day of the year (118th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. There are 248 days remaining until the end of the year.  There's more time than you think to be happy.

Don't Think of a Purple Elephant

Listen now, I say, do not think of a purple elephant.  Ignore the picture above.  Get it out of your mind.  Purple elephants do not exist, at least not naturally.  There is no such thing as a purple elephant.  Now stop!  Just cut it out.  Think about the flower the elephant is holding.  "What," you say?  "Elephants don't hold floweres and sit on their hips."  There you go again.  I tell you to think about the flower the elephant is holding and you are thinking about the elephant and that he is purple and that elephants, purple or not, do not hold flowers.  But this particular one is holding a flower.  Think about the flower.  Forget the elephant.  Purple elephants do not exist, remember?

I give up.  Think about the elephant.  Think about how purple it is.  Purple is a lovely color.  Purple passion.  Purple rage.  Purple haze.  Eggplants, some grapes, raisins, lilacs, plums, my face if I hold my breath long enough.  All purple.  Just not elephants.  Elephants are not purple.  So don't think about purple elephants, I dare you.  

Seriously, the more I say don't, you do.  What is it about purple elephants that is so fascinating for you?  I understand it is the image you mind focuses on as an anchor.  It doesn't necessarily hear the "don't".  So if you don't want to think about a purple elephant, you will need to think of something else.  Think about it.

No, not a cat thinking, think about it!

The Dead Bird in My Dishwasher

If anything happens to me in the next while, please explain that I don't normally keep dead birds in the dishwasher.

Let me explain.  Last night I was sitting quietly reading a book.  I was in my living room and it was very quiet, no TV, no radio, even outside it was peaceful.  Then I heard it.  It was the odd, low meow that my cat Nina makes when she has brought me another present.  Sigh.  I put down the book just as Tater and Ching Ching caught on that something was up.  We all ran to the dining room, me shouting, "No! No! Stay back!  Nina, drop it!"  I had hopes I was in time.

I was not.

I told the dogs to leave the room.  I stomped my foot and Nina dropped her prey.  A little grey bird fell to the floor.  It seemed to be fluttering...just a bit.  Just a slight flash of life.  Nina jumped up on a chair.  The dogs stood by.  I approached closer with some trepidation.  On the floor there it was.  Its wings were spread out.  I was still hopeful it had survived.  I ran to the kitchen and got an old dishtowel.  I grabbed an empty box from the recycle.  Gently I scooped up the poor thing and wrapped it in the towel and placed it in the box.

I thanked Nina.  I gave the dogs half a bisquit each.  I called my friend who knows about birds.

"They usually freeze when attacked, don't they?"  I asked, already suspecting the truth of the situation. "Don't they?"

"Sometimes,"  he said.  "I am on my way."

I waited.  I wanted to open the box and check but I thought, no, it might fly out and be disoriented and hurt itself.  Who knew at this point?  It was safe in the box, wasn't it?  I thought about that movie Paul which I had seen recently.  They characters are travelling in a van down a highway and accidentally hit bird. It is killed and lies on the highway. They stop to help it.  Paul gets out, tells them to stand back and works some extra-terrestial magic (Paul is an alien ala E.T.) and the bird comes to life.  I won't tell you what happens next although you may have seen it in the previews on TV.  So, I thought, why couldn't this happen to this little unfortunate creature?

My friend arrived.  Within minutes he pronounced the bird dead.  Dead.  Dead.

"Do you want the towel?" he asked.  "No," I said.  "Do you want to throw it out then?"  But seeing the look on my face, he immediately added, "or bury it?"

I said I would bury it in the morning.  It was late.  It was dark.  The neighbors might wonder.

I wanted to put the bird somewhere it would be safe, where one of the cats or the dogs wouldn't try to get it.  It deserved more than being tossed into the trash.  I thought, the dishwasher.  It was empty and I could run it before using it again (as if something would jump off the dead bird in the night and befowl the appliance).  And so there it rested all night, still there now.

So I am about to take it out and bury it, deep, in the garden.  Maybe say a little prayer.  I know, maybe I am loony, but on Easter...how could I do anything else? So here I go now.  If I live through the next twenty minutes, the bird will be out of the dishwasher and the cycle end and begin again, both that of the dishwasher and the bird and me.

Bless the little bird.  Forgive the cat.  It is all part (a difficult part though) of life's realities.

The Miracle of a Single Flower Clearly

If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change. 

~ Buddha

On this Earth Day we take time to honor the Earth and all it gives to us. It is literally our source and our support.  We live on Earth.  It is our home.  As my young friend and artist, Cameron, said today, "we live on a being."  And no matter your spiritual beliefs or lack thereof, it was created for us with us and in essence, as us.  We, along with Earth, co-exist and to not live in harmony will lead to certain calamity.  Without Earth we would obviously cease to exist. 

Coincidentally today is also Good Friday.  In the history of mankind no greater story has been told.  It is the resurrection of all that is holy.  Springing forth from the Earth, new life and the promise that it will continue on in eternity.  Yes, Jesus promised eternal life.  And because eternity is a concept we cannot wrap our finite minds around, we accept on faith and, yes, know instinctively, the life will go on even if we, its stewards, fail at our jobs.

So as the Buddha said, if we could only see clearly the miracle in a single flower, we would never, ever disrespect Nature and God again.  As Mark Twain once said, "Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."

Running Out of April

I came across the following quote of a computer programmer named Rob Knauerhase while doing a Google search for quotes about the month of April.  "Isn't it appropriate that the month the taxes begins with April Fool's Day and ends with cries of 'May Day!'?".  I was looking for something to lead this particular blog entry as I was pondering the fast passing of yet another month. I think it is perfect.     

Yet perhaps the line with which T.S. Eliot starts his "The Waste Land" with "April is the cruelest month, breeding/Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/Memory and desire, stirring/dull roots with spring rain," is even better.   Is April a cruel month?  It does stir the dormant roots with its spring rain.  Is that "cruel"?  Perhaps Eliot means it is cruel to wake the dead...but then, are the dead ever truly dead?  Perhaps this is an allusion to the parable of Jesus waking Lazarus?  Perhaps it is alluding to the fact that no one is dead as long as they are remembered by others.

Then there is the proverb, "April showers bring forth May flowers" which is a definite truism to be sure.  Everywhere, every year, April is traditionally a rainy month.  Perhaps that is why I love it.  I love the rain, the clouds, the cool days that have the promise of spring blooms and coming warmth.  It is the potential I am enamored out.  As long as I feel there is a potential in things, it gives me reason to carry on. This is why I lament the passing of April. 

April means moving from potentiality into fruition, of the seeding days to the blooms of spring.  There is inspiration that comes in April as the world wakes from its winter hibernation. 

I found the following poem at poemhunter.com by Carolyn Brunnell that says it for me:

April Awakening

A delicately woven welcome; 

a soft touch for each blossom, 

a tease of every velvet blade of new grass 

pushing up through weary soil. 

I press each stamen close to my face 

light and flirtatious; 

tiptoe aimless with no worries or cares 

on such a delicious and fragrant day. 

April's warm sunshine speaks to nature 

in a language few understand; 

awakens and coaxes me into the sky 

where I can learn to be a butterfly.

---Carolyn Brunelle

Once again we are running out of April.  Potential is again becoming reality in bloom. It is and annual reality that symbolically mirrors our lives.  I long to remain in April even as I enter the September years of my life.  I am not yet ready to harvest.  I hang on to potential with a quiet ferocity only I can know.  I yearn to be Brunnelle's butterfly.  I do not long to shout "May Day!"...not until the time is come.  That is why I hope to never run out of April.

Thinking About God

I have been thinking about a lot these days.  I talk with God all the time.  I am sure God talks to me.  Sometimes I hear but do not listen.  Sometimes I listen and I do not hear.  But I know God is always still speaking.

I carefully try not to refer to God as "Him" or "Her" or "It" because God for me is so much more than any of those individually or combined.  We cannot limit God.  We can only be limited by our own finite ability to understand.  There is no way we can transcend our current forms here on earth.  Even allowing ourselves to go into communion with God, we cannot know all that God is.  If we open ourselves to hearing God, though, we cannot help but be filled by the what some might call a holy spirit leading us to become the expression of the true selves God intends  us to be.

Just loving God is not enough.  And accepting God is only a step.  Surrendering to God only says we don't have faith in the abilities God blessed us with.  God is.  We are.  We are not just together.  We are one.  We are one with the One, that which created us.

Oh, I think I sometimes just want to shake my head and not think about it.  It can become too overwhelming.  That is when I realize I am just human and will never be able to fully comprehend the nature of God at least not while a human here on Earth.  We cannot ever hope to fully understand that which is infinite as we were born and we die.  That is the only thing we know for sure.  The infinite, the universe, that being we call and know as God, we cannot contain so we cannot ever hope to fully understand.  We can only rest on the everlasting arms of faith, and know that whatever God is, God is more than even that.

Random Thoughts, Free-Floating Musings

I often think to myself, "Is this what I signed up for?"  Usually it is.

Some things are better left alone.  Some things are better alone.  Some things are alone.  Some things are along.  Some things are left.  Enough, some things are enough.

It seems easier to think deep thoughts on a cloudy day.

Right justified.  Centered.  Left justified.  Squared.  Ragged Robin.

Its all in how its laid out.

I am not ready to surrender to my own increasing obsolescence, yet there are times when I am glad I am on the way out.

excecutivecareerinsights.com

I wonder...nothing more....I just wonder.

http://2.bp.blogspot.com

If it weren't for my dogs and cats I would have no idea what life is all about.

Sharing a laugh...

Location.  Location. Location.
That's where its at...really.

Old soap operas are like memories in an alternate uniververse that parralelled my life...a shared history leaving me wondering who's is real and who's is not.

And so, as the world turns and we continue our search for tomorrow, we find the edge of night and an approaching secret storm.   But if we look we find the guiding light that will keep all my children safe with one life to live.
And so it is.

Crisis Sue and Suicide Bettie

Sometimes old friends are the best.  They are in your life and remain in your life for a reason.  Many years ago, back in the days when I was in college, majoring in psychology, (what was a thinking?), I volunteered for the Suicide and Crisis Hotline in San Bernardino.  I wound up staying with the line for about ten years.  It was there I met my dear friends Sue and Bettie.

Now Sue was the director and Bettie was one of the founders.  Sue and I were at Cal State together.  Sue "recruited" me for the hotline and of course I thought it would be great experience for someone who was at the time thinking of becoming a therapist specializing in personal growth.  What I am sure I was thinking was "life coach" but that was long before that term was coined.

http://becausemomsaidso.com/
motivational-monday-charles-schulzs-philosophy/

Anyway, Bettie and Sue are two of those people who are just there for you.  They know how to listen and they do not judge.  Sue deals well with crises and Bettie deals well with people on the brink.  I have been both at one time or another.  My personal knicknames of Crisis Sue and Suicide Bettie came about when I distinquish them from other Betties and Sues in my life.  But truly, there is no one like either one of them.  I cherish them both.

It is good to have people like these in your life.  They just accept you and laugh with you and are life affirming.  When we get together to laugh and sometimes a tear is shed, but not often.  We love to giggle about the silliest things and it doesn't take much to set us off.  And absolutely no subject is taboo.  I don't think Bettie will object if I reveal that she will be 93 this year.  Sue is about six years younger than I.  It just shows age has nothing to do with anything when it comes to friends, true friends, friends for life.

Yesterday we spent the day at Bettie's home near the beach.  Sue and I drive down to see her about once a month.  On the way home I became a little wistful.  With a milestone birthday of my own approaching this summer, I wondered if my life had amounted to much.  I never acheived those airy dreams of my youth, but I did survive them.  Sue turned to me and said, "You have affected many lives for the better, my friend.  You probably will never know."  I thought to myself, now that is a true friend.  Both Bettie and Sue (who do read this blog) have contributed to the welfare and betterment of so many people around them, I sit in awe.  To have them as friends is a blessing beyond imagination.   That is what life is really about.

More Than Elmer's Glue, Less Than Super Bondo

There are times I feel quite torn.  That is when I know I need something more than Elmer's glue.  I don't need Super Bondo or anything like that.  I just need something to keep me from getting fragmented.  Fortunately when I feel torn, I don't usually come apart, so maybe scotch tape will help.  I definitely don't need Uline Duct Tape, no matter how many colors it comes it.  I do have to say duct tape can fix just about anything though.  It is the handyperson's best friend.  When the window in your car cracks or the ceiling in your kitchen begins to crumble, duct tape is a great (if temporary) fix-it.

But I digress, which may be part of the problem.

I am a big picture kind of guy.  I like to look at the whole picture.  But then I get engulfed in the multi-faceted aspect of all the life situations I find myself involved in.  Now there is the problem maybe!  I examine things too much, over-ruminate.   Just do it.  Just go for it.  Is this people pleasing?  Me?  Hahahahaha!

I'm afraid so.

But I am getting better.  I am saying "no" more frequently these days.  I finally learned that saying "yes" to things you are not really inclined to say yes to is not fair to the other person and even more unfair to yourself.

So really, I imagine I am not torn at all.  I usually know my heart.  It is on my sleeve afterall.  It's my brain no one can see.  They just see the results of my brain's conjurations.  And then only if I open my mouth and share.

So what now?  I am not torn, just frayed.  I'm not fragmented, I'm faceted.   Overall, I am okay, normal even...and if I'm not, please don't tell me.  Then I would really need Super Bondo and a big roll of  duct tape and all the king's horses...just might be enough to patch me up.

The Boy Who Loved Elsie the Cow

When I was young I had a wild crush on Elsie the Cow.  Now it can be revealed.  Now this could be somewhat troubling looking back to this youthful insanity. But I also thought my grandmother was also "I Love Lucy" on TV and Lassie lived with my aunt in California (she had collies), the crush was just kind of silly.  

I remember thinking Elsie had a great smile and oh, that wonderful twinkle in her eye!  My mother had sent in for a brooch with Elsie's likeness on it surrounded by a large daisy, much like in the picture here.  I am sure I thought my mother actually knew Elsie and Elsie had given this to her personally.  (I think I still have that brooch somewhere.) I also liked the daisies.  They were big black-eyed Susan's like the ones that grew along our fence in front of our house.

But alas, is it any wonder if my boyhood crush came to an end when I learned Elsie was married...to Elmer the Bull!  That's right, THAT Elmer, the one of Elmer's Glue fame.  I must have realized there was no future for me with Elsie under those circumstances.  (The other more obvious reasons did not become apparent to me until sometime later.)  To adher to such a flour based that was outside the box would surely end my days of cut and paste when cut and paste meant cutting out sillouettes from construction paper and gluing them to the bulletin board as an art project.

To this day, I remember Elsie fondly.  She is the symbol of a simpler day when milk was unchallengeable as healthy for us and we didn't worry about over-eating because we played hide and seek, tag, jump rope and ran races, rode bikes and did athletic stunts on monkey bars every night after school and all day Saturday.  Fat had no chance of accumulating in our arteries and we believed it when they said, "Milk, it does a body good."

*********

A Brief History of Elsie according to Wikipedia:

Elsie was created in the 1930s to symbolize the 'Perfect Dairy Product' and made an appearance at the New York World's Fair in 1939.  Her husband was Elmer the Bull, later lent to Borden's chemical division as the mascot for Elmer's Glue. Their offspring included Beulah, Beauregard (born 1948), and twins Larabee and Lobelia (born 1957). She is buried at Walker-Gordon Farm (now a housing development) in Plainsboro Township, New Jersey.

If the River Runs Dry

Once upon a time on a lovely spring day in April, I was walking the dogs down to the river.  Tater was pulling forward and Ching Ching trying to claim every bush in his little boy dog manner.  The clouds were drifting lazily along the horizon as the sun began to rise.  The sky was clearing after the night's rain and it promised to be a beautiful day.

My  mind began to wander as it often does on our walks.  Thoughts about the meaning of life and what I wanted for breakfast competed in my brain for attention.  The crisp air and birds singing in the early morning air inspired hopes of a very productive day of creativity ahead.

Tater stopped to investigate an carelessly tossed piece of trash while Ching impatiently tugged at the leash to continue on to the river.  We walked on down the little dirt path to the sandy banks of the trickle of water called the might Santa Ana.  Even after an exceptionally rainy winter, there was very little water flowing down from the snow capped San Bernardino's to the Pacific, at least here, in Riverside.  The river, it seems, went underground years ago.

Today that is how the flow of my creativity seemed to be: flowing somewhere deep inside not accessible to me.  The riverbed, it seems, was dry.  In that moment of realization I was alarmed.  Would the waters of inspiration ever rise again?  Would the flow ever arise from my inner source?  My fears again seemed to becoming true.  I would never write again.  There would be no musings, no thoughts quirky or otherwise.  It was the end.

And then I started with once upon a time....

Some Thoughts are Best Left Unthought

Sometimes it just gets too late to think.  Sometimes, when the day has been particularly eventful, even maybe a little stressful...well, even very stressful indeed, the urge to think just takes a back seat to the urge to, surprise, not think.

Now I this might be a little difficult to grasp.  I don't mean to come across as condescending.  It is just that it is late and I am tired.  I sat down and I thought I would think of something to write about, but I just haven't thought of a thing.  I now find myself thinking about how sometimes inspiration comes like a flash and is then pushed aside by a sudden distraction like a hunger pang or a rush of wind through the wind chimes outside your door.  It becomes a war of sorts and thinking just flies away like a fleeting thought.

So, does thinking about thinking or thought count as thinking about something to think about or am I just getting a bit punchy?  Perhaps I should stop before I push the beyond the limits of my limited capacity to think is exceeded.  In other words, this is going no where fast but it was fun getting there.

Sometimes a thought is just a thought.  Other times it is beyond anything anyone could every think of.  Just think about that!

Wasting Time -- 3 Non-Time-Wasting Ways to Think About

Bertrand Russell once said, "The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."  Now there's a quote meant just for me.  Somehow "wasting time" elicited feelings of guilt and sometimes shame.  After all, time is a precious commodity.  It is all we have really and to waste it is, well, a cardinal sin, isn't it?  Or so I thought.  But now I realize that maybe this is not so.

First, you cannot waste something that does not exist.  Time is a construct of man to better order his world and activities.  We need a mutally agreed upon means to intersect and achieve our goals and objectives.  All we have is now but if we only live in the now, we could lose all track of....well....time.

Second, who says doing something you enjoy is wasting time?  Some of the most valuable discoveries in life are made while doing something totally unrelated.  Haven't you ever had the "aha" experience while in the shower?  Haven't you suddenly realized the solution to that nagging problem at work while watching "I Love Lucy"?  Didn't your ever suddenly happen on a new way of looking at the universe while idly gazing at the Big Dipper?

Third, wasting time is a great way to give the mind some much needed R & R.  If you are constantly using every moment of the day and night to work on things that matter, you will become very tired...even burn out.  Play is what makes life worth living.  Even just sitting not thinking, dreaming or even meditating...just  emersing yourself in a emptyminded mindlessness...gives the mind and your spirit and your soul a much needed chance to regenerate.

So there you have it.  You really cannot waste time.  Time is not real therefore you cannot use it, conserve it or even spend it.  It is as intangible yet real as is the spirit and the soul.  It is always and ever and will always and ever be.  Time, my friend, is on your side.

Finally, in the words of Albert Einstein,  "The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once."  Now that makes sense.

5 Things You Need to Furnish Your Mind

'Since we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our minds, our one duty is to furnish it well' ~ Peter Ustinov


There are five things I believe one ought to consider when your mind goes blank and you consider what you want to use to refurnish it.


1.  Consider the environment.  What do you see when you look in the mirror?  Have you come to grips with what you may have thought of as "imperfections"?  No matter your physicality, you have been blessed with a body to experience life.  It is up you to take care of it.  


2.  Think about what you give your attention to.  Does what you read, what you watch on television or the movies somehow enrich your experience of life?  Sure, its okay to have some mind candy now and then, but it is important to furnish your mind with things that not only support what you already know and believe, but challenge you with new ideas and alternative ways of thinking.


3. Love.  You need to furnish your mind with love.  Begin with yourself.  It is much easier for others to love you if you love yourself.  This can be a tough one if you fear appearing egotistical or self-centered.  That is not what I mean.  I mean accepting yourself and knowing that even though you are not perfect (who is?) you are totally lovable.  Keep mental souvenirs of the good times and let the rest go to the recycle bin.


4. Furnish you mind with friends, family, pets and anyone you feel good about being with.  Populate your life with people who support you and in general accept you warts and all.  Play with them, eat with them, go places and let them challenge you to be all you can be.  


5. Lastly, gather symbols and totems that represent what ideals you hold dear.  Use them to reflect about what is important to you.  Your personal sense of morality is what keeps you upright.  Without a sense of right and wrong, your mind may as well remain empty.  Fill it with that which inspires you, nurtures you and makes you a respectable human being.

Keeping It Light

I try to keep it light.  No one wants to hear the rants of old, cranky, curmudgeon unless, like Andy Rooney, it is entertaining and a bit sly.  On Monday though it is very easy to sound very much like an old curmudgeon as another week begins and you reality seems to set in.

In assessing the weekend one ponders why every day cannot be a Saturday or Sunday.  Of course one must remind oneself that for some, Saturday and/or Sunday may be just another work day like ER doctors and nurses, ministers, firemen and police officers to name a few.  But even they have their days off and whether those are weekend days or weekdays, they are days when they seem to have opportunities to pursue hobbies and recreation that they enjoy.

So where am I going with this?  I don't know for sure.  It is Monday for heaven's sake.  Who thinks clearly on Monday morning?  I am fortunate to be able to spend Monday morning working in my garden and walking the dogs.  I do have meetings to prepare for and volunteer assignments I have, well, volunteered for.  And most are because I want to do them.  Most.

I guess I am thinking about how curmudgeonly I can get at times.  I do have my views on how things should be and, darn it, I can't understand why they are not that way.  Youth should be taught reverence why they are in church.  Politicians and Charlie Sheen to think before they speak.  Social discourse should be respectful and polite.  Sure, heated debate is healthy, but not when it devolves into venemous rhetoric and nasty mud slinging.  One should have a reverence for life and for whatever one percieves to be that which is behind it all....whatever one believes that to be.  And we should be reverent of other people's beliefs and desires to maintain a sense of decorum and respect in the schools, in churches, the public sector and in all the mass communications.

See, I told you it was Monday.  I warned you, but you kept on reading.  I am smiling to myself right now.  Sometimes it is fun to be curmudgeonly.  Not cranky, but a but constipated I suppose.  I guess that is why it feels good to let it all out now and then.  And what better day to do it than on Monday?

April Fool's

Its April first and you know what that means!  Jokes and pranks are flying fast and furious.  Somehow, though, I got through the day with no pranks or surprises.  But that started me thinking.  Maybe there is more to April Fool's Day than meets the eye.  Maybe, just maybe, it is not all about catching people off guard, scaring them with some outrageous claim or making jokes at other people's expense...just maybe it is all about love.

Now I am a fool for love.  I still believe in romance.  Even though I have not had a serious romantic relationship in more years than I care to think about, I still think it is possible.  Call me a fool, but I believe anything is possible.  Foolishly I suppose, I still believe that someday that someone is going to be hit with Cupid's arrow at the same exact moment as I.   Love at first sight?  I don't rule it out.

Also, I am basically an optimist.  I do believe that no matter what happens in life, we are going to come out somehow better on the other side.  Even when we die, I believe something...even it is just the redistribution of our phyical materials and essential enery into some new and exiting form, I do believe we go on.  This I believe even if it is just in someone's memory of us.  No fooling.  I think it is so.

They say in the old song that fools rush in where angels fear to tread.  If fools did not rush in, well, no one would ever take a chance, would they?  Foolishly sometimes, other times fool-heartily, people do risk their very settled lives to maybe realize a long-held dream or burst of inspiration.  Angels may fear, but I think something like angels follow them into whatever venture they set out on.  If you are afraid of appearing the fool, then you will need to be satisfied with never knowing if you could have.....

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.  With experience comes wisdom.  What appears to be a foolish gesture, may in fact be the best thing you could ever have done.  You never know until you try.  Until you are willing to play the fool, you can never be the sage.  There may truly be no fool like an old fool, but fools are what makes life interesting.  Suffers fools with love in your heart and the same will come back to you when it is your turn to play the fool.

So I think it is true what I said: there is more to this April Fool's thing than meets the eye.  Play with it.  Any fool can see there is more to life than getting by.  And when you come to rest and reflect, you will be glad you lived at least a day in a fool's paradise....no foolin'!