My New Site

I've been busy working on a new website complete with a blog and a photo display case.  I appreciate your past support and patience as I have been reinventing myself online!  

Here's the link to the site:

http://www.qwerkirob.net/

Soon you can subscribe if you like, but it will also appear regularly on Facebook!

Check it out and let me know what you think.

Rob

All the Doodle Da Day

The doodles to pictured here are the images I always seem to pen when doodling; or something very similar.  I never really thought about it until the other day when I caught myself doodling while on terminal wait while calling for a real human being to talk to about an issue.  If that doesn't drive you to doodle, nothing will.

Strangely enough, I noticed as I doodled, that I always tend to doodle the same type things.  There is the "magic box" that flip-flops the part closet to you.  Sometimes I do this one with triangles.  It is just so intriguing to me that the eye gets tired and makes the image change.  Sometimes I blacken two of the squares.  It still does the flip-flop.  This is a cognitive issue that I am sure has been studied.  But for me, it is just a fun exercise.

I always draw a star.  A five pointed one. One line, criss-crossing until the star appears.  Sometimes I include a moon, a crescent moon.  I see I didn't here.  Then of course a sun.  And my suns are usually round with the rays attached.  Sometimes they aren't attached.  I imagine that is a happier doodle moment.  Then there is the strange looking dog.  Looks more like a wolf...from another planet.  But he always looks happy.  And of course a cat face.  This one seems rather moon-faced.  Usually my cat doodles have more character.  Not sure why this one looks so blank.

There are always trees and little houses.  The trees are usually pine-like, like this one, or with a thick trunk and cloud-like leaves.  I always draw an eye.  That eye always seems to need another eye.  Then a nose, an eyebrow leading down to a nose and a mouth.  This mouth pictured here is rather plain.  Sometimes I give them full lips and teeth and on rare occaisions, a tongue is sticking out.  My faces vary somewhat, but all seem to be from the same family with similar facial characteristics.  I have no idea who this family is, though.

A doodle revery would not be complete without a spiral of some kind like the one in the upper right-hand corner.  Sometimes these turn into tornados. I like drawing tornados and whirlwinds, even though I have never really seen either of those in person and would prefer not too.

I always have to practice my numbers and my lettering.  I try all sorts of styles.  Numbering and scripts are fascinating to me.  Nowadays you can get whatever font you want on your computer.  It is not the same, though, as putting pen to paper.  Of course I say that while typing on my laptop.  Convenience and speed does have its benefits.  But I still like to hand-write.  And I feel very sad that cursive writing is not being taught in many schools and soon will be like a foreign language to the coming generations.  

Until then, I will practice penning my letters and numbers the old fashioned way while waiting on the phone or just waiting for inspiration to strike.  Sometimes the hand-pen-paper connection loosens the imagination and brings out the most interesting things.  But don't get any ideas. I am not going to take these to an analyst any time soon.  I am not sure I want to know why my doodles re-occur so much, even since childhood.  Maybe habit, maybe rote learning, maybe just something comfortable that connects today with yesterday.  Who knows?  And ultimately, a doodle is a doodle....all the doodle da day.

Oh, one more thing I just noticed!  I usually doodle a daisy of sorts.  Round center, symetric petals, a long stem with ivy-like leaves.  Hmmm.  Now I am sure that having omitted that favorite has some sort of meaning....or not.  All I know is to doodle is to doodle.  And that's the truth.  Doodle that.

Shared Experiences

This picture of my faithful little companions, Ching Ching and Tater Totte, was taken a few years ago.  Every time I look at it, I remember the moment and how they seemed to be sharing a good laugh while I looked on.  They are companions if life.  They are best friends.  Inseparable.  They eat, sleep, walk, play, do everything, together.  They are the definition of what it means to have shared experiences.  They not only share their experiences, but mine, when I am with them.

Ching came first to live with me.  Not long after, Tater was found and I adopted her.  They are the best friends a man could have.  And they are best friends to each other.  That, I often find myself thinking, is what life is all about.  Shared experience.

Sure, it is good to do some things alone.  Sometimes you just gotta get away and do some thinking and ruminating.  Sometimes you need to go off to yourself and reflect on life’s many facetted aspects.  There is always something that needs examining and there are times when you can only do that alone.  But the bottom line is, sharing experiences with others is what life is all about.

Carol Burnett always sang at the end of her variety show in the ‘60s and ‘70s, “I'm so glad we had this time together, Just to have a laugh, or sing a song. Seems we just get started and before you Know it comes the time we have to say, “So long".  That really sums it up.  You could add to that, “to give a hug or shed a tear”, too.  The importance of being together, sharing life’s ups and downs, is part of what makes us human.  Dogs too.

Just for fun and sentiment, here is a link to Carol singing that song:

Carol Burnett Singing "I'm So Glad We Had This Time Together"

The Cactus Blooms

"Bloom where you're planted."
Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622)

I was coming down from Mount Rubidoux, walking along 9th Street, when I saw this amazing cactus in full bloom in a curbside garden.  Someone had skillfully managed to make it appear that the cactus had actually split the rock in growing.  What struck me most about this plant, however, was not its staging, but its shear exhuberance.  I have seen cacti in bloom before, but this one seemed particularly awesome.  So many blooms!  The effervencent color! I just had to stand and stare a moment or two.

Then I began to wonder about this little cactus, here, in this small residential garden, just sitting there, blooming its fool head off.  It made me think.  Why aren't we just blooming idiots like this plant?  What on earth do we have to lose?  Just be happy and show the world what you've got!  Maybe it won't last, but what does?  The image of this little cactus with magenta flowers will forever last in my mind now.  It gave me such joy, not only for a moment, but for a long time to come.  It, well, it actually inspired me.

You've heard of stopping and smelling the roses.  Well, there's a heck of a lot more to observe and enjoy than just roses.  And I think I have as much to give the world as this little succulant does.  Who knows how long this guy was working up to this show?  One moment in time.  That's all it takes to last a lifetime...that's all we need, moment after moment after moment...

“All the flowers of tomorrow are in the seeds of yesterday”
Old Proverb

And Then There Were Five

And then there were five

I had just left the front porch and was at the kitchen sink when I heard the crash.  It was more like a “clack”, glass on glass as it were.  “Oh, no!” I thought, stiffening.  When I went back onto the front porch where I had been sitting ready the paper, it was not Tater up on my chair about to scarf up the unfinished leftover sandwich sitting on the table that truly dismayed me.  No, although that would have been not good because I am sure the green-fried tomato and ham grilled ham sandwich from Appleby’s would surely have upset her tummy; no, that was not was made my heart sink.  As I ran out to the porch, I saw was had happened.

I should have known better than to leave the glass unattended as windy as it had gotten outside.  It was the still half-full glass of iced tea (see, I am an optimist!) I had left on the table to go into the kitchen to do, what, I cannot recall now.  Anyway, a gust of wind had somehow managed to lift up the folded paper bag that the LA Times had inserted into my Sunday newspaper with the promotion from Officemax offering to give you 20% off of whatever you could stuff into the bag on your next shopping trip there.  I had put it aside thinking that maybe this time, (even then, knowing I probably wouldn’t), actually take advantage of the offer.

The wind had flipped the bag over, the bag then landing on the half-full glass, knocking it over onto the table surface sending the contents flowing onto the cement floor of the porch.  The glass lay on its side, empty.

For a brief moment I thought it was okay.  It did not look broken.  I picked it up to examine it.  It looked okay at first.  I thought, no harm, no foul, don’t do that again.  But then my heart sank.  I saw the crack.  Then two cracks.  I knew it was a goner.  The day had come for the set of glasses to begin their eventual trek to the land of broken glasses.

These glasses were a set of six (now five) that my great aunt had bought in the 1980’s at Fedco.  Now that may not mean much to most folks, but to me, they were always a heartwarming memory of both my aunt and of Fedco.  We often went shopping together at Fedco. She had been a member since it had opened.  I joined soon after moving to California almost forty years ago.  I remember auntie buying those glasses to replace, what else, another set of glasses that had one by one met there demise.  It seems to be the fate of daily-use glasses to one by one meet their doom.  Smashing on the bottom of the sink, slipping from your hand and dropping to the floor or just giving up the ghost one day for no apparent reason and shattering.  Five glasses remind you of the missing one.  Four become a set again.  Then three, how odd they seem, two, who would have a set of two?  And finally one lonely glass that sits forlorn on the shelf missing its mates.

I know it is rather strange make such a fuss over a broken glass.  Much like spilled milk, there is little use in crying.  But even knowing the day would finally come, it is difficult not to regret not being more careful.  If I had only taken the glass with me, out of harm’s way.  There would still be a full set on the shelf with their heartwarming connection to the past.

My aunt died in 1997.  She had lived to see the demise of Fedco and the death of Princess Di, two of her favorite things in the world.  I am not sure she would have been that concerned about the breaking of this glass.  But somehow it means a little more to me.  So few things in life last for as long as we would like.  A broken glass is a broken glass.  Nothing more.  Or so they would have you believe, those who do not attach much sentiment to things like glasses used every day.

Shining Through

I looked up from the hammock and saw the sun shining through my sycamore tree.  It was one of those epiphany moments in my life.  I was getting back to what was my truth, my personal vision of how my life should be.  No, it was not that I saw myself lying in the hammock lazily reading a book with my dog companions Tater Tot at my side and Ching Ching between my legs asleep.  Although that is indeed close to a halcyon existence, that is not what I realized in that moment.

I realized that I had dominion over my emotions.  I could choose to feel abandoned or less-than or I could move along and know, as a good friend told me yesterday, it is not all about me, not about me at all.  Some things, some people, some situations just are.

I had bristled at the thought that he thought I thought it was all about me.  (Love that sentence!) Of course I didn’t think that.  I am not the center of the universe.  I learned that a long time ago.  But then it hit me went he went on to say I had been sounding a bit like Winnie the Pooh’s Eeyore.

"Eeyore," said Owl, "Christopher Robin is giving a party."
"Very interesting," said Eeyore. "I suppose they will be sending me down the odd bits which got trodden on. Kind and Thoughtful. Not at all, don't mention it."

At first I thought I brayed like a donkey, but then I realized he meant I was sounding a bit down, a trace depressed, and just a dash too sorry for myself.  Oh, how the truth can sting!  But instantly I knew that was not what I intended to show at all!  I just wanted some validation for what I was feeling.  And for some reason, his comment validated it.  Not sure what part, but, really, when someone calls you an “Eeyore”, you pay attention.

This past month I have been looking inward.  It has been a time of introspection and reflection.  I knew something was off, but I wasn’t sure what it was.  I wrote morning pages, I took long walks.  I went to town and to sea, to the mountain and to the mall.  I looked high and low.  I read a book, the newspaper and Facebook.  And finally I just laid back, let go, and looked up.  That was all I needed to do all along.  And now things are indeed looking up.  Its okay to get into your inner blue donkey now and then, but it is not okay to stay there.

As Winnie the Pooh so aptly said, “You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”

Morning Pages

Three pages.  Every morning.   Handwritten.  Uncensored.  Whatever pops into your head.  This is an exercise that comes from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way.  I have to say when I first learned about this exercise, I was rather doubtful; doubtful I would have the perseverance and discipline to stick to it.  And I have to admit, I have not always succeeded; but ultimately, overall,  I have not failed.  The one thing I have found is, when I do it, the clarity of thought and times of creativity to seem to come more frequently.

Cameron recommends that you set your clock to get up about half an hour earlier and go right to doing the pages.  I did this for some time, before I even got out of bed.  But after a few months of not doing them, on the first of this month,  I started doing them again.  This time I did them after I got out of bed, fed the hungry dogs and cat, sometimes walked the dogs, sometimes did a few chores first, etc.  The most important thing, though, is to do them.  I am sure this is some of my proclivity to rationalize things, but I also believe we all have our own personal rhythms and this fits into mine.

So I do it.  I sit down at the dining room table with my spiral notebook and begin to write.  No TV, no radio and the dogs seem to have learned that they need to entertain themselves or take a nap while I tap into the stream of consciousness of my mind.  And the stream does flow.

I rant.  I rave.  I write what the little voice and the inner critic have to say.  I dialogue with them.  I have gotten reacquainted with them.  They are life-long friends.  Their mission is to keep me safe and keep me honest.  I have come to understand this and sometimes I have to tell the critic to be quiet.  Yes, I appreciate his input, but he is not always right.  But it is good to know what he thinks.  The inner voice is usually more in tune with what is going on with me.  He usually knows the answers.  I just need to ask the questions, be quiet, and listen.

If this sounds a bit schizophrenic, well, I don’t think so.  I do know these voices I hear are me, hashing it out.  I know, like you most likely,  I tend not to hear what these inner voices are saying when we get caught up in the activities of daily living.  The morning pages have helped me focus more.  It is remarkable the “coincidences” I experience when things happen during the day that echo what was expressed on the page that morning.  The awareness of what the universe is revealing is astonishing.

And as you might note, I am writing again.  Baby steps.  Getting back on track.  Little exercises like the morning pages work.  Whatever it takes.  Morning pages or some other discipline to get in touch with your inner self.  It may take time.  It may seem onerous at times.  But the perseverance pays off.  Even when you don’t feel like it, just forging ahead and doing it anyway helps.  And that is what those morning pages are all about.  Ultimately I have come to learn I can listen to my inner critic, thank him or her, and then move on.  Even an critic can be a friend.

Waiting for Lightning

I have been sitting around waiting for lightning.   I tried outdoors under the spreading sycamore tree and on the front porch in the little comfy arm chair.  I walked around the block and up to our local mountain top.  I stood on the balcony.  I slept with the window open.  And I waited. And waited.  And waited some more.

No lightning.  Nothing.  Not even a storm, no rain, no blustering winds.  I am in Southern California.  Thunderstorms are scarce here.  Even the metaphorical kind.

I was talking with a friend of mine about creativity and inspiration. We decided that creativity is more often there than not, but inspiration comes and goes.  It takes creativity to find inspiration.  Yet, inspiration is a lot like lightning: it never strikes where you want it to, and when it does strike, if you don’t act right away, it may do some damage, but it is gone before you can capture it.

At least that is what I have been telling myself.  For a while now, excuses and distractions have been my constant companion.  “Not my fault.”  “I don’t have time.”  “There is so much to be done and no one else can do it but me.”  And the most dreaded, “I don’t feel like it.”

That last thought, “not feeling like it”, is the most deadly to inspiration and creativity.  So you turn to waiting for lightning to strike.  And it never does.

The I realized, the “lightning” I have been waiting for has been gently tapping on my windowpane.  It has been whispering in my ear.  I has done everything but struck me.  But isn’t that what lightning is supposed to do?  Doesn’t it, like inspiration, come when you least expect it?

I guess not.

Inspiration is not like lightning.  It is something that can be invited in and welcomed like an old friend.  You can open your mind and your heart to its inspiring you just as your body allows the air to fill your lungs and give you the breath you live on.  Inspiration.  Draw it in to nourish your spirit, your soul and your life.

Oh gee, looky here.  Lightning struck and a musing was born.  How qwerki is that?

Day 22.  St Patrick's Day!  Today is St. Patrick’s Day. Have a green beer if you absolutely must, but not till after you find out why Patrick was sainted.What can his life teach you about how to be Christian?


I have been doing some reading the past 48 hours on the legends surrounding Saint Patrick.  Much of what I found is contained in this report on this website.  Several other sites reports much the same stories.  Click here to read:

http://www.saintpatricksdayparade.com/saint_patrick/patrick.jpg

 A History of Saint Patrick.

Now much of the truth seems to be clouded by mystery and legend.  Some don't even believe there was a particular man called Patrick, but rather that who we call Saint Patrick today is really a composite of several different men who walked the emerald isle back in the 5th Century.   Whether that be true or not, Saint Patrick in credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland and converting the pagan Celts to the Catholic Church.   He was sainted because he became a martyr for Christ and the Christian way.  He walked the walk and talked the talk.  Even if he was a symbol rather than a real man, his life brought hope and inspiration to seekers every where.

So, now, I am trying to see what about Saint Patrick's life would teach me how to be a better Christian.  Hmm.  Maybe, and I go out on a limb here, maybe it is that one must live according to his beliefs and values.  To be truly Christian, one should sort out the truth of what it means to be a Christian from all the misconceptions and warping of what Jesus Christ actually preached.

Jesus was not a Christian.  He was a man who walked the earth who became recognized his own divinity.  He was truly the son of God.  Perhaps Patrick recognized this in himself, too.  The distinction in Christianity and being a Christian comes for me in knowing the difference between worshiping Jesus and learning to walk the way of Jesus.  

A Christian does not pass judgement.  He does as Jesus did, ministering the sick and the lame, the unclean and the disenfranchised.  The true Christian does not hold himself out as holier than anyone else and recognizes the divinity in all of God’s creatures and creations.  

Patrick surely believed he was on the right path.  But was he right to “drive the snakes out of Ireland” as the metaphoric legend tells us?  Who were these snakes anyway?  As there were not and have never been real snakes in Ireland, this story surely refers to the Druids or the pagans or others who did not readily embrace the Christian faith.  

Much like the legends of Saint Nicholas turned pagan rituals and holidays into Christian ones, did Saint Patrick do the same thing for Ireland?  One must sort that out with further study, prayer and earnest meditation.

In the meantime, from shamrocks to leprechauns, green beer to pots of gold, rainbows and even Saint Brigid, it a fabulous time to be Irish or act as if you are for a day.  The Irish (my paternal ancestors) are a hearty and storied people.  They deserve to be celebrated on this verdant holiday.  So eat some corned beef and cabbage, soda bread, bangers, boxties and colcannon.  It is a great day to be Irish.  Perhaps that is the best lesson of all we can learn from Saint Patrick.  Be true to yourself and the road will indeed rise up to meet you.

40 Days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Twenty

Day Twenty: Go to bed an hour early tonight. Give up being over-tired and possibly cranky. Your family and co-workers will thank you.

9pm Thursday evening,

Me?  Cranky?  LOL.  Ridiculous!  Never happens.  Nope, not me.  Never happens.  I am always well rested, calm and patient. 

Well, maybe on occasion....

Well, maybe more than once in a while.

Well, okay, I admit it.  I get cranky now and then.  Hush, you who know me.  Yes, I do get cranky.  I guess sometimes it is due to lack of sleep.  So tonight I will go to bed an hour early.  I will post this in the morning and let you know the results.  In the meantime, I have to share that my crankiness usually means I haven't eaten.  I'm hungry.  My blood sugar has dropped.  I am out of sorts.

So let's do this.  Off to bed now.

Friday morning.  11:30ish.

Okay, I went to bed early last night.  I slept well I think.  I did have vivid dreams.  I don't usually remember them.  I do this morning.  I woke up at 5:30, then 6:30, then finally got out of bed at 7:30.  Of course it helped me get out of bed when the cars started racing down my street because they closed the left turn lane from Jurupa Avenue onto Riverside Avenue (again!) to repair (again!) a leak beneath the pavement.  And cars racing down my quiet residential street are hard to ignore.

Yawns may be an early warning sign of the crankies.

So cranky?  I suppose.  I went to bed at 9:30.  Got up at 7:30.  Ten hours.  Who needs that much sleep?  Got up, fed the dogs and cat, had some oatmeal and coffee, went for our morning walk and then, instead of diving into work, I read the paper and had another cup of coffee.  Then I did a special announcement for my church newsletter.  And now I am reporting to you.

Cranky?  Not really.  I think I just got TOO MUCH SLEEP!  LOL.  I think we can sleep too much.  I know if I take a long nap in the afternoon, I get a "sleep hangover".

Bottom line:  just take care of yourself, get plenty of rest, and be mindful of your interactions with others and yourself.  Staying conscious of your own needs is the best remedy to being cranky.

Oh, ya, I suppose you can remind me of all this next time I get cranky.  But please forgive me if I bark or grumble.  I really don't mean it.  Really.

40 Days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Nineteen

For Day Nineteen: "Say thank you to the person who taught you how to say 'I'm sorry.'"

I honestly don't remember who taught me to say "I'm sorry."  Was it my mother?  My grandmother?  Father?  A teacher?  The neighbor?  I do remember an incident involving a neighbor lady.   Her son was one of my best friends when we were about five or six.  I remember we were wrestling on the lawn and I somehow hurt him in the free-for-all.  It was not aggressive, just fun as I remember, like boys do at that age.  Anyway, she was very upset and made me say I was sorry and then sent me home to think about it.  We weren't to play with each other for a day or two (who remembers really?).  That is the first incident that jumps out at me.

But really, I think it was just a thing I learned to do.  I was a fairly sensitive kid.  I really didn't want to hurt anyone or any living creature.  Well, I have to say I did stomp on ants and mess up their anthill now and then.  And sometimes I would poke my brother just to see if he would get upset.  Limits were tested, but I was never really all that rebellious.  I do now and then drift back to my teen-age years and wish I could apologize to my parents for being so sarcastic and judgemental.   I do think they lived long enough to know I was not really that kid who was raging with hormones and growing pains.

But just in case, I am sorry.

And I say thank you.

I have learned that it is best to just apologize.  Excuses and explanations can come if asked for, but the truth is, if you are not sorry, they will know.  And your excuses and explanations will confirm that.  I have also learned that once you say you are sorry, truly sorry, you must surrender to the consequences.  There may be none, but that is beyond your control.  You are at the mercy of the person you offended.  And I it is okay, in fact appropriate to ask if they can forgive you.  Again, you may not be forgiven.  But that is not in your control.  Consequences again.

Finally, it is very important that you appreciate and recognize the pain you caused or that they felt.  Empathy is a skill that must be developed.  You know how you feel.  But it is important to recognize how others feel because of what you did or did not do.  As Elton John sang, "Sorry seems to be the hardest word."

But say it when you truly are.

Elton John Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

40 Days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Eighteen

For Day 8: Stop stressing about money. It won’t help. Plan, don’t panic.

http://www.fabulouslybroke.com/
2011/06/why-do-you-budget/

It works.  It really does.  About three years ago I decided to go to a financial advisor.  Little did I know when I went in to see Navneet, my life would change so dramatically.  For the first time in my life I really took charge of my financial life.  And by that same June, with the help of an "incentive" from my workplace, I retired and began the next chapter of my life.

Now I am not saying I still don't find myself stressing about money now and then.  I play the "What If" game as well as anyone.  A lot can happen.  I think you all know what I am talking about.  And I never take my good fortune and heavenly blessings for granted.  I just trust and move forward.  Tomorrow comes whether I am ready for it or not.  Planning helps.  Often, God or Fate or whomever, has other plans.  But planning does indeed help.

I believe in the Law of Circulation.  As you give, so shall you receive.  It says that somewhere in the Bible.  It is at the base of most motivation rhetoric.  Money, they say, makes the world go 'round.  I believe it is the energy behind money that propels the world forward.  Whether that energy is the light from deep inside or the dark forces of greed like some say drive gas prices, it is energy.  It is that energy that we need to channel.  And finally, it is coming to that place of faith that the ultimate Good will indeed triumph.  It will, I believe (and oft have to remind myself) work out.

There is more to life than money.  I remember saying that to my parents when I was about 16.  We didn't have much; and they were always worried about it.  But it always worked out.  We never went hungry.  We always had a roof over our heads.  We had love.  We had hope.  While on the surface it may not have appeared so, we really did have it all....all we ever really needed.

Plan.  Come up with a "green line" like in the TV commercial.  Get advice from someone you trust.  Tomorrow will come.  You might as well be ready for it.

Today I will be reminded every time I worry about money that it is the Source's good pleasure to give us what we truly desire, all we truly need.  And then I will return to planning.  As long as we can plan, there is hope.

40 days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Seventeen

Day Seventeen: Show other people that you value their time. Today, plan to arrive 15 minutes early for everything. Give up being late.

Now here's a lesson in intention.  I set this particular blog up last night.  Read it and them tucked it away to write today.  I always try to be on time.  In fact, there was a time when I was always insufferably early.  I say insufferably because I was always the one who sat around waiting.  To this day, I tend to arrive early or to be dressed and ready and at the curb if you are picking me up. 

Most of the time I am either early or right on time.  When I am late (which doeshappen) I get very anxious and feel the pressure acutely.  I don't like to keep people waiting for me.  That comes I am sure from my grandmother who was always on time.  I can remember going places with her and having to sit in the car for a bit because we arrived too early.  But we never missed the coming attractions at the movies, let me tell you.  And that became a life-long habit.

So, this morning I was meeting some friends to walk up Mt Rubidoux.  The plan was to meet at the gate at 8am.  Guess what!  Without even thinking about today's charge, I was 15 minutes early!  And I always like that because I can sit and people watch or think about things like the meaning of life or what I want to do for day after the walk or just try to achieve a bit of Zen state.

I like being early.  When I am late, I get stressed.  And I know there are those of you who know me who have known me to be late occasionally.  I am wondering right now if perhaps there are some folk out there who actually see me as being tardy a lot!  Now that would be a lesson in perception.  How we see ourselves is often the product of the values we hold dear and our own ego state.

So for the rest of the day, I will be early.  Your time is valuable.  I know that.  And I hate being stressed by running late.  I don't know which is worse.  And isn't it great that I don't have any appointments today?  LOL 

40 Days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Fifteen

Day Fifteen: Write down ten things you are thankful for. And then write down ten things more.


Have you ever actually sat down a tried to write the ten things you are thankful for?  I read that to mean, "ten things you are MOST thankful for.  That makes it seem easy.  Easy, because, really, we all have so much to be thankful for.  Hard, because you want to make the things you are thankful for important.  But as I do this, I realize the things that seem unimportant are those that are truly most important.  The little things add up.  The big things pale in comparison...yet they too, are still important.

My list:
1. Me.  I am thankful for this self that God has given me.  Although there are times I think I am not all that much, I realize that I am happy being me.  Who else would I be? 
2. My health.  Goes without saying.  With all my aches and pains, mood swings and ruminations, I am truly blessed.  I can walk, talk and even sing.  I can think, sometimes in clear, coherent thoughts.  I am blessed.
3. My little furry friends.  They are never with me long enough, but I always have little ones, cats, dogs, birds, who make my life better.  Currently it is Ching Ching, Tater Totte and Nina.  And the memories of all the other critters who have come into my life and gone on over the "rainbow bridge", well, they still bring a smile to my soul.
4. My memories.  Growing up in Detroit.  A large extended family.  A tightly knit nuclear family (not without its problems ;-)  School.  College. Moving to California.  The people I have met.  The ones still here and the ones who have gone on.  Trips abroad and around the states.  Loves cherished, loves lost, loves found again.
5. My persistent optimism.  No matter what, no matter how down I get, I somehow always know it will get better.  And it does.  Even in my darkest hours, I have always maintained a level of optimism.  "This too shall pass"...and it does.
6. The true security.  I know I will be okay.  God is there for me.  Friends are there for me.  I am fortunate to be somewhat financially secure and own a nice home, car, etc.  But I do know that could all change at the drop of a hat.  My true security comes from knowing no storm can wipe away the true security of being myself in my life and my world.  And always remember, knock on wood.
7. My work.  I am fortunate to be able to volunteer to do things I want to do.  Sometimes that feels like a full time job.  I also enjoy doing the "free lance" work I do on occasion, as I feel the urge.
8. Writing.  I have a talent. I use it.  I use it the way I want to.  I know I could turn it into work, but that is not why I do it.  I just love to write.  And that is that and I am grateful for the means and the creativity to do it.
9. You.  You.  And you.
10.  The weather and its seasons.  Just because change is good and each season has its own charm.

http://forcoloredgurls.com/wp-content/
uploads/2010/04/Gratitude.jpg

And ten more...

This is hard.  I feel like I named them all above, yet I know there is so much more to be thankful for.

1.  The TV remote...I can control the volume, the channel and the time I want to watch TV.  Most importantly, I can turn it off whenever I want.
2.  NPR.  I feel so informed when I listen to just about anything on this radio station.
3.  Taste.  What would life be like if you couldn't taste the sweet and the sour, the bitter and salty?
4.  The other senses.  To see, to hear, to feel, to smell.  Along with taste, what miracles they are that make life worth living.
5.  TIme.  There is always tomorrow...and when the time comes that there is no tomorrow, I know I will have arrived in that place of peace and comfort called eternity.
6.  Dirt.  Yep, without dirt, we couldn't grow things.  Without dirt, we couldn't feel good about washing our clothes or cleaning our living spaces. 
7.  MY SENSE OF HUMOR.  Yep, it can be dry, it can be sarcastic.  It can be silly and nonsensical and depend on a very contrived pun.  But it is always fun to laugh.  Funny I didn't think of this until now, but I think my sense of humor, being able to see the absurdity or hilarity in most situations has been my saving grace.
8. Grace.  No matter what, I know I am forgiven.  Whether by God or Spirit or just the passage of time and forgetfulness, all is forgiven and I can always go home.
9.  Imagination.  Imagine that.  I am so glad I can.
10.  Beginnings, endings and the space in between.  The river flows, the ocean swells, the water rises and falls again as rain to refresh the river as once again it flows....

And, yes, I am thankful you read this.

40 days of Lent: A Spirtual Journey -- Day Fourteen

Day Fourteen: Give up the Internet. Just for the day. Or even the afternoon. Look past the screen. Look up, look around, look out the window, look for signs of spring.

It is always amazing to me how the Universe or Great Power or God or whatever one calls that which supports and nourishes our intentions, thoughts and desires moves to do just that when we make up our mind.

http://jennyjuststuff.blogspot.com/
2011/12/mindfulness.html

This particular Lenten exercise just happened to coincide with a day I was going to an area where connectivity is sketchy.  That made this exercise much more "easy" to do.  And rather than getting frustrated with not being able to check my email, Facebook and the like, I was able to focus on the time with my friends in Newport Beach.

It was a good time.  It was a restful time,  And when I returned to "connectivity" I found I did not miss all that much.  What I did (re-)discover was that it so easy to get addicted to the instant gratification of electronic communications.  Even though it can be somewhat artificial and maybe even superficial, it is a feeling of being in touch without really being in touch.

I relaxed after about an hour of not hearing the familiar ringtone that signals an email has arrived.  Instant messages just waited and did not waste away in cyberspace.   Over a year ago I did an exercise in going without any mass media communication.  No TV, radio, newspaper, etc.  This was similar.  The main thing I was reminded of is that we can control most of the things that take up our time and attention.  We can be deliberate. We can choose.

I love my Facebook.  Emails can be informative and a great way to keep in touch when a phone call is too much.  And texting is the new way to go really.  Yet we need to be mindful that their is a human behind most of these communications and that we do need to "reach out and touch" like they said in the old AT&T commercials years ago.

Nothing will ever replace the face-to-face meeting, the warm handshake or hug, the kiss on the cheek.  A smile is worth a million emails...maybe trillion.  And again, the main lesson I believe here during these Lenten practices is to be mindful an aware.  Otherwise we are just pulled along and miss much of what life is all about.

40 Days of Lent: A Spiritual Journey Day Thirteen

For Day 12, we were to meditate and practice on this: "Give in. Lent is not just a time to give up. Real repentance may mean giving in, to someone else, admitting they were right. Or that you were also right, but in this case, they just needed it more."

I have to admit I hate being wrong.  I also hate to face the fact that I am often wrong.  And even when I'm right, sometimes even then, I'm wrong.  So this one, my friends, is for me.  And it something I have been right about and wrong about all my life.

One question that I ask myself these days is,  "Would you rather be right or would your rather be happy."  I tell myself that being right is not always that important.  Sometimes the relationship is more important.  Sometimes the situation will not improve by proving you are right.  The truth will out.  All will become apparent. In the meantime, being wrong may be the right thing to do at times.

So I repent.  I give in.  I surrender to the higher good of all concerned.  At the risk of sounding like I am nominating myself for sainthood, I can hold my tongue when the situation calls for it.  I truly believe every has their own truth.  Who am I to think I have they only truth?  Okay, I am getting off this high horse.  Truth is, I am not fond of confrontation.  And I figure the truth will, indeed, come out in the end.  

And I could be wrong.  But I might be right.

http://jenniferbuyshouses.com/
wp-content/uploads/2012/01/WrongRight.jpg

40 Days of Lent: A Spiritual Journey Day Twelve

Day 12: Say the words of Isaiah 43:1-7 as a prayer. Try putting your name in where it says “Jacob” and “Israel.” Do that once, then again, then

three times and more if you need to."

http://www.christianglobe.com/
PPS/images/medium/00013567_h.jpg

Today's suggested activity somewhat mystified me.  I read the verses (see below) and am not sure I understand them.  Obviously I am not a Bible scholar.  As near as I can interpret would be prayed for here is the reunion with God as promised is his covenant with Jacob and with Israel.  But what does this mean for me?

I had to ponder a bit further.  I have come to believe that no matter what happens in our lives, the true essence of who we are will never be damaged or die.  That is the eternal in us.  The deeper question here then becomes the belief in an afterlife.  And of course all that is based on faith.  Without faith, I wonder, what would we have?  And there is the true reason to pray. 

No, I am no Bible scholar.  I am sure someone will help me understand the meaning behind this passage.  In the meantime, the thought that keeps going through me mind is that all we think and speak can be a prayer.  What we give our attention to becomes our reality.  That is why I interpret this to be an admonishment of sorts to remain mindful.  We need to be mindful of what we think, say and do.  And are practice every day brings us closer to our true and eternal selves.  

*******

Isaiah 43:1-7 New International Version

Israel’s Only Savior

1 But now, this is what the LORD says— 

   he who created you, Jacob, 

   he who formed you, Israel: 

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; 

   I have summoned you by name; you are mine. 

2 When you pass through the waters, 

   I will be with you; 

and when you pass through the rivers, 

   they will not sweep over you. 

When you walk through the fire, 

   you will not be burned; 

   the flames will not set you ablaze. 

3 For I am the LORD your God, 

   the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; 

I give Egypt for your ransom, 

   Cush[a] and Seba in your stead. 

4 Since you are precious and honored in my sight, 

   and because I love you, 

I will give people in exchange for you, 

   nations in exchange for your life. 

5 Do not be afraid, for I am with you; 

   I will bring your children from the east 

   and gather you from the west. 

6 I will say to the north, ‘Give them up!’ 

   and to the south, ‘Do not hold them back.’ 

Bring my sons from afar 

   and my daughters from the ends of the earth— 

7 everyone who is called by my name, 

   whom I created for my glory, 

   whom I formed and made.”