Time is Money

Time is money it is often said.  But I wonder: what does that really mean?  If you aren't producing you are wasting not only time, but money.  But that just confuses me.  You cannot waste time.  Time does not exist.  But then what is the best use of your time?  And how do you get money if you don't use time to get it?  Oh, the conundrum!  Or is it a paradox?  I love them both.  And this is definitely both.  A conundrum because without time, you can't make money.  Without money, you may not have control of your time.  And if time doesn't exist, well, who cares?  And remember, money is just medium invented to barter and exchange...much like time was invented to keep track of your progess and your appointments.

Now I am thinking it might me wise you use your money to have some fun.  Be creative.  This picture intrigued me.  Someone created this amazing sculpture by stacking hundreds of dimes.  Do you know how much time this  probably took?  And, yes, it shows that it take time to make money into something more than just, well, money.  

So there it is.  Time is money.  Money is time.  It is all relative.  One is as real as the other and neither is real when it comes right down to it, a conundrum in a paradox wrapped in a riddle.  That I beleive called living in the realm of symbols and meaning.

Mothers Are So Yesterday

Yesterday was Mother's Day.  Mom's, Grandmom's, Aunts, Women who care, all were feted yesterday.  It was all day, a veritable love fest celebrating motherhood.  I even claimed the title "Mr. Mom" to my little ones, Ching Ching, Tater Totte, Nina and PK.  They indeed let me sleep in yesterday morning.  So it was good and all things maternal seems right and fine.

Then there's Mother Earth, Mother Nature, Mother's Oats, Mama Mia, Who's Your Mama?  Lo the maternal is always with us.  To nuture is to facilitate birth and growth, thus the true meaning of motherhood.  Mother, Mom, Ma, Mommy, Mooma, Mammy, Madre, on and on and on.  

So another Mother's Day is past.  But let us not forget, we carry our mothers and grandmothers and all those who "mothered" us with us EVERY day.  There is not a day I do not think about and even meditate on what my mother and grandmother did to help make me who I am today.  I miss them always.

Yes, mothers are so yesterday....yesterday not only because yesterday was Mother's Day, but yesterday because it is what they did yesterday that made us who we are today.  And no matter the good, the bad or the indifferent, it is a gift we can choose to appreciate or reject...its our choice...and our judicious choice.  But really, if our mothers had not given us birth, where would we be?

Open Ended

There is this project proposal I am working on with some creative folks in the LA area.  If it comes to fruition, it could prove quite lucrative and bring us a measure of fame to boot.  Why, I could even become a household name and appear on Oprah!

In the course of working on this idea I am learning a lot about the creative process and the behind the scenes world of putting something together.  I find I can trust the process and just go with the flow.  But the most important thing I have found is that I am not attached to the outcome!

Now I am not going to details here about what this particular project is.  It is probably because of some internal superstition that I fear speaking too much about it and making the dream vanish.  I remember as a kid whenever some new possibility for a better life would come along, like buying into a nicer house or getting a better family car, I would tell everyone and then, come the morning of realization that it was just talk, I would have to sheepishly (almost with shame) tell everyone my enthusiasm ran away with me again.  Not this time.  

But that doesn't mean I will not be enthusiastic!  A dream is good.  It gives you direction.  But now I know it is better to leave it "open-ended". 

The process is where it is at.  Its not the destination.  Its the journey.  Its living life as it happens and moving toward the goal, but not living in the future.  And most importantly, its knowing that the goal may change.  The dream may morph along the way.  For me right now, it is enough to move my feet and taste what's sweet: now!

Open ended.  No forgone conclusions.  Open to possibilities and what life might bring you.  And knowing that now is all we have.   

And in the end, the end will take take care of itself.

An Open Heart

Having an open heart is actually quite a responsibility.  By keeping your heart open, 24/7, as the sign implies, you run the risk of it getting broken.  An open heart leaves you vulnerable to being hurt or taken advantage of.  Yet I seem to always come to the conclusion that it is always worth the risk.  After all, a heart of stone is worse than no heart at all.

"I would rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot speak, than a heart that cannot love."  --Robert Tizon.


That, my friend, is where I find myself.  My heart is open.  Sometimes I run the risk of taking on things that are more than I care to.  Sometimes I may love blindly, love silently and not speak love's name, but ultimately the councilation is that I indeed do love.


"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."  1 Corinthians 13:13


You can have faith in love, in its power, its magic, its healing powers.  You can have hope of love, that it will come, that love will indeed be yours.  But the greatest of these three things, faith, hope and love, is indeed love, for without love, what are we?  Love makes faith real and hope a reality. 


I am keeping this old ticker open for as long as it keeps me alive.  And if I am lucky, the love I experience will go on long after I am gone. 

"Near, far, where ever you are.  I believe that the heart does go on."  -- Titanic 1997

Open Mind

I am trying to remain open-minded.  I listen.  I ponder.  I consider.  All the evidence is not in.  It seems that ALL the evidence is NEVER in.  Just when you make up your mind about something, some new evidence is found that changes everything.  So I listen.  I ponder.  I consider.

Now I have to say I try not to be so open-minded that my brains fall out as some unknown (to me) wise person said.  I have opinions.  I believe there is more evidence for evolution than creationism BUT if evolution is the final word, who set  it all in motion?  If it was a Big Bang, what was there BEFORE the Big Bang?  And who or what caused the Big Bang?  As I often do, I have come to the conclusion that is it a bit of both.  There is room for God in our Science and Science in our God.  God gave us the ability to listen, to ponder and to consider for a reason.

I often wonder if our government is telling us the Truth...or the truth as they see it or as they think we can handle without going plunging off the cliff like the proverbial (and scientifically studied) lemmings.

But no one really knows the whole truth.  There is always room for doubt.  They say Osama bin Laden is dead.  I believe he is.  I believe our President.  Do we need to see pictures of the dead body?  I don't know.  I know I don't want to see it.  But there are still people who don't believe man walked on the moon, the Holocast happened or life after death is possible. 

Living with doubt is where faith is born.  

And so I listen.  I ponder.  I consider.  And I hope for forever remain open-minded.

Chinese symbol for being conscious

Almost Ten Years

The death of Osama Bin Laden yesterday brought it all back.

I was getting ready for work.  For some reason I cannot remember, I was going in a bit late.  It was a Tuesday morning, much like any other.  TheToday show was on.  Then it began.  Katie Couric, a dazed look of disbelief on her face, reported that a "small plane" had reportedly crashed into the first tower of the World Trade Center.  "How bizarre," I remembered thinking.  "What would a small plane be doing in downtown Manhattan?  Probably some rogue pilot.  I hope no one in the building was hurt."  I had to get to work, so I turned off the TV and left the house.

On my way to work I heard the rest on NPR.  A jetliner had crashed into the World Trade Center.  "A JETLINER?" I exclaimed out loud.  Then the report of the second jetliner crashing into the other tower.  I felt a wave of sheer terror.  I was at work by then.  I was 2nd in charge of the office.  My co-workers were scared, sobbing.  Then came word of the pentagon and Shanksville.  The boss told everyone to go home and "stay safe."  We were speechless.  

My fellow supervisor and I stayed for a while, just waiting, wondering.  The office was empty by then.  We could go home.  But we were afraid.  We were three-thousand miles away, but what if the attackers started attacking the west coast?  The "what-if's" practically paralyzed us.

Finally, we went home.  

I remember being glued to the television the rest of the day.  I could not absorb it.  How could this happen?  How could huge airliners be highjacked and crashed into a pair of the tallest buildings in the world?  How many were inside, in the street as the towers came down?  Questions, so many that to this day have not be answered, and may never be.  The biggest question of course being, why?  Why?

Now Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Do we rejoice?  Do we feel any safer?  Revenge is best served cold.  Justice must be exacted.  Evil must be fought and conquered.  It is in the Bible.  It is human nature.  It is what it is and what it, sadly, always will be.  The death of anyone, even the most evil madman in modern times, is not cause for elation.  Relief maybe, but not truly pure joy.  Any joy would surely be tainted.  It is a time for reflection, that pure and that simple.

I just heard someone on TV say, "Now we have a modicum of closure for all of those affected by 9/11".  I modicum.  That is all we can ever have, I expect.  It will never be "closed".  The wound is still tender, even almost ten years later.  And the fear is back and palpable.  

Osama Bin Laden is dead.  But what does that mean?  What does it really mean?

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