Pageturning

Every day it is the same thing.  Pick up the book, turn the page and move on.  Oh, sure, sometimes you turn back to see if you really read something correctly.  But then you find that you are not exactly in the same place.  Your reality has shifted.  You don't feel exactly the same way you did when your first read the words on the page or wrote them in your journal.

So you turn the page.

Time to move on.  It is always time to move on.  You have to leave the past to the past.  There is no future in staying on the same page.  In order to find your truth you must keep on turning pages.  And sometimes, when you leave a particulaly pleasant, comfortable and comforting passage behind, you can't help but mark that page for future reference.  But when you do turn the pages back, it is never the same.

So again, you turn the page.

I can be difficult.  Moving on is not always easy.  The now is where you want to stay.  But every now becomes a then, and every future, the present.  It just keeps going.  You must pick up your book, turn the page and move on.  The lovely thing is, though, no matter what book you are into, once read, it is a part of you. You cannot undo the experience.  You can only let it be.  If you remain on the same page too long, well, you will never know what happens next.

So you turn the page.

And move on.

PK is M.I.A.

There is nothing worse than not knowing.  My kitten (just over a year old) is missing.  I last saw her Friday evening.  My neighbor reports she thought she saw her Saturday morning across the street.  Two squirrels (something new in our California neighborhood) were taunting her from the tree.  Until then, I figured she had simply wandered off and was visiting neighbors as she often has done.  Of course, she has never been gone more than one night.  Now its three going on four.

Not knowing is very difficult.

I am generally optimistic.  Having found no kitten parts, I can assume she is still alive somewhere.  She is very pretty and very friendly in her way.  Someone could have just picked her up.  I did.  When she was just about eight weeks old, I found her at the Riverside Plaza in the hedges on the west side of Forever 21 (formerly Harris'/Gottshalk's Department Store).  She was crying. It was 7am.  The dogs were very concerned.  We picked her up.  We brought her home.  We adopted her into our lives and times.

We named her Plaza Kitty--PK for short.

Now she is missing.  How does one sit with that?  I know she is just a cat.  No, she is our cat.  She has a personality and a history (albeit short) with us here.  How does one sit with not knowing?  I think about those news reports where people have gone missing and I cannot even begin to imagine that torture that comes with not knowing.

Not knowing is just plain hard.  Even the worst answers with verified certainty are better than what the mind can conjure up.

And yet, I comfort myself with the belief that she is okay.  She may come home.  She may not.  Not knowing, it is easier to think of the better possibities than to dwell on the worse.  Is my glass always half full rather than half empty?  I guess this tells me that it is.

Still, not knowing is far more worse than anything I can imagine.

PK come home.

Like the Sun Going Down on Me....

Not sure why, but this song that this above line is from popped into my head when I sat down to blog just now.  So I did a video search on Youtube and found the one below.  I really like the music, the words are interesting and of course, its Elton John.  I was on my front porch, watching the sun go down. Seemed fitting.  

But then I read this line and heard it as I played the video: "Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see".  Yes, I do search myself, often, but you probably figured that out if you read any of these blogs.  But what resonated with me was the part that says "its always someone else I see."  Not sure why, but I think it might be because looking inward I usually see what I think others see.  Who is that, that "someone else"?  

I believe we are all different in different situations and with different people. We adjust ourselves according to the situation.  Human beings learned long ago to be flexible in order to survive.   

If I look long enough, the facades melt away.  I begin to see the someone at my core who is the real me.  It is the one who is consistently there; the one who never changes.  It is the essence, the soul, the spark of life.  It is God who there, at the center of all that I am.  And whatever you believe or don't believe about God, it seems there just has to be someone or something that is behing all that we are or hope to be.

So when the sun goes down and the night begins, I turn inward and know.  I know the Truth and I can rest.  I then remember just who this someone else I see, is.  And in the still of the twilight, it is very much like the sun going down on me.

Went Skiing in 1969--An Emlematic Poem of Sorts

Went Skiing in 1969--A Poem of Sorts

Just for fun, I wanted to share a little poem I found in some very old papers I found in my garage while cleaning it out.  This is a silly little poem that shows I had my same sense of whimsy in high school as I do now.  Perhaps that is the sole reason I survived high school...and many of the years since.

In case you are wondering, my little stick men haven't really evolved much.

The Benefits of a High Fiber Diet or How I Learned That Prunes Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

Cardboard? No
Delicious? Yes

Time for a bit of health awareness.  Everyone talks about fiber these days and the importance of staying regular.  This seems to be a part of the human condition.  There are very few television shows aimed at persons over the age of 30 which do not feature at least one commercial for Fiber One.  "It makes me sad," says one young husband when his wife tells him he should get more fiber in his diet.  The friendly store clerk admonishes the dubious shopper, "Cardboard, no, delicious, yes."  

I have found Jamie Leigh Curtis extremely inspirational in her preaching on the benefits and delights of eating Activia yogurt.  It seems it will not only bring joy to your taste buds, but regulate your system in a gentle and safe manner.  I have to admit I do enjoy those little cartons of creamy goodness, but one is max because all you-know-what will break loose, oh, well, maybe that is a bad metaphor, but you get what I mean.

The recommendation for five servings of fresh fruits and vegetables daily (or something like that) would seem to cure all ailments.  If we were to watch our diets as religiously as we watch our money, we would probably not need anything to restore order to our digestive systems.  The sad thing is cheese and potato chips like ice cream and Snickers bars simply taste too good to not have some once in a while.  "All things in moderation," said wise old Ben Franklin.  That I am afraid is not always the American way these days.

So I do agree that a high fiber diet is important to overall health.  I loveKellogg's Crunchy Raisin Bran for breakfast.  Once I tried eating prunes on a regular basis.  Trouble was, they taste so very good, I ate too many and, well, the results were disaster in the making.  So now a good prune danish is on my list of treats...best of both worlds I say!

There, this wasn't so bad, was it?  And maybe raising our level of awareness about the serious nature of a sometimes humorous subject could save your life. A good diet does consist of a healthy dose of fiber, vitamins and minerals, and other fresh offerings available these days year round.  But the best medicine of all, as Reader's Digest used to feature, is laughter.  Hope this brought a bit to you.

Watch Your Tongue

I admit it.  When I was a kid I could be sassy, a real snot.  I knew sarcasm and used it freely.  Maybe it was teen-age angst.  Maybe I was just an impatient, impertinent, impolite brat at times.  My guess is that it was a misdirected attempt to exert power.  How stupid.  In retrospect, I wish I had done what my mother often admonished me to do and "watched my tongue."

Watch Your Tongue...Ha!

Now smart-Alec that I was, I would actually try to watch my tongue.  I would get cross-eyed and ultimately, I could never see more than the tip of my tongue.  That is, of course, unless I looked into a mirror after being sent to my room.  By then it seemed pointless to watch my tongue, so I would go to bed.

Okay, I know the coded meaning of this warning.  Be careful what you say.  Mind your manners.  Be nice.  Bottom line: don't be a jerk.  Well I guess it finally sunk it.  I do watch my tongue now, in the metaphorical sense.  My tongue is for savoring delightful tastes and help my teeth chew.   It is also for helping me communication, in a respectful, mannerly fashion.  

Next time you feel the urge to be petty, to make a caustic remark, to lash out, remember, tongues are not for lashing, and that's not what they do.  Tongues are our friends.  Use yours wisely.  Remember an acid tongue burns.  It burns not only the intended target, but any kind of self-respect you may have earned.  Be kind.  Speak softly.  And of course, watch your tongue.

Such Language

When I saw this cartoon this morning, it took me a minute to figure out what the problem was.  Then I realized that the five "fellas" sitting on the stools at the counter are some of the traditional symbols used to indicate there is some cursing going on.  These sybols are generally in the daily and/or Sunday funnies when someone has just been slammed by a flying piano, chagrined by a telling insult, or is just plain angry.   So the off-color remarks come flying out and are, symbolized by (in this context) meaningess characters.

Now cursing and swearing were forbidden in my house growing up, at least they were forbidden to me and my younger brother.  My father could curse like the blue collar worker he was.  His frustration level was low.  Sadly, the words we that burned our ears then,  are rather commonplace today.  Never more than an "s" here or a "d" there and sometimes an "h-e-double toothpicks".  I never heard the really "bad words" that until I started junior high. Even then, I was still too afraid (or too prim) to use them myself.  To this day, such language generally does not cross my lips.

Now I have to admit, though, that occasionally some of those words do slip out.  For instance, last Friday I was at Sizzler with my friend Marty for our usual Friday lunch together.  We discuss everything from religion to politics, social mores to economics, etc.  We'd had our usual spirited chatm then, as is our custom, we went to top off our lunch with a small ice cream cone from the dessert bar.  Marty got his and went on, and then I pulled the lever for the swirl combo and to my great dismay, the lever came off and the soft-serve came pouring out.  I jumped back, stomped my foot and, well, I have to say, the "s" word came right out with no trouble.

The staff at Sizzler came rushing in and fixed the dispenser and cleaned up the mess.  A few minutes later, our server came to the table with a big smile on her face, stifling a laugh.  "Another customer war story?" I asked her.  She nodded her head.  It was funny I have to admit, but I still was embarassed by my lack of decorum.  It just shows how easy it is to slip into the foul mouth spewing without ever intending to.

When I was in college I took a lot of psychology classes.  It was my major.  One thing I remember discussing in Psych 101 was the psychology of language.  "Words," said the instructor, "have no meaning other than what we give them."  To prove this, she recited a couple of the more forbidden words.  There was a bit a tittering amongst us freshmen, but the point was well taken.

Still, I don't care for foul language.  These days however it is very hard to avoid.  Movies, TV, even the newspaper, magazines and books are full of it.  And modern music couldn't exist it seems without the nasty rants.  But I have to remind myself of what the instructor said so many years ago.  Words are just sounds with meaning we give them.  Another lesson learned about language was in an English class.  "Using foul language to express oneself just shows a poor command of the language."  There are much more polite ways to express displeasure, frustration and/or anger.  Such language.  

Ultimately, it is not what you say, but how you say it.  Not your words, but your intent.  To paraphrase the Golden Rule, "Speak unto other as you would have them speak unto you."  

And that, I must say, is my last word on this subject....for now.  Such language indeed.