Mar 14 2010
Sunday Humor :: Tree Hugging Tree Farts
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::SPIRITUALITY::
Mar 10 2010
…I’ll meet you there.
OUT BEYOND IDEAS
OF WRONGDOING & RIGHTDOING,
THERE IS A FIELD.
I’LL MEET YOU THERE.
WHEN THE SOUL LIES DOWN
IN THAT GRASS,
THE WORLD IS TOO FULL
TO EVEN TALK ABOUT.
IDEAS,
LANGUAGE,
EVEN THE PHRASE
‘EACH OTHER’
DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE.
- Rumi [13th century] جلال الدین محمد بلخى
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Mar 09 2010
Guideposts :: What Prayer Can Do
A MYSTERIOUS FIND
I’m not sure how the March 2010 issue of Guideposts ended up on my coffee table, but here it is, staring at me in the face. If something is fortuitous enough to make it into my home, especially reading material, I usually peruse it from front to back cover,
once.
Rarely do magazines live beyond the first perusal, and this Guideposts is definitely going out with the recyclables.
That said, as a sixth grader, I remember going through great effort to preserve the mint condition of a particular issue of Guideposts,
the one in which Orel Hershiser graced the cover, back when he played for the LA Dodgers and helped his team clench the World Series.
God, faith, prayer, and love comprised a large part of Orel’s success. He gave the Christian readers of Guideposts a glimpse into the spirituality that, so he believed, was responsible for everything he had gotten out of life.
I didn’t preserve the issue because of the article, but because of the picture of him on the front cover – better than any baseball card. He stood in his MLB uniform, looking like king of the mound.
The March 2010 issue of Guideposts, on the other hand, has a picture of some talking head on the front cover I’ve never heard speak, not a talented baseball player, i.e. Orel Hershiser.
He was one of two pitchers [Nolan Ryan being the other] who taught me, not with their words, but with their pitching form. I could learn so much just by watching them throw sinkers on TV. That’s all it took.
Then I’d go outside with my glove and tennis ball and make nuanced adjustments to my own form as I pitched into an imaginary batter’s box on the side of the house.
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Mar 05 2010
Living with Indoor Animals Makes You Happy
It’s pleasant living with indoor animals. It’s also educational. Helpful even, like having the opportunity to live with Buddha,
to watch and learn from a living thing that instinctively knows precisely how to be comfortable, how to be forever stretched to ∞, like a baby blue blanket
blowing in the wind.
I’d venture to say that when most of us vacation, we cannot find the quality of comfort an indoor animal always exemplifies.
Think about it: an animal who doesn’t have to perform it’s primary instinct, which is to safeguard it’s life, this animal knows what it means to be comfortable, to live far
away from anxiety and unhappiness.
Most of us on vacation can’t walk that far away from our discontent, even if it’s a tiny dot, even if our discontent is impossible to find
under the microscope, covered and rubbed away by years of blind jubilation.
Even these among us, these emoticons of happiness, these 
, can’t walk that far away from their anxieties and unhappiness.
That’s because when on vacation, when somewhere deep in our dreams, even there, in the land of bliss, we reflect on sadness. On sad things.
There are many. No reason to deny that there are many sad things. But that doesn’t affect the Buddha in your home, sleeping fully in the most
comfortable place you’ve ever seen, a place that, to be honest, you’ve never truly seen. How could you have missed it?
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Feb 28 2010
Deep Thought #10
While sitting inside the red car that has carried me nearly 100,000 miles, I read Saramago’s Death with Interruptions and begin to think about the origin of life, because I do believe there is only one origin, not two or three or four, but one. From this single origin came life as we know it, or rather, as I know, life as I know it, because the life that you know is without a doubt very different from the life I know. You have only to consider my eyesight compared to yours, my strength compared to yours, my hearing compared to yours, my location compared to yours, my health compared to yours, my history compared to yours to understand that we know life differently. We have different viewpoints, different stories, different networks. But I am out to say more than just that we’re different. The reason why I stopped reading Saramago’s Death with Interruptions, which I find highly entertaining, to open my MSi Wind and write in my Everything Computer.txt, is because I felt a need to say that I believe in a unifying energy that I happen to call Dear Lord simply because I was raised Catholic. I am a cradle Catholic, as I‘ve said before, and there is nothing I can do to change this, barring time travel and heavy persuasion. But I do not want to change this. I am who I am. I am what I am. I am how I am. And I enjoy nothing more in life than working with who, what, and how I am. To change any of these birth rights would only leave me without any sense of identity. Not that I have a strong sense of identity, but at least I know who, what, and how I am, as I am, at the age of 30, which is no different than any other age except for the fact that I‘ve lost a heartbeat in my MHR, which is a nifty acronym for Maximum Heart Rate. Again I‘ve been derailed by my own meandering mind. Let me get back on course. The reason why I stopped reading Saramago while I sit in the red car that has carried me for nearly 100,000 miles, is because I felt a strong need to say that I believe there is an explanation for all things in life. There is a scientific explanation for everything. As time moves in however many directions it moves in at once, forward being one of them, our collective human minds will discover explanations for everything that was previously unexplainable, mysterious, unknown. Summits will reunite, labs will stay in business, artists will continue to create until everything, even the most obscure and unreachable, has been pinpointed. People will have the answers, or they will be able to source the answers. This will happen with or without belief in a unifying force that I, because of my Catholic upbringing, happen to call Dear Lord.
Frequency of the word I = 35.
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