The world seems to be carrying the burden of loss lately. The loss we are experiencing is not one we know how to react to. What injustice can be felt at the loss of a holy man? What anger can arise at nature for washing away entire cities?
Even the United States of America, who lowers their flag for little reason outside of their own existence, today, lowers their flag for on Nelson Mandela. For those of you who are unaware of who he is or what he did -- Mandela dedicated his life to bettering his country. He fought a legally binding racism and paved the way for mixed race leadership in his country. He was imprisoned for 27 years for his passion. Later in life he worked heavily with anti HIV charity.
Many will try and pin his greatness on character, change, goals. There are many reasons that he was a great man and we should mourn the loss of his enlightening presence. I recognize him most for the way he engaged what he believed in. Too often I meet those who choose to boycott. With statements like "It is hopeless." "What can I do?" and "I don't want to support a broken system." many excuse their lack of action. Mandela was actively involved in the system precisely because he wanted to change it. He had a career defined by involvement. He changed it from the inside. That is why I find him amazing.
And he is gone.
You can't change the flow of the river by standing on the riverbanks watching. Who will step up next?
We have hundreds of people stepping up right now to work in the Republic of the Philippines. After the tsunami sucked people from their beds and the earthquake flattened their homes-- we are responding.
We feel loss. No one was murdered. No terrorists attacked. No government official neglected his duties and allowed the death of his own people. We just saw life vanish. We mourn the loss. It is sad. It is really sad.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Mopey the missing dwarf.
Someone recently me accused me of moping. Being the strong independent female I am, I immediately entered defense mode and denied all accusations. "What! I am NOT moping or sulking or dwelling or anything of that nature!!" Needless to say my feathers were ruffled. I was very angry.
But then another friend said something similar to me, but put much more gently. The conversation went tosmething like this:
me: Friend, I feel as if the Universe hates me. Everything keeps going wrong.
friend: Silly, the Universe isn't making things go wrong, you are letting them.
What does this add up to? Get off your butt and make better decisions. Am I moping? Maybe not quite. To be fair there have been many things that have been out of my control. But there have been a lot of things that resulted directly from my own decisions. It always bothers me when women complain about all of the losers that they date. "Why can't I just find a good guy?" They mope. Now I feel a little like a hypocrite. I have been living my life as a risk taker-- live life to the fullest!!! But then act surprised or want people to bring me flowers when I break my leg skydiving as if I were involved in some tragedy and God hated me. Ha! I would like to take this moment to apologise to my dear friend. May they find my apology drifting through their space.
What am I trying to say? I believe in tragedy. I do. But I also believe that tragedy is very often misdiagnosed. Rather, moping is misdiagnosed for tragedy. People want to help. I promise. It is way easier to fix someone else's problems than your own-- solution? Get together with a buddy and everyone gets help! Ha! What an idea! Ok. I know it is not that simple. But getting out of any problem is only as complicated as it is. Emotions aside you can find a way. I believe in you, as I believe in myself. I am asking for help. Help!
But then another friend said something similar to me, but put much more gently. The conversation went tosmething like this:
me: Friend, I feel as if the Universe hates me. Everything keeps going wrong.
friend: Silly, the Universe isn't making things go wrong, you are letting them.
What does this add up to? Get off your butt and make better decisions. Am I moping? Maybe not quite. To be fair there have been many things that have been out of my control. But there have been a lot of things that resulted directly from my own decisions. It always bothers me when women complain about all of the losers that they date. "Why can't I just find a good guy?" They mope. Now I feel a little like a hypocrite. I have been living my life as a risk taker-- live life to the fullest!!! But then act surprised or want people to bring me flowers when I break my leg skydiving as if I were involved in some tragedy and God hated me. Ha! I would like to take this moment to apologise to my dear friend. May they find my apology drifting through their space.
What am I trying to say? I believe in tragedy. I do. But I also believe that tragedy is very often misdiagnosed. Rather, moping is misdiagnosed for tragedy. People want to help. I promise. It is way easier to fix someone else's problems than your own-- solution? Get together with a buddy and everyone gets help! Ha! What an idea! Ok. I know it is not that simple. But getting out of any problem is only as complicated as it is. Emotions aside you can find a way. I believe in you, as I believe in myself. I am asking for help. Help!
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Walking with Angels
I want to walk with the angels.
Who wouldn't?
Too many times these days I find myself lost. There is no much apathy. There is overwhelming selfishness. I feel alone and unloved and stagnant. I feel like rather than being a source of transformation I am rotting in the pile of filth that I live. I look around and see darkness. Where is the celebration? Where are the trumpets? Where are the angels? Where is the growth? The change? The life?
Peace on earth is found when sometimes,
I look up,
and realise that I love the people I am with.
I feel overflowing emotion as I stare at the faces that can simply be described as angels on earth.
I have often heard Christians say something to the effect of "Why feel unloved? Jesus loves you." But they seem to miss the point. How does one experience God's love? Where does it come from? God's love is not supposed to be abstract. Jesus was a real flesh and blood man. Is love not a basic need just as food and oxygen are? Do newborns not die in the hospital from a lack of love?
There is no lofty holy explanation for love. There is no abstract. How do you feel God's love? A creation of God shows it to you.
I once was flying from for Christmas. I had been out of the country by myself a long time and was put simply: tired. I checked my bag and they only routed it most of the way home -- I asked "Will I need to pay to recheck it?" I didn't have the money to check it. No, no I wouldn't. Yes, yes they were wrong. I arrive in Dulles not having slept more than a few hours all week. It is Christmas. I just want to go home. I step up to the counter to get my bags back on the aeroplane and the man says nonchalantly "That will be $85." I was mad. I didn't yell. I was too tired. I didn't cry. My feelings weren't hurt-- I had just been mislead and this man needed to do his job and apologise for the inconvenience and get me on my way. He was being unkind. I didn't know what to do. Legally I couldn't leave my bag. I didn't have the money to pay for it. I really wanted to go home. We were at a standstill with the lovely man over the counter yelling at me.
An angel intervened. I hear a gentle voice behind me whisper "Merry Christmas" as a delicate hand placed some cash on the counter, and walked away. I couldn't breathe. Tears began to slip through the cracks. Then I found myself sobbing. The man at the counter, ever impatient said some snide remark which I can now not remember. It didn't matter. Jesus loved me. Dulles loved me. A total stranger made Christmas beautiful for me. She may not know it, but there is a special place in heaven for her. She was an angel.
I hope I can some day be an angel as loving and beautiful as the Christmas spirit itself.
God bless. Merry Christmas.
Who wouldn't?
Too many times these days I find myself lost. There is no much apathy. There is overwhelming selfishness. I feel alone and unloved and stagnant. I feel like rather than being a source of transformation I am rotting in the pile of filth that I live. I look around and see darkness. Where is the celebration? Where are the trumpets? Where are the angels? Where is the growth? The change? The life?
Peace on earth is found when sometimes,
I look up,
and realise that I love the people I am with.
I feel overflowing emotion as I stare at the faces that can simply be described as angels on earth.
I have often heard Christians say something to the effect of "Why feel unloved? Jesus loves you." But they seem to miss the point. How does one experience God's love? Where does it come from? God's love is not supposed to be abstract. Jesus was a real flesh and blood man. Is love not a basic need just as food and oxygen are? Do newborns not die in the hospital from a lack of love?
There is no lofty holy explanation for love. There is no abstract. How do you feel God's love? A creation of God shows it to you.
I once was flying from for Christmas. I had been out of the country by myself a long time and was put simply: tired. I checked my bag and they only routed it most of the way home -- I asked "Will I need to pay to recheck it?" I didn't have the money to check it. No, no I wouldn't. Yes, yes they were wrong. I arrive in Dulles not having slept more than a few hours all week. It is Christmas. I just want to go home. I step up to the counter to get my bags back on the aeroplane and the man says nonchalantly "That will be $85." I was mad. I didn't yell. I was too tired. I didn't cry. My feelings weren't hurt-- I had just been mislead and this man needed to do his job and apologise for the inconvenience and get me on my way. He was being unkind. I didn't know what to do. Legally I couldn't leave my bag. I didn't have the money to pay for it. I really wanted to go home. We were at a standstill with the lovely man over the counter yelling at me.
An angel intervened. I hear a gentle voice behind me whisper "Merry Christmas" as a delicate hand placed some cash on the counter, and walked away. I couldn't breathe. Tears began to slip through the cracks. Then I found myself sobbing. The man at the counter, ever impatient said some snide remark which I can now not remember. It didn't matter. Jesus loved me. Dulles loved me. A total stranger made Christmas beautiful for me. She may not know it, but there is a special place in heaven for her. She was an angel.
I hope I can some day be an angel as loving and beautiful as the Christmas spirit itself.
God bless. Merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
New Endings
Step One:
Decide who you want to be.
Step Two:
Eliminate Obstacles.
Step Three:
Create an Ending.
It has often occurred to me that I wanted to start over. There are choices that we all make that perhaps we are not proud of, or things that we wish that we could take back, or maybe just that cocopuff that you should have eaten before they discontinued them. Many of these we look back on and sigh and wonder vaguely what life would have been like if we had just...
But what about when these past decisions build on each other? What happens when we make so many wrong choices that we aren't making right ones anymore? "What have I done?" morphs into "Who am I?" We ask this of ourselves not because we don't know the answer, but because we would like to wish it out of existence. We look in our introspective mirror and realise that person that we thought we were, or that we wanted to be isn't the one staring back at you. Like the shock of poor Mr. Dorian Gray when he laid eyes on his own image. The book tragically (or not so tragically) ends with his demise. In some ways I think he was fortunate. He saw himself, and died. Why would we ever want to look?? We Dorians in the real world have to live with the knowledge. Who am I? I don't want to know.
I don't want to know.
But in the pursuit of wanting to be happy (ask Plato) you can't avoid it forever.
And this is where I stand.
I looked in the mirror. I don't like what is looking back at me. How did I get here? One little mistake at a time. How do I get OUT? The answer? Create an Ending.
You can't start a new you till you confront what you don't like about the old one. You can't confront what you don't like about the old one until you know what you want. And this is where step one arises. DECIDE WHO YOU WANT TO BE.
This is hard. This is really really hard. Good luck.
I want to love. I want to love freely. I want my inhibitions to melt in the pursuit of a Good beyond myself. Practically speaking: I want my friends to feel like they can trust me. I want men to respect me. I want women to find comfort in my presence. I want to tell the people who love me how I am feeling because they love me and they deserve to know. I want to feed homeless people. I don't want to lie to avoid confrontation. (I hate confrontation) I want to have patience and focus and drive. I want to be like Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Jesus.
But how do I get there?
This is where most people fail. This is where I fail. I fail miserably I might add. How does one even start? I WANT TO CHANGE. Step two: Eliminate obstacles. This means: Pour out all the alcohol in your house. Tell all the boys on your phone that call you at 11 for a fun night that you are not seeing them anymore. Admit to those guys in that house with the stuff that you have a problem and can't be there anymore. Delete phone numbers, addresses, and end friendships.
But friendship is GOOD! Why am I ending good things? I take care of them! Without them, without me, someone might, I might, we might not...
When you face reality, ending a pattern involves taking away the hand, pen, and paper that were drawing it to begin with. When you are in the middle of it, by definition you can not also be above it. Clean your pallet. When you have done your housekeeping, move on to step three. You need an empty lot to build your dream house. A new beginning needs space to breathe and grow and struggle. I believe in you. I believe in me too. Oh. And one more thing. You are going to need lots and lots and lots of prayer. Ask anyone you know to pray for you. If you don't know anyone, go to a random church or such and fill out one of the little cards that is in the chairs or the little bulletins and put it in the basket or tray or metal dish. I am sure there is a hotline if you google it. =) Gotta love Google. I don't want to be broken anymore!
Create an Ending.
Decide who you want to be.
Step Two:
Eliminate Obstacles.
Step Three:
Create an Ending.
It has often occurred to me that I wanted to start over. There are choices that we all make that perhaps we are not proud of, or things that we wish that we could take back, or maybe just that cocopuff that you should have eaten before they discontinued them. Many of these we look back on and sigh and wonder vaguely what life would have been like if we had just...
But what about when these past decisions build on each other? What happens when we make so many wrong choices that we aren't making right ones anymore? "What have I done?" morphs into "Who am I?" We ask this of ourselves not because we don't know the answer, but because we would like to wish it out of existence. We look in our introspective mirror and realise that person that we thought we were, or that we wanted to be isn't the one staring back at you. Like the shock of poor Mr. Dorian Gray when he laid eyes on his own image. The book tragically (or not so tragically) ends with his demise. In some ways I think he was fortunate. He saw himself, and died. Why would we ever want to look?? We Dorians in the real world have to live with the knowledge. Who am I? I don't want to know.
I don't want to know.
But in the pursuit of wanting to be happy (ask Plato) you can't avoid it forever.
And this is where I stand.
I looked in the mirror. I don't like what is looking back at me. How did I get here? One little mistake at a time. How do I get OUT? The answer? Create an Ending.
You can't start a new you till you confront what you don't like about the old one. You can't confront what you don't like about the old one until you know what you want. And this is where step one arises. DECIDE WHO YOU WANT TO BE.
This is hard. This is really really hard. Good luck.
I want to love. I want to love freely. I want my inhibitions to melt in the pursuit of a Good beyond myself. Practically speaking: I want my friends to feel like they can trust me. I want men to respect me. I want women to find comfort in my presence. I want to tell the people who love me how I am feeling because they love me and they deserve to know. I want to feed homeless people. I don't want to lie to avoid confrontation. (I hate confrontation) I want to have patience and focus and drive. I want to be like Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Jesus.
But how do I get there?
This is where most people fail. This is where I fail. I fail miserably I might add. How does one even start? I WANT TO CHANGE. Step two: Eliminate obstacles. This means: Pour out all the alcohol in your house. Tell all the boys on your phone that call you at 11 for a fun night that you are not seeing them anymore. Admit to those guys in that house with the stuff that you have a problem and can't be there anymore. Delete phone numbers, addresses, and end friendships.
But friendship is GOOD! Why am I ending good things? I take care of them! Without them, without me, someone might, I might, we might not...
When you face reality, ending a pattern involves taking away the hand, pen, and paper that were drawing it to begin with. When you are in the middle of it, by definition you can not also be above it. Clean your pallet. When you have done your housekeeping, move on to step three. You need an empty lot to build your dream house. A new beginning needs space to breathe and grow and struggle. I believe in you. I believe in me too. Oh. And one more thing. You are going to need lots and lots and lots of prayer. Ask anyone you know to pray for you. If you don't know anyone, go to a random church or such and fill out one of the little cards that is in the chairs or the little bulletins and put it in the basket or tray or metal dish. I am sure there is a hotline if you google it. =) Gotta love Google. I don't want to be broken anymore!
Create an Ending.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Clearance Rack
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
A boy I love vanished from my company. He doesn't write, he doesn't call. Was he unhappy with the antique? Was my texture not to his liking? Did my polish not suite his mountain style?
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
I was replaced at work with a more mature, weathered, tested piece. Did I not match the other furniture? Were my legs not sturdy enough? Was I not serving my function?
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
I was thrown out. The man who had watched my creation and created the environment of peace and love to foster my elegance and refinement decided that I was ugly. I was a waste of wood.
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
Right?
How many times must I get rejected? How many times must I be returned? How many times must I be declared not good enough, lacking, defective, before I can't believe it anymore! What am I worth? I am only worth what someone will pay for me! They bring it home and keep it for a time and take it back! Whether it is because you don't match or because they found something better or because they simply would rather have nothing that have you, you have been returned!
Yes. I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
But I am on the clearance rack.
A boy I love vanished from my company. He doesn't write, he doesn't call. Was he unhappy with the antique? Was my texture not to his liking? Did my polish not suite his mountain style?
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
I was replaced at work with a more mature, weathered, tested piece. Did I not match the other furniture? Were my legs not sturdy enough? Was I not serving my function?
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
I was thrown out. The man who had watched my creation and created the environment of peace and love to foster my elegance and refinement decided that I was ugly. I was a waste of wood.
I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
Right?
How many times must I get rejected? How many times must I be returned? How many times must I be declared not good enough, lacking, defective, before I can't believe it anymore! What am I worth? I am only worth what someone will pay for me! They bring it home and keep it for a time and take it back! Whether it is because you don't match or because they found something better or because they simply would rather have nothing that have you, you have been returned!
Yes. I am an expensive antique. I am handmade. I am unique. I am beautiful. I am made with solid carefully selected wood. I am art.
But I am on the clearance rack.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Heart out of the Wild
 |
| My lovely accomplice and I made the unfortunate mistake of having WAY too much fun... Missing the "No Gas Next 200 Miles" oops. |
First your job throws you a wild card,
then your mom,
then your dog,
then your house,
then life rumbles around and tosses you a couple more.
This blog is about Heart. It is about having heart. It is about the nature of the heart. It is about using your heart.
This is about what comes out of the wild cards.
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