Why? Why can't I eat it? Why shouldn't I touch that? Can you carry me? Will it hurt? Are we there yet? Do we have to go home? Do I have to eat that? Am I a good girl momma? Can I have a dog? When will I grow up? Why does it hurt? Will the tooth fairy come? Will you tuck me in? Are you praying momma? Where does Santa live? Why is Buster sick? Is it tomorrow yet? Can I keep the cat? Do I have to get up? Do I have to go to school? Where's dada? Why won't you read "The Monster at the End of The Book" again? Why is momma crying? Are you guys getting a divorce? Do you love me? Why can't I play? Why did granny die? Will I die? Where did she go? Will God send her back? It's not fair, is it? Do I have to take out the trash? Why should I worry about starving children in Africa? Do I have to go to church again? Why can't I wear makeup? Are you sad, dada? Can I spend the night at Sara's? Tracy's mom lets her, so why won't you? What homework? Why doesn't he call? Did he call? Will he kiss me? Am I in love? Can I go to the prom? Am I too fat? Does he love me, does he love me not? God, why do I hurt so much? Can I borrow the car? Why do I have to be back by 11? Can't I stay later? Why? Don't you trust me? It's never fair, is it? Why won't my parents understand me? What if I don't want to go to College? Can I be an actress? A lawyer!? What if I want to be a doctor? What if I'm not good enough? Please God, will I get in? Is my room the guest room now? Why do we have to go to war for peace? Can't we put an end to world hunger instead? Why's life so hard? Why didn't you tell me it was this tough? Can you send me some money? Why are you crying? Aren't you proud I made it? When will I start earning real money? Is this true love? How will I know he's the one? Will you marry me? Who said marriage is all bliss? Who said raising children is a piece of cake? How was your day honey? Why didn't they tell me it was this tough? Do you know how much I love you kid? God, why can't I get a good night's sleep? Were you a good boy? Where does it hurt? Lets see, what did Santa bring you? Did you brush your teeth? Did you say your prayers? You hid your sister where? Why can't they just grow up? Which of you didn't let the dog out? Can't you just take the trash out for once without being asked? Why are you sad? How was your day? Why do you want the car keys? Oh God, will you keep them safe? Is this what my parents went through? What makes you think you're fat? What are you afraid of? Do you know how beautifully handsome you are? Can you believe they're out of high school? When did they grow up so fast? Do we convert his room into the guest room? What do you mean another semester? Do you know how much it costs to send you to college? Why am I crying? Did you get the job? Do you know how proud of you I am? Did you call your dad? Are you eating right? Isn't it pitiful that we're still at war, and world hunger is on the rise? Did you hear about Sara's cancer? Did she have to die so young? Life's not always fair, is it? When do I meet this love of yours? Son, is she good to you? Have you set the date? Do I look fat in this dress? Daughter, will you be at church this Sunday? Dada, can I help you with that? Momma, didn't you hear me? Will you and dada visit us this year? Kids, did you thank your grandparents for the gift? Do you miss your grandpa as much as I do? Why do I feel like an orphan without my parents around? When is our next church meeting? Did you sign up to volunteer for the cause? Have you seen my glasses? Why am I starting to feel old? Really? I'm going to be a grandma? Isn't my grandchild the cutest? Who knew being a grandparent would be this rewarding? Why don't you put some socks on those little feet? Won't he catch a cold like that? Do you want me to baby-sit? You want me to read "The Monster at the End of the Book"? Again!? Did you brush your teeth? Did you say your prayers? Do you know how much I love you? Isn't life wonderful? What did I do to earn such joy? Did you call the doctor? Why am I tired? Why do my joints hurt? Did my best friend have to die so soon? God, why does it hurt so much? Why are we still at war? When is the next church meeting? How are the grand kids? Did they get the birthday card I sent them? Did they get their graduation gifts I sent them? Where did you say you were going for Christmas this year? Will I see you soon? Did the kids call? Did anyone call? Is it time for dinner? Why do I have to stay up till 9 p.m.? Why can't I go to bed earlier? God, why can't I get a good night's sleep? Do I have to get up in the morning? Was it only yesterday? Do I have to swallow those pills? Why am I crying? What did I spend my time on? With whom did I spend my time? God, I don't remember...was I a good person? Why can't I stay a little longer? Do they know I love them? Do I have to go? Why? Please God, will you carry me? Did I make it God? Am I home yet?
This I humbly speak... with no more questions.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread
Thanksgiving Day is a day nationally dedicated to prayer, praise and gratitude. It is a day of faith that dedicates us to something bigger and more important than ourselves and our possessions. It is a day where the truth in the words of the Lord's Prayers, "Give us this day our daily bread," comes to life. Truth as old and simple as this came to life for me on a Thanksgiving Day some 10 years ago.
Years ago, when my children were children, we made it a family tradition to volunteer for Thanksgiving at the local Salvation Army of Pomona and Ontario. We each took on responsibilities based on our strengths or abilities. My husband loved to wear an apron and serve the public, (although, for the life of me, I could never get him to do that at home!) My daughter held infants or looked after them while their mothers ate. My son enjoyed greeting people and waiting at tables. I helped cook, serve or manage the kitchen.
During one of those years of service, there was a little girl, impeccably dressed, who had come with her mother to volunteer. She must have been no older than eight or nine. Her mother must have brought her there for the same reason that I used to bring my children at that young age. To teach them that with their own good fortune came the responsibility to give back to the world. To encourage them to become more spontaneous in giving and sharing and caring and reaching out to their fellow men and neighbors. To be grateful for whatever they had.
The Captain, who ran the operation of the Salvation Army, said a prayer of thanks for the food to be received, and the the din of a lively dining room came to life among 200 guests with the hustle and bustle of volunteers who went back and forth eagerly serving plates of food. The aroma of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, candied yams, green beans and fresh oven baked buttered rolls was so intoxicating as it wafted from the kitchen into the service area and the dining room that it whet the appetites of all who attended, guests and hosts alike. It was too inviting especially for the little girl who had helped serve some hot rolls and who now stood next to her mother while guests were eating. Suddenly, she turned to her mother and, in a voice clearly audible, she blurted, "Momma, I wish we were poor also, so I could eat some of this food."
For a brief moment, silence reigned. I sensed the mother's embarassment. She didn't know quite what to say. At that moment a solemn laborer at the table looked up from his plate. You could tell life had knocked him around. But I remember vividly, his worn face lit up with a truth as old and simple as, "Oh child, you don't have to be poor to receive this gift...just blessed. Join us."
This tired man, despite the hardship in his life, had shown us the meaning of "give us this day our daily bread." The value of such a prayer is to remind us that regardless of our life situation, receiving the food that we eat is as much a gift as it is an earned reward. It is a reminder of our daily dependence on the graciousness of God. And especially today, when our hearts are more focused on the gratuitous blessings of family gatherings, let us become more spontaneous in our daily recognition of the divine goodness in our lives.
Have a wonderful and contented Thanksgiving, today and everyday.
This I humbly speak, with a content heart.
Years ago, when my children were children, we made it a family tradition to volunteer for Thanksgiving at the local Salvation Army of Pomona and Ontario. We each took on responsibilities based on our strengths or abilities. My husband loved to wear an apron and serve the public, (although, for the life of me, I could never get him to do that at home!) My daughter held infants or looked after them while their mothers ate. My son enjoyed greeting people and waiting at tables. I helped cook, serve or manage the kitchen.
During one of those years of service, there was a little girl, impeccably dressed, who had come with her mother to volunteer. She must have been no older than eight or nine. Her mother must have brought her there for the same reason that I used to bring my children at that young age. To teach them that with their own good fortune came the responsibility to give back to the world. To encourage them to become more spontaneous in giving and sharing and caring and reaching out to their fellow men and neighbors. To be grateful for whatever they had.
The Captain, who ran the operation of the Salvation Army, said a prayer of thanks for the food to be received, and the the din of a lively dining room came to life among 200 guests with the hustle and bustle of volunteers who went back and forth eagerly serving plates of food. The aroma of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, candied yams, green beans and fresh oven baked buttered rolls was so intoxicating as it wafted from the kitchen into the service area and the dining room that it whet the appetites of all who attended, guests and hosts alike. It was too inviting especially for the little girl who had helped serve some hot rolls and who now stood next to her mother while guests were eating. Suddenly, she turned to her mother and, in a voice clearly audible, she blurted, "Momma, I wish we were poor also, so I could eat some of this food."
For a brief moment, silence reigned. I sensed the mother's embarassment. She didn't know quite what to say. At that moment a solemn laborer at the table looked up from his plate. You could tell life had knocked him around. But I remember vividly, his worn face lit up with a truth as old and simple as, "Oh child, you don't have to be poor to receive this gift...just blessed. Join us."
This tired man, despite the hardship in his life, had shown us the meaning of "give us this day our daily bread." The value of such a prayer is to remind us that regardless of our life situation, receiving the food that we eat is as much a gift as it is an earned reward. It is a reminder of our daily dependence on the graciousness of God. And especially today, when our hearts are more focused on the gratuitous blessings of family gatherings, let us become more spontaneous in our daily recognition of the divine goodness in our lives.
Have a wonderful and contented Thanksgiving, today and everyday.
This I humbly speak, with a content heart.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
I Miss The Sounds
I read the other day, that the most dominant memories that seem to persist are smell and odor linked. Second comes sound. Strange as it may seem, for most of us it is our noses that have such a hold on our memories. The familiar aroma of baked bread, the scent of perfume or suntan lotion, the smell of coffee or herbs, the musty odor of a damp room or even the reek of rotten food...all have the power to retrieve a detailed picture of past times and either whet the palate and stimulate the appetite or repulse the body causing shudders up and down the spine. But, for me, equally important are certain sounds that evoke not just a memory but a yearning for the familiar, like a song or melody, a sound that reminds me where my roots were planted by a humanity whose differing beliefs have been under attack for many years but have not been defeated. I came to know these sounds of differing beliefs as a child raised in the Middle East and abroad.
I grew up to appreciate the vibrations of bells ringing from the belfry of churches during the long summer months of my childhood in Lebanon or schooling in England. Bells that beckon arrivals and departures, births and funerals, weddings, baptisms and a call to prayer. I miss the bells. I grew up to appreciate the echoes of praise by Imams bellowing from high atop the minarets and over flat roof tops during the hot drawn days in the deserts of Kuwait. I miss the Adham or "call to prayer." I grew up to appreciate the resonating sound of chimes and gongs from neighbors' homes leading their Buddhist friends into the early hours of meditation. I miss the gongs that beckon. I grew up to recognize the sounds that raised our consciousness into an internal state of refuge beyond our mundane concerns of day to day life. For these are the sounds that publicly call the populace to prayer and meditation reminding us to take a moment away from our quest for daily bread and reach within ourselves. In a world that is constantly moving at a pace that allows little time for personal introspection, I miss the daily sounds that act as a beacon for the vines of my soul, sounds that take me back to the roots of my upbringing. These are the sounds that bring forth a familiar calm, a feeling of mysterious connectedness linking me to others despite our vast differences in the complexities of our daily lives. These are the sounds that connect me to the solemn laborer with his bent back and to the woman with her gnarled hands; to the taxi driver who, in passing a church, automatically makes the sign of the cross while his fare in the back seat, twirls a string of blue worry beads between his forefinger and thumb; to the shopkeeper who takes a moment to recite verses of praise while listening to the cantor from a synagogue. I miss these sounds.
Like smells that unfold memories, the ability of sound to induce meditative states is a well known practice of thousands of years to Hindu and Buddhist, Christian and Muslim, Jewish or Shinto cultures which uses rhythmic chanting, drums, chimes, gongs, bells and repetitive verse to awaken the consciousness and revitalize the knowledge and need of prayer. In our quest for our daily bread we are often numbed by the outside world. We run to meetings, we run to leave, we buy, we sell, we negotiate and deal. As working people we have become careless with our religion, and we seem to have cut God out of our lives. And though we live in a country that allows for freedom of worship without public imposition of bells and chimes and Adham, I truly wonder whether the non exposure to sounds that remind us to respect the other man's time of worship is doing us more of a disservice by promoting a further lack of tolerance and understanding of the differing beliefs.
In our constantly moving modern world, we need some grounding. Life as we know it often catches us in a web of circular mazes. But for that brief moment when we hear the sounds that remind us to breathe... the tintinnabulation of bells, the Adham of the Imam, cantors in temples or the resonance of the gongs...it is our chance to slow down or even stop to listen, regardless of whether the bells call me or her or him to prayer. At that moment and ever so briefly, we are all being refreshed and become vessels of God.
Find that particular sound in your daily lives that will prompt you to take a moment to meditate and reflect, and for that brief moment you and I will remove ourselves from the web that robs us of our ties with God and we will find ourselves together gaining strength in our pursuit of the mundane.
This I humbly speak...
I grew up to appreciate the vibrations of bells ringing from the belfry of churches during the long summer months of my childhood in Lebanon or schooling in England. Bells that beckon arrivals and departures, births and funerals, weddings, baptisms and a call to prayer. I miss the bells. I grew up to appreciate the echoes of praise by Imams bellowing from high atop the minarets and over flat roof tops during the hot drawn days in the deserts of Kuwait. I miss the Adham or "call to prayer." I grew up to appreciate the resonating sound of chimes and gongs from neighbors' homes leading their Buddhist friends into the early hours of meditation. I miss the gongs that beckon. I grew up to recognize the sounds that raised our consciousness into an internal state of refuge beyond our mundane concerns of day to day life. For these are the sounds that publicly call the populace to prayer and meditation reminding us to take a moment away from our quest for daily bread and reach within ourselves. In a world that is constantly moving at a pace that allows little time for personal introspection, I miss the daily sounds that act as a beacon for the vines of my soul, sounds that take me back to the roots of my upbringing. These are the sounds that bring forth a familiar calm, a feeling of mysterious connectedness linking me to others despite our vast differences in the complexities of our daily lives. These are the sounds that connect me to the solemn laborer with his bent back and to the woman with her gnarled hands; to the taxi driver who, in passing a church, automatically makes the sign of the cross while his fare in the back seat, twirls a string of blue worry beads between his forefinger and thumb; to the shopkeeper who takes a moment to recite verses of praise while listening to the cantor from a synagogue. I miss these sounds.
Like smells that unfold memories, the ability of sound to induce meditative states is a well known practice of thousands of years to Hindu and Buddhist, Christian and Muslim, Jewish or Shinto cultures which uses rhythmic chanting, drums, chimes, gongs, bells and repetitive verse to awaken the consciousness and revitalize the knowledge and need of prayer. In our quest for our daily bread we are often numbed by the outside world. We run to meetings, we run to leave, we buy, we sell, we negotiate and deal. As working people we have become careless with our religion, and we seem to have cut God out of our lives. And though we live in a country that allows for freedom of worship without public imposition of bells and chimes and Adham, I truly wonder whether the non exposure to sounds that remind us to respect the other man's time of worship is doing us more of a disservice by promoting a further lack of tolerance and understanding of the differing beliefs.
In our constantly moving modern world, we need some grounding. Life as we know it often catches us in a web of circular mazes. But for that brief moment when we hear the sounds that remind us to breathe... the tintinnabulation of bells, the Adham of the Imam, cantors in temples or the resonance of the gongs...it is our chance to slow down or even stop to listen, regardless of whether the bells call me or her or him to prayer. At that moment and ever so briefly, we are all being refreshed and become vessels of God.
Find that particular sound in your daily lives that will prompt you to take a moment to meditate and reflect, and for that brief moment you and I will remove ourselves from the web that robs us of our ties with God and we will find ourselves together gaining strength in our pursuit of the mundane.
This I humbly speak...
Monday, August 23, 2010
I Believe in the Basic Goodness of Man
I inadvertently posted on my blog an article written for a literary magazine. Thanks to all who brought it to my attention. Here is the actual article written for the blog.
I have faith in the basic goodness of man. I am well aware that the conflict of good and bad merge, and it is often hard to distinguish beauty and virtue and kindness and laughter from all ugliness and wickedness and hurtfulness and sadness. But I accept the imperfections of the world (not because it was created imperfect, but was made imperfect by man's complexity of behaviour) and despite man's faults, I have faith that his virtues outweigh his failings. Kindness is at the heart of my belief that people are basically good. It is the vehicle through which, in the larger struggle of good and bad, we rely on to sustain hope. Time after time, it is through kindness that we rise above trying circumstances, putting others before ourselves. Earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes and hurricanes, mudslides, rock slides, fires and floods, famine, medical aid, vaccines, shelter, illness and death...our spontaneous impulse is to lend a hand sending ripples that bring us back to that place of instinctive goodness which is deeply rooted in us from birth...a place from where we sometimes drift away until we are reminded by some misfortune or crisis to return to.
I believe that there is more good than bad in this world, despite the negative outlook of radio talk show hosts and reports in the news of wrong doings and crime. For every report of a crime, there are thousands of decent, kind and honest individuals whose good deeds do not make the news but whose goodness softens hearts. I believe there are more people in this world who wish to create than there are those who wish to destroy. Take a look around. There are tens of thousands of volunteers in every fork and bend of our lives who spend countless hours doing their level best without thanks or glory to create, to shelter, to aid, to build, to strengthen a system in a world they believe in. For each single person who refuses to feed a hungry, there are hundreds who open their doors and invite the needy to a meal. There is ready charity all around. I believe that humanity has more people who are willing to work to find solutions with the promise of hope than those who sit back and shrug their shoulders in careless negligence often giving rise to fear. Doing good becomes a struggle we all face as we acknowledge that life is painful and difficult at times. I also know that the ability to take in the beauty and goodness that surrounds me is a grace to be recognized as fortunate as the goodness itself. Goodness is soft and subtle. It can sometimes go unnoticed because it is often hidden in the beauty we take for granted. When recognized and acknowledged, it permeates whatever it comes in contact with and reminds us of our basic impulse, our natural beginnings, and of what goodness could be and should be. After all, what is the measure of a society if not how well it treats the less fortunate among its members? We become the person who behaves spontaneously with grateful goodness, thus transforming a sometimes confused and discouraged world into one strung together with obvious goodness, the mirror of compassion.
This I humbly speak...
I have faith in the basic goodness of man. I am well aware that the conflict of good and bad merge, and it is often hard to distinguish beauty and virtue and kindness and laughter from all ugliness and wickedness and hurtfulness and sadness. But I accept the imperfections of the world (not because it was created imperfect, but was made imperfect by man's complexity of behaviour) and despite man's faults, I have faith that his virtues outweigh his failings. Kindness is at the heart of my belief that people are basically good. It is the vehicle through which, in the larger struggle of good and bad, we rely on to sustain hope. Time after time, it is through kindness that we rise above trying circumstances, putting others before ourselves. Earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes and hurricanes, mudslides, rock slides, fires and floods, famine, medical aid, vaccines, shelter, illness and death...our spontaneous impulse is to lend a hand sending ripples that bring us back to that place of instinctive goodness which is deeply rooted in us from birth...a place from where we sometimes drift away until we are reminded by some misfortune or crisis to return to.
I believe that there is more good than bad in this world, despite the negative outlook of radio talk show hosts and reports in the news of wrong doings and crime. For every report of a crime, there are thousands of decent, kind and honest individuals whose good deeds do not make the news but whose goodness softens hearts. I believe there are more people in this world who wish to create than there are those who wish to destroy. Take a look around. There are tens of thousands of volunteers in every fork and bend of our lives who spend countless hours doing their level best without thanks or glory to create, to shelter, to aid, to build, to strengthen a system in a world they believe in. For each single person who refuses to feed a hungry, there are hundreds who open their doors and invite the needy to a meal. There is ready charity all around. I believe that humanity has more people who are willing to work to find solutions with the promise of hope than those who sit back and shrug their shoulders in careless negligence often giving rise to fear. Doing good becomes a struggle we all face as we acknowledge that life is painful and difficult at times. I also know that the ability to take in the beauty and goodness that surrounds me is a grace to be recognized as fortunate as the goodness itself. Goodness is soft and subtle. It can sometimes go unnoticed because it is often hidden in the beauty we take for granted. When recognized and acknowledged, it permeates whatever it comes in contact with and reminds us of our basic impulse, our natural beginnings, and of what goodness could be and should be. After all, what is the measure of a society if not how well it treats the less fortunate among its members? We become the person who behaves spontaneously with grateful goodness, thus transforming a sometimes confused and discouraged world into one strung together with obvious goodness, the mirror of compassion.
This I humbly speak...
Monday, August 16, 2010
Surviving Gains and Losses
These past three years have hit hard the average citizen who's spending money has diminished while unemployment numbers have risen along with the cost of living. The consumer market is down as is consumer spirit. Residents of nearly every city have seen stores close, and in every corner, "For Lease" or "For Sale" signs are posted in windows of vacant buildings. Store owners and managers wait anxiously for that one customer or two or few to come through their doors with the slim chance that they will make a purchase, and if they are to buy, they 'shop 'til they drop' for that bargain piece or advertised special. Many retailers have not survived; some are on their last leg, while others will survive, getting through the current hard times by identifying with the customer base they serve.
One such company is Stater Bros., the largest privately owned supermarket chain in Southern California and, according to the Daily Bulletin, the largest private employer in San Bernardino County with 19,000 employees. Last week, the chain reported a third-quarter decline of 60 percent in profits yet sales were down only 0.6 percent for the third quarter. Because their customers did not have the spending power, Stater Bros. cut prices on 10,000 items last year and absorbed a 66 percent reduction in profits to accommodate their customers. Costs rose but prices did not.
For the past 30 some years, I have shopped Stater Bros. because they have shown to be a community minded company with one set of prices (regular or sale) available to all their customers without club, saving or membership cards. Despite losses, the chain continues to support area charities, food banks and children's hospitals among other benevolent acts of giving. I encourage everyone to find and support a Stater Bros. within his/her community. There are 52 markets in San Bernardino County, 47 in Riverside County, 30 in Orange County, 25 in Los Angeles County, and 11 in San Diego County. I encourage you to find and sponsor companies, retailers, businesses and organizations that know the essential right actions, that once taken, will put their customers, the average citizen in step with the natural order of things and on course with what comes next. Gains and losses are built in to our lives, like windows and doors in a car. Companies like Stater Bros. understand this. We experience prosperity when our actions with respect to money are righteous actions--that is, actions of generosity, actions of offering. Companies that seek merely their personal gain do not have an understanding of what money will do for them and others to sustain us through the windows and doors of life. In the long run, businesses such as Stater Bros. will be the survivors hand in hand with their customer base.
This I humbly speak...
(No, I am neither the spokeswoman for Stater Bros. nor do I have a vested interest in the company.I do, however, support many of their charities and charity events.)
One such company is Stater Bros., the largest privately owned supermarket chain in Southern California and, according to the Daily Bulletin, the largest private employer in San Bernardino County with 19,000 employees. Last week, the chain reported a third-quarter decline of 60 percent in profits yet sales were down only 0.6 percent for the third quarter. Because their customers did not have the spending power, Stater Bros. cut prices on 10,000 items last year and absorbed a 66 percent reduction in profits to accommodate their customers. Costs rose but prices did not.
For the past 30 some years, I have shopped Stater Bros. because they have shown to be a community minded company with one set of prices (regular or sale) available to all their customers without club, saving or membership cards. Despite losses, the chain continues to support area charities, food banks and children's hospitals among other benevolent acts of giving. I encourage everyone to find and support a Stater Bros. within his/her community. There are 52 markets in San Bernardino County, 47 in Riverside County, 30 in Orange County, 25 in Los Angeles County, and 11 in San Diego County. I encourage you to find and sponsor companies, retailers, businesses and organizations that know the essential right actions, that once taken, will put their customers, the average citizen in step with the natural order of things and on course with what comes next. Gains and losses are built in to our lives, like windows and doors in a car. Companies like Stater Bros. understand this. We experience prosperity when our actions with respect to money are righteous actions--that is, actions of generosity, actions of offering. Companies that seek merely their personal gain do not have an understanding of what money will do for them and others to sustain us through the windows and doors of life. In the long run, businesses such as Stater Bros. will be the survivors hand in hand with their customer base.
This I humbly speak...
(No, I am neither the spokeswoman for Stater Bros. nor do I have a vested interest in the company.I do, however, support many of their charities and charity events.)
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I Climb a Mountain
I stepped on the treadmill. Reluctantly, I pressed the speed to a crawl pace just to go through the motion of doing something after having pulled myself out of bed.
"Come on," urged Id. "Put more energy into it. You're not going to get away with that, not after all the nagging you've done in the past about 'discipline and good habits that become character'," he said, imitating my tone of voice.
"Well that was then," I said. "I now don't see the need to develop any one's character. I'm comfortable without the challenge."
"What happened to all those years of telling us to get out of our comfort zone?" chimed Soul.
"Yeah," said Id. "you were the one who always pushed and said that challenging yourself physically and mentally and getting out of your comfort zone by doing things you usually spend time and energy trying to avoid were the things that kept you going in life."
"Yes, but..."
"No buts." I was interrupted by Soul again. "You seem to have forgotten how you dragged me into a hike up Mt. Baldy on a Sunday morning when I certainly wasn't wanting to go and Id was doing all he could to also avoid the activity, and remember what you said?" she asked, questioning my ideology.
I smiled at the recollection. In those days, I literally thought that spending a morning on a weekend lounging around the house in front of a TV was not the best example of disciplined behaviour especially since I held on to the thought that actions become habits and habits become character. Of course I remembered! I had dragged Soul and Id with the promise of feeling ultimate delight when reaching the top of the mountain telling them "to concentrate on the end result and know that the way down is always easier than the way up, no matter where or in what situation you are in life. Besides," I had said, "when you reach the top, you'll see the valley meeting the ocean below, a view crafted by the hand of God." And with that, Soul and Id had reluctantly accompanied me to absorb whatever I fed them of life.
"Practice what you preach," chuckled Id and brought me back to the dreaded treadmill. "Concentrate on the end result."
"Okay! Enough already!" I brushed him off with annoyance.
Yet, the recollection of my past perseverance ignited a spark that fueled the drive to motivate the challenge within. I increased my speed to a fast walk as I felt the soft rolling floor of the treadmill beneath the soles of my feet. It did not compare to the rugged terrain of the mountain, yet the instrument through which life is lived is the human body. All our experiences are made manifest through the body dictated by the mind. The fatigue, the pounding heart, the surge of adrenalin and the ultimate delight in reaching the top are all part of the mind--body experience.
I increased the speed once more. I started running. I made my heart pound with a boom... boom. My sides pained sharply. There was no one ahead of me and no one behind me. Just the sound of my shoes slapping the rolling stretch of treadmill. Slap, slap, boom, slap, boom, slap, slap, boom. The rhythm was intoxicating like an incantation. I raised the incline to resemble the last stretch of mountain elevation, as I pictured myself on the slopes of Mt. Baldy or Faraya, Mt. Whitsett, Sannin, or the Cedars and all the peaks I'd climbed to watch the views "crafted by the hand of God." I was like a bird stretching her wings to fly over the hills; it felt like a song, a gush of wind, a breathtaking gulp of air, an exhilarating shout.
I slowed down at last, breathing heavily, almost crying, having used both body and mind to relive the ecstasy of having reached the finish line, as it were, and proving once more that the climb was always worth the effort.
"Well done," said Soul softly.
"Thanks," I panted.
"Not too bad," said Id, always leaving room for more.
"Thanks," I repeated.
Tomorrow, I'll climb another mountain.
This I humbly speak...
"Come on," urged Id. "Put more energy into it. You're not going to get away with that, not after all the nagging you've done in the past about 'discipline and good habits that become character'," he said, imitating my tone of voice.
"Well that was then," I said. "I now don't see the need to develop any one's character. I'm comfortable without the challenge."
"What happened to all those years of telling us to get out of our comfort zone?" chimed Soul.
"Yeah," said Id. "you were the one who always pushed and said that challenging yourself physically and mentally and getting out of your comfort zone by doing things you usually spend time and energy trying to avoid were the things that kept you going in life."
"Yes, but..."
"No buts." I was interrupted by Soul again. "You seem to have forgotten how you dragged me into a hike up Mt. Baldy on a Sunday morning when I certainly wasn't wanting to go and Id was doing all he could to also avoid the activity, and remember what you said?" she asked, questioning my ideology.
I smiled at the recollection. In those days, I literally thought that spending a morning on a weekend lounging around the house in front of a TV was not the best example of disciplined behaviour especially since I held on to the thought that actions become habits and habits become character. Of course I remembered! I had dragged Soul and Id with the promise of feeling ultimate delight when reaching the top of the mountain telling them "to concentrate on the end result and know that the way down is always easier than the way up, no matter where or in what situation you are in life. Besides," I had said, "when you reach the top, you'll see the valley meeting the ocean below, a view crafted by the hand of God." And with that, Soul and Id had reluctantly accompanied me to absorb whatever I fed them of life.
"Practice what you preach," chuckled Id and brought me back to the dreaded treadmill. "Concentrate on the end result."
"Okay! Enough already!" I brushed him off with annoyance.
Yet, the recollection of my past perseverance ignited a spark that fueled the drive to motivate the challenge within. I increased my speed to a fast walk as I felt the soft rolling floor of the treadmill beneath the soles of my feet. It did not compare to the rugged terrain of the mountain, yet the instrument through which life is lived is the human body. All our experiences are made manifest through the body dictated by the mind. The fatigue, the pounding heart, the surge of adrenalin and the ultimate delight in reaching the top are all part of the mind--body experience.
I increased the speed once more. I started running. I made my heart pound with a boom... boom. My sides pained sharply. There was no one ahead of me and no one behind me. Just the sound of my shoes slapping the rolling stretch of treadmill. Slap, slap, boom, slap, boom, slap, slap, boom. The rhythm was intoxicating like an incantation. I raised the incline to resemble the last stretch of mountain elevation, as I pictured myself on the slopes of Mt. Baldy or Faraya, Mt. Whitsett, Sannin, or the Cedars and all the peaks I'd climbed to watch the views "crafted by the hand of God." I was like a bird stretching her wings to fly over the hills; it felt like a song, a gush of wind, a breathtaking gulp of air, an exhilarating shout.
I slowed down at last, breathing heavily, almost crying, having used both body and mind to relive the ecstasy of having reached the finish line, as it were, and proving once more that the climb was always worth the effort.
"Well done," said Soul softly.
"Thanks," I panted.
"Not too bad," said Id, always leaving room for more.
"Thanks," I repeated.
Tomorrow, I'll climb another mountain.
This I humbly speak...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Housewife, Homemaker, Domestic Engineer
Let's face it, women have made substantial gains in the field of law, business, medicine, behavioral sciences, engineering and other areas of professionalism that were traditionally thought to be man's domain. This is a direct result of the feminist movement which has brought a variety of social and cultural changes, impacting and affecting family relations, religion, the place of women in society, gendered language (the she/he factor) and relationships between women and men.
There was a time when women were called "housewives." Then came the time when housewives were called to work in industry to bear the burden of breadwinner and keep the home front operating while men were fighting or dying for country. Upon the return of men and "normalcy" of life, women became fed up with the gender inequality and took enormous steps to change that image. During the early '70's, some men, whether envious of a woman's option to choose to be employed or through unfortunate challenges, stayed home and became "househusbands." Meanwhile, women moved forward with their plight for equality through education and employment. The gender language changed, and "housewives" and "househusbands" became "homemakers," especially since wife and husband were becoming less of a necessary factor in creating a family. The idea of working for extra comfort and material things, and deriving pleasure from owning a house (or bigger house), a car (or luxury car) became not just status symbols of 'old fashioned' men, but the measure of a modern woman's hard earned success. Women became self reliant and career oriented, moving the gage on the "equal-meter" closer to the center. Meanwhile, educated women who chose to put career aside to raise a family moved from the warmer, more homey description of their title of homemaker to the colder, rigid, linear approach of today's "domestic engineer." Even Roseanne Barr of the Roseanne show said in one of her episodes, "I hate the word housewife; I don't like the word homemaker either. I want to be called Domestic Goddess."
Today, the educated young generation of women are reaching new peaks. According to a recent CNN research report, 22% of women are now better educated than their husbands or make more money. While it is wonderful to be part of a generation that has evolved from a society that traditionally assigned women the role of money handling to that of money-making, I fear we are in the middle of a culture in which instead of moving toward the center, we are switching sides. At the risk of being gender-incorrect, I see current culture defeminizing our women and feminizing our men, or as some might prefer, masculinizing our women and demasculinizing our men. Currently, more working men than women are unemployed,* and with the rise of women determined to crack the "glass ceiling" or raise the bar further to excel at all cost even if it entails becoming romance resistant, men are filling in the shoes of domestic engineers and adapting to the reversal of gender roles with ease. There are men out there who choose to become more of a family man than more of a business man. Yet, with all the liberated idealism, this is a choice that, unfortunately, is often frowned upon by the career woman. Women,(whether because of need or desire)once again are bearing the burden--or the opportunity--of being breadwinners. Whether woman wants to be a career woman who runs the rat race and cracks the glass ceiling, or she wants to be a domestic engineer who focuses on raising a family and molding children by her values and ideals, is a rightful choice she makes. I support her choice. By the same token, if a man chooses or wishes to become the domestic engineer while the woman earns the keep, he should be able to do so without demeaning commentary from existing culture. I support the man. And perhaps in a few short years, a well educated, high salaried, well established career woman might come his way and ask for his hand as the perfect domestic engineer to form a family partnership!
Maybe it's time to reconsider the Feminist title and change it to the Equalist.
What say you?
This I humbly speak...
*Current Population Survey and Employment Statistics, Bureau of Labor Statistics published in The New York Times, Business Section, Feb.6,2009
There was a time when women were called "housewives." Then came the time when housewives were called to work in industry to bear the burden of breadwinner and keep the home front operating while men were fighting or dying for country. Upon the return of men and "normalcy" of life, women became fed up with the gender inequality and took enormous steps to change that image. During the early '70's, some men, whether envious of a woman's option to choose to be employed or through unfortunate challenges, stayed home and became "househusbands." Meanwhile, women moved forward with their plight for equality through education and employment. The gender language changed, and "housewives" and "househusbands" became "homemakers," especially since wife and husband were becoming less of a necessary factor in creating a family. The idea of working for extra comfort and material things, and deriving pleasure from owning a house (or bigger house), a car (or luxury car) became not just status symbols of 'old fashioned' men, but the measure of a modern woman's hard earned success. Women became self reliant and career oriented, moving the gage on the "equal-meter" closer to the center. Meanwhile, educated women who chose to put career aside to raise a family moved from the warmer, more homey description of their title of homemaker to the colder, rigid, linear approach of today's "domestic engineer." Even Roseanne Barr of the Roseanne show said in one of her episodes, "I hate the word housewife; I don't like the word homemaker either. I want to be called Domestic Goddess."
Today, the educated young generation of women are reaching new peaks. According to a recent CNN research report, 22% of women are now better educated than their husbands or make more money. While it is wonderful to be part of a generation that has evolved from a society that traditionally assigned women the role of money handling to that of money-making, I fear we are in the middle of a culture in which instead of moving toward the center, we are switching sides. At the risk of being gender-incorrect, I see current culture defeminizing our women and feminizing our men, or as some might prefer, masculinizing our women and demasculinizing our men. Currently, more working men than women are unemployed,* and with the rise of women determined to crack the "glass ceiling" or raise the bar further to excel at all cost even if it entails becoming romance resistant, men are filling in the shoes of domestic engineers and adapting to the reversal of gender roles with ease. There are men out there who choose to become more of a family man than more of a business man. Yet, with all the liberated idealism, this is a choice that, unfortunately, is often frowned upon by the career woman. Women,(whether because of need or desire)once again are bearing the burden--or the opportunity--of being breadwinners. Whether woman wants to be a career woman who runs the rat race and cracks the glass ceiling, or she wants to be a domestic engineer who focuses on raising a family and molding children by her values and ideals, is a rightful choice she makes. I support her choice. By the same token, if a man chooses or wishes to become the domestic engineer while the woman earns the keep, he should be able to do so without demeaning commentary from existing culture. I support the man. And perhaps in a few short years, a well educated, high salaried, well established career woman might come his way and ask for his hand as the perfect domestic engineer to form a family partnership!
Maybe it's time to reconsider the Feminist title and change it to the Equalist.
What say you?
This I humbly speak...
*Current Population Survey and Employment Statistics, Bureau of Labor Statistics published in The New York Times, Business Section, Feb.6,2009
Monday, July 19, 2010
Inception
There are movies that entertain and then there are movies that thoroughly engage and thrill you through action packed, brainy deep twists. INCEPTION, written and directed by Christopher Nolan, is one such mother of a movie.
It is a cleverly conceived maze of perceptions and ideas perfectly performed by a credible cast of characters. Leonardo DiCaprio plays a seriously credible spy who steals information by going into other people's dreams. He is on his last job. Equally captivating are Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Dileep Rao, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Marion Cotillard, Ken Watanabe,and others who are either part of the scheme infiltrating the dream to be robbed or who are being robbed.
I recommend you make all your restroom stops prior to the start of the movie because you will need to engage yourself mentally and emotionally without losing a moment's worth of dialogue. If you thought a plot within a plot is complicated, then imagine a plot that engages a dream within a dream within a dream. Mind bending, to say the least. You'll be hopping in and out of different dreams involving all the characters.
Mind bending beautiful imagery, a cleverly crafted maze of intelligent entertainment.
Did I forget to say I highly recommend you see it once, and then perhaps twice.
This I humbly speak...
It is a cleverly conceived maze of perceptions and ideas perfectly performed by a credible cast of characters. Leonardo DiCaprio plays a seriously credible spy who steals information by going into other people's dreams. He is on his last job. Equally captivating are Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Dileep Rao, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Marion Cotillard, Ken Watanabe,and others who are either part of the scheme infiltrating the dream to be robbed or who are being robbed.
I recommend you make all your restroom stops prior to the start of the movie because you will need to engage yourself mentally and emotionally without losing a moment's worth of dialogue. If you thought a plot within a plot is complicated, then imagine a plot that engages a dream within a dream within a dream. Mind bending, to say the least. You'll be hopping in and out of different dreams involving all the characters.
Mind bending beautiful imagery, a cleverly crafted maze of intelligent entertainment.
Did I forget to say I highly recommend you see it once, and then perhaps twice.
This I humbly speak...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
What Would You Do With a Million Dollars?
On my way to work, Id asked "What would you do with a million dollars? How would you spend it?"
I recall as children in elementary school,perhaps fifth or sixth grade, we were asked that similar question. It was one of those questions designed to reveal our way of thinking. What we would do with a million dollars would say a lot about the philanthropy in our hearts, our concern for the problems of the world, our concept of money and our knowledge of the cost of material things. At the time, most of the answers would reveal that the classroom had an over abundant share of philanthropists and humanitarians who would give more than 50% to charity while helping find cures for the ill, shelter for the homeless, food for the hungry, clothing for the poor, a house and/or car for our families, a trip around the world, ah yes, some games and toys for ourselves, and most of us would put money in a savings account. Once we entered high school the question of a million dollars was not asked again perhaps for fear that life values and cost of living had changed so drastically toward material gratification that the class would reveal an abundance of egoism and significant lack of philanthropists and humanitarians.
"How would you spend it?" repeated Id.
"I'm thinking," I said.
"What's there to think about? You know what you want, what you like, what you don't have, or could have, why should you think about it?"
"Because money can do a lot, and I want to make it work for me," I said with conviction.
"Spending it on what you want is making it work for you," said Id.
"That's too temporary," I said. "Remember years ago, when we were much younger, we tried spending an imaginary million dollars. We decided to spend on ourselves first, so we calculated to the dollar the price of our wants and desires. We went straight into redecorating with new furniture, new electronics, gadgets, vacation, wardrobe and still had money left over. So we decided to spend on remodeling the home, giving 5% to schools and 15% to charity, and putting aside enough for a few rainy days, with money left over for emergencies other than 'rainy days.'"
"Yeah, I remember," nodded Id with a smile that stretched from ear to ear as he delighted in the memory. "I was so excited. I clipped pictures of everything I wanted with their price tags attached...from the latest PlayStation and games to cars and bikes, we put it all on paper, our wants and desires. We really indulged in our fantasy."
"We sure did," I said as I took a short moment to bask in the memory of our indulgence. "But, that's all it was, want and desires," I said, coming back to reality. "Wants and desires fade and change. I need something more lasting and meaningful."
"Here we go again," said Id as he sighed and rolled his head in frustration. He knew where I was headed.
"Money needs to reflect who I really am and what is important to me in life," I continued.
"I know," said Id, exasperated. "For you it's people first, then money."
"Precisely. So I'll need to take care of loved ones first. It's as if by taking care of others--those to whom I gave life, those who helped me enter the world and especially those who helped and guided my passage through life--I will have responded to the higher values of my existence. Can you understand that?" I asked in earnest. "It's as if I'm giving thanks on a material level."
"Absolutely. But, you're not in fifth grade anymore. You can think differently, you know." Id nudged me. "Besides, that's a long list of people and organizations, and what if they don't need your help?" Typical Id. Always asking the "what if..?"
"Everybody needs help," I said. "Anyway, people always welcome gifts."
"Yeah, well, don't forget to throw a bone or two my way once in a while," he said with his usual humor.
I laughed. "I'll do even better than that. I'll buy a couple of dogs to go with the bones."
"You mean we'll indulge?" he asked with sarcasm.
"Yep, I have it all calculated and there still will be some left over for a few wants and desires," I chuckled.
"Aren't you missing something?" asked Id.
"What?"
"The million!?" he exclaimed.
"I thought YOU had it," I smiled.
"Would I be here if I did?" asked Id. His face looked...I don't know...unguarded.
"If you had a million, I wouldn't be here either," I whispered softly.
On my way to work...
This I humbly speak...
I recall as children in elementary school,perhaps fifth or sixth grade, we were asked that similar question. It was one of those questions designed to reveal our way of thinking. What we would do with a million dollars would say a lot about the philanthropy in our hearts, our concern for the problems of the world, our concept of money and our knowledge of the cost of material things. At the time, most of the answers would reveal that the classroom had an over abundant share of philanthropists and humanitarians who would give more than 50% to charity while helping find cures for the ill, shelter for the homeless, food for the hungry, clothing for the poor, a house and/or car for our families, a trip around the world, ah yes, some games and toys for ourselves, and most of us would put money in a savings account. Once we entered high school the question of a million dollars was not asked again perhaps for fear that life values and cost of living had changed so drastically toward material gratification that the class would reveal an abundance of egoism and significant lack of philanthropists and humanitarians.
"How would you spend it?" repeated Id.
"I'm thinking," I said.
"What's there to think about? You know what you want, what you like, what you don't have, or could have, why should you think about it?"
"Because money can do a lot, and I want to make it work for me," I said with conviction.
"Spending it on what you want is making it work for you," said Id.
"That's too temporary," I said. "Remember years ago, when we were much younger, we tried spending an imaginary million dollars. We decided to spend on ourselves first, so we calculated to the dollar the price of our wants and desires. We went straight into redecorating with new furniture, new electronics, gadgets, vacation, wardrobe and still had money left over. So we decided to spend on remodeling the home, giving 5% to schools and 15% to charity, and putting aside enough for a few rainy days, with money left over for emergencies other than 'rainy days.'"
"Yeah, I remember," nodded Id with a smile that stretched from ear to ear as he delighted in the memory. "I was so excited. I clipped pictures of everything I wanted with their price tags attached...from the latest PlayStation and games to cars and bikes, we put it all on paper, our wants and desires. We really indulged in our fantasy."
"We sure did," I said as I took a short moment to bask in the memory of our indulgence. "But, that's all it was, want and desires," I said, coming back to reality. "Wants and desires fade and change. I need something more lasting and meaningful."
"Here we go again," said Id as he sighed and rolled his head in frustration. He knew where I was headed.
"Money needs to reflect who I really am and what is important to me in life," I continued.
"I know," said Id, exasperated. "For you it's people first, then money."
"Precisely. So I'll need to take care of loved ones first. It's as if by taking care of others--those to whom I gave life, those who helped me enter the world and especially those who helped and guided my passage through life--I will have responded to the higher values of my existence. Can you understand that?" I asked in earnest. "It's as if I'm giving thanks on a material level."
"Absolutely. But, you're not in fifth grade anymore. You can think differently, you know." Id nudged me. "Besides, that's a long list of people and organizations, and what if they don't need your help?" Typical Id. Always asking the "what if..?"
"Everybody needs help," I said. "Anyway, people always welcome gifts."
"Yeah, well, don't forget to throw a bone or two my way once in a while," he said with his usual humor.
I laughed. "I'll do even better than that. I'll buy a couple of dogs to go with the bones."
"You mean we'll indulge?" he asked with sarcasm.
"Yep, I have it all calculated and there still will be some left over for a few wants and desires," I chuckled.
"Aren't you missing something?" asked Id.
"What?"
"The million!?" he exclaimed.
"I thought YOU had it," I smiled.
"Would I be here if I did?" asked Id. His face looked...I don't know...unguarded.
"If you had a million, I wouldn't be here either," I whispered softly.
On my way to work...
This I humbly speak...
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Freedom
"No one is free when others are oppressed."
(Author unknown)
"Freedom is the best gift given to man. It lives in the heart, the actions and deeds of man, and it must be practiced daily to keep it alive so man can maintain his right to own it." (Silver Lining)
This I humbly speak....
(Author unknown)
"Freedom is the best gift given to man. It lives in the heart, the actions and deeds of man, and it must be practiced daily to keep it alive so man can maintain his right to own it." (Silver Lining)
This I humbly speak....
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Mathematics Is an Art
"Mathematicians are born, not made." I quote Jules Henri Poincare, one of the last universal mathematicians whose words I can attest to because I was not born with a natural understanding of mathematics. My strength lies in language. This past week, I attended a graduation at the University of Waterloo in Ontario, Canada. I witnessed over 500 young women and men earn their bachelor, master and doctoral degree in some aspect of math or computing. I say some aspect because math exists at different levels, just as the English language ranges from primary to higher syntax of poetry. We all learn elementary math; a small number of us study higher math and an even smaller number become the thought behind a new equation; in other words, those few become what mathematicians oddly enough tend to compare themselves to, "the poets of their profession."
This past week, I spent time among these "poets." I learned that mathematics is the purest form of thought, and though we often think of mathematicians in the image of the absent minded professor, a nerd, or someone submerged in a solitary world, they are indeed expressive, interactive and emotional people who are fond of music. Of course, just because mathematicians are fond of music doesn't mean that all musicians are fond of mathematics. (Did I just put an algebraic equation into words?) Mathematicians seem to approach life in its simplest and purest form...where external factors are removed. They perceive beauty and harmony in the relationship between objects and elements, and the external world becomes non-existent. Jules Henri Poincare had a great reverence toward beauty of life but was quick to define beauty as..."that profounder beauty which comes from the harmonious order of the parts, and which a pure intelligence can grasp."
The air that day among the 500 and some graduates and professors carried a childlike innocence, resonating with sounds of harmonious pleasure, delighted at the gathering of creative minds. There were graduates from all fields of math... Real Math, Applied Math, Absolute Math, Algebra, Celestial Math, Calculus, Computer, Discrete Math, Experimental Math, Geometry, Game theory, Information theory, Optimization, Recreational Math, Probability and Statistics, Quantitative Math, Topology, Mnemonics, and...need I say more? Math is in every aspect of our lives.
Until this last week, mathematics was an enigma characterised by the impression of numbers and calculations and tables taught at school. I used to think it was strictly rational, abstract, cold and soulless. I stand corrected. Though I am not born a mathematician and know that I cannot be made one, I now appreciate that mathematics, in a way, is as much an art as it is a science.
"A real mathematician has to have the soul of a poet." (Mathematician Karl Weierstrass)
FYI, the person near and dear to my heart whose graduation I attended is a beautiful young woman who literally is a poet of her profession.
This I humbly speak.
This past week, I spent time among these "poets." I learned that mathematics is the purest form of thought, and though we often think of mathematicians in the image of the absent minded professor, a nerd, or someone submerged in a solitary world, they are indeed expressive, interactive and emotional people who are fond of music. Of course, just because mathematicians are fond of music doesn't mean that all musicians are fond of mathematics. (Did I just put an algebraic equation into words?) Mathematicians seem to approach life in its simplest and purest form...where external factors are removed. They perceive beauty and harmony in the relationship between objects and elements, and the external world becomes non-existent. Jules Henri Poincare had a great reverence toward beauty of life but was quick to define beauty as..."that profounder beauty which comes from the harmonious order of the parts, and which a pure intelligence can grasp."
The air that day among the 500 and some graduates and professors carried a childlike innocence, resonating with sounds of harmonious pleasure, delighted at the gathering of creative minds. There were graduates from all fields of math... Real Math, Applied Math, Absolute Math, Algebra, Celestial Math, Calculus, Computer, Discrete Math, Experimental Math, Geometry, Game theory, Information theory, Optimization, Recreational Math, Probability and Statistics, Quantitative Math, Topology, Mnemonics, and...need I say more? Math is in every aspect of our lives.
Until this last week, mathematics was an enigma characterised by the impression of numbers and calculations and tables taught at school. I used to think it was strictly rational, abstract, cold and soulless. I stand corrected. Though I am not born a mathematician and know that I cannot be made one, I now appreciate that mathematics, in a way, is as much an art as it is a science.
"A real mathematician has to have the soul of a poet." (Mathematician Karl Weierstrass)
FYI, the person near and dear to my heart whose graduation I attended is a beautiful young woman who literally is a poet of her profession.
This I humbly speak.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Praise the Man
Much is said of the woman who works hard in and out of the home. Much is said of the woman who strives for equality in the work force and whose monetary reward earned, or lack thereof, becomes the measure of her equality. (Another subject altogether to be left for another day.) Much is said of the working woman. But what of the working man? I think he deserves mention.
I admire the working man of today. He has stepped in to take on some of the responsibilities that woman has worked hard to shed off her shoulders in the process of attempting to lose the title of homemaker. Man now helps with the budgeting, planning meals, shopping, cooking, laundry, washing, getting children ready for school, taking them to school, bathing and dressing them, feeding them, reading to them, playing with them, putting them to bed, fixing things, entertaining guests, and, often solves a problem without bitching and moaning. Man is a problem solver. He is brought up to be one. He finds a solution and he goes straight to it, regardless of whether it is what you want. He is pragmatic and solves your problem with a simple "you should..."
I appreciate the working man of today. He takes responsibility for his actions. He doesn't make excuses. He is, afterall, brought up to be the designated risk-taker even if the risk is emotional. Is not man the one who takes the ultimate emotional risk when, not knowing the outcome, he makes the first move by asking "Will you marry me?"?
I value the working man of today. He suppresses his sense of isolation when women or daughters are recognized as caregivers to parents even though in 2004, the NAC/AARP found 40% of all caregivers to be men. And though man is often made to feel less needed by the modern woman's lack of regard for his masculinity by seeking to be a single parent, he is still the first to rush women and children out of burning buildings, put them in lifeboats first and help navigate them through high waters.
I praise the working man of today. He is still chivalrous despite being "scolded" for his lack of sensitivity toward his "equal" counter-gender. Next time a car breaks down, chances are, it's a man whose going to stop and offer to help. Carrying something heavy? Chances are a man is going to offer his help with it.
I like the working man of today. He is as educated as his female equal. He holds a full time job. He takes on the homemaker responsibilities with pleasure and enjoys time with his children. He is responsible and takes over what once was the predominantly female role of caregiver. He is not as emotionally shut down as once thought he was, and he does not bitch and moan. He is helpful off-road and in house. He is chivalrous; and if his upbringing to protect and shelter has not been altered, he will do so with blind faith for his family, his spouse and child. Praise the man, for he is found in your father, your brother, your husband, and your son. Praise the man.
This I humbly speak...
I admire the working man of today. He has stepped in to take on some of the responsibilities that woman has worked hard to shed off her shoulders in the process of attempting to lose the title of homemaker. Man now helps with the budgeting, planning meals, shopping, cooking, laundry, washing, getting children ready for school, taking them to school, bathing and dressing them, feeding them, reading to them, playing with them, putting them to bed, fixing things, entertaining guests, and, often solves a problem without bitching and moaning. Man is a problem solver. He is brought up to be one. He finds a solution and he goes straight to it, regardless of whether it is what you want. He is pragmatic and solves your problem with a simple "you should..."
I appreciate the working man of today. He takes responsibility for his actions. He doesn't make excuses. He is, afterall, brought up to be the designated risk-taker even if the risk is emotional. Is not man the one who takes the ultimate emotional risk when, not knowing the outcome, he makes the first move by asking "Will you marry me?"?
I value the working man of today. He suppresses his sense of isolation when women or daughters are recognized as caregivers to parents even though in 2004, the NAC/AARP found 40% of all caregivers to be men. And though man is often made to feel less needed by the modern woman's lack of regard for his masculinity by seeking to be a single parent, he is still the first to rush women and children out of burning buildings, put them in lifeboats first and help navigate them through high waters.
I praise the working man of today. He is still chivalrous despite being "scolded" for his lack of sensitivity toward his "equal" counter-gender. Next time a car breaks down, chances are, it's a man whose going to stop and offer to help. Carrying something heavy? Chances are a man is going to offer his help with it.
I like the working man of today. He is as educated as his female equal. He holds a full time job. He takes on the homemaker responsibilities with pleasure and enjoys time with his children. He is responsible and takes over what once was the predominantly female role of caregiver. He is not as emotionally shut down as once thought he was, and he does not bitch and moan. He is helpful off-road and in house. He is chivalrous; and if his upbringing to protect and shelter has not been altered, he will do so with blind faith for his family, his spouse and child. Praise the man, for he is found in your father, your brother, your husband, and your son. Praise the man.
This I humbly speak...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Celebrate the Graduate
Thirty some years ago I stood behind a podium and presented the valedictorian address to the graduating class of a small private college in the city of La Verne, California, known as the University of La Verne. Now, as I recall the "speech," I come to realize that the message then was rooted in dreams and passions of making the world a better place. Not much has changed today. We celebrate our graduates at the threshold of their lives and give them the same weight of responsibility to become extraordinary citizens of humanity, to serve mankind and to leave the world better than they found it.
Today, I celebrate the graduate. I ask that you keep an open mind and recognize the wisdom revealed by life as a crucial catalyst to your education. The process of learning is life long. I recall a few years back when I saw my father look through TIME magazine, intrigued by news and science articles highlighted on the cover. He scanned the articles, shook his head as he put aside the magazine with a forlorn smile and said, "So much more to read, so much more to learn, yet so little time." My father was 93.
Most of you will choose to seek further studies and attain higher grounds. You will be challenged, you will compete and you will perform with professionalism achieving the highest points of your desires. As important as your obligations are as doctors, scientists, lawyers, business leaders, athletes, educators, remember that you are human beings first and your human connections, parents, family, spouses, children, friends are the most important investments you will make. Do not fall prey to becoming victims of your lives. Become the heroes.
Find humor in your lives. Take time to laugh with your human connections. Your view of the world will become more realistic. You will become less egocentric and more humble when you reach that "AHA" moment, the moment of success. But more importantly, humor will make you feel less defeated in times of trouble, because inevitably, you will meet failure, you will meet disappointment. And when you have to face the dilemmas of good and evil, and are lost in the delicate shadings between the two, remember your purpose, remember this day, the day when classmates, family, faculty and friends celebrated you as a graduate and entrusted you with the future. Surround yourself with those human connections who will remind you of your beauty when you feel ugly; who will believe in your innocence when you feel guilty; who will make you whole again when you feel crushed; and who will set you on the right path when you feel you have strayed.
Education is a life long process. And in the process do not neglect to pay your debts owed for your existence. Remember that the higher your achievement in the measure of your success, the greater your debt to the past. Do not let it be said of you what Voltaire the French poet said of one of Louis XIV ministers that "this man is guilty of all the good he did not do." Pay your debts of the past through deeds of love and service. Root your lives in justice, compassion and humility and listen to the voice of your heart's knowledge even when nobody else is looking.
Think all this, do all this with a strong faith in humanity, and you will have done an extraordinary task in a world that will be a better place.
Congratulations, Graduate!
This I humbly speak ...
Today, I celebrate the graduate. I ask that you keep an open mind and recognize the wisdom revealed by life as a crucial catalyst to your education. The process of learning is life long. I recall a few years back when I saw my father look through TIME magazine, intrigued by news and science articles highlighted on the cover. He scanned the articles, shook his head as he put aside the magazine with a forlorn smile and said, "So much more to read, so much more to learn, yet so little time." My father was 93.
Most of you will choose to seek further studies and attain higher grounds. You will be challenged, you will compete and you will perform with professionalism achieving the highest points of your desires. As important as your obligations are as doctors, scientists, lawyers, business leaders, athletes, educators, remember that you are human beings first and your human connections, parents, family, spouses, children, friends are the most important investments you will make. Do not fall prey to becoming victims of your lives. Become the heroes.
Find humor in your lives. Take time to laugh with your human connections. Your view of the world will become more realistic. You will become less egocentric and more humble when you reach that "AHA" moment, the moment of success. But more importantly, humor will make you feel less defeated in times of trouble, because inevitably, you will meet failure, you will meet disappointment. And when you have to face the dilemmas of good and evil, and are lost in the delicate shadings between the two, remember your purpose, remember this day, the day when classmates, family, faculty and friends celebrated you as a graduate and entrusted you with the future. Surround yourself with those human connections who will remind you of your beauty when you feel ugly; who will believe in your innocence when you feel guilty; who will make you whole again when you feel crushed; and who will set you on the right path when you feel you have strayed.
Education is a life long process. And in the process do not neglect to pay your debts owed for your existence. Remember that the higher your achievement in the measure of your success, the greater your debt to the past. Do not let it be said of you what Voltaire the French poet said of one of Louis XIV ministers that "this man is guilty of all the good he did not do." Pay your debts of the past through deeds of love and service. Root your lives in justice, compassion and humility and listen to the voice of your heart's knowledge even when nobody else is looking.
Think all this, do all this with a strong faith in humanity, and you will have done an extraordinary task in a world that will be a better place.
Congratulations, Graduate!
This I humbly speak ...
Thursday, May 27, 2010
I Am A Citizen
I am a citizen of a nation of laws. I am a naturalized citizen and as one who came here because of parents who believed that a better and more secure life would be available to their children, I am sympathetic toward all those who sacrifice much and come to the States with the same ideals in mind for their families. I know what courage it takes to leave your life behind to follow a dream. I am sympathetic toward the plight of parents who send their youth to study or work in a country because they believe in a nation that instills a sense of belonging by respecting individuals of all race, sex, color, creed and origin, whether deprived of human dignity or abundantly blessed. My grandparents did it. My parents did it. I did it. Many of you did it.
America is a nation of laws. When the laws (Amendments) were written, there was no law about illegals and there definitely was no question or doubt as to one's allegiance to the country. It was a given. The 14th Amendment makes it clear that a child born in the United States is granted U.S. citizenship except if born to parents who are both foreign, illegal, alien, tourist, etc. I am unsympathetic toward those who do not abide by the law. I am unsympathetic toward those who come to this country, who take for granted the privileges offered them (such as freedom to strike/boycott, to voice their opinion in public forums, to be catered to in their native tongue, to become educated through high school and then college) at the expense of the law abiding citizen. This is a country that shares such and many other privileges with legals (citizens) and aliens (illegals) alike with no questions asked. I am unsympathetic toward those who benefit from these privileges and yet create ruckus and furor over government which is trying to find solutions for its citizens whose rights and privileges are being exploited. I am unsympathetic toward those, regardless of race, color, sex, creed or origin who do not respect the laws of the country that feeds their families, that educates their children, that promotes humanitarian values and tolerates the practice of ones own ethnic and cultural traditions.
I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am sympathetic toward the laws of this nation.
This I humbly speak.
America is a nation of laws. When the laws (Amendments) were written, there was no law about illegals and there definitely was no question or doubt as to one's allegiance to the country. It was a given. The 14th Amendment makes it clear that a child born in the United States is granted U.S. citizenship except if born to parents who are both foreign, illegal, alien, tourist, etc. I am unsympathetic toward those who do not abide by the law. I am unsympathetic toward those who come to this country, who take for granted the privileges offered them (such as freedom to strike/boycott, to voice their opinion in public forums, to be catered to in their native tongue, to become educated through high school and then college) at the expense of the law abiding citizen. This is a country that shares such and many other privileges with legals (citizens) and aliens (illegals) alike with no questions asked. I am unsympathetic toward those who benefit from these privileges and yet create ruckus and furor over government which is trying to find solutions for its citizens whose rights and privileges are being exploited. I am unsympathetic toward those, regardless of race, color, sex, creed or origin who do not respect the laws of the country that feeds their families, that educates their children, that promotes humanitarian values and tolerates the practice of ones own ethnic and cultural traditions.
I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am sympathetic toward the laws of this nation.
This I humbly speak.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Freedom of Soul
I was rushed. I was driving between errands.
"Why do I have to comply all the time?" asked my Soul. "I am my own spirit. I have my own life. I want to be free."
"You are free," I said, somewhat taken aback by her forwardness.
"No, I'm not. You haven't given me the green light to do whatever I want," she said.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want to be free to do whatever I want, if ever I want and whenever I want."
"What's stopping you?" I said over my shoulder.
"You. You're stopping me. You're holding me back. "
"When? When have I held you back? And how am I holding you back?" I was getting defensive. "Don't I always tell you to 'do whatever you want... the opportunities are endless?'" I reminded her, and with a silly grin, I recalled an old nursery rhyme. "Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, doctor, dentist, actor, lawyer, rich man, poor man, beggar man, but NO thief." I laughed.
"You know that's not what I'm talking about," she said seriously. "I'm talking about guilt. I'm talking about feeling obligated that I have to comply to make YOU happy. " She was serious. Then she whispered softly, "I don't want to let you down."
My poor Soul. Her gentle spirit was troubled by an inner conflict. It was not so much what she was doing but what she was being that troubled her. I pulled over to the side of the road. This needed my full attention.
"Listen," I said. "Your freedom to be whoever and however it is you want to be...happy, sad, good, bad, weak, strong, caring, uncaring, friendly, distant, cheerful, grumpy, joyful, resentful.... is a choice you make as you develop yourself. Within you is an inalienable right to be free from coercion. I have no doubt that within you is the capacity to reach for the best that's for your own good."
"Yeah, but why do I feel guilty doing something that I know you may not approve?" She was still struggling with her conflicting emotions.
"Guilt is not a bad thing," I said. "Guilt is a learned response. It is the scale that measures your conscience against what you have been taught as 'should' or 'should not' do. If used as just that, guilt is not a bad thing. But more importantly, there is no should or should not. There is only your freedom to choose."
"And you, what about you? Do I ignore you completely if I am free?"
"If you choose to, you can. I am only the provider of tools with which you can seek your journey, have your conversations and ask all your questions in pursuit of your happiness. My joy is in your freedom. I am here to protect that freedom and 'enforce' the laws that will guard it. "
"You know, you're preachy," she said, very matter-of-fact.
"You had it coming," I said.
My Soul. She is of me and through me, yet she's entirely her own. I can only house her, nurture her with my best thoughts, cultivate her own source of joy and guide her through her journey to enlightenment. Our dialogues serve to remind me that she is my scale of conscience. My Soul doesn't know it yet, but of the two of us, she will be the stronger.
"Don't we have somewhere to be?" My Soul broke the silence.
I had to clear my throat before I spoke. "Not any more, we don't."
"Good! Let's just sit today out," she said.
"Your choice," I said.
"Ah, I like the taste of my freedom!" she said with a twinkle.
"So do I," I said. "So do I."
"Why do I have to comply all the time?" asked my Soul. "I am my own spirit. I have my own life. I want to be free."
"You are free," I said, somewhat taken aback by her forwardness.
"No, I'm not. You haven't given me the green light to do whatever I want," she said.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want to be free to do whatever I want, if ever I want and whenever I want."
"What's stopping you?" I said over my shoulder.
"You. You're stopping me. You're holding me back. "
"When? When have I held you back? And how am I holding you back?" I was getting defensive. "Don't I always tell you to 'do whatever you want... the opportunities are endless?'" I reminded her, and with a silly grin, I recalled an old nursery rhyme. "Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, doctor, dentist, actor, lawyer, rich man, poor man, beggar man, but NO thief." I laughed.
"You know that's not what I'm talking about," she said seriously. "I'm talking about guilt. I'm talking about feeling obligated that I have to comply to make YOU happy. " She was serious. Then she whispered softly, "I don't want to let you down."
My poor Soul. Her gentle spirit was troubled by an inner conflict. It was not so much what she was doing but what she was being that troubled her. I pulled over to the side of the road. This needed my full attention.
"Listen," I said. "Your freedom to be whoever and however it is you want to be...happy, sad, good, bad, weak, strong, caring, uncaring, friendly, distant, cheerful, grumpy, joyful, resentful.... is a choice you make as you develop yourself. Within you is an inalienable right to be free from coercion. I have no doubt that within you is the capacity to reach for the best that's for your own good."
"Yeah, but why do I feel guilty doing something that I know you may not approve?" She was still struggling with her conflicting emotions.
"Guilt is not a bad thing," I said. "Guilt is a learned response. It is the scale that measures your conscience against what you have been taught as 'should' or 'should not' do. If used as just that, guilt is not a bad thing. But more importantly, there is no should or should not. There is only your freedom to choose."
"And you, what about you? Do I ignore you completely if I am free?"
"If you choose to, you can. I am only the provider of tools with which you can seek your journey, have your conversations and ask all your questions in pursuit of your happiness. My joy is in your freedom. I am here to protect that freedom and 'enforce' the laws that will guard it. "
"You know, you're preachy," she said, very matter-of-fact.
"You had it coming," I said.
My Soul. She is of me and through me, yet she's entirely her own. I can only house her, nurture her with my best thoughts, cultivate her own source of joy and guide her through her journey to enlightenment. Our dialogues serve to remind me that she is my scale of conscience. My Soul doesn't know it yet, but of the two of us, she will be the stronger.
"Don't we have somewhere to be?" My Soul broke the silence.
I had to clear my throat before I spoke. "Not any more, we don't."
"Good! Let's just sit today out," she said.
"Your choice," I said.
"Ah, I like the taste of my freedom!" she said with a twinkle.
"So do I," I said. "So do I."
This I humbly speak...with freedom
Friday, May 21, 2010
My Own Day, Everyday
The timer on my outdoor lights was off. The lights came on too early in the afternoon and with the longer days of spring and summer, they needed to be set forward. Today, I did just that.
As I punched the numbers to move the clock forward, I thought what if I really could move my personal clock and skip a day or two, or even better, rewind my life by a day or two or three? Or what if I stopped the clock of my life at this perfect moment? I started to consider the options.
If I stopped the clock now, the day belonged to me. The beauty of the blue sky was mine. The sun with its first shower of light glimmering through the branches of the olive tree was mine. The sparrows nesting above my front door. All the birds in the trees. Even the neighbor's cat stretched out on their front porch was mine. It was such an exhilarating moment. I considered stopping the world right there and making today go on forever. But then again, I love life. How would I know what I'd be missing tomorrow, or the day after if today was forever?
Next, I considered the option of rewinding my life. Certainly, the course of my life would be different if given the chance to apply all that I know now, to my life the way it was then. As tempting as it was, if I couldn't do things perfectly the first time around, would I be able to do it right the second time? Or would I need a third time and a fourth? The more I thought about it, the more I rejected the idea. I am not one for perfection when it comes to the process of life. It's not my style. Remember, I'm the one who refused to go to a wedding rehearsal because "life is not a written script," I said. As tempted as I was at the thought of being able to "right" the "wrongs" of some of the things that I did, and as much as I may want to get a chance to "right" the "wrongs", everything that has happened in my life from events to people brings me to the place where I am right now. The events and choices I have made are woven together into a tapestry of intricate pattern that is my life. Assuming my life is a tapestry from start to finish, then like all stitchery, I have a wrong and a right side. If I turn the tapestry of my life thus far over to the "wrong" side, to the back where all the knots and adjoining threads are hidden, I see the beauty of redemption...a gradual decline of mixed up and messier threads as the tapestry of my life progresses over the years. The design on the back side is slowly becoming less messy and perhaps over time, the beauty of those random pieces of thread that work together will resemble the unique pieces of stitchery that, unless looked under extreme scrutiny, appear the same front and back. Nothing less than beautiful!
I finally got the clock right on the outdoor lights. I walked under the sparrows' nest and through my front door and entered into real time. Today, like everyday is a new day. It is a day to do things right, make good choices and decide wisely. It is a day to live with joy. Everyday, without turning back time, I have the opportunity to clean my slate and make it count.
The next 24 hours was mine.
This I humbly speak.
As I punched the numbers to move the clock forward, I thought what if I really could move my personal clock and skip a day or two, or even better, rewind my life by a day or two or three? Or what if I stopped the clock of my life at this perfect moment? I started to consider the options.
If I stopped the clock now, the day belonged to me. The beauty of the blue sky was mine. The sun with its first shower of light glimmering through the branches of the olive tree was mine. The sparrows nesting above my front door. All the birds in the trees. Even the neighbor's cat stretched out on their front porch was mine. It was such an exhilarating moment. I considered stopping the world right there and making today go on forever. But then again, I love life. How would I know what I'd be missing tomorrow, or the day after if today was forever?
Next, I considered the option of rewinding my life. Certainly, the course of my life would be different if given the chance to apply all that I know now, to my life the way it was then. As tempting as it was, if I couldn't do things perfectly the first time around, would I be able to do it right the second time? Or would I need a third time and a fourth? The more I thought about it, the more I rejected the idea. I am not one for perfection when it comes to the process of life. It's not my style. Remember, I'm the one who refused to go to a wedding rehearsal because "life is not a written script," I said. As tempted as I was at the thought of being able to "right" the "wrongs" of some of the things that I did, and as much as I may want to get a chance to "right" the "wrongs", everything that has happened in my life from events to people brings me to the place where I am right now. The events and choices I have made are woven together into a tapestry of intricate pattern that is my life. Assuming my life is a tapestry from start to finish, then like all stitchery, I have a wrong and a right side. If I turn the tapestry of my life thus far over to the "wrong" side, to the back where all the knots and adjoining threads are hidden, I see the beauty of redemption...a gradual decline of mixed up and messier threads as the tapestry of my life progresses over the years. The design on the back side is slowly becoming less messy and perhaps over time, the beauty of those random pieces of thread that work together will resemble the unique pieces of stitchery that, unless looked under extreme scrutiny, appear the same front and back. Nothing less than beautiful!
I finally got the clock right on the outdoor lights. I walked under the sparrows' nest and through my front door and entered into real time. Today, like everyday is a new day. It is a day to do things right, make good choices and decide wisely. It is a day to live with joy. Everyday, without turning back time, I have the opportunity to clean my slate and make it count.
The next 24 hours was mine.
This I humbly speak.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Meet My Id
Id and I were in the midst of an argument. I had said "be grateful, feel blessed, things happen for a reason," and that triggered the point of no return. We'd come too far to stop now.
"There is no reason, no 'look on the bright side' argument to this," said Id. "Things happen. You're either lucky or unlucky. Stop looking for a 'goodness' reason in all things. Accidents happen because they happen."
For a moment, I had a flashback to a favorite line from the movie "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World," where Mrs. Marcus says with a know-it-all attitude "...These things happen? They only happen because this whole country is full of people who, when these things happen, they just say these things happen, and that's why they happen." That's it. Period. End of argument. Maybe for Id, it was the end of argument, but not for me.
"Yes, accidents happen because certain factors in the process of life come together at that particular moment in that particular way resulting in a particular outcome which you wish to call unfortunate. It may not be unfortunate unless you wish to make it unfortunate." I had to speak.
"Do you mean to tell me I am creating my own misfortune?" asked Id.
"In a way, yes," I said softly. I had to be gentle. My Id, much like me, is passionate about life. But we differ, my Id and I. " If you see yourself as the victim of a situation, then that's what you are. See yourself as being in that situation because you choose to be, and soon you'll see that life proceeds from your intentions for it. Life is a process of elements and factors, and the result of your thoughts about it, positive or negative, is a choice you make," I repeated.
"So, let me get this straight. I'm standing in a crowd watching a parade and a bird flying overhead drops a load and out of all the hundreds in the crowd, the crap lands on my head, and you're telling me I'm supposed to look on the bright side and be grateful because lucky me, there's got to be a good reason behind this because I just got crapped on!?" Id was mocking me.
"Precisely!" I beamed, ignoring his sarcasm. "Out of all the hundreds in the crowd, what are the chances that the bird would land a load on you!! How lucky you must be to be singled out. Imagine if that had been a gold coin that fell from the sky. Would you have considered it fortunate or unfortunate? So the point is to accept these things as a process of life, as a small piece of a larger mosaic and your struggles of fortunate and unfortunate will cease." I stood my ground.
"Accidents happen," Id mumbled.
"Yeah, but nothing happens by accident," I chuckled.
"There is no reason, no 'look on the bright side' argument to this," said Id. "Things happen. You're either lucky or unlucky. Stop looking for a 'goodness' reason in all things. Accidents happen because they happen."
For a moment, I had a flashback to a favorite line from the movie "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World," where Mrs. Marcus says with a know-it-all attitude "...These things happen? They only happen because this whole country is full of people who, when these things happen, they just say these things happen, and that's why they happen." That's it. Period. End of argument. Maybe for Id, it was the end of argument, but not for me.
"Yes, accidents happen because certain factors in the process of life come together at that particular moment in that particular way resulting in a particular outcome which you wish to call unfortunate. It may not be unfortunate unless you wish to make it unfortunate." I had to speak.
"Do you mean to tell me I am creating my own misfortune?" asked Id.
"In a way, yes," I said softly. I had to be gentle. My Id, much like me, is passionate about life. But we differ, my Id and I. " If you see yourself as the victim of a situation, then that's what you are. See yourself as being in that situation because you choose to be, and soon you'll see that life proceeds from your intentions for it. Life is a process of elements and factors, and the result of your thoughts about it, positive or negative, is a choice you make," I repeated.
"So, let me get this straight. I'm standing in a crowd watching a parade and a bird flying overhead drops a load and out of all the hundreds in the crowd, the crap lands on my head, and you're telling me I'm supposed to look on the bright side and be grateful because lucky me, there's got to be a good reason behind this because I just got crapped on!?" Id was mocking me.
"Precisely!" I beamed, ignoring his sarcasm. "Out of all the hundreds in the crowd, what are the chances that the bird would land a load on you!! How lucky you must be to be singled out. Imagine if that had been a gold coin that fell from the sky. Would you have considered it fortunate or unfortunate? So the point is to accept these things as a process of life, as a small piece of a larger mosaic and your struggles of fortunate and unfortunate will cease." I stood my ground.
"Accidents happen," Id mumbled.
"Yeah, but nothing happens by accident," I chuckled.
This I humbly speak.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Poetic Passion
"I'd rather spend one moment with you in the presence of God than a lifetime of being alone with wisdom." (Words of a Greek song heard at a concert)
Since God and wisdom are one and the same, in plain English " 'tis better to have loved for one moment than to not have loved at all."
Sounds better in Greek, don't you think?
Ah, the poetic passion of Greeks!
Seems the country is also bearing the brunt of their passion, be it through corruption of government or the unrealized expectations of the people.
This I humbly speak.
Since God and wisdom are one and the same, in plain English " 'tis better to have loved for one moment than to not have loved at all."
Sounds better in Greek, don't you think?
Ah, the poetic passion of Greeks!
Seems the country is also bearing the brunt of their passion, be it through corruption of government or the unrealized expectations of the people.
This I humbly speak.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
What is Love?
The room was noisy, the atmosphere cheerful and appetites were starved for want of food set before the delegates at the dinner buffet. The event was an end to a busy day of meeting of the minds of ladies, bishops and clergy representing their parishes.
"What is love?" asked the bishop at the dinner table. "How would you describe it?"
Ordinarily, such a universal question would create a quick and impulsive response from all genders and ages. But this was not an ordinary table. Seated was the bishop, priests, women, married with children and without, a single young girl, a young man and I.
"Love is that feeling of need, an unquenchable want for something that cannot be attained," said 'C'.
"In other words," said 'E', "unrequited love. "
"That's not unrequited love," said 'B'. "That's lust. Lust and desire, they hold on, they clutch what you have."
"Much like conditional love," said 'A'.
"Yes," said 'E'. "Conditional love is based on fear. True love cannot have conditions attached.For example, take the unconditional love of a mother toward her child."
"Uh-huh," chimed 'D'. "Love doesn't constrict. Love lets go. It shares, it soothes, it comforts."
"True," said the bishop. "So let me rephrase the question. What is perfect love?"
"Love is perfection of goodness and understanding and mercy and compassion," said 'F'.
"Love can be blind," said 'A', "and yet be perfect in the eyes of the beholder."
"How can it be perfect when blinded by love creates a false reality about whom you love and why you love?" asked 'B'.
"Love encompasses awe, mysticism." This from 'F'.
"That's stricken or smitten by love and not true and perfect love," responded 'B'.
"Love," said the bishop, "in its perfection, engages mind, body and soul in unity. It requires wisdom."
"But youth doesn't wait or know wisdom. Youth gather knowledge, pass through experiences, cherish hopes which as a rule can only later be fulfilled. So they're at a disadvantage, given your explanation," said 'C'.
"Perhaps, yes. But it's not to say that those experiences do not lend to the 'I' in you. They lend to find your bearings as an 'I' and the life of your entire being, mind, body and soul, is constantly enriched as you gain wisdom," explained 'D'.
"The older we grow, the more we begin to love the wisdom revealed by life. The more love of life wisdom increases, egoism and expectation of gaining something from our wisdom decreases, " said the bishop.
I smiled. It was my turn.
"It is the sum total. The everything. The Alpha and the Omega," said 'I'. "Love is the ultimate in selflessness of mind, body and soul."
This I humbly speak from my heart.
"What is love?" asked the bishop at the dinner table. "How would you describe it?"
Ordinarily, such a universal question would create a quick and impulsive response from all genders and ages. But this was not an ordinary table. Seated was the bishop, priests, women, married with children and without, a single young girl, a young man and I.
"Love is that feeling of need, an unquenchable want for something that cannot be attained," said 'C'.
"In other words," said 'E', "unrequited love. "
"That's not unrequited love," said 'B'. "That's lust. Lust and desire, they hold on, they clutch what you have."
"Much like conditional love," said 'A'.
"Yes," said 'E'. "Conditional love is based on fear. True love cannot have conditions attached.For example, take the unconditional love of a mother toward her child."
"Uh-huh," chimed 'D'. "Love doesn't constrict. Love lets go. It shares, it soothes, it comforts."
"True," said the bishop. "So let me rephrase the question. What is perfect love?"
"Love is perfection of goodness and understanding and mercy and compassion," said 'F'.
"Love can be blind," said 'A', "and yet be perfect in the eyes of the beholder."
"How can it be perfect when blinded by love creates a false reality about whom you love and why you love?" asked 'B'.
"Love encompasses awe, mysticism." This from 'F'.
"That's stricken or smitten by love and not true and perfect love," responded 'B'.
"Love," said the bishop, "in its perfection, engages mind, body and soul in unity. It requires wisdom."
"But youth doesn't wait or know wisdom. Youth gather knowledge, pass through experiences, cherish hopes which as a rule can only later be fulfilled. So they're at a disadvantage, given your explanation," said 'C'.
"Perhaps, yes. But it's not to say that those experiences do not lend to the 'I' in you. They lend to find your bearings as an 'I' and the life of your entire being, mind, body and soul, is constantly enriched as you gain wisdom," explained 'D'.
"The older we grow, the more we begin to love the wisdom revealed by life. The more love of life wisdom increases, egoism and expectation of gaining something from our wisdom decreases, " said the bishop.
I smiled. It was my turn.
"It is the sum total. The everything. The Alpha and the Omega," said 'I'. "Love is the ultimate in selflessness of mind, body and soul."
This I humbly speak from my heart.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Meet my Soul
"I know what you're saying, " I said, "but I believe that..."
"Ok. Stop right there," said my Soul. "We can't go on with this conversation."
"Why?" I asked her.
"Because you said 'I believe,' and when you use the word 'believe,' you speak with such firm conviction it leaves no room for an exchange of ideas. Belief is beyond reproach. It digs deeply inside oneself to discern what one truly commits to."
"Then how am I supposed to express my opinion or thoughts on the subject?"
"Just like that...give your opinion. Your opinion is open to discussion because it is created on the basis of accumulated knowledge. Your belief, on the other hand, is your credo, and your credo is based on a conviction of faith. It manifests as the ultimate reality. How do you think wars were started? " she continued.
"Because of MY belief?" I asked in disbelief.
"No, not yours, but of beliefs of unshakable faith. Belief is founded in religion. Unshakable. Belief is rooted in faith, and faith almost always implies certitude even when there is no evidence or proof. So how can I have a converstaion with you when you state 'I believe?' You allow me no room for an intellectual exchange that could lend credence to either side of the conversation." She pouts.
My Soul is young. Do I tell her that religion is NOT about believing things? Do I tell her that religion is about behaving differently instead of deciding whether you believe in God or an ultimate deity? Do I tell her that the cause of our present woes is not religious but political, due in fact to religious illiteracy? I decide to let it be. Besides, I wasn't going to take a chance at starting a war!
So , this I humbly speak...... with faith.
"Ok. Stop right there," said my Soul. "We can't go on with this conversation."
"Why?" I asked her.
"Because you said 'I believe,' and when you use the word 'believe,' you speak with such firm conviction it leaves no room for an exchange of ideas. Belief is beyond reproach. It digs deeply inside oneself to discern what one truly commits to."
"Then how am I supposed to express my opinion or thoughts on the subject?"
"Just like that...give your opinion. Your opinion is open to discussion because it is created on the basis of accumulated knowledge. Your belief, on the other hand, is your credo, and your credo is based on a conviction of faith. It manifests as the ultimate reality. How do you think wars were started? " she continued.
"Because of MY belief?" I asked in disbelief.
"No, not yours, but of beliefs of unshakable faith. Belief is founded in religion. Unshakable. Belief is rooted in faith, and faith almost always implies certitude even when there is no evidence or proof. So how can I have a converstaion with you when you state 'I believe?' You allow me no room for an intellectual exchange that could lend credence to either side of the conversation." She pouts.
My Soul is young. Do I tell her that religion is NOT about believing things? Do I tell her that religion is about behaving differently instead of deciding whether you believe in God or an ultimate deity? Do I tell her that the cause of our present woes is not religious but political, due in fact to religious illiteracy? I decide to let it be. Besides, I wasn't going to take a chance at starting a war!
So , this I humbly speak...... with faith.
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