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I believe that we all have different gifts, some that we use, some latent, that we could use, if we only believed in their existence. And all such gifts have both positive and negative elements to them.
Take perfect pitch, for example. I’ve talked to people who have it and for them, listening someone singing off key feels just like fingernails on the proverbial blackboard.
Photographic memory is another special gift. But I understand that it is hard to turn off–that people who have it end up with memorized cereal boxes and insurance flyers, in addition to the formulas for chemistry finals.
I also believe that some individuals are more sensitive to energy flows than others. I do feel it on occasion and I imagine that you have, as well. Ever visit an empty school room, or perhaps a church (those with lots of stained glass are the best) and feel a good energy flow that spices the air with quiet and peace? Continue reading
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Barbara Swafford, in her exceptional blog, Blogging without a Blog has honored me with her award, NBOTW (New Blog of the Week).
For those of you arriving here from Barbara’s Blog, Welcome!
For those of you who have not yet visited Blogging without a Blog, the journey is rewarding.
Barbara, in addition to providing recognition to new bloggers like me, has an excellent and growing collection of blog posts on such topics as: making money, increasing blog traffic, poetry, blogging ettiquette and buddies, and ultimately living life to the fullest.
A great read!
Thank you for the honor of including me in such august company.
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When I was little the circus would come to town, and if my folks had the money we’d go see a performance. I liked the horses, didn’t find the clowns terribly funny, and gasped at the tigers and lions. But my absolute favorite were the artists who walked the tightrope.
They had this long floppy pole for balance, and I would hold my breath as they made minute adjustments, sometimes stepping back, then teetering precariously before they walked ahead slowly, testing each foothold. Only when they reached the platform at last, did I breathe again.
Life is like that, too. In difficult situations, the future seems precarious. Continue reading
Photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons
Sometimes ideas arrive in your life at exactly the time you need them. Tonight I was reading Voluntary Simplicity: Toward a Way of Life That Is Outwardly Simple, Inwardly Rich by Duane Elgin. He describes how the commercial medium of television has profoundly shaped our culture.
Television stations make their profits by selling advertising, and advertising is bought by corporations to sell their products. And where does that leave us?
Elgin says that it creates an impossible double bind for viewers:
“People use the consumption levels and patterns portrayed in TV advertising to evaluate their levels of personal well-being, while those same consumption patterns are simultaneously devastating the environment and resource base on which our future depends.”
Strong words. But they led to me ponder my own relationship with television. Continue reading
Posted in -Earth-, -Self-, Simplicity
Tagged Duane Elgin, Elvis Presley, Pablo Neruda, radio, reading, SesameStreet, Television program, TV, voluntary simplicity
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Christmas decorations have been up this year since before Halloween. I feel sorry for the retailers. After all, we are all in this together. But I also find a strong resistance inside to start on the holidays just yet.
As I often do when I resist, I discover I am procrastinating. Today it came in the form of metacognition, just watching the thoughts as they passed through my brain.
Here is a bird’s eye view of what was going on in there:
I cleaned my office the other night because I had a new file cabinet. I stuffed all the piles of paper into the cabinet. I straightened the books and hid the extras away, double rowed, in a linen cabinet that no longer held linens. My office is clean. I still cannot find anything. Maybe I never intended to. Continue reading
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At first I thought it was a bird. Just a shadowy movement beneath the fall-dying sage, a shape that darted forward cautiously, then back behind a rock. But I knew it wasn’t a bird. Birds don’t move backward.
The binoculars threw it into sharp relief. A pocket gopher, who kept a careful eye on my cat crouched behind the patio door watching him as well. The digger’s nose pushed a small mound of finely sifted garden soil ahead, and then with a curious pounce he would flatten it. The next push would be to the opposite side, almost as a prisoner carving a tunnel blends in the dirt to hide evidence of the digging.
I must have watched for a half an hour as the mound gradually grew in a semicircle about the rock. Then all activity froze, and into my binocular’s eyeview rose the velociraptor shape of a roadrunner. Continue reading
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It is Sunday, and although I will not be going to church today, I got to thinking about things sacred and unseen.
I’ve been wondering about what happens to the truly holy man (or woman) is our culture. By “our”, I mean the Euro-American one, dominant in the place I live. And by holy I do not mean religious, for example, ministers, who are for the most part good people, but not always holy.
No, what I mean by holy is talent above and beyond the ordinary. The ability to heal. The ability to move from place to place without (metal) wings. The ability to change shape and form, and being able speak without tongues—among other things. That kind of holy. Sacred. Able to move above day-to-day existence into another shade of being. Continue reading