Well, I’ve just above spent all day to make a complete circle and end up real close to where I began.
The “new” blog doesn’t look much different from the old one! In the end, the only really noticeable change is the name and the tag line. Oh well. My hope is that the change in terminology will drive more readers to the blog and, hopefully, more people will be blessed.
All is not lost, no matter what. Sometimes, even a small change is enough to jump-start one to higher-and-higher places! My fondest hope is that more people will share posts that they believe are helpful on their preferred social media, or via link in an e-mail to someone in need.
Topographical map of South Africa, continent version (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
How is it with you, my ancient relations?
I know you are reading my blogs, but I am truly mystified, (and honored), at the frequency!
You see, this blog host, WordPress, gives me views by country on its stats, which is really cool. And South Africa, by a stupendous margin, has far exceeded any other country over the past few weeks. For some reason, across the miles, we seem to be connecting. That, to me, is an amazing and inexplicable statistic, and I would love to hear from you!
Next time you stop by to have a look, please leave me a note . . . maybe tell me your name, and where you are in South Africa. I would love that.
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (Photo credit: Ben C.K. (Benck’s))
Why?
If you are bothering to take the time to read this, the least that you could do, for YOURSELF, is answer that question.
Why?
Why do you think the way that you think? Is it your thoughts, or the thoughts of others that you have heard since your youth? That answer could change your life.
Why?
Why do you imagine that you know the “truth,” knowing full well that “truth” is, and always has been, subjective; purely defined by an individual’s perspective. And yet you judge.
Why?
Speak not until you can honestly answer the “why?” And when honest evaluation comes, you will realize that we are ALL offending specks in the eyes of Creation. What you and I know would not fill a piss cup at the doctor’s office.
Open your heart, and the eyes of the greater awareness of which you are a part. Then you will see; and so much of what you deem as offensive, wrong, immoral, and destructive to humanity will no longer have substance. You will live in freedom and peace.
You know the song – I’m sure you do. Let me help you out.
It’s a “Jack-in-the-Box;” and the song that plays as you turn the crank is usually what we have come to know as “Pop Goes The Weasel.” And I am willing to bet that there isn’t a single soul reading this that doesn’t know when to expect the “pop.”
Surprisingly, even as grown adults, we will still feel an increase in tension as we anticipate that “pop.” The build-up can’t be ignored – as you turn the crank you, yourself, also experience a wind-up. Here it comes . . . can you hear it? Even now, without a Jack-in-the-Box, you can feel the anticipation of the “pop” moment when you imagine yourself turning that crank.
It’s a toy . . . an amusement for children. The thrill of what is coming gives them quite a giggle. But all of this has come into my mind recently as a result of something that isn’t fun, or child’s play. Suicide.
Most of you heard about the death of retired football great Junior Seau.
Reports say he died from a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the chest. There is also speculation that he did not go the more “traditional” route that we hear about in suicide with guns – a shot to the head – because it is hinted that he wanted his brain to be intact, so that it could be examined to evaluate the effects of traumatic brain injury, (TBI): effects that, presumably, led him to take his own life.
All of this, of course, is speculation and, probably, can never be anything more than that. What weighs upon my mind is the plight of those who are mentally compromised for some reason. This includes Depression, TBI, PTSD, Bi-Polar Disorder, Manic-Depressive, and all of the other names we have for brains that process in ways that are deemed “dysfunctional.”
These people, (of which I am one, a sufferer of severe, chronic PTSD), metaphorically, are always hearing the music of the Jack-in-the-Box. It is a constant, cranking, winding of anxiety . . . tighter and tighter. But for me, and many other people, we never get the “pop” – just the constant cranking.
Now, the nature of the “pop” can be many things, from an explosion of anger, to a complete breakdown of a sobbing release or, in the sad case of Mr. Seau and others, the taking of one’s life. It is unsettling.
When will the “pop” come, or will it ever come?
What form will the “pop” take?
How many times, and how many forms, will the “pop” take?
You know, this “pop”is always a surprise, no matter how much you are prepared. You and I know the song, we KNOW when the pop comes, but it is still startles us just a bit when it arrives.
A children’s toy, a child’s song – but a very serious thing for someone whose mental state is such that events are processed with an unrealistic sense of gravity.
Many soldiers are returning home with a compromised state of mind – one that has been dismissed and ridiculed by their chain-of-command. This is a tragedy of inestimable harm. If it isn’t addressed, I fear that many more will reach that “pop,” and hurt themselves and/or many others. I strongly suspect that this is what happened when the man killed 16 civilians in Afghanistan. The song ended, and “POP.” A string can only be stretched so far before it breaks, and you might be smiling and laughing until that moment.
I have no idea what this post is trying to get at – I am not suicidal in any way, shape, or form. Maybe I just want everyone to push the U.S. Government to do more to deal with the hidden ravages that plague the young minds of the men and women it has asked to lay everything on the line. And the NFL, too.
Screenshot of John Wayne from the film Operation Pacific (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is what was said:
“Revelations of the photographs had senior defense officials once again promising an investigation “that could lead to disciplinary measures.” Said Pentagon spokesman George Little: “Anyone found responsible for this inhuman conduct will be held accountable in accordance with our military justice system.”
This little snippet was in reference to the photos of U.S. Serviceman urinating on the bodies of dead Taliban soldiers. I will admit, such behavior lacks, shall we say, “integrity,” and is not in keeping with fables the U.S Government likes to spin regarding our morality.
The fact that we are in a foreign country, killing people, apparently, isn’t “inhuman;” but pissing on them after we have killed them is just WRONG. I think our moral compass is off or something.
War is shitty, nasty, bloody, irreverent, and a rocket-ship ride through hell for those on the ground. We teach the killing, without remorse, and then act surprised and appalled when someone “disrespects” the corpses we taught and told them to make.
I must say that your head is firmly planted in your ass if you believe that this is an isolated incident, or if you believe that such behavior did not happen when the “Greatest Generation” was fighting in WW II, or any other war. Technology is the only thing that has made this an incident – cell phones that record on the spot, and then post the pictures for all the world to see in a matter of seconds.
War isn’t like a Gene Autrey or John Wayne movie – it is blood, and guts, and fear, and screaming, and a great big “fuck it.” It isn’t nearly as glamorous, or romantic, or noble as John Wayne makes it appear in the photo that I have included in this blog. That’s the truth. I’ve been there, in combat, and beheld it personally. I speak from experience.
Are you offended, outraged, embarrassed, judgmental, sitting at home and hearing about it on the news? Yes, it’s real easy to be righteous when you weren’t there.
Bring them home. Now. That will solve at least one problem.
Picture of marbles from my collection (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I lied. This single blog isn’t for “all the marbles.” It is for 300 of the marbles, because this is the 300th post I have written on this blog.
One would think that on such an auspicious occasion, I would have something incredibly profound to write about; maybe crack the Mayan calendar, or definitively explain quantum physics in a manner that even a child could easily grasp, or perhaps channel some complex thoughts from a being from an alien race.
Alas, I have nothing of such magnitude to offer. But, you know what, I have written 300 posts in a world where most blogs you come across haven’t had an entry since 2009. I’m rather proud of that, (no, I am not without ego, despite my belief that it is the source of much misery).
This leads me to a simple message: if you are determined to do something, there is a very good chance that you will.
I have been determined to keep this blog alive, knowing in my heart that, every now and then, I would write something that gave someone hope. And, over time, I have heard that I have. And if I can write something that can positively influence someone’s life, then YOU can do something to positively change someone’s life – you just have to be determined to do it.
Thank you to ALL of you who have taken the time to read my words thus far . . . and you can be sure that there will be more to come.
So, I am officially patting myself on the back for 300 posts. That’s a lot of hours at the keyboard, and a lot of commitment. Funny thing, though, it is always me that receives the greatest blessings from the effort. I’ll take ‘em
Nothing Biblical here, I’m talking about the well-known painter, Thomas Kinkade, known as “The Painter of Light,” who passed away just over a week ago.
Personally, I thought a lot of his work was absolutely stunning: cottages surrounded by flowers with a warm glow pouring from the windows, a cabin on a pristine lake, beautiful, sun-drenched fields. His work, to me, evoked great feelings of serenity and peace – I wanted to be in those pictures. Critics, however, bashed the “commercialism” of his work, and reviled him for what they called “pandering” to the masses.
Now, I don’t have specific numbers, but I can safely say that MILLIONS of people purchased and cherished his work. MILLIONS. I wonder how many art critics ran him over the coals? I’m guessing, and guessing high I imagine, that it couldn’t have numbered more than a few hundred.
Today, I read a story, reportedly by the late Mr. Kinkade’s brother, Patrick, that indicated that Thomas Kinkade battled severe alcoholism, and had relapsed. He said that decades of attacks on his brother’s work had taken a toll on his life. A dispatch recording said that Thomas Kinkade had been drinking all night when he was found, and was unresponsive.
We humans are odd beasts. Millions of people love what you do, and a few hundred critics don’t, and somehow the critics loom larger than the people whose lives you have changed in such positive ways. That is truly saddening to me.
Going into his galleries was an experience – the cool lighting, the colors and light bursting forth from the canvas. And all of this beauty, apparently, came out of a mind tormented by darkness.
To a painter, maybe what he did was considered easy stuff. I don’t know, I’m not a painter. Easy or not, it was pretty and enjoyable. Maybe he didn’t re-invent the wheel, but what he did made people smile, and that’s worth a lot.
For my money, it beats the crap out of Andy Warhol’s soup can thing, (which a lot of critics love). To each his own.
The important thing to take from this is that whatever you may be doing with your life, artistic or otherwise, there are going to be people who, metaphorically speaking, will stand in line and wait their turn to piss all over it. Two things:
1. DON’T . . . PLEASE . . . be one of those people standing in line to hurt someone in that way. And…
2. Whatever you’re doing, don’t let naysayers drive your life over a cliff. Live off the bright spots. They’re nutritious and warm, like a bowl of soup, (had to throw that in since I ragged on Warhol’s thing . And No matter who you are, I guarantee that you have created more than a few bright spots.
A game of Captive Queens at its earlier stages, if the fives, sixes, and queens are dealt first. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Here I go again.
This is how it is for a writer – you write.
I ask the “muse” what it is that I am supposed to be writing about, and the answer is always the same; just write – the words will be given to you. And now, I wait.
There it is, coming over the horizon. Turns out that it is a simple thing.
Quit bitching, quit being an excuse for moaning about life’s unfairness. You got the same deal as everyone else – a set of randomly dealt cards that you have to play.
Maybe you think that the hand that you have been dealt sucks. I don’t know, maybe it does. But that doesn’t mean you can’t play those cards wisely, shrewdly, and end up taking home the pot.
You have the same chance as anyone else in this game – it’s all about what you make with what you are given. There is a winning hand in your fingers – EVERY hand is a winner. But not for those who think like a loser. Not for those who decide to play the role of “victim.”
There is LIFE, and within life there is nothing missing. Everything that is miserable, and everything that feels wonderful are all floating around out there. No one gets “picked on,” by the Universe. The cards are dealt to you as is appropriate to your karma.
DON’T bemoan the hand you are dealt – play it wisely, and WIN. You know, a pair of ANYTHING beats nothing, and NOTHING is your true opponent. Even a single card, of any suite or face value, beats nothing.
You have created an opponent that does not exist; the Universe does not stand against you, it is your belief that such is the case that creates an opponent to your success. So, in essence, YOU are your own adversary; YOU have created the challenges by your own volition.
I didn’t expect to write this tonight – such is the muse. I trust that someone needed to read it.
The eye of an asian elephant at Elephant Nature Park, Thailand Deutsch: Das Auge eines indischen Elefanten im Elephant Nature Park, Thailand (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
…when an elephant is angry, is somewhere else.”
That’s good advice.
Now, I have another quote for you. This one is from Dwayne Johnson, aka “The Rock” in WWE wrestling, and an actor in movies as well. Tonight, I heard him say:
“The Rock wipes a monkey’s ass with the word ‘impossible’.”
I love that quote. Staged, acting, whatever, those words exemplify the “never-say-die” attitude that I have often espoused on this blog – whatever it is, you can do it; to hell with “impossible.”
The essence of walking the tightrope of life is to be able to draw a balance between these two quotes. You don’t want to confront the “angry elephant,” (which I am using an allegory for your biggest dreams and goals), unprepared.
You also do not want to look at the angry elephant as “impossible” to overtake. In the end , it all comes down to making baby steps.
There’s nothing wrong with “baby steps.” That’s how you and I learned to walk, though we fell down a lot in the process, too. Huge, dynamic dreams are wondrous, powerful, and attainable goals, but the best way to get there is one step at a time; a daily accomplishment, a “baby step.” You tame the mighty elephant one little piece at a time – face it head on, and you will be no more than a greasy spot on the jungle floor.
So, here’s the point. ELIMINATE the idea of ANYTHING being “impossible;” everything is possible. But don’t attempt to reach the gigantic end by skipping the little steps in-between. It’s the little steps that make it happen.
You can do whatever you set your intent upon, but don’t go from a standing start to standing in front of the “angry elephant;” you’re not ready to be there, That route can only lead to crushing disillusionment that might cause you to give up on your dreams altogether. That would be tragic. A little bit at a time, and you’ll get there. Be patient.
Chinese Gamblers in a Fan Tan Gambling House, Macao, China. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Gather ’round, now, gather ’round. It’s time to place your bets. You there, yes, you . . . you look like a person with a hot hand. Get in here quick, and place your bet!
Oh, not a gambler, you say? Well, excuse me for my error; I took you for a member of the human race, and all humans are gamblers. What planet do you hail from?
Never mind . . . if you’re not gamblin’ . . . well, you’re not even alive in this world. To live here on earth you’ve got to be a gambler – a risk-taker – you’ve got to be willin’ to bet it all on yourself. Win or lose, it don’t matter.
Step aside, now, you’re in the way of the players.
Go over and lay down in that box over yonder. That’s where we put folks that ain’t alive, and you ain’t alive unless you’re taking a gamble, or risking something. Life is risk in these parts – you don’t get nothin’ without risk. Gamblers rule this world. You’re dead on the inside if you don’t spin the wheel . . . if you don’t take a gamble on your dreams.
You’re planet must be mind-numbingly boring. What you do up there? Just sit around and stare at each other?
No risks?
No change?
No gambling on a big dream?
No, you can have it. Dead folk like that ought not be in the way of the living. Now get away from here; we gotta’ roll the dice, and if we lose, we’ll get back up and try it again . . . and again . . . and again. And sooner or later, our persistence will pay off, and we will live our dream.
Not a gambler . . . geesh. People that won’t bet on themselves ain’t got no hope – no reason to be here. Stiff as a board and ready for the grave is what they are. Ain’t no way to live without risk – it’s not possible.
Steppin’ out in faith; that’s how you do it. Might get a bloody nose or two, and maybe spend a lot of time on your back . . . lookin’ up.
But the game’s got rules, and the rules say you can get back up as many times as you want. You can’t strike out; life has to keep giving you a pitch as long as you stand in the batter’s box. You keep standing in there and swinging and, odds are, you’ll knock one out of the park.
