The Art of Being Human

Love comes to life in the most unlikely of places in the most unlikely of times. That has always been true and it’s still true.  I know, hard to believe when we are being bombarded by the fear mongering media with images and reports that sound an awful lot like we’re going to hell in a hand basket.  How many more salacious reports of politicians who can’t keep their pants zipped up are we going to have to hear about? Never mind the women who are old enough to know better, but who climb aboard the fame train with them. And let’s not forget the violence we participate in. Tell me again, how many wars are we fighting?  My friend, Revel said that if Caligula were around he’d feel right at home.  Listen, don’t get me wrong, I adore Revel but he can be just a little bit cynical and I know things are getting bad when I agree with him. Then it happens, just about the time I’m ready to put a down payment on a cozy hermitage somewhere love gets a hero, in this case in the...

I can be hard on myself. Whatever I do I want to do well and whatever I do well I think I should do better. That’s at the best of times. At the worst of times nothing I do is good enough in my eyes.  And I think its virtue.  I’ve had to rethink that particular position this week.  My understanding of a virtue is that it is a trait that helps us be our best self. I value the virtues of diligence, hard work and fortitude.  They have served me well. I’ve climbed mountains and swam deep rivers, traveled the world and lived a rich life that was, to a large extent, due to those virtues. But, when does a virtue become a vice? Last week I went to the gym for a session with a trainer after taking a week off. On top of loafing off for a week I was not feeling well and instead of honoring my body and my decision to lay off a week I jumped right in. When I had trouble doing with the exercises Shanrika planned for me I beat myself up for it…loudly and frequently.  Then to ...

     Charmaine said she writes the Daily Prism so she doesn’t rip off her clothes and run screaming down the street.   I read it I don’t succumb to the occasional urge to poke out my eye with a stick. We need reminders of the good that is in our lives and the good that we are capable of, at least I do. The way I see the world shapes my life.   I don’t know why that’s true. I do know that the good in our world becomes more evident to me when I look for it.       When I don’t see the good in life it’s not because it’s M.I.A. or because my eye sight is suddenly worse. The good is always there because love is always there in one form or another. Love exists rather we see it or not.   If I don’t see the good in a situation it’s often as not because my expectations have gotten in the way.   You might know expectations as ‘shoulds’, what should happen, what she should say, what he shouldn’t say, what they should do. I started keeping a m...

This week I was the target of misplaced gossip that was as untrue as it was unkind and completely understandable.  This is life after all.  People who don’t know me well assumed something about me and instead of coming to me they attacked me for it. How I dressed, how I looked, who my friends were, everything about me was fodder for innuendo and speculation, all of it negative of course.    You may have read the story of the mother who stopped at a traffic light and got out and opened the back door of her car. It didn’t take long for the drivers behind her to assume the worst about her character and lay on their horns like they were getting paid for every note they added to the cacophony.  It wasn’t until later that they found out that the woman’s young daughter was in backseat choking. Each of those drivers made a choice to interpret what happened based on how it affected them when it in fact had nothing to do with them, most of the time it doesn’t.  We’r...

    The quiet calm of inner peace energizes and revitalizes me the way nothing else can.   I cultivate peace and build time for it into my day. I’m a better person when I live in peace. Mercy and compassion and their acts of personal redemption rise like spring from a deep well. It just feels gooooood.  Peace doesn’t just happen.     It takes determination, discipline, focus and desire for love above all else. Peace matters and it’s worth the effort.   It’s nice when peace flows easily but that isn’t always the case. When it's not    I hold my tongue, which is not the same thing as holding my peace, thank you very much, but it’s a place to start. I take a break, go for a walk, listen to music, pray, eat a good meal.   I walk away from situations and people who vex my spirit and torment my soul.   The problem is I can’t walk away from myself and the wild thing my mind becomes when I’m feeling stressed. This week peace seemed a fleet...

        I jumped out of bed a few Saturdays back to head up to North Georgia for a bluegrass festival. Jump out of bed might be stretching the truth some because it was after ten before I got out the door. I knew where I was going. Sort of. I’d been there before and it’s near a couple of rivers I paddle. There is, however, a difference between knowing and sort of knowing. You know you’re lost when you are headed to North Georgia and see signs for Traveler’s Rest, South Carolina .   I doubled back to Toccoa and hit the back roads.   It made sense at the time or maybe I just needed a break from the peddle to the metal urgency I’d been feeling.          You can get really lost on the back roads. That’s why I like them. I like what I discover along the way.   It helps that I know that I will eventually get where I need to be.    First you must surrender any idea that you actually know where you are goi...

    Have I mentioned that I love my job? What other job lets you to literally touch the future? Where else do you get to read some  great books that you miss as a grown up? And let’s not forget recess, yeah, let’s hear it for recess. When was the last time you hit the playground? Eight year olds are fun to hang out with. My kids work hard and know how to have fun and they like my music! How cool is that? There are trade offs though.      You know the stocks the Puritans used? I’d bet you a dime and a smile that an eight year old came up with them.   Eight year olds have a very black and white sense of justice which translates into a whole lot of tattling.   They would sell their mother down the river and not blink an eye doing it.   I want to support their developing morality and be a model of that for them but mostly though I want the tattling to just stop ‘cause it is driving me bonkers! That’s the honest truth of it.     Now, ...