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Having my fears running continuously in the background (subconscious) is like having an open umbrella over my head whether or not it's raining.
Just because it rained once and the umbrella kept me dry, the umbrella is superfluous if it’s not raining.
If it's not raining, it’s not the umbrella that’s keeping me dry.
Just because it rained once and the umbrella kept me dry, the umbrella is superfluous if it’s not raining.
If it's not raining, it’s not the umbrella that’s keeping me dry.
Are umbrellas unnecessary altogether?
No. There are times when it’s use is helpful.
Is an umbrella the only way to stay dry?
Also, no. There are hats, raincoats, newspapers, bags …
And sometimes you just get wet. It’s really not the end of the world. I mean, you get wet every time you bathe or swim.
And then you dry off.
An umbrella is not the be-all end-all when it comes to staying dry.
No. There are times when it’s use is helpful.
Is an umbrella the only way to stay dry?
Also, no. There are hats, raincoats, newspapers, bags …
And sometimes you just get wet. It’s really not the end of the world. I mean, you get wet every time you bathe or swim.
And then you dry off.
An umbrella is not the be-all end-all when it comes to staying dry.
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I’ve heard mantras like “Let go and let God,” or been encouraged to leave my requests at the cross.
According to these mantras, we enlist God to do a thing - we focus on the outcome. Make this sickness go away. Sell my house. Grant me that job - or a job. That’s putting it in God’s hands, right? Then we are supposed to let go or walk away. We are to pray and then sit back and wait for the miracle, no matter how small.
According to these mantras, we enlist God to do a thing - we focus on the outcome. Make this sickness go away. Sell my house. Grant me that job - or a job. That’s putting it in God’s hands, right? Then we are supposed to let go or walk away. We are to pray and then sit back and wait for the miracle, no matter how small.
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I was standing on the earth, connecting with that part of its creator that was imbued into it, thinking about how the earth supports us.
Oftentimes in my life, prayer has been outcome based - asking God to do this, to change that, or take that away. The outcome typically sought had to do with comfort, safety, or convenience - whether my own or someone else’s. And when prayer is based on an outcome, we tend to become focused on that one outcome that we decided is best.
Oftentimes in my life, prayer has been outcome based - asking God to do this, to change that, or take that away. The outcome typically sought had to do with comfort, safety, or convenience - whether my own or someone else’s. And when prayer is based on an outcome, we tend to become focused on that one outcome that we decided is best.
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The Me I Was Before looked for God in the mundane, in the everyday things of life.
One of the mundane things in my life is squeezing a lemon into my water every morning. But I don’t like the seeds floating around in my glass.
One morning, I pondered this activity and found God there in my lemon.
One of the mundane things in my life is squeezing a lemon into my water every morning. But I don’t like the seeds floating around in my glass.
One morning, I pondered this activity and found God there in my lemon.
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Social norms.
They are sneaky little tyrants, dictating to us what is acceptable, and what is not; what we can be proud of and what we should be ashamed of.
They are embedded deeply into our subconscious causing us to behave, dress, even speak in ways and places that they deem appropriate without us even knowing they are there. They whisper ceaslessly in our being, lulling us into compliance.
We don’t question their mandates; they make us believe we are choosing these things for ourselves.
But are we?
They are sneaky little tyrants, dictating to us what is acceptable, and what is not; what we can be proud of and what we should be ashamed of.
They are embedded deeply into our subconscious causing us to behave, dress, even speak in ways and places that they deem appropriate without us even knowing they are there. They whisper ceaslessly in our being, lulling us into compliance.
We don’t question their mandates; they make us believe we are choosing these things for ourselves.
But are we?
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I saw a baby bird in my yard. Well, it wasn't a baby baby, it was more like a fledgling. It was fully feathered and able to fly short distances, perhaps from the limb of a tree or a fence to the ground. Flying back up, even a short distance, was another story. The little guy was nestled in the grass, being very quiet and still.
He was just chillin, sunning himself or enjoying the fresh air. Then, all of a sudden, this little bird stands up and starts squawking and raising a ruckus! I looked around to see what the fuss was all about, and I saw an adult bird sitting on the top of the fence.
He was just chillin, sunning himself or enjoying the fresh air. Then, all of a sudden, this little bird stands up and starts squawking and raising a ruckus! I looked around to see what the fuss was all about, and I saw an adult bird sitting on the top of the fence.
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I’ve always thought this meant that in our lifetimes we will experience the death of others, and, ultimately, our own death. Both of these things are true; it is a linear understanding based on the beginning and ending of a single lifetime. In this view, death is the end of a timeline that was once characterized by life. At least this is how I’ve always understood it.
Death became part of Rod’s life in the most literal way. But on the day he died, death became part of my life, too.
Death became part of Rod’s life in the most literal way. But on the day he died, death became part of my life, too.
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Today I turn 59. Fifty-nine. That’s one birthday away from sixty.
The big 6-0.
To my juniors (and my big brother!), 59, 60 … not much of a difference. And in reality, that’s probably true. But the 60-somethings seem an odd age, don’t they? I mean they’re still considered kids by their seniors, but they ain’t no spring chickens, neither! It’s kind of like being between 18 and 21 when you’re legally old enough for some things but not others. So are you grown up yet or not?
The big 6-0.
To my juniors (and my big brother!), 59, 60 … not much of a difference. And in reality, that’s probably true. But the 60-somethings seem an odd age, don’t they? I mean they’re still considered kids by their seniors, but they ain’t no spring chickens, neither! It’s kind of like being between 18 and 21 when you’re legally old enough for some things but not others. So are you grown up yet or not?
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Although it would be more accurate to say ...
Hello, piece of notebook paper in a 3-ring binder.
I’m a journal junkie. I love pretty journals with colorful flowers or swirls, or inspirational or funny sayings. I love journals that are spiral bound because they can be folded back on themselves for ease of writing on both sides of the page. I love journals that are bound like a book because, when all the pages are filled in, it looks like I’ve written … well, a book.
Hello, piece of notebook paper in a 3-ring binder.
I’m a journal junkie. I love pretty journals with colorful flowers or swirls, or inspirational or funny sayings. I love journals that are spiral bound because they can be folded back on themselves for ease of writing on both sides of the page. I love journals that are bound like a book because, when all the pages are filled in, it looks like I’ve written … well, a book.
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Wind is a mystery.
We don’t know where it comes from, or where it’s going. We can track its direction, but its origin and destination remain unknown.
We hear the sound of the trees as the wind rustles the treetops, then slows,
only to rustle them again,
like great breaths in … and great breaths out.
We don’t know where it comes from, or where it’s going. We can track its direction, but its origin and destination remain unknown.
We hear the sound of the trees as the wind rustles the treetops, then slows,
only to rustle them again,
like great breaths in … and great breaths out.
