This is my favorite word of the day.  At first I thought I made it up, when trying to think of a way to describe my morning at work.  It was fun to say over and over and over in my head.  Ridiculum, ridiculum, ridiculum.  Maybe that's why things were all wiggy to begin with.  I conjured the ridiculous by saying it's name three times like Beetlejuice.  Or perhaps it was the Hogwarts effect - swish and flick - and poof.

Ridiculum - the study, observation and practice of the ridiculous, like "curriculum", except not nearly so stuffy.

So I was pretty bummed to learn that my nifty new word wasn't really mine at all.  It's Latin, of all things, so those blasted ancient Romans probably came up with it.

One thing I'm sure of, however, is there is no way they had as much fun saying it (and living it) as I did.

Carpe Something,

WS
 
"Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.  I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is.  Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.  I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.  I cannot count one.  I know not the first letter of the alphabet.  I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born.  The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things."
                                                                           Walden by Henry David Thoreau

My semester is over and as I must have a book in my hands to feel grounded, I have revisited Thoreau and his beautiful Walden.  [insert contented sigh here]

My previous ponderings, and grumblings, over the quest for abundant simplicity have been answered and quieted by these words and as my imagination flies away to a place long past I wish I too could sneak off to the solitary woods for a year or two.

Instead, I drift off each morning to the stillness of the mind and the seek out the peace of the birds waking outside my window.

We do what we can with what we have.

Pathfinding again,

WS
 
"If you go to heaven without being naturally talented for it, you will not enjoy it there."
                                                                                             - George Bernard Shaw

"There is work that is work and there is play that is play; there is play that is work and work that is play. And in only one of these lie happiness."
                                                                                               - Gelett Burgess

What to do?

For those of you who have been following my blog, you know that I've experienced some career "challenges" over the last few years.  In hindsight (which is not 20/20 like they say but rather like a slowly developing Polaroid photograph) I can see that the course of my career has been anything but a steady evolution.  It has been a series of circumstantial adaptations based primarily on survival rather than joy.  True, without survival there can be no joy, thus the reason for most of the choices.  But what do you do when a job sucks the juicy shiny right out of you and turns your happy grapey self into a grouchy little raisin?

I need to pay my bills.  I like eating and I like sleeping in a real bed under an actual roof.  I like having an address.  I'm working my ass off going to school.  I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to do something I love that wouldn't require a masters degree, because truthfully I just don't know that I can make it through 5 more years of school while working jobs that chew on me.  And my student loan tally by the end of it all may comparatively rival the national debt based upon my current age and remaining years to work to pay it off.  Neither one may ever be paid in full.

Becoming a hermit in the mountains somewhere has certainly crossed my mind but I don't think my kids would dig it much.

I feel like I'm being given a cosmic swirly.  On paper, 'resume paper' to be precise, it looks like I've been doing nothing but going backwards.  I once made more than three times the pay I make today, and I had the freedom to work fewer hours if I wished.  Even with a masters degree I may never again earn what I once did.  So why aren't I still doing "that"?  Because "that" doesn't exist anymore, and it may be years and years before that bus comes back around.  By then, it won't be my bus anymore.

I think there are a whole bunch of people who don't have a bus anymore.  We're all bumping around looking for a way to fill our immediate needs, and also the ones higher up on the Maslow pyramid.  When you were once on the cusp of self actualization, it's hard to slide back down to rooting around for food and safety.

There is great value in a life of simplicity.  This is something I know without doubt.  That is the place where I'd like to exist.  What I've learned is that abundance and simplicity go together like chocolate and peanut butter.  How can this be?  Because abundance is NOT the same as excess.  A life of excess is when the "stuff" is the show, and the show becomes the most important thing.  A life of abundance is when you have more resources than you need and you create a life that does not threaten to exhaust those resources.  There is more than enough to play with, but there is no desire to squander. 

Simplicity and scraping by are not the same.  I am currently living below the simplicity line.

What to do?

I don't know why I chose Beaker as the image for this post.  Beaker seems happy, and wise, and quiet.  He is an observer and a supporter.  He is useful and dedicated.  If I had to guess I'd say, most of the time, he is content in his work.  And he makes me smile.

Plus he says "me-me---me, me, me" all the time and no one thinks he's arrogant.

Gotta love that...

WS

Wistful

11/30/2011

1 Comment

 
Winter is coming.

Granted, I live in sunny central Florida.  How bad can it be?  But "dark" and "chilly" are not my favorite adjectives.  When winter rolls in I hold my breath until spring.  It is like a test of endurance.  I don't know why.

I already miss the beach days and sunsets that don't happen until nearly 8:00 PM.  I like the drone of cicadas when it is 96 degrees outside and still because it is too hot to move around.  I crave the tantalizing shock of a cool breeze that comes right before a wicked afternoon thunderstorm.

Where are my flip flops?

Tomorrow it will be December.

And I am longing for May.

WS
 
When what appears lovely comes wrapped in thorns, it is best to say "no thank you."

It's funny some people think it is their duty to tell others what is "wrong" with them, followed by precise instructions how to fix those flaws ASAP, and later they expect glowing expressions of appreciation for their "rightness."  In the absense of your gratitude, they are offended and insulted.

No thank you.

Yes, if I am about to step out in front of a speeding bus, by all means, stop me.  But if "fault finding" has become your hobby, leave me out of it.  I've become rather fond of my faults, and the ones I don't like, I'll manage on my own.  If I need your advice, I'll ask for it.

I'd rather hang out with friends, family, colleagues and mentors whose focus is the depth of our strengths and talents.  I'd rather fan the flames under the stew pot of the positive, because that's the life I want to cook up.  Why cultivate bitterness and negativity?

Life is challenging enough.

Take a close look at the gifts you are giving and receiving.  Be sure they are wrapped in love.

Peace,

WS
 
                            If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
                                                                                                    
I wonder if I have it in me to be still and steady.

It's funny because most people would consider me to be the picture of still and steady, but on the inside, I am often wild-eyed and jumpy.  With the snap of a twig, I am running.  I wasn't always like that.  I used to be like a docile old plow horse, willing to bear the weight of the collar and peacefully shouldering whatever demands were placed before me.  Until I found the courage to break out of the barn.  Every soul reaches a point where subordination becomes unbearable.

Why must horses be broken?  Why do we feel the need to bend the wild will to domesticity?  What drives us to submit to a master or to demand dominion over another?

Does a balance exist between the mustang me and the draft horse me?  Does it exist in you?  I would like to find a barn that offers shelter and security without dark confinement.  I've had a glimpse or two of that but the reality has been as elusive as a storm, rumbling in and passing by faster than I could keep up.  No matter how fast I gallop, the thunder clouds are faster.  Out of breath, I stop and stand and watch them roll away.

They are free and I am wishful.

WS
 
                                        "There will be an answer...let it be."
                                                                                    Let It Be, by The Beatles

There are times when patience is more painful than defeat.

Patience has become my nemesis, even while I know it may become my saving grace.  Because it gnaws at me like a dog on a bone, I understand not only must I allow it to invade; I need to find a way to welcome it willingly, to yield to its authority, to sip tea with it and exchange pleasantries while it extracts my every remaining stronghold of resistance.  Patience is not my nature.  To submit to it is like learning to write upside-down and backwards with my left hand.

As with all necessary lessons for the reluctant and the timid (or the defiant and incorrigible), the Universe is quite happy to wrap you in chains of circumstance where the only release is through the lesson you seem most determined not to learn.  There is one key and it is freely available - unless, of course, you'd rather rub away at the links bit by bit with a nail file.  The choice is yours really - the easy way or the hard way - no matter.

For me, the easy way is the hard way.

I like closure.  I am a list-writer and I am an item-checker-offer.  When I complete something - check - I can move on.  If something remains incomplete, I ruminate and fret over it.  I devise strategies in my head to hasten a final result.  In the absence of a happy ending, I would prefer a bad ending over no ending at all.  The unfinished for me is as intolerable as the tingles that come when your foot falls asleep and suddenly starts to wake up.  I find it very hard to endure peacefully.

An open parentheses needs a closed parentheses.

How long should one wait for an answer from another? At what point does lingering indecision become the decision?  Over what distance in time does a plaintive call return as a haunting and lonely echo?

There will be an answer...of some sort.

Let it be.

Take refuge in the warmth of the tea.

Tea in the Sahara.

I wonder when patience turns to foolishness, when hope becomes a delusion.  When might love reveal itself to be a mirage? Is there yet an oasis to be found for the diligent and resolute?

Hindsight is the only thing that peddles certainty, but even that decays over time.  Regret, like patience, is something I may yet have to face with as much dignity as I can gather.  There may be lush vibrance on the other side of this, or only dry brittle bones. One never knows, but it will be only through submission to patience that the chains will fall away in their own good time.

Tick tock,

WS
 
"Would you not rather greet the summer sun than fix your gaze upon a disappearing snowflake, and shiver in rememberance of the winter's cold?"
                                                                                A Course in Miracles

This is about holding on to the bad things.

This is about wrong and right and the illusions that create them.

One of the Dr. Phil-isms that I find helpful is the question he often asks: "Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?"  What does he mean by that?  In this context, what does it mean to be "right"?

I think what he means is, do you want to be right by proving others to be wrong?  Right being superior or more valuable.  Wrong being inferior or less valuable.  This is not the same as right meaning correct or more appropriate.

For example, I am always seeking to be on my "right path".  Is this path leading me where I want to go?  Am I feeling good about what is happening here and do I feel fulfilled?  Those are the questions I ask myself to decide if I am on the right track.

As you know, I am in school.  I will openly admit to putting a high value on my GPA.  Yes...I am a dork.  The reason I do however is that I am trying to suck every ounce of value out of my education because, darn it, it is HARD.  If I get an A on a test or an A on a paper, this is my clue that I am tuned in and getting the value out of the teaching and the learning.  It is like a traffic signal.  Green light - go, red light - back up and study some more.

But what about that other definition of right - the one we're willing to fight over and attack each other over?  What about that one?

That definition begins with the perception of a slight or a trespass.  Someone has to do something wrong.  A victim has to be created and an offender.  The victim then has to take on the role of accuser and the offender has to go on the defensive.  Before you know it you have two opposing packs of snarling dogs...both tense and ready to defend or attack (is there a difference?) at a moment's notice.  Without each side holding on tight to their own ideas of what happened and being vigilant in defending their "rightness", the war could not continue.

Peace is not the result of proving who was right and who was wrong.  Peace is releasing both sides from the fight.

Peace is choosing the space between.

Thank you, Dave Matthews.

The space between the wicked lies (we tell ourselves) and the hope to keep safe from pain.

Maybe no one meant to hurt anyone else.  Ever.  Maybe they thought they were being hurt.  Maybe they didn't mean that either.

If we hold onto the cold, bitter, cruel winter, we may never notice the warmth and light.  We each hold the summer sun within us.  We each have the power to move towards that which is positive and good in others and share what is positive and good in ourselves.

"The space between the bullets in our firefight
Is where I'll be hiding, 
Waiting for you"

How do we let go of wrong or right?

Put down the pointing fingers.

"Take my hand 'cause we're walking out of here..."

Reach out.  Gently, hands and heart outstretched.

"Love is all we need, dear."

WS
 

                                "Can attack in any form be love?"
                                                                        A Course in Miracles

I'm not familiar with this band but I sure could identify with the cover art.

We seek love, and we are wary of attack.  We have all been caught in what felt like painful traps...some where we had to metaphorically gnaw our own legs off to escape.  Nobody wants to go there again.  The older we get, the more timid we become or the more guarded or the more angry or tired or sad.

I see now that my vigilance was never protective armor, but rather a cage of my own making.  A cage wrapped in thorns with a "Welcome" mat on the front door step.

I was given a great lesson this morning.  I was confused and hurt and in my simmering self-righteous pain, I felt justified in possibly sending out an attack.  It didn't feel like an attack to me.  It felt like I was putting an end to something that was causing my pain.  "Enough is enough" I was saying to myself, in a quite indignant, Grinch-like tone.


I think it was the Grinch-like tone that clued me in that perhaps this was not my highest self talking.


Instead of acting upon, or even giving further consideration to that impulse, I asked for help instead.

"What page?", I asked.

"493"

A Course in Miracles.  Chapter 23 - The War Against Yourself.  II. The Laws of Chaos. Paragraph 17. 

"Who can find safety from attack by turning on himself?"

I saw in that instant the person who was about to be the recipient of my ill thought out grenade launch had done nothing to deserve it.  It was me reacting to my own fear and feelings of inadequacy.  It was me bracing for an impact.  It was me anticipating the snapping of the trap.  Not his trap...my trap.  It has always been my trap.

Ask and you shall receive.

The hurt I've been feeling...and not just now, always...has been self inflicted.  Every time someone else did or said something that hurt, it wasn't them, it was me.  It was always me.  And when I've been attacked by another (either by direct assault or fortified distance) it was probably them being caught in their own traps.

Snap...ouch...snap...ouch...snap...ouch...snap...OUCH!

Well...you get the picture.

How do I stop this?  I can only disarm my own traps.  How do I do this?  The first step is the hardest.  I have to look around and find them.  Unfortunately, they are cleverly hidden.  That's why they snap so unexpectedly and why I always thought they belonged to someone else.  I've tripped over them whenever I would try to move close to someone else.  No wonder I thought they did it.

And when I thought they did it, I lashed out.  I took a swat at them.  Most often, when it hurt the most and when I cared for them the most, I got out my little hatchet and cut off ties.  I'm done with you.  You're not going to hurt me again.  No sir.  I'm too effing smart for that.

Yeah...I feel REAL SMART right now.

How hurtful have I been?  In looking back, I just want to throw up.  I was the asshole.  I was the jerk.  I was insensitive.  I was abrupt.  I was thoughtless.  I was impatient.  I was mean.  I was stupid.  I was ugly.  I was unforgiving.  I did not love.

A few days ago, I talked about forgiveness.  Ironic, and perfect.

Today was my first step in forgiving myself.  It happened when a trap snapped.  It happened when I said "help please" instead of taking a swing at someone.

It's like when you stub your toe and you curse at the table leg.

Stop abusing the table leg.  Kiss your toe and make it feel better.  Stop hurting others and love yourself.  The more hurt you feel, the more you must do this.

Snap...HELP...snap...HELP....snap...HELP...snap...I'm sorry...snap...love...

Thank you...for showing me the trap.  One down...

Blessings and peace,

WS

Wish

10/10/2011

0 Comments

 
The lady in front of me at the 7-Eleven bought $34.00 worth of lottery tickets.

I hope she wins.

WS