Be the hero in your own movie.

If this were a movie you’d call it an adventure. You’d watch to see how the hero handles it. Be the hero you’d root for.

Most of us “stuck in our homes” with family, tv, internet, clean running water, Flushing toilets, Sanitation pick up and mail delivery … (List goes on) are living better than much of the world does on a good day.
Why is it so hard to sit still and stay put? Yes small children are a challenge but even that is an opportunity to teach them the value of introversion and the power of thinking independently, pursuing subjects of education that interest them rather than a mandated curriculum, looking to themselves for ideas and inspiration.
For parents who have not done that themselves, this could be a challenge. Learn it together. It will improve your relationship with your children forever.

People have been complaining for years about society’s declining values with no way to hit the pause button.
Now, faced with the opportunity to do just that, many are instead , listening to the very people who benefit from the materialistic mess, when they tell them the goal is to do everything to get back to it.
If ever there was a moment to hit the pause button, reevaluate and restructure, this is it. Companies and people who survive in hard times are always those with the ability to adapt. As need to transport people decreases, pickup and delivery of goods & groceries increases. There’s still a need to be filled.

People still need what they need to survive.
Produce is growing,
water still flowing
It’s never been money that keeps us alive


I’m Eleanor of Aquitaine
knock me down and I’m back again
Voice of reason in a world insane
While the devil’s brood fight to reign
I survive, I survive
I’m Joan of Arc, I’m Mother T
Mada’me Curie, I’m Hillary
You’ve always been afraid of me
But I survive I survive
They focus on the man with the plan,
the man with the seed
who does the deed.
Who might not even know their name
Might have gone, once he came.
(Never to be seen again)
Still I endure, like Mother Earth
My strength is love. I give my blood.
And If you turn your back on me
I’ll hold your hand and bring you tea
A woman’s strength comes from inside.
You can survive, if you will survive.

Hey what About Me!

Most of us at one time or another are going to face the job of taking care of elderly parents. And most of us feel guilty for dreading it. It’s not a fun job but these are our parents. We owe them, don’t we? My answer is no. We think of all they’ve done for us. Some parents have even made a point of telling their children what they’ve sacrificed and expect gratitude, like it’s owed. Crock. People have children when they are young, sexual and looking forward to life. We (the baby boomers) can’t even claim our kids weren’t planned. We had birth control. No it was drugs sex, rock & roll for most of us. Children were the result of a good time (usually) and until we’re sure about reincarnation we’ve gotta say, they don’t ask to be born.  

Our children owe us no more than they owe every other human being on earth. Respect and mutual consideration. Folks don’t seem to have mastered that yet. 

If you want to relationship with your adult children, you’ve got 18 years to earn one. 
Get busy..

Baptists, Catholics and Jehovah’s Witnesses

I don’t see much difference between the message of Buddha and Jesus but there’s night and day difference in the delivery. I’ve always been intensely curious about religion. Fortunately, my parents were Agnostics. They allowed me to make up my own mind and I’ll be eternally grateful. (perhaps eternally damned but the pun still works)
My best friend’s family were deeply devoted Baptists. They weren’t Sunday Christians. They attended church 3-5 nights a week. Even as teenagers, the kid’s social life centered around the church. As good Christians, they were always interested in saving stray souls when they found them. Naturally, they couldn’t help noticing a religiously unattached child. They often invited me to attend church and I was happy to go. My own family had no social life. No road trips, no overnight vacations. My mother didn’t join clubs or have friends. My father belonged to a barbershop quartet which held Monday night meetings but we weren’t invited. So when my neighbor invited me to church, I was glad to go. The only time I ever went to summer camp was with my friend to the Baptist Bible camp. It didn’t stick for me but it’s hard to criticize something that has worked so well for them. To this day, my friend, her siblings and their spouses, (who they met through church) remain deeply involved with their religion. I can’t help but believe it works for them is that they are rare people who believe what they say they believe and so really live by it. I don’t understand how folks can believe the bible, literally but I have to respect anyone who says what they mean and means what they say. I love integrity.

Then there was my Uncle, my mother’s brother, who married a Catholic girl and agreed to raise his children (my cousins) as Catholic. It drove my grandfather nuts. I was curious enough to attend church with them too. I went more than a few times but it didn’t take long to figure out why it bothered my grandfather for his son to be Catholic but it wasn’t until I grew older that I understood the whole story. My grandfather had been raised in the Catholic Church. A natural skeptic, he had nonetheless been dutiful and raised his family in the church. They worked hard and have a little to show for it except for his 12 children. This same uncle had been a twin and they were the pride of my grandfathers life. When the boys were about seven, scarlet fever took my Uncle’s twin brother. My grandfather was distraught. He sought help from the priest told him it was God’s punishment but the child could be released from purgatory for a sum. Now this was during the great depression when even a small sum was an impossible feat. My grandfather felt betrayed and out raged by the extortion. As often happens with people who’ve reformed, it’s hard to see loved ones who haven’t seen the light. 

When I was about seven, I came home from school to find a nice lady sitting at the dining room table. My mother introduced her saying “This is Miss Lear. She’s a Jehovah’s Witness and she’s going to come every week to study with you.” Turns out, Miss Lear had knocked on the door and my mother, uncomfortable saying no, pawned her off on me. She came weekly for seven years. It wasn’t all bad. jehovah’s Witnesses have annual conventions and she took me on my first trip to New York where I learned to use the automat. A few years later the convention was in Alantic city where I ate my first hoagie.

I think I’m more objective than most when it comes to religion. I know there’s something more than what we know but I don’t for the life of me understand how people can be sure they know exactly what. Seems to me, when we die we will know everything or nothing so why waste all our time arguing over who’s guess is right. Since we can’t prove it, we have no choice but to wait and see so why not try being nice to each other?   

OK, Here’s what I want to know – 

  1. Why did Christianity allow the church to wedge itself between Jesus’ message and the people it was meant for? 
  2. How has Buddhism been able to (more so than Christianity) prevent that? 
  3. Is it a cultural thing? 
  4. If so, what part of the cultural difference is it ?

By Anita Moorjani – Dying To Be Me: My Journey from Cancer, to Near Death, to True Healing……

Be as Unique as everyone else

Do we love unique, really?  Seems like we need to be special AND we need to belong. Maybe what we really want is to belong to a group that’s “special”.  It’s probably why everybody thinks they want to be a rockstar. We see them as special but we know they belong too. 

We want to be seen and appreciated for who we truly are “our authentic self” (as Opera says) but we want appreciation so much, we forget about the “for who we are” part. We try to fit in.
We want to be special like the stars on TV who say “be yourself”. Nobody we know is interested in that. Poor us. We’re special too. How did she get so lucky? We forget about the years that “star” we love was alone, ridiculed and rejected for being “different. That was before she was the new thing. After all, we have to wait to embrace unique artists until the media tells us to. If they’re not on TV or radio they must not be special.

We’re standing in the forest.

Where are the darn trees?