|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| a moment's peaceThere's a little park quite close to where I work. Stacey pointed it out.
The park has tennis courts, a baseball field, a huge octagon pavilion with square picnic tables inside, a trail that takes 11 minutes to walk at a pleasant pace, and a fabulous playground that focuses on one's ability to balance. And also contains a rock wall that is at least 10 or 12 feet high - enough even for an average sized adult to hurt themselves if they fall. O_O
Just outside the tennis courts, there is another slab of concrete with four posts at the corners that lead up to a "roof" that has no more than four or five planks running across it - certainly nothing at all to keep off the elements, making one wonder what purpose such a frame could serve. On the slab rest two regular picnic tables, the kind that are plastic coated metal and look like diamond shaped chocolate covered pretzels. It's here that I've found my new sanctuary.
Ever since last summer or so, I've been cultivating a habit of making time for quiet time in the morning. I seem physically unable to do this in my own home - it has to be in a coffee shop or by the river downtown or some other such haven. So I either purchase or make a cup of coffee and find a table or rock where I can settle with my Bible, journal, pen, and iPod.
I don't sit under the pavilion at this park because there is a summer kids' program that meets there in the mornings and I don't want to seem like a child snatcher. "Those religious nuts. Can't trust 'em." I always hated those summer camps. I don't do well when people try to make me have fun against my will and in ways that I don't concoct.
When I arrive each morning, the sun is just coming up over the tops of the trees and hits me (lovingly) in the face, since the "roof" does so little to block its rays. The sky still has the taste of early morning to it. There are usually some people playing tennis and men (one at a time, but I've never seen the same man twice) who drive a truck around in the grass, presumably fixing or cleaning things. The playground is just far enough away that the screams from the day care offer white noise and not a distraction. The cars come and go, dropping off kids or parking to let their occupants walk/jog/dog the trail. The picket fence across the street gives the whole affair a feeling of being deep in the country, while in reality, you're a mere five minutes from one of the busiest hubs in the city.
And so I sit. Sometimes I accomplish nothing more than a few minutes of peace of mind, but somehow, even that seems worth it.
| | |
| To weep or not to weep? I've been kind of weepy lately.
Just for the last week or so.
I haven't been weepy in months. Like, a LONG time. It's certainly less disconcerting than not having any reaction to anything at all....
It's curious though - the emotion will hit me and I'll be forced to react to it. Then there's this period of recovery where I realize I have the ability (I'm not powerless) to choose whether I'm going to explore that emotion or discard it.
I feel like, for so long, I've been instructed not to entertain the sad thoughts. Just focus on something else, distract yourself, pray about it, anything but let yourself feel the way you feel about the situation. When you say it that way, people say that's not what they mean, but that's the only sense I can make of the advice. So I think maybe I did it. I "drove myself to distraction." And when I got there, I shut down entirely. Then I tell people that, and they say I'm still doing it wrong, that emotions are from God and He gave me desires and passions for good reasons. And my reply is that I don't have them any more. I don't even get cravings when I'm doing a cleanse and I'm not allowed to eat white sugar or spices. I just accept it as one more thing to deny myself... though I do get irritated that it's hard to find anything to eat. 
But even with this curious discovery about the choice to explore or discard... well, duh. I'm tired of being emotional. I'll always choose to be senseless. I mean, what good does it do to be sad about something I can't change? I had a lapse. So what? I had to sob for a second. Big deal. Just breathe in and stop thinking about it. And lately I've been hearing that you're supposed to ask God for the desires of your heart, but to do that would require me to admit that I have any, which at this point is like conjuring up something I don't acknowledge, and then we're back to the exploring of the emotion - the very thing I've been avoiding.
On a rather unrelated note, tell me if this sounds unusual: I'm in the office by myself last week because my boss is on vacation. I had turned the lights off because natural lighting (through the windows) is more pleasant to me than the fluorescent bulbs overhead. My back is facing the only door to our office, which is the one closest to the door that enters the building and is rather secluded in regard to the other company suites. All of a sudden, I hear the door click shut behind me. I don't even look up! A second later I glance casually over and it was just that I hadn't closed the door all the way the last time I'd walked through it. But by myself in the dark and the door shuts by itself? Isn't that supposed to register at least some small degree of fight or flight reaction?
My reaction disturbed me more than the possibility of door-closing ghosts.
| | |
| Courtesy of Mark Lowry Tell us, Bilford... how's it feel to be a hundred and three?
Well Dillard, it may be fine for some folks, but my hair's on the dresser. My teeth are in a glass. My hearin' aid needs batteries. *whoop!* A kidney stone just passed.
My blood is thin. My knees don't bend, got SPURS on my spine. My heart is in terrific shape... it's too bad it ain't mine.
I take a bath in Epsom salts. I drink Geritol six packs. Finally gave up butter though, after sixteen heart attacks.
My back is out. My hip JUST broke. Whoops! There goes a ligament! And nature calls so often, I think that I just went.
____________________
I'd never seen a moon shaped orange colored vegetable in my life! So I bit into it and it was just... it was NASTY! It crunched! And it had no flavor. So I asked 'em what it was. They said it was sweet potatoes. I said, "Sweet potatoes aren't supposed to crunch.... Sweet potatoes are supposed to come out of the oven on Thanksgivin' mornin' with marshmallows on top of 'em, and nuts down in 'em, and juice all through 'em. They're NOT supposed to crunch. DORITOS are supposed to crunch."
And they said, "Oh, brother Lowry, we don't overcook our vegetables in the north. We don't want to cook the vitamins out of the vegetables."
I said, "Oh, for goodness sake, take a pill and cook the vegetables." You can get all the vitamins you need in a One A Day! You don't wanna be chewin' on a One A Day. You ever bite into a vitamin pill? They taste AWFUL because they got VITAMINS in 'em! That's why you cook the vegetables till the vitamins are GONE and they'll taste better!
Cook that broccoli till it's yella! Then pour cheese sauce over it. "Die young, make a pretty corpse." That's my philosophy. I want my blood runnin' through my veins: "Scuse me, pardon me, comin' through, pardon me." Mashed potatoes with a lake of gravy in it. FRIED chicken! Don't bake the... leave the SKIN on that chicken! Don't make that bird die in vain! Fry that chicken. Fry it.
And don't put sugar in the cornbread either. That is not of God. Sugar in the cornbread is CAKE. When you bite into cornbread, it's supposed to suck 90% of the moisture out of your body.
Put the sugar in the TEA! That's where it goes! Not that pink stuff - it causes cancer. I tell ya, I like my tea so sweet, if you run out of syrup, you can pour it over your pancakes.
[I was told I needed to cut white sugar and spices out of my diet for a month. Can you tell I'm a little bored with food right now? Also, I can't seem to cook sweet potatoes, hence this post.]
| | |
| more thoughts on MJDo you ever go on YouTube looking for something... and get completely sucked in? Yyyyyyeah. Happened to me this evening. I think I did actually start out looking for something about Michael Jackson... but it turned in to a multiple-hour long venture.
I remember hearing about the trial. I remember what the accusations were. I remember thinking he was a little weird. But like I said a few days ago, I wasn't a "fan." I didn't listen to his music and I'd never looked up any interviews or anything like that. I didn't even read the news... literally all I had was word of mouth.
So tonight I watched interviews. I saw his statement. I watched the special that somebody did on his life at one point. I heard what he had to say about passion and love and music and dance and making a positive impact on the world. He's known for spending time with kids... but do you know how much time he spent in hospitals simply helping and encouraging sick children? In a world where adults are obnoxious and overwhelming and accusatory of the famous, I'd want to spend my time with people who aren't as high maintenance, too! So not that it matters... but I believe him. I think he was tragically misunderstood. Maybe what he did was foolish sometimes, but that doesn't imply anything about his intentions. That sort of thing happens to me... all too often. I'm constantly doing and saying stuff that I only realize afterward how awful it sounds or comes across.
 But he loved music. I mean, granted, this is assuming I believe what he said... maybe I'm a sucker, but I do, so we're gonna roll with it. Some people just come across as full of bs... I dunno, he seemed too honest to me for it all to be an act. The way he talked about how he loved to dance and how he wasn't even nervous but just excited to do shows that made people happy and how it gave him such joy to see people imitating him because it showed that he gave them joy too. It makes me sad, knowing how many people who choose to assume the worst about him. In the end, regardless of his intentions, they miss out on the message he was at least verbalizing - that whatever your passion is, it's a great thing to be shared and enjoyed wholeheartedly. Especially if it's music, since it translates universally.
Here's my point: he was a musical artist. He knew what he loved and he did it. Yeah, he got paid a buttload of money for it... but who's to say that's not solely because he lacked the fear to TRY that most of us have?
Do you know what you love? Are you doing it? Are you reaping the benefits of seeing other people take joy in the talents that you have?
I'm kinda feeling inspired. needz 2 git off compootr.
| | |
| Self-ControlI think the name is misleading. To say someone needs to practice self-control in a situation with a disgruntled individual would easily be interpreted as, "Act like you're not mad." Or "Act like you're not constantly thinking about sweets." Or "Act like you really care about that person."
What does that accomplish but a reinforced facade?
Okay, sure, when it comes to treating other people with respect, sometimes a facade is what will serve them best. But the same Person who told us that "self-control" was a "fruit of the Spirit" was constantly emphasizing that it is our motivations that matter in what we do, and not so much the actions that we take.
This idea just came to me this evening as I was driving. I don't practice road rage - honking my horn, cutting people off, flipping the finger. But I do feel it inside sometimes. I think it's good not to act on those feelings... it's a good start... but it's not a satisfying finish, y'know?
So what to do? It's so much more complicated than "Don't act this way." It's not enough to act self-controlled... I don't think that's the point. You have to be prepared to love. You have to actually not idolize food. You have to already be anxious to forgive the people who treat you thoughtlessly while on the road.
"You may ask, 'How did this tradition get started?' I'll tell you! ......I don't know. But it's a tradition! And because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do."
I really enjoy Fiddler on the Roof. And contrary to what my dear friend Willy will protest, the movie is just almost exactly the same as the show, so I like both the play and the film. But it's startling to think about how much of that theme of tradition runs just as strongly through Christianity as it does through Judaism. Why do you say it's wrong to play pool? Card games? Have wine at dinner? Wear shorts? Wear jeans to church? There is nothing wrong with any of those things in and of themselves. Granted, there are always exceptions, like for the sake of the weaker brother, jeans are not appropriate in some churches. And why? Because they are wrapped up in tradition. "Church" is not the people of God but a formal event.
I bring that up to emphasize the fact that, in this sense, Christianity is not easy. You can't hop on for the ride and check your brain at the door. You have to be engaged. You have to think. Your mind has to be involved in order to say "God loves that person" instead of sitting pissed off in your car because they kept you from making it through the light.
| | |
|
|
