Lotteries, sweepstakes and contests all have one common thread - the people who win them are delirious with glee. And the people who lose them walk away with a vague sense of unease as to why THEY were not the big winner.
Sort of an odd aside to life, we fill in entry forms, go online and click for our chance to win the big bucks or buy lotto tickets out of state or at an out of the way convenience store where no one we know is likely to see our secret, guilty pleasure.
Rationalizing our behavior by telling ourselves 'somebody wins, it might as well be me', we forget that often the people who win are not anyone we know. Sometimes, the winners have hard luck befall them because they won.
How many mega millions winners still have the bulk of their winnings a year later? Two years? Five? Ten?
It doesn't prevent us from entering because we WOULD be different! WE would be responsible and philanthropic!
Not.
Good intentions would fly right out the window without a cool headed voice reminding us of the good we would be able to do for those other people in the world who vanished the moment we found out we were the big winners.
But then again, being too philanthropic can blow through your wad of cash, too. People who are good at spinning a yarn can take your fillings right out of your eye teeth while they are talking to you and you won't notice the loss until later. They are that good at getting the money they don't have to work for.
All of that notwithstanding, we still want to win. Whether it's concert tickets or a new Yugo, we want to win it, whatever "it" is.
I wonder sometimes if that is really winning...to win something you really don't want, need or can't use.
Just random thoughts today after breakfast...
January 8, 2009
January 6, 2009
Deep thinking and deep knee bends
Well...it's a deep subject.
How does a person determine how deep their thoughts are?
Most of the time, I confess to being only skin deep and less than multiple layers of tissue at that.
Once in a rare while, I dive into deeper waters to feel around for the topics of greater thought. But I am afraid of deep water by and large.
Although I swim, I am not confident, and I think that hesitancy to plunge into topics of great emotional depth is both cowardice and protection.
My grandmother used to tell her children, "Don't go near the water until you learn to swim!" I don't believe it was intended to be a humorous aphorism, but rather a vocal expression of her fear of getting in over her head and not being able to save herself. And a fear that her children would likewise be tossed in the waves of life and lost.
Sometimes, I am afraid to be more accountable for understanding which in and of itself is damning because I know I am running from the light.
Sometimes it is more scary to step into the light than it is to stand in the near shadows. I fear my own lightness and presence of the light. What if, in that banquet of light and knowledge I am not enough?
What if, as the light distills, it discovers the spotty, tattered reality of my robe and instead of being the glorious white beyond description, it is revealed for the stained and imperfect garment that it truly is?
How can I manage to get through that pain?
Momma told me that some of the wisest people she knew had some of the most tired and worn out knees she had ever seen. They were always involved in deep knee bends that kept them bowed down before the weight of life.
They exercised the options and spent time away from the life that could be thrust upon them as circumstance, and instead worked tirelessly on bended knee to be lifted from their circumstance and into a glorious light that they had no way of earning on their own.
Much of who we are as individuals cannot be claimed as a self-done job. It's not possible. And though people who are accomplished can certainly take some of the credit, they are not any of them self starters.
There is no such thing.
To keep moving after someone has started the ball rolling through personal inertia is a choice.
Most of us through starts and fits and explosions of the boiler move along through life. Sometimes, another person grants us a boon that lifts us far beyond our abilities and moves us along the path in a greater measure than we could possibly have earned or even deserve.
Within our relationships, we either seek out people who make us better, or, in an attempt to hide the light within, we seek easy relationships that require no growth and in exchange, they rob us of all that is worth living.
I don't know if any of this makes any sense. Sometimes, life doesn't make sense to me at all. But I do like this quote by Nelson Mandela, whom I believe to be a man of great stature in his understanding of life's complexities and circumstances:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us, it is within everyone! As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
How does a person determine how deep their thoughts are?
Most of the time, I confess to being only skin deep and less than multiple layers of tissue at that.
Once in a rare while, I dive into deeper waters to feel around for the topics of greater thought. But I am afraid of deep water by and large.
Although I swim, I am not confident, and I think that hesitancy to plunge into topics of great emotional depth is both cowardice and protection.
My grandmother used to tell her children, "Don't go near the water until you learn to swim!" I don't believe it was intended to be a humorous aphorism, but rather a vocal expression of her fear of getting in over her head and not being able to save herself. And a fear that her children would likewise be tossed in the waves of life and lost.
Sometimes, I am afraid to be more accountable for understanding which in and of itself is damning because I know I am running from the light.
Sometimes it is more scary to step into the light than it is to stand in the near shadows. I fear my own lightness and presence of the light. What if, in that banquet of light and knowledge I am not enough?
What if, as the light distills, it discovers the spotty, tattered reality of my robe and instead of being the glorious white beyond description, it is revealed for the stained and imperfect garment that it truly is?
How can I manage to get through that pain?
Momma told me that some of the wisest people she knew had some of the most tired and worn out knees she had ever seen. They were always involved in deep knee bends that kept them bowed down before the weight of life.
They exercised the options and spent time away from the life that could be thrust upon them as circumstance, and instead worked tirelessly on bended knee to be lifted from their circumstance and into a glorious light that they had no way of earning on their own.
Much of who we are as individuals cannot be claimed as a self-done job. It's not possible. And though people who are accomplished can certainly take some of the credit, they are not any of them self starters.
There is no such thing.
To keep moving after someone has started the ball rolling through personal inertia is a choice.
Most of us through starts and fits and explosions of the boiler move along through life. Sometimes, another person grants us a boon that lifts us far beyond our abilities and moves us along the path in a greater measure than we could possibly have earned or even deserve.
Within our relationships, we either seek out people who make us better, or, in an attempt to hide the light within, we seek easy relationships that require no growth and in exchange, they rob us of all that is worth living.
I don't know if any of this makes any sense. Sometimes, life doesn't make sense to me at all. But I do like this quote by Nelson Mandela, whom I believe to be a man of great stature in his understanding of life's complexities and circumstances:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us, it is within everyone! As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
January 2, 2009
I am a Dog Person
I love all animals.
I love some more than others, that is simply a fact.
But when I think about all of the animals who have walked through a portion of my life, though I have enjoyed the company of a variety - dogs speak to my heart.
I love the soulful look in their deep eyes that look at me and attempt to reassure me through the times of my life where I'm not even sure I need the comfort - but they know.
The devoted companionship of a gentle soul that greets me as if I am the best thing in the day is a warm tribute to a very flawed person who lacks most of the skills that are socially useful or acceptable.
But to my dog, I am a hero simply by inviting her up onto the bed beside me for hugs and kisses before she goes to her sleeping spot at night.
She works herself into a virtual frenzy of sniffing and circling my legs when I have been out in the world without her to accompany me.
She knows when I come in with the groceries that I have bought her some and won't leave the kitchen until she sees her food safely placed into her cabinet.
My dog isn't just a dog. She is a friend who sits with me and listens heart to heart and knows how to make my day better.
She is able to be wildly and brilliantly excited about every single walk even though we follow the same paths. It's like everything is a blessing to her.
I need to be more like my dog.
I need to appreciate the people I love and be joyful at their coming, sad at their departure and ecstatic upon their return from even the shortest of errands.
I am a dog person because the dogs of the world love me without even knowing me. I don't know why this is my blessing. All I know is that I am thankful for the company.
I love some more than others, that is simply a fact.
But when I think about all of the animals who have walked through a portion of my life, though I have enjoyed the company of a variety - dogs speak to my heart.
I love the soulful look in their deep eyes that look at me and attempt to reassure me through the times of my life where I'm not even sure I need the comfort - but they know.
The devoted companionship of a gentle soul that greets me as if I am the best thing in the day is a warm tribute to a very flawed person who lacks most of the skills that are socially useful or acceptable.
But to my dog, I am a hero simply by inviting her up onto the bed beside me for hugs and kisses before she goes to her sleeping spot at night.
She works herself into a virtual frenzy of sniffing and circling my legs when I have been out in the world without her to accompany me.
She knows when I come in with the groceries that I have bought her some and won't leave the kitchen until she sees her food safely placed into her cabinet.
My dog isn't just a dog. She is a friend who sits with me and listens heart to heart and knows how to make my day better.
She is able to be wildly and brilliantly excited about every single walk even though we follow the same paths. It's like everything is a blessing to her.
I need to be more like my dog.
I need to appreciate the people I love and be joyful at their coming, sad at their departure and ecstatic upon their return from even the shortest of errands.
I am a dog person because the dogs of the world love me without even knowing me. I don't know why this is my blessing. All I know is that I am thankful for the company.
December 29, 2008
The Checkbook is Empty
My congressional district needs a boondoggle.
My senate district needs a bloated pork bill to pass.
My house district could use a few inflated infrastructure bills to help us out.
And by us, I mean ME.
My checkbook is woefully thin and I could use a cash infusion to help me be all I can be, all I want to be, all I imagined I could be and a few all I could's that haven't even crossed my mind.
California, the state of excess, is asking us in the hailstone and sarsaparilla belt to give them OUR tax dollars to build a high speed commuter train that "everyone" wants, but which no one will use. It isn't chic to ride the bus or the train!
Paris Hilton and her purse puppy will NOT be the spokes lifeforms for public transportation.
Chances are, Miss Hilton does not wish to sit by F-Dog and the Home Patrol while she attempts to cover her delicate nostrils with a perfume scented hankie.
That would be unacceptable.
And chances are F-Dog and the Home Patrol won't want to ride the public transports, because to do so means they don't have 'the power' to control their mode of transportation and hence the violence and the get-away.
It isn't rad, hip, cool, or dope to wait for the 5:15 cross town bus to escape from bustin' a cap in someones ass. No self respecting banger does that. Ever.
And while I am all 'gangster' and fully knowledgeable about gang activity (NOT!)...I know they won't be riding the Metro flashing gang signs at the opposing turf lords and politely waiting for the ding at the next stop before pulling out a semiautomatic and letting rip their dogs of war. (And yes, I realize the phrase is 'gangsta'...)
High dollar businessmen looking to seal a deal with 'the man' aren't going to ride on the high speed train to nowhere, they could possible drop a call on a multi-million dollar deal and lose big time.
So who will be funding the continued operation of this "necessary" transport.
Grandma.
Yep. Toothless and smelling faintly of wintergreen Ben-Gay, Jergens hand lotion and Dentu-Creme, Grandma will be riding the train all the time.
With her stockings rolled down to just below the bend of her knee, her hairnet firmly in place and secured with a couple of strategic bobby pins, Grandma is the target demographic with the disposable income needed to keep the S-Bahn of California in operation.
Cool people don't ride public transportation.
Cool people drive Ferrari's.
Famous people don't queue up at the bus stop. They are queued up to... by the paparazzi, the gullible and the naive who are willing to believe that somehow, their lack of responsibility deserves rewarding by billions of the tax dollars from people in Nebraska, South Dakota and Alabama.
So when are the good people of the sunkissed state of California going to help MY state and MY needs?
I'd like to have the benefit of their motion picture money flowing towards my state. Can't we prorate it? Afterall, slack-jawed, tobacco chewing, cousin marrying, pregnant at the alter Alabamians watch the movies they make. Doesn't that make us ENTITLED to a bailout?
Come to think of it, our participation in the world market as a whole should entitle us to a great deal.
The more I think about it the more I believe we have supported the economy of the rich for too long.
I declare today the start of a new market.
Today, those with empty checkbooks despite the hardwork of spouse, live-in's and hanger's on from the Dairy Dip are now going to get what they have only seen on the silver screen.
Cooter and Rufus will be issued one of the cars belonging to the rich and famous. Everyone knows when you are rich you have a stable full of cars, horses, llamas, women, whatever.
And if you are rich you will share willingly under President Obama's trickle down economic plan to help the disadvantaged in Alabama.
I'll just sit here with my checkbook open and wait for the numbers to change. While I'm waitin' -anybody want a fudgesicle?
My senate district needs a bloated pork bill to pass.
My house district could use a few inflated infrastructure bills to help us out.
And by us, I mean ME.
My checkbook is woefully thin and I could use a cash infusion to help me be all I can be, all I want to be, all I imagined I could be and a few all I could's that haven't even crossed my mind.
California, the state of excess, is asking us in the hailstone and sarsaparilla belt to give them OUR tax dollars to build a high speed commuter train that "everyone" wants, but which no one will use. It isn't chic to ride the bus or the train!
Paris Hilton and her purse puppy will NOT be the spokes lifeforms for public transportation.
Chances are, Miss Hilton does not wish to sit by F-Dog and the Home Patrol while she attempts to cover her delicate nostrils with a perfume scented hankie.
That would be unacceptable.
And chances are F-Dog and the Home Patrol won't want to ride the public transports, because to do so means they don't have 'the power' to control their mode of transportation and hence the violence and the get-away.
It isn't rad, hip, cool, or dope to wait for the 5:15 cross town bus to escape from bustin' a cap in someones ass. No self respecting banger does that. Ever.
And while I am all 'gangster' and fully knowledgeable about gang activity (NOT!)...I know they won't be riding the Metro flashing gang signs at the opposing turf lords and politely waiting for the ding at the next stop before pulling out a semiautomatic and letting rip their dogs of war. (And yes, I realize the phrase is 'gangsta'...)
High dollar businessmen looking to seal a deal with 'the man' aren't going to ride on the high speed train to nowhere, they could possible drop a call on a multi-million dollar deal and lose big time.
So who will be funding the continued operation of this "necessary" transport.
Grandma.
Yep. Toothless and smelling faintly of wintergreen Ben-Gay, Jergens hand lotion and Dentu-Creme, Grandma will be riding the train all the time.
With her stockings rolled down to just below the bend of her knee, her hairnet firmly in place and secured with a couple of strategic bobby pins, Grandma is the target demographic with the disposable income needed to keep the S-Bahn of California in operation.
Cool people don't ride public transportation.
Cool people drive Ferrari's.
Famous people don't queue up at the bus stop. They are queued up to... by the paparazzi, the gullible and the naive who are willing to believe that somehow, their lack of responsibility deserves rewarding by billions of the tax dollars from people in Nebraska, South Dakota and Alabama.
So when are the good people of the sunkissed state of California going to help MY state and MY needs?
I'd like to have the benefit of their motion picture money flowing towards my state. Can't we prorate it? Afterall, slack-jawed, tobacco chewing, cousin marrying, pregnant at the alter Alabamians watch the movies they make. Doesn't that make us ENTITLED to a bailout?
Come to think of it, our participation in the world market as a whole should entitle us to a great deal.
The more I think about it the more I believe we have supported the economy of the rich for too long.
I declare today the start of a new market.
Today, those with empty checkbooks despite the hardwork of spouse, live-in's and hanger's on from the Dairy Dip are now going to get what they have only seen on the silver screen.
Cooter and Rufus will be issued one of the cars belonging to the rich and famous. Everyone knows when you are rich you have a stable full of cars, horses, llamas, women, whatever.
And if you are rich you will share willingly under President Obama's trickle down economic plan to help the disadvantaged in Alabama.
I'll just sit here with my checkbook open and wait for the numbers to change. While I'm waitin' -anybody want a fudgesicle?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)