{"id":2,"date":"2019-01-30T12:22:04","date_gmt":"2019-01-30T12:22:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/us6.siteground.us\/~bigworl4\/wonderfulbydesign.com\/?page_id=2"},"modified":"2025-11-30T09:16:23","modified_gmt":"2025-11-30T15:16:23","slug":"new-page","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/wonderfulbydesign.com\/2026\/new-page\/","title":{"rendered":"Stream of Unconscious exercises. 2019"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Day 2- Childhood<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
Actually this is not a simple task for me. I tend to ramble. Maybe I just dream too much, getting lost in the maze of my thoughts. All too often, the best thing about the present is the future or the past, which is a curious irony. Not that the present is unpleasant or unsatisfactory; in fact, I am generally quite pleased with the present. I love the present\u2014the warmth of the sun on my face, the laughter of friends, the sweetness of a quiet moment. The problem is it is already gone the moment we realize it’s here, slipping through our fingers like grains of sand. The joke ends in one line, but the laughter can last for hours\u2014a deep, resounding echo that fills the air, laughing at laughing. All my big victories have not really been finishes; they feel more like stepping stones. Graduation from nursing school was huge, getting my Masters degree was huge, and though those moments brought incredible satisfaction, they were hardly the culmination of anything definitive. Of course, there was a great feeling, an overwhelming sense of achievement, but really there was little doubt it would come eventually, at least after the halfway mark, when everything began to feel more attainable. At the same time, both achievements meant I needed to use my new knowledge, to step into the world and apply what I had learned, which is a thrilling yet daunting prospect. Great fun, excitement, and pressure accompanied this journey; victory was not assured, not in the clean and tidy sense that one might hope for. My wedding was a victory, a far greater event, double huge, symbolizing a new chapter in life. Pure joy! Hardly a finish, more a beginning of a different kind of journey. A victory without an opponent, except maybe time, or myself, always the most formidable contender. I imagine the birth of our daughters seemed like quite a finish for my wife\u2014no more freedom, a bittersweet transition\u2014but yet we are far from finished with them, as parenting unveils an ever-evolving adventure.
Finishing things has always been difficult for me, just look at my house, where unfinished projects linger like ghosts in the corners, reminders of my scattered focus. Some days, I forget to finish shaving, a comical yet profound reflection of my tendency to move from one task to another without ever truly completing them. Maybe that is what attracted me to pottery\u2014a medium where creation and imperfection coexist. I can throw a pot in a matter of a few minutes or even seconds, depending on the size, feeling the clay mold itself around my hands. With a bigger piece, it is slow-motion excitement; the anticipation builds with each carefully calculated motion, and tiny adjustments can completely change the form in an instant. Rarely can an unwanted change be corrected, which adds a layer of thrill to the process. But when it blooms out of a pull of the wrist or a pinched finger, it really is crazy good, a surge of creative energy. But it\u2019s far from done, of course. There is still shaping, trimming, carving, shaping again, drying a little more with each step. Finely painting and glazing follow, layers of beauty unfolding with every brush stroke. The opening of the kiln is a moment of pure exhilaration. That is great. That is finished. What you see is new, never before, never sure, at least not with me. I know some potters can make the same plate or cup every time; art fairs are full of them, and God bless them\u2014that is without a doubt a great skill and proof of their knowledge and command of the craft. I seek the unknown in everything I make, yearning for discovery in each creation. The only times I have tried to copy something I made before were moments when I was not sure how I did it and was pretty sure I could not do it again. I have gotten close, and even when the kiln is opened and success is in my hands, I am still left looking for a home for my new piece, a place where it will be appreciated. Maybe the best feeling of finished is moving house, an adventure filled with a whirlwind of emotions. When the last item is out and the keys are handed off, a sense of resolution washes over me. To enter again would end in a call to 911; I have sealed that chapter shut.
The move-in has the same quality but in reverse, an exhilarating yet daunting experience. The last stroke of paint pulling off the masking tape, pushing the couch against the wall, and breaking down the empty boxes serves as a satisfying completion of one phase. The move is finished, Ah, a deep breath taken amidst the chaos. An unknown future ahead in the new home beckons, full of potential and opportunity, but finished with the move itself. I guess a published book would have that same sense of adventure and accomplishment, representing not just the end of a project but the beginning of a conversation with the world, waiting to see how it will resonate with others.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Childhood was a gas, is a gas. Not just fun, flatulence, one big fart. A huge wave of laughter and disgust. My grandfather had a big old pick-up truck with one flat slippery, shiny, hard, torn vinyl bench. It made tons of noise from the moment you pulled the door handle, partly because you had really yank it out. I had to jump on the step pull on the handle and jump back to the ground to flip the latch. We would bounce down the street laughing, gram-pa was always laughing unless he was telling a joke and he needed to act mad. Or he was silent and that meant he was going to fart. For me it was pure bliss. He was the only adult I knew who was proud of his farts. I loved him more than anyone in the whole world. He lived in a small central valley farm town, the smells were huge. Back then even the president didn\u2019t have AC in his car. We drove around with the windows in the 100 degree heat. There was a tomato field at the end of the block. Before we even got to the end of the street the whole world smelled like a tomato plant. Not at all like San Francisco. San Francisco smelled like fog and something a lot worse than my gram-pa\u2019s farts when we walked by the guys that slept on the sidewalk downtown. Looking back I guess I have always been a dog. Sniffing stuff and sticking my head out the windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember \nthe smell of water in the tomato fields too, like it was going to rain, \nbut no clouds and 100 degrees. Cotton candy, the smell of burnt sugar, \noranges and grapefruit, he had a cactus garden too. Some had big \nneedles they hurt when you touched them, but it stopped when took your \nfinger away. Others had tiny needles. They looked soft and didn\u2019t \nreally hurt when you touched them expect the stuck into you, so when you\n pulled away they when with you and when you tried to rub the off or \ntouch something else it hurt pretty bad. I loved touching the big \nneedles, I hated the the little ones. Playing tag meant running between\n the cactus garden and the orange trees. In the 100 degree heat. I \nloved the heat. I still do. Now my kids ask me to plant orange trees \nand pomegranate trees. I tell them they don\u2019t like the 30 degrees below\n zero temperatures we have. They don\u2019t seem to understand and look a \nbit disappointed, even sad. Then I fart, if I can and they laugh with \njoy. I feel the 100 degrees and smell the tomatoes so much. I feel the\n tears and I chase them around the backyard and tell them I am going \nfart on them again. The humor or potty humor is the purest human humors,\n maybe because we all experience it for the first time with the ones we \nloved the most and first. As long a humans fart my gram-pa lives. \nYours too.\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nSo this could be the shortest piece yet if it weren\u2019t for the 500 word \nthing. Someone once described me as \u201ca person who didn\u2019t even know what\n I didn\u2019t know\u201d. To which I responded, \u201cI don\u2019t understand\u201d. Honestly \nit made me quite mad at first and then it made me quite scared. What if\n she was right. I then I decided that she just didn\u2019t know me very well\n and she needed a reason to create distance between us. It worked, that\n was the last time we saw each other. I imagine she has passed away by \nnow, RIP.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Since that day I have been resolved to always declare \nthat “I know nothing”, like Senior Master Sergeant Hans Georg Schultz. \nWhile this has relieved some of my internal pressure to know things it \nhas not been a high performance job interview technique. Thank God for \nall the jobs he has given me without interviews. Once hired I do well, I\n love to solve problems, look for new solutions, use materials at hand \nrather than buy new ones. I am good at smiling even when others \naren\u2019t(this can be a bit dicey at times, but works about 60% of the \ntime) Anyways I am not writing about ignorance today, for a change. \nToday my topic is fear. Yesterday I read that we think fear of failing \ninhibits our dreams, but in fact the problem is fear of succeeding. The\n logic being that if we fail in a new dream path, we stay where we are. \n Where we are is what we know, expect in my case because I don\u2019t \nanything. If we take the steps we know toward our dream then we will \narrive at a new place, if we dream about a new place. A place we don\u2019t \nknow and a scary place maybe. This scared me a little. Personally I \nkind of like fear, pain not so much, but fear is exciting. I like \nsuccess even more than fear, see pain statement. Generally I am even \ngood with change without success, provided pain statement remains true. \n This may help explain the last 50 years, of my life and quite possibly \nthe last 2000 years of mankind. On the scale of eternity both time \nperiods are equal, however success and the non existence are not equal \nother than in the shortest of time scales. In all fairness to \nmyself and mankind we have had many instances of great success, lets not\n get into the points of pain here. All the same I do believe we can do \nbetter. We must do better. Part of doing better may be in seeing the \npain of the present state, thus pushing us toward a better dream. This \nmight explain the high degree of negativity in politics today. Or it \ncould just be that our political system is just very negative. As stated\n previously, I know nothing and avoid pain. I think the solution lies\n more in the dream, of the unknown or the known. A person who grows up \nseeing their parents and people around them living a certain way an \ndream of that future for themselves with much less fear than a person \nwho has only seen others from an untouchable distance live that way. \nWhy is the lottery so popular? All the fun of the dream without the \npesky fear of change. And when is change the most fearful? When we are\n not sure of ourselves. We need to have our foundation of who we are \nsolid. With a good foundation we will express our good in the change. \nWith a foundation of \u201cbad\u201d (you define that as you will) we will express\n this in the change. Sorry about returning to politics again. \nThankfully something I know so little about, although that is such a \nvast area. Unfortunately I am afraid politics has become so corrupted\n because so many of the good people have jumped in, got burned and \njumped out. And we need to correct this.\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Day 3 – Give your own eulogy <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nHe never passed up the chance to may people laugh even if it meant causing them to think. A person so insignificant that his greatest achievement was the smile on someone else\u2019s face. If there is one thing I remember about him, he would probably not want me to say it. His life was one long one liner. His death, a welcome break for everyone. He never seemed to fear death, it was life that drove him crazy. And so it might go on forever. Truth is a smile is probably my biggest achievement. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not\n the smile of passing gas or a well placed finger under a rib or toe. \nWhat I really love are the smiles that come when we unwrap some little \nor big truth about ourselves that we have been hiding from or \nsuppressing. A truth that maybe we have already discovered in ourselves\n before and were not pleased. Those big truths that may have pissed us \noff or made us hate that in ourselves or that we contributed to it in \nsomeone else. (God knows these are no big problems or faults within \nourselves.) I love it when it happens to me, whether it comes from my \nown mental drifting or waves thrown up against the side of my boat by \nsomeone else. I wouldn\u2019t be the man I am today without the help of \nothers, in fact I might still be alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Clearly death is a \nreality we can not escape, otherwise there would not be a word for it in\n every language known to mankind. Take the word Unicorn, not every \nculture has unicorns. Thank God I was born in a land that has \nunicorns. And thank unicorns I was born into a family that had God. At\n different times in my life there have been people I didn\u2019t like or was \nnot happy with and in all honesty I was probably rather displeased with \nGod at times too. The greatest personal event for me was the day I met \nGod face to face, although He was a bit unGodly looking so what I saw \nwas probably not God. However the voice and the following discussion \nwas most certainly God. To those who might say I was just hearing my \nown ego, I saw then that makes me God so take my word for it. I had \nalways felt I was more than a rock or a multicellular organism. Today I\n guess I am just dust again, but I was and I am more than that. It is a\n wonderful thing to love and be loved. Some one had to start the love, \nlove needs a point of view to start and love needs another point to \nlove. God is both. Love doesn\u2019t end with death. My grandparents are \ndead, my love for them, our love for them is not. My hate for people \nis. Hate does die, if you let it. The day I really met God I let go of\n hate. Yes it has crept back into my world monetarily a couple times, \nbut what a great thing it was when I let it go again. A powerful \nreminder of God and Love again. The smiles of others were my greatest \nachievement, without a doubt. My biggest smile and longest lasting \nexperiencing the eternal love of God. We are waiting for you, but no \nneed to hurry!\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Work<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have many different jobs probably the 2 best were as a ski \nPatroller at lake Tahoe and as a nurse at the San Francisco VA. One was\n getting up to the top of the mountain for sunrise before there were \ntracks in the snow and the only sounds were the wind and birds. The \nother was answering a call light of a person facing their own personal \nbattle with life and death, or just a bed pan. Very different from each\n other and yet if I could back to either one I would feel excited and \nblessed. The hardest part would be picking which one. Ideally I would \ndo some form of half and half. But that was in another time, another \nlife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now my dream job would be to do nursing half time and stand\n up comedy half time. Maybe I should say sit down comedy, standing up \ncan get old pretty quick and since I am clarifying things it might be \nbetter just to say speaking, comedy is too much pressure. I think I am \nfunny, but I can\u2019t afford my own tickets and anyone who could afford the\n tickets would not find me funny at all. I will need a business agent. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
More\n seriously I do like comedy, but not pointless humor. I mean laughing \nis never worthless, there is always a therapeutic effect for the person \nlaughing, but I really want to see people reflect on themselves in a new\n way. They can even reflect on people like me in a new way as long as \nits non violent reflection. I find great joy in seeing people laugh at \nold pain, when I was younger I enjoyed seeing them laugh a younger \npain. Not that laughing is the only way to gain insight or grow as a \nperson, crying and sadness can not be avoided or hidden, I am just a fan\n of laughter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
So my job is to think, write, speak and listen. Always has been, always will be. Its not in my job description as clearly as that, mostly it mentions bedpans and other secretions, etc. Secretions are important, even once my speaking and writing demands require more time and travel I will still keep my hand in secretions. They are a part of life and part of my identity as a nurse and parent. I could continue as I am with the bulk of my time spent with only local secretions of a few individuals, but I love the idea of helping other people get involved with other people\u2019s secretions. It is through close contact with people\u2019s heart\u2019s and lives that we know each other and ourselves. We tend to see our definition of secretions change as we age. Likewise our concept of love and life can be a bit fluid at times too. Seeing love and life through the eyes of God has been a good experience for me. Seeing life through the eyes of someone else seeing life and themselves through the eyes of God is just as great. This is my dream work. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nDisappointment <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of the aspects of humans I find interesting is our memory. Of course when I say \u201cwe\u201d I can not truly speak for all humans, but only my own experience. It may seem silly to say this, but I am not an expert in memory, even my own memory often escapes me at times. Disappointment can be a very strong memory, it can be brutal and consuming but its not like physical pain. Physical pain is sharp, I can go back to the time I broke my ankle and see myself in pain, see my ankle looking like a grapefruit and yet the pain is not really there. I could remember this pain while running, if I were every to run (a highly unlikely event), I could keep running right through the remembering. Disappointment is really quite different. If I were to remember any of my biggest disappointments I would probably need to stop running. My father was very sick before I was born so he was never a big part of my life. I met him again when I was in my early 20\u2019s it was really weird to say the least, but really great too. It was a time in my life when family was not a very important part of my life. My friends were my family. So I only went to see my father a couple times a year. As we got to know each other, or at least as I got to know him. He had severe limitations with memory and reality. Coming from a person like me indicates a serious problem. where was I? After the second or third visit I dreamed of taking him to Disneyland one day. This is the kind of person I was back then. My idea of a good time was to take a person with a fragile grasp on the shared public reality of the time to a location with a shared public unreality. I don\u2019t think it was mean spirited, I wanted him to experience the pure joy of amazing fantasy in living color right before your eyes, like a small child. It didn\u2019t happen. I kept putting it off. There was always another crazy unreality event I wanted to go to. Some other project I wanted to work on. Maybe I was just afraid getting that close to him. He was living in a group home as a ward of the state. He seemed happy, it was a nice, place from what I could tell. At the same time I couldn\u2019t help thinking he should be cared for by his family. It would have been a life changer for me. No doubt the state would have some concerns releasing him to me as a crazed 20 something. Who knows I might have needed to kidnap him, ala \u201cRainman\u201d or \u201cOne Flew Over The Cuckoo\u2019s nest\u201d. For whatever reasons we didn\u2019t go. The day my uncle called to tell me he passed away the feeling of disappointment was huge and heavy. We never got to Disneyland. I have been with other family, nothing traumatic or overly thrilling. Mostly a feeling of waiting in line. Maybe the reality of the day or a manifestation of my sense of waiting to go with my father. With disappointment, the pain may not be as sharp a memory as a broken bone, but it can be a deep and broad ache. For me it is the type of pain that allows me to keep running and in fact seems to push me to run faster and farther to build happiness to repaint the past with a better color. I may not take my kids to Disneyland but I will not wait to take them to crazy unreality together. We will not be disappointed! <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Travel<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nMost of the travel I have done, do these days and will likely do in the \nfuture takes place in my head, or mind or heart\u2026.kind of like most of my\n wealth. No this is not going to be about reading, although I am a firm\n believer in the value of reading, other than what I write. I will only\n believe in the value of reading what I write until after someone has \ntold me it has value. Until that point the value of what I write is \nonly in me writing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In a way I came to feel the same about \ntraveling. I took to amazing trips to Mexico. The first trip was in a \n$500 beat up mini station wagon. With a old beat up Sesame Street Bert \ndoll tied to the roof rack. We started in Santa Cruz California. I \nlove the idea of starting every voyage at the cross. My best friend and\n 2 other girls, one breast feeding her 6 month old baby and me. Brave \ngirls. I would save all 3 girls today, but not sure the 6 month old \nknew enough to fit that title. Anyways it was my first time out of the \ncountry, if you don\u2019t count Canada, back then we didn\u2019t, it was just a \npart of Minnesota, a big part.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Always the careful prudent traveler I pulled off the highway a few miles before the Mexican boarder and stopped in the parking lot of a large shopping mall. I nonchalantly lifted up the branch of a shrubbery, Ever since I watched Mont Python I have wanted to say and write that word as often as possible, and I hid my pipe and herb. 30 minutes later we crossed the boarder into Tijuana. Our car seemed to fit in with the locals almost immediately, except for the doll on the roof. It was pure adventure the whole trip. The car broke down in the middle of nowhere and almost fell on me, but we fixed it and kept heading south. Driving over a mountain pass in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere we passed a car broken down with several guys waving us down. We stopped and helped them and continued on. A few days later we saw them at a little market in the sleepy fishing village where we were. Smiling, pats on the back, not much common language skills between us. Later when we got home I heard the older folks were not happy about the 2 gringo couples living in sin on their beach. Little did they know it was not at all what they thought. Then again who knows what they thought. I do know that there were quite a few sins we were not committing. The girl with the baby did squirt milk at me a few times when she was breast feeding her baby. First time for me, kind of funny and kind of weird, but that was about as close as any of us got to physical intimacy. Mostly we were there to look at the whales, the beach, the cactus and survive an adventure. Like a 4 year old going to the corner for the first time. That\u2019s what travel should be. Go with the eyes and heart of a 4 year old, but practice the manners of a polite 90 year old. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nWrite strong, no adverbs<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I love adverbs. I could use only \nadverbs. Who needs nouns or verbs? Is it possible to be subtle without\n adverbs? While I am not convinced no adverbs makes writing stronger or\n better, it can create focus. It is also difficult. Difficult means \nsomething. Difficult builds character, or Kills it. Why stop with \nadverbs? Lets stop using adjectives. Focus increased. The pure \nmessage. I am. Finished. Difficult and easy. At the same time. Bad \nEnglish. Wait a minute bad English was never the point, just the \nmedium. Who controls, defines good English? That is the point. I have \nno control over English. Good or Bad. Short sentences are key. I was \ntaught this when I was young. When I don\u2019t know what to write I write \nsmall. When I know what to write I force myself to write small. \nWriting big makes me appear small. What I am doing now is not big. Not\n small, just bad. No point, just difficult, so good. This could be a \nlong 500 words. Thankfully 500 words is 500 words. Confusion can \nappear with one word or thousands, but 600 words can not be put inside \n500 words. 500 words puts a limit on reading time, not comprehension \ntime. Unless the 500 words are Chinese then reading time could be \nunlimited because my Chinese is limited. If the 500 words are Egyptian \nthen the reading time has a limit. Zero reading time, just gazing time,\n like a Van Gogh. The difference between a Van Gogh painting and \nhieroglyphics is with Van Gogh I dream of sunflowers. With \nHieroglyphics I dream of Hollywood memories. I think in images. I hear\n voices, but I think in images. No adverbs, but not clear or focused. \nThis is like cooking without oil, salt or sugar. It is not cooking. It\n is cutting raw fruit. I like to cook. It makes me, me. Despite \npeople who call me a fruit or a fruitcake, I am a cook. Understand this\n would all be much more clear with adverbs. Or not. It would taste \nbetter. Lots of kids home yesterday, I guess I just should have \u201cKids home yesterday\u201d its more powerful, sorry I mean \u201cits Powerful\u201d Anyways, I was 150 words short of 500 on this one, lucky my publisher is cool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sorry, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nThe End<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is finished. No more fighting, I don\u2019t mean no more \ncompetition. Competition is good, great. Challenges are great. \nStruggle, opposition and hard work all great! Even anger can be a great \nmotivator. Anger at our self, or some other external problem. The \nproblem with fighting is the mean part, the dishonest part, the part \nthat \u201cmakes\u201d people sell their soul. The part that allows us to cheat \nor lie. Imagine a society that looks down on fighting and arguing in \nthe mean and nasty sense. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Vince Lombardy \u201cWinning isn\u2019t \neverything, its the only thing\u201d attitude is our problem. And how do we \ndefine winning? Cash, power, new toys, when the other person cries. \nGoing to the moon was so much better. We had a goal, we were going to \nmake our goal and we would lose no lives. Yes we lost a few astronauts,\n but we would succeed, it gave us a mission. Sure we wanted to beat the\n Russians, but that was more for fun and bragging rights than out of a \ndesire to be mean and nasty or prove them wrong. Were there some folks \nspying and cheating? Selling our government $4 dollar screwdrivers for \n$4,000? Of course, but the general mood and tone of the people was, \u201cWe\n are going to do this!\u201d. Not by attacking the other guy or by cheating,\n but by working together, using our brains and brawn. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We don\u2019t \nneed a war to rise to our greatest potential. We need to work together \nfor a lofty goal that inspires us. Maybe its why people built the \nVatican and all the Mega churches in the US. Personally I doubt God is \nimpressed or flattered. I am pretty sure God\u2019s preference would be that\n we help feed the hungry, provide care the sick and help the frail and \nvulnerable to grow strong and then help others too. The thing is big \ngoals motivate people and leaders like motivated people. Big churches \nrequire big artists, designers, big lists that require big money and the\n local contractors that collect said money. Not too pick on churches, \ngovernment and business do the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Its the big idea that \ncounts, freedom, clean water, air, food, health, family, education. I \nput \u201cFreedom\u201d first because that is how we are trained in America, but \nthe truth is without the rest freedom is not all its cracked up to be. \nIts the whole package we need to be excited about. In fact the problem \nis that its too easy for too many of us, we already have it. What makes\n it a lofty goal is creating it for everyone. Without war or the mean, \nnasty, paranoid stuff. Just the hard work and teamwork and innovation \npart. When I was teaching at a engineering university I asked the \nstudents why we could go to the moon but not solve the clean water and \nhealth issue of most of the world. Their main answer was because there \nwas no money in it. Like there was money on the moon. They said the \nmoney came from the innovation that was discovered while going to the \nmoon. It isn\u2019t just possible that solving the problems here might \nrequire a few innovations that could be worth something someday?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When cooperation is held up as more beautiful than bling and flash, whether it\u2019s a tower in New York, or a thick gold chain on Rodeo Drive that is when we will have freedom with a capital F <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nWhat makes you afraid? Anxious?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This could get ugly. I am not a \nbig fan of pain, I have had more than my fair share of but emotional and\n physical pain, just look at my scars. Of course \u201cfair share\u201d is a lot \nlike beauty. In any case the idea of either is not a big fear. I know I\n will have plenty more of each in my time to come, or at least expect it\n and I don\u2019t really have a large feeling of either right now, so enjoy. \n The thing that gives me the greatest sense of anxiety is the idea that I\n missed my calling in life. That God put me here for something \nimportant. I imagine what we might have missed if, Lincoln, or Charlie \nChaplin, or Madame Curie, or Lao Tsu had decided to play video games or \ngo swimming and never did what they did (Disclaimer: this is a very \nrandom list, I could just as easily have added Shakespeare, Twain, \nJesus, Buddha, or any of thousands of others). Its comforting to \nimagine that someone else just stepped in and the world never skipped a \nbeat and its not unreasonable in some sense. Who knows maybe all those \nfolks were really second or third choice and the first choices were busy\n polishing doorknobs or something equally important or enthralling. At \nthe same time its just as easy to imagine the world could be much much \nbetter if many other people had stepped up with extra effort on the side\n of love, peace and respect for life and our world. Of course the \nthere is really no evidence that I have any exceptional value on a \nglobal, by todays typical measures. So what I might feel could just be \nmy imagination, ego or need to some sort of external worth. This idea \nis a little freeing but also quite a bit of a disappointment. I like \nthe idea of having value, both for myself and everyone else. Even the \nbirds and the bees. So I prefer to lean toward the idea that we all \nhave huge value and importance, just not always based on completion of a\n certain task or mission. Sort of a parts of the body thing. Clearly \nthe hands do a lot of work, at least some peoples hand do. And the \nmouth gets the joys of the first taste, unless you count smells. But \nwithout certain constricting sphincters the whole thing gets messy in a \nhurry and doesn\u2019t last long. Not that I seek to be the latter, but I \nhave come to understand that I will never understand it all, but I can \npush myself harder to contribute to others. I feel the joy in the right\n little things and add more joy where I can. Pushy people may need to \npush less, I need to watch my desire to be patient and grow and share \nmore. This is that, a small step admittedly, possibly misguided, God \nknows I have a over-sized capacity for that. But it is a step and \nbetter than getting poked with a sharp stick, at least for me anyways.\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nAn embarrassing fact, an awkward truth<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Writing about an \nembarrassing moment is an interesting concept. Like most people I could\n have quite a long list if really allowed myself the time to remember. \n I would prefer to list all the embarrassing moments of friends and \nfamily, but that is not the assignment and would only shrink my social \ncircle further. Moments like these that are more distant are easier to \nexpose. Sure it was embarrassing yesterday when I accused my wife of \nnot putting the scissors back in the kitchen, only to find them on my \ndesk where my alter ego had left them. But moments that unlock real \ninsight and growth are usually rooted a bit deeper in our past. Awkward\n truth that hit us deeply immediately when they happen, are generally \nonly embarrassing when we miss the awkward truth in them. The learning \nand awkward truth comes later\u2026.or never in some cases, which I will \nrefrain from mentioning, again in vain attempt to avoid shrinking my \ncircle of influence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I shall go way back in history and expose\n my awkward truth. No doubt for those of you who have seen pictures of \nme or met me this will shock you, but I used to consider myself very \nugly. Not in the personality sense, that probably wouldn\u2019t shock \nanyone, but really though I was unpleasant to look at, I don\u2019t really \nremember when it started. I remember when I was really little and not \neven thinking how I looked, I was just happy or hungry, ugly was what \nthe duckling was. It was what other people were when they were not nice\n to others. As I said I don\u2019t remember when it crept into my Psyche but\n I do remember a seminal moment when I was in 9th grade and I opened my \nschool photo. All I saw was a nose, huge the size of mount Kilimanjaro.\n And greasy hair, slick and shiny on top, combed over like I was trying\n to hide a bald spot, finishing the trip by sticking out into thin air \nin a wild frizzy mess. All of it highlighted by a white polyester shirt\n with red and blue squares in a random pattern like a Mondrian painting.\n No smile, I was ruined. I never had been much of a ladies man, \ncourtship for me had been throwing a milk at the girl I liked. Once I \nmade a \u201cWanted Dead or Alive\u201d poster. At least that got me a smile, the\n milk was less successful. Anyways after the school photo fiasco I \ndidn\u2019t even bother thinking anyone could be blind enough to consider me,\n if they did it was clearly either a desperate person or there was so \nulterior motive\u2026..<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gradually I got used to myself image and focused on my other problems and the problems of others. I don\u2019t remember the reason it changed, but it was around the time I first made $50, 000. I guess that makes me a true American male. Not sure if others treated me different because of it or if I just started thinking I had real value. It just seems like it happened around then. I do remember the exact moment I realized I was over it. I was writing about myself, or talking about my self image and I said \u201cit seems like my head just swelled up around my nose and made it normal size\u201d. Well I haven\u2019t had time to actually measure the changes in my head to nose ratio, once I retire, but remember thinking I was done with the ugly thing. I am what I am. I understood with that sentence that it was my ego that grew up, not my head. And life has been downhill since then. Don\u2019t let your self fool yourself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Justice <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Justice or freedom, can there be one without \nthe other? Is there a difference? The answer is probably yes and no, \nor no and yes depending on your perspective. It is the perspective \nthing that makes both ideas in practice a illusive prize at times. Take \n\u201cPro-Life\u201d and \u201cPro-Choice\u201d, with such great names to define them how \ncould positive value either even be questioned. Does \u201cAnti-Life\u201d or \n\u201cNo-Choice\u201d sound attractive or make sense? We are created with a \ncapacity for choice, I would even say an essential part of our freedom \nis our right to make choices. We choose who we worship, or not. who we \nlove, or not. What we do for a living. Where we live, or not? Can we \nchoose to live or not? Can we choose whether or not another person can \nlive or not. I would imagine most people can see a space for debate \naround the question can a person take their own life if they no longer \nwant to live. The space changes greatly when we discuss taking the life \nof another person. Justice is very personal and theoretical at the same\n time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have my positions on both camps, they are not so much \npoints of defense as points of todays arrival. I am perfectly willing to\n look at new roads to different camps, but I have spent time exploring \nmany different points in the process of finding where I am today. \n \u201cPro-Life\u201d and \u201cPro-Choice\u201d as they have come to be defined by the \nmedia today and probably the groups who coined the terms are in probably\n in direct opposition, however I choose to see them as much more similar\n when expanded. I am \u201cPro-Life\u201d all life should be nurtured and given \nwhat is needed to grow. Yes from conception a life should be loved. \n The word \u201cshould\u201d is not \u201cmust\u201d. If life must be protected, must might\n imply then it might include killing to protect. While each case can be\n different when we apply our justice individually we are applying our \nchoice. Protect the life of a baby, of an unborn baby, a full grown \nbaby, no Trump jokes please, a full grown baby that has taken the lives \nof other babies unborn or full grown. Personally I have some trouble \nunderstanding the position of protecting all unborn babies and carpet \nbombing other countries, and their babies. I experience the same \nconfusion with the idea that unborn babies require top priority over all\n but born babies don\u2019t require health care, education, or the freedom to\n love the person they feel they love. It would seem the best way to\n protect babies, lives is to support their growth, from conception to \ngrave. Not just delivery and service at their burial but at every step,\n provide freedom to make the right choice, support the \u201cbest decision\u201d \nfor life, theirs, ours, everyone\u2019s. My justice must be your justice \ntoo, but for that to happen we need to talk to each other, listen to \neach other, learn from each other. Without that we have no justice or \nfreedom, only order, or chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I search for a better answer and I believe this is “Our” mission. Not just the search, but the application in life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nWrite in the voice of someone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To write in the voice of \nsomeone else may be the most difficult assignment so far. Lying was far\n more easy. My first thought was to just start quoting politicians, \nlike Madame, Thats my pet name for Hillary. I have heard we shouldn\u2019t \nmention her on the Internet because Goggle sees it and raises her \nranking in the trends. My guess is Goggle will not read my words before\n she is either president or dead, not that I wish either to reach with \nany haste. It would be wonderful if she never experience either, \nalthough with all due respect I do expect her to be unable to avoid the \nlatter. Part of why I am not a supporter of her candidacy is the \nuncomfortable feeling that she seems to feel deep down inside that if \nshe is president she will be able to avoid the latter. No doubt there \nis good in her heart, somewhere, but she reminds me of Caesar more than \nLincoln or any other \u201cGood\u201d president.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Well it seems I have \nalready failed this assignment, these words sound far too much like my \nown voice to be someone else. But are they really \u201cmy\u201d voice? Isn\u2019t my\n voice really the voice of the voice I have heard and remembered? In \nwhich case I would hope you are hearing a little John Steinbeck, Ernest \nHemingway, Maybe a little Kurt Vonnegut, John Irving. If I am really \ndoing well even a little Jesus Christ and Hunter Thompson, but without \nthe foul language or holy insight. More than anything I probably sound \nlike Scott Foresman, the author of the \u201cDick And Jane\u201d series of books. \n These are probably the first books I read in first grade. I don\u2019t \nthink people tried to teach kids to read before kindergarten, or even \nfirst grade. I remember pretty clearly the room I was in and the \nteacher to started teaching us to read and it was first grade. It is \neasy for me to remember because it was the first time an adult had \nwalked up to me and lifted me out of my chair by my ear lobe. It did \nnot feel good and she seemed to be smiling yet she was clearly unhappy. \n In her defense while I was only six years old most likely I was already\n channeling Hunter Thompson, not his prose, just his attitude. Some \ngifts just come naturally to the lucky, the rest of us call them a \ncurse\u2026.until we turn them into cash and influence then we bow and say \nwhat took you so long. I pick up some pearls from Dick and Jane. \n Write simple ideas. Use short sentences. Smile and wear clean \nclothes, even when you don\u2019t want too. Make your mom happy, she makes \ndinner. And pie. When you make a friend, its for life. When you make \nan enemy you have made a future friend otherwise your mom will not make \npie. Dogs are fun, but they cause a lot of trouble. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To this \nday I don\u2019t understand how so many generations of kids learned to read \ngiven we started so late in life. Or why so many kids today have not \ndiscovered the joy of imagining the world in their own minds rather than\n in an electronic devise. What I do remember more than my sore ear was \nhow much fun life was before she pulled my ear and how much more \ncommitted I became to continue having fun while avoiding having my ear \npulled again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I failed in my second goal, but did pretty good with the first. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nWaiting\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For better or worse I have done a lot of waiting, I guess we all have. Right now you are probably waiting for me to get to the point. I could just make a list of all the memorable waiting experiences I have had, or just the worst or the best. Waiting for my kids to be born or my wife to arrive to the church would be good ones. I could make a pretty long list of bad ones I\u2019ll save for a more than 500 words kind of day. One thing I have done many times that day its very nature defines waiting is hitchhiking. There was a time in life, sorry I mean season, when hitchhiking had a very romantic allure to it for me. It symbolized both adventure into the unknown as well as faith in God and my fellow human. It was before the huge media wave of strangers are crazy, don\u2019t talk to people. I grew up walking to school from the age of 5. I don\u2019t know if I ever saw a classmate get picked up from school, unless they were going to the doctor, or maybe from the principle\u2019s office after a fight or something. Like most things I started out with little rides. Waiting for the bus to go home from a friend\u2019s on a Sunday and just stuck out my thumb thinking, if I saved 10 minutes of waiting in the cold what could it hurt. Then when I moved out west I learned about destination thumbing. Like from the ski resort back into town. Evey one was a skier and everyone was leaving either took a right or a left at the highway. You had something in common with the driver, talk about skiing, and skiers don\u2019t murder skier unless they are skiing, its the skier\u2019s code. Then I got a real wild idea. I would fly back for my brother\u2019s wedding and hitchhike back home 10 days later, maybe 3,000 miles. It was a great flight, they still fed, for lack of a better word, you on domestic flights back then. The wedding was fun, got to see some old friends and then day 10 arrived. A friend drive me to a highway on ramp heading south, so with backpack in place I took up my position on the side and waved goodbye. What a crazy feeling I had, thank God it was spring and not winter. I had made a sign. I was going to Tahoe, but being a rather cleaver I had put Des Moines on it. I waited so much on that trip its hard to remember how long I waited for that first ride. Looking back it did seem like a long time, but It was not a huge long time. The first ride got me most of the ways to Des Moines and I made it to Tahoe in 3 days, which was pretty impressive. I did a fair bit more of hiking after that, but it was on that trip that I developed my \u201cHappy Craig\u201d dance. Not much of a dance move really, unless I was cold and there were no cars approaching. It was more of a mantra. I just concentrated on singing to myself and praying to God for a ride. I am \u201cHappy Craig\u201d and I am grateful to God and grateful to you. I will make you glad you picked me up. Everyone loves happy people. I have not hitched in a long time and I am afraid I would not recommend it to my kids today, but the waiting and learning to project both inward and outward happiness is a gift I am forever grateful for and use on a daily basis. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
A Manifesto of Sorts<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then… Viva la Revolution!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOn Earth as it is in Heaven\u201d\n 100\u2019s of millions of people pray it everyday, if not several times a \nday and surely once a week. People who don\u2019t pray for it or even \nbelieve in heaven probably hope for it. I say we need to get busy and \nmake it happen. I ask you, \u201cDo you think you will need money in \nheaven?\u201d Will you need to go to work everyday just to feed your kids, \nor will you be occupied with a work you love so much that you want to \nwake up and do it everyday? Even with the passion and excitement of \nyour mission when another even arrives, birth of your child, marriage of\n a friend, grand opening of your favorite artist, you can put it on hold\n or pass it to a college and take as much time off as needed to prepare,\n attend, and celebrate 100%. Without worry or missing even a hint of \nyour project and passion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Currently this almost exists for many \npeople, but many is a tricky word. We are so small, I am just one \nperson, so a number like 1 million always seems big. And maybe there \nare 1 million people living who have enough, money, power, emotional \nand spiritual maturity to have this reality. Maybe? But we are 5+ \nbillion . So 1 million out of is like maybe one person in your whole \ncity or state, depending on where you are living when you might read \nthis. That is not a lot. Then again maybe there is only 2 people in \nheaven, so that would be 50%. I don\u2019t want to harp on the whole 1% \nthing that has been a bit over used these days. And no I don\u2019t think \npeople can be forced to love others or be kind. A true and lasting \nrevolution can not be forced on people. It takes effort, and \nencouragement or teaching to be nice, but force alone will not last. A \nviolent revolution will only last until the next revolution. A peaceful\n revolution incorporates the revolution into the society, or it doesn\u2019t\n succeed and its not a revolution, its just a movement or moment in \ntime. There has been a revolution in American culture, maybe even \n\u201cWestern culture\u201d for lack of a better term. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I would guess \nthere has always been at least a few people who had extreme wealth and \nmoney as their goal but for the vast majority of people their personal \ngoal has been freedom, comfort, safety and security for themselves, \ntheir friends and family and others in the ever expanding circle around \nthem which increased as their capacity to influence others increased. \n Currently most people would probably say this is still true, however I \nwould propose that there has been a steady and stealthy revolution in \nour culture which has replaced this basic motivation with a new \nambiguous goal of money. The concept being that with enough money we \ncan met any potential need or desire at the drop of a hat, at the risk \nof being cliche ( need the stop using that word, its taking over my \nwriting, much like quotation marks and commas and parentheses) {maybe I \nshould start using brackets}.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe I am too far north or just \ntoo white, although 80% of my household is not white (they are just as \nnorth as me, give or take 50 feet most of the time) But I feel like the\n revolution that ended slavery has slowly erased racism. Or is slowly \nerasing racism. Slavery is illegal but not ended. Sure open and public\n sale of humans is not allowed, it is illegal. However law enforcement \nprofessionals and victims are clear, it exists. A violent revolution \nhas not ended the practice. Racism has undergone a more peaceful \nrevolution, yes there were violent days at different places and sadly \nthere maybe be again. But the internal change toward deliberate racism \nis much less. Is there still separation and advantage or disadvantage \nbased on race? Of course the answer is yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Change does not \nalways require anger, but it can be useful at times. The trick is to \nuse it without violence and to actually turn our adversaries into our \ncoworkers for a better solution for all of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
719 words\u2026. Interrupted by a 30 min Batman episode with the kids <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hope wins<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At risk of alienating my non cynical readership, the idea of\n writing about \u201cHope\u201d is a bit cliche these days. There I have said \nit. Nothing against hope. I love hope. I hope someone reads this. I \nhope I finish writing these 500 words before my patient wakes up and I \nhave to \u201cget dirty\u201d in that ever so special nurse sort of way that keeps\n so many good and caring people out of the nursing profession. Not only\n do I love hope, I think hope attracts love, just as much as love \ncreates hope. They are so connected they might even be different forms \nof the same \u201cthing\u201d for lack of a better word. This may be part of \u201cThe\n why\u201d that so many people seem to live without hope and love. They are \nnot a person, place, or object. They are not really feelings or \nemotions. Possibly Love could be a verb, but that too is far from \ncomplete and a bit cliche. My first impulse is to say hope and love are\n intangible and yet so often they are the most palpable element in the \nroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All this is not the result of alack of something in love \nand hope as mush as an issue with human language. In my case mostly \nEnglish. I am pretty good with French, at least my American friends say\n so and a few very pleasant French people have said they thought they \nthought I might be French. No doubt they hoping to make me feel loved. \n That said I have come across no word or word group in French seems to \ndefine either concept is a compact easily word. Like a rock. We all \nknow what a rock is. Whether it is just sitting there or someone throws\n one in your direction, a rock is a rock. A duck is a duck. Hope is \nhope and love is love too, but its not the same. That to me is part of \nthe beauty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beyond the beauty of hope and love are the practical \naspects. They keep us alive. Like many teenagers, I suppose, there was\n many days, or seasons as they say in today\u2019s best sellers, when I did \nnot expect to make it to adulthood. I simply did not, no need for \ndetail here, either you understand or you don\u2019t. If you don\u2019t consider \nyourself very lucky and thank your parents. If you understand, consider\n yourself lucky, it can increase your odds of survival and at the very \nleast make your remaining time a bit more enjoyable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even when I did not expect to live long enough to be like my parents of Gandhi or President Lincoln I had a sense of hope. I could hope for something to tasty to eat, something interesting on TV, Mutual of Omaha\u2019s Wild Kingdom was always fun, or just that my brother would stop tickling me. I always had hope because I always had love, love from my family and friends. Looking back I am not so sure I really knew I loved them then or even that I showed them then. Sadly I probably don\u2019t really show them very much now. But what I do know is that looking back on then I do love them all now, or at least I love that they were there with me then. And like soldiers who have been through war together, I love that we made it through those day together. Even the ones that are gone my love seems totally present. The rock that hit me in the head with I was 10 yrs old, not so much. That is the beauty of love and hope and why I need to share it more and make it so. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nThe half way point<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I do like writing, its like thinking, but more\n time consuming. I like thinking too, quicker than talking and no worry\n of people not listening, although they do all too often respond \nincorrectly to my thoughts. This has lead to at least consider talking \nmay be a valid exercises from time to time. So at the half way point in\n this 31 days of writing 500 words a day I can see how this would be a \ngood job for me, the real question for me is would it be good for \nothers. I pretty much talk to my friends and family like I write, for \nbetter or worse. Generally I think we all say for better. It must be \nsaid that there are some members of the family who can only hear so many\n of my words each day, depending on their mood. My children and mother \ncan still listen to me non stop, but my kids are very young and my \nmother very old (with all due respect)\u2026 Once you get past 80-85, age \nshould be something to proud of, its like completing your 100th \nmarathon.. No need to run around waving it in peoples faces but don\u2019t \nfeel bad when people mention it. I have never run a marathon. I did a \nwalk-a-thon when I was 12. 30 miles, great fun, raised money for breast\n cancer research or something like that. And I have been to maybe 100 \nDead shows, which is a sort of marathon. Anyways, I can see writing as \nsomething I can do and love and might even be capable of improving my \nskill with practice. Based on my test market (my friends and family) \nusing my test medium (oral production) my raw material, (Thoughts as \ntalk)has a positive effect and therefore value. This process could be a\n good test for translation to a medium which larger number people could \nexperience, as my time is limited. However this was not meant to be a \nblog or public material. The goal of the exercises is really just \nwriting and flexing the writing muscle or muscles depending on how you \ndefine it\/them. I like what it does to my head, possibly less so to my \nwrist and fingers. But no sacrifice is to great for art and country!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One point I have noticed and others may have too, is my tendency to jump around or digress as the big boys call it. I also like to toss around rather odd metaphors, You can only imagine how hard it was to use the word metaphor rather than use one of my standard crazy images, such as an ostrich with his head in a hole, or a little boy picking his nose. It seems I couldn\u2019t resist. So maybe just straight text will not be my best medium. Maybe memes with a photo graphic element will work better for me. I do enjoy the colorful side of things, probably an untoward effect of the Dead shows. I remember a phase where I was writing thoughts on ceramic vases and platters I turned and then glazed with fun colors. Sadly in some ways the whole money culture has stifled all this. Or maybe it has\/will push me to refine and improve my output. Time will tell, which is part of why I am intrigued enough to make the move from talk to write. Will others find it worthwhile or not? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nFood<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I love food. They say what you can\u2019t live without is that \nwhich you love. I love food. Recently I read a piece about \nBreathetarians, people who practice the \u201cart\u201d of living without eating \nor drinking. They take in all the need through their breath. My first \nquestion is \u201cwhy?\u201d. Granted \u201cHow?\u201d could develop into some rather \ninteresting discussion or at least amusing answers, in a sort of \u201cOne \nFlew Over The Cuckoo\u2019s Nest\u201d, \u201cAlice in Wonderland\u201d sort of way, but why\n would one want to give up such a pleasure and connection with life? I \nfirst heard of Breathetarians around the same time I met a guy who was \nliving in his truck and working of discovering the key to time travel. \n He truly seemed to believe he was getting close, although he did admit \nit was difficult to explain to others. As I was living in my van at the\n time I was probably one of the few people who could truly understand \nhis commitment to his efforts. At the time I was less concerned with \ntime travel, I was more focused on the joy of freedom to seek joy in \nseeking freedom. I imagine that explains our ability to connect. \n Considering the current state of \u201cpopular\u201d society, for lack of a \nbetter word, it appears he may have succeeded in traveling ahead of us \nand is not in control of the American political machine, all of it, them\n or however it might best be described. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But enough about time travel. Food is why we are here, its what concerns me now. Coffee to be more precise, its 10am, between meals. As I said before food is about connections. It gives our cells the materials needed to connect with each other and it gives our thoughts the moments we need to connect with our lives. Even when we have not food it is the focus of our existence. It links us to our past. At great risk offending someone by mentioning a forbidden meal or substance, I remember one meal of Mac and cheese, organic, rennet free, dye free New York Cheddar, (or the colored dry powder if you prefer. Personally I connect with both although at different times.)I need only think of that meal to return to that time in my life. Of course there are many more meals and food that send me nowhere. Somehow I seemed to have returned to time travel again and again I return to why? Food is our connection to life. Why would we want to give up our attachment to life. Soon enough we will give up our attachment to life and we will have forever to practice that. Or not I guess if you believe we will return a as beetle or a Dali lama or whatever. Then again, that\u2019s not really my image of the afterlife. I see heaven much more about experiencing the glory of God without my own personal baggage in the way. At that point will be more just a very funny joke and a clear example of God power to turn total BS into pure Bliss. Which is a little like how cows turn grass in the BS and then God makes papayas, mango’s and humans. Back to food at last, but clearly time travel has more to say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nTell us about your day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Most of my days are the same these days, \nor at least out of my control in many ways. When there is school the \nkids do that, when there is not school the kids usually do me. Well \nyesterday was the first day of spring break in 10-15 years that may mean\n going to the ocean beach for sun and fun, but they can\u2019t drive or fly \nby themselves yet so thats not an option presented to them yet. They \nhave friends who missed the Thursday an Friday last week to \u201cvoyage\u201d but\n they haven;t figured out of horribly we are depriving them of that yet.\n So a friend of ours offered to treat them to a day at the amusement \npart. Him and 5 kids 8-4 years old. I was requested to go along as \nsupport. This my normal roll. Stay out of trouble and toss out one \nliners when necessary. The kids loved it, just telling them they can \nleave the yard is a big deal, I guess thats why they love school so \nmuch\u2026 We don\u2019t have TV, never had cable. Even in France we only had the\n basic broadcast stations. Its not so much about control as it is \nlimiting evil programing. I mean commercials and sassy kids. Anyways \nthey get to watch plenty of empty programing on the Internet. So its \nkind of like spring break, its out there but its not day, so what should\n we play. Anyways they loved the adventure, I won\u2019t bore you with \ndetails, big smiles, screams of joy, frowns while waiting in line. I \nlove my kids, we made memories. When they are not with me I can cry \njust thinking about how lucky I am, when they are with me I feel it too \nand we do like each other. There really is no other way to talk about \nmy day and make it exciting or interesting. Yes we go places and do \nstuff, we have been to Paris, San Francisco, Chuck cheese and Beijing, \nbut it really is the warmth we share and the drama that erupts between \nus from time to time that makes time freeze or leap ahead without any \nconnection to normal reality. Not that normal reality is bad, its just \nhard for me to spend time there. I guess for the kids that would be \nschool, in class while the teacher is talking to be precise. For me it \nused to be what the National evening news talked about. I guess \nsomewhere around the OJ trial that all went sour. Watching attorneys on\n both sides not asking the simple questions and making ridiculous \nspeeches. Followed by unknown experts asking even more crazy questions \nwhile never asking the simple ones. As I said we don\u2019t have TV, but its\n everywhere but our house, so we see it and we know the direction and \ndistance it has traveled since then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Anyways, a great day out was followed by frozen pizza at our house and 3 hours playing in the yard until it was so dark and cold that even Eskimos would have come in. The kids will no doubt claim that the roller coaster or the log chute was the high light of the day. But the 3 hours running around on the grass playing \u201ctag\u201d was the longest period of continuous laughter and smiling they had. I liked the roller coaster. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\nMy Lie<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Its funny how hard lying is right now when asked to lie. I have a pretty long history of lying. Maybe we all do and those who say they don\u2019t may just be lying to themselves. Unless they say they don\u2019t lie to someone else, then they are just lying to us and not themselves uniquely. If I were to say I am a saint surely that would be a lie and yet the Bible calls us all saints. Probably part of the problem in lying right now is in having labeled this text a lie. However one of the best techniques of history\u2019s great liars has always been to start a lie by discussing lies, their own and others in the hopes of presenting their redemption to establish trust, as they say in the professional lying field. But for me this whole 31 day exercises is more a training of myself to write than it is too learn to follow rules. This is something I gave up many learns ago. If a rule is worthwhile I know it instinctively and will follow it without effort. If it is not automatically I do not feel it to be correct right away I know this to be a rule not worth keeping. I realized this shortly after leaving jail one day. I worked in a jail for year or so. I knowledge of jail menus comes solely for my time as an employee not a resident. Hard to believe? I understand, but remember the Bible also calls me a saint. If that is not proof of God\u2019s love and desire to forgive us, then I don\u2019t know what is. I don\u2019t want to write lies, of course I will, that is the nature of writing and humans. Like fish stories, one can not finish one without at least a tiny lie. Which brings me to one of the themes of my life, subjectivity. I am not objective, never have been never will be. I don\u2019t think I have ever met anyone who is, although I have met many who claim to be, most were well paid for gift claimed. I am not an expert on modern and post modern thinking, in fact its been quite some time since I looked it up. Maybe I will look it up after this and next time I write about it I will be an expert. But one of stronger traits is my uncontrollable tendency to forget ideas I don\u2019t like. What I do remember about the modern-post modern thing was that it seemed like just another arbitrary label. I think up labels and categories as fast as I breathe, I rarely find them useful. Others generally find my labels even less useful and often offensive. I may be one of the reasons PC was invented. It did appear around the time of my birth, or at least the start of my verbal abilities, although some may question my abilities even today. Anyways back to modern-post modern. So there it is the best way to tell a lie is to wrap semi-truths and nonsense around it. Can you find the lie in this one? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\n\u201cPersuade me\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Be a part of the solution, focus on what we agree \non! They say we are a product of who we are around and what we think \nabout. To a large extent I agree with this, probably has a stronger \nimpact in the very short term and maybe the very long term as well, but \nas young as I am its not possible fr me to judge the long term. As this\n is another short piece it seems unsurprising that my topic is related \nto the current political environment. This is 2016, just in case it \ntakes a few hundred years for this to be read. My request, not an order\n or a warning ( I have never liked either) is to get involved with our \nsociety! Speak up. No matter who you might support in the current \npresidential selection process. Its hard to call it an election, it \nseems more of a selection process than an democratic election. Some \nhave called it an anointing or coronation. I really can\u2019t say I see who\n is doing the anointing so that doesn\u2019t work for me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It does \nseem clear that most of the public agree there is way too much waste and\n fraud in our government. All the personalities presented as choices \nagree on that. The problem is probably how these words, ideas are \ndefined. You may see, a lot of the welfare program as a waste or you \nmay see much of the military system as a waste, just to pick two \nunrelated topics, if unrelated is even possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I would request \nus all to focus on the second word, FRAUD, this is something we can \ndefine much easier, or at least should be able to define easier. If we \neven cut fraud in half every year(to pick a random percentage), there \nwould be huge savings to apply to cutting taxes or programs people \nwant. We need to stop putting so much focus on what separates us and \nmore power into meeting our common goal. Imagine a group of people \naround a tree with a child stuck high up in a tree. All the people on \nthe ground stand around discussing who should climb the tree. How the \ntree should be climbed, when. How it can be prevented in the future. \nWhose fault was it this time. All the while a large thick blanket is \nsitting on the ground waiting to be stretched out to catch the child if \nshe falls. See the blanket, pick it up with others. AND keep \ndiscussing the rest, but save the child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sports professional or amateur are not society. TV shows and movies are not society! Gourmet food, fashion, Art are not society! Those are all great things and I don\u2019t mean they shouldn\u2019t exist, they help make life rich and provide a place for us to meet each other and grow. You are not responsible for everything. The best thing we can do is do the best we can, rarely does that mean focusing on the worst in others or ourselves. There may not be good in everyone, I have not met everyone. But of the people I have spent more than a few moments with I have always seen a little good. Pick up the blanket! <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\n\u201cTeach Something\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I taught English for 10 years anyone reading \nthis \u201carticle\u201d knows I should not do that today\u2026.or any other day for \nthat matter. I could teach pottery or skiing, love both and probably \nwould do better than with English, but they both advance better with a \nphysical experience addition that someone with limited English like \nmyself could never convey without a hammer. What I dream of \u201cTeaching\u201d \nis \u201copen thinking and open dialog\u201d if there is such a thing. I say if \nbecause if there is then I didn\u2019t really need the quotation marks, but \nthey are fun to use , so I do. Just to clarify, for me open thinking \ndoes not mean that there is no right or wrong or no authority (external,\n internal or eternal) (PS: I enjoy parentheses too). To me open \nthinking is looking at and discussing an idea or event from as many \nsides as possible. Judgment can not be reserved or denied during the \nprocess, but it can be held in tenderly knowing that there maybe \nconsiderations not yet addressed. These days extreme polarity seems to \nbe the standard path. Even the \u201cCenter\u201d is extreme these days. Take \ncapitalism. Some people think it is the answer to all, others say \nSocialism. But is there such a thing? Is one better than the other. \nSome would say Capitalism made America the richest and greatest country \nin history. Others might say that it was due to virtually unlimited free\n natural resources land. Others might question the idea of free and say\n American Capitalists killed the owners and stole the land just like all\n the other emperors. The Indians,if I am allowed to use that term had a \npretty good life going, they didn\u2019t have fences or attorneys backed by \nguys with guns. But they didn\u2019t upset the natural balance of things. \nKind of cool to be able to just hike around and drink water out of the \nstreams and pick berries and mushrooms. OK so that was bad and we gave them casinos before everyone else, so that\u2019s behind us, you say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fair\n enough, but what about the slaves? What about the all the countries \nthat gave up all their natural resources to American corporations \nwithout really keeping any for their citizens? (to be fair it wasn\u2019t \njust American corporations)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell those countries were paid for \nwhat was taken, its not our fault if their leaders wasted our payment. \nAnd they didn\u2019t have the ability to use what we took anyways\u201d you say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But\n how did those \u201cLeaders\u201d get into power? And is helping an old lady \nacross the road and letting her fall down the hill really a good deed? \nMore importantly would Capitalism have been had such huge success if \npeople without power had been able to negotiate with the same respect as\n capitalists. Why can one person refuse to work or rent their land for \nless than $10,000.00 a day, but another person can not even refuse to \nwork or rent their land when offered $10.00 a day? The Indians (that \nword again) or Africans, or Asian, didn\u2019t have money enough, or guns \nenough, or attorneys enough or education enough. So I guess we could \njust call them poor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo giving them free money, guns, attorneys and education is the cure.?\u201d you say<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Well that is probably not a good idea and I understand your fear, or concern if you prefer, but fear is probably a fair response. My point was and is not to place blame on one or the other. To me \u201cOpen thinking\u201d is being able to look at more than one side, however comfortable to gain better insight. The monetary success of capitalism may not be due solely to its ability to motivate people to work harder and be innovative. We may have seen huge increases in wealth accumulation not solely from greater production. Clearly there are many more ways to look at \u201cour\u201d history, the idea is to look at them together or individually with goal of improving our understanding. Then using that to fit our morals and values with hopefully are good <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\n\u201cJust Write a list\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For me a list is a difficult task, I don\u2019t make lists very often unless there is a point, steps in a process fine, friends to invite to our wedding OK, animals with 4 feet, not so much. The whole idea of this 31 day exercises is to get words flowing get my thoughts recorded. So making this list has a purpose even if its just a list, but does a list require bullet points of numbers? Must it be just words without complete sentences? I have never been good a following rules just for the sake of following rules, unless I decide to make my game seeing how well I can follow the rules, or want to impress a friend, or potential friend. So I will make a list of stupid things I did to impress a friend, not always by following the rules, sometimes going against the rules. One of my more stupid acts, I hope it is not too offensive to call my own behavior stupid. My kids tell me stupid is a really bad word, when I grew up it was just what everyone else was. I was often called stupid by others and they often called me stupid. For example one time I was riding my bike after just watching cartoons and laughing about the funny stuff they could do in cartoons. I wondered if I could do the same types of things, since I was on my bike I was in perfect position to try something out and see what worked. Without much thought I did a stupid thing. Now you could say I am being too hard on myself for calling it stupid. You could say my parents did not encourage me enough, or someone had taught me negative self talk. However, Stupid is a rather accurate word for what I did. While riding a steady speed in the street, asphalt surface, with one quick movement I turned my front wheel 90 degrees, perpendicular to the direction I was going. As any not stupid person, or even a stupid person having a non stupid moment, might expect my bike stopped instantly. I flew over my handle bars and kissed the street. As luck would have it there was one of the wise elderly neighbors out of a walk only a few feet away. Clearly he was not trained in modern politically correct child psychology because he almost fell over laughing. Me laying on the street, dazed looking up and all I can see is him laughing his head off. After a few seconds he was able to stop long enough to force out an \u201cAre you OK?\u201d and then returned to uncontrolled hysterics when I nodded \u201cyea\u201d. Slowly I stood up, no real damage, just a couple scrapes, standard fair for a great explorer of reality like me. When my \u201cfriend\u201d could slow down enough again to ask a question he said \u201cWhy did you do that?\u201d I answered without thinking \u201cI wanted to see what would happen.\u201d To which he almost fell down himself with laughter possibly even stronger than his first laughing fit. It was at this point I began to tell myself that was a stupid idea. He did not need to call me stupid, nor did he need to call what I did stupid. I needed to call it stupid, because I never wanted to do that again. I am proud to say it has been almost 50 yrs since that day and I have never once attempted that maneuver again. Well that is not much of a list and I didn\u2019t even tell the story I wanted to about doing a stupid thing to impress a friend. Next time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWrite something that you wish someone would have told you 10 or 5 years ago\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
People live up to your expectations of them. My ex-wife told me several times that if I did not do things her way she would take our son and I would never see him again.\u00a0 She may have not said that exact sentence, because she said it several times but it was essentially that.\u00a0 After the second time I started to believe her and it was very upsetting to me as you might imagine.\u00a0 She sensed I was not relaxed and happy, which probably caused her to feel worse about us and or herself\u2026the downward spiral.\u00a0 Long story short, I only have 500 words, we separated and she began to execute her threat.\u00a0 She received much help from a system and society that currently feels a great need to protect women and children from evil men.\u00a0 Which leads me to the next thing I wish someone had told me,\u00a0 Our judges and attorneys need to justify their actions in their own minds, they do not need to do what the law says.\u00a0Their worst case scenario is their judgement is changed and they go to the country club just like normal. The law says men and women are equal and children have rights to both parents, but a judge can decide to void that “birth right”.\u00a0 A judge decides what they think is right and selects details to justify their decision.\u00a0 In judges defense I guess we all do that in our own lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking at my life today, I am extremely grateful for my life today. A wonderful wife and 3 healthy happy girls.\u00a0 God is great, kind and generous. Looking back on yesterday, I clearly remember a flash of enlightenment.\u00a0 I don\u2019t remember the spark that brought it on, maybe a moment of prayer, maybe and moment of laughter, maybe the feel of light snow crystals on my cheeks as I skied fresh powder.\u00a0 What I do remember was the click of the idea that IF<\/strong> had I just laughed when she made her threat and replied \u201cYou love Peter far to much t every do that to him\u201d\u00a0 \u201cYou are a great mother.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cI am scared too, we are going to be fine!\u201d\u2026. You get the idea, rather than reinforce her threat and show I was ready to fight this fight with her I could have tried to elevate her above the lowest part of herself.\u00a0 Would it have made a difference, I will never know.\u00a0 Can it make a difference?\u00a0 Clearly it can.\u00a0 It has made a difference in me at different times.\u00a0 In high school things were not going well with my parents and I stopped having much interest to prove myself in my teacher\u2019s eyes.\u00a0 I learned what I wanted to learn and they could \u201cteach\u201d anything they wanted.\u00a0 I just wanted out, so I got on the work program.\u00a0 Which meant I took fewer classes and received credit for work.\u00a0 Great for getting out of school, pretty stupid for a school that was given the mission of teaching kids valuable stuff.\u00a0 Anyways the brain surgeon they assigned to teach the \u201cwork program\u201d class told the whole class that we were losers.\u00a0 Our whole generation was lost and beyond hope.\u00a0 We had been given everything and were going to do nothing with it.\u00a0 I am paraphrasing, its been 30+ years.\u00a0 In a way some of what he said was true, some of that is probably true of every group of 16 year olds.\u00a0 Being lost is part of being 16.\u00a0 My point here is that it was not a good idea to encourage despair or failure in the class.\u00a0 It was a huge difference from my 7th grade English teacher who told me I was intelligent and a wonderful person, I just needed to be a little less angry and focus on my dreams, because I could certainly achieve what I want.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thank you to Mr. Wolfe my 7th grade teacher, you left a spark of hope under my 12 year old skin. And thank you to Mr. Postem, the other guy, at least you passed me and sorry about how I might have contributed to your foul mood, I know I was difficult. <\/p>\n\n\n\n