I just realized that I have only posted to items in the month of March. There are a multitude of reasons for this related to motivation levels, extraneous stress and activity levels but in all honesty one of the biggest factors has been the retrograde motion of the planet Mercury.
Anyone who has spent more than five minutes with me in the past decade and a half knows that I am perpetually referring to this astrological principle. Some may see it as a crutch or a self-fulfilling prophecy, but to me it boils down to the indisputable fact that during these periods I (and most people) are not thinking clearly...which of course causes a decrease in communication skills and an increase in stress.
That being said, Mercury goes direct this Saturday morning at 8:42 a.m. and I, therefore, no longer have an astrological excuse for my behavior. Damn!
[Astrology]
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Some Things That Never Fail To Make Me Smile...
Watching Strangers With Candy...Completing a Times crossword puzzle...Thinking of my nephew Cody's excuse for falling out of bed around age five ("The window was open and the wind blew me off the bed")....Saying "Ladies and gentlemen" in the style of a drunken Kiki DuRane...When suburban white kids use black slang...the distinctive sound of my friend Natalie's laugh...Mikey Semrad's channelling of Cobra-era Sylvester Stallone.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Cause And Effect
During the summer of 1989, I paid a visit to my older sister's house in Sacramento. Ann had moved to California about eight years before. This was my first time visiting her without any other family member around, so I was basking in a situation that let me have her full attention.
At some point during my vacation, Ann decided we should drive up to Lake Tahoe. Before we left the city we packed some snacks and bought some beverages to tide us over on our day-trip adventure.
We began to ascend the mountains surrounding Tahoe when traffic came to a near standstill. Road construction...the bane of the summer driver across the nation. It was a particularly hot day and we had yet to reach altitudes necessary for a cooling off of temperatures.
As we crept along the road, we slowly approached a worker holding a caution sign. As we neared him, my sister told me to reach in the cooler and offer him a bottle of water. In my head I was thinking she was crazy..."This is our water..it's hot, and you want me to give it to a complete stranger?!"
While mentally I was complaining about sacrificing a precious, precious liquid, in actuality I was just nervous about interacting (albeit in a completely benevolent fashion) with a stranger. At the age of twenty my shyness hung around me like an albatross. This was diametrically opposite of my sister who was and still is extremely deliciously extroverted.
Perhaps she could read my apprehension. "Just give it to him" she quietly commanded.
I lowered the window and passed the bottle to the slightly startled worker. "Thanks" he responded politely as we slowly moved forward.
In an instant my consciousness was beautifully rattled. That was soooo awesome. It felt liberating to just do a nice thing for an absolute stranger who would never ever return the favor. In that moment I learned more about the concept of karma, than if I had memorized the entire Bhagavad-Gita.
So, why do I bring this up? Now, obviously it shows how awesome my sister is and what an impact she has had on my life...I mean I am relaying a story of giving a bottle of water to a stranger almost twenty years after the fact. Lately I have been thinking about the subtle quiet ways that we can make an impact on our fellow humans.
While making withdrawls from my memory bank I recalled someone who had made a similar impact on my worldview...
Growing up my family attended Havelock Christian Church. We went every Sunday, and with my mom teaching Sunday School and my dad serving as an elder and board member, I guess you could say that we were pretty involved in the workings of the church.
The person who I most closely associate with the church was not even a member. His name was Mr. Rice and my memories of are from when I was probably five to seven years old.
Mr. Rice was in his early nineties at the time. He seemed very frail, as if you could just see that he had led a difficult life in the way he moved his body.
Every Sunday in our Sunday School classroom the teacher would take donations from the students. Although the weekly total may have never exceeded a dollar or two, it was a cute way to make the kids feel involved in making a contribution to the church by way of a nickel or dime that their parents had given them before class.
Probably about once a month Mr. Rice would show up at our classroom and, as we gathered our coins, he would add in a couple of quarters, which never failed to astound the easily impressed youngsters. His contribution would dramatically increase our donation total, much to our pleasure. He would stand amongst us, make a minute or two of small-talk with the teacher and then move on to a couple of the other classrooms to make similar donations. He would then leave the building, walking to his nearby home before the regular Sunday service began.
Even at such a young age I could tell that Mr. Rice was not very financially well off. The decades-old suit was a visual cue, but there was also a humility in the way that he carried himself that alluded to it as well. There was the unspoken joy that was expressed in his mannerisms when he dropped his small contribution in our collection plate. There was the way that he quickly exited the building before the service, as if because he could not afford the latest fashions or have a nice automobile in the church parking lot, he did not deserve to be in a house of God.
The quietness of his generosity spoke louder to me than any sermon I heard within the confines of that building. My worldview was permanently altered by seeing his demonstration of altruism. A kindness that was not motivated by a desire for a spotlight or recognition but out of pure selflessness.
At some point during my vacation, Ann decided we should drive up to Lake Tahoe. Before we left the city we packed some snacks and bought some beverages to tide us over on our day-trip adventure.
We began to ascend the mountains surrounding Tahoe when traffic came to a near standstill. Road construction...the bane of the summer driver across the nation. It was a particularly hot day and we had yet to reach altitudes necessary for a cooling off of temperatures.
As we crept along the road, we slowly approached a worker holding a caution sign. As we neared him, my sister told me to reach in the cooler and offer him a bottle of water. In my head I was thinking she was crazy..."This is our water..it's hot, and you want me to give it to a complete stranger?!"
While mentally I was complaining about sacrificing a precious, precious liquid, in actuality I was just nervous about interacting (albeit in a completely benevolent fashion) with a stranger. At the age of twenty my shyness hung around me like an albatross. This was diametrically opposite of my sister who was and still is extremely deliciously extroverted.
Perhaps she could read my apprehension. "Just give it to him" she quietly commanded.
I lowered the window and passed the bottle to the slightly startled worker. "Thanks" he responded politely as we slowly moved forward.
In an instant my consciousness was beautifully rattled. That was soooo awesome. It felt liberating to just do a nice thing for an absolute stranger who would never ever return the favor. In that moment I learned more about the concept of karma, than if I had memorized the entire Bhagavad-Gita.
So, why do I bring this up? Now, obviously it shows how awesome my sister is and what an impact she has had on my life...I mean I am relaying a story of giving a bottle of water to a stranger almost twenty years after the fact. Lately I have been thinking about the subtle quiet ways that we can make an impact on our fellow humans.
While making withdrawls from my memory bank I recalled someone who had made a similar impact on my worldview...
Growing up my family attended Havelock Christian Church. We went every Sunday, and with my mom teaching Sunday School and my dad serving as an elder and board member, I guess you could say that we were pretty involved in the workings of the church.
The person who I most closely associate with the church was not even a member. His name was Mr. Rice and my memories of are from when I was probably five to seven years old.
Mr. Rice was in his early nineties at the time. He seemed very frail, as if you could just see that he had led a difficult life in the way he moved his body.
Every Sunday in our Sunday School classroom the teacher would take donations from the students. Although the weekly total may have never exceeded a dollar or two, it was a cute way to make the kids feel involved in making a contribution to the church by way of a nickel or dime that their parents had given them before class.
Probably about once a month Mr. Rice would show up at our classroom and, as we gathered our coins, he would add in a couple of quarters, which never failed to astound the easily impressed youngsters. His contribution would dramatically increase our donation total, much to our pleasure. He would stand amongst us, make a minute or two of small-talk with the teacher and then move on to a couple of the other classrooms to make similar donations. He would then leave the building, walking to his nearby home before the regular Sunday service began.
Even at such a young age I could tell that Mr. Rice was not very financially well off. The decades-old suit was a visual cue, but there was also a humility in the way that he carried himself that alluded to it as well. There was the unspoken joy that was expressed in his mannerisms when he dropped his small contribution in our collection plate. There was the way that he quickly exited the building before the service, as if because he could not afford the latest fashions or have a nice automobile in the church parking lot, he did not deserve to be in a house of God.
The quietness of his generosity spoke louder to me than any sermon I heard within the confines of that building. My worldview was permanently altered by seeing his demonstration of altruism. A kindness that was not motivated by a desire for a spotlight or recognition but out of pure selflessness.
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