Deadlines! Deadlines! Deadlines!
Ever wake up in the morning with a nagging question that just puzzles you more, and more the longer you think about it? Mine is “Why does SOUR CREAM have an Expiration date?” It’s already sour and so……
Any who I just thought I’d throw that out there for everyone. That aside let’s get on with it.
No matter how many deadlines you personally have it seems that most people need that kick in the butt to push one’s self to do their best work. So few of us are really self-starters, so the mighty deadline becomes a necessity, that anti-drug to postponement and procrastination. There are procedures and processes and they include boundaries, and those boundaries add value to life. Without them life becomes valueless. The guidelines and barriers which surround us daily help us not only to do our best, but helps define winners and losers, success and failure, fair value of price vs. priceless, cheep or inexpensive vs. Expensive, and finally right and wrong; allowing people to know exactly what is expected of them and when.
Though it may not be too fun admitting it, all of us, have a finite amount of time. New to the market place is a device to figure out our scheduled last breath—the death watch. Tikker the makers of the death watch as it is called; counts down admittedly slowly to a calculated estimated time of the wearer’s death.
The Tikker team readily admits the idea sounds morbid but adds that the idea behind the watch is to encourage wearer’s to realize their lives have an expiration date and they should make the most of their lives while they have them…i.e. making them face the ultimate deadline.
“I think we can have a better life, and make better choices, if we are more aware of our upcoming expiration. It gives us perspective — the little stuff suddenly doesn’t seem so important anymore. That’s why I see Tikker as a happiness watch,” explained Tikker’s creator Fredrik Colting.
The death watch will arrive with an instruction manual and a questionnaire meant to estimate how long the wearer is scheduled to live. Once the expiration date is determined, it can be programmed into Tikker. The death watch literally counts down the seconds to the wearer’s utter demise, all the while displaying the current time.
“But the point we are trying to make is that the wearer should in some way be conscious of their own expiration, and that in turn will make you better appreciate life. Like people who’ve had near-death experiences, or lived through diseases.”
We’ve all had some experience with death or something like the time our pet died, so death is no surprise to anyone. We rarely like to talk about it though. And we should always question the mental stability of those morbid few who like to talk about death. But what about displaying what’s left of our time, in a way that others can see, or at least speculate about it, or question us, should they even take notice of the strange wrist device and recognize it as the death watch. Who would openly display this on their body?
The once popular break the ice question, “What’s your sign?” will soon have to give way to, “How much time do you have…left that is?” Should this become the next crazy must-have product. Can such a device even make it in the business world? Can it literally out sell the success of that long ago popular useless “Pet Rock”?
Because it just before the time of the year where we celebrate the traditions of trick or treat, this little morbid tidbit falls from the great internet sky into our laps. Do the makers of this little useless wrist device believe it’s revelatory? Or do they think lots of people have $30–$50 per watch to spend as Halloween party favors that promise to produce more interesting conversations at your morbid dinner party.
Somehow for me, the way I see it, this device looks too much like a ready-made human metal-detector for “Gold diggers”. (If you know what I mean?)
How do you find the concept of the death watch?
How would you change your life if you knew you only had 10 more years to live?
What about if you had just one year, just a month, or a day?
Would you even want to know, and therefore would you want to buy this product? Do tell.
Dan’s head was throbbing as he rubbed his eyes desperately trying to remove the black spots he was seeing. A damp, sweaty hot moist air-filled with dust and steamy radiator coolant enveloped the convertible passenger compartment. Just moments ago it was an idyllic afternoon, then, the world became motionless followed by a splitting headache, and the amped up sounds of colorful language. Dan surveyed the condition of his surroundings, the car’s interior, and where the driver Bob was.
But that was now! And how it all came about over the course of an hour or two was just like this…
The phone rang! It was Bob who was all too excited to have heard the voice of his friend Dan on the other end. “Hay get your stuff ready for a ride of your life in the beast!” Bob didn’t even wait for an answer before adding, “I’ll be over in just a minute.” And just like that, before it really got started the call ended.
Dan rubbed his glazed over eyes. A night of cramming for exams, and now the lack of caffeine coursing through his half-asleep body left him barely able to comprehend this latest phone conversation, net alone realize it was 4:30 in the afternoon. All the strength he had went into following his all too familiar morning routine of making strong coffee. No sooner did the sugar and creamer break the surface tension of coffee in his mug when the doorbell rang, followed by the rapid drum-roll knuckle knocking, it was Bob’s patented style.
Dan walked to the door, mug in hand, fresh coffee stain on the front of his tee-shirt and opened it. Bob rushed through the doorway as if he was a breath of fresh air, just like an invisible ghost was giving chase. Bob’s mouth was moving, arms were waving, his head was bobbing, but Dan was still waiting for his morning jolt to fully kick in to understand it all. Dan could now see why his parents said, Show me your friends and I’ll show you your future. With only half a cup of coffee injected and some 3 hours sleep, it wasn’t time for a high-octane encounter with Bob.
“Are you alive in there?” The basketball player’s hands grabbed Dan shoulders with a semi-firm grasp, garnering his total attention. “We are about to have a night of our lives. We have the “Beast”, and it’s ready to roll. We have some nice girls waiting for the BBQ of their lives. All is good in our world. So! May I ask? What is it with you and acting like your one of the walking dead?” Bob asked, with his eyes transfixed just inches from Dan’s face.
There is tremendous value in small congregations coming together, even if it is just one friend meeting up with another. Of course friends are supposed to influence, support, to engage and encourage, as well as push you along despite of any particular personal emotions. But the spark that lights the fire and gets the ball rolling farthest for guys is the mere mention of girls.
It wasn’t long before the wind was whipping through hair. These were the halcyon days of fuel prices, so the throaty throb of the big V-8 gulping gallons of gas didn’t dampen any of their enthusiasm. This was a caffeine high punctuated by a redline RPM thrill ride, just two college friends leaving the worry of term papers, finals, and professors saying, “You could’ve done better”, far behind. On Dan’s lap were the condiments along with other ingredients to the BBQ Bonfire night of their lives. Food, music, girls, fire, and a spectacular view of the city on a starry night, what else is needed to forget all about your troubles?
The eight-track tape spun out catchy tunes, Dan and Bob did their best to sing along while adding in some drum solo’s by rapping on the dashboard and steering wheel. The convertible wound its way up the hills towards the overlook. The overlook was a flat place on the edge of the rim of the canyon, overlooking the city far below. This was where college kids would gather to make out. But occasionally celebratory bonfires would light a commemorative spectacle of some sporting victory, along with a keg or two. Neither of which was the case tonight. Tonight was a time to remember for a life-time, because you’re only young once.
Bob was enjoying the raw power of his convertible taking corners sharp and sling shooting out of them using the raw power of 350 some odd horses instantly unleashed while depressing the accelerator to the floor. The car responded to the silent commands of Bob’s thoughts and his lead foot. Taking a corner a bit too cavalierly Bob and Dan were suddenly confronted with a split-second decision. There in the road, was a large, lifeless skunk. It had met its fate in their lane just off-center of the dividing lines, and Bob loath to run it over again. The only thing faster than his reaction was the thought of the odoriferous imprint on his showroom convertible. The beast as it was called couldn’t show up to the bonfire smelling like ass. What kind of impression would that leave?
Dan’s mouth just began to move and at the same time his hand snapped forward, pointing his finger in the direction of the motionless heap in the road. His cohort jerked the steering wheel in an effort to veer just past it. As fate would have it the car plowed straight into the ditch.
Dan’s head was throbbing as he rubbed his eyes desperately trying to remove the black spots he was seeing. A damp, sweaty hot moist air-filled with dust and steamy radiator coolant enveloped the convertible passenger compartment. Just moments ago it was an idyllic afternoon, then, the world became motionless followed by a splitting headache, and the amped up sounds of colorful language. Dan surveyed the condition of his surroundings, the car’s interior, and where the driver Bob was. The condiments along with other ingredients had become pools of kaleidoscopic pickle-laced colors complemented with the unmistakable aroma of their nearby nemesis.
Bob was kicking dirt onto the lifeless skunk, braiding it with obscenities, oblivious to the smell of skunk and rotting meat; occasionally glancing in the direction of his poor car cradled by the roadside ditch, just to renew his energy of angry outbursts against the motionless perpetrator to their dilemma. There were only two real choices to make now. Either way it seemed like it was going to be a long walk down the hills to get help, or the road up the hills, leaving the car just where she sat while trying to salvage the night and go for the bonfire.
There is so much in life that we can change, but then, there are some things we can’t change. A person can become a skunk in your life’s path for 1 of 3 reasons. 1) They want to be you. 2) They hate themselves. 3) They see you as a threat.
Isn’t life a lot like that? I mean everyday life, where even small decisions have to be made despite uncertain outcomes or unquantifiable risks to each possibility in choosing. We all have friends and we all should have heard those famous words by now “Show me your friends and I’ll show you your future.” And therein lays the rub, finding quality people who are also willing to be perfectly honest with you no matter if you want them to be in the first place. Those same people who are at one time friends can then also become out of jealousy, or laziness, your detractors, critics, hecklers, or disbelieves, of your ideas or even of you personally. Just because the way you choose to live life. When all you’re doing is chasing your dreams. Sometimes people become paralyzed with fear, unable to move forward towards their dreams because of their friends–who turn out to be more like road kill skunks; raising a stink over the fact that you’re moving along towards your dreams and they’re not.
Misery Loves Company, so why not spread the wealth, is the philosophy of what seems to be behind those complaints and magnifications made by so-called friends when pointing out possible negatives along the way. Why do people do that? Why don’t they just jump in, be happy for you and your ambition and offer support instead of drawing attention any potential negatives.
Any worthwhile success is built on overcoming negative obstacles.
Don’t listen! Don’t follow them! Don’t let them blind you with uncomfortable visions and strange uncomfortable bouquets of negative possibilities.
It’s lonely at the top because so few people put their fears aside and push forward—living outside the state of fear. Instead they’re gladly accepting an average existence. While there are forces of compliance and conformity in this society, accepting their solicitation is all to accepting of lowering individual standards in becoming average! Average to a point of just being the same as everyone else; when in truth everyone seeks separation through individualism.
The shortest distance between point “A” and “B” is a straight line. Sometimes that means running the risks of running over that skunk in the road again / or leaving a friend behind that is holding you back from your dreams. While we all should be embracing those friends who will share the art of chasing dreams, while offering help in those times perfumed with skunk odor. Life isn’t about the successes we have or share. It’s about the good memories we create with quality people along the way as we travel in similar directions towards individual dreams, sharing those common goals of searching for success through adventure. Without great efforts made, we can never evaluate what is the true value of anything worthwhile. Sometimes the chase is what defines success, and its worth, not just capturing it.
Bob and Dan story is just that, a life’s story they will shared forever. A happening that strengthened their relationship into a life time friendship, and sometimes finding one of those kinds of people “A life time friendship” is worth all the success you could ever find in the world.
Keep your eyes on those dreams and those destinations not those obstacles along the way. Hold your nose, and drive straight through all of your oppositions.
Some think being happy is crossing that line in the sand just in front of you. Not realizing that happiness is always one step out in front of you drawing new lines to cross.
Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. it means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.
Choosing to be happy instead of looking for someone new to make you happy, is the first step towards happiness, everything else is just making people jump through your hoops / drawing new lines in the sand.
Happiness is simple. It requires being fearless of the unknown, to have courage to try, and when you’re been knocked down–to dust yourself off having learned from the experience to once again move forward towards your dreams. Happiness isn’t the accomplished goals, or even those materialistic possessions that we have, it enjoying the trip along the way as we gather memories that last a life time.
Knowledge is weightless so it’s easy to carry around without a lot of efforts made.
No matter how bad it seem in this moment, and in your life at this time, just remember there is someone out there that is more than happy with less than what you have.
Count your blessings and you will be much happier.
This is a view of life, about the flu, and the way people should be interacting with other people, from a wayfarer’s travel’s.
This was supposed to be “good Friday” and there was nothing good about it. The stack of books sat beside me, unused, and uninterested, I could hardly keep my puffy eyes open. Besides my best efforts in providing my body with fluids, vitamin’s, and flu and cold meds, the valiant battle raged on within me. This was the time of the year where viral intruders seemed to make their rounds as unwelcome guests they fly just under the radar, passing through half manned defenses like a hot knife through room temperature butter. Perhaps if I didn’t push so hard at work, or play so hard after work and on the weekends? But family and kids, deadlines, and the boss’s unrealistic expectations….which is the only real justification for my current condition. I reasoned all this to myself as the only real good excuse that I was willing to except at the time.
Flopping myself unceremoniously in my easy chair I glanced over to my stack of books. Reading wasn’t going to happen as I waited for my body to gain the upper hand in the battle. My eyes were too puffy and my eyesight was to bleary, watery, and itchy, to give any interest net alone concentration to reading. I wanted to sleep this off. But I had just gotten up from an unusual 12 hour sleep fest. I felt powerless to live life as a normal person, just wanting to do my common everyday things. Instead I was transferred, downgraded, and demoted having to live with this miserable viral intrusion. My only comfort was melting back into my easy chair and wait for the next sneeze to come.
I said out loud, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.” Tossing another crumpled tissue to the pile. This wasn’t how my weekend was supposed to be at all. I had plans to do things with the kids, and dinner with friends, all of which now had to be shelved. Somehow I had become an involuntary combatant, a carrier of the enemy, who by his design wanted me to find new victims to commiserate with. The only fight I had left in me, or so I thought, was to reduce my importance and volunteer for a self-imposed quarantine–Somewhat like throwing myself upon the hand-grenade, a sacrificial offering to reduce casualties in my unit.
I knew that in a few days this to will pass. That my inconvenience will be all but forgotten like a snowflake caught in the palm of someone’s hand, interesting, beautifully intriguing, and in an instant melted way.
All alone in a quiet room, it’s funny how the mind wonders in thoughts uninfluenced by TV or radio, or sounds of music. I started to think how lucky I really was. I know that feeling like crap somehow doesn’t seem like the same kind of feeling lucky akin to winning the lotto or…. I allowed a few thoughts in for a moment to entertain some differences in luck and what it is to be lucky.
Comparing our misery to someone else’s doesn’t seem fair. I could have just washed my hands a few more times, or given less kisses to my kids when they had the sniffles, and misery avoided? But how is that lucky? It’s lucky, because my short-lived snowflakes worth of discomfort, is so unlike that permafrost in others people’s experience. Like a shell of ice freezing them into a permanent inconvenience, nothing at all like this passing trifle. Their challenging circumstances turn my crumpled mound of tissues into a little insignificant temporary speed bump on life’s highway.
Funny how with religious matters people only are interested by answering the question… what’s in it for me? I can sacrifice a few hours or one day per week (one or two weeks a year, like on Easter, and Christmas) and expect so much more from God in return?
I have had these kinds of arguments with my TV evangelist before. I admit that they were one-sided arguments at that? No real response from the TV or the evangelist on the other side of the glass. Of course when we feel like crap we expect people to come running to our assistance. Give me the answers to make this go away and the sooner the better. Not just in a while down the road a bit. But like yesterday, now, instantaneously; like every street light turning green in our favor, so the straightaway help running at full speed towards us can get here sooner. It couldn’t come fast enough. And that’s just to elevate our temporary condition, our snowflakes discomfort.
My TV evangelist says that God longs to help everyone today, or sooner…. In all my reading of the Bible I never heard of any one of the disciples; have to put on hold a mission for God because they were under the weather? So this TV evangelist is speaking a true message then. The disciples were human working for God—so God answers prayers through humans, and wants to help everyone today or sooner?
Image, people like you or I as being answers to someone else’s prayers.
It seems that Christians today have the flu. But I never read that flu was a problem back then. There is nothing mentioned about the flu in the bible like, “The spirit bade me to make hast to Corinth,” said the apostle Paul, “But the enemy of souls delayed my departure with an insufferable ailment common to man.” Apparently that had been edited out. And God’s word had bigger fish to fry then to include things like the flu.
To all of the people with the symptoms of fibromyalgia who’s days are filled with pain, or those people who never smoked a day in their lives who discovered they have been inexplicably riddled with lung cancer, to the young family who’s child needs bone marrow transplant, to the victim of an auto accident who has a crushed spine or nerve-damage that affords them no pain relief, to the person who is addicted with pain-killers, to the 13-year-old girl who has to go back home to an abusive parent, for a single parent struggling with time and money and resources, to the beggar on the street, to the run-away, to the silence of suffering within a marriage gone bad, to those lonely suffering from a personal loss of someone dear to them. These are frozen shell existences that go far beyond my discomfort. It’s easy to be fired up in doing something right after one of our yearly visits to church and think in terms of being a Christian. “Hay, I believe in God! So that counts for something”, seems to be the common thought. People might even give to charity or that bum on the street as they drive through the intersection after church services. Given a day or two, these professed Christians are ready to step over someone in real need, as they go on their way saying or thinking, “The government has to have some kind of programs to help people like that.” In other words…I pay taxes so can’t be bothered with stopping to helping out. I gave with my taxes already, I gave at the office and this money is mine!
There must have been people like that, that existed in the bible? Sickness does funny things to people though. It changes everything about a person; we become different people when sick. Did the followers of Christ like Paul in the story that was edited out, (you remember the one; where Paul was on his way to Corinth but, “The enemy of souls delayed my departure with an insufferable ailment”?) Did they have the strange mindsets like we have today? Was everyone confused with the thoughts of different religious practices, and therefore spiritual responsibilities? Is that the modern sickness that ails our life experiences, compared to those of the past?
Being sick with flu I know that my discomfort is temporary, my good times will certainly come sooner than later. Yet we as humans are still at risk with greatest disease of all–being rich with things of insignificance and not truly of eternal value. When Jesus cautioned us about the difficulty of a rich man entering heaven, He seemed to be speaking to all of us in this time, and in this country (The United States of America. Because we claim to be the richest on earth, in God we trust, and consumed totally with greed, even with personal greed of heaven?) Those who are spiritual or go to church to act churchy, to gain heaven for them-selves (the cure for the religious flu) but fail to bring heaven to those that are less fortunate in life than we are. Excusing ourselves from action, people want benefits, privileges, and gifts—but refuse to freely give.
Jesus healed all kinds of sickness and physical malady, healing their bodies so he could also heal their minds and hearts. This is where being a Christian, also believing in being spiritual must also see that the scriptures aren’t just stories, but the promise of the scripture lies—not on physical healing, but promise of abundant life and changed mindsets.
It’s funny how flawed and transitory our believes are, believing this nation is a Christian nation? Believing in, and wanting “separation of church and state” when it suits us and our beliefs best; all the while expecting our government to have a mothers concern more than we as citizens have for our neighbors and those in need.
If we are spiritual people and believe in going to heaven? Why would we spend more time in preparation to take a trip to an exotic beach, packing the appropriate attire, clothes, swim wear…etc.? Yet with the trip of going to heaven we expect it all–no real need to change ourselves, our attitudes, or our life’s mission, and therefore no real effort in making a positive impact or a spiritual one either as we interact with each other in preparation for heaven. To many times we slip into that mindset like having the flu, “Give me the cure and give it to me now! I’ll do anything…” But when the symptom subsides and goes away….
We forget the promise of scripture lies—not on physical healing, but of abundant life now and forever through mental healing. Religion is the everyday battle for the mind, not some short-term cure when we should get a religious viral infection from the enemy of the soul.
If you ever thought, “what’s happening to our society…why do people act like they do…why are we so violent these days?
It’s attitude: as you think, so you become.
Is writing as self-destructive for you all out there, as my criticism of what I have written seems to be? Not that criticism is bad, in fact, it can be quite good. But what happens when the criticism is all bad, piled onto more bad thoughts of not being good enough? At these times writing seems a bit over done–like, like when your new writing ideas resemble to closely to siting in a hot-tub holding a toaster just above the water, wondering in your mind whether this is a great idea or a great shoulder workout?
Second guessing shouldn’t be the game at all? In fact just write what ever, then close it up, and review later on; day’s, weeks, or even months later you may find out that you now have a better idea on how to finish it up, polish it, or just a new perspective, new insight, and then a humble reworking of the orignal ends up as being an improvement. Isn’t that the goal? To improve.
Often ideas come to me, but putting them down onto paper seems where the story falls flat. Kind of like that pick me up music, that seems to always be playing on a certain radio station, until you turn it on? Just for that feeling of being picked up. Turning a good mood into a supper good mood through music, that’s the idea at least? Music influences people kind of like that, it is indeed spiritual, therefore influential. Instead, now, the radio is playing getaway from me break up music. Country music is a lot like that for me. They always sing about losing their wife, truck, dogs, and jobs….ect. But damn that’s depressing! If your feeling down and need a pick up, mood wise? Isn’t it time to play those songs backwards–getting all of your stuff and writing mojo back too?
Or how about, while stroking those inner voices in your head to slow down a bit with their presentation of those great story your writing, or blogging about, but then, you hit that proverbial brick wall! You know? Stories are coming at you at the speed of thought, and your fingers are moving across the key board as if they are set in concrete. Suddenly you realize writers block sounds like screaming seagulls fighting over a hot dog bun! Distraction over load! Distracted by everything?
Is that why I in vision most writers sitting in their underwear, on the couch, writing at will? Just seems that these kind of people have less distraction, and fewer people in their lives to impress. Not having to make any dissections like what kind of clothes to wear, I suppose has some feelings of freedom, less distracted, but leaves one’s nature totally reclusive. They don’t have writers block. What they have is a mental block and a closed off front door. They may fear the outside world, hiding behind closed off doors, rewriting reality into an imaginary one. Choosing not to be social, so they can blog the hell out of a post, write great stories, and the likes they….. Not comparing here, just observing mentally?
Out of the thousand ideas that I have written, then after a while rereading them, then picking that one that moves me or rekindles my creative juices, sparking that subject matter within my mind, and freeing my fingers to once again kiss those key’s on the keyboard with just a tad bit more passion. Always, seems to surprise me in the end. Besides reading older posts, ideas, and stories that you have written, will give you that full view reflection of how much your writing skill, or talents have improved over time? That may just end that screaming seagulls worth of writers block?
All the best.
What exactly make for a boorish neighbor? Where is the solution? Alas, couldn’t a complaint just be an expression of dissatisfaction over some issue that could just as easily then be resolved as two adults? It seems we in modern society are just living a bit too closely to each other these days. Your life style, or mine, seems to be just rubbing people wrongly when the intention was never that. Or because we live too closely to each other we become aware of a neighbor who are a bit hypersensitive to often, or they’re real reason to live, is to become an Olympic champion complainer, complaining over little to nothing to you? Everyone has the right to live and let live, until that neighbor, who is happily willing to make an attempt to trample our rights, in the rigged exercise of their own.
Because our new modern homes are on postage stamp size lots that are close enough to lean out of our windows and be able to shake hands with each other. (Not a recommendation or an endorsement to make such an attempt) It can make for some neighborly challenges to say the least. Throwing into the mix of things an Olympic hypersensitive person, whose specialty is complaining, you may have just moved into uncharted territory?
When it comes to noise, what is a frivolous complaint, and what is legitimate? Isn’t loud noise loud noise—should it be blaring music, baying hounds, screaming kids, or screaming parents who scream loudly at their kids, those teen-aged drivers who rev their hot rods, or those old men with midlife crisis’s that now drive Harley Davison motorcycles, net alone rev them up late at night, or just an oversized flag snapping, crackling, those noises that one would make when the wind is whipping around? None of these are a laughing matters when one needs sleep!
At some point a reasonable grievance, expressed a bit too often, will bread resentments, creating a point where people may start building those social walls to protect themselves from the childish actions and reactions, to those noisy nuisances over just peacefully resolving them. One who causes extreme noise nuisance, the other who is perceived as a complaining noisy nuisance? All of these are nothing but intrusions on what the other person sees as being normal. When we are so close to the problem, it is hard to understand the problem, without also having an open mind to see it from the others point of view. So when is it a reasonable, making attempt to live within our own rights without seeing them trampled by those who are religiously rigged in exercising of their own at our expense?
A recent story had this person complaining, and wondering what to do?
“Our neighbor’s unusually large, illuminated American flag that makes so much noise on windy nights that we have to retreat to another bedroom to sleep? He refuses to take it down on even the most blustery nights, and it flaps loudly right outside our second-floor bedroom window. He has let us know that this is politically sensitive to him and I’m sure he would have no qualms about going to the local press if we were to formally complain. There’s apparently no town ordinance regarding this. What can we do?”
Your thinking, a loud, noisy, flapping, snapping whipping flag on breezy nights keeping tired, exhausted, physically spent people from their sleep, and a neighbor who is just got an attitude in resolving the issue? Really? It is true–but how would you all handle it? What is reasonable? What is the adult way of resolving it, or is there a resolution, or is the complaint just hypersensitive?
I heard a story once; where a kid kept kicking a football into a neighbor’s yard, then when screaming after it early mornings, most, if not every weekend mornings, just to repeat it all over again until parents got up to make breakfast. An annoying alarm clock to say the least. Over the course of a summer this was complained about, one neighbor to the other. These complaints were respectfully given, and ample time in resolving the nuisance was also given. The problem was those social walls as defensive actions were built one brick after the other, separating common sense from common decency. These neighbors hardly spoke with each other afterwards. The social walls, and how dar you talk about my kid that way, separated people for the most part in being able to get along with each other. I would hate to think if the roles would have been reversed, what the reactions would have been?
Slow to anger, these people didn’t wish to go to war with their neighbor, and true to form when the summer was over, it stopped! Until the next summer. A year older, and so much stronger, the boy kicked the ball onto the porch and added a loud thud to the screaming, that was also repeated several times each morning. Where was the neighborly respect for other people’s property? What would happen if the window would be broken by the ball? What to do, when each side sees the other as crazy?
Well, one day the boy left the ball on the front lawn. After dark the annoyed, went over and retrieved the ball. It would have been easy to keep the ball. But these parents would have just gotten another when the boy complained about not having a ball to kick around. These parents just allowed the boy to rule the roost. So (we will call the annoyed person Mr. X) Mr. X took the ball down into his basement and into his shop, and opened the ball up and filled it with rocks, closing it again careful to re-stitching the ball exactly as it was manufactured. Then he placed the ball back onto the lawn, exactly where it first was. Grandpaw…..excuse me….Mr. X never complained about losing sleep that night.
True to form the boy, ran out of the house on Sunday morning and hauled off and kicked the ball as hard as he could, as he had been doing all summer long. Instead of a thud of the ball crashing into the neighbor’s porch, it was ear-piercing screams of pain. Resulting from a broken foot.
From that time on Mr. X got a great night sleep, even on weekends. Problem solved.
Because this happened back in 1950 or so, the parents quietly just learned a lesson along with the boy, about treating your neighbors with some respect. Treating people in the same way as one would like to be treated. Is what people used to say when trying to instruct people on proper behaviours.
These days, people get litigious and sue! So what does one do now days with unreasonable neighbors, whether it is noisy balls being kicked early mornings, or those noisy patriotic flag flying neighbors that are allowing your sleep to be blown away in the wind?
Who hasn’t un-thawed from winters snow,
with thoughts of soon coming plants that will grow.
In learning to garden, who hasn’t also learned at the same time to become patient?
In so, you will bloom where you have been planted.
Your mind is the garden, your thoughts are the seeds,
the harvest can be either flowers or weeds.
Have some faith in what you will then become.
Gard your choices carefully, for it is faith that sees the invisible,
believes the unbelievable,
your garden will then grow to receive the impossible.
Consider the magical secrets within your thoughts as seeds,
That grow far beyond each of your needs.
All the best.
(note) this was an addition onto a quote of Corrie Ten Boon—- the full quote;
“Faith sees the invisible, believes the unbelievable, and receives the impossible.”
Have you had that “OH” moment when you at first meet someone new? Certain kinds of people may spark your interests, motives, or lusts, but not talking about them right now? Not excluding the above…but talking about being social, but nor necessarily limited to just being social either; just allowing for you to produce your own excuses for going out meeting people. But the question still applies all the same. Have you had that “Oh” moment when you are quietly telling yourself, you have just reached you’re limit with this person, what ever that limit is? But the only response you can visualize or say out loud, usually with some kind of funny, or surprised expression of…. OH!
You know the look? Because you all have been there.
Like take this chance meeting–the person and you are engaged in conversation, small talk, when the other person says. “I was once in an insane asylum, but doing better now. Those therapists can do wonders you know?”
“OH”! Quickly you start to fumble with the right excuse, without offending, while looking nonchalant for the exit. It isn’t that anyone cares why they were in the asylum, or if they are better now? You don’t care to find out for sure. Your not going to be a social experiment of sorts as seen in a horror movie? Nore are you asking why would anyone say that just out of the gate, by blurting it out to a would be stranger……you?
Or how about; you’re sitting at the bar enjoying a drink while unwinding. You strike up a conversation with someone, when the conversation moves to how unclean the bathroom is, and how few people wash their hands after using the bathroom. The other person is picking at the beer nuts and offers up the comment. “Yea, have you seen the bathroom sinks, and water fosses? They are just gross. I think someone even took a crap in the sink once, and it never got cleaned up properly. I just looked at it in horror and moved out the door again.” Looking up and making eye contact with you they adding. “Beer nuts?” sliding the bowl over while taking another few, and popping them into their mouth.
Not wishing to make accusations or assumptions, or even asking any questions to any facts there of, on this subject matter. You respond in the usually way, “OH!” extending a flat hand and saying. “No thanks, to those nuts.”
How about when you ask someone out on a date— The women says she needs to watch her figure and would like a salad. But then orders finger foods, drinks, and a stake….? Looking up at you responding. “Not to worry, she has an active metabolism.”
You don’t want to question her? Of course you want to believe that? But you can’t say. “Are you eating for two?” just another way in asking are you pregnant? Instead you have nothing else to say but…”OH”!
Or that one that is constantly on the cellphone while you’re eating dinner with her? You’re thoughts play different scenario’s— she’s setting up another date after you buy her dinner? Maybe just another date for drinks with a guy she likes better than you? No matter the thoughts of possible excuses running around your head. Your response is…”OH” in that moment, because if you’re buying dinner aren’t you also buying exclusivity of her attention? I know. OH!
How about this one I saw on TV once. Two people found each other, dated awhile, fell in love. While on their way up to the marriages alter, one confesses to the other because they’re riddled with guilt, so they whisper. “I want to start our union with compleat honesty.” You node your head in compleat agreement. They go on. “I once was a dude. But surgery was even more successful than my wildest dreams.”
I know that one is rare! But with all of the crazy reasons for getting altered with surgery, net alone more and more stories in the world of people changing themselves. There is an increasing chance of just this happening to someone in real life? Then what? Is this fraud, or robbery of individuals making good faith choices in their own lives? Will it be an “OH” moment? Or….?
Check out this story from the net; Belgian discovers his wife used to be a man after 19 years via @Telegraph http://soa.li/QE4xMLT
As you can see there are lots of different “OH” moments in life. Just how we respond to them is even a more interesting than the events where your responses were just… OH!?
Do you care to share? Come on be brave, light our giggle fuse, and let everyone enjoy past fireworks of real life happenings with those “OH moments.”
All the best.
If you have ever been robbed before, or even if you were one of those special people who helped / rescued a person in trouble before, common sense isn’t a problem to understand, or even practice. It is those text-book theorists, who clams are to be disciples of wisdom, but then fail to use any, that then present the ideas— God, Evil, and Gun control, and lets also include ” Common sense, have nothing in common to each other. But then there is my question… What is right or wrong with, “God’s common sense VS. “Thug rules of charity””?
It isn’t because I’m smarter than anyone. I’m not! But I do believe in some simple truths. God’s common sense can be explained like this. Placing your trust in God, believing that he gave you a brain to use to your full capacity, would be individually and personally empowering. To also take responsibility for using it, even when and if, you the user may come to think, your brain has met its capacity to do so. So many people are there already with the gun control issue. Not to say it may be a challenge at times? But then if you believe, you can then take hold of God’s hand, as your reassurance, that you can do all things with him. Of course accepting the concept of a God, or arguing with yourself, if there even is a God? Could leave you thinking that government will do a better job?
Though you walk through the shadow of the valley of death, you should fear no evil. If you believe in God, and trust in him, this is reassuring. If you don’t believe, and find yourself in the valley’s shadow, confronted by someone who wants your wallet, money, watch, car keys, and your wife and first-born, or your life? In short all of your stuff and maybe your life after all have been taken from you! Let’s just call it “Thug rules of charity”? Because believing in mob rule, has you accepting the role you have to play. Redistributing your efforts and stuff to those who need!
This kind of mindset is identical to the thoughts of government doing everything, because people with charity aren’t doing it voluntarily! All to avoid being called out by those thugs and their entire gall saying. You are the one with a problem of “Greed” not the ones who would take out of need!
While you are fumbling around looking for all that they are demanding of you, for your charitable contribution. You may be contemplating whether or not to pray to God. But then a thought comes to mind. God may have given you some common sense to use before getting to this point? But you didn’t listen. Like a strike of white lightning, you think… perhaps someone will call 911 on your behalf. Government and their agencies will come to your rescue… so stall if you can?
As luck would have it, someone did call! The time it takes for the police to arrive to your aid, the thug could have stabbed you several times, emptied his guns ammo clip into you and your family, or choked the living crap out of you. The main point is that police officers arrive at any crime scene ready to investigate just what happened to the victim/s? Police officers are also armed with adequate weapons to meet any possible remaining threat once they arrive. So why not some less violent confrontation methods? Why not control the kind of weapons, and ammo clips for the police in the same way as the population? If you think that is stupid? You should remember that there are no stupid questions in life. Just misleading answers of those who think of you as stupid— liberals, and government alike.
The only real question is whether or not you would at least at some point put up a fight, a struggle, or some kind of opposition while you wait for help to arrive in order to save your own possessions, family, or even your own skin, let alone the life of another (Like for instance you come upon a women being raped, beaten, or some such)? If the answers to these type of questions are about to be met with some kind of opposition in your thoughts as you read this. Then I must also ask…Would you stop to help someone who was in a car accident, a burning house? How about a dog or cat that a car ran over and is in the middle of the road? What is the difference?
The way I see it is, if you don’t want people to have guns (for whatever flawed reasoning) it is because you don’t wish to do the dirty work of being free, accountable, or responsible! You are a safety whore! A GREEDY person who wants to have the same things others do, “SAFETY from evil doers!” except your totally greedy about it! You would want somebody else to stop and help you in any and all examples already given in this post. All the while reserving the right to justify your inaction to do the same, because it would jeopardize your personal safety, in defending someone else safety. Or you just don’t trust yourself in doing what is right by the law, and if you had a gun? It could tempt you to pull the trigger on the unsuspecting. Not that you’re bad or evil—– the Gun is!!
So what was God’s common sense? Whether you decide to defend yourself and family, or how you personally choosing a weapon to use in such defense, or if you’re going to ever defend in some way against some stranger, or if you chose to do nothing at all? GOD gave us all the sense to know that evil will always be with us. So to use equal weaponry in opposition to the evil that exists, to the emanate threat you’re facing in your shadow’s or in your valley’s, we have God’s gift to exercise our 2nd amendment rights. Unless you’re totally fine with insulting your creator who made you, and gave you more brains than you’re choosing to use? Why should anyone have to defend anyone’s burning house, by un-zipping and peeing on the fire, or helping someone in a car accident by walking the other way, or helping a women that is being beaten and raped by blaming the type of clothing she wore as your running away, and thinking, “Hope she had the time to get some of that free government birth control?”; or even when your left defending yourself and wife and kids from an illegal gun-toting criminal who is blind to following any law and is personally threatening everyone with it? Why should we have to wait for any help from government so far away? Was New York re built with government’s help after the hurricane that devastated parts of the city? Yea, that was real fast in helping people. NOT! Would it be using God-given common sense to quickly look around for the closest butter knife to offer as your primary weapon of choice for a gun fight?
Why should we ask government to out-law, the law-full use of self-protection equal to your evil opposition’s weapon of choice?
Why beat around the bush then? If we can do away with needless deaths of good people at the hands of evil people using a gun; 100% of the time crime is stopped by police officers with… wait for it… a gun! Why out-law the gun, when it makes perfectly good sense to out-law evil people and their actions they choose to use, no matter what the weapons they use?
If you’re liberal, and therefore think guns are bad, and criminals are just good people who are misunderstood, as well harbor a secret / not so secret support of evolution and or abortion? Consider, that the thug wielding a gun in your face, demanding your stuff or you’re life. Is the proof that evolution left on its own, was right in part? We don’t need government to get involved in tinkering with evolution! That gun wielding thug is evolution’s abortionist! Because you’re too stupid to even want the opportunity to choose, (Or use your God-given common sense) to choose the fastest acting, best weapon available to you in defending yourself. But instead you place your blind faith in cowering in fear, waiting for government help to arrive, while praying, hope it doesn’t take too long to get here.
Isn’t that kind of like…… if you should be a prisoner in prison and the one complaining about being raped in prison, hoping that guards will stop it, and soon! At some point in the near future at least you should having the willingness, to then realizing the facts are, it’s the guards who are playing match-maker for profit at you’re expence?
Are you ready and willing to accept those guards, as you’re only protection in this social asylum? When in historical terms of fact, up until the creation of the United States of America, there is a 100% accuracy rating, that all other Governments the world, over the last 6000 years, were all to willingly abusing their people, and their God-given rights, one of which as being— the right to self-protection?
So tell me again, how is it using your GOD given common sense, when you are willing to give you’re GOD given rights away to the devils of the world/government powers, who do abuse them? Isn’t that like saying? “Thanks GOD! But no thanks! Freedom to choose is so over rated! Bless us with tyranny, because we are running out of things to complain about these days.”
All the best.
It is said when angle travel, heaven smiles.
What becomes of those sparks, that try to escape the gravitational pull of hells fire?
Life as well as in our dreams, seem to be an endless conveyor-belts worth of beginnings rushing towards us at will. A kids life is full of excitement, interest, intrigue, countless hands on experiences, seamless and endless in wonderment; from one moment to the next, from one dream to the next reality. Life is a wondrous mystery. Questions that are unasked as of yet, soon become all answers arranged according to truths. What can’t be held, examined, experienced, or even tasted, truly isn’t real, or really understood?
A new plaything? Or just a new thing? A new type of food, or something like candy— that isn’t food at all. At least according to parents? But still tastes good. Questions abound, and at times answers aren’t long waited for. There is no such things as information over-load, exploration exhaustion, and no such thing as patience either. To the childish explorer, who views the world as their jewelry-box, and every new thing in it as a treasured gem to explore, a thing to cherish, or something new to learn.
How do you think kids view dreams? Is their first one a good one? Or just some fantasy or misunderstood wonder? Dreams are full of endless possibility’s, a world separated from realty, a new world waiting to be embraced? Could their first experiences with dreams be one of scary fright? Something unrealized, and never experienced before that only seems to come at night? Can we as humans both young or old alike, be frightened over something we haven’t experienced yet? Or would we be… unsure, intrigued, puzzled, unsteady and cautiously curious, like a very young child that examines their first piece of hard candy before tasting it? But what if dreams aren’t all sweet?
That calm easy expression of sleep, where tiny eye-lids are pulled over the eyes like tiny blankets, were fiscal muscles are all relaxed. A vision or a beam of humanity’s light, fiscally expressed as a human angles sleepy face that catches our sight. Peace and quiet are the soft blankets to the soul, giving rest and security to the young and old. But what is the view from the minds vantage point, that dreamers traveling light? A slight tremor at first, building to rapid movements of the eyes. Those same angles eyes covered in delict little blankets, begin to toss and turn, move side to side real quick. Prehaps a tear droplet that slowly escapes like a droplet of wax escaping a hot wick. Breathing that becomes heavy, labored, or distorted like someone who is sick. These are the first indications of a quiet storm that’s soon to arise, erasing that peaceful sleep, that suddenly explodes into a raging storm expressed by half-open sleeping eyes.
Dreams manifest themself’s when we sleep, by the rapid eye movements accompanied with those clumsy unvoluntary twitches of their hands, legs, and feet. Do kids also embrace dreams with interest as adults do? That same kind of intrigue, or wonderment, warped-up and embraced in the same way’s as a child does in the pursuit of everyday life? Do they see the dreams and those dreamy environments as nothing but the same thing as real life, not recognizing their state of rest, a world different when fully alert and awake? Is there a difference in a childs thoughts and mind, when being bathed by a dreams mindset glow?
You have heard the expression: “Dream big or go home!” But what if your dreams are over powering, massive, bigger then life, bigger then your experiences? Bigger then the choices you can, or have ever made?
Can we then control this mystery thing we call “Dreams”? What about fear? Can it be controlled? If so how? How is it possible to control things of the night, imagined or real like monsters that hid out of sight? How is it that under beds or in closets, in that endless darkened night, blinded we only see the never experienced before fear of fright?
We humans are funny after all, we build things and make still other things in a managed way, we build our imagination, and we control them through the art of play? We build and mold something from nothing using our minds eye, we see involuntary visions of what could be and then we create it from pictures we only see. Is it all by our own power, or by the angles who would whisper in our ears while we sleep? Those authors of imaginary delights, who would fill our heads with fun-filled adventures, where the impossible is possible, where there is a land of laughter, smiles and delight, that feeling of weightlessness or of flight.
Who should then prompt us with those deep sounds of the night? Those more sinister and mysterious, those hollow bones or sounds of terrors fright. The cool breezy sensations of the devils wing, or of spiders webs against our skin? Who sends all manner of entanglements that obscure us from all enlightened sight. A blinding curtain to snare our imaginary consciousness. Twisting and turning our minds thoughts into a blenders whirl, life’s storms rages on, just beyond our awakened state. Where is our understanding of it all? Is it just out of reach, or does it hide on the other side of sleep?
Dreams; those times where we encounter the unknown. That angels gentle kiss as we drift off to restful bliss. Or that old angels kick! The cold sweat, the racing heart, twitching churning feeling within, that storm that rages beneath our blanketed eyes. Dreams are a world of raging fright, or balloons on weightless flight, bumping against that razors edge, exploding on impact of lighting strikes, truly there is a difference between day and night?
Because there are no mass-produced humans, no rules, or rule books, no instruction manuals to them all. Is there no way to know those secrets of our dreams? Is there no control over dreams or so it seems, no wisdom that lies just under the surface, no one to even ask? Just adventures yet undiscovered, some good, some bad, some so bold, they will be relived, dreamed again until we are old? Do our dreams really matter? With no tour guides, guiding us passed our lonely places within, or those treacherous places we haven’t yet been? Should we just causally consume them as if they would be our nightly entertainment? How is this best explained to our kids, after that visitation from the terror by night; that fear of an endless conveyor-belts worth of new beginnings, where happy ever after seems so far away as it is chased by night?
So easily we bandage a wound so it to can heal. So easily we kiss away tears of pain, all to reassure, to comfort, to calm the rapid betting heart. So eagerly our arms become blankets of reassurances. But with dreams where do we place the band-aid to heal? To be able to then explain to childs point of understanding? Can anyone really hold closely and examine this mystery of why some angels viciously kick us at night, through the power of fright? How do we hold a dream of terror, at arm’s length away, to learn and examine like with all other hands-on experiences, like those experiences or lessons at play?
How can we? When a dream is like catching the wind in the palm of our hands. A supper heroes efforts in build a hand-made prison. Desperately defending by the use of those desperate grasps, those clumsy unvoluntary twitching, from sleeping motioning hands. We reach for that dream… that terror by night! We grasp at it, like its our last effort to do away with fear while putting up a good fight. That devils kicking kiss that desperately squeezes past our fingers, escaping our desperate grasp. But then there is nothing to hold! Nothing to examine, not even a tickles worth, or a tickling kiss who’s tickle would last long after we loosen those clutching hands, checking with a gasp. Did we? Could we have? Can we then find a way of explaining or even understanding, our first dreams or those empty questions that abound? Where is the childish satisfaction, that healing, with a properly placed band-aid to the wounds brought to us endless or so it seems on life’s conveyor-belts of new experiences in dreams? Where is the peaceful gift for traveling angles hidden? Where do hells angles travel when God is not around? What is allowed? What is forbidden?
The question still seems to remain…. Where do dreams come from?
All the best.
Featured image was a Facebook copy, copyright unknown if any. Would like to give credits where they are due though, when I can.