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.”
Stories that are factions, are just a mixture of facts & fiction. Not that there is any intention to distort facts? But more of a blending of two different people’s stories into one. As children grow up, don’t we take on the characteristics of the people around us, or just bits and pieces, sprinkled with fictional fragments of others, of whom we once have rubbed up against in life, as the presentations of what we have become? What we will be? Or what drives us towards our own branded individualism?
In the end, everything that we may discover in life, the most valuable things, those memories and experiences are what makes life worth while.
Long before there were the electronic entertainments of video games, social media, text messaging, or even E-mail; back in the slower time of the past, way back to those semi-dark ages of times, when snail-mail was the fastest thing going—yea decades ago. Kids had to have mental toughness, along with well-developed imaginations. There were no such things as a text-messaging thumb! Whining about a power outages, or how that was so cruel to have to endure. Because computers, TV’s, video games, even cell phones need power. Back in the day, complaining about power outages just wasn’t excepted or allowed. After all it was an adventure, candle light indoor camping, with fire-place rosted marshmallows to boot! It was all good!
In these times, schools were places of higher learning, where bullies got one black-eye, if not two, because good people banded together on the principles, that good always won in the end. Why did those easier times of the past, give way to our litigious, laborious, over caffeinated, high-speed, and run like hell lives where we live in fear of everything, our modern progressive lives of today?
There are two ways in raising your heart rate; one is exercising, the other is getting pissed-off remembering those good times when you were a child, and realizing that your kids are never going to have those same experiences. I always ended up in the same spot that I started out in when I exercise. Within our modern lives it seems like the same thing. Thoughts and memories of the past while exercising made me weary and exhausted. I stop the treadmill and left the fitness center.
Trying to remember all of those summertime’s as a kid, as being the best. Far better than the deadlines, and stresses of our present existences. Not really wanting to except, that our lives have become that what we have built out of them. Where were those summertime’s of the past? Where relatives (for a kid this meant “cousins”) they would always come over to our house, or at time’s we went to theirs. Plenty of good food, caused us to concoct entertainments to burn off all of our energy. These were far better realities, then those lives of hell we find ourselves in today, having to run in place on a treadmill just to keep fit. Not liking any of it, yet complaining about all of it.
Where did our mental toughness go? Did we forget how to entertain ourselves within our own concoctions in order to relieve stress?
As kids we came up with annual family sporting events. We had Ping Pong tournaments if it was raining out. Living in the Northwest where we receive more liquid sunshine then actual sunshine, indoor events were part of it–no TV at all. When and if it was sunny we had football, basketball, tag, and night-time hide-and-go-seek. We would play in and around the trees in the yard, completely shaded during the heat of the day, and play with child-like ferocity the rest of the day into the night, only taking breaks to refuel/eat as fast as we could, and resume play till we collapsed.
Being that we were smaller kids we all played football. Smaller yards seemed so big then. Later on all grown by a few years, we thought of ourselves as giants and so basketball seemed the sport to play. But play we did. As we got older we drove ourselves to playing fields, Because those yards truly were too small to play in. At the park if there were other kids, we invited them to join in. The more the merrier.
If the park was too crowded to play, then at times we played in farm fields, sand dunes, oversized yards fenced off by barbed wire. Making the game of football more interesting, the barbed wire was the unnamed defensive player for both teams, which also played on both ends of the field as the goal. Nothing seems impossible when you’re young and invincible. So barbed wire goal lines and defenders were by nature small things to overcome. I remember only one time out of the many times that we played there, where a player got caught on the fence doing a diving leap for a touchdown pass. It turned out a play that is still talked about at reunions. The catch was made, the player was stuck on the top run of the wire, and needed every player to lift them off the wired fence, and I bare the scar to prove it all to be true.
On another day when energy levels were over the top. I remember one such fun-filled adventure, in between rainy days we found a field to play in, that to us was NFL great. Few rocks, grass everywhere, it looked NFL approved minus 60,000 screaming fans. In the heat of play we completely overlooked the facts that… where there are farms, open fields by water, there were also the remnants of animals.
Someone once said. “If you ever played football in a cow pasture, you know the meaning of “Watch your step.”
When one team started to pull away score wise, the game got more intensely played. Less attention was paid to the facts of what would become a small wrinkle to the game. Sprinkled throughout the field was the tangible evidence of the existence that cows lived here, slipping and falling was more of a tightrope style of play. Tackling the ball carrier that was rushing for a first down, or a goal, made the game of football into a quick step dance of bravado, within a mine-field. It wasn’t long before the question became more of a when, to the where, in how bad you want to win–over the slipping sliding, evidence of tackling, and the odor of sweat mingled with bovine victory.
Long past those distant memories of those games we played, we all seem to hang onto the facts that sports are a preparation for life. But we all seem to want to reduce the risks to a point of stopping play or even the limiting the competition? But then we create society that needs instantaneous success. We seem to forget those frequented environments of our past, the friends we enjoy, books we read, movies we watch, music we listen to, the media we allow ourselves to adsorbed through osmosis, causing those marks if not scars on / in us, all because… our forgotten pasts have led us to see the negatives before the good. Today there seems no good reasons for obstacles, net alone making an effort in overcoming them. We demand something of an unrealistic fantasy of our life, the fulfillment of our dreams to our expectations, and within out timelines. No wonder we live in a world as screwed up this one. We seem to have forgotten to look for the fun and exciting within a child like attitudes of making unequaled efforts in finding it. We therefore have a time in history, now, today, where we live on the fuel of unequaled personal dissatisfaction.
Now as present adults, we see all of the cow dung, and never seem to see the NFL approved green grass, leaving what fun there is behind, our heads hung low.
We shouldn’t forget child-like ability’s to make boring times into adventurous ones; the limitless ability’s to naturally want to promote positive outcomes to what seems impossible. That belief in principles of being noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious— that endless energy in trying to be the best we can be, not the work; the beautiful, not the ugly, promoting things to parse, not things to curse. Seeing everything with childlike-eye-sight through the acquired wisdom of experiencing all that we can while growing up. This alone should inspire to double down in our efforts to winning the game; for life is a game, at times you may get crap, we may need to get our hands dirty and making the best of it all, with the knowledge that soap restores what once was.
Life is too short to get depressed over the fact we’re suffering a setback. It is a game of sorts after all. It’s okay to hate the game, but never the player! Fun is created when you try, never when it served to you on a plate, because we whined about it!
WINNERS WIN! NOT BECAUSE THEY AVOID GETTING ANY OF LIFE’S CRAP ON THEM! BUT BECAUSE THEY AREN’T AFRAID TO LOOK FOR FUN / SUCCESS IN THE CRAP, WHILE MIXING IT UP A BIT!! DOING SO WINNERS FIND THE FUTURE OF AWESOME!
All the best.
Bathroom multitasking is being presented as greener, better for the earth? Is there a limit to being too green, for us citizens of the earth? Should we be going yellow in the showers for the new green life-style? Under a story published with the title “Have you ever peed in the shower”, they explain the how’s and the why’s, as well as the ins and outs of your fellow earthly neighbors and their bathroom habit’s.
Have you ever peed in the shower?
Almost 75 percent of poll-takers have.
Let’s start with a few facts: Toilet flushing accounts for almost 27 percent of indoor water use in a home. The amount used per flush ranges from a gallon in eco-friendly models to a whopping seven in older types. Where are we going with this? We beseech you: Save water. Save the planet! Pee in the shower! OK, we won’t insist. But it isn’t really that gross. Unless you have an infection, urine is sterile and nontoxic. Proponents of “urine therapy” even believe it can help treat athlete’s foot. Heck, Dr. Billy freely admits that he is a shameless shower squirter. http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/30646209/ns/today-today_health/t/peeing-shower-filthy-or-fine/#.UPxf2nwnxLk.twitter via @todayshow
If you noticed within this story they state that people who would practice this ritual would save water over every kind of toilet produced? An all-around good thing? But do we need to save more water with eco-friendly toilets, or produce even friendlier ones, coming in the near future? At least one country has taken the leadership role, the Netherlands? Story is as follows.
If only George Costanza had lived in the Netherlands. A city councilman in the town of Aa en Hunze is encouraging residents to pee in the shower in order to conserve water. Politician suggests going green by going yellow in the shower http://on-msn.com/13lIKWI via @msnNOW
If saving water is of top priority, why don’t we just go all in? Think of the savings with eliminating the toilet? The carbon foot print from the production facilities eliminated because the shower seems to be the answer? On the other hand think of all of those showers per day that people would take just to flush….. You know? So a rational person has to question the true savings in water consumption? Perhaps eliminating the shower then? For that same water savings, and carbon footprint savings to boot? We don’t all have to take daily showers do we? But we need to have access to the use of a toilet, and at times, several times per day. Just saying! But I thought that was just plain oblivious?
So if you must? Here are some fast and loose rules of the road in “Bathroom multitasking”.
One must only urinate in his or her own shower.
One should wait until the water is flowing.
One should only urinate in her shower when there are absolutely no drainage problems. If your shower collects standing water, do your very best to refrain from peeing into it. I don’t know why since urine is technically very sterile, but it just feels gross. (And yes, apparently that is where I draw the line.) Besides do you know just how hard it is to aim for that little hole in the floor? You probable already do know, if tried it?
Do not urinate in the bath.
One must never urinate in the shower at the gym. Just way this rule, when I have already said and it is true …”urine is technically very sterile”, you have to accept that it is gross to stand in someones elses puddle.
One must never urinate in the shower when a houseguest. see the above rule…
One should try very hard not to urinate in a shower shared with roommates. this is obvious! But if it is a request by said roommate or roommates, you may want to question motives?
One must never urinate in the shower when bathing with another person. Unless, of course, it’s by request. Still questioning motives here as well.
Never urinate in the bath or the shower in a hotel.
Never poo in a shower, unless you have a plunger handy. That should be without saying, plunge away at the mess without standing in the shower. Unless you’re at a hotel, and it is checkout day. But really think about it first……
Just some rules of the road, of course if you’re willing, and ready to become more yellow then green? Remember going green has some extra work to it, in saving the planet that is. A trade-off has to be realized then, and you’re compliance if you’re unwilling, will also become more of a future regulation passed by some government agency? How they are going to know if you’re complying with these new reg’s is well…… let’s just say big brother is going to enforce them. If you get my drift. I’m personally hoping this becomes a reality long after I have peed my last though. Big brother and I don’t agree much!
The only other option for saving water, and going to the bathroom at the same time, is to stop drinking so much water, soda pop, beer, and any other liquid where water is the main source or ingredient. This way you’ll go less to the bathroom, flush less, and there is less demand for liquid products, less pressure on natures water supplies as well. All for leaving more water with nature where it belongs. At least according to those who are ultra-green. If we don’t start saving water soon we will all have a future of bathing in recycled water/sewage, and the beer made of it…. I don’t need to mention why we should just start peeing in the shower then, if you get my mental picture right? Or is this just to far, on the wrong side of things?
But then I have faith and a strong belief in the human ingenuity able to work out these problems for some kind of improved future. Because a future of recycling water (and you can pick the way this will be accomplished in your mental mind’s eye) isn’t really moving forward as a society, that is also at the top of its innovation game. Going green with recycling water or peeing in the shower has some kind of resemblance of a third world modern recreation, with some modern conveniences thrown in for good measure.
So would you? Could you? What other inconveniences would you put up with, all to satisfy some unrealistic God complex, that man can save totally, what we for the most part don’t, and can’t 100% completely effect by mans actions, or can be totally control by them?
When you boil life experiences down to what they truly are. We are usually left with tear tracks running down our faces. Our memories at times are like scattered papers, or at best recollections built like a flip book. Where on each page a picture is placed, while flipping those pages our memories, recalled, move like a real life movies across our minds silver screen. While watching all of those slivers of time, recalling charters we’ve interacted with, times and experiences within our history, that crosses our mind’s eye and slowly flips by. Page after page of past experiences, events, successes, failures, our simple and privet times, all of which have built a sum total our lives lived to date waiting for their review.
Memories often confuse our emotional state. But they are all there, tucked in the nooks and crannies of our mind awaiting their turn, their re-experienced. Jolted from some present experience, our minds take action by some default, conveying experiences of our past, the mind responds instantly in living color. A day-dream bathed with intrigue, realizing something new within these memories, these memories are then slowed down. Transported in time, to a different place, unaware of our surroundings, our emotions then simmer at first along their way to a boil.
At other times sparked into some heightened state of emotional feelings, like anger, fear, or extreme pain, emotions become hard to control, we flip through these experiences faster, and faster, producing a dizzying feeling of personally being out of control. Our minds are working overtime with recollections, while making an attempt in suppressing fresh emotional outbursts from just under the surface, from making an appearing on our facial expressions. These challenging small moments within our lives can become so emotionally over loading, that they become a mixture of feelings, emotions. The true colors of life. Like paintings of unattended water-colors in the rain. Purposefully blurred experiences, memories built out of swirling combinations of faded colors. We find that nitty-gritty, swirling within joy and pain. Those common experiences we share, or hide from everyone else, is concentrated personality within this soup, life’s boiling experiences as we look for individuality.
Our chosen camouflage, our mask which hides all, is firmly placed and in plain sight. Facial expressions seemed to be practiced, rehearse, even to a point of perfection. Outward appearances are carefully built into impressions, reality’s obscured through individual smoke and mirrors. It is a kind of self-preservation, protecting society from the reality within our cocoon. A carefully woven web of past memories, experiences, and personal deceit, are our building blocks of our choice. We have fashioned what we believe is the perfect human, that human we strive to be.
We rebuild and readjust our camouflage to fit our surroundings, or to fit in with the people we choose to sound ourselves with. Constantly checking and then double checking with our memories, we fashion a perfect fortress, to house our hollow treasures. The more we become safe and secure behind our illusions, the more our homes eco our vast emptiness.
Insecurity causes us to hide more and more behind our negative emotional memories, we are only repeating the same old flip books worth of cheap movies of our recent pasts, Until we reach our breaking points. The metamorphosis of what is our true self’s bursts suddenly through our fortifications, born out of what is now our adult thoughts, we tell ourself’s, “I don’t give a damn!” Escaping our cocoon, bursting into the true world. Venerable, unsteady, unsure of what to expect next, we are finely capable to experience the joy and the pain of living free of our own self-imposed teen-aged prison.
We are now free to wonder this boiling caldron of life, full of activity’s, experiences and untold memories waiting to be experienced to its fullest or even shared. Free to laugh, or cry, to be filled with joy, or to be savored, being enjoyed. Life is at its best just like that warming sunlight that softly cresses our skin in our mornings greetings, with that same warmth of love, of that special someone who we have come to love. Like kisses so gently, or soft gentil finger tips that slowly wipes those droplets of tears away.
For our tears we cry, maybe that outward expression we all share, and share the same, the very thing that causes life to boil with our simplest of memories as they at first breathe life of their own. Whether we chose to adventure from the slightly warm side of this caldron, or wonder to that boiling chaotic hot side, whether we are loved, or in love, or individually alone. We are left with the choice of how we will react to someone else’s tears displayed in plain sight, or whether we display our own for all to see. For when life gets boiled down to its simplest of forms, we must choose how we will react, with compassion or contempt, with goodness, or evil in our hearts. Everyone is on this same road, just at a different point on that roadway. Looking forward into that black unknown or reviewing memory all to our own, life boiled down is equally full of joy and pain. The only question we need to answer is….. Where will we place our emphasis?
(Slowly I dropped my pockets worth of coins into that tin cup held by hands wrapped in rags to keep warm. Leaning a bit closer, I whispered.” Don’t forget to help someone else in need, and can I help you get to a shelter?” The untold reaction within those eyes was priceless. Just where this encounter would lead was that black unknown of each of our futures slowly unfolded with one foot step after the other. The impact of someones kindness is limitless.)
Whether we choose to wipe away those tears of joy or pain in kindness, choosing that gentle soft touch of encouragement, or with that sudden violent strike of hatred. We recreate and change the world beyond ourselves permanently. Our actions and reactions create two sets of memories that stay within us all. That person of actions, or reactions, we are free to choose. While life boils us down to that nitty-gritty, that thing, we have allowed ourselves to become. We should examine it truthfully, if necessary reëxamine it respectfully in becoming that pure concentration of our choosing. For everyone lives in between joy and pain? For it is not up to us to decide in judgment what we have allowed ourselves to become. But are left with the struggle to keep ourself’s from drowning in the tears we cry.
I’m not trying to be sack-religious here with the title of this post. But thinking back to when there was a simpler time in your life. Allow the mind to wonder some. Okay not everyone has one of those times in their back pocket, or their back corner of their brains worth of memories. Of course, all matters is where you keep your memories I suppose? You can barrow mine then, by coming along for the ride. In the time that it will take you to read this post you may just remember a time….. Or perhaps…. multiple times in your life as well!
My mom used to talk about my grandmother as if she was right there in the room. She would recall an event and then act the time out right in front of me, as if her live show were a movie. But then my mom was smart. She probably did that to keep my attention, over that of just making an excuse to watch TV. Either way, the stories my mom’s would be acting, put a smile on my face and a fantasy within my mind of my grandmother, who had only traveled to the states once in my life when I was 4-years-old or so. Do to her untimely passing away I never had the honor of firsthand experiences with hearing these stories straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak.
This time Mom was explaining to me how to make homemade jam just a grandma did. I however was distracted with the thought of jam. Who doesn’t like a good piece of bread toasted, smeared with some melted butter and then a slathering of fresh strawberry jam. The thought makes my mouth water as I’m writing it down. Hay it is your memory mixed with mine at this point, so make it whatever kind of jam your taste buds are craving. For me strawberry tastes like the fresh berries, even in winter, just as fresh then as it does when Mom and I were picking them at the Barry farmers field. Picking berries was more like eating them till I couldn’t eat another one before I stated to pick them to place in my bucket. (Just a thought as an adult right here….. do you…… well… think that was stealing berries? Just a thought so I had to ask.)
Mom was doing the job of making jam as she was explaining the process to me. I was helping her when I could, but for the most part I was glued to watching the show. Perhaps it was because I wanted some jam, or I knew that after mom was done I could then scrape out the pots and eat warm jam. Getting the true sugar high, all with an okay from mom instead the look of those almost famous semi-scolding words, “Not before dinner!”
With an cacophony of exploding sounds, I was snapped out of my day-dream of eating warm jam. To see my mom pouring fresh strawberry’s into the blender, which pitched different sounds of various degrees of noise. What ever my Mom was saying before hand was just background noise, now disturbed. Mom glanced back to me, seeing me now holding my hands over my ears, an effort to silence the strange noises. With a smile, she again poured more berries into the blender.
Once the blending was done. She once again started her acting and explaining. “Now you take the blended strawberries, measure the amount you need and poured into the pot on the stove. Then you take the sugar that you pre-measured, and poured that into the pot.” Again glancing back to me, checking to see if I was still there. Knowing a habit of mine was if I was bored ,to then just leave finding something more interesting for myself. But that idea of warm jam kept me glued in spot. I thought you never know….
“Would you like to stir the berries till it is ready to jar it up?” Mom asked with a warm smile, all the while thinking some moves ahead in the process. Entertaining me, as well getting some help making her job easier. Who knows, she might of thought that she was teaching me something of value in how to save some money in the future. But what she was teaching me was more like a priceless gift, I just hadn’t come to realize it yet.
“Sure!” I exclaimed, as I sprung to my feet and half-ways ran the short distance to my mom and stove. With the aid of a step stool, my height matched the height needed to stir the sugary berries.
Mom showed me just how and how fast to stir them. “No splashing, please. Just like this…” She said with a calm voice, while demonstrating the stirring motions by guiding my hand with hers. When she had the reassurance of confidence in my ability’s to follow instructions she prepared the jars, and lids, for the next step.
Once the mixture of sugar and smashed up berries came up in temp just to the point of being warm, mom took the sure-jell out of the box, and poured it into the pot of berries. allowing me to also mix it in with more stirring. Soon the mixture was boiling and the temp could be turned down a bit, so not to burn the jam. Mom lined up the jars, and lids, in an assembly line. At the proper moment, determined only by her wisdom and view of how thick the mixture was, she instructed me to move away from the stove. “Just give some room to work the hot berries into the jars please.”
My eyes widened as she poured the jam into each jar. I knew that with each jar filled I was one closer to licking the spoon and getting to the left overs in the bottom of the pot. Of course, there was never the amount of left overs in the pot that my mind thought I should be able to eat. But something was better than nothing.
Once the pot was cool enough mom handed over to me the spoon and the okay. I of course dove into the opportunity like a trained dog. Only waiting long enough to hear the commands, then diving into it without being able to be distracted by anything, or any one.
As I twisted the last of the lids onto my jars of jam, and placed them into the pressure cooker to seal them, my memories of cooking jam with mom gave me an ear to ear smile. Mom never gave me any recipe for her jams. But would often encourage me to experiment with new ideas. Over the years I tried to live up to those instructions. Making apricot walnut jam, tangerine, strawberry basil, onion garlic, just to name a few of the exotic ones.
The best is…. when you take a piece of bread out, smear some peanut butter on it, then get another one and repeat, then get some jam of your choice out, spreading it thick on one side. Thick of course, it is a must! Then marry the two pieces into one sandwich. Lick your chops once, then taking a big bite. I mean big bite! So that you get that jam and peanut butter stuck to the side of your face. AW, how can that not be the food of the God’s?
It is easy to make, even a child can make it for themselves. It gives the sense of independence, self-created enjoyment, teaches the importance to work today for tomorrows subsistence, as well gives you some of the best memories for the rest of your life. All of that with just one big bite. No surprise then that the peanut butter and jelly/jam sandwich is the number one sandwich made in the country. I’ll bet some 50% or greater of those sandwiches are made by kids. It is just a shame, that so few kids now days are not being taught the lost art of “Jam making”.
What I used to look at being a kid, as just stupid work to be done. I now look at it as work of enjoyment, which I rather do. Isn’t that the job of good parenting, teach the next generation how to take care of themselves? All the while promoting an attitude of positive human potential, finding and expanding individual talents, most of all promoting mind healing positive memories. All this wrapped up in each peanut butter and jelly or jam sandwich, enjoyed at any age. So how could it not be the food of the God’s?
In the world of pranks, what causes people to take chances in delivering a great prank? The idea of playing pranks goes back to ancient times I’m sure. Prehaps its just an attempt at immortality. Burning the ultimate prank into the minds of the people with bewilderment.
How did they do that?
Why would they…. do that?
What is the point?
What does it mean?
With so many people involved someone must know who’s behind it. Right?
All the rapid fire questions seem to hang in the air, never really being answered except by speculations of those in aw. But isn’t that the point? To bring about aw? If we knew how the great pyramids of Egypt came to be. We may just look at them as common place. I mean, no one ever wonders about mole hills as if… I wonder? Truth is pranks shouldn’t be delivered in such a way that there are no questions that need answering. Where is the prank then? Half the fun of a really good prank is, leaving mystery to everyday life, with some sense of accomplishment for pulling it off. Much crop circles did about 10 or 15 years ago.
Yes some people may never find out just how it was done, and by whom? But there will be some fawned memories of the perfect prank remembered by everyone who experienced it.
Public pranks at time will also induce people to go and take part of the experience of it by seeing it first hand. So then, pranks can cause a buzz, and some economic growth. Much like a new store, shopping mall, or vacation destination. Prehaps much like the tree, with the likeness of the virgin Marry in the bark of the tree. People seem to wanted to go see that first hand. Seeing some man-made wonders of wonder through a well-played prank may cause interest in it. Leaving everyone with some good clean fun. celebrating the bizarre human ingenuity who came up with it in the first place…. I wonder if I do this… what will others think?
John Curley Show: Don’t take down those picnic table pyramids – Seattle News – MyNorthwest.com http://mynorthwest.com/11/722540/John-Curley-Show-Leave-the-picnic-table-pyramids via @mynorthwest
Pictures provided by the blog post listed above and Wikipedia.
All the best of pranks to you all.
Anniversary’s are for the most part, some kind of mile stones in life. Some event, or at least some celebrations of events within a life, lived well. Just some of the quality’s of the all mighty anniversary. August happens to be exactly such an event for me. This month one year ago, marks the one year anniversary of my entering into the blogosphere world. Not that my ramblings are like any others. Other then they are indeed ramblings. Like a BB rattling around inside of a boxcar. Stories and ideas bounce off my cranium. The mind then commands the fingers to type out a new blog. My views of the world, or at least my corner of it, are expressed as it were. Being the self anointed ” King of the world ” allows any subject matter to be blogged about. As it is with everyone else in this writing world of ours. We make an attempt to express ourself’s in some way’s, just to give others the same views of events, places, stories, or dreams, or even unsolicited opinions. Wrapped up within 1000 words or so. If pictures are worth a 1000 words? Then these mental pictures within our minds view, are worth a few posts of several 1000 words each. Hopefully presented in an interesting and entertaining way. So in living life to the best of our ability’s. We really do live for the living anniversary don’t we?
Remembering all of the anniversary’s as we move along life’s conveyor-belt .Can be a challenge at times. The conveyor-belt just keeps on moving. But the minds memories at times stop short, dwelling over a special memory or two. Remembering your first date? First kiss? Isn’t an anniversary exactly. Having the next one of those is! Only teens celebrate these kinds of things as anniversary’s though. One year marriage anniversary’s…. 5 year….10 year… 20? These are all mile stones of successes of sorts. Adult celebrations of the most popular anniversary’s out there. Special indeed! Specialized Anniversary’s with differences of degrees. When these days people seem to change marriage partners like changing underwear.
For my anniversary. First! Let me thank you all, for the following of this blog. If you do indeed follow? Thanks! I would rather have fellow followers then a numbered amount of stalkers. Causing me to nervously looking over my shoulders at night. Allowing my mind to play some mind games, with some unwanted second guessing, of all the people I meet. Indeed no one likes to eat at an empty restaurant, so having other people following you along the way through life, is some what comforting. Knowing that we all have somethings in common to share. Life experiences. So once again thank you all, for the follow.
Next I would like to thank all of the people who haven’t yet followed this blog. Yes, thanks to you for coming over to the ” Mind warped ” side of life. Just reading my ramblings on a regular basis is encouraging to me to keep on writing. After all, I do not write perfectly. As some of you must have noticed. I don’t write perfectly at times for the entertainment value. At other times I forget to hit the edit button, or I hit the publish button in an effort to save my draft by accident. But this imperfect expression gets you to laugh I’m sure. ( It does for me when I re-read my older posts / published drafts.) So in this way it is successful at the very least, at giving out some smiles. At times, unintended consequences ( verbal mistakes ) when they happen are the funniest, as well the easiest to remember, or to reenact.
I find if I set the bar really low it is easter to clam that instant success for myself. Unless you’re at a limbo party? Then success, is measured by how low you can go. Along with alcohol, this means your about one notch above passed-out, when you’re the most successful. But then all that this proves is that our standards are set low. In short success is easier if you have low standards. Nothing like instant success right?
My purpose for writing this blog from the beginning. Was to improve myself, along with my writing skills. A skill that for the most part can be improved upon, by those who are willing to practice at it. For myself it is somewhat harder to trick into doing the work of improvement, that it desperately needs most of the time. For just this kind of improvement, in writing, practice makes perfect. So I’ve been told. A total selfish reason of course. I know! But don’t we all just engage in the practices of self-interests? With everyone else, though to a smaller degree, the hell with them. It’s more like ME FIRST! Isn’t that self-interests?
Zigging and zagging my way through the writing world of expression has been therapeutic at times for me. Take some of the social commentary’s I read, and then feel I need to express myself on the same subject matter. After the traditional 20 minuets of swearing, and fighting myself from writing those thoughts down. I alow my blood pressure to come down a notch or two, and then find other words to express my over heated opinions. The result is less swearing. Not all that bad of a thing. In truth, it doesn’t take all that much thought to swear. But finding different words that also gets those pointed points across to who ever may read them. Is work! The magic that good writing is made of. Reading other people’s works is also helpful. Like reading the dictionary by Prentice Hall. Now that’s one hell of a writer! Short one word summary’s, that also mean so much more. Obviously the king of the shorts, in the writing world. Well not so fast with my delectation of some new kings. I did see an electrical contractors truck with the slogan written on the side of the van that said. ” Let us.. remove your shorts! ” Prehaps the king of electrical work, or a gigolo with tool belt, who does still make house calls? I guess the bar on the newly declared kings of the world needs to be raised up a notch or two?
Truth is, with our first written words, we have all had fantasy’s of being the greatest of writers out there. I have! But then I hit spell check… and realized that great wasn’t all that much of a goal to shoot for at my level. ( Note to self. Must raise the bar to a loftier level before ” Great ” can obviously be applied.) Wouldn’t you give anything to see the first ramblings of Steven King? A Steven King at five years old, probably thought he was great. But at 45 thinking the same thing? Seem like he would be stuck in a rut. If you achieve the status of king, what is next? The word great is like pizza. Hot or cold it is all good!
Being that its my birthday, just one year old as a writer, and an anniversary for my blog, at the same time. I have realized I have a lot of growing up to do. But I have time, and practice on my side. So improvements I’m sure will certainly follow soon? Who knows someday I will be the next hottest thing out there? Dream big or go home, I have always said. Or on the other side I could be one of the first people to be arrested by the thought police, for some of my political ramblings? Either way it successful writing, because people would have taken notice. Maybe the things that I wrote, have gotten them to think about the subjects a bit first. If emotions are somehow brought to the surface of someones personal thoughts after reading or thinking about what they have just read. Its sweet success! Not that my choice of words are better. But one mans garbage is another mans gold mine. Not that dumpster diving is all that lucrative. It is more like the government has taken all of the gold and left you the shaft. Don’t follow in my mistakes, or was that foot prints? Both will lead to the same place. Unless I’m making my way back from that wrong turn, two mistakes ago. Working my way back from humble town located in ” Mistakes Vill.” Using these examples, improvements must certainly be on the way. Just over the horizon, around the next corner….?
Well now that I have set the bar one notch higher for this next year. Look out world. Here I come! As for the last year these are the most read posts of mine by popular demand. The top ten by volume of readers, at least opening up the blog page and having a quick look inside.
Because we need them and so often forget we have them… or do we? 1 ) Social Filters http://wp.me/p1MnB3-pf
To believe or not to believe some of the unbelievable. 2 ) Honestly… little white lies? http://wp.me/p1MnB3-4Z
Animals can’t be trusted. 3 ) Rocky raccoon friend or foe? http://wp.me/p1MnB3-1ul
Look before you leap! 4 ) janitorial terrorism… or just what? some sound advice. http://wp.me/p1MnB3-Uk
Lets talk a bit truthfully. 5 ) Ruining conversation! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-1iZ
Do I need to explain this one….? 6 ) I’ll get back in touch with you! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-jZ
Because everyone needs one… and wonders why. 7 ) Birthday cards http://wp.me/p1MnB3-1ye
An addicts confection. 8 ) I’ll be good, with the last drop! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-10A
Love the player, hate the game. 9) The greatest baseball player http://wp.me/p1MnB32e
You are only 5 years old once. So make it a memorable one. 10 ) No! Not the hairy stuff!! I’m not going to eat that hairy stuff! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-46
Factions are next. Stories that have both fact and fiction that are shaken not stirred. Because sometimes we are just to young to remember every detail other than the punch lines…
From my life, true stories just like number 10. Some real bonus posts all for the same low price…… ?
Who doesn’t like to spend other people’s money and live to tell about it? 11 ) Ever spent $17 million dollars before the age 10? http://wp.me/p1MnB3-7G
Remembering is more than a problem. But forgetting is an art form. 12 ) Falseheimer’s http://wp.me/p1MnB3-EW
If your going to do the crime… be prepared to use an ALIAS! 13 ) Using an alias; AKA Lino-Lay-Um http://wp.me/p1MnB3-1pO
TRUTH IS !! I can not tell a lie! I have a need for speed… 14 ) The ride http://wp.me/p1MnB3-Gg
Because unemployment is so high now days. It doesn’t hurt to think outside of the box with marketing your skills for that 100 K plus job for the government. you heard it here first! 15 ) Beer czar! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-Sw
Thanks for making this experiment more than fun and feeling more like a kick in the junk at times. But really! Thanks so much for the follow, reading, or in general going through my dirty laundry.
This next year I’m setting the bar just above the dirty laundry. So Look out Steven King, and the writing world. The warped mind has arrived, we’re one years old now! What are you going to do when you grow up?
All the while remembering that if every day were filled with if’s and but’s, and cherries and nuts then everyday would be Christmas.
All the best. Cheers!
At times getting away from it all is the only thing that will refresh the kid like spirit within. Planing a getaway is easy. Pick some place you haven’t been for a while, is met with…. ” The same place again?” Remember when it was last visited? Instead of saying. ” Not again! ” Go out of your way to make it a new experience. Like checking out new out-of-the-way places that were missed last time. New trails to hike, camp, or fish. Some would even say new places to go shopping. But to each their own on that.
Rest and relaxing, isn’t the only things to do on such a getaway. Rest you can do in bed at home. Relaxing? Well could do it, on the deck off the back of your house enjoying the back yard. Now that’s a been there, done did that moment. But just changing things up a bit will bring new prospective to the place you are currently living. Get on your horse and ride… Okay your steel horse and ride… the car will do for a last resort. Refuse to listen to repetitive questions of, ” Are we there yet?” Relax life isn’t a race to the finish line!
Pick a get-a-way that you remember when you where a kid and your parents took you to this special place. There has got to be plenty of places in your mind. Pick one and treat it like a first time experience, even if you when there many times. Then put on your tourist hat, and wonder about, go through some of these great places from your neck of the woods with child like amazement. Looking for the simple, new angle to this place we call close to home– the day get-a-way.
Capilano Suspension Bridge;
A Meir 100 miles away from home base. Canada offers up this somewhat hidden suspension bridge. Just minutes from down town you’re in a different place and time. Named the Capilano suspension bridge, its location in the close proximity to the Vancouver city’s downtown shopping district, Stanly park, and the water front. Makes it easy to go to. But also gives the day tourist an out in the woods experience, yet getting back to the life of the bustling city in time for a nice sit-down dinner, or a beer at an outside pub. Point is. This place is great discovery!
Just outside Stanly park, just over the lions gate bridge, there is capitano suspension bridge. The lions gate bridge is great place to go and check out as well. Built like the golden gate bridge in San-francisco. Lions gate resembles the great bridge but it is shorter and not as high off the water’s surface. On the edge of Stanly park leading over a water way to what only looks like the new city’s expanse. Homes and shops and businesses. Right in the middle there is Capilano or so it seems.
At first the parking lot look like… ” How can this be a rain forest? ” But then there are a few big trees and so one can think… ” It used to be a rain forest.” Maybe they logged it off and these are the trees that grew up in their place? What ever! Act and play the part…. Touristy like! Remember?
Walking and somewhat, or running in short bursts, down some short stairs and you land on the bridges surface. Wiggly, giggly and wobbly, up and down motions. The further out onto the bridge you go the more it moves. The terrified tourists are hanging on the cables on either side. But the young free-spirited, are putting the fun and excitement into this experience. Far better than siting in a car, or having to listening to someone from a tourist trolley with that dry voice saying. ” Here is the bridge.” No you are going over a suspension bridge and just hanging from what looks like spirder-mans web.
Once across the bridge you are truly into a different world. apart from the tourists, you are in a rain forest. It can have different weather and seem cooler. At times the city can have sunshine. But the forest around the Capilano can be draped with fog or even misting rain.
There are lots to do as far as hiking goes. Follow the trails on the ground, or become a squirrel and walk smaller suspension bridges from tree to tree. These trees are all old growth trees and the cat walks or the ( Squirrel highways as I called them ) Are attached so the trees, so they can still grow without an incumbrances from them.
Once again dance across the Capilano and off to the cliffwalk. A walk where you can walk like a mountain goat. Seeing cliffs like this is only achieved by harnesses and rope. But this is the newest way to do all of that without. The cliff-walk cat walks at time are glass, totally see through. Looks like your suspended in mid-air.
The day at the Capilano was great fun and filled with learning about the wild side of life. Besides it is the experience of seeing how small places can be so different and yet just out there on the other side of a short expanse. A modern city and an ancient forest holding hands like two partners in life.
The Capilano Suspension Bridge is a simple suspension bridge crossing the Capilano River in the District of North Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. The current bridge is 136 metres (446 ft) long and 70 metres (230 ft) above the river. It is part of a private facility, with an admission fee, and draws over 800,000 visitors a year.
Getting back to the city and sitting and relaxing over drinks and talking about your experiences while planing the new one on your return trip is a nice way to wind down for the return trip home.
Thanks for coming along for the ride. Take a chance on this unique days get-a-way.
All the best.
Tim swung his 22 rifle over his shoulder copying his father, as they went out to check for trapped calf’s. Tim tried to keep pace, using almost a stride and a half to the one normal stride of his fathers. Living out on the farm was a nice break from the normal day-to-day of the concrete jungle. It was a slower pace, a less stressful existence. But most of all it was full of new experiences, different each day. Stacking hay, driving a tractor while plowing a field. Helping milking cows, riding horses. All of which made work seem less so. Learning to spend time with dad was a plus as well. Having him around to teach just how to shoot a gun, and getting to know him, even if it was spending time while working with him. Was better than watching him leave for work, as the door closes behind him. Never quite knowing if or when he would return. Yes life on the farm was different, harder at times, yet better in a strange way for Tim.
Tim struggled in keeping up, almost passing right by dad, before stopping suddenly. Looking around Tim couldn’t make out just what his father was doing.
” What? What is it dad?”
” Quiet! Can you hear that?” Dad responded. Holding one finger to his mouth.
Tim cocked his head to one side to lessen. Off in the distance he heard some mooing of a cow. ” Is that the sound of a cow in trouble?” Asked Tim quietly. not quite knowing what he should be listening for.
” No. Well I don’t think so.” Father answered. Frowning and scratching his chin a bit in trying to decide what he was hearing. ” It could be just some talking that cows do. But then again it could be that they have seen us, or smelled us and are giving out some warnings.” He crouched down and started to walk toward the mooing. ” Follow me but do as I do. Being quiet as possible. Okay Tim?”
” Shure thing dad.” Tim answered. Copying every move of his dad.
Moving to the top of a small hill on the edge of the forest. Tim’s dad pointed out just what they heard. A cow giving a warning to two little calf’s. The calf’s just kept on playing. A play wrestling of sorts. Trying to push against one another, then chasing each other around and around. Mother cow was all to keen to what was close by. She smelled Tim and his father before they got close to see them. But now she was looking at them. She knew exactly where they were. She was calling out to her calf’s with her mooing.
” Hay dad! Why don’t those calf’s listen to their mother?”
Tim’s father remembered the squabble of Tim and his mother this morning. Tim wasn’t listening to what she wanted Tim to do. ” well… What do you think mother cow is trying to say to her kids?” Tim’s father was looking at Tim and searching his facial expressions. Looking for Tim’s reactions, to see if he was seeing the similarity to his early experiences with his mother.
” Well she is seeing some danger. So she is telling her calf’s to look out or come over here.” Tim brain was only thinking thoughts of the cows, and what they were doing.
” So why don’t the little calf’s seem to see the same thing their mother is seeing?” Father was pressing Tim to think and make the connections to earlier.
” Well that easy. Mother knows more, she is smarter than those little guy’s. ” Tim answered. Glancing over to his father. ” Don’t you think so?”
” You may be on to something son.”
” Dad! If the calf’s don’t listen to mother couldn’t they get killed or eaten by something? I mean we are their friends and they seem not to be afraid. But how do they know that?” Tim was thinking through some of the dangers he could see in his young mind, as some of the many possibility’s. Before dad could answer Tim went on. So Dad paused cutting off what he was about to spit out of his mouth for a reply letting Tim continue.
” Mom’s are real smart and they know the difference between dangers. Those little calf’s should pay attention. That’s what’s wrong! Mom is trying to teach them survival. Right?”
Tim’s dad reached out and touched his son on the shoulder softly. ” Son. Why didn’t you listen to your mother this morning then?” He looked into his sons face knowing that he got it. But how would he react to hearing it from his dad. Or was he really listening to what he already concluded in his own thoughts?
Tim lowered his gaze. ” I know dad.” A small sheepish voice answered. ” I should have listened to mom. Just like the cows she knows all the dangers.”
Tim’s dad lifted his son’s head with a gentil motion of his strong hand. Then said. ” You see you can learn something from stupid cows.” As he let out a little laugh. ” How about following these cows lead. Listen to your mother, she knows best!”
Tim knew he should make better choices. Just like what mom cow was trying to teach those calf’s, Tim’s mom was trying to teach him just like that, so he had to do better with his mother as well. After all mom and dad had the same job to do. Raise up their young, safe from all the dangers in life. The ones that Tim and those calf’s couldn’t recognize for themself’s just yet.
Sounded by the concrete jungle people and kids alike do not always get the same opportunity’s to see nature as it works. With out the ability’s to see cows trying to teach lessens to their calf’s. Lessens learned through work and good habits built through seeing nature, and how natures creatures react to problems in life. Often not all that different then people’s, and how they choose to react to problems. Without the ability’s to see this in action, live in nature, who would know then or even make the connection, while what seem like watching silly animals from a distance. Is a true learning experience.
People in general live in an unnatural state of being. What would be common place in nature as seeing wrong or right. Is just too much for the most part common place to a city dwellers life. Not necessarily see the same things in normal every day occurrences. Parents are hardly ever around. When they are, kids are trying to escape their rules or escape life, through video games, the internet, TV, or countless other mindless distractions. Where is that taking place in nature?
observing in our entertainments young minds will see more, murders, rapes, muggings, theft, vandalism, disrespect of people and their belongings, as common place. Along with spending countless hours alone at home free from parental supervision, free from house rules or guidance of parents who could in force some house rules. This leaves kids to create a un-natural reality of the world and how it works. Expectations slowly eroding away, wrong and right melting into puddles of undistinguishable differences.
It is no surprise that people have less of a call to service when they see someone assaulting another. Less of a willingness to step up and help a stranger in need. More likely to fall prey, being paralyzed as what to do in a time of an emergency. An explosion in the populations mind-set with less of a sence of self-reliance, self-help, net alone helping others in the same situation, or even charity freely given. Charity for the most part is thought of as giving of money. Never really considered as giving of time to something, or someone else then self. Without any expectations for some kind of return.
Human reasoning within their minds have been increased to becoming numb, only seeing distortions to normal right vs wrong. For the most part the battle within every persons thoughts in choosing for themself’s never really crosses their minds, or is even asked of themself’s. So the actions of how people are treating people these days have become unnaturally cold.
Almost every problem in modern society has been magnified in the concrete jungle / the city’s, as common place. Yet these same problems exist every where that humans live, it is to a lesser degree experienced in those community’s that have easy access to observing nature in a natural setting. Even though farms and the animals on them aren’t wild animals in their natural state. These animals have at times better answers to problems then humans in the city’s do. There is a lesson to be learned, in caring for as well as living off the land. Lessens that may go with us, from our youth into adulthood. Lessens that are in short supply in the city’s, and unpopular with government.
Almost every job on the farm is for survival of the farmer and his family, as well as other people he doesn’t even know in his country / world. It is there for an up lifting experience. Fostering an attitude of charity, and giving, standing for right against wrong. Recognising that there is a higher power in this struggle for life and it isn’t called ( Bigger government! ) Just some of the missing elements of modern life in the city’s. Echoed throughout the concrete jungles, drownded out from the hum of modern machinery. Where the non-existent nature lives.
All the best.
Pictures provided by the web ( FOTO services ) A free picture page. Thanks guys for the pics.