Monday, May 30, 2016

My Daily Walk...

Memorial Day weekend on the beach...what a sight. The first plunge into summer. What a release to let go of winter past. Young families, hoping to share a moment and maybe establish a tradition. At least that's what I think they hope for. What I noticed most was the children. For some their first experience of sand and waves. This little one, about three years old, I suppose. I guessed at her age based on the age of my granddaughter, but a good guess never the less. Red candy striped swim suit, blond hair and in her own world. That age where they explore with their senses one moment and the next just run in circles like a child possessed, or like the feeling of the greatest freedom. I think she felt free. Who knows but she was a delight to observe as she splashed her feel in the surf filled holes as the tide rolled in, paying little attention to the cries of her parents to be careful. Such beauty as she played with the waves lapping at her feet then retreating.

Then there was this father with his young son, dipping in the sand with one of those nets and  sharing the capture of a sand crab...will they remember that moment? I hope so, I will reflect on it often.

Then I noticed this small, independent one. Still wearing diapers covered by one of those Micky Mouse swim bottoms. He would not let his father hold his hand to make it to their resting spot. Very insistent  to make his way on his own. About two years old, was my guess, still a little wobble in his walk, teetered with every step, especially in the depressions of the foot prints. Almost falling with every step and when he reached the decline of the beach his little body speeding much faster than his brain. How funny as he struggled between the line of balance and face down in the sand. Pausing occasionally to do what ever his body needed to keep it all together. It suddenly dawned on me that he was experiencing what I experience. You see as you age, there is a point where one experiences the same feelings as my little friend, teetering on the  edge of balance or face down....it's so nice to be two again...

Then my eyes happened upon this young lady, under her umbrella, reading a book,then pausing and staring into the sea. Could be many souls trying to find a moment of peace but her mood was different. Behind that stare was a loneliness. You know it when you see it and it was not her loneliness that captured my attention but it was her special power.  I realized what power she had... in the magic of hiding her loneliness as she smiled and bid me a nice day...Doc

Saturday, May 28, 2016

From The Study...a conversation of possibilities



So the problem is our consciousness. Our consciousness, which means the way you think, the way you live, the way you believe, the way you react, your behavior, all that is your consciousness, which is your life. That consciousness is you. The content of that consciousness makes consciousness...

This content has been put together through time; it isn't one day's acquirement. Our brain is the result of time, evolution. Our brain is not your brain and my brain, but the brain of mankind. This is difficult for you to see, and even recognize, because we have been so conditioned that it is my brain. And it is your brain. But if you observe, human beings right throughout the world go through enormous turmoil, poverty, anxiety, insecurity, confusion, psychologically wounded, fear, fear of being hurt, physically, fear of psychological hurts, fear of death, and the enquiry, what is there beyond...

That is the content of our consciousness. And as long as there's that content, which is always divisive, which is always fragmented, our action must be fragmented. Right?

Friday, May 27, 2016

Lessons From The Sane Asylum


We human beings are what we have been for millions of years – colossally greedy, envious, aggressive, jealous, anxious and despairing, with occasional  ashes of joy and affection. We are a strange mixture of hate, fear and gentleness; we are both violence and peace. There has been outward progress from the bullock cart to the jet plane but psychologically the individual has not changed at all, and the structure of society throughout the world has been created by individuals. The outward social structure is the result of the inward psychological structure of our human relationships, for the individual is the result of the total experience, knowledge and conduct of man. Each one of us is the storehouse of all the past. The individual is the human who is all mankind. The whole history of man is written in ourselves.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

From The Sage...

“Come to the edge," he said.
 "We can't, we're afraid!" they responded.
 "Come to the edge," he said.
 "We can't, We will fall!" they responded.
 "Come to the edge," he said.
 And so they came.
 And he pushed them.
 And they flew.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

What Is The Soul...?


Just as the ocean is an intermediate realm, a template between the crust of the Earth and the atmosphere, so is the imagination an intermediate realm, a template between matter and spirit. Just as the ocean is the participatory realm that produces clouds and rain for the islands and continents, so is the imagination the participatory realm that produces the imagery of art and science and nourishes the civilizations on land.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Stopped to Ponder

                Sometimes you are caught between the intersection of you and your reflection...


Monday, May 23, 2016

What is the Soul?..? Sage advice

On the Existence of the Soul
By Pattiann Rogers

And if not for its sake, why would I go
Out into the night alone and stare deliberately
Straight up into 15 billion years ago and more?

I have cherished it. I have named it.
By my own solicitations
I have proof of its presence.


Sunday, May 22, 2016

Reflections on a Sunday morning...

for that brief moment
when the fire-fly went out…
the lonely darkness

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Just a few thoughts...

Entry Notes To Self...I posted this poem on g+ recently and it received only moderate attention. Don't know why? Is quiet good. Trying to find the author. The picture I have had in my album for quiet some time . Just waiting for the right words...sound thoughts...enjoy!

P.s. David Whalen is the author...sent to me by a dear friend...thank you!


With every note of a finger still ringing in your ears,
Every rifle, spinning, suspended in your mind,
Every crack of a drum still beating through your veins,
You know it's all over.
You know this moment will never happen again.
You know the magic in...The moment the music stopped.

When the music stops, the dance is done
So listen and dance with all your heart and mind
Always dance as if… it would be your last one
Live life to the fullest, let the dance and the music unwind

When the magic is gone, it's gone forever
So leave room for mystery, in your life every day
Leave a bit of the unknown, in your every endeavour
For when the magic is gone, it's gone to stay

For when the music stops
And when the magic is gone
You can smile and look back
At a life that's well done

For when the music once stops
You dance again never
And when the magic is gone
Sure…It's gone forever

The Art of Living Series...

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling...”

Aldous Huxley - Island

Friday, May 20, 2016

Stopped To Ponder...


Can you say tonight in parting with the day that’s slipping fast,
That you helped a single person of the many that you passed?
Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said?
Does one whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead?

Reflections From The Past...

                                   The forge class, Children’s Aid School, New York - 1911.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Stopped To Ponder...



"When my hope is all they had."


The Art of Living Series


"I need to write, to express myself through written language not only so that others might hear me but so that I can hear myself.” 

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

A funny thing happened on the way to therapy...



"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."
- Samuel Beckett


From The Study...a conversation of possibility

“Not every story has a happy ending, ... but the discoveries of science, the teachings of the heart, and the revelations of the soul all assure us that no human being is ever beyond redemption. The possibility of renewal exists so long as life exists. How to support that possibility in others and in ourselves is the ultimate question.” 

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

From The Study...a conversation of possibility


“...if you are not like everybody else, then you are abnormal, if you are abnormal , then you are sick. These three categories, not being like everybody else, not being normal and being sick are in fact very different but have been reduced to the same thing” 
― Michel Foucault

Reflections from the world

Look into the water calm
peering over its edge
into the dark and quiet place
to see the reflection of
one's face

Many thoughts can be seen
among the waters ripples
that have been made
or is it the calm serene
that one can look and
see one's life history

Is there joy and happiness
that this brings or does
one see such sorrow and pain

Does one share a simple smile
or it is a tear or pain that
reflects up into the sunshine

Only one can see what
is shown in the mirror of
water you see, it's their
own reflection that they see
to show them what life
has been made for thee.


Monday, May 16, 2016

Lessons From The Sane Asylum


“What strikes me is the fact that in our society, art has become something which is related only to objects and not to individuals, or to life. That art is something which is specialized or which is done by experts who are artists. But couldn't everyone's life become a work of art? Why should the lamp or the house be an art object, but not our life?”
― Michel Faucault

The Art of Living Series


Is anybody happier because you passed this way?
Will anyone remember that you spoke to them today?
When day is almost over, and its’ toiling time is through.
Will there be anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Stopped To Ponder


"To pretend, I actually do the thing: I have therefore only pretended to pretend."
Jacques Derrida

The Art of Living Series

Take the time to pause and open your mind to those things which you do not fully understand. You will be the better for it—and, as your feelings of awe ripple out through acts of kindness, so will the rest of us...


Saturday, May 14, 2016

From The Study...a conversation of possibility

Watershed Moments...

“Every life has watershed moments, an instant when you realize you're about to make a choice that will define everything else you ever do, and that if you choose wrong, there may not be that many things left to choose. Sometimes the wrong choice is the only one that lets you face the end with dignity, grace, and the awareness that you're doing the right thing.
I'm not sure we can recognize those moments until they've passed us.”






Friday, May 13, 2016

The art of living...

Where did life begin?
In the festering ooze of a primeval swamp?
In a submicroscopic virus?
Strictly speaking, in none of these.
For, truthfully, the question is wrong.
Life did not literally begin. Life Is.
Life is everything-every when,
At least in essence.
And of course
It depends on your definition...does it not?


Thursday, May 12, 2016

The art of living...

Gumbo to Geaux

Gumbo is a stew that originated in southern Louisiana during the 18th century. It consists primarily of a strongly-flavored stock, meat or shellfish, a thickener, and the Cajun holy trinity of vegetables, namely celery, bell peppers, and onions. Gumbo is often categorized by the type of thickener used, the vegetable okra, the Choctaw spice filé powder (dried and ground sassafras leaves), or roux, the French base made of flour and fat. The dish likely derived its name from either a word from the Creole Bantu language for okra(ki ngombo) or the Choctaw word for filé (kombo).

Matters little as to the origin, it exist. The mixture, the blending and the magic spell placed in  the roux creates a fais do-do on the taste buds.  The magic of the Roux, made from cooking together a roughly equal proportions of flour and fat. The length of cooking time determines the final flavor and texture, since the longer the roux is cooked before being added to the gumbo, the darker it becomes. A very dark roux provides a much thinner sauce with a more intense flavor than a light roux.

I view Google+ much like a gumbo. The stock of all humanity, flavored by the spices of culture, the meat of experience and the thickener of our beliefs. For me, give me a bowl of dark roux. Give me a gathering of those that have been cooked just a little longer by life. Seems they have been sprinkled by filé' powder along the way that makes them more flavorful.

Many are still stirring their pot and looking for a holy trinity, a new ingredient to define their dish they share. How does one prepare that perfect gumbo unless they know what it taste like. I do admire the effort as they place their bowl of delight on our table to sample. The ingredients are all the same but the flavors so distinct.

The secret in the flavor my friends is not in the ingredients but in the roux. The darker the roux the more flavor. Cook it slow, stir it, stir it, and pull it off the fire just before it scorches. Simple really, for the cook knew the darker the roux the more people it would feed. If hungry friends just happened to drop by in need, all you have to do is add more water and another heaping of rice.

Give me those that see life as a bowl of really good gumbo. Simple, complex in flavor and a dark roux of kindness to share with a friend in need...Doc


Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Two ole friends...

Two Ole Friends...

Some of you have seen this ole back sack and cap of mine. They have been with me for a while and they are special. They make every trip with me. They listen to all my bull shit, never say a word. Carries three pair of underwear, one pair of socks in case I have to wear socks to impress someone. Two linen shirts, a black hoody, just in case, and the basic hygiene stuff and a pair of old blue jeans, just in case I have to impress someone. A pair of sunglasses, lip balm, small binoculars and my favorite flip flops, a pair of fold up reading glasses, a note pad, a stick of sunscreen, a jar of cashews, my iPad, phone and an old first generation Nano. Carries all that for me and never complains, ..amazing. 

The cap now is a different story. About seven years old I would guess. Covered up a lot of bad crap for me...gray hair, trust me, a lot of bad hair, not just days. It can last an entire season. I liked the message that this cap gave me when I picked it up the first time from the counter. Relax...and on top of that, if your look inside there are directions for mixing The Cool Operator bar drink. Never tried it, but it's good to know its there. Just in case I have one of those blank moment emergencies and can't order my drink, I can just hand the bar keep my hat. Yep...This cap... always with me.

By the way, if you think you might need that Cool Operator recipe, let me know. Just in case you have to impress someone...after all, what are friends for?...Doc and ole friends








Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Observations from the far side of the glass...



Observations from the Far Side Of the Glass...

Social Media...as we know it today, is a reflection of our societies and its needs, or it is a new reflection of the self emerging...either way, it is worth observing and making some distinctions.

We are here in it. Why not observe and see the beliefs, thoughts and longings from the world of common humanity. Humanity is crying... you know?




Monday, May 9, 2016

A funny thing happened on the way to therapy...


I know this transformation is painfull, but you are not falling apart.
you are just falling into something different...


Sunday, May 8, 2016

From The Road...

From The Road Series...

The Ole Man With The Red Cane

This was my third encounter with the ole man with a red cane. My first he left me understanding that life has no special meaning but it exist, so by its mere existence it is meaning. Then on the second sighting I watched him from a distance and recalled a poem by Yeats, Old Men Admiring Themselves By The Sea and the chilling line, all things beautiful must fade away...

This is a cool morning for May, but bright with hues of sunrise peering from the horizon.  There he was...sitting on the shore by the sea on the small inlet of Matanzas Bay. I approached him quietly and found my space not far from his and sat in silence as we both felt the sun on our face. The silence between us was like an old friend. I felt his brief glance and in his familiar voice, he asked, "Are you the pilgrim that disturbed my peace?"

He remembered me and our first awkward encounter as I apologized for my intrusion of invading his quiet moment of grace. "I am that pilgrim, kind sir," I replied. "Seems another apology is in order."

"Found your peace pilgrim?", he questioned.

"At times, I am honored by its presence, but always looking for its return. I would even go and visit if I knew where It resides." I was not pleased with my response and felt my response may have put him off a bit, but he quickly responded. "Seems it resides in thin places for us all, like where the visible and the invisible comes to their closest proximity...where the sky meets the ocean. To seek such places is the vocation of the wise and the good and for those that find them, well...the clearest communication between the temporal and eternal."

"And sir," I asked, "do thin places reside in other than the temporal, for I sense the beauty of peace in this sunrise and even where the river meets the mountains?"

Resting his arm on that red cane, he turned and in the gleam  of his kind eyes he replied, "But perhaps the ultimate of these thin places in the human condition are the experiences we are likely to have as we encounter suffering, joy and mystery? Maybe pilgrim, just maybe."

He gave me a glance and a smile, silence between us as we watched the sun break the horizon, felt the gentle breeze as the tide changed its course, the sound of the sea birds as they made their morning search for mooring and the distant sound of the bells at St Mary's. Without a word he stood and made his slow walk down the beach and I heard him say, " find your peace with it all pilgrim." I watched until his frail figure disappeared around the bend from my sight.

There was a thin place between us this morning. Where the sky touched the ocean with its color of blue. The kiss on my face as the sun cast its warm glow, and yes, the the thin space of our conversation as his words transformed my visible peace to the experience of invisible peace we all share in our human condition.

Find your Peace with it all...
Thank you my friend with the red cane.
Ego, my friends call me Doc

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Entry Note To Self...the art of living

Journal Entry: 12/12/18 The Art Of Living How we choose what we do, and how we approach it…will determine whether the sum of our days ...