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...

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.”

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?

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

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

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?

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...

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

From The Study...A conversation of possibilities. Discovering ourselves

What's right with humans...
It would appear, that anger is caused by harm, and fear is caused by
the prospect of harm. Actually, the causes of anger and fear are identical.
Only in the case pf anger, usually these things have occurred, where as
fear, there is usually merely the prospect that they will occur.
From this consideration we arrive at a familiar fact, namely,
that fear and anger go hand in hand, are caused by the same thing
In different stages so to speak. One travels on the heals of the other
or, better said, "one transformed into the other."
Another qualifying point...a person's sense of adequacy also influences the situation.
If a person feels adequate to cope with the given stimulus, they will become angry...if not
They tend to become afraid!

From The Study...a conversation on possibilities

What are the stimuli which arouse the impulse to escape in human beings?
The word which first presents itself in answer to the question is danger.
Fear is aroused by danger. This in turn leads to the question...danger to what?
The concept becomes enlarged if we say that a man will become
afraid if he detects danger physically, emotionally, and especially beliefs.
The concept can be enlarged still further if again the biological purpose
of fear is to ensure survival.

This makes sense particularly if survival is thought of not merely in terms of physical
existence, but survival of the ego, survival of personality, survival as somebody rather than
NOBODY?

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

Change happens when the pain of remaining  the same
becomes greater than the pain of change...

The Human Soul Speaks...

I go down to the ocean in the morning and depending on the hour
the waves are moving in or moving out and I say,
"I'm am miserable today, what shall, what should I do?"
And the sea says in her persistent quiet voice,
"Hush now, for I have much work to do."

Front Porch Psychology

Our lives are governed by nothing more than a string of glorified best guesses,
a constant  process of trial and error.
So what's the problem?