Some lies have inherent and well-meaning intentions.
Some lies are purely self-serving and evil, and always have significant negative effects that often cannot be anticipated or calculated.
A pathological liars lies result from serious insecurities.
Poor self esteem and a burning self-loathing.
The lies are their truth. A pathetic attempt to bolster their feelings of self worth.
This backfires when the juvinile behavior is reconzed and called out for what it is:
Lies
Untruths
Bullshit
The lies are known to some as “The Art of the Deal”
The lies reveal the liar’s weakness, lame attempt to bolster their standing in life, the desperation to be seen as something other than what and who they really are.
There’s nothing more frightening and threatening to a liar than the truth.
Would a Kindergarten teacher be proud of a former student who was bright and talkative, and often seen leading the playground effort for having fun?
I would think so.
Would this same teacher be honored to have such a caring student who helps others in the classroom when they see another fellow 5 year old struggling with putting on their coat, or encouraging them to join the sing-along?
I would think so.
Would this teacher be appreciative of this student and want to recognize the show of promise as being a true humanitarian, who recognizes that fellow students are friends, have similar cares, joys, and worries.
I would think so.
Then this Cherub grows up and becomes the leader that was predicted in Kindergarten. But this leader has been hardened and misguided over the years, and thinks leadership means bullying, insulting and judging people.
This now confused and misguided adult has fallen in line with a group of people whose hard core meanness is mistaken for sound and logical governance.
The list of innocent kindergarteners that fit the above description is extensive now, and these over-achievers have been inserted into our government and malicious media, turning our cherished freedoms and individualities into a dangerous circus.
That kindergarten teacher is dismayed, confused, concerned, and is trying to make sense of how people turn ugly.
I try to take a walk every morning during the time when daylight is hovering over the long darkness of the night. A time when the animals are just waking up, or possibly just heading to their resting place until darkness falls again. I see wild boars, owls, and alligators in the pond just before I enter the forest. I hear a symphony of singing, rustling leaves, and squirrels spiraling up and down tree trunks and over branches.
I value this time that affords me a peaceful way to start the day. I marvel about how all of the characters in the woods seem to get along. The trees, bushes, the animals who seem to mind their own business tend to stay away from each other. I know that nature has a deep and complicated eco-system that is characterized by survival of the fittest, but I don’t have to witness this first hand on these walks. I’m grateful for that.
But lately, I’ve have had real difficulty concentrating on the calmness and seemingly neutral surroundings on my morning sojourns. My mind has been swirling with thoughts and worries about the diminishment of common decency among humans, the regression of the core principles that our country was built upon, and the resulting divisions, hate and the destroying of our way of life in our beloved United States of America.
It all has me thinking of childhood lessons learned about compassion, acceptance, and equality which are being questioned, disregarded, and 86’ed by the very people who have benefited from them.
The lessons about love, inclusion, and recognition which were assimilated into our daily lives are being eroded, abandoned, and ignored by the very people who have benefited from them.
The simple lessons about caring, sharing and being thankful are being diminished, invalidated, and yanked by the very people who have benefited from them.
The more complicated lessons about trusting leaders, institutions, and liberty are fading, weakening, and being cancelled by the very people who have benefited from them.
The pillars and core principles of decency, righteousness, and inclusion that this country was built upon and hummed along on for so many years, are being hijacked, stolen, and shanghaied by the very people who have benefited from them.
This is all crafted to divide, foster hate, and to ultimately destroy our way of life to benefit the few power hungry, wealthy, unhinged “leaders” who have very mistakenly taken control of our beloved country.
This has nothing to do with Right vs. Left, religion vs. politics, or wealthy vs. poor.
It has to do with right vs. wrong, innocence vs. evil, humanity vs. power.
Understanding what is happening requires common sense, compassion, and knowing that what happens to any of us happens to all of us.
The Universe hears and answers: “My child, you are the biggest victim of all.”
But the more important question has not been asked.
The Universe guides your next question: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who am I a victim of?”
There is only one answer to this question.
Why do I feel like a victim? Let’s see, you were mistreated by someone, or by countless people. Things didn’t go your way when you were 8 years old. You didn’t get picked for the team.
Everybody has a story, or two, or more about how they were mistreated, misunderstood, not dealt with fairly, etc.
So, you say, “See! I am justified by my victimhood. I endured unfairness.”
The Universe makes another comment: My child, insight and self-reflection are terrible things to lack.
Turn away from the mirror and ask yourself how miserable do you want to feel?
How long do you want to waste your precious life being a victim?
If you cannot answer either of these questions in a way that protects you, then go back to the mirror. The reflection you see reveals the answer to who is responsible for both your victimhood and your well-being.
The mirror doesn’t lie.
The mirror holds the truth.
“There are two kinds of suffering. There is the suffering you run away from, which follows you everywhere. And there is the suffering you face directly, and so become free.” ~Ajahn Chah
***The story above only describes self-inflicted Victimhood. It in no way diminishes the very real and unacceptable experiences of victims of crimes perpetrated by criminals or crimes against humanity at the hands of rogue Governments.***
It seems that there are ideas swirling around constantly about how to be happy, content, wealthy, skinny.
How to laugh, exercise, eat healthy, be creative, be brave.
How chasing after exotic places, more sleep, kinder people, and youthfulness can be on our mind at times.
But the truth is, every single idea, thought, emotion, place has an opposite.
It’s perfectly fine to chase and want the things that we believe will enhance our existence, but we must not waste a moment of time thinking or wishing that the opposite of what we seek won’t also land in our lap.
It’s the simple truth of Yin and Yang.
We would not enjoy all of the goodness if we don’t also experience all of the differing and opposing possibilities along the way.
This giraffe has nothing to do with anything really, but maybe she will make you smile.
How do you measure a life, a friendship, connected hearts?
-In all of the times spent laughing
-And the times spent crying
-In the times trading stories in the high school cafeteria
-During the times spent listening to music
-The times calling each other out of concern during an illness
-Or the times just being together during the many seasons of loss
-The sharing of times with mutual friends
Never considering that one day, the fun and magic will end.
Seven-Hundred and Ninety-Three is the number of text messages that Diane and I shared over the last three years. The number of times we thought of each other under the swirling realm of cyber space. The number of times we texted to each other, “I love you, Diana”. The number of times we wrote “Nytol” just before falling off to sleep. The number of times we traded funny emojis, sad emojis, bright and colorful emojis. The number of times we supported each other, laughed on line, cried together, and just enjoyed our life-long friendship.
Diane was a year old and I was two when our lives joined.
A relationship that began without consciousness.
A life time of being tethered souls.
We called each other Diana.
My life will forever be missing a piece that just was.
I’ll miss you for the rest of my days, Diana.
Let the music guide you and hold you in the light for eternity.
With what seemed like little effort back then, we planned, packed and piled into our vehicles with several days’ worth of food, shelter, clothing, matches, and burnable dinnerplates. And an abundance of anticipation, heading to Follensby Clear Pond in the Adirondacks to pick out our camp site on one of the three islands. It was first come, first served. We all agreed on which site was our favorite, but any site would do. We just wanted to camp, be together, and have fun.
We had a row boat with a little motor, several tents, coolers, and cookware.
We had tarps, many gallons of water, and a few axes.
We brought our dogs, fishing poles, and beer.
For a few days every summer, we lived like royal out-doors people.
Our days began with the best camp fire coffee ever brewed.
Camp fire bacon and eggs were next on the list along with toast browned to perfection by the coals and dancing flames. We stuffed ourselves, took our seats in our little camp chairs, and gazed outward on the beauty of the forest, the soft organic ground, the shadows that changed with the wind and time, and the crystal-clear water of the pond.
Lunch was our next fun challenge. It frequently consisted of cheese and crackers and other forbidden snack foods, and of course a beer or two. After lunch, some took naps, some read books or did crossword puzzles, and some went fishing. The dogs basked in the sun, always with one eye open for catching a glimpse of the chipmunks who were systematically stealing their kibble right out of their bowls.
Late in the afternoon, the coolers opened again, and the ingredients for the chicken teriyaki stir-fry dinner were set out on make-shift tables, and dinner prep commenced. Slicing and dicing onions, garlic, broccoli. The chicken was always prechopped and frozen at home, ready for the frying pan. My brother Paul placed himself in the position of head chef, and began the culinary process of putting this camp meal together for the whole group. He never showed up without a bottle of Teriyaki sauce. The rest of us were sous chefs and knew our roles exactly. We had done this so many times.
The gathering of twigs and downed, seasoned trees was the next group effort in preparation for an evening fire. The sound of loons, the occasional hum of an 8 horse power motor, and the rustling of crispy leaves from tiny land-dwelling wildlife entertained us.
A restful night’s sleep was always guaranteed. Afterall, living in the wild required a lot of energy. And the “outlawed” pop tart was always on our minds as the morning snack before the next round of restaurant style bacon and eggs.
Paul was always the ring leader of our trips. Nothing bad could possibly happen with these remote trips that Paul couldn’t fix. We were always in good and safe hands.
After almost three decades of dreaming, talking, and planning a move to Florida, we finally did it. Moving across town requires adjustment, so it’s only logical that moving 1500 miles away is going to be an adventure (adjustment), and at the same time, an exercise in fortitude for giving up the known and heading into the unknown, unexpected, and unanticipated.
We realized very quickly that we weren’t in “Kansas” any more.
This realization was never more obvious than for the witnessing and experiencing of the driving culture here in Southeast Florida. We quickly learned that stop signs, speed limits, red lights, and common courtesy are all optional. Law and order doesn’t exist on the roadways here. It’s very necessary to adopt these ridiculous habits or get run off the road or run over. I see people on bicycles and motorcycles (no helmets!) and can’t believe their bravery. I often don’t even feel safe in my SUV.
So now, I have a very recent history of running red lights, rolling through stop signs, and rocking the gas pedal. But all in the name of safety and survival. I recently witnessed someone driving up on a side walk to make a right turn in a small town square area. He was able to make his right turn 2.5 seconds faster then if he stayed on the road. This took place while a group of us were sitting in a drum circle a few feet away.
One night, I was forced to go around someone who thought they owned the road. I had the right-of-way and was already committed to continuing when I had to go around him. He apparently didn’t like the fact that I didn’t yield for him and he followed me home. I drove past my house and turned a corner, parked and turned off my lights. I could see that he stayed at the top of my street, and backed out and left the neighborhood when he figured out that he either lost me or saw that I knew what he was doing.
But there are also so many wonderful things here in Southeast Florida.
The 330 days of sunshine and warm temperatures.
The wildlife is interesting.
The Everglades are very close and are an incredible eco system.
Notice the alligator just upstream.
The beach. This goes without saying.
So, although we are under an interesting life transformation, some good, some not so good, we’re always finding interesting scenes and things to do. All with an abundance of sunshine, sandals, and a trust that we made the right decision.
Life of a Family Dairy Farm. Senior aged husband and wife. The good, bad and ugly of the business. We love it and will try to present an ongoing tale of what happens here. Meet some of our animals and characters born here. Enjoy!
Merganser's Crossing 