Everyone needs one thing in life about which they become impassioned. Is it Love? Is it children? Is it marriage? It may include any or all of those things, but those are the “symptoms” to IT. The IT is the fire that burns within each person’s soul and keeps us wanting to wake up each day.
IT is layered and frosted, permeated and infused in every activity, every person or event of which you can taste the flavor of IT, and in what direction you may endeavor to pursue. But IT is the one thing that drives us all.
IT will never be subjugated, will never be ill met. IT will make you get up every morning and sigh joyously when you die. But! If in any way that IT is taken from you, if it leaves you, if for some reason, it was made to seem valueless to you, without it you may descend into depression, even death. What is it? IT is different for every person.
Weight Watchers tells you that you must remember the “Why.” THAT is the IT I’m talking about.
IT is PURPOSE.
Everyone has a purpose for living. For some women it may be their husbands, or their children. For some men it may be their wives, their children too. For some people it may just be the recognition they never had as a child, or it may be the need to resolve what they never could resolve for someone long gone. Whatever that IT is, IT is the most strong driver in anyone’s life.
You MUST find your purpose in life. Maybe you just want to help people be happy; find that position where you can do that. Maybe you just want to be loved; make yourself authentically lovable. Maybe you just want to participate in a project that will bring many to a higher level: join a team that feels the same way you do. But look for your IT, your PURPOSE and when you find it, do NOT let it go–EVER. It is your true spirit. It is what God intended in you.
I’ve known too many people who have chosen the road of “suicide.”
We say they were selfish or self-indulgent, and there is perhaps some truth to that. But we might also recognize that being most likely highly sensitive at the start, they were never equipped to have handled what others determined they should handle. Hence, “the weaker brother,” alluded to in the Bible and thereafter in songs, poems, discussions, in any section of communication that talks about emotional stamina, or emotional characteristics, or emotional growth.
So in my sad perusal over some people that decided to end it all, I analyzed a bit, then wrote a poem. This was not today, this was a long time ago. If you read my poetry page, it’s on there. I just wanted to write a little about the many people who have thought about it, or are still thinking about it…please do not end your life. Find someone who is stronger and don’t mind carrying you emotionally awhile.
I have never called a suicide hotline when I got that far, nor have I ever taken medication for my depression, and I might add, I’ve been quite depressed at times. Sometimes, it may even be better to talk to a stranger at a bar, or an elderly person on a park bench, or someone distant in the family. Suicide preventionpeople can get burned out sometimes, too. But there is usually a reason why they have decided to work the hotlines; perhaps they may have lost someone very dear to them, someone they loved and did not recognize as a potential suicide victim. I’m there many times, along with you on that depression cycle. Many people struggle with depression or desperation, feeling they have no options, but there are always options—they are just a little scary when thinking about making a stand or a change. Nonetheless, you are NEVER alone, in ANYTHING! Seek out someone, ANYone, just do not go into that dark night alone.
Brighter days do come and It’s all worth it as time goes on, you just have to ride the waves and get to the calm and the beauty of it.
Another thing: who cares what people think about your hardships or your depression. Better to let people think you’re insane, and blurt out what you need to know on the communication line, to help you get through what it is you do not know how to get through, than to suffer in silence and feel unable to make it alone.
Sometimes we hang up on one servicer because they simply do not really know how to serve; or they did not seem to know how to recognize your problem, so we hang up and never call back, but call back; to get someone better to talk to. That is the same thing we have to do in life. Let me use as a metaphor the suicide hotline, but it’s useful for any aspect of life.
If our parents aren’t that communicative, find someone who is (that’s a “call” for help). But if that person expects any kind of emotional or physical remuneration when you are yet unable to return the emotional support, hang up! Call back and find someone else who is much stronger and does not need help emotionally (a different servicer or person to talk to).
My remedy here may seem simple but life was never meant to be so hard. There are a million and one people out there who really do care. Keep in mind we have over seven billion people on earth—you think having hit and missed 10 is a lot? You just have to keep looking until you find one. Sometimes, it takes a whole lifetime of hanging up and calling back, and sometimes we have to keep getting more and more information, so don’t stop with just one call. And remember, while you are in the activity of calling, you will have moments of clarity or epiphanies, or what some people call “a-ha” moments. Life grows, and if you pay attention, so will you, but don’t give in too early.
People are all on different wave lengths, meaning they all have different intelligences, or levels of understanding, and you also are in that array of intelligence and understand, so you have to consider your source, and consider the source that you are too. Find the right one for the right need.
Please: go out and live, and make that call when you have to!!
People say, “you still thinking about that dog?” How insensitive. But I understand, perhaps …
Some people have never lost a daughter to schitzophrenia and bipolar and hallucinations that i am some kind of monster, and to make it worse, she’s married to a man who advocates this, and keeps her dillusions alive, for his control.
In my sorrow, I replaced my emotional loss with a loving little 3mo old tiny Yorkie pet, who at the time, fit into my hand. He was a sickly little fellow, and oh so tiny. They told me he would never get more than 4 lbs.
I made him as healthy as I could. He lived for 12 years, was 6 lbs, and of course began to show signs of what I was told may happen: he had a prolapsed trachea, common in those types of breeds. In other words, he was suffocating to death.
I know he longed to stay with me. I could tell by the looks he gave me while trying to breathe. He could no longer sleep lying down, thus, could no longer sleep. Within 3 days, he was standing and stumbling, while I carried him as much as possible, but even that was not comfortable for him.
Yet, still: my daughter remains alienated to me for 15 years now.
Edison could finally not get air, and I had to….I was forced, even by the veternary doctor, to put him down, he was suffering.
When he died it was like I lost my daughter again. But worse: I lost my most treasured friend, who was with me at my business office since he was a tiny shoebox baby. He was evidently tied to that entire time in my life, I did not know it then, and I did not know it even when he died… But I know it now. He was my only connection to the healing of that time… The wound of his departure does not seem to heal, and I cannot–nor will I, forget him…
I still have his partner, I call her, his “wife,” lol! It’s kind of hard to explain. I love her, and I love my two cats, all of my pets: I love them very much. But Edison was the first pet I had afterI lost my daughter, and I gave him the love and care I wished I could give her, and I was rewarded by his very loving loyalty.
I will NEVER forget my little man, Edison… It will be one year in February 10th…I will never forget him, and I pray almost every single day, that God would allow our pets to be in heaven, because I am looking forward to holding him and seeing him again.
Well…so… the new year has begun, and if what’s happened so far is any indication of what’s coming, I had better take cover and plan a strategy for survival.
First of all, I was fine all year until the day before New Year’s Eve. I caught that awful flu that turns into bronchitis, and if one is not careful, it can turn into pneumonia.
That was the beginning.
Then as I lay dying and coughing painfully, I tried to allay my desperation by reading. I read Vanity Fair, an article about all these TECHIE people, whose view of the world is sick, for they seem to think it really is their oyster because they are making so much money hand over fist. You would have to read the article yourself, to get equally as disgusted and angry.
Earlier, before the flu, my beautiful iphone 6Plus died. I had to get another one. I did not even get the top of the line, and it cost me over $500! But what are we going to do, we’ve got to have a phone, and there is virtually NO MORE telephone company for regular phone service.
I mean…LOOK AT ALL THOSE PHONES. THEY ARE HEADING IN PRICE WELL OVER $1000! WHY do we need so much on our phone, just to amuse ourselves?
I have been feeling betrayed for a long time now, and I’m not talking about my love life. I am talking about in general as one of the masses.
I love the movie, “The Fisher King.” There is one line I really took to heart. It was when Jeff Bridges had realized his role in the murder of many people and three years later he appears to be a drunk.
A child gives him a little Pinnochio doll, and he begins to talk to it. He says, [drunk and talking to the Pinocchio doll] “You ever read any Nietzsche? Nietzsche says there’s two kinds of people in the world: people who are destined for greatness like Walt Disney… and Hitler. Then there’s the rest of us, he called us “the bungled and the botched.” We get teased. We sometimes get close to greatness, but we never get there. We’re the expendable masses. We get pushed in front of trains, take poison aspirin… get gunned down in Dairy Queens.”
Nietzsche’s observation struck me when I read the Vanity Fair article, and for some reason I really began to feel duped about how the world is playing out. Especially when I know how difficult it has been for me to attain my goals because I am too busy acquiring student loans (but no job), and paying my respects to Verizon, IPhone’s thief mob, MAC, and all the other techies that are creating great wealth on our backs, as we toil further and further into the ground.
I don’t know what to do about it. But for starters i want to get rid of all my websites, social media connection, apps, and whatever follows.
I don’t mind being called “backward,” because backing out of this joke of a techniclly advanced life is not, and never has been meant for my wealth or health, but for the few who know how to manipulate “the masses.”
So welcome 2018, ,maybe it’s time for Silicon valley and all those techie sleaze bags to get foreclosures on their homes and become homeless; let them know what other people go through while they are having their sickening sleaze lives. This is my rant for the month. Enjoy it. Read Vanity Fair this month.
LOOK HERE. WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THIS LITTLE DOG?
When I first encountered this little spoof about a dog taking on human characteristics, I laughed. Sure! it was funny, and it was endearing.
Could it be true? I mean, couldn’t it be possible for animals to know exactly what we are thinking simply by reading our brain waves? Because after all, thoughts are invisible.
Although we KNOW one is alive mentally by those brainwaves moving about on the scientific screen, science has yet to evolve to spirituality–and we don’t know if it ever will.
Science reads brainwaves only, in the physical world; it has no connection to the spiritual world, hence, there is not a spiritual universe for those who follow science ONLY… Thus, we cannot say whether or not animals can read our human brainwaves too.
Who is to say that animals can’t read our brainwaves in some animal form, that they too, are capable of using, in their own spiritual universe… maybe they are assessing what we are thinking…hmmmmm.
When we look at an animal, not all of us see anything other than some kind of living critter, which to our mind, needs only food, sleep, sex, and an occasional jaunt around the outdoors, with others of its kind.
Writers, to which group I belong, take things a step further than the average person, because it is in the writer’s nature to ponder EVERYthing.
Writers think way beyond what others might be thinking, or they are able to interpret to themselves what they are thinking; others simply don’t exercise that portion of their brains.
Perhaps science does not see the value, most likely because science does not seek a spiritual level of existence. Science is a doubting Thomas as a whole; it only believes what it sees, touches, hears and smells.
Whereas, most Writers do value the unseen, spiritual realm and emotional apperatus, untouchable. Writers see to find the TRUTH in existence, hence, they are constantly seeking… And seeking, makes for very astute observers.
Thus, who is to say or not to say whether or not the dog, displayed above, isn’t really thinking about his “master” cleaning up his poop, and then wondering if his master is going to serve his food not having washed his hands? Can you at least agree with me it’s possible?
On the other hand, another dog might be looking at his master, not even considering his hands when picking up his dog’s poop. That dog may be thinking, “I’m hungry, I wish he’d hurry up!” Therefore, animals in their own universal thought process, can be just as different as humans in their thought processes.
So let me share with you a thought or two about this quality of observation from the standpoint of a Writer. Because all of the above rhetoric was only a segue into the conversation in which I am about to enter.
Every living, breathing critter (including humans), have a certain character, or certain characteristics that identify them distinctly. That is true about animals, too. Have you not ever noticed the difference in one pet from another? One may bit easily, another may be the kindest, docile pet you could ever have. Then, another pet could be totally observant, and another could follow anyone without knowing them, while another would run until its heart stopped, from anyone they do not know. THAT, my friends, reveals character and characteristics.
So now, let’s turn out attention to the human. Humans definitely have characters and characteristics that identify them as a certain character, as well.
Great novelists and authors use their observations to assess character, in everyone–in everything! This includes people, animals, birds, bovine, equine, the weather, the ocean and all its movements at different times of the day, or night. Writers and novelists even enlist themselves into arguing with one another over how to define such observations and the events in which they exist.
I am talking about changes in scenery, depending upon whose viewpoint is being showcased. If a doctor sees someone having a heart attack, you might have a report that looks like this: the patient went into full cardiac arrest, with assorted arythmia at start, then complete flatline within 45 seconds… Whereas a truck driver might see it like this: the guy wacked out, I think he was seizing or somethin’ and foaming at the mouth like some dog bit e’m or somthin…
From the truck driver’s view, the hospital may seek for dog bites, or wounds, while attending to the arythmia. But the doctor’s view will have the hospital team go directly to working on the heart.
Because of these two different reports, those who hear their reports may react to taking action differently. In one case, the report indicates less than life or death. In the other report, hospital staff will read the report as a matter of life or death indeed.
But what am I really talking about?
I am talking about Writing. I am talking about actual events in a Writer’s tendencies: of observation, analysis, definitions and elements of characterization. And then, comes the “reporting” (writing of a story or novel).
I remember in college a professor stating that without the plot, there is no significance in character, hence the plot comes first.
He was dead wrong. But HE was the teacher, and I the student. I’m glad I’m not so gullible as to think simply because someone is employed with credentials that they might be more informed than myself.
Characterization is everything, otherwise, the world could be turning, plants could be growing, plots could be happening through tornadoes, and so forth, but who would recognize the plot if not for some kind of character interpreting it?
One must admit that without conscious effort to recognize an event or “plot” of sorts, there is nothing. There is only oblivion. There is no recognition and definition of the event occurring at all.
So it is very important. Characterization in a story of any kind, is the key to learning how to evolve into the spiritual realm of existence.
Assuming my readers here agree with me, I will begin a teaching series of characterization, come January, 2018.
Remember: the perspective of the Character is created by the Writer, who dictates the Character’s behavior and thought process, and the careful plotting of this aspect in the story (characterization) will affect the Reader as the Author desires, and as the Character presents.
Again, Writers make their entire life’s purpose defining actions and thoughts, and all that those two elements enclose, giving the meaning to the character’s “perspective,” and the Reader’s potential for growth toward a spiritual universe.
Writers create the world Readers read, in order for humans to evolve into larger intellects…which leads to a spiritual awakening. Well, at least Many Writes do, I cannot speak for them all. I see myself in that group.
May your 2017 end with joy, Merry Christmas, and on to the new coming year.
I am at that “jumping off point” as described in “Fried Green Tomatoes,” denoted by Jessica Tandy’s character, which means I’m at the end of my life, or pretty near anyway.
I managed not to listen to my parents and chose to learn what ever I wanted to learn, however I wanted, because I had absolutely no respect for my parents. You see, I was the last of six kids, my parents did not get along (I didn’t know why then), and both of them left most of the time, to escape the poverty and disarray of the home life, leaving us 6 kids alone most of the time.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. My eldest brother was 12 years older than I, my eldest sister 10 years. But as each grew, each left, and it was me in the last stand, suffering the comedic tragedy and the irony of the whole thing. i am talking about what came by that time.
Then, when things got sticky and messy, and I had to pay for my consequences, I began to remember what it was my parents tried to teach me, and suddenly I worshipped them and longed to see them again. Of course, this was long after they were gone, and I sorrowed tremendously over losing them.
I have in my old age, accepted the consequences of my obstinance, and endured the pain for which I was blamed in the lives of others who were in my care, because in my heart I knew I deserved it, even though I was never malicious, only ignorant, because I did not want to learn from others…
But in reality, I did the best I knew how., considering we all say that, but never admit that had we listened to those who had already gone down those roads, we could have learned a little better…that is, of course, if they themselves knew what they were doing.
So what it is I am trying to tell you is that I learned a very valuable lesson in life, at this jumping off point.
There is a good many things about our parents that we could call “teaching” moments; sometimes the lesson is what NOT to do. Other times, they may have some hidden wisdom in an area and not even realize they are bestowing it upon their young. You don’t need to question how they go about finding these things out. You just need to trust them, sometimes.
That is alright. Simply because you can see they do not know what they are doing at times, does not give us the right to disrespect them, or deny them any honor at all. Even when they stumble over their own lives, they try to do their best. Sometimes, if nothing else, we could choose to look at those things they may be good at handling, as pearls in the midst of a soggy, staled, outer layered shell.
For example, my father was very good at maintaining his calm while trying to explain something very important. It may be that the content seemed minuscule in the area of importance, like “keep the handles on the pan inward from the outside of the stove, so you don’t bump into it and get burned.”
The point is: it was HOW he explained it, that was the lesson.
We would shrug, whine, and hassle him for telling us over and over again and yet, he told us over and over again. He never got angry for telling us, and he always spoke kindly, with warm eyes, a slight smile, and at the level of understanding of our age (about 10 or 11 years). THAT was the lesson. How to speak to a child of that age, with a disposition of rebellion. He never saw it, but to this day, I keep the handles inward, and have never been burned.
My mother I am sure was bipolar, in the words of today’s hack doctors. She was emotional, and she hurt easily, and having been caught in a generation gap did not make it easy for such a person to adapt to a new way of the world.
In fact, many of us from generation to generation will experience a gap that we have to bridge inside of us. However, for those who held tightly the beliefs, the strengths of their generation, it is very difficult to let go if they are expected to do so. Add to that a hypersensitive person’s emotional apparatus, and you have yourself what the newly installed generation calls “bipolar.”
But one thing I always saw in her, as well as my father. She always prayed when she was alone. I might have peeked at her, and maybe that was a bit menacing. But she was so engrossed in her prayer that she never noticed or heard me or paid any attention. The lesson I learned from both of them in this area, is when you are doing something of value to you, nothing should get in the way of it.
How quick we are to complain, to blame others, to see only the negative of things.
Yes, there are negative things that need to be skewed, but there are also things that need to be remembered and honored as well…. like the hard job of parenting, and our parents who never got a manual to know HOW to raise us. And when a family has money enough to care for their young, and when a family has education enough to see the teaching moments for their children…. and when family has managed to do well in life in many areas, it will obviously be a little easier. But try not to think too much about what you did not have, and think about the tiny little things that helped you get a little better than your parents; that’s how civilization evolves…and we are part of that… I am more thankful than ever, now… that I am almost there with my ancestors.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND MAY YOU HAVE THE BEST NEW YEAR OF YOUR LIFE. AND DON’T FORGET WHY CHRISTMAS IS EVEN SO IMPORTANT: IF IT WAN’T FOR HIM WHO CAME, AND WHO WAS THE EPITOME OF TRUE LOVE, we ourselves would not know how to forgive.
It’s not easy being a Christian in a modern world. I have always been a warring child, and thus a warring woman. Yes, it’s true, I’ve always had a warring spirit within me. You might say I was very much like Isaiah, Rahab, or Peter. I am afraid of what that may mean, because their lives were definitely saved, but they went through horrendous suffering in life. Nonetheless, that is my DNA. I think God had planned on my being a warrior in prayer, because that is how I approach prayer, like a warrior who wants to eradicate evil, and save those who are weak and in need.
People like to make people like me out to be corny, nerdy, or worse, rebellious. But it serves a purpose when you’re a Christian, or I like to call myself better, a “Christ believer,” because the title “Christian” has become filled with yeast, or dilluted by so many who call themselves as such, but like me, they have trouble abiding.
As a little girl, I always had trouble listening to my parents because I was quite observing and critical. If they told me to obey Jesus, but they had trouble, I’d say: “Why should I, you don’t. I’ll figure it out myself.”
Looking back, there is no way I can say any longer, that my parents were poor parents; on the contrary, they were wonderful saints of Christ, why? Because they failed miserably as human beings, but they remained steadfast in their belief in Christ. That is the “ticket to ride,” when it comes to following the Lord.
When I think of the little rebel I was ALL MY LIFE, it stands to reason I have a lot of consequences that won’t go away now, much like Corrie Ten Boom.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corrie_ten_Boom
For you younger people, it would do you good to look her up. Yes, I am a wild horse when it comes to becoming subject to others, but then again, I also am stubbornly sticking to the Lord, regardless of my human failings, which means: yes, I’m human, but I am saved by the grace of God through Jesus the God-Man, the Christ.
I’m still rebellious in many ways, I’m not a follower of people, it’s true, though I’ve let them influence my decision making, and usually mixed with my interpretation of what I think is best, and admittedly I haven’t made very good choices. But one thing I know: “forgetting what is behind me, and looking toward the prized of the high calling of Christ Jesus, I press forward…” So it’s all good. Life is tough, but God is tougher, I think I’ll just ride the storm with God. Blessings upon this earth and mercy big time!
I was listening to this beautiful song, orchestrated with lead singer, Allison Cross, and it crept up on me; I saw past scenes, of which I remembered so many wonderful memories as a child.
I am not of European ancestry at all. In fact, my Daddy was from Maztzaclan, Mexico. My Mama was from Texas. She used to tell me that he was an orphan of Apache descent, but raised by a Mexican woman. When he was about 17-18 yrs. old he joined the Mexican army, but he had his own intention. He crossed the border, threw off his uniform in the wilderness, and went into California, started his career as a radio singer. Later, he played the part of an Indian in the western pictures, getting shot and falling off his horse.
Being older, he never mastered the English language, while my mother, from Texas, never allowed us to speak Spanish. Her history goes like this: in school, she was slapped or hit by teachers if they heard her speaking Spanish. So, she wanted us to be as American as any other immigrant, European or Latin, French, whatever.
As the years went on, my father became a Southern Baptist Minister, and he preached and ministered to the Mexican farm workers, since he also worked them. I will never forget his beautiful voice and his way of teaching. Although I would not speak it I understood everything he said.
When I was 17, and pregnant, my father while traveling to Mexico for his convention, was killed in a car accident. That fact has continued to illuminate so many of my senses of loss, and fears. To lose someone so far away, when you need them most was the beginning of my devastating life.
Years later when my mother died, it opened that old wound, and I understood the words I heard before: I am an orphan now.
This song reminds me of when I was a very small child. My family sung like this, in church. To boot, my grandfather was a minister as well. So my whole upbringing was “about that good ol’ way.”
I am old now, and remembering those days as a child has brought me comfort in this old body, longing to see all my family again, for nearly all of them have passed.
I still believe, and I plan to see them again, i pray to see them again. … Daddy, I miss you… Mama, too, but I had you with me in so little of the time… I will rejoice when I see you again…