What's in a Name?

I would much rather have someone think I'm a whore and find out I'm a saint, than have them think I'm a saint and find out I'm a whore. ;)

Oppression

I was thinking about this today. I can’t remember why. Oh yes, I was listening to Elton John’s “Have Mercy on the Criminal.” Trying to imagine what state one would have to be in to say, “Lord, you gotta help me… I ain’t never gonna sin again… just take these chains from around my legs… sweet Jesus, I’ll be your friend.” (And I don’t mean the state of Georgia) But the words did compel my mind to wander to a dark place like that. The anguished face of a man in chains. I’ve never had to experience such a place, and I’ve no doubt that regardless of the active ability of your imagination, one could not come remotely close to identifying with it. I do know, though, that there are many forms of chains and many who would label us as “criminals” in order to righteously restrain us. Like anyone, I don’t believe that anyone should use the past as a means to gain control over something (or someone) else. But it’s important to realize that there are people walking among us who have been in some serious bondage. And it’s true what Harriet Beecher Stowe said… “A slave will always become a tyrant when he gets the chance.”

I do know oppression. It’s a most terrible thing. But in the end of it all… I would rather choose not to be a tyrant. And I would rather choose to be wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. We are all guilty and have no cause to set ourselves above others. So, in the words of Plato,

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Be You Blithe and Bonny

Becky Jo… the Little Root of Profundities…
Definitely a girl after my own heart… I mean, who uses that word? :)

Be sure to always read her comments… and visit her blog page…
becky-jos-blog.blogspot.com

She’s full of goodness and light.

Summer Is Nigh

You may have gathered by the recent blog entries… that I come from a family which has strong roots. These roots feed the tree quite expertly… not only the older and stronger and deeper roots, but even the young, tender ones. It’s a good tree and branches out on the earth to create a place of shade in the heat of the harsh sun and shelter during storms. It can also be a formidable sight on the horizon for anyone standing near (or even some distance from) it. There are those that have been threatened by both its magnificence and its immovability. And some of us have been “captured” by them. They like the thing they see in us. They like it that we come from a strong place. They pluck us up, plant us in the middle of a living room and tell us to grow. You can imagine how a real branch might respond to this. I suppose the concept is that a cut off branch can grow into a tree of its own. But I know this only works with some forms of flora and even then, only under certain conditions. These haphazard ones are not normally sensitive to this. So there is often harm done. Fortunate we are that we can be grafted back in to the great oak and made strong again.

The Sisters:

Tami:
Extremely capable.
Optimistic.
Reliable.
Steadfast.
Longsuffering.
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Erika:
Artistic and creative.
Full of empathy.
Driven to be always dependable.
Generous to a fault.
Forgiving.
Passionate.
Able to keep tall buildings for a single hound.

Cindy:
Poetic.
Excels in art and music.
Follows the beat of the ‘different drummer.’
Creatively humorous.
Able to heap tall buildings with a single sound.

Funny Story

The previous entry was about Mike, my sister Cindy's good friend. Her soulmate. (Cindy, by the way, is older sister, not little sister.) It was Mike's desire to be cremated and have his ashes scattered in the San Francisco Bay. The cremation was somewhat hindered, by reasons unknown to us all... but Cindy was finally able to obtain his ashes yesterday, eleven days after his death. Cindy and Tami (oldest sister) had purchased a beautiful basket to keep Mike in until such a time as Cindy can make the trip west. (Likely to take place in a couple of months... with little sister, Pedi. :) ANYWAY, last night, there was a knock on Cindy's door and it was the local police and fire department, alerting her to some sort of chemical leak eminating from next door, which would would require her IMMEDIATE evaucation of the premises... adding that the place could blow at any moment! Well Cindy rushed upstairs (before they could stop her) and retrieved the beloved basket from her bedroom, before getting into the car to leave.

We've gone ahead and summed up the evening's events as "Hauling Ash!"

How Do We Measure A Man?

Little sister said, “A good man died today.”
I always struggle with that word “good.”
It means different things to different people…
and yet another thing to society, in general.

Mike was fifty-two years old when he succumbed to the effects of this life
on his body this past New Year’s Day.
He had never accomplished anything of note.
He had spent his life indulging in many things,
some of which contributed to his demise.
Like most of us, he loved good music, good friends and good times.
To a passer-by, he might be seen as an example of a wasted life.
He had not planned for his future, nor even for the end of his future.
He lived one day at a time, and he lived each one abundantly.
His daily living expenses were provided by the state.
Mike wasn’t overly handsome. In fact, you could say that
physically, he was not attractive at all.
But he was one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever known.
When Mike looked at you, he looked at your spirit.
He was someone who always told you that you looked fantastic.
And he meant it.
Because he knew your heart and measured you by it.

When I made a decision to end an oppressive marriage of eighteen years,
Mike was astonished to find people saying of me, “Oh it’s so neat to see
Teri become such a free spirit.” He would reply, “No, no, no…
Teri has always been a free spirit… someone just parked a
semi-truck on her for awhile!"

This man seemed to have nothing but good things to give.
I looked up the word “good” in the dictionary.
Under the first entry, one of the definitions was “bountiful.”
By this definition, then truly, a good man died that day.
We’ll miss you, my friend.

Inspired by Leila (and Dan)

It’s the Way of the Cat

She has a penchant for climbing.
How they love high places!
Observing from the balcony ledge…
You feel that tingle of fear… will she fall?
Your sweet baby… whatever would you do without her!
How can she be so oblivious to your dread?
She’s aloof about so many things.
This is her charm… and your aggravation!
But when she comes to cuddle…
And purr…
You forget all that.
It’s all worth it.
She’s worth it.
And you wouldn’t have her any other way.
(Not that she’d let you ;)

The Conclusion of the Matter:

I'm not sure it really is in our nature to be with someone for the rest
of our lives just because you made this pact. You keep going as long as
you keep growing. When that dies, we do.

Brad Pitt

New Year's Resolution of Monsieur Everyman:

"I think I'm going to go ahead and continue to try to hit the bullseye
by using a shotgun."

Where it began...

In the life of a child, many things are learned.
It is often said that one of those things is our own self worth.
It is often stated that the parents in a family are responsible for
their child’s measure of this.
I disagree.
Sorta.
I believe it’s true… it really is a village, or rather a world, that trains a child.
(Also, an adult.)
There are many, many people who influence you throughout your formative years.
And I don’t believe for a minute, that ALL of those people influence you solely in the direction of valuing yourself, or devaluing yourself. There may be more of one than the other. It’s not likely that it will be a fair share of either. But no matter who you are… there is something to draw from both wells.
So it all comes down to us. At which well are we going to spend time?
And, at what point do we decide that all of those things are not going to push and pull us at will?
It’s a tricky thing… self esteem. And a battle we are all familiar with.
And although I have had people aplenty to tell me that I’m beautiful and worthy, I have just as many who would like to convince me that I am useless and hopeless.
But I have chosen to like me very much. Just as I am. (I’ve tried liking myself just as I'm not, and it just didn’t work.)
There are so many people who make a difference in our lives, from beginning to end.
In my life… it began with my parents. They taught me that I’m worth more than anything, regardless of my choices. I’ve made many bad choices. I continue to do so. And they always love me… no matter what. They have also taught me that my choices are not associated with my value. My choices give me more choices or they take choices away. They give me more freedom or more bondage. But they never make me less beautiful.

Epitaph

They say there is beefcake
For every fine lassie.
But only if you promise
To keep your fine chassis!

While his member is throbbing
To enter a beauty,
(He doesn’t care which,
Only knows it’s his duty!)

So, I’m leaving the men, to their own discredit…
And what of my cake? I already et it!

For the "short story" people:

I met a man one day, while walking at the park. When I was home teaching the children, the family would go to the park daily to walk, for exercise. We would sometimes meet people who had started a routine of the same. One day, we met a man there who chose to walk with me. We walked several times around (it was about a quarter of a mile track), which gave us plenty of time to talk. The concept of aerobic exercise is to get your heart rate at a level that is ideal for cardiovascular benefit. A good rule of thumb is to be sure that while you are working your heart, you are still able to comfortably hold a conversation. So walking and talking is a good plan. Not that I had a chance to find out if this rule of thumb was working for me, personally, as this man was doing all the talking. And I mean the entire time. He wasn’t boring or tedious. The things he said were interesting. He was intelligent and articulate and humorous. All the things one would want in a speaker. He had been many places and had done many things, which gave him plenty of interesting stories to tell. And he told them well. But in truth, the largest sentence I said during our walk was, “uh huh.” At the end of the walk he went up to my husband and said these very words, “You have a very interesting wife! You should spend more time walking with her!” Just goes to show ya… if you are interested in a person, they think you’re interesting.

Skeleton Woman

There is a story told in folklore, set in Alaska. It is of a man who went fishing one day. He chose to fish in a secluded little cove which didn’t seem to be too often visited by other local fishermen. In fact, they never visited it. For they all knew the story. The story of a girl who fell in love with a boy from a tribe other than her own… many, many, many moons ago. And not just another tribe, but one at odds with hers. Her father forbade them to marry, but she snuck off in secret to do that very thing. Her father apprehended her in the midst of her escape and he took her and threw her off the cliff into that secluded little cove, to her death. The people had passed this story down through the generations, and no fisherman was to ever draw life from that water, as it was thought to be full of the evil of that terrible event. This poor fisherman knew it not. He didn’t have his line in the water long when he felt a great tug. Oh my! This had to be a big one! As he fought with the creature to bring it to the surface, his mind wandered to all the great riches this great catch would bring him. He had struggled for so many long and weary years. It would be great to have some relief. But as the creature came into view, he realized it was not a fish at all… it was a mass of bones and hair… and a skull! And it seemed the eyes of that skull were looking right at him! He panicked. He set his pole down in the boat and immediately rowed to shore, looking back to be sure that the monster was gone. But it wasn’t, as it was still attached to his pole! But, as it is with panic, he didn’t realize this. He just frantically rowed to shore, seeing behind him the dreaded thing bouncing on the water, appearing to chase him. Once on shore, he grabbed his pole and ran for home… again, looking over his shoulder to find that he was still being chased! He dove into the darkness of the little cave he called home and sat there panting, hoping the ordeal was over. He lit a candle and in the dim light, saw that the thing he had hooked was amassed in a pile in the corner. The soft light softened his fears and he approached and began to untangle the mess. He realized these were the bones of a woman and, after untangling her, he wrapped her in a warm fur and went to lie down on his bed to sleep. During his sleep, a tear escaped from his eye. She approached him and drank up the tear, drawing some life from it. She then put her hand on his chest and began singing a song to the beat of his heart. As she sang, all of her sinews and flesh and skin began to recover her body. And when she and the song were complete, she crawled under the covers and she and the man warmed one another. They warmed one another heart and body and soul for the rest of their lives.

(Anyone care to try to interpret that one?)

Footnote from Teri:
It’s not that we really think men are stupid. We were all created as intelligent beings, men and women. It’s just that when a man doesn’t take the time to figure a woman out (or "untangle her," if you will), he’s sorta shooting himself in the foot. And that’s stupid.

We are doomed...

In view of the fact that God limited the intelligence of man, it seems unfair that he did not also limit his stupidity.
-- Konrad Adenauer