We are incessantly moved by the stream of time, and the change of sensations resultant from it.
Immanuel Kant
*****************
Hi. If you were affected by that awful Tagged scam yesterday, I am so sorry it happened to you. I had nothing to do with it. It was sending out messages all over the world, without my knowledge. Know that if I invite you to join some social network as my friend, or whatever, it is probably not from me. If, by some remote chance it is, I will let you know that ahead of time. This is about what snagged us:
Tagged.com Email Scam - "Your Friend Tagged You" - Phishing for Your Identity
------------------------------------------------
Be sure to checkout the Weekend Puzzle below. It is legitimate.
__________________________________
I was just thinking this morning about how much I have changed over the years. When I reflect on certain events and recall what my behavior was at those times I can feel regrets. But I find that knowing I will not do those things anymore is a partial treatment for those regrets. I have done a lot of things in my life I'm not proud of. Who hasn't? Today, I take no particular pride in knowing that I won't do those things again if the opportunity occurs. It's more a matter of feeling cleansed from much of the sarcasm, judgmentalism and negativity of the past. In short, I'm a nicer guy than I used to be.
It is also a satisfaction, and somewhat of a surprise, to find that a person can float on "the stream of time" into senior citizenship, even with illness. pain and trouble, without becoming curmudgeonly nasty with a basic distaste for life, as has happened to some guys, unfortunately.
I ignore the evil angel that talks of dissolution and decrepitude. I feel as much alive as ever but with a whole different set of sensations. The challenge of making a living has been replaced by the one of walking down the street. That's where the humor is. As I wrote to someone recently, I write because I think and I think because my mind is just about the only part of me that still works right.
I have come to not taking for granted many things. I know there is a future and that things change. I look forward to it.
"He's a tough old bastard." You betcha.
DB
_______________
Let Springdom Ring
*****************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
Okay. Here you go.
Without cheating (i. e. Googling), how many of the following can you identify with their full titles? Warning, they get progressively more difficult. The correct answers and winners, if any (heh, heh, malignant chuckle), will appear after 9 p. m. EST on Sunday. So get busy. No cheating.
1. PIN
2. NASA
3. CORE
4. FAA
5. ASCAP
6. AFL-CIO
7. AGVA
8. LASER
9. EDGAR
10. CARD
Good luck. You'll need it.
1 winner so far.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Jotting Jobs 6/06/09
We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have.
Henry James
************
A hearty good weekend to you.
------------------
Never call anyone a dope. We are all dopes, when you get right down to it. What I know can barely get me to the post office and back. What I don't know can get me to the edge of the universe and back. No matter how much I learn I am still in the dark about most things. Is that a good reason to stop trying to learn things? Of course not.
When I retired 8 years ago I naturally was urged to do what I had looked forward to doing, full time reading of the topics that interest me, which includes almost everything. I became and am a voracious reader of books, magazines, newspapers, cereal boxes, can and bottle labels, matchbooks, etc. It has led me into some surprising discoveries, some of which show up in my journal, from time to time.
Since I started reading my eyesight has dimmed a bit. Sometimes I have to read with a magnifying glass, so reading is slow going. But, one of these days, ONE OF THESE DAYS, I'll be able to get some reading glasses and then, Watch out !
During my working life I felt I was in the dark most of the time. I think any thing is on the job training no matter how well prepared you are when you go into it, whether it's rocket science or motherhood. Acting was much of a mystery to me all the years I did it. Along the way I noticed that those for whom it was not a mystery were not very good at it.
The common thread throughput my career, as it is with any important enterprise, was the act of giving. I had a talent, which is the word used to differentiate the performer from all the other people involved in theatre or film: such as "Who's the talent on this one?" But one does not get by on talent alone, at least not for long. After "talent" comes the hard work, and that's where the joy of giving comes in. I don't think there is an artist alive who doesn't feel that his talent and ability is a gift and that the work to turn that into something beautiful and meaningful for other people is his gift to life and to the world.
It's a strange thing in life that we don't seem to get as much as we give. We put out 100 per cent and we get back 50 (if we're lucky). And while it's true that some people seem to get back 200 after giving out 20, that's an exception.
There's an old saying in show business "Give me a bare board and a passion." In other words give me a place to stand up and something that moves my heart and my mind and I will entertain you. Al Jolson used to stop people on the street blow a tone on his pitch pipe and sing for them. If a painter has no canvas, paints or brushes he can make a beautiful picture with a jar of ink and a stick, if he's really an artist. I studied drawing with a teacher who actually made us do that, on a hunk of shelf paper.
Every time we recite a poem, sing a song or draw a picture we get one step closer to the edge of the universe. And it doesn't matter what your occupation is, if it's a giving thing you're on the same journey. As the old song puts it, "It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it."
DB - Vagabond Journeys
___________________
Let your light shine. Please.
*******************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
Okay. Here you go.
Without cheating (i. e. Googling), how many of the following can you identify with their full titles? Warning, they get progressively more difficult. The correct answers and winners, if any (heh, heh, malignant chuckle), will appear after 9 p. m. EST on Sunday. So get busy. No cheating.
1. PIN
2. NASA
3. CORE
4. FAA
5. ASCAP
6. AFL-CIO
7. AGVA
8. LASER
9. EDGAR
10. CARD
1 winner so far
Good luck. You'll need it.
Henry James
************
A hearty good weekend to you.
------------------
Never call anyone a dope. We are all dopes, when you get right down to it. What I know can barely get me to the post office and back. What I don't know can get me to the edge of the universe and back. No matter how much I learn I am still in the dark about most things. Is that a good reason to stop trying to learn things? Of course not.
When I retired 8 years ago I naturally was urged to do what I had looked forward to doing, full time reading of the topics that interest me, which includes almost everything. I became and am a voracious reader of books, magazines, newspapers, cereal boxes, can and bottle labels, matchbooks, etc. It has led me into some surprising discoveries, some of which show up in my journal, from time to time.
Since I started reading my eyesight has dimmed a bit. Sometimes I have to read with a magnifying glass, so reading is slow going. But, one of these days, ONE OF THESE DAYS, I'll be able to get some reading glasses and then, Watch out !
During my working life I felt I was in the dark most of the time. I think any thing is on the job training no matter how well prepared you are when you go into it, whether it's rocket science or motherhood. Acting was much of a mystery to me all the years I did it. Along the way I noticed that those for whom it was not a mystery were not very good at it.
The common thread throughput my career, as it is with any important enterprise, was the act of giving. I had a talent, which is the word used to differentiate the performer from all the other people involved in theatre or film: such as "Who's the talent on this one?" But one does not get by on talent alone, at least not for long. After "talent" comes the hard work, and that's where the joy of giving comes in. I don't think there is an artist alive who doesn't feel that his talent and ability is a gift and that the work to turn that into something beautiful and meaningful for other people is his gift to life and to the world.
It's a strange thing in life that we don't seem to get as much as we give. We put out 100 per cent and we get back 50 (if we're lucky). And while it's true that some people seem to get back 200 after giving out 20, that's an exception.
There's an old saying in show business "Give me a bare board and a passion." In other words give me a place to stand up and something that moves my heart and my mind and I will entertain you. Al Jolson used to stop people on the street blow a tone on his pitch pipe and sing for them. If a painter has no canvas, paints or brushes he can make a beautiful picture with a jar of ink and a stick, if he's really an artist. I studied drawing with a teacher who actually made us do that, on a hunk of shelf paper.
Every time we recite a poem, sing a song or draw a picture we get one step closer to the edge of the universe. And it doesn't matter what your occupation is, if it's a giving thing you're on the same journey. As the old song puts it, "It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it."
DB - Vagabond Journeys
___________________
Let your light shine. Please.
*******************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
Okay. Here you go.
Without cheating (i. e. Googling), how many of the following can you identify with their full titles? Warning, they get progressively more difficult. The correct answers and winners, if any (heh, heh, malignant chuckle), will appear after 9 p. m. EST on Sunday. So get busy. No cheating.
1. PIN
2. NASA
3. CORE
4. FAA
5. ASCAP
6. AFL-CIO
7. AGVA
8. LASER
9. EDGAR
10. CARD
1 winner so far
Good luck. You'll need it.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Inimical Instructions 6/05/09
Don't let anyone tell you that it doesn't matter what you think. Of course it matters. Above all else thinking matters the most.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Greetings
______________________
Things that must be written, must be written.
I made an appointment and went to see a very wise man, a well known provider of good advice and positive, practical solutions to life's problems and difficulties, My problem was that I felt I had no purpose and direction in my life, that I was aimlessly working as an actor with no reason nor objective, that I really didn't have any value in the world. In response to his questions I told him about growing up.
My father died when I was 4 years old. They never told me that he died. All they said was that he wasn't coming back. My mother, my grandmother, my sister and my brother; none of them told me. They say that I cried for many days afterward. For the next 8 years I expected him to return. The phone would ring, there was a knock on the door, it might be my father. I would look out the windows of cars and buses to see if he was walking down the street. Why did he abandon me? It must be my fault. I wanted to find him, to apologize and bring him back home. Finally, at the age of about 12 years, I accepted that he was in truth never coming back. Why didn't they tell me? Why wasn't I valuable or important enough to be told the truth?
The relationship with my mother was adversarial, My brother and sister left shortly after that, but when they were around they either ignored me or were critical of me. There was no love. I was not liked at home.
I grew up without my father's wisdom, advice, judgment, encouragement or approval.
I missed him. Ironically, it was at my mother's funeral, 40 years later, that I could grieve for him. At the cemetary I was placed in a chair directly over my father's grave and for the first time I read his tombstone. He was a young man when he went, only 53. He was a Lieutenant/Colonel in the U.S. Army. I wanted,with all my heart, to know the guy and wanted him to know me, his son. I wept.
"There is a sacredness in tears" Washington Irving said
As I spoke on with that wise man, I told him about the influences on my life after my father's death. How I had been criticized and minimized and disapproved of by everyone around me. How I had fought to reject other people's opinions of me and how I was trying to establish in my own thinking a positive structure of self-respect and self-approval but that I was having trouble doing it and needed help. Then this wise man, the purveyor of positive advice and well being said to me "Well, fortunately it makes no difference what you think."
How, after listening to my tale of deprivation and woe, could this wise man, this guru of positive thinking, this friend of mankind, this generous and compassionate dispenser of good, sound advice tell me that it makes no difference what I think?
I left his office believing him, and his words sank down into the very bottom of my being. After losing my father and not told why, after the scorn and resentment from members of my family and to be told it doesn't matter what I think, I realized what I was: a useless thumb on the hand of the world, a worthless appendage that needed to be amputated, something taking up space for no reason. As someone once said to me "I don't understand why you're still alive."
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange,
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.
Shakespeare
In my mid 50s, when I had outlived my father, I began to understand some things. I began to put some pieces together and throw out some others. I may be a worthless and annoying hunk of junk as far as the world is concerned, I thought, but I was still alive, I was working, supporting myself and entertaining people. And if there was only one thing I knew it was that it did matter what I thought. My thinking was just as valid and important to the world as anyone else's. Thinking matters the most. And one who thinks is not a useless appendage, taking up space. That's something my father might have taught me when I was just a boy.
Shakespeare also wrote "There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so."
Even today, at 70, I miss my father. I miss what we might have meant to each other. I want the love only a father can give. I want the advice of someone who cares about me. I want the companionship of the man I can look up to and admire. I want the words of encouragement and approval from the man who is grateful I was born and is glad I'm alive. I want my Dad.
DB
*****************
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Greetings
______________________
Things that must be written, must be written.
I made an appointment and went to see a very wise man, a well known provider of good advice and positive, practical solutions to life's problems and difficulties, My problem was that I felt I had no purpose and direction in my life, that I was aimlessly working as an actor with no reason nor objective, that I really didn't have any value in the world. In response to his questions I told him about growing up.
My father died when I was 4 years old. They never told me that he died. All they said was that he wasn't coming back. My mother, my grandmother, my sister and my brother; none of them told me. They say that I cried for many days afterward. For the next 8 years I expected him to return. The phone would ring, there was a knock on the door, it might be my father. I would look out the windows of cars and buses to see if he was walking down the street. Why did he abandon me? It must be my fault. I wanted to find him, to apologize and bring him back home. Finally, at the age of about 12 years, I accepted that he was in truth never coming back. Why didn't they tell me? Why wasn't I valuable or important enough to be told the truth?
The relationship with my mother was adversarial, My brother and sister left shortly after that, but when they were around they either ignored me or were critical of me. There was no love. I was not liked at home.
I grew up without my father's wisdom, advice, judgment, encouragement or approval.
I missed him. Ironically, it was at my mother's funeral, 40 years later, that I could grieve for him. At the cemetary I was placed in a chair directly over my father's grave and for the first time I read his tombstone. He was a young man when he went, only 53. He was a Lieutenant/Colonel in the U.S. Army. I wanted,with all my heart, to know the guy and wanted him to know me, his son. I wept.
"There is a sacredness in tears" Washington Irving said
As I spoke on with that wise man, I told him about the influences on my life after my father's death. How I had been criticized and minimized and disapproved of by everyone around me. How I had fought to reject other people's opinions of me and how I was trying to establish in my own thinking a positive structure of self-respect and self-approval but that I was having trouble doing it and needed help. Then this wise man, the purveyor of positive advice and well being said to me "Well, fortunately it makes no difference what you think."
How, after listening to my tale of deprivation and woe, could this wise man, this guru of positive thinking, this friend of mankind, this generous and compassionate dispenser of good, sound advice tell me that it makes no difference what I think?
I left his office believing him, and his words sank down into the very bottom of my being. After losing my father and not told why, after the scorn and resentment from members of my family and to be told it doesn't matter what I think, I realized what I was: a useless thumb on the hand of the world, a worthless appendage that needed to be amputated, something taking up space for no reason. As someone once said to me "I don't understand why you're still alive."
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange,
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.
Shakespeare
In my mid 50s, when I had outlived my father, I began to understand some things. I began to put some pieces together and throw out some others. I may be a worthless and annoying hunk of junk as far as the world is concerned, I thought, but I was still alive, I was working, supporting myself and entertaining people. And if there was only one thing I knew it was that it did matter what I thought. My thinking was just as valid and important to the world as anyone else's. Thinking matters the most. And one who thinks is not a useless appendage, taking up space. That's something my father might have taught me when I was just a boy.
Shakespeare also wrote "There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so."
Even today, at 70, I miss my father. I miss what we might have meant to each other. I want the love only a father can give. I want the advice of someone who cares about me. I want the companionship of the man I can look up to and admire. I want the words of encouragement and approval from the man who is grateful I was born and is glad I'm alive. I want my Dad.
DB
*****************
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Hidden Heroics 6/04/09
The vision of a champion is bent over, drenched in sweat, at the point of exhaustion, when nobody else is looking.
Mia Hamm
*******************
Hello again.
--------------------------
Life is hard enough as it is, but to face it with no one around who cares about you, especially if you have stacked up some decades on yourself, is difficult indeed. Aloneness is a preferable condition under some circumstances, but when the tasks are done, the challenges met and the fears overcome it's so good to have someone with you who can share your victory.
The real heroics are never seen on the ball field, the stage or the orchestra pit. We see only the results: a scoreless game, an inspiring performance, the reaching into the higher levels of feeling and human experience by the musicians. The real heroics are invisible things, mental things. We cannot see them going on.
The nurse closes the curtain and leaves the room. Now the patient is alone facing fear, dealing with pain, desperate and unsure of what will happen, but fighting to stay alive, to get healthy, to survive. And there is no one there to see it.
I did a very difficult, vigorous and demanding solo dance in a musical. When it was over, panting for breath and sweating, I had to climb,a flight of stairs to my dressing room. I was so bowed over with exhaustion that it was all I could do to look at myself in the mirror to see if I was still all right. No one was there.
I spent one winter living in a farm house down a long dirt road in the north country. One freezing cold day while cutting some fire wood from downed branches the saw slipped and cut into my finger right down to the bone. I quickly shut down the saw and went inside. There were no bandages or anything of that sort in the house that I knew of, but there was a roll of paper towel. I wrapped my finger in it and held it as tightly as I could. The pain was horrible and the blood was flowing, I had no phone to call for help. I had no transportation to take me to a doctor. The nearest neighbor was 6 miles away and they usually were locked up and gone for the winter. I was alone and frightened.
Somehow I managed to feed myself and my cat and get a fire going in the wood stove, my only source of heat. I had to keep replacing the paper towel because of the blood. When I looked at the cleaned and open wound I could see the bone glistening in the light. I was afraid I was going to lose my finger, or worse. I was alone. There was no one there to whom I could explain my tears, show my panic or cry my pain.
The weeks went by. Slowly the wound healed, the bone strengthened, the flesh grew back, the skin grew over and now there's nothing left but a scar. And all that time, except for my friendly cat, I was alone.
If you have ever been bent over with fear and sorrow, drenched in sweat and tears, at the point of exhaustion, finality and surrender when no one was looking and you survived it, congratulate yourself, You're a champion.
DB Vagabond Journeys
_________________________
The glass is half empty? Well, fill it up.
*********************
Mia Hamm
*******************
Hello again.
--------------------------
Life is hard enough as it is, but to face it with no one around who cares about you, especially if you have stacked up some decades on yourself, is difficult indeed. Aloneness is a preferable condition under some circumstances, but when the tasks are done, the challenges met and the fears overcome it's so good to have someone with you who can share your victory.
The real heroics are never seen on the ball field, the stage or the orchestra pit. We see only the results: a scoreless game, an inspiring performance, the reaching into the higher levels of feeling and human experience by the musicians. The real heroics are invisible things, mental things. We cannot see them going on.
The nurse closes the curtain and leaves the room. Now the patient is alone facing fear, dealing with pain, desperate and unsure of what will happen, but fighting to stay alive, to get healthy, to survive. And there is no one there to see it.
I did a very difficult, vigorous and demanding solo dance in a musical. When it was over, panting for breath and sweating, I had to climb,a flight of stairs to my dressing room. I was so bowed over with exhaustion that it was all I could do to look at myself in the mirror to see if I was still all right. No one was there.
I spent one winter living in a farm house down a long dirt road in the north country. One freezing cold day while cutting some fire wood from downed branches the saw slipped and cut into my finger right down to the bone. I quickly shut down the saw and went inside. There were no bandages or anything of that sort in the house that I knew of, but there was a roll of paper towel. I wrapped my finger in it and held it as tightly as I could. The pain was horrible and the blood was flowing, I had no phone to call for help. I had no transportation to take me to a doctor. The nearest neighbor was 6 miles away and they usually were locked up and gone for the winter. I was alone and frightened.
Somehow I managed to feed myself and my cat and get a fire going in the wood stove, my only source of heat. I had to keep replacing the paper towel because of the blood. When I looked at the cleaned and open wound I could see the bone glistening in the light. I was afraid I was going to lose my finger, or worse. I was alone. There was no one there to whom I could explain my tears, show my panic or cry my pain.
The weeks went by. Slowly the wound healed, the bone strengthened, the flesh grew back, the skin grew over and now there's nothing left but a scar. And all that time, except for my friendly cat, I was alone.
If you have ever been bent over with fear and sorrow, drenched in sweat and tears, at the point of exhaustion, finality and surrender when no one was looking and you survived it, congratulate yourself, You're a champion.
DB Vagabond Journeys
_________________________
The glass is half empty? Well, fill it up.
*********************
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Guarded Genius 6/03/09
There are two kinds of people, those who do the work and those who take the credit. Try to be in the first group, there is less competition there.
Indira Gandhi
***************
Hello. Are you there?
-------------------
To me one of the saddest stories in the Bible is Ecclesiastes 9: 14, 15.
"There was a little city, and few men within it; and there came a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks against it; now there was found in it a poor, wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man."
What the mighty king wanted with this little city is a mystery. Perhaps it was in a strategic location. Whatever, it was important enough to built great walls of defense against it. The king was obviously, and probably incorrectly, expecting the little city to mount a fierce counter attack. And why did he put it under siege, allowing no access or egress until it ran out of food and had to surrender. Why didn't he just overrun it if he was such a "great king"?
Nevertheless, "there was found in the city a poor, wise man." Why did he have to be found? Was he hiding? I doubt it. Was he the only wise man in the city? Being poor, was he living in a hovel down a back alley perhaps, barely able to feed himself and his dog? And how did he save the city? Did he come up with some scheme to frighten the mighty king and his army to make them run away? Did he go out and negotiate with the king? And why would the mighty king give audience to a poor man? Kings don't usually discuss things with paupers.
Well, whatever he did it worked. The kings army packed up and left, and the poor man went back to his hovel with his dog knowing that he and his neighbors could sleep in peace.
No doubt the self important mayor, being a good politician, congratulated himself and his fellow citizens for their courage and commitment in protecting their freedoms, their rights and their way of life.
We will never know what the poor, wise man did to save the city. He never stepped forward to claim the credit. Besides he was just a bum who lived in a hovel and wasn't worth a damn. So they forgot about him.
I have seen it happen in my days. I'm sure you have also. Someone stands up, takes the credit, the award, the appreciation and applause for something he didn't do, oblivious to the existence of the one who actually did it. And often the genius who was really responsible is sitting and applauding with the rest.
As President Harry Truman said "It's amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit."
DB - The Vagabond
__________________
A blessing on you, whoever you are.
********************
Indira Gandhi
***************
Hello. Are you there?
-------------------
To me one of the saddest stories in the Bible is Ecclesiastes 9: 14, 15.
"There was a little city, and few men within it; and there came a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks against it; now there was found in it a poor, wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man."
What the mighty king wanted with this little city is a mystery. Perhaps it was in a strategic location. Whatever, it was important enough to built great walls of defense against it. The king was obviously, and probably incorrectly, expecting the little city to mount a fierce counter attack. And why did he put it under siege, allowing no access or egress until it ran out of food and had to surrender. Why didn't he just overrun it if he was such a "great king"?
Nevertheless, "there was found in the city a poor, wise man." Why did he have to be found? Was he hiding? I doubt it. Was he the only wise man in the city? Being poor, was he living in a hovel down a back alley perhaps, barely able to feed himself and his dog? And how did he save the city? Did he come up with some scheme to frighten the mighty king and his army to make them run away? Did he go out and negotiate with the king? And why would the mighty king give audience to a poor man? Kings don't usually discuss things with paupers.
Well, whatever he did it worked. The kings army packed up and left, and the poor man went back to his hovel with his dog knowing that he and his neighbors could sleep in peace.
No doubt the self important mayor, being a good politician, congratulated himself and his fellow citizens for their courage and commitment in protecting their freedoms, their rights and their way of life.
We will never know what the poor, wise man did to save the city. He never stepped forward to claim the credit. Besides he was just a bum who lived in a hovel and wasn't worth a damn. So they forgot about him.
I have seen it happen in my days. I'm sure you have also. Someone stands up, takes the credit, the award, the appreciation and applause for something he didn't do, oblivious to the existence of the one who actually did it. And often the genius who was really responsible is sitting and applauding with the rest.
As President Harry Truman said "It's amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit."
DB - The Vagabond
__________________
A blessing on you, whoever you are.
********************
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Fertilized Freedom 5/02/09
Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one.
Malcolm Forbes
****************
Good day to you.
---------------------
One of the strangest and most dangerous human aberrations is the inability to listen to an idea outside of one's prejudice without becoming enraged. Unfortunately we have seen a lot of that lately on the public political scene. I have also seen it in my private life.
When I was in high school we were told which textbooks to buy for the various classes, as was normal. Being a good student I carefully studied those books, on government, history and literature, believing I was reading a legitimate, unbiased account of those topics. As a grew up, got out into the world and heard and read other points of view, my mind broadened to accept the possibility of different ideas. Decades went by and one day I came across some of those high school texts that had somehow ended up in my sister's library. I read through them again and was stunned to find how one sided much of the writing was and how viciously the authors attacked the ideas they didn't agree with, some of which I had come to accept. The editorial content of the textbooks simply expressed the prejudices of my teachers. I went back further to consider what I had carried over from my sub-standard elementary school, remembering the scornful remarks of some of those teachers about certain ideas. It seems that my education was narrow minded, not open minded. My thinking had been closed up in a box, and I didn't know it. Fortunately I survived it, I hope. Some don't.
For over a year I have been making daily observations in this journal about ideas, events and human life. If I express my own opinion, I say so. Last year a friend of mine, an actor who I had worked with a few times and who I thought was a good guy, asked if he could be included on my list of those who receive my daily dollops of delight. So I did. But immediately he began responding to them in a very rude and scornful manner. He simply did not want to read anything that didn't conform to his vew of the world nor what he was convinced was the only truth. He finally said "Don't send me this crap." So I stopped.
The purpose of my journal has been all along to allow myself and others to think about things, to ponder and consider with an open, active mind the ideas that come across my desk. My motive has been out of respect and appreciation for the infinite and fascinating complexities of the universe of human thought. The reason for reading anything written by a thinking person (and I humbly consider myself one of those) is to provide nourishment for the heart, mind and soul. To disagree is healthy provided it comes from careful thinking and articulated with respect. But to a priori slam the door in the face of an opposing idea no matter how clear and thoughtful it is makes one a dangerous fool, in my opinion.
DB The Vagabond
________________
Suddenly it's June. Imagine that.
*****************************
Malcolm Forbes
****************
Good day to you.
---------------------
One of the strangest and most dangerous human aberrations is the inability to listen to an idea outside of one's prejudice without becoming enraged. Unfortunately we have seen a lot of that lately on the public political scene. I have also seen it in my private life.
When I was in high school we were told which textbooks to buy for the various classes, as was normal. Being a good student I carefully studied those books, on government, history and literature, believing I was reading a legitimate, unbiased account of those topics. As a grew up, got out into the world and heard and read other points of view, my mind broadened to accept the possibility of different ideas. Decades went by and one day I came across some of those high school texts that had somehow ended up in my sister's library. I read through them again and was stunned to find how one sided much of the writing was and how viciously the authors attacked the ideas they didn't agree with, some of which I had come to accept. The editorial content of the textbooks simply expressed the prejudices of my teachers. I went back further to consider what I had carried over from my sub-standard elementary school, remembering the scornful remarks of some of those teachers about certain ideas. It seems that my education was narrow minded, not open minded. My thinking had been closed up in a box, and I didn't know it. Fortunately I survived it, I hope. Some don't.
For over a year I have been making daily observations in this journal about ideas, events and human life. If I express my own opinion, I say so. Last year a friend of mine, an actor who I had worked with a few times and who I thought was a good guy, asked if he could be included on my list of those who receive my daily dollops of delight. So I did. But immediately he began responding to them in a very rude and scornful manner. He simply did not want to read anything that didn't conform to his vew of the world nor what he was convinced was the only truth. He finally said "Don't send me this crap." So I stopped.
The purpose of my journal has been all along to allow myself and others to think about things, to ponder and consider with an open, active mind the ideas that come across my desk. My motive has been out of respect and appreciation for the infinite and fascinating complexities of the universe of human thought. The reason for reading anything written by a thinking person (and I humbly consider myself one of those) is to provide nourishment for the heart, mind and soul. To disagree is healthy provided it comes from careful thinking and articulated with respect. But to a priori slam the door in the face of an opposing idea no matter how clear and thoughtful it is makes one a dangerous fool, in my opinion.
DB The Vagabond
________________
Suddenly it's June. Imagine that.
*****************************
Monday, June 1, 2009
Evil's Enemy 6/01/09
A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions and the roots spring up and make new trees.
Emelia Earhart
*****************
'Lo.
-----------------------
This is what kindness can do. It can feed a hungry child, ease the pain of an injured man, help the handicapped, guide the blind, rescue a suffering animal, provide for the poor, care for the elderly, visit the shut-in, educate the ignorant, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and befriend the lonely stranger. But those things are only the beginning,
A kind act has a huge benefit attached to it that the care giver isn't even aware of at the time. A kind deed thrusts a sharp spear right into the very heart of evil.
There are many ways of being unkind, compassionless and unmerciful and many reasons for it. Self-justification is a popular one. "I'm just taking care of myself and my family. That's difficult enough. Why should I care about anyone else? That's their problem." Ignorance is another one. I'm reminded of the remark a woman made about wanting to give her leftover Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless but she didn't know where they lived. Tucked into one's safe and reasonably happy home it's easy to become benignly unaware of the desperation down the street. Then there are the religious reasons, which are the most insidious. It's alright to be cruel under certain circumstances because the Bible says this and the Koran says that and my guru saya the other thing and traditions must be followed.
Evil relishes the idea of going out into the gladiatorial arena and doing battle with kindness, charity, love and mercy. But in that arena evil has only one weapon. And that weapon is the human mind.
If evil can get you to believe that it's alright to kill, maim, torture, forget, ignore, turn away from, overlook, stay home, and let others take care of things because you can't be bothered, then evil has won the day.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
*********************
May you find unexpected joy today.
__________________________
SPRING QUIZ
THIS IS NOT A CONTEST
What do you think was the most important event of 2008? and
What was the most significant event in your life last year?
You have all Spring to answer if you wish.
15 responses so far.
Leave answers on my email dbdacoba@aol.com or on my journal
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/. Thank you. DB
Emelia Earhart
*****************
'Lo.
-----------------------
This is what kindness can do. It can feed a hungry child, ease the pain of an injured man, help the handicapped, guide the blind, rescue a suffering animal, provide for the poor, care for the elderly, visit the shut-in, educate the ignorant, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and befriend the lonely stranger. But those things are only the beginning,
A kind act has a huge benefit attached to it that the care giver isn't even aware of at the time. A kind deed thrusts a sharp spear right into the very heart of evil.
There are many ways of being unkind, compassionless and unmerciful and many reasons for it. Self-justification is a popular one. "I'm just taking care of myself and my family. That's difficult enough. Why should I care about anyone else? That's their problem." Ignorance is another one. I'm reminded of the remark a woman made about wanting to give her leftover Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless but she didn't know where they lived. Tucked into one's safe and reasonably happy home it's easy to become benignly unaware of the desperation down the street. Then there are the religious reasons, which are the most insidious. It's alright to be cruel under certain circumstances because the Bible says this and the Koran says that and my guru saya the other thing and traditions must be followed.
Evil relishes the idea of going out into the gladiatorial arena and doing battle with kindness, charity, love and mercy. But in that arena evil has only one weapon. And that weapon is the human mind.
If evil can get you to believe that it's alright to kill, maim, torture, forget, ignore, turn away from, overlook, stay home, and let others take care of things because you can't be bothered, then evil has won the day.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
*********************
May you find unexpected joy today.
__________________________
SPRING QUIZ
THIS IS NOT A CONTEST
What do you think was the most important event of 2008? and
What was the most significant event in your life last year?
You have all Spring to answer if you wish.
15 responses so far.
Leave answers on my email dbdacoba@aol.com or on my journal
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/. Thank you. DB
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