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Parasites

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Such a negative word. Parasite. You think of vermin and viruses. You think of slimy, gross things eating away.

This is such a human-centered way of thinking. If it doesn’t benefit us, it is bad. I’ve written along with others that our need to define things as good or bad is part of our undoing. We have this need to control in our need to define.

What is against us has to be bad. Of course.

But mosquitoes are what birds eat. Their song, their strength in flight, is fed by these insects that cause us torment.

Who knows about tapeworms and viruses? Who knows what purpose they play? Do we have to know?

When we take antibiotics, anti-life by definition, we are killing these very viruses. They are growing and thriving in an environment that is hospitable for them. Perhaps kinder would be to just prevent the environment in the first place.

Is it the fault of moss that it grows in a wet place? No. So if you don’t want moss, fix what is causing the moisture.

What about cancer? Cancer is mindless, but it grows and divides. Is it alive?

Part of the mission of Star Trek was to seek out new life.

They flew around the universe encountering countless beings that looked like people and countless more entities that looked nothing like life. Week after week we learned along with them to see value in these beings, these entities. We learned to see them as having a purpose, as having sentience.

The most important thing we can learn is that just because their purpose and sentience isn’t the same as ours doesn’t make it wrong.

We’ve heard that just because someone else is on a different path doesn’t mean they are lost.

So, does this mean that we allow the tapeworm to move in? Does this mean we show compassion to cancer and we don’t cut it out?

These are hard questions, and I’m not sure I have the answers.

I think there is something in there about boundaries.

I’ve heard one definition of jealousy is thinking that someone has something that is yours.

Surely your body is yours.

But if it is, consider this. A rabbi once said that “Is that your nose? Where is your receipt?”

We don’t create ourselves. We have some influence on our bodies by what we eat and if we exercise. We can somewhat shape ourselves. But for the most part our bodies are gifts to us. Unmerited.

Our bodies are temples. Our bodies house our souls. Even our souls are gifts. Consciousness is a gift of the Creator.

Who are we to refuse entrance to other members of creation?

Now, if we keep our bodies in bad shape we will invite more things than we might know how to deal with.

It is like having a small house and hosting a huge party. We might have a lot more party-goers than we know what to do with. We might run out of party food and they will start eating our staples. We might have to call the police.

But what happens when the party goers are cancer? Is the doctor the police? Doubtful, considering the nature of Western medicine. It treats the symptom rather than the cause. But that is the focus of another post, another day.

I don’t have the answers. I’m OK with asking the questions and living into the answers. Sometimes just asking the questions is a good start.

The biggest thing I want to get across is that just because something isn’t for us, isn’t part of our plan, doesn’t seem to have a purpose that benefits us – doesn’t mean it is bad. It just is. It is part of creation. Perhaps we don’t have eyes to see the purpose. Perhaps it doesn’t have a purpose, and perhaps we need to be OK with that.

We tend to want answers, and closure. Perhaps it is healthier just to observe without judgment.

Marriage license

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I would like to be able to marry people. I don’t mean I want to become a polygamist. I want to perform wedding ceremonies. In fact, I want to be able to perform all sorts of life ceremonies for people.

The problem is that I’m not a minister of any church in any official fashion. Sure, we are all ministers, but apparently that is just lip service. As far as the law is concerned, being a member of the Body of Christ isn’t good enough – you actually have to be ordained to marry people.

Now, I want to perform life ceremonies for people who don’t go to church. There are plenty of people who need ceremonies who aren’t members of church. The church has turned off and turned away people. The church has become irrelevant to many people’s lives. It has become hypocritical and hyper judgmental. People don’t feel welcome in church.

But they still need ceremonies.

We humans need ceremonies. We need to mark transitions from Then to Now. We need to indicate that something is different. Ceremony and ritual is part of what makes us human. We need closure. We use ceremonies to mark time and growth.

Ceremonies and rituals are like doors. We walk through them, and then we are different. It isn’t the door that makes us different, it is the act of walking, intentionally, through that door. It keeps us mindful and aware.

I simply don’t understand why the person performing the ceremony has to be credentialed. It isn’t like she or he is doing something complicated. A few words, said meaningfully, is all. There is no magic trick. There is no surgery, actually binding people together. It seems that it would make more sense to look at the intent of the people getting married more than the person doing the ceremony. Look how many divorces take place all the time these days, and they were married by credentialed people. So that isn’t working. It isn’t the people performing the ceremony that makes the difference.

Now, you don’t have to be a minister to perform a marriage ceremony. You can be a judge, or a captain of a ship for instance. There are plenty of non-religious people who can marry two people together – but I don’t fit any of those categories.

I wonder if there would be simply something to just going to the county clerk’s office to register (yes, you have to register) to be able to marry people. I don’t think there is any proof that you have to provide to be able to do this. I don’t plan on taking money for it – but I do want it to be legal. There are certain mail-order ministries that aren’t accepted as valid proofs of being a minister.

But again, we are all ministers. I would think that the simple fact that I want to be able to do this, to help out my friends who want to get married or have other ceremonies but don’t go to church, would count. That is a ministry.

I tutor ESL kindergartners. That is a ministry too. But I didn’t get tested or have to be certified. Sure, there was a criminal background check, but nobody asked for proof that I actually had a degree in English or had tutored before. That seems far more relevant.

But two people who want to get married? That is all them. They are doing the hard stuff. The words said on the wedding day don’t make you married. It is everything you do after that.

Waiting. (on family, blood and otherwise)

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I’m at the Frist, a Nashville art museum. My husband asked to go this time. Plenty of times I’ve wanted to go and he has come along to humor me. I’ve asked him repeatedly to tell me if there is something he wants to do. It is important to me that he express himself. I want him to be the best he can be – to be the person he is meant to be.

I don’t want him to just go along with what I want because I want it. That is how he was raised. Just agree. Keep the peace. Your opinion doesn’t matter.

I’m trying to retrain him. It is kind of like getting a shelter dog.

This show is on Art Deco cars. There are actual cars inside this museum. I’m a little curious about how they got in here. The place is packed. I think it is smart that they timed this with the movie “The Great Gatsby”.

I’m bored senseless.

I’m glad there is a bench for me to sit on, because my husband has taken three times as long as I expected in the first room alone.

I remember a time when I was working in Chattanooga. A family came into the craft store I managed. It was the middle of the day and they were all a little tired and cranky. Naps should be built into vacations, but they aren’t.

The mom came in and her son, all of 4 or 5, came in just afterwards. He took one quick look around and, realizing there were no toys there for him, said in a loud voice “All right Mom, time to go!” Mom’s smile faded. Her shoulders slumped, and she started to leave.

Something struck me as very wrong about this. I decided to speak up.

As her son stomped towards the door, I said “Hold on, buckaroo.” That got his attention, and Mom’s. So far, so good.

You run a risk when you challenge people’s children. The parents tend to take it personally, as a statement against their parenting skills. Sometimes it is. But sometimes it does indeed “take a village.”

I continued. I made a pretty good guess about what they had been up to today to illustrate a point. I started with “I bet that you’ve been to the Aquarium and to the Creative Discovery Museum today.” Everything hinged on this being true. Yup. They had, he nodded. So far, so good.

I followed with “I bet your Mom waited on you while you were there, having a good time.” Also a guess, but a safe one. This looked like a self-sacrificing kind of Mom. Yup, another nod. The set up was complete. I continued. “This is a place that your Mom wants to see. It is your turn to wait on her. That is part of being in a family.”

Boom. He got it. He sat down in a corner, out of the way, and was perfect. He waited, patiently.

Mom and Dad were stunned. They stared at me. “Can we bring him back for behavioral training?” they asked. I explained that no, it isn’t about him. It is about them. They have to explain the give and take of being in a family. I explained that he wants to please them and not to just get his way all the time. He needs to learn about sharing. They have to explain it.

I’m reminded of the Hawaiian word “ohana” – nobody gets left behind. This is a concept some of us learned from the movie “Lilo and Stitch”. It is a word for family. In the biggest concept it means all family – blood, adopted, and intentional.

We are family, my husband and I. Family isn’t about blood. It is a feeling. We chose each other. We choose to be together, to look out for each other, to cheer each other on. We learned from the friend who married us that “Joy shared doubles it, trouble shared halves it.” That is part of what being in a family means too.

You can be blood kin to somebody and they aren’t very nice. You can have a better relationship with friends than your own kin. Family isn’t about blood but action. You have to make a family to be in a family.

Sometimes being in a family isn’t easy. Sometimes it isn’t very fun.

Right now I’m feeling pretty bored. But I’m glad I’ve got a way to write in my blog while I wait. I’m glad we got to be here for free. And I’m glad that he asked to go to this, and is enjoying it so much.

I’m grateful for this funny little family we have.

Easy (schooled by a kindergartner)

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I have tutored ESL kindergartners for two years now. I participate in a program that is sponsored by the Mayor of my city. He allows Metro employees to tutor in Metro schools on work time for an hour a week. Since I have a degree in English and I’ve tutored students with learning disabilities before, I thought this would be a great thing to do. I paired up with a ESL kindergarten teacher that I knew from my work who is fun and enthusiastic. I wanted to support her in her mission.

The first year I was tutoring ESL students from as close as Mexico and as far away as Uzbekistan. There were some students who were from America that needed a little extra help as well, as the class has a mixed skill level. Many of these children had never been to school or been away from their parents before. There was a lot for them to learn, and it wasn’t all letters and numbers.

But there was also a lot that they taught me.

I remember one time it was raining very hard. I had two girls, one after the other, who wanted easy work. There was something about the rain that made them want to retreat, to not push. It is like comfort food, the easy work.

I had a range of tools to work with. The easy stuff was a board with magnetic letters. We could make words with it or just write out the alphabet and sing the song. I needed it for some of the other students on my list that day, but I was surprised that Mariela and Maftuna both wanted this easy work. They had gotten past that level a month earlier. But today they both insisted on working on the ABCs and singing the song.

I was amazed, and a little frustrated. I wanted them to work, to push, to grow – not to take it easy and go backwards.

I expressed my frustration with Maftuna, the second girl. Why do you want this? This is easy. You can do more than this.

And this tiny girl, this 5 year old who had just learned English this year, looked at me and thought about it. She figured out how to say her mind with the few words she had so far.

She said “It’s easy for you” with the emphasis on the last word.

True. You got me. It is easy for me. But it is hard for her. I’d forgotten. I wasn’t seeing it from her perspective.

This tiny girl with the dark eyes and serious face schooled me.

Maftuna reminded me that not everything is always easy for everyone. Sometimes we need a break. Sometimes we need to retreat to old standbys. Sometimes we need the simple stuff. And sometimes we forget that just because it is easy for us doesn’t mean it is easy for someone else.

We forget how much work we had to put in to get where we are. The marathoner may not know how to encourage the starting runner. The master gardener may not remember how hard it is to get the mix of fertilizer right to keep the plants alive. Sometimes you have done something so often and for so long you don’t even remember how you got to where you are.

Part of compassion is seeing things from other people’s viewpoints. Sometimes that means literally getting down to their level. That day I was put in my place by a 5 year old from Uzbekistan. And I’m glad. She gave me a gift that day.

Either/Or

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When someone asks you a question and they give you the answers as part of the question, be wary. They either don’t really care what you think or they don’t even realize the trap themselves.

It is like when someone says the phrase “don’t you think” either at the beginning or end of a question. They don’t really care what you think. They just want validation for what they think.

If they say “do you want to wear the blue shirt or the grey shirt?” They have already done most of the thinking for you. In this instance all you can think about is blue or gray. You aren’t even in the same room with the red, orange, or yellow shirt. And maybe you don’t want to wear a shirt at all. Maybe you want to wear just a vest, or a dress.

I’m saying this to help you be mindful of these tricks that people play. They might not even be aware that they are manipulating you. Whether they are aware or not, the effect is the same. You are being distracted. You are being led along a path in a direction you may not want to go.

Question everything and everyone.

This is different from simple defiance. Saying no to everything all the time is childish. But following along mindlessly shouldn’t be the mark of an adult either.

Do whatever it is because you have researched it yourself and found it to be good. If the reason to do something is “because we have always done it that way” or, worse, it results in a threat, dig deeper.

Especially when the threat is to your soul.

I’ve never understood the logic of telling someone they have to believe the way you do because their soul depends on it. Just believe, like that, something that is huge.

I’m not going to buy a house or a car without reading the fine print. If I’m not going to jump into that major commitment without studying it, then what is the logic of going into an external commitment without question?

It is precisely because I take my soul seriously that I question. I expect the same of everyone. I think any faith tradition that expects blind obedience really just wants you to be blind.

This post was inspired by the title of a book. It is called “Was Jesus a Republican or a Democrat?” Uh, how about he was neither?

This way of questioning is black and white. There is no gray. There is no middle, and there is no other.

If you really want to know what someone thinks, ask them an open ended question. Ask them what they think, without any nouns. Just ask, and let them fill in the blanks.

While providing options is useful when you have a flighty child who cannot make decisions in a hurry and you need to get her out of the house and on to school, it is insulting to do to an adult.

But we do it all the time.

I’m writing this post to help you be mindful to not do it to others, and to not let them do it to you.

It is a hard habit to break.

Consider this. If you frame the question, you’ll miss the whole picture.

“Free to a good home”

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How often have you seen a message like this?

“Free to a good home. We are moving and we just can’t take Fluffy with us. She’s been fixed and she has all her shots. If she isn’t adopted in a week I’m afraid to say we are going to have to take her to the shelter.”

Or something like this – “Now that we have a new baby, we just can’t keep Spot. He’s really friendly but we just don’t have time for him.”

While I cringe at the new term “furbaby,” perhaps it is useful here. A pet is a member of the family. Fluffy and Spot were chosen to live at home, with you, by you. No, they aren’t children in the true sense. You don’t have to deal with morning sickness or labor with them. You don’t have to have someone with them until they are 12. You don’t have to save up for their college fund. You might have to worry about them coming home pregnant, but unlike real children you can prevent that problem with an inexpensive operation.

But they are family. They are dependent on you. They need you. You provide their food and shelter. You provide a home for them. Dogs and cats and any other pet are not accidentally in your home. You chose to have them there. You can’t back out and “take them to the shelter” when you find that you don’t have the time or patience for them.

Because “take them to the shelter” is just newspeak for murder.

Sure, some unwanted pets get adopted at the shelter. But most get “put to sleep,” or “put down.” Translation – killed. Does this term make you wince? It should. We are operating under a fantasy that when we take our pets to the shelter they will be adopted and loved. The shelters are overfull and understaffed. There aren’t enough people who come by to adopt. Pets that are there after a few days are killed. Is this fair for you to do to your pet, your “furbaby”? Oh, you might say that you aren’t killing Fluffy or Spot, but killing by proxy is still killing.

Do we do the same with our children when they get to be too much? No? Then why do we do it to our animal children? They are just as dependent on us.

Some people think they are giving their unwanted pets a second chance by releasing them out into the country instead of taking them to the shelter. Surely Fluffy and Spot will revert to their original non-domesticated nature and do just fine. I have a friend who lives out in the country and she assures me that she sees the results of this kind of thinking all the time. Fluffy and Spot don’t suddenly learn how to hunt for food. Instead, they become food for coyotes. Actually, they are lucky if this happens. Otherwise, they suffer a long slow death from starvation.

If you can’t commit to at least twelve years of supporting a dog or cat, don’t get one. They aren’t mandatory. You aren’t required to have one.

If you do get a pet, get it fixed as soon ask possible to prevent an unwanted litter. I’ve heard that guys are the least likely to get their male dogs fixed. They seem to take it personally that their male dog has no testicles. Trust me, dogs do not suffer from the same gender identity issues.

On keys, and doors

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I am mesmerized by keys.

I collect antique keys and make them into necklaces. I love the look and feel of old metal keys. I imagine their history. Who used them? How many people have owned the thing that this key unlocks? How many hands have touched these keys?

This tiny bit of metal is all that is required to open up this huge door, this wall that is standing before me like a bouncer at a club, saying None May Pass. This tiny thing is all I require to gain access to my heart’s desire.

Perhaps this fondness comes from Alice in Wonderland. Everything got a little strange when she fell down that rabbit hole – but to me the first really strange part was when she encountered that tiny door behind the curtain.

She had the key, but she couldn’t figure out the right sequence to use the door.

I like keys like this, and stories like this. I like real keys and imaginary keys. I like what keys represent.

I have a TARDIS key. You know, just in case. Just in case time and space travel is real, I’m ready if Doctor Who just happens to leave that beautiful, mad, blue box parked along my walking path that day. It is good to be prepared.

I have a key to a phone booth. I have a key to a piano. I have a key to a Ford that was driven long before I could even say the word “automobile”.

These keys are beautiful and poetic and sad. They are missing their locks. They are missing their purpose.

But I keep them anyway. You never know.

They are kind of a focus, a meditation tool. Always be prepared. Notice that it is a small thing that opens a large thing.

What doors are in front of me? What is barring my way? What have I not even noticed is a door, that is preventing me from getting where I need to be?

If you have a key, you’ll be reminded of the door. One points towards the other.

Blogging about blogging

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You have to be a little arrogant to write a blog. You have to honestly think that you have something to say that other people should read. You have to be a little brave and a little foolish and you have to not care what others think. You have to write for yourself. You have to write for your own sanity.

You have no way of knowing what your audience wants to hear. I’ve written about religion, creativity, getting healthy, women’s issues. I’ve written poetry and compiled lists of books. I’ve gotten new followers after each different thing and thought, if this is what you think this blog is about you are going to be very surprised.

Sometimes I think new people follow me because they have one of those blogs where they get money for each person who clicks on their page, and they want to lure me into doing that. I don’t have any respect for these people and their blogs. They aren’t using their blogs to inform or educate or inspire. They aren’t using their powers for good. I think they are wasting time and talent, and I think that is a shame.

I carry around a notebook all the time. I’m forever getting ideas for topics. If I am at a loss for what to write I just turn to a page and my outline is there. Sometimes I free-write and the ideas I’ve already jotted down are folded into the mix.

Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with ideas that seem so radical and revolutionary that I have to scribble them down before I lose them. Sometimes I’ll be interrupted as I’m writing and I’m concerned that I’ll forget what I was saying.

I started this blog to explain my jewelry. Sometimes I don’t think in words. Sometimes I try to express myself in beads. I can get harmony and rhythm and pattern with beads as well as words. But with beads I have to explain myself. People don’t know the background of the beads. They don’t know the history. So when I’m sharing the story of a necklace that is significant, it is important to give the background story.

I couldn’t figure out how to attach pictures at first. What is the point of talking about beads and jewelry if I can’t show pictures of beads or jewelry? So I just started writing. I planned on at least one post a week, with a goal of three times a week. When Lent came, I made posting a minimum of three times a week part of my discipline. In order to do that I had to make time. I realized I was spending about an hour every morning on Facebook. I was mindlessly using it the same way I used to mindlessly watch TV. So I now write before I open up Facebook, and I find it all works out.

Mindful use of time is really important to me. I don’t know if I would have found this so important if my parents hadn’t died so young, but they did, and I do, so there you are.

I now spend at least an hour writing every morning. I write at lunch. I write when my husband is driving us places. My Kindle is my favorite tool for this. It is terrible for editing but it is fabulous for raw writing. I can then email it to myself and edit appropriately at home.

I now post on average once a day, often more. I have a huge backlog of half-written ideas and even more jottings in my notebooks of other ideas. I feel that it would be nice to have the time to write up all that I have. I also realize that having actual life experiences gives more flavor to what I write. I also realize that if left to my own devices I rarely complete projects. I need deadlines and limits. I need to be yelled at for an hour at the Y to get in my exercise for the day.

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll run out of ideas. Sometimes I’m concerned that I share the best things first, so if I were to be in an accident I wouldn’t have kept the best for myself.

Sometimes I think nobody is actually reading this and it isn’t going to make a difference at all.

I know that writing is helping me think more clearly.
I know that writing is an important part of my plan to make myself better.

I started posting as notes on Facebook. Then I realized that I wanted to share some of what I’d said with people who weren’t my friends there. I had to create a blog or remember to cut and paste and email each person each piece. Honestly I’m too lazy for that.

There has been a weird side effect of starting a blog. I’m actually surprised that strangers are interested in my words. I’m stunned to see the statistics here, of where everybody is reading from. Romania. Ghana. Zimbabwe. Qatar. The Philippines. Australia. My words are travelling the world.

This is weird and beautiful and amazing.

I hope you get something useful out of my words. I hope you are inspired and encouraged and comforted. I hope you share your talents, whatever they are, with the world. I hope you find you are not alone. I hope you start that project and keep on going until the end.

News? No thanks.

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I no longer watch or read the news.

Hearing about yet another war or earthquake or tsunami or murder or kidnapping overwhelms me. I feel helpless. Perhaps I take things too personally. Perhaps I feel things too deeply. But hearing about tragedy, whether man-made or nature-made only wears me out.

I can’t do anything about it. I can’t fix it. I can’t make it right. I can’t save people.

I want to be a part of the change in this world. I want to let God work through me. But I’m only one person. I advocate for us all working together, but how can we make the world happier and safer when we are up against wave after wave of bad things happening?

Perhaps my problem is “news” really only means “bad news”.

Look at any news site. Every single article is bad news. Somebody killed somebody. Somebody died in some tragic way. A thousand people died in natural disaster. Flood or famine, it makes no difference whether the event is fast or slow, the result is the same. Yet another person died that I couldn’t help.

Yet another person got caught doing something wrong. Another person went to jail for stealing. Another virus was discovered that can’t be defeated and we are all going to die.

How come the news isn’t more balanced? It would help to hear about the discoveries that are being made. It would help to know about the good deeds that are done every day. These things don’t sell. Bad news sells. And I’m not buying anymore.

We don’t need to hear about the latest celebrity misadventure or adventure. I feel bad for celebrities, where their every move is watched by paparazzi. If we didn’t gobble up what the paparazzi are feeding us, perhaps it would go away. Making a movie or being a football star should be enough. They are famous for enough as is. Let them live their lives in peace.

Turn on the TV and it is either “reality show” or cop drama. These shows feed us an unhealthy idea of what is real with a side dish of paranoia. If you want reality, open up your front door and go outside. Talk to your neighbors. You won’t get reality on your TV.

Several years ago we had to get a second mortgage on our house. The air conditioner and the roof and the water heater all needed replacing in the same year. We cut expenses to afford it. Cable television was one of the things that went. The first week I was a little freaked out. Watching television was an essential part of how I defined myself. What would I do with my time?

It turned out to be the best thing ever. I had more time to read what I wanted to read. I was no longer being bombarded with ads for things I didn’t need. I was no longer mindlessly clicking through channels.

I’ve not watched broadcast TV for at least 5 years. Now I’ve decided to not read the news. I’d limited myself to only reading the news on applications on my phone such as Time, Huffington Post, the local news outlets, or I’d check Google’s news page. I’d limited myself to these because I could choose what I read. I didn’t have to be held hostage listening to a lot of news I wasn’t interested in before I got to the bits I was.

But even that is too much. It is all too much. It is all bad, and I can’t do anything about it, and I feel helpless.

Am I an ostrich? Am I putting my head in the sand? Or am I becoming awake to a mindless thing that is damaging?

In the Western, overly-connected, over stimulated, over saturated world we suffer from depression and anxiety at unmanageable levels. I propose that part of the cause is that we watch too much TV, and most of it is bad. I propose that part of that is that we are inundated with bad news.

We are wearing ourselves out. We are being worn away, drip by drip, by the endless Chinese water torture that is the “news”.

Rain

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We have heard often that “it rains on the just and unjust alike.” It isn’t that bad things only happen to good people. Bad things just happen. Being good is no shield against pain and loss.

Nobody “deserves” for something bad to happen to them. People may make bad choices and they have to deal with the repercussions. That isn’t what I’m thinking of when I say “bad things” That is an expected event. It isn’t “unfortunate” when a man gets heart disease after a lifetime where his only exercise consisted of making yet another trip through the buffet line. “Unfortunate” has at its root “fortune.” There is nothing about luck going on here.

I’m thinking about when an accident occurs or a mistake. When you go in for a tonsillectomy and the surgeon cuts your foot off instead. Or when a tornado comes to town and reduces your just-paid-off house to toothpicks. That “something bad” is what I’m talking about here.

Yelling at God won’t help. Wondering if you are guilty of some unknown sin won’t help. You aren’t being punished. It just happened. Now what? What do you do with your one-foot-having, no-house-having self?

Accept it and move on. Deal with your new reality.

Don’t cheer about the “bad guy” when “bad things” happen to him either. That is gloating. It wasn’t polite or pretty when you were five and did it. It is even uglier now.

So what do you do?

Practice with the idea of loss and disappointment just being a part of life. You can’t always get what you want, and sometimes that is a real blessing. Sometimes what we want isn’t very good for us.

Some parents will get their child a hamster as a gentle way to warm them up to the reality of death. Hamsters don’t live very long. So the child has the hamster as a way to brace themselves against the time when Grandpa is going to die.

Learn acceptance of what is, and forget about what was, and what might be coming. The past is gone, and the future is always changing. All you have is right now. Fighting against it only makes it harder.

Remember the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

It isn’t just for people in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction. It is for everybody. We are all addicts. We are all recovering. We are all returning to our roots, to our source.

We had it all figured out when we were babies. Then things got harder, and we got given a lot of rules and ways of thinking that weighed us down.

It isn’t easy to do this, this recovery. I think there is something in first acknowledging that we are broken. I think there is some healing in that.

I think there is some healing in knowing that the “bad stuff” isn’t personal. That it just happens.

You still get wet when it rains, but you don’t have to feel guilty about it.

Well, unless you are constantly forgetting your umbrella or hat, then that is all on you.