Last week was a little disjointed, energy-wise... much like the weather here in the high desert, I guess... a bit of sun, a bit of wind, a bit of rain or snow, a bit more sun, and so it goes...
I was denied a job because I don't have enough experience with a shovel and rake... really? Really. I guess all those summers doing side jobs landscaping and the last several years working in the Community Gardens don't count.
We almost have Cassi's room ready for her and baby... should have it done by the end of today.
Applied for a few Army civilian contractor jobs... 13-18 month stints in different locations in the Middle East... Bahrain, Afghanistan, United Arab Emirates... distance sucks, but I need a job. Like Rocky says, I can study, accept, and adapt to cultures relatively quickly.
I was once told, many years ago, "There are people who have to go out to experience the world... but there are those (like you) who don't have to, because the world shows up on their doorsteps." I'm still not entirely sure that's true of me and my life... though it seems to be coming around lately.
I've noticed the bird song is changing from the winter "where's the food? where's the food? where's the food? where's the food?"... to the spring time "oh, hey, how You doin'? like my tail feathers? whatcha doin' Saturday night? your nest or mine?"
Finally got David to enroll in TMCC... might still have to kick him in the ass before he calls and makes an appointment for a counselor... or make it for him and drive him down there.
Got a (joking) marriage proposal from one of the guys at Tent City last week... when he asked, "How did you get so beautiful?", I had to bite my tongue. It probably wouldn't have been right to tell him, "You think I'm beautiful because you're hungry, and I'm fat and have food."
Then again... what is beauty?
I do believe that everyone is a beautiful, spiritual being underneath all the human trappings... even those who forget, and live so far into the peripheral ego that they lose sight of their Core... but that's just me.
I can't wait until I can get outside and start working the land again... although I know that by the time October rolls around, I won't even want to look at a shovel. I know it's getting close... the weeds are already starting to come up... the evil mutant weeds that laugh at anything less than Agent Orange.
As soon as the ground thaws, I need to turn the soil in the boxes and the compost. I won't be able to turn two of the compost piles until June or so... when the ground squirrel babies emerge from the tunnels and nests they've built in the piles.
Regardless of weather... in a couple more weeks, I have got to get the peas, broccoli, and spinach planted... they like the cold.
It looks like one of the chickens got into a scrap with something... she lost a few claws somehow, along with quite a bit of blood... don't know if she'll survive it, but I'm keeping an eye on her.
.... as scattered as the weather....
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Simplicity
It's really quite simple, folks...
If you don't want to participate in the things I'm doing, then don't participate.
If you don't believe in the concepts of what I'm doing, then don't give them consideration.
If you "don't want to hear about it," then don't watch the videos or read this blog.
If you continue to send messages to dissuade me from these things that inspire me, I will just simply stop reading anything you send.
It really is that easy.
Are we clear?
If you don't want to participate in the things I'm doing, then don't participate.
If you don't believe in the concepts of what I'm doing, then don't give them consideration.
If you "don't want to hear about it," then don't watch the videos or read this blog.
If you continue to send messages to dissuade me from these things that inspire me, I will just simply stop reading anything you send.
It really is that easy.
Are we clear?
Choices
I was living with my Aunt Beth (who makes the absolute best homemade donuts ever) and attending North Eugene High...
One morning I grabbed up a small bag of the delicious pastry morsels to share with my friends, put them in with my sandwich, and headed off to school.
As I walked through the fast food restaurant parking lot toward River Road, I saw something that made my heart fall into my boots. A young boy sat at one of the patio tables outside the closed restaurant, feasting on cold fries and partial hamburgers. An older gentleman rummaged through the trash cans, drinking the dregs of "fry sauce" packages and devouring every bit of food he found. I would have guessed their ages at 6 and 60.
I paused for just a moment, taking in the scene and processing all of emotions overwhelming me. As I started walking toward them, the boy hid under the table. The older man began speaking in a language I didn't understand, but the pleading tone of his voice and hand gestures was unmistakable. I smiled at him and raised my hands, to communicate that I meant him no harm, and handed over my lunch sack.
Both his eyes and mine filled with tears of gratitude... his for the food, mine for the opportunity to reach out and make a positive contribution to their lives.
It really is that easy.
The choice is yours, every day, to make a positive contribution or turn away.
You may have stories or circumstances about why you can't, won't, or shouldn't help.
It may be completely against your personal values and ethics to help others... and I accept that... or maybe you will only help certain people, or people in certain situations... and I accept that... but don't try to tell me, "It's not that easy."
One morning I grabbed up a small bag of the delicious pastry morsels to share with my friends, put them in with my sandwich, and headed off to school.
As I walked through the fast food restaurant parking lot toward River Road, I saw something that made my heart fall into my boots. A young boy sat at one of the patio tables outside the closed restaurant, feasting on cold fries and partial hamburgers. An older gentleman rummaged through the trash cans, drinking the dregs of "fry sauce" packages and devouring every bit of food he found. I would have guessed their ages at 6 and 60.
I paused for just a moment, taking in the scene and processing all of emotions overwhelming me. As I started walking toward them, the boy hid under the table. The older man began speaking in a language I didn't understand, but the pleading tone of his voice and hand gestures was unmistakable. I smiled at him and raised my hands, to communicate that I meant him no harm, and handed over my lunch sack.
Both his eyes and mine filled with tears of gratitude... his for the food, mine for the opportunity to reach out and make a positive contribution to their lives.
It really is that easy.
The choice is yours, every day, to make a positive contribution or turn away.
You may have stories or circumstances about why you can't, won't, or shouldn't help.
It may be completely against your personal values and ethics to help others... and I accept that... or maybe you will only help certain people, or people in certain situations... and I accept that... but don't try to tell me, "It's not that easy."
Thursday, February 4, 2010
What was I thinking?
I can't sleep.
I'm not sure if it's because of the bulldog "chasing rabbits" against my back or because I just can't seem to flip the off switch on my mind... in any case, there's a whole lot of words floating around in my head that were getting pretty impatient... so, here I am.
The topic of tonight's musings is a special edition of "What was I thinking?"
No, I'm not going to entertain you with humorous stories and anecdotes... at least not this time... this is the more "serious" side of things... the kind where you think back and just have to shake your head and wonder... and hope you've grown out of it.
Tonight we're talking about trying too hard to be someone else so you can fit in, only to eventually realize the "in-crowd" could see right through it and you pretty much looked like a fool.
I got a couple extra t-shirts on that one... maybe I should donate them to homeless... hmm.
Before I turned 32 or so, I rarely fit in anywhere... the turning point for me, I think, was when I began to develop a "micro-culture" around me that allowed for my own special cultural deviance. Beyond not knowing how to create such a place, it was a difficult task, considering I had no idea I was even doing it at the time.
But before all... *waves hands around*... that... I tried reaaaaaallly hard to fit my round ass into square pigeonholes. A lot.
And I tried too hard. A lot.
And I failed. A lot.
And it was obvious what I was doing. A lot.
I look back and I can see instance after instance where all I can do is shake my head and feel grateful and hopeful that I've grown past that.
Oh, I still have set-backs every now and then, when I encounter a situation where I'm not accepted... and when I come to my senses, the first thing that crosses my mind is, "What was I thinking?"
I've recently been told that I shouldn't put "negative" labels on myself (see the previous post "The Uncanny Margie").
Who the hell said that it was "negative?"
I don't conform well to what some people believe I should act like and be like... I recognize that, I'm ok with that.
I acknowledge that some people view me as "uncanny" because I don't fit in their square pigeonhole. I'm ok with that.
so... tell me, just what part of that makes it "negative?"
People will see what they want to see... and if that means they see me as uncanny or negative or in need of mental help, then that's what they'll see.
I'm not going to try to conform to the norm.
I've got enough of those "What the hell was I thinking?" moments.
I'm not sure if it's because of the bulldog "chasing rabbits" against my back or because I just can't seem to flip the off switch on my mind... in any case, there's a whole lot of words floating around in my head that were getting pretty impatient... so, here I am.
The topic of tonight's musings is a special edition of "What was I thinking?"
No, I'm not going to entertain you with humorous stories and anecdotes... at least not this time... this is the more "serious" side of things... the kind where you think back and just have to shake your head and wonder... and hope you've grown out of it.
Tonight we're talking about trying too hard to be someone else so you can fit in, only to eventually realize the "in-crowd" could see right through it and you pretty much looked like a fool.
I got a couple extra t-shirts on that one... maybe I should donate them to homeless... hmm.
Before I turned 32 or so, I rarely fit in anywhere... the turning point for me, I think, was when I began to develop a "micro-culture" around me that allowed for my own special cultural deviance. Beyond not knowing how to create such a place, it was a difficult task, considering I had no idea I was even doing it at the time.
But before all... *waves hands around*... that... I tried reaaaaaallly hard to fit my round ass into square pigeonholes. A lot.
And I tried too hard. A lot.
And I failed. A lot.
And it was obvious what I was doing. A lot.
I look back and I can see instance after instance where all I can do is shake my head and feel grateful and hopeful that I've grown past that.
Oh, I still have set-backs every now and then, when I encounter a situation where I'm not accepted... and when I come to my senses, the first thing that crosses my mind is, "What was I thinking?"
I've recently been told that I shouldn't put "negative" labels on myself (see the previous post "The Uncanny Margie").
Who the hell said that it was "negative?"
I don't conform well to what some people believe I should act like and be like... I recognize that, I'm ok with that.
I acknowledge that some people view me as "uncanny" because I don't fit in their square pigeonhole. I'm ok with that.
so... tell me, just what part of that makes it "negative?"
People will see what they want to see... and if that means they see me as uncanny or negative or in need of mental help, then that's what they'll see.
I'm not going to try to conform to the norm.
I've got enough of those "What the hell was I thinking?" moments.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
The Uncanny Margie
I was talking to a friend last night... and he told me something that I find really interesting and confuddling at the same time. He was trying to give me a different perspective on how some people view me, my actions, motivations, and work. He told me some people have a really hard time understanding because I am “uncanny.”
So... basically... if I reside in the “uncanny valley” of their perceptions, as he believes... then I’m ranking right in there with androids, prosthetics, corpses, and zombies.
In their perceptions, I resemble a human, but don’t act like what a human is supposed to act like and don’t think like what a human is supposed to think like. I’m “too lifelike” without being “real,” although they can sense that I am “real”... like those china dolls that give me shivers down my spine, I am just as “creepy.”
In reaction to my strangeness and unfamiliarity, they respond in a few different ways:
“Stop acting like that. Stop doing the things you’re doing.”
“I don’t understand the motives you claim for doing this. I’ll just create my own story about why you’re doing it, something I’m familiar with that I can understand.”
“You’re weird. I don’t want to be around you.”
“You’re too different. I’m going to beat you up.”
Of course there are some people who understand me and identify with what I’m doing... but they don’t consider me to be “uncanny.”
I’m actually rather familiar with being perceived as uncanny.
I still remember the whispers from when I was in grade school... small towns aren’t very accepting when you’re a “strange child.” I was too giving, too caring, felt too much sympathy and empathy. I could see things no one else saw, felt things other people didn’t feel, believed in things others didn’t.
All of this translated in my young adult years as, “You’re such a cute little country bumpkin.”
As an adult I’ve been dubbed as naïve and “fluffy.”
And now, I’m “uncanny.”
Is that so?
I believe in the good in mankind. I believe in innocent until proven guilty. I believe that all men are created equal... and stay equal. I believe we can overcome indoctrination. I believe we can evolve, that we don’t have to live in the past. I believe that healthy people will act in altruistic ways when given the chance. I believe that if we focus on the positive in our lives, we will bring more positives into our lives. I believe in many things that others may not understand.
If that makes me strange, naïve, fluffy, or uncanny... so be it.
So... basically... if I reside in the “uncanny valley” of their perceptions, as he believes... then I’m ranking right in there with androids, prosthetics, corpses, and zombies.
In their perceptions, I resemble a human, but don’t act like what a human is supposed to act like and don’t think like what a human is supposed to think like. I’m “too lifelike” without being “real,” although they can sense that I am “real”... like those china dolls that give me shivers down my spine, I am just as “creepy.”
In reaction to my strangeness and unfamiliarity, they respond in a few different ways:
“Stop acting like that. Stop doing the things you’re doing.”
“I don’t understand the motives you claim for doing this. I’ll just create my own story about why you’re doing it, something I’m familiar with that I can understand.”
“You’re weird. I don’t want to be around you.”
“You’re too different. I’m going to beat you up.”
Of course there are some people who understand me and identify with what I’m doing... but they don’t consider me to be “uncanny.”
I’m actually rather familiar with being perceived as uncanny.
I still remember the whispers from when I was in grade school... small towns aren’t very accepting when you’re a “strange child.” I was too giving, too caring, felt too much sympathy and empathy. I could see things no one else saw, felt things other people didn’t feel, believed in things others didn’t.
All of this translated in my young adult years as, “You’re such a cute little country bumpkin.”
As an adult I’ve been dubbed as naïve and “fluffy.”
And now, I’m “uncanny.”
Is that so?
I believe in the good in mankind. I believe in innocent until proven guilty. I believe that all men are created equal... and stay equal. I believe we can overcome indoctrination. I believe we can evolve, that we don’t have to live in the past. I believe that healthy people will act in altruistic ways when given the chance. I believe that if we focus on the positive in our lives, we will bring more positives into our lives. I believe in many things that others may not understand.
If that makes me strange, naïve, fluffy, or uncanny... so be it.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Boundaries of Shame and Joy
Many years ago, when my son was still an infant babe, my small family lived in low income apartments in Junction City, Oregon. It was our first Halloween as a family. I wanted it to be special, but I had no idea how special it was really going to be. Most of the families there couldn't afford costumes or make-up... many of them were struggling like we were... like I had for most of my life.
I put my son in his stroller, and I went on a mission... I got donations from every store in town to help these kids. I even got the apartment manager involved and we created a haunted house out of one of the apartments that couldn't be rented because of plumbing issues.
We led the kids around the block in our little Halloween Parade, then ended up at the Haunted Apartment for screams and scares and my solo rendition of the Shakespearean witches of Macbeth.
That night the apartment complex was filled with the sounds of children laughing, when most nights we just prayed for the angry, hungry, and frightened noises to calm.
For that one night, the children were happy... and I felt a Joy that I couldn't find words to express.
From that time on, I wanted to help whoever I could, however I could... I wanted everyone to feel the Joy I had experienced.
But, as the Fates do weave, I hadn't learned about setting Boundaries in my life... and so I allowed people into my life who took advantage of my giving nature... people who would take what I had to give and then expect (or even demand) more... people who felt no gratitude, only greed...
Without Boundaries to protect me, I was drained...
Without Boundaries, I was lost...
I allowed others to sway my perceptions until I saw through the eyes of a condemning judgmentalist.
The Joy I had once felt was replaced with cynical, jaded, begrudging skepticism.
I stopped giving... and I lost more of me...
It was around that time when I was approached by another who was requesting help... not for herself, but for a neighbor up the street. She was going back east to visit relatives, and wanted to make sure someone stopped in to bring him food while she was gone. I told her I would "see what I could do" but I really didn't try to do anything.
My ego immediately began to develop stories about this person in need... stories about who the person "really" is, and the "real" reason they need help, etc.
Then my ego began to attach emotions to those stories... anger, resentment, self-righteousness, and all of those other emotions the ego could use to convince me that the person was "undeserving"... the "Why should I help, if they don't help themselves? I've been poor and I've survived, they just need to suck it up" story of superiority.
Such is the way of the ego.
Ego stories are rarely true... but facts aren't often checked when the ego has a firm grip on what you believe reality to be.
In my inaction, a man died.
He starved to death.
He was a shut-in with no transportation, no phone.
He was a decorated Veteran on limited income... barely enough to cover the mortgage and utilities.
He was survived by his only son... who only visited once every two or three months... from Carson City.
I will Never make that mistake again.
Even though I have helped many people through the years since then, it's only recently that I've been able to experience even a glimmer of the Joy I once had.
Finally, I am able to set true boundaries...
... so that I am not acting out of shame and guilt for my previous inaction... thus over-compensating and draining myself of resources I need for my own family.
... so that those who are caught up in feelings of expectant entitlement or intended dependence will understand my boundaries... and will not drain me or my resources dry.
... so that when I give or deny, it's not about ego or the stories it tells... but about the recognition of need and the ability to assist
Boundaries essentially hold ego in place, so I can get out of my own way.
May you all experience Joy.
I put my son in his stroller, and I went on a mission... I got donations from every store in town to help these kids. I even got the apartment manager involved and we created a haunted house out of one of the apartments that couldn't be rented because of plumbing issues.
We led the kids around the block in our little Halloween Parade, then ended up at the Haunted Apartment for screams and scares and my solo rendition of the Shakespearean witches of Macbeth.
That night the apartment complex was filled with the sounds of children laughing, when most nights we just prayed for the angry, hungry, and frightened noises to calm.
For that one night, the children were happy... and I felt a Joy that I couldn't find words to express.
From that time on, I wanted to help whoever I could, however I could... I wanted everyone to feel the Joy I had experienced.
But, as the Fates do weave, I hadn't learned about setting Boundaries in my life... and so I allowed people into my life who took advantage of my giving nature... people who would take what I had to give and then expect (or even demand) more... people who felt no gratitude, only greed...
Without Boundaries to protect me, I was drained...
Without Boundaries, I was lost...
I allowed others to sway my perceptions until I saw through the eyes of a condemning judgmentalist.
The Joy I had once felt was replaced with cynical, jaded, begrudging skepticism.
I stopped giving... and I lost more of me...
It was around that time when I was approached by another who was requesting help... not for herself, but for a neighbor up the street. She was going back east to visit relatives, and wanted to make sure someone stopped in to bring him food while she was gone. I told her I would "see what I could do" but I really didn't try to do anything.
My ego immediately began to develop stories about this person in need... stories about who the person "really" is, and the "real" reason they need help, etc.
Then my ego began to attach emotions to those stories... anger, resentment, self-righteousness, and all of those other emotions the ego could use to convince me that the person was "undeserving"... the "Why should I help, if they don't help themselves? I've been poor and I've survived, they just need to suck it up" story of superiority.
Such is the way of the ego.
Ego stories are rarely true... but facts aren't often checked when the ego has a firm grip on what you believe reality to be.
In my inaction, a man died.
He starved to death.
He was a shut-in with no transportation, no phone.
He was a decorated Veteran on limited income... barely enough to cover the mortgage and utilities.
He was survived by his only son... who only visited once every two or three months... from Carson City.
I will Never make that mistake again.
Even though I have helped many people through the years since then, it's only recently that I've been able to experience even a glimmer of the Joy I once had.
Finally, I am able to set true boundaries...
... so that I am not acting out of shame and guilt for my previous inaction... thus over-compensating and draining myself of resources I need for my own family.
... so that those who are caught up in feelings of expectant entitlement or intended dependence will understand my boundaries... and will not drain me or my resources dry.
... so that when I give or deny, it's not about ego or the stories it tells... but about the recognition of need and the ability to assist
Boundaries essentially hold ego in place, so I can get out of my own way.
May you all experience Joy.
Bold Honesty
I have read all manner of books on leadership styles, and have several more in my book case I haven't started... yet, with all of these "pearls" captured in so many works, why am I focusing on Mr King?
Not too long ago, a young adult relayed the following observation regarding the community:
"This community needs a Martin Luther King, but not in the same way the people did back then. Our biggest problem isn't coming from people who don't believe the same way we do... it's coming from the person sitting next to you in the meetings. Our greatest opposition comes from people inside our own community. Until that changes, it's going to be the same shit it's always been... and we [the next generation] will have to clean up after all you guys before we can actually build something."
There it is... the bold honesty of this community's youth.
I can't be a Martin Luther King... because I'm not Martin Luther King... and wouldn't presume to even try to be Martin Luther King.
I am not such a great leader as Martin Luther King Jr.
But I am a leader who admires his dedication and technique.
His work was not about him... but the Mission, the Cause.
As I realized that, I admired him all the more.
There were those who looked to Martin Luther King Jr and challenged him,
"Who are You to speak for me? You don't speak for All of Us!"
There were those whose lives became Very uncomfortable due to his actions, who became angry at the added discomfort, and challenged,
"Why are you doing this? We didn't ask you to do this for us!"
Martin Luther King Jr didn't heed these oppositions from those who ultimately benefited from his work... and neither will I.
Not too long ago, a young adult relayed the following observation regarding the community:
"This community needs a Martin Luther King, but not in the same way the people did back then. Our biggest problem isn't coming from people who don't believe the same way we do... it's coming from the person sitting next to you in the meetings. Our greatest opposition comes from people inside our own community. Until that changes, it's going to be the same shit it's always been... and we [the next generation] will have to clean up after all you guys before we can actually build something."
There it is... the bold honesty of this community's youth.
I can't be a Martin Luther King... because I'm not Martin Luther King... and wouldn't presume to even try to be Martin Luther King.
I am not such a great leader as Martin Luther King Jr.
But I am a leader who admires his dedication and technique.
His work was not about him... but the Mission, the Cause.
As I realized that, I admired him all the more.
There were those who looked to Martin Luther King Jr and challenged him,
"Who are You to speak for me? You don't speak for All of Us!"
There were those whose lives became Very uncomfortable due to his actions, who became angry at the added discomfort, and challenged,
"Why are you doing this? We didn't ask you to do this for us!"
Martin Luther King Jr didn't heed these oppositions from those who ultimately benefited from his work... and neither will I.
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