As I went through security, one baggage inspection conveyor and one metal detector, I couldn't help but notice there were eight TSA agents working the checkpoint. I'm all for safety while traveling and don't mind the security checks, but the number of government employees on duty at this tiny airport seemed skewed. Not to mention however many were working behind the scenes inspecting all the luggage that was being checked, but I assume there were at least two more. The Detroit airport has a couple of security entrances, but each of these multi-stall stations are run by the same number of people that worked the one in TC.

I'm not complaining about the security. I appreciate the people who work to ensure that flights are safe. However, I think a few less people could have done the job.

She looks you in the eyes when she says:
I've got something to offer you.
And I've got to tell you, it's not pretty.
I look at myself point blank
And still I can't tell you what kind of monster I am

Yes, she's moving on looking for direction
It's a disease, a cancer that that pulls her
Perfect for the art of execution

And still she cries "Protect me!" as her eyes close
And still her knuckles turn white hot
Squeezing out the life that demands entrance into her veins
She does not want warmth.
No, she's looking for easy redemption.

She thinks to herself:
Yes. At least I am justified.
______________________________________________________

This has nothing to do with what's written above.
FYI.

I just realized I'm on placebos. I'm not on hormones.
Jesus Christ. I was wondering why the fuck I even cared.

I turn into such a disgusting emotional tardface.
Ugh. I mean, I've realized it now. So I've got it kind of under control.
I still feel emotional. I just don't really feel LIKE being emotional.

Fuck drugs, man. If I didn't have a condition, I would be off this shit in a second.

I can't even enjoy my music right now. It's like every song is rubbing the wrong nerve.
It's just so irritating. I don't like that it makes me weak.
I care about things I'll laugh about in a couple days.
It just intensifies every emotion I've got a hundred fold.

I'm totally not even myself.

At least I'm not crying over pizza anymore.
That first week was ridiculous.

The other day was the anniversary of the death of one of my high school boyfriends - as it approached on the calendar I thought about it, as it passed I thought about it, but on the day of, the anniversary of his death, I didn't remember it. It's odd, you know, people come into your life and drift out of it, and some you never lend a second thought to until you hear they are gone - but he wasn't like that.

The relationship was of the nature of high school relationships, one you couldn't even really call love. We kissed a lot. I remember the kissing. I remember him leaning into me in the foyer of his house, pressed against the wall in one of those long lingering kisses (the kind that seems almost nonexistent once you have children and are up to your elbows in diapers). He was the first guy I slept with - and by sleep with, I don't mean sex, I mean, we actually slept.

My friend's mom used to go out of town a lot and when she was gone, we'd call the house the hotel - we'd throw parties, we'd have these marathon nights of staying up all night and driving to the airport in the morning to watch the sun come up as the planes touched down. And one weekend, we didn't have a party. My friend had her boyfriend spend the night, and I had G spend the night. We fell asleep after one of those marathon makeout sessions that left my lips swollen and me torn between do I? Don't I? (I didn't. Obviously).

When the relationship was over, we remained friends and after graduation he enlisted in the navy. [Note: I realize that when I tell about my past it is riddled with guys in the armed forces - what can I say? I think I was a hit with 'em because I like to write letters] We kept in touch throughout the year and the next summer I was in California visiting my family and friends. I saw in the paper that his ship was in port (is that how you say it? I have no freakin' idea) - his little navy boat was parked up at the base near my dad's house. Not really knowing what to do, I called his mom and told her, "If you talk to him, tell him how to reach me." And then - because I was a clueless moron, I just called the naval base and left a message for him to call me. And within a day or two, he called.

We met in San Francisco and spent the day wandering around. It was the first time that someone from my life here got to see my life in California. Not only that, he knew it better than I did. He showed me the places he had been, places he liked to hang out, neighborhoods to avoid. I took his picture in Union Square and at the end of the day, we rode the BART train sitting close holding hands.

I picture that in my head because it was the last time I saw him. If I had known, part of me thinks maybe I would have stayed on the train instead of getting off at my stop (which ended up being the wrong one, by the way).

He ended up getting married to a woman he met there, and they moved back here, and then eight years ago he hit a patch of gravel while driving and got hit by a truck. And he was gone.

I guess the song I chose isn't entirely fitting - G wasn't my first love, but his death was the first time I had lost someone close to me. The first time I realized that life is fragile. When I found out he had died, I was at work. I left work early, I pulled over and cried about it. Not just because he had died, but because it had been years since I'd seen him. Years since we'd last talked. Later, I found a copy of the picture of him in Union Square and sent it to his mom with a letter telling her about that day. At his funeral, she hugged me so hard, hugged my husband (then my fiance) telling us both that G would be so happy that we were together.

I tend to be a person who hangs on to my past - if I ever had even a semi-meaningful conversation with someone, I still remember it years later. I hang on to those moments because sometimes the reality is gone and all that is left is the memories. Sometimes I find some of the memories slipping away and it scares me - because of some of these people, that is all I have left. Fleeting thoughts of moments spent together, songs sung, kisses exchanged, embraces shared, laughter ringing. Losing that scares the hell out of me.

I have been, off and on, extremely anxious these past few months, likely due to delving too far into the secrets of my spiritual self. I'm disturbing the spiritually dead, proverbially speaking, and it's not someone else either- it's my dead self. Well of course this is all speculation, but in either case- as far as I'm concerned, I've willingly asked for a glimpse of Hell, and now I'm agonizing over whether it was really worth it.

I began this journey of self-exploration at first just to turn the nothing I was into something in the future; then, once I realized that it was not that simple, I began seeking out what that nothing was, because you cannot do anything you know nothing about, because even nothing is something

Well, all that abstract talk is just me being melodramatic...eventually, I found that the more I discovered about myself through this inference-based reasoning, the more I was able to improve upon myself. I started with internal change (opinions, morals, perspectives), and eventually harnessed these changes into habits/etc., to the point my transformation could not go unnoticed by those who "knew" me. But noooooo...that wasn't good enough for me. I had to find the unfindable answers, relying on the forbidden intuition that I should never have had- well perhaps I've just being "played" by myself- this illusion of soul-torture that I've forced upon myself due to expecting something.

But really, the possibilities are endless, so why doubt my doubts when I can "suspend judgement" on those matters- and focus my attentions on these far more engrossing and apparently irresistable obsessions. But, as you may have noted, these obsessions have really done a number on me. Why is it that I must have such depressing, such inevitably hopeless obsessions.

Now that I know that we all are motivated by the desire to run away from ourselves- or more accurately, we won't be happy unless we do everything to run away from ourselves. No- that's not even accurate. I mean "our other self" - might be our "Ego", might be our "soul" or "spirit" or "psyche"- well, it's arguable that all those words mean the same thing anyway. Perhaps- and this is most definitely the case, we are running away from something far bigger that that. But really, is that even possible, or does it even make any sense, considering at this point it's all just semantics.

Actually, I wouldn't even be able to write this post had it not been for the spontaneous impulses (that's redundant BTW) of my brother- by which I was able to clear my head sufficiently to actually think straight for the first time in 2 days. Now for some revised definitions "for the road":

Sin: Self- you know, the "other self". like I said, all semantics...

Agony: Seeing self, or a reflection/glimpse thereof- for what we really are, an eternally tortured self.

Hell: In "God's" presence we see the ugliness that we really are:

desperate, hateful, dependent, miserable, melancholic, masochistic/sadistic, vengeful, malicious, lonely, obsessed, perverted, greedy, lustful, irrate. All scum that is depicable and distasteful.

As to how such a hellish curse was eternally forced upon us, there are many possibilities, but this is my theory: Balance has always existed- it is the true God. But "in reality", Balance is only rules- just as Pythagoras's numbers did not create anything, but only organized what already existed. We, our "original" self- also existed, and were thus governed by Balance. But to gain self-awareness, our soul- as I'll call the "original self", had to pay an equal price- that is after all necessary to maintain Balance. The "Adam and Eve" story of Genesis 2-3, is IMO, a story that originally took, or more accurately, takes place outside time and a space- humans would not exist if "original self" did not become "original sin. Update: Time did exist- since it is a fundamental necessity of balance.

There are many Bible verses which support this interpretation, in several books, both the old testament and new. Although I really don't have motivation or time (b/f going 2 bed) to cite specific verses (although I probably would have if I didn't spend so much time procrastinating on Uncyclopedia- it's way to funny for my own good! see side-panel links for reference!)-

In Genesis, Isaiah, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastics, Revelation- just to name a few...

In the account of Jesus's death (found on all 4 gospels, though only a couple in sufficient detail), Jesus dies for our sake- taking the sin of the world upon himself.

I pity those millions (Billions unless it's "all for show") of Christians that completely misinterpret the Bible- it's not like I'm even close to accurate (obviously!) but at least I'm on the right track. Honestly though, how can anyone take what they call "God's Word" at face-value. It's sickening how simple people can be about things so far beyond themselves- what an insult to God!

Back to Jesus: In taking the sin upon himself- I strongly believe that this refers to the evolution of man. See, before man- there was just animals- no self-awareness.

To further understand- I'll shed some more light on my theories regarding the Soul:

The Soul is running away from itself- in denial, just as we are. That is because, in order to create life, death needed to be created. To create ecstasy, despair needed to be created. This was the price of Balance. The soul took upon itself those ugly qualities (the ones listed halfway through what I've written so far) so that it might give birth to the positives. The Soul did this so that it could have meaning, and because it was inevitable- it was in its nature to bestow benevolence. This soul is our God, and is always a part of us....Okay, for the time being ending creepy mystical mutterings...

Naturally, the Soul could not bear this state of being (hell), so it thrust itself into its creation, and became ignorant. The soul enjoyed bliss in this ignorance- animals, plants, and all life at that time, had naught but instincts, and thus had no reason to find the Soul. This is not unfeasible, as most humans today have the gift of self-awareness but do not use it, leaving it dormant.

But, in accordance with Balance, the Soul innately struggled to correct the imperfection of its beasts, and these struggles took on the form of evolution, with its battle-scars taking on the form of mutation, and its confusion was mirrored in natural chaos. As the struggle became exponentially intense, a split occurred within the Soul- this was also a necessity of balance. The struggle had reached a level so great that it threatened to destroy Balance, and an innate failsafe defense mechanism was activated within Balance, resulting in the first miracle. This miracle, having split the Soul into two, formed what I will call the "Thesis" and "Antithesis". Both the Thesis and Antithesis seek to be reunited under a Synthesis- but, in accordance with balance, this is not possible because that desire is neutralized with an equal and opposite force.

*Please note: Contrary to Augustine's theory that God exists outside time, my account, assuming "God" to be "the creator", exists within time-- Balance always exists, therefore time does. Even though God has always existed, he did within time, because Balance is also eternal. My "God" is also not infinite, and is bound by the laws of Balance.

The desire for synthesis is mirrored in our own lives to this day, because it is necessary for Balance. One might ask the question, is there then the possibility that there is also imbalance?- But if the answer was yes, that would be a moot paradox, so I wouldn't bother. (see Illogical)

Also, these events are somewhat reflected in the story of Cain and Abel.

Eventually, amid the struggles between the negative and positive that is the Soul, life evolved into increasingly complex organisms. But, in accordance with Balance, existence must be sustained by non-existence- thus, As many who are born must die. Because the animals were reproducing and flourishing, more were being born than were dying.

*Please note- keep in mind that although the Thesis and Antithesis are fighting, neither are self-aware of it, as their self-awareness is dormant within now-primitive life. Their subconsciousness's are dualing, and they are only aware of the effects, in the forms of chaos and mutation.

*Also- these circumstances are reflected in the story of Noah's Ark, particularly Gen. 6:1-7.

Now Balance was approaching the failsafe point, and- aware that the Soul had self-awareness, corrected the deficit by calling out the Soul (Antithesis and Thesis) to make a choice: allow the creation to be destroyed (which would be the second miracle), or make another sacrifice to correct the Balance in their stead. Because the Soul was now two different beings, the choice would have to be made separately. This decision could have been the long-awaited Synthesis, because both the Negative and Positive desired for life to continue flourishing. But Synthesis did not come to be.

The Positive Essence decided to sacrifice its self-awareness eternally, taking the form of Heaven or, more accurately, Nirvana.

The Negative Essence decided to keep it's self-awareness, but eternally resigned its right to ignorance, forever tormented to the ends permitted by Balance- its unhappiness mirroring the happiness of life, and vice versa. Thus, in order for life to be happy, it must be unhappy- we essentially depend on the unhappiness of the negative essence. It took the form of Hell or, more accurately, Samsara.

*Please note that there is a big difference between ignorance and self-awareness. The Positive Essence did not become ignorant by losing its self-awareness- if fact, if I understand Buddhism philosophy correctly, losing self-awareness is essential for losing all ignorance.

*As you probably already guessed, the Positive Essence's sacrifice was mirrored through the life and teachings of Gautama Buddha.

*Also note- The irony: Buddha discovered that the cause of human suffering was ignorance, but this is only one type of truth, which is derived from the Positive essence. Just as our well-being mirrors Samsara, our self-awareness mirrors the Positive Soul's lack thereof. Thus, because the Positive Soul is statically in a state of Nirvana, Balance must correct our ignorance with suffering, in accordance with Nirvana's complete lack of ignorance. On the other hand our ignorance can also grant us happiness, as ignorance makes our creator (the Negative side) unhappy. In other words, two negatives, when multiplied, make a positive. See here: God hates being ignored. Why do you think this commandment takes top spot on the 10?

*The Negative Essence was mirrored long before the Positive Essence did (Hinduism), but the effects were not fully realized until the life of Jesus. Because of the complications caused by the division of the Essences, and the sacrifices thereof, many miracles occurred up until the time of Jesus, and echoed until long after, in accordance. The effects of the Positive Essence need no be mirrored long, because it actually returned to its original self- essentially rendering it's role in the creation of life nonexistent. The original miracle through Which Nirvana's choice was reflected, was told in the allegory of Jacob and Esau (Gen. 25:30-34). Just as Esau gave up his birthright, Nirvana did as well. Key here is verse 34: ..."thus Esau despised his birthright." This mirrors the notion that Nirvana did not want it's birthright, because self-awareness actually held it captive, thus being more a hindrance than help.

(Just a thought)

Mirroring how Samsara took every kind of agony possible upon itself, Jesus took every sin upon himself. The Negative Essence became Samsara, taking Hell upon itself so that we might live- thus, the balance, at least for the time being, was complete.

Now all that remains is our choice. Because we were made in the Image of the Soul, we have self-consciousness. However, our self-consciousness is incomplete- metaphorically speaking, half complete. This is why we have two selfs. One of our selves has self-awareness, the other does not. That is because we are based upon and depend on two different Essences, of one Soul- one Essence has self-consciousness; the other does not. These two different selfs take the form of the Id and Ego.

The Id is the self-consciousless persona, derived from Nirvana

The Ego is the self-conscious persona, derived from Samsara

thus, Balance is achieved, and all that is left is for us to make the choice:

The Antithesis, the Thesis, or the Synthesis?

If we choose the Antithesis, Nirvana is achieved, ultimately

If we choose the Thesis, We will maintain self-awareness, but perpetually share with the happiness and unhappiness of the Samsara. Unfortunately, to correct the Imbalance required for us to live, we must ultimately suffer, as the suffering must outweigh happiness to compensate for life. This will continue, until we either choose Nirvana, or the third choice- the Synthesis:

Not a true Synthesis, but: We run away from our true selves, gaining ignorance through bliss, and pleasure through Denial. This is, unfortunately, the choice of the vast majority of the world. Although it is clearly the best choice for us, it is the greatest sin one can possibly commit, as we are gaining pleasure as the direct consequence of God's suffering. That is because by ignoring God we are doing that which makes him suffer most, and thus gain the greatest pleasure from it.

To end with a few verses that best reflect that last paragraph:

Mark 8- "34Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35For whoever wants to save his life^[c] will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? 37Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?" If you really think about it, you'll be taken off-guard at how closely these words match up to this post! ps.- this is probably the most on-the-spot biblical re-translation I've ever done on the spot in my life- guess I showed that Redneck/Asshole!

I keep talking of myself in third person. Its easier this way. I can step outside myself, outside of the situation and escape all blame, guilt, shame, anger and whatever else may be. It is easier for me to discover things about other people, than it is to discover things about myself. We are, somehow, expected to know ourselves. It is one of the many expectations I don’t fulfill. By referring to myself as she, her, it, you, they, I distance myself. I am light-years away before I realize I am – like I’m in a space craft on autopilot.

There here-and-now scares me Fear is not something I like to deal with, so I flee, then complain about the meaninglessness of this and pointlessness of that. At times I believe it really is all pointless. It is at those times I am most disconnected. Half the time I do not even know what I’m saying, stopping mid-sentence, having completely lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. Then there comes this odd aching in my head. Its almost always there, almost always threatening to blow into this huge headache that’ll make me cringe at the slightest sound and eventually end with a regurgitation of more than just my dinner. At times I wish it would, so the dull ache would stop for a few hours, in which I may rest. At other times the odd ache just spreads down to my throat, and then lower, till I can feel it in my chest, pressing against my lungs so each breath is a step closer to suffocating and my heart beats like it may break out of my ribcage. This is my reaction – my space ship is burning up in the Earth’s atmosphere.

Fear, I have come to realize, is one of the most influential demons in the Senatus de Cranium *coughcough* that governs my actions.

You must know, however, that I am not accustomed to fear. I love the dark, crave dangerous rides, do things for the thrill and will be the first to jump into a shrubbery at night to fetch a ball that has somehow managed to wind up in its deepest, darkest, most prickly division. Bugs do not bother me much – I feel guilty for crushing ants and even cockroaches – and most large animals, I have at some point in my life considered as pets (even snakes). There are few things I know I am afraid of, and I know precisely why. Or, have at least come up with a satisfactory enough/incomplete but partially correct explanation for all of my fears. Life has recently been added to the list, and it remains, as yet, unexplained.

You may wonder, if a fear can be explained, then why do I not solve it? Some fears cannot be solved, others I wish to not solve. My fear of thought is of the latter category. Yes, I fear thought itself. I have successfully blotted out most thought by persistent, religious, and almost compulsive use of an mp3 player. You will find one plugged into my ears at all times. If an mp3 player is not present, there will be music, somewhere, somehow, songs, with words to focus on, distracting me fro myself. In idle mind is the devils playground…or some such saying. The devil is me, and I’m a little too tired to play.

In truth, this post is a revelation, a confession and a declaration all wrapped up into a big jumble of words that have got tangled up in their mess enough to dodge the prying thought yet again –

Why the fuck am I afraid of life?

The 3 year old distributes them in an eerily perfect order. Truly, every cookie fit each person that popped it open.  If they had been switched in any other order, they would have not been thought provoking, but this time...perfection. Unfortunately, mine didn't tell me anything I hadn't already learned. My life would be difficult, but rewarding. Uh, duh?!  Seriously, I read it and rolled my eyes in irritation. Everything in my life had been difficult, a fight, a competition.  Nothing comes easy to me, ever! Or so I thought, until, I realized that I am blessed in the utmost way. I realized that, as I sit here typing I have a gift, that many will never have. I must be thankful and keep things in perspective.

While most things are a fight, pregnancy has never been a fight and I am thankful because I can't imagine how devestating it must be to want to be a mommy and being unable. Knowing how to be a mom, has come rather easily to me, both in the sense of physcally, emotionally and spiritually. Don't get me wrong, being a mom can be the most difficult job in the world,  and more trying then anything else I will face. But, God has given me a gift, of knowing how to identify with my children and to remember what it is like to be a child. I have been blessed to be able to connect with my children, and that is most rewarding.

My children, are the one thing, that no matter what, I can find joy.  I can have the most exhausting day or be living on a virtual roller coaster, via my job, or my relationship or fromtrying to help friends find their way through life. But, at the end of the day, I will open my door and my children, even the oldest, will be happy to see me and all of lifes dirtiest particles will fall away. I am always amazed at how their hugs and kisses change my perspective, in a instantaneous flash.

"Your life will be difficult, but rewarding."  My fortune cookie seemed right on, at the time, but now, I have had a chance to have my mind cleared from it's cloudy self-pity.  My life is rewarding and the difficulties only make me realize how pure and beautiful the little moments truly are.

In Form 2, when I was about 15, we had to study the novel The Phantom of the Opera. It was one of those love stories I never forgot. Not because of the happy ending. Not because the hero was hot and romantic. Not because true love conquered all. But because there was a Phantom.

That year I learned to put into words what it felt like to be a Phantom.

The Phantom, although a person, was so ugly that people did not even regard him as visible. He was a fantasm. A hallucination. But I never looked at him[Phantom] this way. The Phantom I talk about is a feeling of inconstituency that stirs rebellion. It's a position you play in a relationship that you ache for but cannot possess for reasons you can do nothing about.

Girls want someone who wants them back. Brooke Davis

Unrequited love is the worst feeling any person can have. You don't have to read the book to know this. It's a feeling a lot of us are well acquainted with. Loving someone who cannot love you back the same way. In some cases, you never loved him, but you still feel the sting knowing you weren't his choice.

Being the Phantom means obession. It means impatience. It means chasing and not being chased after. It means manipulation as a means to an end. It doesn't have or think about sacrifice on your part. Just the mind-numbing pain that you can't have that and there's ultimately nothing you can do about it.

There's a lot to be said about self-dillusionment when it comes to matters of the heart. Diane Frolov, Andrew Schneider.

The worst part of being a Phantom, is you don't know it until it's too late.

Being the Phantom means you have no happy ending.

The story does not end happily ever after for the Opera Ghost. Even his first kiss with the woman that he loved was coerced, and in the end, he dies alone.

Listening to my brother talk about the phantom in his life, I feel for her. I used to be her for crying out loud.

But listening to him and comparing myself with her, I realise I have since come a long way. The day I realised I was in love was the day the Phantom vanished from my life. Because for once, the one that I love, loves me back, and with a passion.

Thank you Jesus for loving me first and loving me back. I won't be ashamed of you.

Goal for the week: Get out of this rut!

Stay Positive:
1. People in my life <3
2. New York in two weeks
3. Back in LA four weeks

His death shocked every one of us. Some harsher than others. I will miss Larry a lot. His death is tragic in not that he was well liked and seemed to be the kindest man that walked in that store, but in that he died alone. He has no one. Police are having a really difficult time trying to find any relatives or next of kin in order to inform any remaining relatives of what happened.  He was a very private person, and rarely talked about himself or his past life. Yes, he did talk about his diabetes every once in a while and how sometimes he can get dangerously close to passing out because of low blood sugar and how he bruises easily. But he never talked about Larry, what he believed in, what he wanted in life, what he had and what he lost. He kept everything private and he kept himself at a distance from everyone at the store.  Everyone knew him as the guy you could always depend on when a problem arose because he was a walking encyclopedia of all store processes and procedures. Also, he was the guy who knew how to get free satellite tv and that knew a lot about electronics. His favorite pen was the Zebra F301. He introduced me to them because of their comfort grip and how neatly I write with them.

I wish I had know Larry more intimately. I am going to miss him greeting me in the mornings or asking how my day is going. I'm going to miss him telling me how some lady is a cook because she wants the store to replace her 15 year old refrigirator, or how he just bought some old beat up electronic and repaired it to full working condition. I am going to miss seeing him get his hot dog, Diet Coke and bag of Lay's classics from Dairy Queen and how he constantly checked his pirated satellite tv websites for new updated codes for his receivers.

He was a good man. He was a good soul. He did not deserve to die the way that he did.

I always wondered if he was happy living the way he was, and if he wasn't he had unimaginable control of his emotions and didn't let anyone know about them.  I wonder if he does have any family and if he kept in touch with them. Did he have friends or was he so private and that truly alone that only his neighbors and the people at Sears were all that he had?

My heart aches for him. I wish I would have told him how great of a guy he is. I know sometimes we made jokes about how Larry could do it all, but we joked about it because it was the truth. You could always count on Larry LeClair to get things done and to know the answer. No matter how much our store manager teased him, he never really seamed that razzled after the fact. You gave him a task and somehow he got it done. He truly was remarkable in that sense.

Can he see how much he has really touched us? Can he that there were people that did care about him, maybe not imitately like he deserved, but there were people that truly did care for his well being? I drive past his apartment on my way to see my girlfriend at times and I looked out to my right to where he had his car parked right on Belcher and see his car there. I always wondered what he did, what were his favorite tv shows, what type of books he read if he did read at all, and if he was happy. Now I wish I had stopped and just said hello. I wish I could have gotten to know him better, to actually be a friend instead of a coworker.  I wish a lot of things to not have been, but they are and I really can't change them. That is the harsh reality that I am slowly realizing.

I am glad I knew Larry LeClair. If anything, it showed me that no matter how distant we are to people and how little we have of interaction someone will always think of us.

I hope you are in a better place Larry. I am really going to miss you. I hardly knew you, but I have caught myself on the verge of tears today several times. It's funny how your death has affected us all. It really is amazing how tragedy forces us to realize bitter truths. I would like to pay my respects to you when there is a memorial. I know there will be several dozen people from Sears there to pay their respect.

I just wish you knew how much you meant to a lot of people.

I wish we had realized it before you died.

It's been a weird few days - guess I'm having a hard time getting back into the swing of things after last weekend. I'm not entirely back to my routine, I don't really know what day of the week it is, my shoulders are sunburned and peeling, I haven't lifted weights all week, and my head - my head is just clouded with stuff, and I can't seem to string two thoughts together to make sense of my mind.

It's funny, I guess... In the strange, not ha-ha, way that I'm really not upset or sad. Just feel like my head is getting slowed down with too much stuff to think of that maybe shouldn't be there. I could blame the sun and all the  hours I spent in it, but I know that's a lie and I'm not really into lying to y'all. In the past, this mood of mine might have crippled me, sent me to hide in the laundry room where I'd sit on the floor all closed around myself and cry, but I'm not doing that. I'm not doing much of anything, though.

Think it's about time for me to take my mood and get poetic with it. Seems like a waste of a mope if I don't try to wring some of the creative juice from it.

Somehow as a kid I knew that death was a permanent sort of sleep. Yet with it being sleep there was a possibility of waking up. Most people hold these contradictory sort of thoughts on a lot of subjects subconsciously. A thing is one thing but its not. It's hard to clear out that kind of mental clutter and see a thing in and of itself. It takes some kind of realization, effort and wisdom to get to all these push/pull notions.

Death, divorce, terrorism and so on are really heavy topics. To sort through them in practice is like slogging through knee deep mud. But Buddhism can handle that. Its not all that light, dancing on lotuses, airy crap that one encounters in New Age environments.

Check out this photo of the Tibetan Buddhist monastery decoration. Tibetan Buddhist really tends to address death head on. And yet the Tibetans I know tend to be some of the most humorous people I've ever met with a particular liking for the practical joke.

And I've got this Tibetan mala with skull images. It's made of bone but I don't know what kind of bone. I hope it's not human. (that was a joke-sort of) Actually I think it's yak bone.

Exactly where is the yak bone? Connected to the jaw bone. Jaw bone connected to the.....OK now I am getting silly.

For more silliness check out the post in my other blog Monsoon Diary about the cultural differences between India and Canada with regard to nipple display in Hide Those Nips

I can't handle any more of this slogging today.

[viddler id=d4b5a99d&w=437&h=370]

This weekend was somewhat of a rude awakening for my husband and myself in a sense that he learned a lot about who I am and what I love, and I learned a bit about who he is and what he does not love. It was weird. I went into this weekend with the same  hope everyone else had - that it would be a good time for us to hang, bond without the kids, and just be.

I am the daughter of a musician. I grew up with music. My dad has always been around playing piano and I have always had music in my life. While my mom isn't a musician, she is an avid-music-fan, loves music, cranks the radio and sings along, dances when the spirit moves her and just in general jams. I am totally a product of the people who gave me life and the life I was given from the day I came onto this earth. I was always in choir, band, writing music, singing random stuff, dance. Not to beat you over the head with my point, but music is as much a part of my life as, say... my elbows.

My husband was not raised that way. In his house, sports were supreme. His mother had a thing for old Loretta Lynn tunes, but beyond that, music was no more than background noise.

Husband has always said that he felt I needed hobbies - he is on a softball league, loves to hit the golf course, and all of that. I think he's always interpreted my lack of "on-the-go-ness" as me not having hobbies. "Just go do something!" he's said when I've said I need to get out of the house. "Get a hobby."

Well, music is my hobby. Writing is my hobby. Those aren't necessarily things I need to be with a group of people to do (and honestly, I've never liked to depend on other people to entertain me - I make my own amusement, I guess). These are things I can do at home. When I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop on my lap, I'm not just surfing for internet porn, I'm writing or listening to music, or whatever. It's what makes me happy.

This weekend, I was very much in my happy place. There was no where to turn where music wasn't booming from someplace or other. People were dancing, singing along, they were cheering, they were happy, they were so so happy. I was one of those people. Occasionally, I'd turn to look at my husband and he would be standing there stone still with no expression on his face, no smile. He'd give an obligatory clap when a performer was done singing, but beyond that, nothing. I could have taken a statue with me and gotten the same reaction.

Part of me was pissed off - this was a big deal to me. If he wasn't going to enjoy himself, I would have loved to take someone else who might have taken full advantage of the opportunity and the experience and been just as amazed and excited about it all as I was. Pissed off because he was getting pissed off with the other people instead of choosing to roll with things and not let the little shit bug him. At one point, I turned to him and said, "Isn't this amazing?" and he  told me, "No, actually, this sucks ass."

And he was serious.

I don't think couples have to share each other's hobbies - but I guess I was hoping for a certain  level of respect for what I love. He said to me in the car driving home, "Music is your sports." And I guess that is true, but if you take me to a football game, I can get just as loud as anyone, and I take the time to ask questions if I don't know what's up, and I do the fucking wave if that's what people are doing.

I'm not mad. I think it was good for us both - that he saw that there are things that mean a lot to me, and that I saw that it was way outside his comfort zone (so I think I'll be looking for a new date for the Counting Crows/Maroon5 show, because why waste a ticket on someone who won't love it?). It's always been apparent that our hobbies are totally separate from our lives together - sometimes I wonder what our glue is, because we don't enjoy the same things (at all!). It was definitely an eye-opening weekend.

"The way to God lies through deep darkness in which all knowledge and all created wisdom and all pleasure and prudence and all human hope and human joy are defeated and annulled by the overwhelming purity of the light and presence of God."

Thomas Merton - New Seeds of Contemplation (1962)

This passage at first sounds very contradictory. What is this about darkness and defeat and the annulling of hope and joy? It sure doesn't sound like any way towards the realization of God.

Looking at it again, though, I see Merton touching on the duality described in Toaism and Sufism. He's pointing out that what we see as opposites and separate are actually sides of the same coin; pieces of the same cloth.

He's pointing out that light and shadow are one in the same, that they can not exist without the other.

As Terry Graham points out in an article about Thomas Merton, the Trappist Monk, in the Summer 2008 edition of the Sufi Journal, this is "stunning evidence of his profound understanding of the reality of the mystical life."

By Bill Fishbein
Just before I went off to college, my dad pulled me aside to give me some words of advice. He told me that he had once read in the Talmud that, "If you change one person, you change the world". While I knew and appreciated that he was trying to share something of profound value to me, I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. There are billions of people in the world. And, changing one of them wasn't going to make one hill of beans worth of difference. Anyway, I went off to college.

In college, while other kids were drinking beer and falling in love, I was falling in love with coffee. I studied late with friends from Venezuela who brewed the most delicious coffee. I should have been as passionate about my studies as I was about the coffee. But, I graduated just the same.

Shortly after college, I returned to Providence, to help my mom and dad in their restaurant equipment business. It was a small business, but we had big dreams. Still, I envied the coffee supplier. We both entered restaurants from the back door, but he had the life! He sold coffee!

Our family went from restaurant equipment sales to gourmet housewares sales, but coffee was always on my mind so one day I told my dad I wanted to bring in a line of specialty to get customers coming in once a week instead of once in a long while. I lied. I really just wanted to run my fingers through the beans.

The business really took off but we were strapped for cash, so we borrowed a little and expanded to 2 locations. We sweated from week to week and the businesses continued to grow. We borrowed a little more and opened a third location, and then we borrowed even more and opened an upscale Jewish Delicatessen. There were lines out the door: we were officially HOT. But, we had borrowed to the hilt. We worked weekends, nights and fended off the creditors as best we could, but the struggle consumed us each day.

My dad had struggled a lot harder than I did. He had pulled himself out of the Depression with the ingenuity and creativity that could only have come from those days. He never realized the fruits of his creativity, as our businesses simply couldn't keep pace with the debt. Things began to crumble and it was a painful process. We lost everything.

This was a very public loss. Three retail shops and a restaurant, each formerly recognized as vibrant businesses in Providence. It's not easy to fail in a small town. One day everybody knows your name, the next day nobody will look you in the eye. At least it felt that way at the time.

Enter Coffee

I was 35 years old and I had failed at everything I had had ever tried. But, there was one thing I had never tried, and it was the one thing I really wanted to do: open up my own coffee house. Problem was, I was broke - dead Broke. No credit, not bankable. I did manage to borrow $4000 from a friend and with that money, I started a tiny coffee house. I sold roasted coffee only. I didn't have anywhere near enough money to build an espresso bar at a time long before the big espresso café boom seen in the US.

Business started slowly... my friends would come into the quiet store, the lack of customers so obvious, and they'd say, "Billy, Get a Job!" Those were the early days, but little by little things got better. With my first meager profits, I built that espresso bar I longed for, and began roasting my own coffee. One day I turned around and there were lines out the door, and a few hundred dollars in my pocket to boot. Not much, but there was no debt against it. I had never been there in my life.

You would think I'd be elated at that point, but I wasn't. In fact, I found myself in an emotional turmoil. I felt I was leaving a struggle, a struggle that had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. And, despite the difficulties, despite the failures, I felt that there was honor in that struggle.

Somehow, I was able to realize and confront the reality that coffee, the same coffee that I had fallen in love with so many years ago, the same coffee that gave me opportunity when it seemed the whole world had turned its back, the same coffee that was pulling me out of a financial abyss to a reasonable level of financial security... this same coffee was hardly as generous to the people who grew cared for and harvested it.

I was compelled to go to Guatemala where I met coffee-farming families for the first time in my life. I was shocked at the poverty I saw. On some of the richest lands in the world, children didn't have enough food to eat. Water born diseases were rampant and medical care was non-existent. Children suffered from easily preventable diseases. Those children who managed to survive ended up working long hours in the coffee fields instead of going to school.

All of this, from coffee. The same coffee that provided my income.

But, more than anything, I was amazed at the honor, dignity and vitality of the people who lived in such conditions. Despite their never-ending struggle, and maybe because it, they were bound together into cohesive communities, communities filled with love and joy for life, a dynamic spirit about them. Honestly, I wondered who was more impoverished - them or me. I wanted to learn from them. I had no idea at the time how much I actually would.

When I returned home I faced a dilemma. With but a few hundred dollars in my pocket, my head was telling me this was no time to become a philanthropist. At the same time, though, my heart was telling me that you can't make a profit at someone else's expense.

Enter Coffee Kids

I can honestly say that at this point, and for the first time in my life, I decided without any hesitation whatsoever to follow my heart. I started an organization called Coffee Kids in order to help coffee-farming families improve the quality of their lives. I raised money from my own business and from coffee businesses like my own, and from my own customers and from other consumers as well. I did it for personal reasons. I had to do something for the people upon whose shoulders I stood to earn a living. And, I couldn't sell one more pound of coffee without doing so.

I was fired up like never before, and money was beginning to come in. It was time to organize and start some specific projects. One project in particular stands out in my mind was the plan to help small-scale coffee-farmers in a remote region of Guatemala improve the quality and yield of their coffee crop. This made a lot of sense to me: after all, I was in the coffee business. But the following year world coffee prices plummeted and the project failed. Failed so bad that some farmers lost their farms. I felt terrible - what had I done? Who did I think I was? In my effort to help, I had tinkered with people's lives. At that point, I decided that it was time for me to shut up and start listening.

When I started listening, I began to hear things I never heard before like, "All we have is coffee. And, coffee isn't enough. The harvest only last a few months anyway so, even at the best of prices we have 7 or 8 months without income anyway. We need alternatives!"

The truth is, most of the world's coffee is grown by small-scale farmers who are totally reliant on coffee as their only source of income. Coffee is all they have In producing countries, the coffee trade is riddled with coyote-like middlemen who take advantage of impoverished coffee farmers. Add to this the fact that coffee is a volatile commodity, its daily price in the most remote regions of the world is determined by speculators in NY and London, buying and selling coffee futures, along with the futures of millions of coffee-farming families every day. Coffee is all they have, and coffee isn't enough.

I began to listen to coffee-farming families and I learned that no one knows their plight better than they do. No one knows how to deal with it better than they do. Coffee farming families have survived for generations against adversity beyond belief, families who, despite their struggle, have maintained their values, their communities and their culture. They had done all that without me.

In listening, I learned to appreciate coffee-farming families for their strengths, not their weaknesses. So, I began to build relationships with coffee-farming families and local non-government organizations to assist them. I'm talking about long-term relationships, relationships built on trust and openness.

Coffee Kids began to support projects that coffee-farmers created themselves. Projects based upon their priorities - the things important to them, not something important to me. Coffee-farming families create their own strategies to solve those problems, strategies based on their own values, their own culture. In the end, they manage and evaluate their progress based upon their own standards, not mine.

The focus of Coffee Kids' work is to help coffee farming families create alternatives for themselves so they are no longer totally reliant on coffee as a sole source of income. With coffee-farming families as the guides, Coffee Kids has supported women's savings and lending groups that help women start small cottage-type businesses, businesses related to their local economies, not the unreliable northern market.

Coffee Kids has supported women's health collectives affording women the opportunity to take responsibility for their children's health and nutrition. And, Coffee Kids has supported education programs that provide scholarships for children to attend secondary school and even the university, children who otherwise would not have been able to receive any education at all.

Coffee Kids has helped coffee-farming communities organize themselves and become consultants for other coffee farming communities, communities that are now able to take responsibility for their own development, to carve out their own vision of the future.

Today, there is a glut of coffee on the world market that continuously suppresses world coffee prices. Coffee-farming families throughout the world face their worst crisis in history. In fact, considering inflation, world coffee prices have plummeted to a 100-year low, leaving experienced coffee-dependent farmers with little choice but to leave their homes and their farms for jobs in the cities. Worse still, some risk their lives to cross the border to neighboring countries. Families are breaking up, communities are evaporating, and cultures are being destroyed.

While this is going on, world financial institutions and international agricultural agencies have presided over the largest increase in coffee production in history. In fact, as experienced coffee farmers from one side of the world leave their farms, less experienced farmers from an even poorer part of the world start planting coffee, mostly poor quality coffee.

Vietnam, which had never been a major producer of coffee, has suddenly become the second largest producer in the world, second only to Brazil. Coffee production continues to increase even as prices continue to drop, defying the laws of supply and demand. The overwhelming dependency on coffee has ensured that the only thing sustainable about coffee is the coffee crisis.

And yet, while millions of coffee farming families are becoming refugees, many who work with Coffee Kids have income in addition to coffee and have been able to remain at home with their families and their farms. Cultures thriving, communities in tact, farms functioning and families together.

It hasn't all been rosy. Every project has had its share of challenges. But, I learned a long time ago, that within each failure lie the seeds for success. So, Coffee Kids stand behind coffee-farming families who are struggling and we support them through their difficulties until they find their way, as they pick themselves up and create their own futures.

Over the past 15 years, there have been many times when I thought about giving up. But, each time I do, I think of the people who can't give up, people with whom I have had the honor to work, the people who's struggle I have had the honor to share. And, it is true. There is honor in the struggle.

Fifteen years ago, I made the conscious decision to follow my heart. And, when I did, I discovered a new world. I have discovered a world where people hold the solution to their own problems. I have discovered a world where generosity is abundant in the poorest of the poor.

In a world where I used to see poverty, I now see opportunity. Where I used to see weakness, I now see strength. And, while I still like to hear myself talk every now and then, I have found far more value in listening.

Sometimes I feel as if I were seduced into the exotic world of coffee to join coffee farming families in their struggle to liberate themselves from their dependency upon the same coffee that brought me to them. My life has changed so much over these past 15 years.

In fact, one day I realized that the whole world looked different to me, that for me, the whole world had changed. And, that's when I realized that my dad was right. If you change one person you do change the world.

He just didn't tell me who he was talking about.

Source: CoffeeGeek.com
About the Author
Bill Fishbein is the founder, Executive Director, and on the Board of Directors (as Treasurer) of Coffee Kids: Grounds for Hope, an international nonprofit organization. Coffee Kids works with local non-governmental community organizations in Latin America to create education, health-care, training, and microenterprise programs for coffee farmers and their families.

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Turbo Tagger

Do you Ever feel as if you are wandering?

Sitting alone, looking out over Eddisbury hill watching the cloud line shifting and changing with the ever freshening breeze. The sun was shining down on what seemed a silver tower the sun glinting off the object from all angles. Like a sign from celestial presences.

At that moment it seemed as if all time had stopped, suspended in motion, I was with 12 other people that day and looking around to see if anyone else was seeing and experiencing the same as me I saw them all looking in the same direction. I asked my friend what they thought that was that we were looking at? answer... "That is a mystery"

To explain that statement. Life is a mystery isn't it! I have spent to long wondering and hoping and wishing things to be.

This life is but a short episode. One thing is for for certain it is not eternal. From the moment we are born in to this world our time is counting down until we leave! Where we go to when we leave is a complex issue one that is set to fuel debates for Centuries to come!

This life is but a short episode. One thing is for for certain it is not eternal. From the moment we are born in to this world our time is counting down until we leave! Where we go to when we leave is a complex issue one that is set to fuel debates for Centuries to come!

But one thing is for certain, wishing is not proactive! Wishing is only an escape it is sadly not real! It is a projection of yourself and where you see or wanted to see your life and all it encompasses.

The point I feel is that wishes are not actually false hopes, there has to be some substance to your wishes. I don't mean the ones such as becoming an astronaut obviously, but the ones that see you as a happy, loved, solvent and secure. The question is are these hopes or wishes?

Mistakes

I spent a lot of time wishing for things to be that were never going to be realized. A good friend said to me recently and I totally agree. Why waste my time on things that are neither going to happen or if they did then it would not bring contentment. See you get yourself into a pattern of thinking and over a prolonged time the sad truth is you start believing you are what you are not!

Friends

You know you have good friends when however low and depressed you feel they are willing to listen and I feel help you out of the pits, friends remember the "Real You" and are able to mentally separate the now from the then! Sadly some people can masquerade as your friend but actually they don't really care they are all to easily swayed with the now and forgetful of the then.

Granted if you wrong your friends then they are going to be rightfully annoyed at you for a while. Until recently I have been using the word "Friend" and not realizing it's true meaning!

What Friends Are

• Caring
• Loyal
• Supportive
• Understanding
• Similar to some extent!

What Friends Aren't

• Two Faced.
• Vengeful
• Calculating
• To Easy to listen to others who they don't know and forming opinions on a person they don't know
• Underhanded

Recently I have been involved in a dispute with a so called friend who is trying to get to the bottom of something that due to their ignorance and lack of understanding is clasping at numbers and arriving at the wrong answer!

Thinking this all through now I realize it matters not to me any more, the point is I cared about the situation and didn't want to hurt them however I have realized this is totally one way. I think I am intelligent and now is the time to say I am walking away with my head held high.

Lessons Learnt

After this I will not be as quick to trust, I really do know who my friends are and I thank you for being there! These are the people who you might not see often but you still care about and call and meet for an occasional beer, make you smile and think of good things. Dreams and hopes are good but if you can why dream Go out and Do!

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Every Christian worth his or her salt wants to know the will of God for their life, right?

Of course you do! You are a Christian! You are all about doing the right thing!

OK. We're going to let the cat out of the bag ahead of time. You won't have to sign up for seminar X and pay $75 to Pastor Gnosticfeld and buy his latest book, "Green Socks, Red Socks...know for sure which ones God wants you to wear today."

Here is the super-special, hard to find out secret that all Christians everywhere are yearning for...

towards the end of Matthew 22, our Lord Jesus says it Himself when asked what is it that we need to do to fulfill all righteousness, " Love God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. And, love your neighbor as yourself."

Also in John 6 verse 28,  the people asked Jesus, "What must we do to be doing the works of God?"  Jesus replied, "Believe in the one whom He has sent."

There it is.   You want to know God's will for your life?  "Love God and your neighbor as yourself."   You want to do God's will?  "Believe in the one whom He has sent."

"Yeah...that's great...but what color socks should I put on today...?"   Holy mackerel!!!

Sometimes when I am writing it gets a little to easy to say more than I meant to. I find a lot of comfort in the walls that I have, and I find a lot of comfort in the fact that most of the time, I can manage to keep people on the outer fringe of my walls. Sometimes I fail. Sometimes I forget that when I'm writing, blogging, IMing,Twitter-ing, whatever, that the words flow and that once I let them out they aren't just for me anymore.

I suppose that is okay.

I've always loved writing. It's always been my outlet, my release, my escape from it all, and it's always been my dream to someway, somehow find a way to make my way in life with my words. This weekend is the closest I've ever come to that, and I am feeling over the moon with the opportunity that came my way. It almost feels like a sort of validation, or even a pat on the back, telling me that maybe I'm not so misguided in my dream, and that maybe I can take this opportunity and run with it - make it something more.

I won a contest.

I know that sounds somewhat lame. It's not. I entered a contest that required writing - it was based on creative writing ability, music knowledge and mad writing skillz. And I freakin' WON. I won some amazing free passes to an amazingly huge deal this weekend, and with the local media, I'll be blogging the event. This is a massive push for me and the win is awesome on many levels, but mostly because it wasn't just dumb luck making them draw my name out of a hat.

I may not be around much this weekend. I have yet to decide if I'll write some posts to automatically publish while I'm gone. I will have my laptop at the hotel- but the days will be long, so I'm not promising anything. Keep your fingers crossed for me, and pray the gods of writers' block go bug someone else.