Sunday, December 21, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
What is your gift? (12/14/08)
It was a watch from Coach, but she said, "I like it, I don't love it," so we exchanged it today for another one.
??
My gift is connecting people with books, ideas, thoughts, other
persons, jobs. I am a matchmaker.
??
one of many founded on kali and sobriety is meditation, which is described wonderfully by my teacher's teacher here http://www.jikoji.org/Kobun/aspects.html
??
I make people laugh
??
this I've been told all my life is my gift: a capacity to be present, listen, and engage with people in a way that is extraordinary both in how effortless it is to me and in how deeply reassuring it is to others. I seem to truly "see" people, and often they bask in that seeing.
that, and the man I'm dating says I'm a great kisser. yeeha.
and I can make one of hell of a chocolate cake.
OK so that's three, but I never claimed that brevity was one of my gifts!
??
the ability to see in a new way on a daily basis.
??
Transmutation.
??
Parallel parking
??
my experience strength and hope and my ability to
transcend
??
perseverance, patience, and resilience that have gotten me through the ugliest of times. those gifts have come in pretty handy.
??
Personally, I think my gift is the ability to see all sides of a
situation, and to approach things with a detached sense of humor.
Relatedly, I think the gift of compassion is the greatest gift people
can give, and something that we're all capable of, and I would love to
hone this in myself!
??
being alive
??
The music in my soul - I got the music in me!
??
The one I recieve: coffee in bed with handmade cards
The one I give: my time, my love, my advice (sometimes unwanted)
My gifts are love
??
my teacher
??
Perception (when I'm conscious).
??
helping others to connect to the divine......and being a good listener.
??
The one that was given to me is my ability to live some kind of life in each gender, without feeling pressured to stay rooted in one or the other. I may not want to do that the rest of my life, but it's been an eight year vacation so far.
The gift I give is my own understandings about why we go to extremes, if and when we do.
??
The crazier the situation, the calmer I am
??
Insatiable thirst for knowledge.
??
Being here
??
The ability to heal sick animals, and my quirky and eccentric art.
??
My gift to others is love and respect. for myself, love and life!
??
Endurance / stamina. I have an amazing capacity to labor until the job is done and done right.
??
My life
??
I have a profound and apparently inexhaustible propensity to bullshit eloquently.
??
My smart ass answers aren't funny enough so I'll give you the heartfelt one -- a useful life of the spirit. Happy Solstice, all!
??
And mine...
Asking.
Seeing blind spots.
Writing on the sidewalk.
??
My gift is connecting people with books, ideas, thoughts, other
persons, jobs. I am a matchmaker.
??
one of many founded on kali and sobriety is meditation, which is described wonderfully by my teacher's teacher here http://www.jikoji.org/Kobun/aspects.html
??
I make people laugh
??
this I've been told all my life is my gift: a capacity to be present, listen, and engage with people in a way that is extraordinary both in how effortless it is to me and in how deeply reassuring it is to others. I seem to truly "see" people, and often they bask in that seeing.
that, and the man I'm dating says I'm a great kisser. yeeha.
and I can make one of hell of a chocolate cake.
OK so that's three, but I never claimed that brevity was one of my gifts!
??
the ability to see in a new way on a daily basis.
??
Transmutation.
??
Parallel parking
??
my experience strength and hope and my ability to
transcend
??
perseverance, patience, and resilience that have gotten me through the ugliest of times. those gifts have come in pretty handy.
??
Personally, I think my gift is the ability to see all sides of a
situation, and to approach things with a detached sense of humor.
Relatedly, I think the gift of compassion is the greatest gift people
can give, and something that we're all capable of, and I would love to
hone this in myself!
??
being alive
??
The music in my soul - I got the music in me!
??
The one I recieve: coffee in bed with handmade cards
The one I give: my time, my love, my advice (sometimes unwanted)
My gifts are love
??
my teacher
??
Perception (when I'm conscious).
??
helping others to connect to the divine......and being a good listener.
??
The one that was given to me is my ability to live some kind of life in each gender, without feeling pressured to stay rooted in one or the other. I may not want to do that the rest of my life, but it's been an eight year vacation so far.
The gift I give is my own understandings about why we go to extremes, if and when we do.
??
The crazier the situation, the calmer I am
??
Insatiable thirst for knowledge.
??
Being here
??
The ability to heal sick animals, and my quirky and eccentric art.
??
My gift to others is love and respect. for myself, love and life!
??
Endurance / stamina. I have an amazing capacity to labor until the job is done and done right.
??
My life
??
I have a profound and apparently inexhaustible propensity to bullshit eloquently.
??
My smart ass answers aren't funny enough so I'll give you the heartfelt one -- a useful life of the spirit. Happy Solstice, all!
??
And mine...
Asking.
Seeing blind spots.
Writing on the sidewalk.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Who do you let hurt you? (12/7/08)
i think nobody except me. I allow myself to hurt me, and when I allow others that is the same thing, really.
??
No one
??
Aw, dudette, I misread that question. I thought you asked "what" i let hurt me. can i have a redo?
"Who do you let hurt you?":
Whoever's in the mirror when I want to hurt myself.
??
people I admire, love or in power with my pay check
??
The A-hole drivers out there, that drive with there heads up their ass. They rob me of my serenity. And I usually end up hurting myself more than anyone else. I even almost lost a finger on the table saw! I still haven't forgiven myself for that one.
??
My mother. It takes too much time, effort, and anger to try and stop her.
??
Me , Myself, and I.
I am unlearning what I learned early in life. I internalized myriad negative messages and then believed the lies and then allowed myself to experience marginalization. Now I am externalizing , exposing, and relinquishing the old messages and converting that energy into a positive force on the planet thru writing, recovery, and telling the truth. Unfortunately, I'm still at the effect of self-harm along the way.
??
This week, God.......
??
My adult children...I force myself to remain open and available to them. I do have firm boundaries about $ and assistance, but that doesn't stop me from hurting watching them struggle. The serenity prayer helps a lot.
??
those i love
??
My roller derby teammates. When they hit me hard I'm happy 'cause I know it makes us both better players. I'm proud of my bruises.
??
After Prop. 8, no one and nothing ever again.
??
Cigarettes, drugs, and easy women
??
people from my past. it's hard to reunite with people who knew very different sides and aspects of you and not let old patterns replay, even though in present time it's kind of, well, gone...
??
My passivity.
??
no one
??
boyfriends
??
Myself more than anyone else. Self sabotage is a dangerous thing!
??
my cat can scratch me and i love her desperately anyway.
??
I try very hard not to let anyone hurt me, but you know what they say about the ones you love and love you!
??
The nurse who zaps my soon-to-be-former tattoo with a Q-switched YAG laser.
That's pretty much it, at least physically.
I'm working on the emotional piece, but sometimes some pain gets through there too.
??
I'm not sure about "letting" anyone hurt me; tho everyone is free to try of they so desire.
??
it's not hurt. it's trying harder than hell not to remember.
??
Oh gosh, it's all about my frame of mind. In a good one, I'm so objective, I take nothing personally, and I worry only about my own feelings and behavior (even when sometimes they need to be pointed out to me in order for me to know them).
In a bad frame of mind, everything's about me, and everyone can hurt me, everyone can trigger a barrage of doubt and self-loathing.
I'm embarrassed that so many years of therapy, sobriety, studying and working in psychology/psychoanalysis/human development/relationships, and I still can't quite figure out what puts me in a bad frame of mind and what puts me in a good one.
??
I'd like to think NO ONE ... but in my heart I know ... anyone who 'wants' to hurt me ... can
??
Me. Sad but true. Not mentally, or in a physical way most might think of, but by sabotaging my own goals on becoming a healthier person. I'm working on it, though, and getting better all the time :-).
??
Too many people. My vulnerability knows no bounds....
??
That which hurts. Trying to protect my true feelings is spiritual suicide.
??
The new, the unknown, the not experienced. Isn't pain a lesson one learns from, not to do that again. Makes me think of a quote by Mark Twain, that I paraphrased:
Paraphrasing Twain
A man who
carries a cat
carries it
by the tail
learns a very
valuable lesson
Chances are
he will carry
nary a cat
that way again
But if he wants to
I say let him
it's not easy
to be eccentric
??
I'm very careful around the people whom I care about so I give them very little opportunity to hurt me, even if I thought they would. My ex-wife has some of that power left but it wains with each passing year and with every argument we have over what to do about kids, etc. And once the boys are legal age, I don't expect to have much communication with her at all. I really don't like her very much any more and that reduces her power to hurt me. My family of origin lives far away and I rarely hear from them and that, in general, hurts me a little. It seems because I moved away to a different place, I have all of the responsibility of keeping in touch. My parents are dead so they have lost the ability to hurt me.
When it comes down to it, I am the one who hurts myself the worst and the most often. I am incredibly hard on myself on a number of levels. I have convinced myself that I am a social loser and that hurts every aspect of my life. I long for things that I fear I will never have and that hurts me. I seem unable to accept myself for what I am, which others may say is a decent sensitive person. But I shun that and so suffer probably the the worst hurt possible at my own hands.
??
And mine...
People with whom I share a lot of love.
??
No one
??
Aw, dudette, I misread that question. I thought you asked "what" i let hurt me. can i have a redo?
"Who do you let hurt you?":
Whoever's in the mirror when I want to hurt myself.
??
people I admire, love or in power with my pay check
??
The A-hole drivers out there, that drive with there heads up their ass. They rob me of my serenity. And I usually end up hurting myself more than anyone else. I even almost lost a finger on the table saw! I still haven't forgiven myself for that one.
??
My mother. It takes too much time, effort, and anger to try and stop her.
??
Me , Myself, and I.
I am unlearning what I learned early in life. I internalized myriad negative messages and then believed the lies and then allowed myself to experience marginalization. Now I am externalizing , exposing, and relinquishing the old messages and converting that energy into a positive force on the planet thru writing, recovery, and telling the truth. Unfortunately, I'm still at the effect of self-harm along the way.
??
This week, God.......
??
My adult children...I force myself to remain open and available to them. I do have firm boundaries about $ and assistance, but that doesn't stop me from hurting watching them struggle. The serenity prayer helps a lot.
??
those i love
??
My roller derby teammates. When they hit me hard I'm happy 'cause I know it makes us both better players. I'm proud of my bruises.
??
After Prop. 8, no one and nothing ever again.
??
Cigarettes, drugs, and easy women
??
people from my past. it's hard to reunite with people who knew very different sides and aspects of you and not let old patterns replay, even though in present time it's kind of, well, gone...
??
My passivity.
??
no one
??
boyfriends
??
Myself more than anyone else. Self sabotage is a dangerous thing!
??
my cat can scratch me and i love her desperately anyway.
??
I try very hard not to let anyone hurt me, but you know what they say about the ones you love and love you!
??
The nurse who zaps my soon-to-be-former tattoo with a Q-switched YAG laser.
That's pretty much it, at least physically.
I'm working on the emotional piece, but sometimes some pain gets through there too.
??
I'm not sure about "letting" anyone hurt me; tho everyone is free to try of they so desire.
??
it's not hurt. it's trying harder than hell not to remember.
??
Oh gosh, it's all about my frame of mind. In a good one, I'm so objective, I take nothing personally, and I worry only about my own feelings and behavior (even when sometimes they need to be pointed out to me in order for me to know them).
In a bad frame of mind, everything's about me, and everyone can hurt me, everyone can trigger a barrage of doubt and self-loathing.
I'm embarrassed that so many years of therapy, sobriety, studying and working in psychology/psychoanalysis/human development/relationships, and I still can't quite figure out what puts me in a bad frame of mind and what puts me in a good one.
??
I'd like to think NO ONE ... but in my heart I know ... anyone who 'wants' to hurt me ... can
??
Me. Sad but true. Not mentally, or in a physical way most might think of, but by sabotaging my own goals on becoming a healthier person. I'm working on it, though, and getting better all the time :-).
??
Too many people. My vulnerability knows no bounds....
??
That which hurts. Trying to protect my true feelings is spiritual suicide.
??
The new, the unknown, the not experienced. Isn't pain a lesson one learns from, not to do that again. Makes me think of a quote by Mark Twain, that I paraphrased:
Paraphrasing Twain
A man who
carries a cat
carries it
by the tail
learns a very
valuable lesson
Chances are
he will carry
nary a cat
that way again
But if he wants to
I say let him
it's not easy
to be eccentric
??
I'm very careful around the people whom I care about so I give them very little opportunity to hurt me, even if I thought they would. My ex-wife has some of that power left but it wains with each passing year and with every argument we have over what to do about kids, etc. And once the boys are legal age, I don't expect to have much communication with her at all. I really don't like her very much any more and that reduces her power to hurt me. My family of origin lives far away and I rarely hear from them and that, in general, hurts me a little. It seems because I moved away to a different place, I have all of the responsibility of keeping in touch. My parents are dead so they have lost the ability to hurt me.
When it comes down to it, I am the one who hurts myself the worst and the most often. I am incredibly hard on myself on a number of levels. I have convinced myself that I am a social loser and that hurts every aspect of my life. I long for things that I fear I will never have and that hurts me. I seem unable to accept myself for what I am, which others may say is a decent sensitive person. But I shun that and so suffer probably the the worst hurt possible at my own hands.
??
And mine...
People with whom I share a lot of love.
What do you hide? (12/1/08)
my hideous consumption of cheddar jack cheez-its
??
the answer of the week...
??
My shame.
??
My true self to people that pay me my pay check
??
i hide hiding
??
My age, My weight, My.....wait a minute; I'll shut up now. I'm in hiding...
??
i don't. i just can't find the right kind of view for whats inside. picture this; your wife is having your first child. suddenly the doctor, a 'scientist', decides that this particular birth isn't necessary relative to his findings. both mother and child die.
now picture having the time capsule that gets you back there, however.
wouldn't you hide that?
??
I hide my self deprivation by surrounding myself with lovely things......lovely fragrances, flowers, artwork, antiques, and lovely foods. While the abundance of lovliness is pleasing, it also colludes with my denial.
??
my comic book collection from my 3 year-old
??
I am quite transparent...albeit selectively. I am careful with whom I share my vulnerabilities. So I guess it's safe to say I hide my insecurities and vulnerabilities from people I don't trust or know well enough to yet confide in. With those close to me, I am slow to admit when depression settles in. The primary characteristic of depression for me today is that I isolate. My communications by email become very clipped. I'm just flat and I lose vigor for life and relationships. I have learned to trudge pretty well, however. And then it gets better (with meds).
??
Unfortunately I think I hide my true inner self from a lot of people. It's a safety thing I guess. Probably pretty common these days. But those I'm closest with, I make the effort to let go and just be there.
??
My ineptitude.
??
On a material level - I inherited my great aunt's engagement ring which has a vvs1 diamond worth about $4400. I treasure it not just because of the value, but because it was given to Aunt Mary by her beloved Harry who was a trumpet player in a swing band. I have this ring well-hidden in my house, although once in awhile I wear it to the local coffeehouse just for goofs. Everyone thinks it's a cubit zirconium.
On a physical level - I have epilepsy, which I very seldom tell people. There is such a stigma against seizure disorders in this country that I have found it's better not to let people know. To tell people is to risk losing jobs, friendships, opportunities of all kinds....
On an emotional level, I hide that I am a survivor of child abuse and neglect. Children of abuse are conditioned by their abusers not to tell anyone what is happening, to keep what is going on a secret no matter what. This conditioning is so intense that it is hard to break, even as an adult. I have also found that society tends to see survivors of abuse as "damaged goods", and I do not wish to be seen that way.
By the way, lest you think my life is depressing...I'm actually very happy and have a great life these days!
??
My fat.
??
10 Health Problems
9 Age
8 Baldness
7 My disorganization
6 Sexual attraction
5 Wisdom
4 Joy
3 Anger
2 Frustration
1 Sadness
??
I couldn't possibly comment
??
My shame
??
Extreme procrastination. It's a source of deep shame and anguish to me, and I can't convey the depths of it to friends and family even if they want to know about it. It doesn't affect my professional life, so it appears that all's well. As long as I work with other people, I know I'll come through.
If it's my personal life, it's another story. It's what it must be like to be a secret alcoholic. I don't have stacks of newspapers completely filling my house, but I seem to have the mental /psychic equivalent of that condition. Everyone I know has some problem with this issue, so I know I'm not unique. But my abuse of it may be. I'm grateful that I'm not looking at this from my rocking chair in a retirement home. I have a new CD out, and it'll force me to take some action.
??
My vulnrability. From God.
And then I don't. And things get better.
??
The cat treats.
??
wouldn't YOU like to know
??
I don't hide anything anymore. I leave it all in the open. If you learn something new, that's good. If you take something, itwasn't really mine to start off with...
??
Too much of my true self. There's a fear that I will be rejected if you knew the "real me." I'm getting better at accepting myself. Working the 12 Steps has helped with that a lot, but the old ideas are deeply ingrained and hard to eradicate. I do find, as I get older, I'm less shy about speaking my mind about some things. However, the basic shyness remains.
??
not much. I am transparent. you can read my emotions on my face. I wear my distress visibly. sometimes I try to hide my addiction, but even that leaks through. I don't have any secrets. even the things I am deeply ashamed of, are known by many. sometimes I feel raw, exposed, vulnerable, like the whole world knows every detail of me.
??
my stomach (I HATE bikinis)
my true feelings, sometimes appropriately, sometimes not
my insecurity and belief that I have failed somehow, some old idea of success in my head
??
If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden! Suffice it to say, I have a rock-solid vault with all sorts of things protected.
??
I had a face lift. It embarrasses me that I am so superficial and vain.
??
My knees
??
in the right company, my misery!
??
The fact that I'm broke. Because I dress well (cheap vintage, real cheap, just bought a skirt for a penny, seriously) people would never know.
??
My love for midget porn
??
The fact that, even at my age, I am not comfortable or very successful around women and I still masturbate a lot.
??
I hide anything that will make me look bad. I could tell you what those are, but then I would have to hurt you.
??
I keep a fair amount of cash (by my standards) inside a book called "The Joy of Signing," so if you break into my apartment, that's what you should look for -- that and my Fender Vibrolux amp, which is behind some suitcases and boxes.
That's all I'll say.
??
And mine...
Used to be my cellulite. But now that so many people compliment me on my butt, and they don't see it, I don't pay much attention.
??
the answer of the week...
??
My shame.
??
My true self to people that pay me my pay check
??
i hide hiding
??
My age, My weight, My.....wait a minute; I'll shut up now. I'm in hiding...
??
i don't. i just can't find the right kind of view for whats inside. picture this; your wife is having your first child. suddenly the doctor, a 'scientist', decides that this particular birth isn't necessary relative to his findings. both mother and child die.
now picture having the time capsule that gets you back there, however.
wouldn't you hide that?
??
I hide my self deprivation by surrounding myself with lovely things......lovely fragrances, flowers, artwork, antiques, and lovely foods. While the abundance of lovliness is pleasing, it also colludes with my denial.
??
my comic book collection from my 3 year-old
??
I am quite transparent...albeit selectively. I am careful with whom I share my vulnerabilities. So I guess it's safe to say I hide my insecurities and vulnerabilities from people I don't trust or know well enough to yet confide in. With those close to me, I am slow to admit when depression settles in. The primary characteristic of depression for me today is that I isolate. My communications by email become very clipped. I'm just flat and I lose vigor for life and relationships. I have learned to trudge pretty well, however. And then it gets better (with meds).
??
Unfortunately I think I hide my true inner self from a lot of people. It's a safety thing I guess. Probably pretty common these days. But those I'm closest with, I make the effort to let go and just be there.
??
My ineptitude.
??
On a material level - I inherited my great aunt's engagement ring which has a vvs1 diamond worth about $4400. I treasure it not just because of the value, but because it was given to Aunt Mary by her beloved Harry who was a trumpet player in a swing band. I have this ring well-hidden in my house, although once in awhile I wear it to the local coffeehouse just for goofs. Everyone thinks it's a cubit zirconium.
On a physical level - I have epilepsy, which I very seldom tell people. There is such a stigma against seizure disorders in this country that I have found it's better not to let people know. To tell people is to risk losing jobs, friendships, opportunities of all kinds....
On an emotional level, I hide that I am a survivor of child abuse and neglect. Children of abuse are conditioned by their abusers not to tell anyone what is happening, to keep what is going on a secret no matter what. This conditioning is so intense that it is hard to break, even as an adult. I have also found that society tends to see survivors of abuse as "damaged goods", and I do not wish to be seen that way.
By the way, lest you think my life is depressing...I'm actually very happy and have a great life these days!
??
My fat.
??
10 Health Problems
9 Age
8 Baldness
7 My disorganization
6 Sexual attraction
5 Wisdom
4 Joy
3 Anger
2 Frustration
1 Sadness
??
I couldn't possibly comment
??
My shame
??
Extreme procrastination. It's a source of deep shame and anguish to me, and I can't convey the depths of it to friends and family even if they want to know about it. It doesn't affect my professional life, so it appears that all's well. As long as I work with other people, I know I'll come through.
If it's my personal life, it's another story. It's what it must be like to be a secret alcoholic. I don't have stacks of newspapers completely filling my house, but I seem to have the mental /psychic equivalent of that condition. Everyone I know has some problem with this issue, so I know I'm not unique. But my abuse of it may be. I'm grateful that I'm not looking at this from my rocking chair in a retirement home. I have a new CD out, and it'll force me to take some action.
??
My vulnrability. From God.
And then I don't. And things get better.
??
The cat treats.
??
wouldn't YOU like to know
??
I don't hide anything anymore. I leave it all in the open. If you learn something new, that's good. If you take something, itwasn't really mine to start off with...
??
Too much of my true self. There's a fear that I will be rejected if you knew the "real me." I'm getting better at accepting myself. Working the 12 Steps has helped with that a lot, but the old ideas are deeply ingrained and hard to eradicate. I do find, as I get older, I'm less shy about speaking my mind about some things. However, the basic shyness remains.
??
not much. I am transparent. you can read my emotions on my face. I wear my distress visibly. sometimes I try to hide my addiction, but even that leaks through. I don't have any secrets. even the things I am deeply ashamed of, are known by many. sometimes I feel raw, exposed, vulnerable, like the whole world knows every detail of me.
??
my stomach (I HATE bikinis)
my true feelings, sometimes appropriately, sometimes not
my insecurity and belief that I have failed somehow, some old idea of success in my head
??
If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden! Suffice it to say, I have a rock-solid vault with all sorts of things protected.
??
I had a face lift. It embarrasses me that I am so superficial and vain.
??
My knees
??
in the right company, my misery!
??
The fact that I'm broke. Because I dress well (cheap vintage, real cheap, just bought a skirt for a penny, seriously) people would never know.
??
My love for midget porn
??
The fact that, even at my age, I am not comfortable or very successful around women and I still masturbate a lot.
??
I hide anything that will make me look bad. I could tell you what those are, but then I would have to hurt you.
??
I keep a fair amount of cash (by my standards) inside a book called "The Joy of Signing," so if you break into my apartment, that's what you should look for -- that and my Fender Vibrolux amp, which is behind some suitcases and boxes.
That's all I'll say.
??
And mine...
Used to be my cellulite. But now that so many people compliment me on my butt, and they don't see it, I don't pay much attention.
What makes someone credible? (11/23/08)
Deeds.
??
Harvard.
??
honesty - within themselves.
??
A history of truth-telling and body language.
??
Someone is credible when their words match their actions. In professional life, education, experience, and training are also important elements to credibility. I wanna know you've walked the walk. Credibility is bolstered by healthy curiosity, asking for clarification, and not simply pontificating. Time in the saddle helps, too. Anyone can be an "instant expert" thanks to the internet. So...time, consistency, and demonstrable knowledge are all important aspects of credibility.
??
Look at them in the eyes.
??
Honesty. And kindness.
??
Excellent common sense
Compassion
Good intention
Big picture thinker
A good mind
??
NO lies and a big heart
??
Integrity of character.
??
What makes someone credible? ... their actions ... what they do and how they do it ... and the consistency with which those actions occur. Credibility comes with time intermixed with continuous displays of consistent actions ... that creates trustworthiness. If all these are consistent with ones intentions ... that person is credible to you.
??
a firm handshake and eye contact.
??
by the actions they demonstrate. one has credibility by demonstrating their word. show me, don't tell me is my philosophy.......and i'll strive to do the same.
??
Bright red lipstick, a happy-happy right-wing attitude, and $150,000 duds from Nemian Marcus and Saks.
Oh wait, that only made the Sarah Palin phenonemen all the more incredible. It didn't add one iota to her credibility.
How about this: humility.
??
True transparency. S/he who has nothing to hide hides nothing.
??
Follow-through. I go by what a person does, not by what they say
??
To gain credibility one must be consistently trust worthy (to trust is to follow through on one's word, to be honest and live life with a sense of integrity which requires an awareness of self and as a result the awareness of actions effecting the relation to others in society.) and secondly, a person has credibility with me if the person is an expert in the Field of a subject. Usually a person with this credibility has the following characteristics which earns my respect: he/she is completely devoted almost like a purists to his/her Field of study/subject/interest. All other interests are a distant second. The person remains teachable with in his/her Field, always open to new information. ex. Like a music writer/critic. who's whole life is devoted to the cultivation of music in every genre, every Field, and the writer's life from the moment the writer was mature enough to understand music had been devoted to the subject of sound and what makes sound produce harmony. He knows every name, every movement, every historical detail both insignificant and profound, he is constantly moving with the times always teachable and open to the flow of sound and it's producers, instruments, vessels and creators, the writer has music down to a science and as a scientist never fully draws a conclusion but offers up evidence for the reader to consider while they make their own hypothesis. if some thing is classic it becomes law to him, he uses his doubt to learn and trace his research objectively and artistically until his piece is molded into gold from hard trial and error and also from sourcing crucial yet vast amounts of information ( following keenly the subject with the air of a person who's reputation and career dependent upon it) for the evidence to his artful conclusion. The most crucial component to the writer's career is his credibility.
Credibility can be fluid. One can be credited with being uncreditable. Every person who's lived long enough to have ownership over baggagge has credibility in some thing. How does your society trust you? What does your society trust you with? What does your people believe about you the way they have faith that the sun will rise again tomorrow?
??
The past is always a good indicator of the future.
??
1. Looking like they care about their appearance.
2. Acting with confidence -- steady eye contact, easy smile, firm handshake.
These things are superficial, but I think they contribute more to credibility than anything of substance, at least with initial impressions.
??
When a person is telling you something that you don't want to hear, it's probably true; it means they're not just another bullshitter feeding you the candy everyone supposedly wants. On the other hand, if someone is raising their voice and passionately lecturing on something, I often imagine that their words are true, but mostly for themselves, so they should just be talking to a mirror instead. Lately I've been noticing that people I initially thought were weird were really pretty cool and they struck me that way because they're very different and have broken out of the mold. They're credible, but only if you let them be themselves and don't project the "shoulds" onto them. I think the most important thing about "credibility" is to realize that everyone has their own way.
Like most amazing things
It's easy to miss and easy to mistake
For when things are really great
It just means everything's in its place
??
Their own personal state of sanity.
??
consistency
??
Being consistent, fair, reasonable, and acting with a slice of empathy. Oh, yeah, don't lie. Ever.
It's kind of ironic that the question this week asks about credibility. My boyfriend was just accused at work of being dishonest - his manager told him that he has "no confidence in [my boyfriend's] honesty." Boyfriend is devastated. He does everything by the book and makes no exceptions.
??
Rigorous honesty, even when it's uncomfortable, unpopular, or dangerous. Someone who is true to their word. Someone who is knowledgeable and well informed, and doesn't pretend to know if they don't.
??
For me personally, no one is credible unless I have known them for a long time and found them to be an honest and level-headed person. Things that point to a credible person for me are: someone who does not exaggerate situations, who does what they promise to do, who is honest and up front about situations, who has some knowledge or area of expertise that they are not rigid or dogmatic about. With that said, I depend a lot on my heart and my gut to tell me if someone is credible....
??
when there's no more juxtapositioning general opinions surrounding said person via others
??
Their heart and their willingness to adapt
??
their actions. consistency in words and action.
??
credible: offering reasonable grounds for being believed.
Since I rarely believe anything I'm told (or these days, any picture I see) the only thing that supports credibility is my own independent research. It I do accept something at face value, it's probably because it is not important enough to me to investigate and appears to have minimal, if any, impact on my life. If someone tells me it does impact my life and I have enough respect for said person's opinion, then I will most likely investigate enough to see what the situation is.
??
multiple moments of integrity.
??
If I believe them!
??
And mine...
I usually use my instincts to discern credibility.
??
Harvard.
??
honesty - within themselves.
??
A history of truth-telling and body language.
??
Someone is credible when their words match their actions. In professional life, education, experience, and training are also important elements to credibility. I wanna know you've walked the walk. Credibility is bolstered by healthy curiosity, asking for clarification, and not simply pontificating. Time in the saddle helps, too. Anyone can be an "instant expert" thanks to the internet. So...time, consistency, and demonstrable knowledge are all important aspects of credibility.
??
Look at them in the eyes.
??
Honesty. And kindness.
??
Excellent common sense
Compassion
Good intention
Big picture thinker
A good mind
??
NO lies and a big heart
??
Integrity of character.
??
What makes someone credible? ... their actions ... what they do and how they do it ... and the consistency with which those actions occur. Credibility comes with time intermixed with continuous displays of consistent actions ... that creates trustworthiness. If all these are consistent with ones intentions ... that person is credible to you.
??
a firm handshake and eye contact.
??
by the actions they demonstrate. one has credibility by demonstrating their word. show me, don't tell me is my philosophy.......and i'll strive to do the same.
??
Bright red lipstick, a happy-happy right-wing attitude, and $150,000 duds from Nemian Marcus and Saks.
Oh wait, that only made the Sarah Palin phenonemen all the more incredible. It didn't add one iota to her credibility.
How about this: humility.
??
True transparency. S/he who has nothing to hide hides nothing.
??
Follow-through. I go by what a person does, not by what they say
??
To gain credibility one must be consistently trust worthy (to trust is to follow through on one's word, to be honest and live life with a sense of integrity which requires an awareness of self and as a result the awareness of actions effecting the relation to others in society.) and secondly, a person has credibility with me if the person is an expert in the Field of a subject. Usually a person with this credibility has the following characteristics which earns my respect: he/she is completely devoted almost like a purists to his/her Field of study/subject/interest. All other interests are a distant second. The person remains teachable with in his/her Field, always open to new information. ex. Like a music writer/critic. who's whole life is devoted to the cultivation of music in every genre, every Field, and the writer's life from the moment the writer was mature enough to understand music had been devoted to the subject of sound and what makes sound produce harmony. He knows every name, every movement, every historical detail both insignificant and profound, he is constantly moving with the times always teachable and open to the flow of sound and it's producers, instruments, vessels and creators, the writer has music down to a science and as a scientist never fully draws a conclusion but offers up evidence for the reader to consider while they make their own hypothesis. if some thing is classic it becomes law to him, he uses his doubt to learn and trace his research objectively and artistically until his piece is molded into gold from hard trial and error and also from sourcing crucial yet vast amounts of information ( following keenly the subject with the air of a person who's reputation and career dependent upon it) for the evidence to his artful conclusion. The most crucial component to the writer's career is his credibility.
Credibility can be fluid. One can be credited with being uncreditable. Every person who's lived long enough to have ownership over baggagge has credibility in some thing. How does your society trust you? What does your society trust you with? What does your people believe about you the way they have faith that the sun will rise again tomorrow?
??
The past is always a good indicator of the future.
??
1. Looking like they care about their appearance.
2. Acting with confidence -- steady eye contact, easy smile, firm handshake.
These things are superficial, but I think they contribute more to credibility than anything of substance, at least with initial impressions.
??
When a person is telling you something that you don't want to hear, it's probably true; it means they're not just another bullshitter feeding you the candy everyone supposedly wants. On the other hand, if someone is raising their voice and passionately lecturing on something, I often imagine that their words are true, but mostly for themselves, so they should just be talking to a mirror instead. Lately I've been noticing that people I initially thought were weird were really pretty cool and they struck me that way because they're very different and have broken out of the mold. They're credible, but only if you let them be themselves and don't project the "shoulds" onto them. I think the most important thing about "credibility" is to realize that everyone has their own way.
Like most amazing things
It's easy to miss and easy to mistake
For when things are really great
It just means everything's in its place
??
Their own personal state of sanity.
??
consistency
??
Being consistent, fair, reasonable, and acting with a slice of empathy. Oh, yeah, don't lie. Ever.
It's kind of ironic that the question this week asks about credibility. My boyfriend was just accused at work of being dishonest - his manager told him that he has "no confidence in [my boyfriend's] honesty." Boyfriend is devastated. He does everything by the book and makes no exceptions.
??
Rigorous honesty, even when it's uncomfortable, unpopular, or dangerous. Someone who is true to their word. Someone who is knowledgeable and well informed, and doesn't pretend to know if they don't.
??
For me personally, no one is credible unless I have known them for a long time and found them to be an honest and level-headed person. Things that point to a credible person for me are: someone who does not exaggerate situations, who does what they promise to do, who is honest and up front about situations, who has some knowledge or area of expertise that they are not rigid or dogmatic about. With that said, I depend a lot on my heart and my gut to tell me if someone is credible....
??
when there's no more juxtapositioning general opinions surrounding said person via others
??
Their heart and their willingness to adapt
??
their actions. consistency in words and action.
??
credible: offering reasonable grounds for being believed.
Since I rarely believe anything I'm told (or these days, any picture I see) the only thing that supports credibility is my own independent research. It I do accept something at face value, it's probably because it is not important enough to me to investigate and appears to have minimal, if any, impact on my life. If someone tells me it does impact my life and I have enough respect for said person's opinion, then I will most likely investigate enough to see what the situation is.
??
multiple moments of integrity.
??
If I believe them!
??
And mine...
I usually use my instincts to discern credibility.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Who do you protect? (11/16/08)
I believe in deep deep surrender and deep deep love.
Protection is the root of the problem.
I will support EVERYONE I love. But I will not protect them.
Ok, if a meteor was coming to hit my step sister, I'd push her out of the way.
Or if a bus was going to hit my mother, I'd... well, probably push her out of the way.
And, ok, if people are being jerks to my friends or family, I will step in and say something.
But a LOT of the time, I think "protection" is a subtle form of codependency.
It is not my job to stop someone else's growth process by "protecting" them from it.
In the Sufi way, they say "What's IN the way IS the way." And I believe it.
But perhaps I misunderstand the question.
Peace and blessings...
??
My privacy. Which is silly, cuz I usually blurt out everything compulsively.
??
My cat.
??
A daddys gurl turned in2 a boy. this boy is starting 2 bcome a man. the man will hopefully b a good father.
=findin common ground
??
I protect myself and my boundries daily via prayers for angel protection; one of the things I ask for is to be kept safe from internal and external harm. I also protect others including friends and family via prayer. ultimately, god/ goddess/ universe is the great protector.....but I do ask that my prayers and practice be of benefit to all beings.
??
the ones who need it most
??
I am very protective over my dogs......very are very protective to me, so where even.
??
anyone who lives authentically, door to door. they are the only ones in danger of the world. as fact, danger of leaving the world for the larger pastures. i wish we could all protect this between us. but how do you protect something and set it free at the same time? i protect the little rat inside of me called Jesus.
??
My sister ... my nieces/nephews ... my friends ... and most of all, my Yorkies and myself.
??
No one, nothing comes to mind. I care for people and things...but "protect" seems an overstatement. I guess I protect my grandbabies from the risks of gravity and ingestion. I try to prepare my step-son for the emotional rigors of middle school. My two adult sons...I can't seem to do anything to protect them from themselves. Kinda like watching a slow motion train wreck sometimes....I don't like it, but I've learned to keep my counsel until they ask for it. I find in trying to "protect" people it's usually from themselves and they usually end up resenting any "help" and villifying or blaming the helper. I had a German Shepherd for 13 years. Now SHE knew how to protect people. I'll leave protecting to the experts.
??
My daughter and husband.
??
Myself, sometime wisely, sometimes not so wisely.
??
my family
newcomers
??
I am extremely protective of all those close to me whom I love. This can present a problem of feeling completely useless when something awful happens to someone that you are very close with. This summer I lost a very good friend and room mate in a complete "accident". He was hit by a car while jogging a few blocks from our house. He was taken from me, his family, his dreams, his hopes, his life, and there was nothing I could have done to protect him. It really is screwed up to love someone so much and feel worthless when they are caused harm. What is the use of love so deep if it can't protect them from harm.
"the gods who role the dice,
their hearts as cold as ice -
and someone way down here
loses someone dear...."
??
I protect my love, my friends, my family, my privacy, and my rights!
??
anonymity
??
The Runnicles!
??
I had to think about this one. I don't protect myself these days very much: I leave that to my Lord. I am improving my self-protection skills, with is help, every day. I'd love to say I protect my friends from my sharper edges and rougher corners, but I have to give that to my Lord as well :-)
??
In the end I protect my two boys the most. Sometimes I think too much. It's the hardest part of being a parent... being willing to let your children make their own mistakes. One thinks they can prevent their offspring from making all the bad choices they made in life and, yet, those choices look different now. They are not easily recognized by someone who grew up a generation ago. I think I'm a pretty hip guy, I keep up with modern culture and fashionable trends on a number of levels. But the whole underculture is something that remains more or less invisible to me, much as it was to my parents who, for the most part, didn't have a clue what I was really up to.
What this all adds up to is the fact that I have to teach them the art of making choices and then open the door and let them go their own way, which they will, one way or another. It brings into hard relief the truth that, in order to protect them, I must be willing to set them free.
??
"Whom" do I protect? All the world from bad grammar!
??
And mine...
Babies, children, dogs...the vulnerable, the open. If not in act, in prayer.
Protection is the root of the problem.
I will support EVERYONE I love. But I will not protect them.
Ok, if a meteor was coming to hit my step sister, I'd push her out of the way.
Or if a bus was going to hit my mother, I'd... well, probably push her out of the way.
And, ok, if people are being jerks to my friends or family, I will step in and say something.
But a LOT of the time, I think "protection" is a subtle form of codependency.
It is not my job to stop someone else's growth process by "protecting" them from it.
In the Sufi way, they say "What's IN the way IS the way." And I believe it.
But perhaps I misunderstand the question.
Peace and blessings...
??
My privacy. Which is silly, cuz I usually blurt out everything compulsively.
??
My cat.
??
A daddys gurl turned in2 a boy. this boy is starting 2 bcome a man. the man will hopefully b a good father.
=findin common ground
??
I protect myself and my boundries daily via prayers for angel protection; one of the things I ask for is to be kept safe from internal and external harm. I also protect others including friends and family via prayer. ultimately, god/ goddess/ universe is the great protector.....but I do ask that my prayers and practice be of benefit to all beings.
??
the ones who need it most
??
I am very protective over my dogs......very are very protective to me, so where even.
??
anyone who lives authentically, door to door. they are the only ones in danger of the world. as fact, danger of leaving the world for the larger pastures. i wish we could all protect this between us. but how do you protect something and set it free at the same time? i protect the little rat inside of me called Jesus.
??
My sister ... my nieces/nephews ... my friends ... and most of all, my Yorkies and myself.
??
No one, nothing comes to mind. I care for people and things...but "protect" seems an overstatement. I guess I protect my grandbabies from the risks of gravity and ingestion. I try to prepare my step-son for the emotional rigors of middle school. My two adult sons...I can't seem to do anything to protect them from themselves. Kinda like watching a slow motion train wreck sometimes....I don't like it, but I've learned to keep my counsel until they ask for it. I find in trying to "protect" people it's usually from themselves and they usually end up resenting any "help" and villifying or blaming the helper. I had a German Shepherd for 13 years. Now SHE knew how to protect people. I'll leave protecting to the experts.
??
My daughter and husband.
??
Myself, sometime wisely, sometimes not so wisely.
??
my family
newcomers
??
I am extremely protective of all those close to me whom I love. This can present a problem of feeling completely useless when something awful happens to someone that you are very close with. This summer I lost a very good friend and room mate in a complete "accident". He was hit by a car while jogging a few blocks from our house. He was taken from me, his family, his dreams, his hopes, his life, and there was nothing I could have done to protect him. It really is screwed up to love someone so much and feel worthless when they are caused harm. What is the use of love so deep if it can't protect them from harm.
"the gods who role the dice,
their hearts as cold as ice -
and someone way down here
loses someone dear...."
??
I protect my love, my friends, my family, my privacy, and my rights!
??
anonymity
??
The Runnicles!
??
I had to think about this one. I don't protect myself these days very much: I leave that to my Lord. I am improving my self-protection skills, with is help, every day. I'd love to say I protect my friends from my sharper edges and rougher corners, but I have to give that to my Lord as well :-)
??
In the end I protect my two boys the most. Sometimes I think too much. It's the hardest part of being a parent... being willing to let your children make their own mistakes. One thinks they can prevent their offspring from making all the bad choices they made in life and, yet, those choices look different now. They are not easily recognized by someone who grew up a generation ago. I think I'm a pretty hip guy, I keep up with modern culture and fashionable trends on a number of levels. But the whole underculture is something that remains more or less invisible to me, much as it was to my parents who, for the most part, didn't have a clue what I was really up to.
What this all adds up to is the fact that I have to teach them the art of making choices and then open the door and let them go their own way, which they will, one way or another. It brings into hard relief the truth that, in order to protect them, I must be willing to set them free.
??
"Whom" do I protect? All the world from bad grammar!
??
And mine...
Babies, children, dogs...the vulnerable, the open. If not in act, in prayer.
Tell me a story... (11/10/08)
once upon a time, and then and then and then... until the end (and then i guess i am a better listener than teller is what we just learned)
??
My mother had an affair for 10 years with a married man, a handsome, rugged dock-worker with broad shoulders and a beautiful smile. They were still involved when she died of a sudden heart attack at the too-young age of 43. He came to the wake with his wife and six of his eight children. When my four siblings and I saw him, we burst into tears, my older sister sobbing in his arms. At that moment the whole room full of my mother's grieving family and friends figured out what had been going on. Or perhaps they'd known all along.
??
This all happened on Cyprus, at the end of July:
Ballad of the Goddess of Paphos
Came to the desert near the sapphire sea
And hills of asphodel
There we heard the taut gut ring
Upon the wooden bell
And old women wail the Cyprian girl
Who rode the oyster shell
But little grey lizards reigned in the ruin
Of her temple on the hill
Grey as these dust shroud stainéd stumps
Grey as this Paphian air
Grey as the ash heap of Adonis’ pyre
Grey as the memory of Myrrha
And we stood in dust before broken stones
Where Cinyras once was throned
With a pomegranate rotting at our feet
And dogs fighting over bones
We’d come there to worship the oyster girl
With obsidian in her hair
But all that we found was the memory of lies
Even the blue sea was bare
But then we climbed into the hills
Above the sapphire seas
Climbed through silver olives twinkling
And dangling carob seeds
Climbed through pomegranate groves
To find the sacred prayer
Climbed through fields of summer grass
As copper as her hair
And when we found the secret stair
We tumbled to a spring
Beneath the twist of ancient fig
Where the old women sing
And genuflect and bless themselves
And dip bony fingers in
The water from an old stone bowl
Forever bubbling
And old men came with jugs and jars
To fill them at the well
So revive passions with draughts of love
For the foam born Celestial
Then innocents danced the shaded stair
Passion blind and writhing
Amid doves moaning cicadas crying
And their own blood's groaning
And they ran to the old green bowl
To drown in passion's water
And wash themselves in tears of love
Tears of the blue sea’s daughter
Then hush as floating down the stair
The goddess Aphrodite
In her boa of sheer pink foam
And oyster shell bikini
With bald gold-chained pot-bellied Hephaestus
And three white Pomeranians
Dancing in circles and skipping like kids
And whining like spoiled children
We found the Goddess alive and well
Beside the wild asphodel
The myth we sought was in the flowers
And its making always ours
??
Once upon a time there was a rebellious nation who (though shockingly imperfect in their own conduct) fought desperately for their independence. This nation had a great belief in freedom and held it in the highest regard. This nation protected each individual's right (again, quite imperfectly) to their own beliefs and values.
The founders of this nation believed that freedom was worth risking life and limb. They believed that if their ruler was not upholding freedom and justice, that it was up to each person to protest. They would take to the streets to defend their vision of freedom.
Somewhere along the line, after decades of rulers who were dishonest at best, murderers at worst, the nation started to fall into indifference. As this nation's freedoms and equalities disappeared one by one, its citizens started to believe that freedom was a hopeless cause.
The citizens of the nation truly believed that nothing could be done to change the future and that they were destined to be ruled by people who did not hold their beliefs and wishes sacred. This nation had forgotten its original ideals and began to overflow with cynicism and apathy. It had given up hope.
It was at just this time that a great leader appeared. He was strong, balanced, saw the reality of the nation's problems clearly, but also had a vision for the future. This leader showed the struggling nation that black and white thinking was not a viable option, that things could change for the better, and there was indeed hope for our future.
The nation seized the opportunity to NOT rest into the easy comfort of "the devil we know," to reach out for this leader and more importantly, what his presence at this precise time represented, something completely new and long forgotten - freedom.
A joyous outcome, true, yet the future of the nation remains to be seen. Though its citizens magnificently arose to greet the dawn of a new era of freedom, if things do not fall into their preconceived notions of great leader and great nation, will they fall back into hatred and indifference?
Let us all rise up to greet this new era of freedom. Let us shout equality from the rooftops and not let our leaders forget that they are defending our very lives. Let us take this opportunity to never go back to cynicism and apathy, but to seize the rising sun of freedom, shine brilliantly with hope - and take action!
??
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Serena*. She had several brothers and sisters, and her parents worked very hard to feed and clothe such a large family. Serena was the oldest of the girls, and helped her mother a lot with the cooking, cleaning, and child care. Serena was very bright and did well in school. She also loved music and learned to play the piano. People often heard her singing as she went about her daily chores; she loved to sing and had a beautiful voice. However, Serena was very shy and had a difficult time making friends. It took her a long time to form friendships. When Serena grew up and went to college, she no longer lived at home with her family. She HAD to learn to make friends - or be very solitary. She learned how to break out of her shyness, little by little. She eventually learned that a drink at parties made it much easier to dance and talk and have fun. Unfortunately for Serena, that drink turned into many, many drinks. She and her friends would go to the opera and symphony, but they always had a drink or two during the intermissions. Serena almost always nodded off during the final act. Drinking became a necessary evil in Serena's life. Eventually the friendships faded and she drank alone at home every night. So sad. One day Serena "hit bottom" with her drinking and ended up in a 28-day spin-dry place. She learned that drinking was only a cover-up of many things she didn't want to face. She learned to face those issues and to deal with them. She is productive at work during the day and seldom home in the evenings. Life is now full of joy and friends and service. Serena had to travel down a dark path to find the light. *Name changed intentionally.
??
Once upon a time, there was a little black girl growing up in the Brewster Project of Detroit, Michegan. At age 15 she was spotted by an Ebony/Fashion Fair talent scout and her modeling career took off. She traveled the world wearing the finest designers. Pucci, Gucci, and Florucci.
??
Life Story in 5 words:
genius poet went for laughs.
??
That's not really a question, is it?
Anyhow...Once upon a time there were three little girls who went to the Police Academy. And they were each assigned very hazardous duties. But I took them away from all that and now they work for me. My name is Charlie...
??
once up, on a time
i did something
something happened
the something kept happening
i waited and waited to do something again
but i knew that i shouldn't
until i could
so i did
while i waited
i watched
what i had done wasn't what was happening
it thought it was god
i knew it wasn't
but i loved it so i didn't want to ruin it
until it almost did
so i did first
that's the second thing i did
i didn't ruin it
i just wait until it stops
it does
it doesn't want to
it still thinks it's god
though it knows it isn't
then i stopped a bullet from entering into my head
and spent two months enjoying the solace
of creating the very chess match i had to 'lose'
knowing that i would only win
the third thing i do is up to all of you
??
"HI Heather," the voice said. It was high-pitched and hinted of excitement,young and earnest, a note so many have forgotten. Heather looked up from her book, smiled and waved. The door was open to her shop and would be for a few more hours. No one was inside. The voice ... well, it belonged to a young boy who was gripping his mother's hand, about to be led up past a gate, up the stairs and into his home.
Home. Where he would read about magical lands suffused with dragons and knights and maidens and superheroes, enraptured by their daring deeds.
Work. Where Heather was, immersing herself in a tale from outer space, a tale set in the future, feeling nothing like the present. Lights shone outside - and in - but closer to earth than the words on the page. She flipped and turned the pages as the hours went by ...
The boy's head hit the pillow first. Later in the night went Heather's. They both dreamed contently.
Tomorrow came, as it's wont to do. Heather and the boy walked towards each other on the street. Hellos were exchanged. And then they stopped - the boy resisting his mother's pull, Heather fighting the ticking clock on her wrist. The boy saw Heather garbed in silver, holding a lance. Heather noticed the boy was garbed in a spacesuit, looking to the heavens. For a moment, time froze. They smiled at each other.
And then they went on their way.
??
A boy was given to the wrong parents (whether intentionally or by accident isn't verifiable). He thereby was deprived of the trappings, adventures, and experience ordained by the pedigree rooted in his DNA. Instead he led a perplexing then simple life. It was the best thing for everybody.
??
And mine...
I'm hearing so many wonderful stories right now, I can't pick just one.
Except:
Once upon a time things were very different and I never thought they'd change. Then they did change.
??
My mother had an affair for 10 years with a married man, a handsome, rugged dock-worker with broad shoulders and a beautiful smile. They were still involved when she died of a sudden heart attack at the too-young age of 43. He came to the wake with his wife and six of his eight children. When my four siblings and I saw him, we burst into tears, my older sister sobbing in his arms. At that moment the whole room full of my mother's grieving family and friends figured out what had been going on. Or perhaps they'd known all along.
??
This all happened on Cyprus, at the end of July:
Ballad of the Goddess of Paphos
Came to the desert near the sapphire sea
And hills of asphodel
There we heard the taut gut ring
Upon the wooden bell
And old women wail the Cyprian girl
Who rode the oyster shell
But little grey lizards reigned in the ruin
Of her temple on the hill
Grey as these dust shroud stainéd stumps
Grey as this Paphian air
Grey as the ash heap of Adonis’ pyre
Grey as the memory of Myrrha
And we stood in dust before broken stones
Where Cinyras once was throned
With a pomegranate rotting at our feet
And dogs fighting over bones
We’d come there to worship the oyster girl
With obsidian in her hair
But all that we found was the memory of lies
Even the blue sea was bare
But then we climbed into the hills
Above the sapphire seas
Climbed through silver olives twinkling
And dangling carob seeds
Climbed through pomegranate groves
To find the sacred prayer
Climbed through fields of summer grass
As copper as her hair
And when we found the secret stair
We tumbled to a spring
Beneath the twist of ancient fig
Where the old women sing
And genuflect and bless themselves
And dip bony fingers in
The water from an old stone bowl
Forever bubbling
And old men came with jugs and jars
To fill them at the well
So revive passions with draughts of love
For the foam born Celestial
Then innocents danced the shaded stair
Passion blind and writhing
Amid doves moaning cicadas crying
And their own blood's groaning
And they ran to the old green bowl
To drown in passion's water
And wash themselves in tears of love
Tears of the blue sea’s daughter
Then hush as floating down the stair
The goddess Aphrodite
In her boa of sheer pink foam
And oyster shell bikini
With bald gold-chained pot-bellied Hephaestus
And three white Pomeranians
Dancing in circles and skipping like kids
And whining like spoiled children
We found the Goddess alive and well
Beside the wild asphodel
The myth we sought was in the flowers
And its making always ours
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Once upon a time there was a rebellious nation who (though shockingly imperfect in their own conduct) fought desperately for their independence. This nation had a great belief in freedom and held it in the highest regard. This nation protected each individual's right (again, quite imperfectly) to their own beliefs and values.
The founders of this nation believed that freedom was worth risking life and limb. They believed that if their ruler was not upholding freedom and justice, that it was up to each person to protest. They would take to the streets to defend their vision of freedom.
Somewhere along the line, after decades of rulers who were dishonest at best, murderers at worst, the nation started to fall into indifference. As this nation's freedoms and equalities disappeared one by one, its citizens started to believe that freedom was a hopeless cause.
The citizens of the nation truly believed that nothing could be done to change the future and that they were destined to be ruled by people who did not hold their beliefs and wishes sacred. This nation had forgotten its original ideals and began to overflow with cynicism and apathy. It had given up hope.
It was at just this time that a great leader appeared. He was strong, balanced, saw the reality of the nation's problems clearly, but also had a vision for the future. This leader showed the struggling nation that black and white thinking was not a viable option, that things could change for the better, and there was indeed hope for our future.
The nation seized the opportunity to NOT rest into the easy comfort of "the devil we know," to reach out for this leader and more importantly, what his presence at this precise time represented, something completely new and long forgotten - freedom.
A joyous outcome, true, yet the future of the nation remains to be seen. Though its citizens magnificently arose to greet the dawn of a new era of freedom, if things do not fall into their preconceived notions of great leader and great nation, will they fall back into hatred and indifference?
Let us all rise up to greet this new era of freedom. Let us shout equality from the rooftops and not let our leaders forget that they are defending our very lives. Let us take this opportunity to never go back to cynicism and apathy, but to seize the rising sun of freedom, shine brilliantly with hope - and take action!
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Once upon a time there was a little girl named Serena*. She had several brothers and sisters, and her parents worked very hard to feed and clothe such a large family. Serena was the oldest of the girls, and helped her mother a lot with the cooking, cleaning, and child care. Serena was very bright and did well in school. She also loved music and learned to play the piano. People often heard her singing as she went about her daily chores; she loved to sing and had a beautiful voice. However, Serena was very shy and had a difficult time making friends. It took her a long time to form friendships. When Serena grew up and went to college, she no longer lived at home with her family. She HAD to learn to make friends - or be very solitary. She learned how to break out of her shyness, little by little. She eventually learned that a drink at parties made it much easier to dance and talk and have fun. Unfortunately for Serena, that drink turned into many, many drinks. She and her friends would go to the opera and symphony, but they always had a drink or two during the intermissions. Serena almost always nodded off during the final act. Drinking became a necessary evil in Serena's life. Eventually the friendships faded and she drank alone at home every night. So sad. One day Serena "hit bottom" with her drinking and ended up in a 28-day spin-dry place. She learned that drinking was only a cover-up of many things she didn't want to face. She learned to face those issues and to deal with them. She is productive at work during the day and seldom home in the evenings. Life is now full of joy and friends and service. Serena had to travel down a dark path to find the light. *Name changed intentionally.
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Once upon a time, there was a little black girl growing up in the Brewster Project of Detroit, Michegan. At age 15 she was spotted by an Ebony/Fashion Fair talent scout and her modeling career took off. She traveled the world wearing the finest designers. Pucci, Gucci, and Florucci.
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Life Story in 5 words:
genius poet went for laughs.
??
That's not really a question, is it?
Anyhow...Once upon a time there were three little girls who went to the Police Academy. And they were each assigned very hazardous duties. But I took them away from all that and now they work for me. My name is Charlie...
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once up, on a time
i did something
something happened
the something kept happening
i waited and waited to do something again
but i knew that i shouldn't
until i could
so i did
while i waited
i watched
what i had done wasn't what was happening
it thought it was god
i knew it wasn't
but i loved it so i didn't want to ruin it
until it almost did
so i did first
that's the second thing i did
i didn't ruin it
i just wait until it stops
it does
it doesn't want to
it still thinks it's god
though it knows it isn't
then i stopped a bullet from entering into my head
and spent two months enjoying the solace
of creating the very chess match i had to 'lose'
knowing that i would only win
the third thing i do is up to all of you
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"HI Heather," the voice said. It was high-pitched and hinted of excitement,young and earnest, a note so many have forgotten. Heather looked up from her book, smiled and waved. The door was open to her shop and would be for a few more hours. No one was inside. The voice ... well, it belonged to a young boy who was gripping his mother's hand, about to be led up past a gate, up the stairs and into his home.
Home. Where he would read about magical lands suffused with dragons and knights and maidens and superheroes, enraptured by their daring deeds.
Work. Where Heather was, immersing herself in a tale from outer space, a tale set in the future, feeling nothing like the present. Lights shone outside - and in - but closer to earth than the words on the page. She flipped and turned the pages as the hours went by ...
The boy's head hit the pillow first. Later in the night went Heather's. They both dreamed contently.
Tomorrow came, as it's wont to do. Heather and the boy walked towards each other on the street. Hellos were exchanged. And then they stopped - the boy resisting his mother's pull, Heather fighting the ticking clock on her wrist. The boy saw Heather garbed in silver, holding a lance. Heather noticed the boy was garbed in a spacesuit, looking to the heavens. For a moment, time froze. They smiled at each other.
And then they went on their way.
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A boy was given to the wrong parents (whether intentionally or by accident isn't verifiable). He thereby was deprived of the trappings, adventures, and experience ordained by the pedigree rooted in his DNA. Instead he led a perplexing then simple life. It was the best thing for everybody.
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And mine...
I'm hearing so many wonderful stories right now, I can't pick just one.
Except:
Once upon a time things were very different and I never thought they'd change. Then they did change.
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