Practical Love

"PEOPLE REALLY PISS ME OFF!" Have you ever said/thought that? Some days it seems like the world is against us. But the truth of the matter is, the people in the world are not thinking about you much at all. That !@#$%^&*ing person that cut you off on freeway was just doing what they needed to do for themselves. The perception that the person was trying to maliciously scoot in front of you to cause you to slam on your brakes and threaten your life is no more true than the opposite of that. That is right. Both the worst truth and the best truth exist at the same time. Let me explain.Your experience of the truth happens entirely in your brain. You write a play, cast the characters, give them rich histories and endow them with emotions...in your mind. This happens with everything. Since you don't have all the facts, you fill in facts based on your experience, your instincts, your emotions. This is creative energy. Have you ever seen the test that looks like this: Aro

Crying. Babies do a lot of crying. I remember my first experience with a crying baby. I had never watched a baby before, but my sister-in-law came to visit to help Cory buy a wedding dress. They left me with the baby. I was 22 years old and never held a baby before. I tried not to let on that I was terrified. She gave me some very simple advice that made it all sound so easy. If the baby cries, he only wants one of three things: food, potty or love. For food, here is a bottle. For potty, check his diaper. For love, hold, rock, talk sweet or if you just fed him, burp him. "I got this!" He cried for three hours straight as my head slowly split in two. I tried all three things in methodically monotony, one to the next, to the next, to the next, for three hours to no avail. I don't think I was adequately equipped for this ... as a man. Crying is not something we are taught to deal with. That is something to sweep under the rug. When you are young and a male, you cry and

We just had Valentines Day. Woohoo! BTW Is there an apostrophe in Valentine's Day? Valentines' Day? Anyway, I have never been a fan of the day. I am of the "Hallmark Holiday" camp. Trumped up holiday to sell cards and flowers. But you can't write a blog about love and poo-poo the only internationally recognized day for demonstrative affection. You see the commercials; you hear the radio spots; there's a lot of pressure to be romantic. So what do you do. Send roses? A card? Give out Nerds, candy hearts? Chocolate?! I know, get your wife/girlfriend/mistress some lingerie! Thanks Victoria but the secret is already out. That is the gift you give yourself. So what is a lover to do about romance on a day like this? I read somewhere (probably a trashy men's magazine) that the way to a girl's heart is not all those things. Women like a little note that shows them that you were thinking of them. HUH? Yeah, that's right. You see we are talking about a wom

Genevieve was being a grump. She was tired. Well she should have been, it was bedtime. Bedtime is always a struggle. I don't think my own parents would disagree with that. With seven kids, bedtime must have been torturous. Well, getting the girls to bed sometimes involves screaming (us at them) and sometimes I just grab them by the hand and walk them upstairs and step them through the process. This was not one of the hand holding nights. After fighting to get them upstairs, immediately we hear Genevieve screaming and crying. She was hurt. So we quickly run up the stairs, "What happened?" we exclaim. Only screams and crying could come out. "WHAT HAPPENED?" we say a little louder, as if that could jolt the explanation out over the tears. I suddenly had a flash! It was a memory, a feeling. I still cannot tell whether it was a memory of my Dad or my Mom or a combination of both. Empathy. My voice got higher as my body got lower to the ground. At her level, I c

  Has anyone ever told you who you are or who you are NOT? Did you believe them? It occurred to me that we are all so effected by what people say - how people label us. Of course, my inspiration for this post was after watching The Matrix again. Because all my inspirations are from movies. Wait until I watch Fletch again. :) In the movie, Morpheus tells Neo that he is the "One" or the one to save the world. He starts to believe him even though he as no evidence to suggest he was the one. Then the Oracle tells Neo he is NOT the one. Now he believes her. Why? Because she is supposed to be the expert. She can foresee the future. It turns out (spoiler alert) he IS the "One." Another good example of the effects of this is illustrated in the TV show, Gilmore Girls. Rory is told by Mr. Huntzberger, the big newspaper man, that she doesn't have what it takes to be a newspaper editor. She quits Yale. So yes, my tastes run from The Matrix to Gilmore Girls, but

We don't always equate eating with love. Oh, many of us "love" eating, but how about preparing dinner for friends? There is nothing more lovely than to make a meal for someone. In my last post, my musing about love-only thoughts brought me to making breakfast. As a child, we take food for granted. "What are we having for dinner?" "Liver!" "Awwww, Mom! I eating at Larry's." Last night I attended a dinner party at my dear friends' house. We have gone to several of these 'wine-tasting' themed parties at their house. They are wonderful! With love on my mind, I saw this outing with new eyes. Two of the guests had brought martini makings. Molly and Tom had planned a unique recipe. Molly volunteered to alter the drink in any way that might be more pleasing-more alcohol, less, etc. Meanwhile, Tom was carefully threading candied ginger, a peeled slice of lime and a leaf of basil on a paper umbrella to garnish the drink. The two of

You ever wonder how you would be if love was all you knew? I am going to do that right now. So, starting in the morning, I wake up and think about how lucky I am to be alive. I desperately spring to my feet to find Cory and Celia and Genevieve. How beautiful they look. As my heart is racing, I wonder, what can I do for them. I could let them sleep because they look so angelic. Maybe I should go and make them breakfast, so they awake with the smell of pancakes wafting up the stairs. So I go downstairs and open the shades to let the light in. I pull together all the ingredients for pancakes, especially the chocolate chips and quiet as a mouse, I start cooking. Sure enough, it works like a charm, because just as I set the steaming pancakes on the table, three blurry-eyed girls wander into the breakfast area. Cory's face blossoms into a smile and quietly exclaims, "You made pancakes." I could go on (should for my own sake) but you get it. It is easy to imagine love with y

It occurred to me today that I have to start this practicing love if I am going to get any better at it. So I set about to only think good thoughts about people today. It was apparently too lofty a goal for me today. Whatever you practice, you do. I don't know why we continue to practice hate, anger, sadness, frustration, jealousy, etc. It comes out. We seem to gravitate to it. Someone says, "Did you hear what she said?" and we perk up and hope it's juicy. "She is such a horrible person!" we may continue. We love this for some reason. Maybe it's because of the same genes that make us laugh every time someone falls down. Anyway, whatever the reason, it is something to fight against. But I don't want to say fight against, because that too has a negative connotation. It is something to supplant. You see we have two natures, human and spirit. I don't care what religion you practice or don't. You have to feel this spirit within you or recogniz

This is the first monster episode. Some of my favorite shows have myth episodes and monster episodes. This was first illustrated in "The X-Files". Sometimes they had myth shows about the search for Mulder's sister and the abducting aliens for the truth is out there. Then there were the monster episodes that were all related but were the more practical, every day workings of the FBI's X-File team. When I was in Theatre in High School, there was one guy involved, I'll call James, who played on the football team. This was unusual. Although I went to an all-boys Catholic prep school and the Theatre program was at the all-girlz' school next door. So I figured that guys like James and I were the obvious smart ones of the school. We quickly became friends. Now, James was a hugger. I, on the other hand, was not. James would hug me firmly but warmly. It was awkward. But he hugged everyone. Everyone! Everyone important to me in High School was girlz. If I could l