called

Second day in a row and I've been called on my cell phone with a message from a recorded voice that proclaims I have a message from someone at the local county jail. I have not been able to determine who the caller may be...the voice of the caller is hard to understand and doesn't sound familiar. So I have not accepted the call each time. And now I wonder who it is. Perhaps someone I know. Not many people know my number. Perhaps a relative? Then again, I have no news of a family member being in trouble. Likely a wrong number. A prisoner making a single call. Maybe needing help to post bail. Maybe someone I know. Being called. My dad was a minister. He professed that he was called...from God. In his religion, only men were called. Women were hired. He was called to be a minister...left a college focus on something closely related to medicine. He was a good preacher...good at starting up churches...parishes. He had a track record of staying in a parish ten years...then was called to a new parish...happened three times in a career that lasted about thirty years. Called? By God? Every ten years? Is God divisible by ten? Next time I get the call from the inmate, I may answer. Then again, I may wait eight more times...the tenth call

breaking good

Have an opportunity, maybe the proverbial "thee" opportunity, to break the usual pattern of self-defensive reaction to people...now. I usually respond very quickly to email, or questions, often with the underlying energy of defending myself and or my position...and always left empty and/or regretful. The backdrop is enormous...summed up as being around peers who hype how hard they work and or their unique sacrifice. Attention sought; attention received. I have a history of getting sucked into that vortex. It's lonely, unfruitful, defeating, depressing. So today, I enter the fray. I can continue the trend, or I can break tradition and share minimum necessary...need to know only...just the facts, limit my self exposure, be present by just sharing what is needed. In the color scheme of life, stay true to my color sight impairment and offer no color commentary. A peaceful option in the long run...though urges are evident. Best.

new it

Another year and I have much to learn. My understanding of myself leads me to know I would do well to edit a few of my life scripts. I don't think it is going to be as much an Emotional Intelligence thing, yet more a changing of my assumed conclusions. Attitudes about work, relentless appeasing of authority, competitiveness, and dallying in the intents of others was a proverbial waste of time last year. There is a work for me to complete. I've not been curious and attentive and inquisitive...certainly not very creative. Time for a reboot.

Christmas Carol and El

I suspect there is a bit of us in every time we read a Christmas Carol. We are parts Tiny Tim, parts Bob Cratchit, parts Fred, parts Scrooge, parts Marley, parts Ghost of Christmas Past, parts Ghost of Christmas Present, parts Ghost of Christmas Future. Seems we are likely parts Dickens. Though we want to be only the good part, we are parts of all. All that...for jiminy Christmas Pete's sak, for crying ñ

really?

A reality show actor opines about gay people. The world reacts. The actor may be removed from the show. The show may be cancelled. There is uproar. The show is about a family that makes duck call devices. The main actor talks to ducks. There uproar about his personal views. He makes duck calls. He speaks to ducks. This matters. We are all quacking up.

What's shut?

A week or so after the government shutdown and I'm not real sure what has been or will be accomplished. Certainly the national debt is climbing more slowly. Then again, more people are out of work and or out of Monet. Both primary political entities blame each other. I think I would prefer the politicians shut up.

legacy

I'm troubled, more than a bit, by both what I recently read in "The Long Road" by Philip Caputo, and by the thoughts that flooded my mind as a result of what I read; a portion of his book focused upon life as a Lakota in the Pine Creek Reservation in South Dakota. A major portion of that segment in the book had to do with the rate of alcoholism within the indigenous American population. Caputo made a comment about the intense efforts of indigenous Americans to restore their way...the Lakota way...the Apache way, etc. These folks will always desire to have their legacy be one of fierce bravery, communion with Nature, led by the Great Spirit, physical skills that support weathering the life within nature. And then there is alcoholism, with the percentage of alcoholics highest in no other race of man than in indigenous Americans. Seems to me that the legacy of connection with that which was strongest, but outside of their selves, leaves a short leap to relying upon ETOH to create a way of life. Once known as brave warriors, now known as formidable alcoholics. None of us is removed from the loss of who we really are when we connect with greater powers.