Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Apropos of nothing...
There have been a lot of parodies of the "Tom Cruise, Scientologist" video floating around, but this one is almost uncanny.
It's not all that funny – it's actually a trailer for a movie – but the actor is almost more Tom Cruise than Tom Cruise:
It's not all that funny – it's actually a trailer for a movie – but the actor is almost more Tom Cruise than Tom Cruise:
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Self esteem
Someone (blogblah!, actually) pointed out to me at the coffee shop Monday that my Sunday post in which I likened my appearance to that of a seedy character in a 1940s foreign intrigue film reflected low self esteem.
I was very much into the self esteem thing when I was in therapy. I think it would be accurate to say my self esteem was low most of my life. I considered myself to be very intelligent, but that was all I could say for myself. During therapy, I came to the conclusion that self respect was an obligation, like voting.
Later, I came to the conclusion that I probably wasn't as smart as I had always wanted to believe I was (although no fool, by any stretch) and that in most other respects, I wasn't as inadequate a person as I'd always imagined myself.
But further down the road, I became indifferent to the whole issue of self esteem. I think that if a person can quit measuring himself against others and quit trying to compete with others, self esteem becomes irrelevant. This is a goal I have set for myself.
Events have conspired to free me of some of the external pressures that can affect self esteem. I no longer have bosses whose goodwill I must cultivate (former bosses will read this and say to themselves, 'Huh? Did he ever do that?'). I've mostly lost interest in whether women are attracted to me – the relationship game is about as interesting to me now as Olympic curling. I have a large enough network of friends that if one of them starts to wear me down, I can create some space between myself and that person without being isolated.
And I have mostly dropped out of the culture that makes virtues of arrogance, superficiality and material wealth.
On the other hand, the fact that I commented on my own appearance at all suggests I haven't reached a state of perfection in this regard.
The real key is getting rid of the concept of 'self.' If there is no 'I,' there's no 'you,' either. If I then say I look seedy – well, compared to what? There's no 'I' to be seedy-looking, and no 'you' to be better-groomed. I can't compare myself to others, because there's no 'I' and no 'others.'
Here are some previous posts on the same subject:
Mmmmmm... pancakes
The flame in your hand
Self, no self
I was very much into the self esteem thing when I was in therapy. I think it would be accurate to say my self esteem was low most of my life. I considered myself to be very intelligent, but that was all I could say for myself. During therapy, I came to the conclusion that self respect was an obligation, like voting.
Later, I came to the conclusion that I probably wasn't as smart as I had always wanted to believe I was (although no fool, by any stretch) and that in most other respects, I wasn't as inadequate a person as I'd always imagined myself.
But further down the road, I became indifferent to the whole issue of self esteem. I think that if a person can quit measuring himself against others and quit trying to compete with others, self esteem becomes irrelevant. This is a goal I have set for myself.
Events have conspired to free me of some of the external pressures that can affect self esteem. I no longer have bosses whose goodwill I must cultivate (former bosses will read this and say to themselves, 'Huh? Did he ever do that?'). I've mostly lost interest in whether women are attracted to me – the relationship game is about as interesting to me now as Olympic curling. I have a large enough network of friends that if one of them starts to wear me down, I can create some space between myself and that person without being isolated.
And I have mostly dropped out of the culture that makes virtues of arrogance, superficiality and material wealth.
On the other hand, the fact that I commented on my own appearance at all suggests I haven't reached a state of perfection in this regard.
The real key is getting rid of the concept of 'self.' If there is no 'I,' there's no 'you,' either. If I then say I look seedy – well, compared to what? There's no 'I' to be seedy-looking, and no 'you' to be better-groomed. I can't compare myself to others, because there's no 'I' and no 'others.'
Here are some previous posts on the same subject:
Mmmmmm... pancakes
The flame in your hand
Self, no self
Monday, March 24, 2008
Look what I found while cleaning house
Good evening... thanks for joining us.
1990.
Jeebus.
I was probably wearing a ton of TV makeup when this was taken.
1990.
Jeebus.
I was probably wearing a ton of TV makeup when this was taken.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
More relationship stuff
I am put in a mood to write this by the Flibbertigibbet! post linked here, which you may prefer to read before continuing with this post.
I think I knew pretty quickly after my wife and I separated that I would not have any plans for remarriage. I was the one who made the decision to end it, after all.
Since then, there has been one LTR, a couple of semi-LTRs and a couple of one-time-only dates. All but two of those were ended by me. And for most of the time since my divorce, I've been entirely on my own.
I gave a friend a ride the other day, and during the trip, she talked non-stop about the same two or three topics she always talks about non-stop. About five minutes into that drive, it occurred to me: 'This is what I'm missing by not being in a relationship. I may pine for that imaginary ethereal willowy Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/hippie chick who just floats around me with long gauzy gypsy clothes trailing her, but this is what I'm really not having by being alone.'
Real relationships are dreary and a lot of work. People are neurotic. People make often unreasonable demands on your time and your priorities. People expect you to change and adapt. People have crazy beliefs they expect you to embrace. Not only that, but they think you're the neurotic, unreasonable, crazy one, when in fact you're the one who's normal. They may even expect you to give up one or more of your several cats.
I was sitting somewhere the other day – I don't remember where – and a very attractive woman walked by. After noticing she was very attractive, I thought to myself, 'And so? What about it?'
And I realized I didn't want to try to talk to her, didn't want to get to know her, didn't want to flirt with her, didn't want to see her as a buddha, didn't want to do anything except return to my own thoughts.
I guess I've felt that way most of my life.
Plus, on a more pragmatic note, I'm pretty chunky these days. I've had trouble with my weight all my adult life, but the older I get, the harder it becomes to keep it under any semblance of control. I look more and more like the Skipper on "Gilligan's Island." It's not only that I'm fat – I'm also just big. I'm taller than average. And when I find a shirt that fits me through shoulders, the sleeves often reach my knuckles. I personally don't have much concept of my size. I feel like I'm average. I'm aware of how my clothes fit (not well), but I'm always surprised when I see a picture of myself in a group and I look like Baby Huey, or like I was Photoshopped into the picture after the fact and scaled incorrectly.
All of which means you really don't want to see me dressed up as a satyr or gladiator at the Fetish Ball.
A couple of days ago, I put on a cream colored linen blazer over a white, tan and blue Hawaiian shirt and a pair of light blue trousers, topped off with a Panama hat. I thought I looked rather festive and spring-like. Then I saw myself in a picture window. I looked like some seedy American expatriate living in a banana republic in some forties movie. I wouldn't have been the chief bad guy, but the shifty character who gives the hero information he's not sure he can trust, and later turns out out be a minion of the chief bad guy.
He would not have had a willowy ethereal Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/gypsy type floating around him. Late-in-her-career Shelley Winters maybe, with more stomping than floating.
I think I knew pretty quickly after my wife and I separated that I would not have any plans for remarriage. I was the one who made the decision to end it, after all.
Since then, there has been one LTR, a couple of semi-LTRs and a couple of one-time-only dates. All but two of those were ended by me. And for most of the time since my divorce, I've been entirely on my own.
I gave a friend a ride the other day, and during the trip, she talked non-stop about the same two or three topics she always talks about non-stop. About five minutes into that drive, it occurred to me: 'This is what I'm missing by not being in a relationship. I may pine for that imaginary ethereal willowy Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/hippie chick who just floats around me with long gauzy gypsy clothes trailing her, but this is what I'm really not having by being alone.'
Real relationships are dreary and a lot of work. People are neurotic. People make often unreasonable demands on your time and your priorities. People expect you to change and adapt. People have crazy beliefs they expect you to embrace. Not only that, but they think you're the neurotic, unreasonable, crazy one, when in fact you're the one who's normal. They may even expect you to give up one or more of your several cats.
I was sitting somewhere the other day – I don't remember where – and a very attractive woman walked by. After noticing she was very attractive, I thought to myself, 'And so? What about it?'
And I realized I didn't want to try to talk to her, didn't want to get to know her, didn't want to flirt with her, didn't want to see her as a buddha, didn't want to do anything except return to my own thoughts.
I guess I've felt that way most of my life.
Plus, on a more pragmatic note, I'm pretty chunky these days. I've had trouble with my weight all my adult life, but the older I get, the harder it becomes to keep it under any semblance of control. I look more and more like the Skipper on "Gilligan's Island." It's not only that I'm fat – I'm also just big. I'm taller than average. And when I find a shirt that fits me through shoulders, the sleeves often reach my knuckles. I personally don't have much concept of my size. I feel like I'm average. I'm aware of how my clothes fit (not well), but I'm always surprised when I see a picture of myself in a group and I look like Baby Huey, or like I was Photoshopped into the picture after the fact and scaled incorrectly.
All of which means you really don't want to see me dressed up as a satyr or gladiator at the Fetish Ball.
A couple of days ago, I put on a cream colored linen blazer over a white, tan and blue Hawaiian shirt and a pair of light blue trousers, topped off with a Panama hat. I thought I looked rather festive and spring-like. Then I saw myself in a picture window. I looked like some seedy American expatriate living in a banana republic in some forties movie. I wouldn't have been the chief bad guy, but the shifty character who gives the hero information he's not sure he can trust, and later turns out out be a minion of the chief bad guy.
He would not have had a willowy ethereal Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/gypsy type floating around him. Late-in-her-career Shelley Winters maybe, with more stomping than floating.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Proselytized by metaphysicians
I was buttonholed tonight by a couple of people from the School of Metaphysics in a way that seemed reminiscent of Jehovah Witnesses or the Children of God.
They sat down beside me at the coffee shop and asked me if I liked the dinner I was eating. I said yes – and, having opened the door by my response, suddenly found an invitation to some metaphysics fair pressed into my hand.
Then the guy who gave me the invitation introduced me to his partner, who gave me a flyer for the school.
They seemed disappointed that I beat a hasty retreat.
They sat down beside me at the coffee shop and asked me if I liked the dinner I was eating. I said yes – and, having opened the door by my response, suddenly found an invitation to some metaphysics fair pressed into my hand.
Then the guy who gave me the invitation introduced me to his partner, who gave me a flyer for the school.
They seemed disappointed that I beat a hasty retreat.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Cats: they're good for you
From The Daily Telegraph:
"Owning a cat can reduce the risk of heart attacks and strokes by more than a third, researchers have found.
"Scientists said that having a cat helped to relieve stress and anxiety, which is known to help protect against heart disease by lowering blood pressure and reducing the heart rate."
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Safari
The newest version of Apple's Safari web browser supports CSS Fonts. What that means in plain English is that if you're using Safari 3.1 for Mac or Windows, it can display web pages in typefaces not already on your computer. It does this by fetching the font from an internet location the page designer specifies.
If you're using Safari 3.1, the titles on my posts should appear in a font called Jayne Print Hand. Otherwise, they'll still be in Georgia, which is a font that comes installed on Macs and Windows PCs.
If you're using OS X, you already have Safari, of course, and will be prompted to download the update. If on a PC, you can get Safari for Windows here. Safari is noticeably faster than other browsers, and as of this posting, has the highest score for the Acid3 test for accurately rendering complex web pages.
If you're using Safari 3.1, the titles on my posts should appear in a font called Jayne Print Hand. Otherwise, they'll still be in Georgia, which is a font that comes installed on Macs and Windows PCs.
If you're using OS X, you already have Safari, of course, and will be prompted to download the update. If on a PC, you can get Safari for Windows here. Safari is noticeably faster than other browsers, and as of this posting, has the highest score for the Acid3 test for accurately rendering complex web pages.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Vegetation
I bought some plants for the front porch and yard yesterday evening. They include three nandinas, to plant alongside the two I put in last year (or was it the year before?), a couple of yellow flower things whose name I don't have in front of me, some other thing that I don't know what it is, and some strawberries that I put in one of my big bean pots.
I almost always buy perennials. I don't see much sense in spending money on plants that aren't going to live very long.
I've misplaced the dozens of jackbean pods I harvested last year, but I found a few loose ones and planted those. Maybe they'll grow and I'll get some new pods in the fall.
I almost always buy perennials. I don't see much sense in spending money on plants that aren't going to live very long.
I've misplaced the dozens of jackbean pods I harvested last year, but I found a few loose ones and planted those. Maybe they'll grow and I'll get some new pods in the fall.
Monday, March 17, 2008
I try not to worry...
...but the economic news troubles me.
I try to keep in mind that it's a recession, that we've had recessions before, and that there will be a couple of lean years but that things will turn around again as they always do.
But I also remember my grandmother's horror stories of the Depression, and I remember when there were tent cities of unemployed people in Oklahoma after the oil bust. I remember people who lost their savings as banks failed one after the other in the eighties.
Over the weekend, Alan Greenspan described the current situation as the nation's worst economic crisis since WWII.
I worry that when it's all over, a lot of small savers and investors (like me) will have been thrown overboard to protect the big players whose reckless lending helped put us in this position.
I try to keep in mind that it's a recession, that we've had recessions before, and that there will be a couple of lean years but that things will turn around again as they always do.
But I also remember my grandmother's horror stories of the Depression, and I remember when there were tent cities of unemployed people in Oklahoma after the oil bust. I remember people who lost their savings as banks failed one after the other in the eighties.
Over the weekend, Alan Greenspan described the current situation as the nation's worst economic crisis since WWII.
I worry that when it's all over, a lot of small savers and investors (like me) will have been thrown overboard to protect the big players whose reckless lending helped put us in this position.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
More dreams
I had four very strange dreams last night. The details of one and two have since escaped me. Dream three, I remember vaguely, included a scene where I was in a car on a highway and the highway was being strafed and bombed by airplanes, including a passenger jet. But there were no explosions and no one was hurt.
In the fourth dream, I was driving north on Pennsylvania through Nichols Hills. I suddenly realized, as I was halfway through the intersection, that I was about to miss my left turn. I turned the wheel hard to the left without braking. The car rolled one and a quarter times, ending up on its side on the grass.
This was not my minivan, by the way, but a small blue sedan, not unlike one I actually saw smashed up in the aftermath of a traffic accident on N May Ave. Saturday morning.
I found myself lying on the grass beside the car, apparently unhurt. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. It was damaged, but looked as if it might still work.
But before I could try it, a woman in a uniform appeared in front of me. She was relatively short, with Mediterranean features and log, curly brown hair framing a heart-shaped face. She resembled some actress I remember from years back, but I can't recall who.
I couldn't tell from her uniform if she was a police officer or an EMT or what. Her shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and she looked as if she had either just gotten off work or was on her way to work.
She asked me if I was okay and I told her I though I was. I checked my cell phone again in case I needed to call for help.
We looked into each other's eyes for a moment, and then we kissed. I asked her her name, and she replied 'Aoss.' I didn't understand that and I asked her to spell it, which she did: "A - O - S - S."
Suddenly I had a felt tip pen in my right hand, and I was writing her name on the palm of my left hand.
"Can I get your phone number?" I asked.
Then, out of nowhere, an old friend from my TV days appeared. She also knew Aoss, and actually had come up to the scene to chat with her.
"Hey, Ann Dee," I said, "do you mind? I need to get her phone number before I wake up from this dream."
I turned back to Aoss, pen at the ready. "It'll be interesting to see if this stuff is actually on the palm of my hand when I wake up," I said.
Aoss opened her mouth to give me her phone number - and that's when I woke up.
The palm of my hand was blank.
Characters in my dreams often have weird names I apparently just make up on the fly in my sleep.
In the fourth dream, I was driving north on Pennsylvania through Nichols Hills. I suddenly realized, as I was halfway through the intersection, that I was about to miss my left turn. I turned the wheel hard to the left without braking. The car rolled one and a quarter times, ending up on its side on the grass.
This was not my minivan, by the way, but a small blue sedan, not unlike one I actually saw smashed up in the aftermath of a traffic accident on N May Ave. Saturday morning.
I found myself lying on the grass beside the car, apparently unhurt. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. It was damaged, but looked as if it might still work.
But before I could try it, a woman in a uniform appeared in front of me. She was relatively short, with Mediterranean features and log, curly brown hair framing a heart-shaped face. She resembled some actress I remember from years back, but I can't recall who.
I couldn't tell from her uniform if she was a police officer or an EMT or what. Her shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and she looked as if she had either just gotten off work or was on her way to work.
She asked me if I was okay and I told her I though I was. I checked my cell phone again in case I needed to call for help.
We looked into each other's eyes for a moment, and then we kissed. I asked her her name, and she replied 'Aoss.' I didn't understand that and I asked her to spell it, which she did: "A - O - S - S."
Suddenly I had a felt tip pen in my right hand, and I was writing her name on the palm of my left hand.
"Can I get your phone number?" I asked.
Then, out of nowhere, an old friend from my TV days appeared. She also knew Aoss, and actually had come up to the scene to chat with her.
"Hey, Ann Dee," I said, "do you mind? I need to get her phone number before I wake up from this dream."
I turned back to Aoss, pen at the ready. "It'll be interesting to see if this stuff is actually on the palm of my hand when I wake up," I said.
Aoss opened her mouth to give me her phone number - and that's when I woke up.
The palm of my hand was blank.
Characters in my dreams often have weird names I apparently just make up on the fly in my sleep.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Cats
You may or may not be as fond of cats as I am. You'll like this better if you're a 'cat person,' but even non-cat people may find it entertaining.
Gasping for air
Just woke up gasping for air after another job-related dream.
In the dream I was futzing around with stuff - I don't even know what - when I realized I had let time get away from me and I was going to miss slot (ie, not have the story ready in time) for the lead position at five pm.
It was a story pertaining to homelessness - a story which I had no hand in preparing, but which I was supposed to assemble from notes and unedited video tape shot by a different crew. It was almost five, and I couldn't find the tape.
I asked a producer to check the internet and bring me some local statistics on homelessness, but what she brought me instead were facts and figures about ambulance services.
The producer was already up in the control room, and I told someone else to call upstairs and tell him I wasn't going to be ready for five.
I looked up at the newsroom monitor and there was something going on with Lou Waters, who was a CNN anchor back in the eighties and nineties.
I finally woke up, gasping for air as I said, and it took about five seconds to get a grip on myself and realize I was dreaming and could stop worrying about making slot.
I guess that's what comes from 25 years in television plus churrasco misto for dinner.
In the dream I was futzing around with stuff - I don't even know what - when I realized I had let time get away from me and I was going to miss slot (ie, not have the story ready in time) for the lead position at five pm.
It was a story pertaining to homelessness - a story which I had no hand in preparing, but which I was supposed to assemble from notes and unedited video tape shot by a different crew. It was almost five, and I couldn't find the tape.
I asked a producer to check the internet and bring me some local statistics on homelessness, but what she brought me instead were facts and figures about ambulance services.
The producer was already up in the control room, and I told someone else to call upstairs and tell him I wasn't going to be ready for five.
I looked up at the newsroom monitor and there was something going on with Lou Waters, who was a CNN anchor back in the eighties and nineties.
I finally woke up, gasping for air as I said, and it took about five seconds to get a grip on myself and realize I was dreaming and could stop worrying about making slot.
I guess that's what comes from 25 years in television plus churrasco misto for dinner.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Friday afternoon
It stands to reason, I guess, that some people are more musically inclined than others... eh?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
It's Monday
But I'm not attached to it being Monday. It could be Wednesday or Friday or Saturday, and that would be fine.
There seems to be a certain degree of entropy that comes with non-attachment. I get this sense of all the emotional and psychological wheels slowing down. I wonder if they will reach a point where they will stop, and if so, what that will be like.
I guess it won't be like anything.
Maybe I'll just sit on the porch.
There seems to be a certain degree of entropy that comes with non-attachment. I get this sense of all the emotional and psychological wheels slowing down. I wonder if they will reach a point where they will stop, and if so, what that will be like.
I guess it won't be like anything.
Maybe I'll just sit on the porch.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Hats
I still have my hat attachment. Although I don't often wear them, I have many. Most are too small, and I ought to just give them away.
I wear a size 8 hat, which very few retailers stock. Even the big online places don't have many. But I found a place this evening with a pretty good selection, so I bought three - two Borsalino panamas and a wool beret.
I wear a size 8 hat, which very few retailers stock. Even the big online places don't have many. But I found a place this evening with a pretty good selection, so I bought three - two Borsalino panamas and a wool beret.
Dreamland
"You seem to be drifting off into dreamland," a friend told me this afternoon.
"You mean right now," I replied, "or in general?"
"In general," she said.
I think that's true, after a manner of speaking. I've noticed it myself, beginning first when I retired, then at a more accelerated pace over the past six to eight weeks.
Maybe it's just a temporary thing, but as I've said before, I feel like I've turned the corner on some things – old attachments, mostly – and that I'm headed into some new direction.
There's nothing especially interesting or exciting about it. It's just like going down Classen Boulevard and turning on NW 36. It's a change in direction, but there's nothing that makes 36th more interesting or special than Classen. It's just... a change.
"You mean right now," I replied, "or in general?"
"In general," she said.
I think that's true, after a manner of speaking. I've noticed it myself, beginning first when I retired, then at a more accelerated pace over the past six to eight weeks.
Maybe it's just a temporary thing, but as I've said before, I feel like I've turned the corner on some things – old attachments, mostly – and that I'm headed into some new direction.
There's nothing especially interesting or exciting about it. It's just like going down Classen Boulevard and turning on NW 36. It's a change in direction, but there's nothing that makes 36th more interesting or special than Classen. It's just... a change.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Friday
Today was a slow day, even by my standards. Got up and went to the Red Cup about ten. Went to lunch with friends at about 11:30. Went home and slept until about 4:30. Got up and met more friends for dinner at Galileo. Did the gallery walk, then came home.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Forget the Buddha
I'm tellin' ya, I like this Clear Mind Zen dude. This is what I was trying to say when I was explaining why I was going to write less about Buddhism:
Forget the Buddha: be yourself.
Some day I'm going to have to go to Las Cruces and meet this guy.
Not really. Maybe he can meet me at NW 36 and Classen.
Forget the Buddha: be yourself.
Some day I'm going to have to go to Las Cruces and meet this guy.
Not really. Maybe he can meet me at NW 36 and Classen.
Sonics
I'm on the record as not being very enthused about this Sonics deal. The sales tax vote - which is the part the voters have some say in - passed overwhelmingly. So be it.
But I was somewhat surprised at some of the comments I heard.
Some people said they would leave town if we didn't get the NBA. Just move away. No point in living here without the NBA.
Others thought the NBA would 'bring us together as a city,' eliminating the age-old divide between - wait for it - Sooner fans and Cowboy fans. The presumption apparently being that those are the only two kinds of people living here.
It seems to me that these folks have gone beyond being mere fans. Their entire sense of personal identity seems to be pegged to sports in general and, in particular, the NBA.
I understand that it's happening, but I don't understand why.
But I was somewhat surprised at some of the comments I heard.
Some people said they would leave town if we didn't get the NBA. Just move away. No point in living here without the NBA.
Others thought the NBA would 'bring us together as a city,' eliminating the age-old divide between - wait for it - Sooner fans and Cowboy fans. The presumption apparently being that those are the only two kinds of people living here.
It seems to me that these folks have gone beyond being mere fans. Their entire sense of personal identity seems to be pegged to sports in general and, in particular, the NBA.
I understand that it's happening, but I don't understand why.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Stormy weather clarification
It's only fair to mention, I guess, that in my current physical condition, cuddling up under a blanket with me would be like cuddling up with a 250-pound slab of biscuit dough. With a bad cough.
So I don't entertain any expectations in that regard.
So I don't entertain any expectations in that regard.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Stormy weather
I will say that among my remaining attachments is the desire to have some willowy ethereal Buddhist/hippie/gypsy chick to share the Blanket of Sublime Bliss during thunderstorms like this one.
But only during thunderstorms – not all the time.
But only during thunderstorms – not all the time.
Wheee!
KOCO says tornado hook echo five blocks south of my house.
Now is the time to practice non-attachment.
Now is the time to practice non-attachment.
How would Jesus vote?
"There are certain times in your life when saying yes is simply the right thing to do," says this 'Big League City' mailer apparently sent via some targeted mailing list.
"When we said YES to the MAPS projects 15 years ago, we set in motion so many positive changes for our city. Building the arena gave us the opportunity to host Dr. Billy Graham's crusade, one of my proudest moments as Mayor. And the combined impact of what is happening downtown created an environment that competes to keep our children and grandchildren in Oklahoma City.
"This vote on March 4th is about so much more than one building or one basketball team. It's about doing the right thing for our city – creating the environment where we can grow together as families. But it's also about having a facility where we can come together as a community, for events like Women of Faith, Promise Keepers and others, and reach people in profound ways to promote our values as a city.
"I am voting YES on Tuesday, March 4th. I urge you to join me."
Kirk Humphreys
One of my favorite subjects
From Clear Mind Zen:
more here
I seem to have turned a couple of corners on this recently. I think I've mentioned before that there were attachments which I was able to give up easily - fashion, for example.
There were other attachments, though, which were harder to give up - even though it was plainly obvious they were causing me pain all out of proportion to the occasional good feeling I got from them. We have a line of thought in our culture that one should never give up. But this is an invitation, if misinterpreted, to keep banging our heads against the wall in search of things we're never going to get. We expend energy in pursuit of those things that could be more effectively applied to other purposes – or in my case, not applied at all.
Alternately, we may expend so much energy and effort on getting our desires that once we've achieved them, there's no way they're going to be worth what we sacrificed for them.
(I wonder, for example, if Mitt Romney had eventually been elected president, whether he would have found the experience worth the $40 million or so of his own money he spent campaigning for it.
That's an extreme example, of course. What about the couple who buy a house that's right on the outer limit of their ability to afford it, and then they both lay awake every night worrying about it?
What about the person who finds a sexy, glamorous partner and then discovers he or she spends more time ad energy coping with the partner's craziness than enjoying the partner's company?)
I still have a few lingering attachments that are of the 'don't have but think I'd like to have' variety. In some ways, these are easier to live with because of their impossibility. There's no tangible object dragging me down. It's not so much the attachment that's the problem as it's the 'never give up hope' thing churning in the back of my mind.
But as time goes by, and I get older, wiser (I hope) and frankly slower, some of these attachments seem to just disappear by themselves. I don't have any great epiphany about them; I just realize one day that they don't mean anything to me anymore.
And sometimes I miss the little adrenalin rush and anxiety that comes with wanting things, but I don't miss it much.
"Non-attachment means non-investment. We suffer in direct proportion to our emotional investment in something we perceive we are about to lose."
more here
I seem to have turned a couple of corners on this recently. I think I've mentioned before that there were attachments which I was able to give up easily - fashion, for example.
There were other attachments, though, which were harder to give up - even though it was plainly obvious they were causing me pain all out of proportion to the occasional good feeling I got from them. We have a line of thought in our culture that one should never give up. But this is an invitation, if misinterpreted, to keep banging our heads against the wall in search of things we're never going to get. We expend energy in pursuit of those things that could be more effectively applied to other purposes – or in my case, not applied at all.
Alternately, we may expend so much energy and effort on getting our desires that once we've achieved them, there's no way they're going to be worth what we sacrificed for them.
(I wonder, for example, if Mitt Romney had eventually been elected president, whether he would have found the experience worth the $40 million or so of his own money he spent campaigning for it.
That's an extreme example, of course. What about the couple who buy a house that's right on the outer limit of their ability to afford it, and then they both lay awake every night worrying about it?
What about the person who finds a sexy, glamorous partner and then discovers he or she spends more time ad energy coping with the partner's craziness than enjoying the partner's company?)
I still have a few lingering attachments that are of the 'don't have but think I'd like to have' variety. In some ways, these are easier to live with because of their impossibility. There's no tangible object dragging me down. It's not so much the attachment that's the problem as it's the 'never give up hope' thing churning in the back of my mind.
But as time goes by, and I get older, wiser (I hope) and frankly slower, some of these attachments seem to just disappear by themselves. I don't have any great epiphany about them; I just realize one day that they don't mean anything to me anymore.
And sometimes I miss the little adrenalin rush and anxiety that comes with wanting things, but I don't miss it much.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Saturday
My toe is still fairly purple today, but not as bad as it looked last night. I may venture out on it today.
I'm tired of being sidelined by illness and injury. I'm ready to spring into inaction.
My advice to you is to read these posts without judgement or opinion, having no concepts such as interesting or uninteresting.
What is the Buddha? A stubbed toe.
I'm tired of being sidelined by illness and injury. I'm ready to spring into inaction.
My advice to you is to read these posts without judgement or opinion, having no concepts such as interesting or uninteresting.
What is the Buddha? A stubbed toe.
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