Monday, October 28, 2019

oh tweety tweety bird, and more...

The was once a little tweety bird, curiously orange in colour, who sat in the safety of his little nest and tweeted away day and night.  Well, one day this little bird fell out of his nest.  He glided down down down and landed gently upon the ground.  Looking around, he realized he was in an unfamiliar world and just maybe out of his league a little bit, and damn it was cold.  So, shivering, he straightened his back stuck out his chest, lifted his head and went, “Tweet, tweet, tweet.”  Well, not much time passed before a cow lumbered into view in a slow and somewhat meandering fashion, though it might not be said that the creature was in any way fashionable. This newcomer became aware of the ongoing tweeting, eyed the shivering tweety bird, stepped over him, and unloaded a big, steaming warm cow pie right on top of him.  

The tweety bird poked his head out of the warm, steaming, and probably somewhat odorous cow pie and felt rather humiliated by this situation.  The first thought that entered his mind was, “How dare someone drop a big, rather funky and noxious substance directly upon my poor little noggin!”  So, as you might guess, he straightened his back, stuck out his chest, lifted his head, and went, “tweet, tweet, tweet.”

Well, just a little bit later, a fox made the scene, just happened to be in the neighbourhood, browsing here and probably there as well.  He seemed a friendly little fellow, smiley of face and frisky of pace. He became aware of the ongoing tweeting, eyed the indignant tweety bird, stepped over him, and plucked him out of the big, steaming, warm and somewhat odorous cow pie.  “Oh, thank you thank you thank you,” sang the tweety bird, “for relieving me from this rather fetid and one might say gamy or even fusty and musty situation."  Then the fox, dusting him off carefully, smiled and plopped the tweety bird into his mouth.

I usually try to avoid providing the morals to stories I share, but this time I will make an exception.  

1. Sometimes when it looks like someone is trying to hurt you they are actually trying to help you.
2. Sometimes when it looks like someone is trying to help you they are actually trying to hurt you.
3. And finally, when you are up to your neck in cow pie – keep your mouth shut!

From the movie, My Name is Nobody...

Let yourself be drawn by the stronger pull of that which you truly love.

Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mother give birth to them, but... life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.
    Gabriel Garcia  

Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got.
    Janis Joplin

The central inner conflict is one between the constructive forces of the real self and the obstructive forces of the pride system.
    Karen Horney

Who am I?  The great inquiry indeed.

Tuesday, October 22, 2019


keep coming back
sadness or fear whelms 
keep coming back
joy or love enthrals 
keep coming back 
someone offends you
a rose delights
the light turns red
you take something personally 
a smile brightens 
the bus arrives on time
keep coming back
back to the moment-to-moment 
the true knowing
keep coming back

Saturday, October 5, 2019

as if in a dream

As if in a dream, Nityananda said to Beer Gut Throwback, “Remember me each day until the last moon of summer and see what happens.” Beer Gut Throwback set his heart in these seven directions. Most days, he remembered well. And there were days when he looked directly at the picture of Nityananda, or loudly chanted his name, but didn't remember him in the least. And at times the passing hours would see that he had never opened any eye to Nityananda, but had found the intricate silken patterns of a flower petal lightly with his fingertip or felt in his skin the flight of the broadwinged raven among the branches. And through the passage of 309 days, a rusty inner world gave way to a warm breezed, morning autumn glen and in his outer world a thousand wild horses gathered to gaze kindly upon Sweet Sister breathing softly in the sandbox. 

Friday, September 27, 2019

Baldy Noodle and Little Beetle

Baldly Noodle, with humble yet self assured pontification, declared, “Gratitude is its own reward.”

"Forgiveness too," whispered Little Beetle.

Thursday, September 19, 2019

oh the struggles...

Sometimes I struggle with the difference between being right and needing to be right.

Sometimes I struggle with the difference between being authentic and being authentic as a weapon or a means to an end.

Sometimes I struggle with the difference between seeing a person as judgmental and judging a person for being judgmental.

Monday, August 12, 2019

no hesitation

Oh Nityananda
Like water flowing from a calm and iridescent pool
Your blessing knows no hesitation
It simply finds it's way
inviting me into my own heart
Each movement 
Becomes a joy in realizing how wrong I can be
Where once I saw things as difficult
I'm learning to see them as grace
Where once I yearned for understanding
I'm beginning to see that understanding is but a stepping stone
For so long I thought that you were at one with all things
But now I see that all things are one with you 

Monday, August 5, 2019

i don't know how to title this...

There was an old rabbi, beloved by all who knew him for his compassion, kindness and wisdom. He had a newly married son who was having difficulties with his wife. And she with him. So the rabbi asked them to separately come and talk with him.

At the appointed hour, the son appeared at the door. “Come in, come in, my dear son, light of my eye, joy of my heart, fruit of my fruit-of-the-looms. Come in and tell your father what troubles you so.”

It's that new wife of mine, father. I just don't understand her.”

What is it you find so difficult to understand, my son.”

The son started listing off the behaviours and attitudes of his wife that irritated him. “Papa, she takes up the whole bed at night. She lets the kids get away with murder. She doesn't shave her legs or armpits. She always cheers for the Raptors when they play the Blue Jays. She ruffles the covers when she farts. She picks her teeth. She never misses an episode of Duck Call Dynasty. She loves Justin Trudeau. She loves Justin Beiber, I mean, Justin Beiber?" The list goes on and on. "Now she wants to move back with her mother. What have I done?! What can I do?! Am I not right to be upset?"

"Yes, you are right, my son. Please, send in your bride. And perhaps a bracing cup of decaf would do you some good."

The young man leaves and before long the rabbi's daughter-in-law enters, looking equally agitated and forlorn. “Ah, precious moon in the firmament, dearest pear in the orchard, you look so sad. Tell me please, what is wrong."

Please forgive me, father-in-law, I mean no disrespect. But that son of yours, that husband of mine, is driving me mad. He never picks up after himself. He lets the kids get away with murder. He always votes Conservative. He always cheers for the Leafs over the Habs. He picks his teeth. He doesn't shave his ears. He only listens to Mott the Hoople. I mean, Mott the Hoople? Why, I can't even fart in bed without him whining and complaining! The whole thing makes me want to go visit my mother.” Again, the litany continues. “What can I do, father-in-law. I am so confused. Am I right or am I wrong?!"

"Beloved balm to my heart and eyes. You are right. Please go rest, and perhaps something chewy will help a smile to return to your face.”

After she trudges out the door, the old man sighs, gives a barely visible shake of his head, and looks at his thumbs. Just then his wife comes in, fuming even more than the son or daughter-in-law. She positions herself right in from of him, firmly sets her feet and places her clinched fists decidedly on her hips. “My beloved wife, the primrose penumbra of my predawn hours. Most fragrant and delicate petal in my life garden. Wassup?”

I'll tell you wassup, mister,” she exclaims. “First our son comes in and complains about his wife. And you say he's right. Then his wife comes in and complains about her husband. And you say she's right. Husband! They can't both be right!”

He gazes deeply into her eyes, sighs once again, and says, “Dearest of the dearest, song of all songs, life of my love. You are right!”


My humanity is bound up in yours...
Desmond Tutu

Imperfections are not inadequacies; they are reminders that we're all in this together. 
Brene Brown

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
Carl Sagan

If one does not understand a person, one tends to regard hin as a fool. 
Carl Jung

How do you understand people so easily, someone asked. The feeling of not being understood is known to me, I replied.

We're all just walking each other home
Ram Dass