tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85670707698945202862024-03-12T23:06:49.465-07:00MegzBlogzAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-33103579071735343932015-01-21T17:38:00.000-08:002015-01-25T17:28:58.886-08:00Jealousy...What a Beautiful Emotion!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Jealousy,
what an amazing and sneaky emotion! I was so pleased with myself the other day
while thinking, “I am so glad I was created with the temperament such that I
don’t find myself jealous of others, but rather find joy in their success,
happiness and well-being, even if they have what I want.” Yes, it is as soon as
we puff up our chests with a sentiment such as this that a reminder of our
humanity is served to us on a silver platter, or Instagram. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
This
past Sunday the weather was unseasonably warm and was a day that beckoned
outdoor play. I was sick and I had LOTS of work to do. I had no choice but to
spend my day inside or rushing from place to place. I opened up Instagram and
beautiful hiking photo after beautiful hiking photo popped up. I felt myself
overcome with a pouty feeling at which I smiled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
One
of my favorite lines from Maya Angelou’s book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings</i> is (paraphrased) “Sista, if you
find something about yo’ self that you don’t like, change it. If you can’t
change it, change the way you think about it.” This has been something I have
returned to time and time again. You can replace “yo’self” with anything, a
situation, circumstance, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
wonderful tool for balancing emotions and feeling truly happy and content in
life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Anyhow,
I momentarily lamented about the beautiful January day that I unfortunately
could not spend outside and then it fluttered away and I was able to feel joy
for my friend who was out frolicking in it. To make up for the beautiful day I
missed, I seized the opportunity and carved out an hour from my Monday
afternoon to do a little playing myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In this case, my momentary tinge of jealousy served as an inspiration
for me to feel joy for another and receive joy in the action I took as well.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-26585853377239378302014-07-21T22:00:00.000-07:002015-01-31T10:11:52.294-08:00Firefly Patch..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It never ceases to amaze me how when we push ourselves just a skosh, the gifts that reveal themselves to us. For instance, tonight...<br />
</div>
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I had already donned my paisley pajama pants and black camisole. I prepared a cup of chamomile tea with honey, overly-sweetened by most people's standards, but just the way I like it! I was ready to head upstairs when Abigail gave me the nod and ran to sit next to the front door. "Oy vey! I can't walk around the neighborhood in my jammies, Abigail." The voice of reason piped in... "What if I have to take a sh**?"<br />
</div>
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"Okay, you win." I quickly slipped on my black leather flip flops and headed out on our path. The humid summer night enveloped me as I walked. Tiny flickers surrounded me. It was as if I were walking through a firefly patch! That is, if there is such a thing. It brought me back to memories of childhood in my front lawn catching fireflies and storing them in a mason jar topped with a shiny gold lid punched with holes.<br />
</div>
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I felt like I hadn't seen fireflies in years! Is that even possible?<br />
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;">
I continued walking with Abigail. I was a few paces behind her and we turned the block. As we approached the next corner, a man from his garage called out. I smiled, waved back and Abigail trotted up to greet him. "Great," I thought, "not exactly what I wanted on this walk!" After properly introducing Abigail and myself to this gentleman named Steve, he remarked, "Is she always so nice?" I smiled with great satisfaction and replied, "Yes, she is."<br />
</div>
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After giving her a minute to enjoy the company of her new friend, I gave a gentle cluck of my tongue and snap of my fingers. Abigail and I returned down the driveway to the sidewalk to continue on our path. At this moment, I felt myself overcome with joy.<br />
</div>
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To think... If I had been selfish and not given the extra 15 minutes it took to give Abigail an additional walk she longed for, how much joy I would have missed out on!</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0Lebanon Lebanon36.246493 -86.446299tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-3175516470623358972014-06-06T11:31:00.001-07:002014-06-06T19:10:28.089-07:00Stop to Smell the Roses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This
morning’s walk is dedicated to Mary Oliver who I was recently introduced to …
A woman whose relationship with her dog and nature are equally as strong….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Abigail
and I have become accustomed to walking without a leash. I find it necessary to
scoop her solid, little body up only when other dog owners of more ferocious
dogs have their pets off of leashes and Abigail gets territorial. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
During
this morning’s walk around the block, she bolted across the street and started
heavily sniffing a mailbox. I made my way across the street to give he a gentle
nudge to come back to our walking path and she moves along to the next mailbox,
then the next and then the large shrub. I can tell that she has had this desire
and she is filling her palate with all new, intriguing scents.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
She
reminded me that we often go through our routine because we are in a hurry and
because it is the most efficient way. It is often a very pleasant and stress free
as well, but every once in awhile you have to break from your path and make a
dart across the street to “stop to smell the roses”, or mailboxes!</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-36391382049771048932013-12-25T18:43:00.000-08:002013-12-25T18:43:43.993-08:00Compassion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">compassion</i>
is derived from the Latin roots<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span class="foreign">com-</span>
"together" or “with”+ <span class="foreign">pati</span> "to
suffer" or “endure”. To endure or to suffer with another is something that
comes from the heart. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One would think that experience begets
compassion<i> </i>and<i> </i>that those who have experienced similar situations
would inherently find compassion for others who follow the same path, but this
isn’t always so. I have observed the opposite in both myself and others; the
scenario in which those who have walked in the same shoes turn their back on
those currently in similar situations. I once naively thought that
circumstances of the same caliber were created equal. They are not. We have a
different capacity for that which we can personally handle and for the
compassion we have for others. For these reasons, all experiences are not
created equal nor do equivalent circumstances beget commensurate amounts of
compassion. However, it all balances out in the end. Fortunately, the world is blessed
with souls who find compassion less the experience to obtain it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I began writing this piece several months ago and kept running into fallacies in my thinking. I
was troubled with how we could possibly create a more compassionate world when it
is necessary to distance oneself from situations for the sake of self-preservation. My mind
took twists and turns down a maze of thoughts as to where the balance was between<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> compassion and self-preservation</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a moment of clarity while driving and
quickly sketched out this train of thought in <a href="http://mightymegzblogz.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-power-of-intention.html" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Power of Intention</i></a>. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This moment of clarity resulted in classifying different forms of compassion such that all people can be compassionate to one another always. It is all in one's intention. This in and of itself a difficult thing to understand and often misunderstood.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Branch to bough<i>, with an open heart, compassion is always available for both the receiver and the giver.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>Distant Compassion </i> </h4>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>To endure or suffer with another from a distance
in a detached state. In this state of compassion one can offer his hand to
another through prayer, good thoughts and actions. </li>
</ul>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>Indirect Compassion</i> </h4>
<ul style="text-align: justify;">
<li>To endure or suffer with another while
maintaining boundaries. An example of this may be to be directly involved in
someone’s life, but choosing to abstain from conversation about that which they
may be suffering. While I have no empirical evidence, my instinct tells me that
albeit an extremely beneficial form of compassion to practice, indirect
compassion is likely to be the least practiced. I find that people often go for
outliers when it comes to unknown situations such as one where practicing a
form of compassion is appropriate. It is easier to go all in or do nothing.
</li>
</ul>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Direct Compassion</i></h4>
<ul style="text-align: justify;">
<li>To endure or suffer with another directly. One
might say this is a gentler form of empathy. When one has direct compassion for
another she is involved in <span style="font-family: Cambria;">someone's</span> life on a regular basis, understands the
sufferings and endures them with him/her. This is not to say that she takes on
the feelings of the sufferer. That would be moving into a position of empathy.
We can have direct compassion for each other at all points in life, both good
and troubled. Although, during the latter it is often beneficial for most to
take positions of distant or indirect compassion. This form of compassion
usually falls on caretakers, family members, spouses, lovers, etc </li>
</ul>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-27401544694292233332013-11-17T08:10:00.003-08:002013-11-17T09:24:10.451-08:00The Power of Intention...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have been writing a piece on compassion for several weeks
now and I have had a major breakthrough on a fallacy in the development of this piece that I didn’t know how to address. I found myself effortlessly
typing through this fallacy and desired to reference another one of my
writings regarding our words and thoughts and their intentions. I quickly looked
through the documents saved on my desktop and lo and behold, I have not written
this piece! I have spoken these ideas and referenced the quote mentioned below, but I have not put ink to paper or finger to keypad. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was in 2005 around the time of Pope John Paul II’s death
that I remember really thinking intensely about prayer and about how so
many people in the world were actively in prayer together. I thought that
although it was a beautiful thing that so many people were gathered in prayer
together at this particular time, it would be nice if it happened more frequently. It was somewhere around that time that a St. Francis of
Assisi quote found its way into my favorite quote book. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"</span></span><i><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Pray without ceasing</span></i><span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">If necessary</span></i><span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">,
</span></span><i><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">use
words</span></i><span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How does one do this? Oh, how I love this catholic (in the
lower-case sense of the word) quote! I interpret this to mean that all of our
actions, interactions, thoughts, deeds, and words are all
forms of prayer. Practicing mindfulness; being aware of the energy we put forth
into the world and that we are all one and have the ability to impact others in
both a positive and negative way. We are always praying whether we realize it or not. The true power comes from applying discernment, awareness and love to our daily life. No mala beads, rosaries or kneeling required.</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-59835128677092132422013-09-23T08:40:00.001-07:002013-09-23T17:27:22.131-07:00Wellsprings...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
September 12 <br />
<br />
The
train of thought that I will now take that any reader that so chooses to follow
me down began yesterday. However, I opted not to put fingers to keyboard until
today in order not to diminish the gravity of tragedy that occurred on
September 11, 2001 by the parallel that I will soon draw. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Upon
leaving mass yesterday, the thought occurred to me of the date. The common
thing you hear on 9/11 is, “I remember where I was on 9/11”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind wandered to where I was when I
received a call. “Is your TV on?” I was sitting on the edge of my bed in my apartment
in rural Murfreesboro, TN when I took that call. This image of me on the edge
of my bed sparked the thought of another time I sat in the very spot on the
edge of my bed and had a realization that has carried me over the past 12
years…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No matter what is taken from you; material
possessions, your reputation, relationships, etc. The two things that no one
can take from you are your ability to forgive and your ability to love. They are
wellsprings. </i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-41968396012854085492013-09-09T09:07:00.001-07:002013-09-14T20:01:42.116-07:00A Morning Walk, A Blue Top & A Chinese Proverb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A morning smile crept across my face as my 12 pound, bossy
little lady gave her doggy version of a little girl putting her hand on her
hips, tossing her head to one side as her pig-tails set high upon either side
of her head follow and said, “Come on mom. I want to go outside. This is
soooooo boring!” I was being selfish and was already busy at work before taking
her for her morning walk. I sometimes forget that I enjoy these walks equally
as much as she does.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This morning’s walk was filled with the oscillating cadences
of nature’s song. It’s hard to place all of the sounds. This morning I was
curious as to what controlled the different rate at which crickets and other
insects chirp and learned there is a correlative effect to temperature and this
relationship is known as Dolbear’s Law. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyhow, during this perfect, peaceful morning walk down
a tree-lined verdant street; I noticed an electric blue, round plastic top,
which measured about 3 inches in diameter. The lid had slits in it, which were
in the form of pinwheels. I may have past it once or twice before. Actually, I
am pretty sure I have, but I tend to daydream on my walks, so I have never
given it much thought. However, yesterday, I saw this very same top on my
godson’s snack holder. It is a brilliant invention!!! It is designed so that
the little tyke can get his hand into the snack holder and the snacks don’t
easily fall out!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The point to this morning’s rambling is that we often see
things in life, pass by them, listen to them (songs), read them etc. But after
we experience them, they take on meaning and we recognize them for what they
are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I had no idea when I began writing this that I would get to
share one of my all-time favorite quotes!! Yay<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"> :)<span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"></span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>Tell me, I’ll forget.</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Show me, I’ll
remember.</i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Involve me. I’ll
understand.</i>”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Chinese Proverb</b></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-3216256524029336712013-09-03T05:35:00.001-07:002013-09-29T20:59:42.517-07:00Finding Faith....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
have a very strong belief system albeit one mixed with a mosaic of the world’s
religions. My belief system comes from my heart and I have learned throughout
life that when I can trust nothing else, I can trust my heart. I start here
because during meditation this morning it was weighing on my heart that I have
unevenly misrepresented my belief system. Although my blog is in its early
stages, there is not one quote from Catholicism or any mention to it when in
fact the first place I turn in times of trouble is prayer and to mass. A few
months back when I found myself unable to understand what was happening, living
in a state of disbelief despite reality staring directly at me that I found
myself feeling hopeless and lost. I went to mass daily and prayed and took
communion. I went back daily and waited to be relieved
from the pain that my mind could not really conceive because it wouldn’t even
accept the reality of the situation. This entry is not the full story to when I
finally accepted the reality and let go, but rather a few other
tid-bits that I have failed to share along the way.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One
day, I was running a few minutes late to the 12:10 mass, so I scurried in and
took my place near the back of the cathedral and listened to the priest as he
continued with is homily. In all of my years of attending mass I had never
heard a homily quite like this. Sure I have heard the Catholic Church speak
about homosexuality and abortion, but not the entire homily speaking down on
someone who has an abortion or is attracted to the same sex. I began to “go down a tunnel”
aka have a panic attack. Have a panic attack in mass??? This was ridiculous. This
was supposed to be my sanctuary, my oasis in the middle of the desert. My mind
began to race. “How could I take communion from this man? I don’t agree with
him. I don’t feel it is my choice to place judgment on any other person.
Although a decision is not right for me, who am I to say what is right for
someone else? Does the bible not say that charity (aka love) is above all
else? What if god gave us all of these other differences to make us realize the
most important thing is love? How can I take communion from this man?” </span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That
was the moment I realized I had began putting faith in man and that my faith
and relationship with God has nothing to do with man. </span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, now that I have introduced a rather jolting experience that
strengthened my relationship with God, but would likely be
seen as blasphemy by a more traditional and non "Cafeteria-Catholic" such as
myself, I have a little more food for thought. Below I have
provided the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, something I have used as my
centering “mantra” for many years now to ground me. It is actually on a placard
in my favorite city in the United States, Saint Augustine. St. Augustine is
lovely and charming. It is the oldest city in the States and has a tiny little
chapel. It has never been hit by a hurricane and is said to be protected by the
prayers of the nuns who originally came over. My family and I vacationed in St.
Augustine when we were children. The photos here are from a mother/daughter
trip in December of 2008</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Lord, make me an instrument of thy
peace.<br />
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,<br />
Where there is injury, pardon;<br />
Where there is doubt, faith;<br />
Where there is despair, hope;<br />
Where there is darkness, light;<br />
And where there is sadness, joy.<br />
<br />
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek<br />
to be consoled as to console,<br />
to be understood as to understand,<br />
to be loved, as to love.<br />
<br />
For it is in giving that we receive,<br />
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,<br />
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">- St. Francis of Assisi </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdC2JgpsoHN6mVaMpoIqpHMa4s2XsvylJUFJyixmrWRxxVMGU75Sy_sL6vAfVdq2lK-PxdywxJArqer-WJ3uZD2YQUNxsuUOWNU3bJ8lyzq7W9_ZgyQBUt_6rkJnD4eui0t6VM2-Msxw4w/s1600/St+Francis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdC2JgpsoHN6mVaMpoIqpHMa4s2XsvylJUFJyixmrWRxxVMGU75Sy_sL6vAfVdq2lK-PxdywxJArqer-WJ3uZD2YQUNxsuUOWNU3bJ8lyzq7W9_ZgyQBUt_6rkJnD4eui0t6VM2-Msxw4w/s1600/St+Francis.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3bx3SL96woLCDxqMRUSzaomz8gytNsxOs39Xy7GOp7UGSvSqdGCNZ0bDSc5UZvLpUrCrLpykXdQxyimfWsJoXOfv3dWsKUtSaN5BguENU2zcG6fMbjlrZBwDTGEcXu0lFOzaHkFFTPJW/s1600/St.+Francis+Prayre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3bx3SL96woLCDxqMRUSzaomz8gytNsxOs39Xy7GOp7UGSvSqdGCNZ0bDSc5UZvLpUrCrLpykXdQxyimfWsJoXOfv3dWsKUtSaN5BguENU2zcG6fMbjlrZBwDTGEcXu0lFOzaHkFFTPJW/s1600/St.+Francis+Prayre.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-11810416484930106632013-08-13T10:07:00.002-07:002013-09-29T20:43:29.375-07:00Eleanor Roosevelt Once Said......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>“Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but
beautiful old people are works of art.”</b> – Eleanor Roosevelt</div>
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This quote has stayed with me for many, many years. I am not
even sure when I catalogued it in my mental Rolodex of favorite quotes. I
interpret this quote as such: When we are young, our physical appearance is
largely determined by genetics. Some can be altered through diet, exercise,
grooming, etc. However, the “fairest” faces are pre-determined. After
a lifetime of either smiling and laughing or alternatively giving dirty looks
behind someone’s back and frowning, the face becomes a canvas and tells the
story of that person; a story that cannot be hidden.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Take a moment to think about the elderly people you see; the
old man with the twinkle in his eyes and the sunshine wrinkles that frame them. Some people call these wrinkles "crows feet"…I am not sure why. This evokes something dark and foreboding; something unwelcoming, but they come from
intense smiling! The man with the sunshine wrinkles was that guy who always did random acts of kindness. Not
because it was on his “to-do” list as part of a new trend to find the path to enlightenment
(not that there is anything wrong with this… whatever works!), but because it is
just who he is. He waved at his neighbors in the morning and smiled at
strangers. You knew instantly that this man was approachable and kind by the
aged canvas, his face. Now think about the woman who was a stunning beauty; a
kept woman who sat with her girlfriends smoking cigarettes and gossiping. Now,
the skin around her lips is wrinkled. Her eyes dull and the skin on her face
looks ashen despite the attempts to give it color with rouge. She can no longer
hide the disdain she has for those around her with an instant, albeit insincere
smile. Her canvas tells the story of her life. Painted in oil, it
once glimmered brightly for all to admire. New layers painted many times over
the years have dried rigidly and cracked. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I am not sure if my interpretation is what Eleanor Roosevelt
meant when she said these words, nor have I taken the time to research this
quote, but that is the great thing about a quote or a song lyric; it speaks in
many different ways to an array of people at different points in time. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-70296716342013652092013-08-09T15:16:00.002-07:002013-09-09T07:21:47.777-07:00Practicing What We Preach...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The thought occurred to me that if anyone is reading this, it is likely a friend or acquaintance of mine. If not, the thought that will follow would never even enter your mind. What I write is not meant to place judgement on any person other than myself. My blogs are simply a collection of thoughts and introspection, funny stories and reflection. If any of them apply to you and you like my view-point/way of thinking about it, than consider it yours!<br />
<br />
I decided to start writing a blog because I think constantly and I learn from my mistakes. What could possibly be better than to learn from one's experiences than to share and possibly be the catalyst for change in another person's life. This is not because I am arrogant or think my way of thinking is right. To the contrary, I am quite self-conscious about sharing my point of view, especially on a forum such as the "world wide web"! However, my point of view and opinions are just a few more to add to the billions out there. ALL points of view (in my opinion) should not be taken at face value, but considered, digested, deconstructed and reconstructed with adjustments if necessary. <br />
<br />
So, a thought that has been rolling around in my head for a few weeks now that seems appropriate to interject into this blog is....<br />
<br />
<b>"If we hold others to high standards, then practicing what we preach becomes a labor of life."</b><br />
<br />
....The reason I have not yet shared this is because the thought is a work in progress. It is not quite right. Practicing what we preach is actually a joy, not a labor (again, in my opinion). It can be tough sometimes, but it is satisfying. On that note, I add one of my favorite Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) quotes:<br />
<br />
<b>"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest."</b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-19861217710797025182013-08-07T06:28:00.002-07:002013-10-08T20:51:14.856-07:00The Lesson to Learning Life's Lessons....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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July 18, 2013</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Life’s
lessons cannot be learned in a minute, an hour or even a lifetime. Do not
despair, a sufficient number of life’s lessons can be learned if one brings
awareness to his/her actions, interactions, adventures and misadventures.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This
morning’s sequences of actions and misadventures gave birth to quite a few of
life’s lessons…</div>
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<br /></div>
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Pappy,
Sweetie and Buddy, the 3 dogs my sister rescued, live at my brother’s house
(because he has a large backyard). I recently moved back to Nashville and reside here as well with my dog Abigail.
She is the inside dog. So, this morning’s life lessons began with the thought
of cleaning out my car from my recent beach trip. I had a camping chair in the
backseat of my car that had to be removed. With my beach chair over one
shoulder and my gym bag over the other, I started down the driveway toward the
gated fence. Just yesterday, I came through the back gate carrying only my
small computer bag and there was just enough space for little Houdini, aka Pappy,
to slide by my legs and take off like a little muscly, black rocket bolting
across the manicured front lawn, rows of monkey grass, around the large shrubs
that frame either side of the driveway and out of sight. Even with this recent
experience, I mindlessly entered the gate toting as much as I could, for efficiency’s-sake.
Needless to say, an escape artist made his way around my feet. Surprised that
it was the caramel colored rescue Buddy and not Pappy, I turned around; at
which point all three dogs made a break for it. I hurried in the back door and
up the stairs, grabbed the leashes and headed out the front door while I
thought, “Gees, it would’ve been so much easier to come through the front
door…. Do I take my car like Phil did yesterday when Pappy escaped? Nah, I
don’t want to get dog smell in my car.” After making my way down the street on
foot, I realized why my amazing, Eagle Scout stepbrother took his truck. Dogs
are quicker than humans, at least those dogs and this human! I returned to the
house for my car and prayed the dogs did no get out of sight before I could
catch up with them. Or worse, make their way to the main roads. I caught up
with them and the games began. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I would get out of the car and edge closer to the dogs while
calling for them, being mindful not to shut the door all of the way in case the
doors decided to automatically lock and leave my running car locked in the
middle of the street with the extra set of keys in the center console. (Lesson
1: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not keep extra set of keys in your
car.) I was able to get little Houdini on the first round and coaxed him to hop
into the backseat of my car. I then attempted to catch the other two creatures
and they bolted once I was within arm’s length. I quickly hopped back in the
car and made my way to the end of the block. We were now only two blocks from a
main road. Feeling a mild anxiety growing, my mind started to race, “Would I
ever be able to catch these dogs?” At the time, I couldn’t remember their
names, so I couldn’t call for them with anything other than a sweet voice and
terms of endearment. </div>
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As they approached the end of the street, I felt my anxiety
grow. I drove down to the end of the street and parked horizontally to produce
a mental barrier for the dogs. It seemed to work, they turned around and
started heading the other way. They made there way down the block at which
point I returned to the car and removed it from blocking the path of any
mid-morning drivers. Pappy sat in the backseat awaiting the reunion
with his friends who he could undoubtedly hear frolicking in the streets.
Success! Hearing the whines of his caged friend, the furry black dog that looks
like a small grizzly bear approached the front passenger door. Throwing my
vehicle into park, I leaned over to open the front door. She jumped into the
car and I pulled the door shut. She then climbed over the middle console, pulling
with her front paws, clicking her nails and kicking her back paws as she
struggled to gain traction to join her friend in the back seat. All I could
think was “Oh gees, my leather.”</div>
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Returning my focus to the task at hand, I slowly edged down
the street. An idea popped into my head, “I could use one of these dogs to coax
Buddy into the car. I put the car in park, grabbed a leash and took the tiny
grizzly from the back seat. As I shut the door, Sweetie was tugging on her
leash. The tugging stopped and I realized I had a leash connected to a collar
minus a small grizzly bear. Sweetie trotted back to meet her friend and I
watched as the two escapees happily cantered away. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Ever the optimist, I decided to herd the dogs like sheep. I
skillfully maneuvered my compact car, driving the escape artists around the
corner and down my brother’s street. It worked! As they caught sight of the
house, they darted towards the back fence. Momentarily leaving the 3<sup>rd</sup>
dog in the car, I quickly opened the gate and let the dogs in. I returned to
the car and grabbed Pappy, returned him to his friends and chuckled about my
inefficient morning as I climbed the back stairs and entered the cool house.
All’s well, ends well. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Not so fast, the fiasco continued. “Ahhhhh!!!” I
scream as the black bullet, Pappy, darts past my feet into the house. “What the
…???” Startled and offended by the encroachment of her territory, my Baby
Sprockets, Queen of Mommy’s Frontier (aka Abigail, my 12 year old, 12 lb
Pekingese), begins to ferociously bark, as ferociously as a dog with a mouth
the size of a walnut can. I know my protective little dog<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8567070769894520286#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a>
and I knew this was not going anywhere good. She then began to snap at the feet
of this dog that is three times her size. The growl in Pappy’s bark grew as he
began to fight back. I firmly pushed Abigail out of harm’s way as she slid
across the wooden floors and came to rest abruptly and rather forcefully
against the piano bench. I grabbed Pappy by the collar and guided her out of
the house and out the back door. When I returned to the room where the fight
took place, Abigail was still crouched up in the spot where she came to rest
with a look of a bruised ego in her eyes. I scooped her up and we cuddled while
I reminisced on the morning. (Lesson 2: Sometimes it is necessary to push those
away that we love in order to keep them from harm. They</span>
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-</style><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">often do not understand at the time, but time
and love heals most things.) After a few minutes of cuddling, Abigail was ready
to play! </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zzFvGxcHo668atqBBTg7F0bRF0GnvRwfFT9Dp5SEsI9-JcdNmIUCxV9ooeB1d6tUUVKIADVk_72lsgMryOdJYG0l_C3fAOHWDw7j1uWunU7NMAeDT8V-v2dyihrj4XJaABcyhfqgBQPi/s1600/Abbers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zzFvGxcHo668atqBBTg7F0bRF0GnvRwfFT9Dp5SEsI9-JcdNmIUCxV9ooeB1d6tUUVKIADVk_72lsgMryOdJYG0l_C3fAOHWDw7j1uWunU7NMAeDT8V-v2dyihrj4XJaABcyhfqgBQPi/s1600/Abbers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Recap of Life’s Lessons Learned Today: <br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Do not keep your extra set of keys in the car.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Sometimes it is necessary to push those away
that we love in order to keep them from harm. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Overarching
Theme: </b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Awareness/Mindfulness</i> – If
we take the time to slow down just a little and encourage ourselves to be
present in our actions and thoughts, we can be more efficient and effective.</div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>
<br />
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8567070769894520286#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a> <span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pekingese</span><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> get their name from the ancient city
of Peking, now called Beijing. Pekingese were held sacred in ancient China and
could only be owned by royalty. At that time, the punishment for stealing a
Pekingese was death. Pekingese came to Europe as a result of war. When the
British overtook the Chinese Imperial Palace in 1860, they returned home with
several of the dogs. Pekingese are fiercely loyal and protective of their
owners.</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-23257555141363633622013-08-05T13:49:00.003-07:002013-08-15T18:45:47.398-07:00Quote-Like Thotz<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“<i>Eventually a social butterfly's wings get tired and it finds a
place to rest.</i>” </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> -</b> August 5, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“<i>Is the opposite of faith (defined as belief without
evidence), disbelief despite reality?</i>” </b> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- August 1, 2013</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"<i>There is a thin line between arrogance and confidence.</i>"</b> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Sometime in 2007</span></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I remember walking the from the main building to the pre-owned sales store in order to attend to my daily duties. I will spare any reader the mind-numbing details of my "big-brother duties" as administrator for the CRM system. Instead, I will jump right ahead to the origin of this piece of food for thought.</span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a man in his late twenties with neatly cut hair, who was usually clean-shaved or </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">sported a light 5 o'clock shadow. He typically dressed in dress slacks, a button down shirt and an argyle sweater vest. If this doesn't paint a clear image, envision a J Crew model; that's him. I was painfully shy around him, not just because of his looks, but because of his intelligence and his confidence; or, was it arrogance? He often sat around with his feet kicked up on a desk while doing a crossword puzzle. He had this sort of freedom because he was a top performer. I will never forget the day his humility shined through and his confidence became apparent. I developed a new found respect for him.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />All of the guys were standing around "ragging" on each other as they often did. I walked in just in time to hear someone say to the argyle-clad guy, "<i>Dude, if your girl told you to jump, you would ask how high</i>?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He shrugged his shoulders, smirked ever-so-slightly and with a twinkle in his eye he responded, "<i>So what. I love her</i>."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08454576465228557943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567070769894520286.post-25293447995162335962013-07-25T06:27:00.003-07:002013-09-09T07:18:03.384-07:00Thoughts on Karma...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thoughts on Karma......(began June 30, 2013...developed today)</div>
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Our intentions are the clearest way to determine the energy
we put out into the world. It was in 2004 that I remember feeling this for the
first time. I gave a gift* and it came from a place of obligation. I realized
that if I gave a gift from a place of guilt, it lost its full potential. I
didn’t feel good about giving it and I was a little resentful. The receiver may have
still used it to its fullest functional life, but the act of giving can always
be a gift to the giver as well. </div>
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In my opinion, the often overused and under realized idea of Karma is like gift giving. It is our intention we put out into the world with our actions, thoughts and our words. I have often felt guilty for my thoughts. I don't necessarily mean them, but they pop up and I find myself thinking, "Am I really such a terrible person for thinking this? Am I only tricking myself into believing I am kind and compassionate?" This is something I have wrestled with for quite some time and I have come to accept that <i>Thoughts Happen</i>. What we do with them is entirely our choice as is most anything in life. These ideas of choice/free will and whether or not we are predetermined to be good or not-so-good people brings up a a parable that I often cite and draw on. I am not sure where along the way I picked it up or who to credit it to. However, I envision a sage; an old Chinese teacher with round spectacles propped upon his nose. His thick, silver overgrown eyebrows rest on the top of his spectacles as he squints over his pupils who vary in age and size. All of the students sit at their desks with tablets and sticks of chalk as they await the answer to the question posed by a precocious boy about the age of five who struggles to reach the top of his one-size fits all chair-desk combination. </div>
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"Teacher, what determines if a man is good or bad?" The teacher replies, "Student, within each person lies twin dogs. One good, one bad. They fight. Whichever one wins determines the outcome of the person's character." The student quickly perks up and says, "But what determines which dog wins?" The teacher smiles deeply and knowingly, squinting his eyes ever more tightly and says, "Whichever dog practices more." </div>
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The meaning of this to me is that we all have the potential to be better human beings. The flipside of this is we have the potential to be not-so-good people if we are not present in our actions and our thoughts. We cannot control the impact of our thoughts, words and actions, but we can be aware of our intentions behind them.</div>
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* A gift can be words of praise, a blender, time, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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Webster’s definition:</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1
:</span></b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> a notable capacity,
talent, or endowment </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2
:</span></b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> something
voluntarily transferred by one person to another without compensation </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3
:</span></b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> the act, right, or
power of giving </span></div>
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