Number 10

Life is sexually transmitted.

Number 9

Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Number 8

If you are wondering how to please a man just remember this simple rule: men have two emotions Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, either give him a good reason to have one or make him a sandwich.

Number 7

Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day. Teach a person to use the Internet and they may not bother you for weeks, months, maybe even years.

Number 6

Some people are like a Slinky…not really good for much of anything but entertainment…so it’s a big smile if they ever flip over backwards for you.

Number 5

Health nuts may one day feel silly when they find themselves lying in the hospital, dying of nothing.

Number 4

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

Number 3

Why does a slight tax increase cost you many hundreds or thousands of dollars, and a substantial tax cut saves you maybe…thirty?

Number 2

In the 60’s, people took acid to make the world seem weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it seem normal.

And …Number 1?

Life is like a jar of Jalapeno peppers–what you do today, might burn your ass tomorrow.

My personal advice is to stay calm and….

.“Don’t worry about old age–it doesn’t last that long.”

….(especially if you decide to cycle backwards  !!!)….


 AND…How I Got Here.

I once, subscribed to a spiritual training that provided me with many important concepts and leanings, but it was also quite polarizing.  I had already been practicing Polarity Therapy as a healing art for years before it dawned on me what, about that training, didn’t work for me.  From the first introduction to the last disappointment there were resonate and useful learnings, which fueled my curiosity and propelled me to further inquiry, but more often I witnessed and experienced discordant and disenfranchising victimization.  Nuance and shades of grey were deeply frowned upon, but the idea and practice of ‘versus’ was exalted.

The general focus was always on the problem of being human which was thought of as pathological, sick and wrong.  The grand struggle required to overcome this sad reality involved complicated levels of energetic warfare used to eliminate fear while simultaneously instilling it. The lofty goal was nothing less than clearing all pathology blocking one’s ascension.  This was tricky, and didn’t transfer easily to one’s usual social and family situations, which were often thought to be the core of one’s greater problems.  It was a lot of work, a struggle, which we were taught was necessary for enlightenment. Little emphasis was placed on pleasure and enjoyment. I didn’t fully catch the deeper confusing dichotomy inherent in those teachings until I saw them in the rear-view.

Toward the end of that entrenched time, I happened onto another system, with much less complicated, much more fun And engaging methods for overcoming fear And blocks to success, happiness And enlightenment.  This one offered an exciting array of practices that once understood And experienced could be reduced to catchy sound bite phrases that were easy to remember and implement.  It was invigorating, rejuvenating And useful.  Being human was considered delightfully obvious And natural, something to be grateful for.  It was an adventure AND refreshing.  I enjoyed it.

The first was meditative, cerebral, spanning a number of years with me commuting to my closed community before my disenchantment overruled.  The second was complete within a couple years of action packed activities And a changing cast of characters.

The first saw every situation as this or that, good or bad, right or wrong, pass or fail, all or nothing and itself as a service, a savior to all of creation.  The second allowed much more personal leeway And room to explore one’s own version of success And happiness. Enlightenment the delightful byproduct of becoming a better person more equipped to be of service to humanity.

Both banged dents all up in my wallet.

Some time later came the massive download…it was unsought, delivered free of cost AND changed everything. I was driving home from Canada with my daughter, after a thrilling exhausting white water river rafting trip.  We had just crossed the border into the States, when suddenly I had the sensation that both my head AND heart were expanding, exploding, AND at the same time I was completely able to drive as if nothing at all were occurring. As the sensations became more intense, I had no idea what was happening AND I had no fear, I intuitively knew that I was physically fine. I felt a sense of excitement when I suddenly realized that I was downloading a new operating system.  My physicality was highly electrically magnetically charged, vibrating and expanding AND yet my essence, my self was calm, serene, receptive.  As the download continued AND became more intense I was fascinated with all the processes happening at once…driving became a distraction.  We pulled off the road for an ice tea on the patio garden of a bistro.  I couldn’t speak and my daughter knew to simply sit with me.

It took months to be able to coherently articulate what had changed.  I began to call it The AND Operating System.  During the initial download, all the obvious polarizing concepts, words, thought patterns were deleted and replaced with AND.  For instance words like But and Or disappeared, replaced by AND, This or That became This AND That.  The change was good AND changed everything.  As time passed AND I became  accustom to the more subtle aspects of how it worked, I experienced greater ease AND serenity, inclusivity AND reconciliation, more love AND less angst, a broader view AND an acceptance of narrowed certainty, the straight line between poles began forming circles of acceptance.

It no longer matters to me how AND why it happened to me AND what it has led to.

The world continues to spin as it did before AND I see that we are all humans here, having a spiritual experience AND spirits here, having a human experience… correct as it is…integrated in the balance of how it manifests for each of us …AND it’s all good…AND…there is Much More than meets the eye.  Open your eyes And see…Open your hearts AND feel.  Witness the Extraordinary in each expanded moment.  We are all here for a purpose.  We can’t really make a mistake, although some paths are easier, more pleasurable than others.  There is always a chance and a choice to change direction when spirit moves. No Regrets.

Doing Despair

Doing Despair


 Life is pretty good.  Things are better than just Ok.  At least compared to the wretched scenes of natural mass destruction, chaos, war, poverty, political confusion and complicated issues heard nightly in the newscasts.  At least for me and for most the people I know.  At least at the moment.

There are, of course, the good news networks, rags and writings that, in spite of it all, radiate hope and solutions, so necessary to the counterpoint.  And I’m grateful for that.  But I’m not fooled.  Because behind, under or alongside all that appears to be going well, no matter what they say, or I tell myself, there is despair.  The daily deal is how to do it.

That’s my plight and it’s luxurious. Really?  A plight that’s luxurious?  Yes, because I am lucky enough to be spared most of what would send me spiraling into a despair that I can’t climb out of.  So far.  That’s a luxury compared to so many; in Japan, Haiti, Africa, or the barrios and ghettos of the world. I can get around it, put it where it belongs, but I still know it’s there.  I can feel it.  There is just no way to end it, stop it or ignore despair.  It exists.  It’s always just around the bend.

There but for the grace of God, go any of us.  And even with God’s merciful grace overall, no one entirely escapes despair.  People we love become ill, suffer and die.  People we know have terrible things happen to them.  The daily deal is how to do despair while simultaneously doing hope or optimism or even simple acceptance of what essentially IS.

Despair feels like the shadow government of my life.  It works behind the scenes, is exempt from the usual rules, doing what it will when it wants without regard to free will.  I cannot deny this shadow.  I can’t pretend, for long, that it has no hold on me.  I can, however, from time to time, with Very Great Determination, put it in it’s place:  behind me.  Still, the truth is that the most I can do on any given day is position despair beside me.  And I’ll admit I prefer to keep an eye on it, know where it is, what it’s up to, so that it isn’t as able to catch me unawares, roll over me, buckle my knees, or break my heart more than a few times a day.

That’s just how I do despair on a daily basis.  And I am so blessed and grateful to have lived this long and still be able to keep pace.  Today is my birthday and it is a luxury I am not taking for granted.  And I’m happy, because despair has apparently decided to throttle back and allow me a carefree celebration in a sunny paradise, even though I am aware it is still lurking in the shadows.  Thank You.  Stay put.

My Writes

My Writes

“…whatchu know ‘bout my writes?

Whatchu  know ‘bout what’s weak, what’s tight…?”

My Writes from Art Official Intelligence….de la Soul

This is about writing.  I found some old journals.  One from 2001, the other from 2003.  I read them last night and had no qualms whatsoever about tossing them in the trash.  They were written in really lovely books that I probably purchased from T.J. Maxx, but that didn’t’ make them any more palatable. And  I learned something:  When I’ve journaled, it’s only for the angst. Months of happiness go by undocumented, a couple days of despair all sound the same and get recorded like a stutter. Those journals could have been written in 1971, 1981 or 1991…the general theme is always the same, first and foremost pitiful, then optimistic.  The nature of my nature.  First comes the whining, then the inevitable talking myself out of it.  I will never journal again. I write for pleasure now.

I think I actually do love to write.  But I may not have the nature of a true writer.  I’m probably a little too hyper-action oriented with too vast an array of other interests.  I’ve read that writers, by nature, are obsessed with writing. The isolating concept of tapping away on my computer for hours or days, the constant thinking about things to write about, agonizing about how to write them, despairing about how they were written, taking notes of new ideas and sticking them someplace I can find them, living in a waking-life where everything becomes a storyline, even recording crap about things on a walk…I do as well.  I just won’t do it consistently, the way I’ve read that writers must, to actualize their craft.

I have a friend who actually writes for a living.  He says that real writers, are obsessive word geeks, neurotic, narcissistic, who can think only of writing, agonize over writing or not being able to write, are afraid that even if they are consistently writing, they may not be able to do it tomorrow and I’ve met other writers, as well, who seem to adhere to this model.  They’re weird like that, I’m not.  But I really like to write, and when I feel like it, I like to spew.  I don’t really care if anyone else enjoys, can tolerate, or appreciates my spew, although I admit to liking it a lot when someone does.  If I feel like it, I do it and will keep doing it until I don’t feel like it.  Then I stop doing it and do something more interesting.

But I’m writing right now, aren’t I?  And I’m thinking ‘bout My Writes, in a very self-absorbed way, just like a professional writer might.  I have a lot on my mind.  And now that some people know I am writing, like seriously for fun, they are suggesting things I could write about next.  I have my own huge list already.  It’s doubtful I will live long enough to expound upon all the funny and fascinating vignettes and stories and recollections I have salvaged from my day to day.  They elicit a grin just thinking about how rich and interesting every minute continues to be.  But what actually captures my attention, slams my butt into the chair and fingers onto the keyboard to spew, is not something I can usually decide.  It decides itself and then spews of it’s own accord.  I merely become my own editor then.  I have forced discipline, created deadlines, and I found that I can actually do that, but it isn’t the same pleasure of a creative burst.  It can feel more like doing taxes.  I’ll do it though, because writers are supposed to if they are serious and I am seriously interested in having fun writing and becoming a better writer.  My literary hero, Tom Robbins, when asked if he ever gets ‘writer’s block’, shared that he gets up every morning prepared to write.  His muse knows where to find him.  If She doesn’t show, he heads out for a coffee.  I like that.  I can resonate with that.  At this moment I’m focused on what’s weak, what’s tight.

“…we’re flat out classic…separate the real from the plastic…”

FaceBook is an example of both.  That dandy social utility is designed for spewing.  Coffee in the morning, at the FB Café, is just for the pure pleasure of the spew for me.  It’s a spew outlet mall for millions. Witness and celebrate the change mongering, info-sharing, wiki-leak-like transparency and revolutions fueled by The Mighty FB!  Now, I am aware that some of my fellow voyeurs actually read the shit I post, but most ignore it or hide it, and some have even flat out ‘Un-Friended’ me, whereas I tend to be lenient with the spew of others on FaceBook.  If I’m not interested, I scroll on by.  But often I am interested and not only because I am easily entertained.  I have learned a lot from other’s posts. ‘Un-Friending’ seems minimally reactionary, drastic, and radically intolerant, a big unfriendly what-ev.  I don’t really care.  I utilize the utility for my passionate ideological spews.  I do it because I can and I have the right to My Writes.  It’s a true virtual democracy.  Everyone can spew their two cents of graffiti on the wall if they feel like it.  I was once told that because of my tendency to spew my personal bias, I have lost credibility.  Isn’t that hilarious?  With whom?  I answer to myself.  What anyone else thinks is their own business and bias.  That’s the freedom we’re fighting for, that’s the social justice we’re trying to preserve, That’s the freedom to think and express that the oppressed world thirsts for.

“…and I don’t gotta name no names, play no games…

fuck it all up,  take the blame…”

My Writes are my own pleasure.  If other’s enjoy or benefit from them, I’ll pat my own back.  If not, I’ll take the heat.  An idea, once it grabs a passionate hold in my mind, will likely find it’s way out.  I’m just exercising My Writes.  And I now consider myself a writer, my nature adapting to the call, whether I am received or not, because I am writing.  And I won’t stop.

(this spew is starting to sound a lot like a stream of consciousness blog…like maybe The Rumpus.  I admire Stephen Elliott for his unedited deeply personal daily spew.  He recently posted that someone had asked W.H. Auden, “Is it true that you can write only what you know?”  And Auden said, “Yes it is.  But you don’t know what you know until you write it.”  Then Stephen added, “Writing is a process of discovery of what you really do know.  You can’t limit yourself in advance to what you know, because you don’t know everything you know.”  He is a writer and definitely weird, for sure.  But I’m not.)

de la Soul/My Writes:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIfB7q91WUY

Speeding Toward A Surprise Ending

Thinking overly, fantasizing about one’s demise might be considered sick and wrong.  We will, however, all meet our demise at some point, so I feel it’s appropriate to consider it from time to time.  Unless we can overcome it.  And wouldn’t that take a miracle?  That could require becoming an Avatar.  Maybe it might even be a possibility if we aren’t addicted to, or insistent upon, lugging our current form with us.  These are the streams of consciousness one might drift in while, or after, witnessing someone else’s demise. This is a sea of imagination one might bob in when faced with the uncertainties of living.  Well, at least it’s an eddy I’ve found myself swirling around in from time to time and more often lately.

And these are also the kinds thoughts one might indulge in while, or after, watching the Nightly News, with it’s sensational tales of death, destruction and endless demise. For instance; consider earthquakes and tsunamis, this weekend’s magnetic super moon pull on the tides and earth and the fluids in our brains, or the unsavory information regarding HAARP, or the lack of potassium iodide on the shelves here the pacific northwest, which we wouldn’t care about except for the nuclear whiffs coming in from Japan, or the economic meltdown, which is itself a rolling blackout for many all over the world, or another troublesome US meddling in the middle east, or say, an uneasy personal medical report or how about a ‘dreaded’ diagnosis.  I’m talking thoughts about the kinds of things that can change everything at a moment’s notice.

This is the kind of roiling turmoil that might make contemplating a Thelma & Louise moment attractive unless one over thinks the ending.  To contemplate this with any success, you need a car and an ability to embrace a twist of fate or two.   And it helps to have a taste for whiskey.  If one has a really nice car like I do, then one feels more than just slightly remiss and wasteful in imagining it careening off a cliff.  It’s in good shape with low miles and has not taken the road trips that it was meant for at the purchasing.  I have been thinking about cliffs I could careen my car off without scratching it on the way down.  They’re difficult to find in everyday life.  Then there is the issue of the messy and irresponsible carbon footprint of toxic fluids, plastic and metal left in the wreckage at the bottom of the crevasse, not to mention bits of re-usable body parts and spilled plasma.  How could I have anything but remorse about leaving a premeditated ecological anti-ideological legacy like that in my wake?  I can’t.

Still, I like the idea of deciding when and how I might say adios y hasta luego in my own chosen moment rather than some scenarios that I have intimately witnessed in recent times and still others that cross my mind when I watch CNN.  It’s not that I think about all this very often.  But sometimes I do.  Sometimes I like to.  I’ve always been partial to freedom of choice.

I may be more of a Thelma than a Louise, but I have lived a little Louise as well and am not remotely interested in that again.  So what would Thelma do if she’d had more enlightenment, more concern for the common global good, and still planned to careen toward her demise with panache?  Channeling Thelma, weaving certain aspects of her thought processes into mine, provides me with another context in which to give this strange Life and also it’s demise, a fresh look-over. How does Life’s demise look from this beautiful interesting and awkward angle?

Well, because of the issues of the nice car and it’s viable re-sale value, the carbon imprint nuisance, the bit of enlightenment and the issues around the common global good I possess and must contend with, coupled with the fact that I’m not partial to Wild Turkey, I have decided to abandon my Thelma and Louise option of demise and turn my attention instead toward The Never Ending Story. Once over a cliff, it’s over.  Questing, activism and mysteries, even if apocalyptic, appeal to me more.

I may have been fortunate to have inherited a flair for optimism, fascination and amusement from that man who thought he couldn’t die but did, Jack Wood.  Of course, he loved whisky.  And cars.  Driving them fast.  Plus he scoffed at the virtues of organics or the importance of recycling, so I doubt leaving a carbon imprint would have bothered him much.  He lived large but  in the end, boxed himself into a corner in front of a giant TV screen, unable to get to his car, abandoned in the garage. He didn’t leave himself much option to choose his ultimate demise.  But then I guess one way or another, we are all speeding toward a surprise ending.

Keeping Score


Keeping Score

“Take someone who doesn’t keep score,
who’s not looking to be richer, or afraid of losing,
who has not the slightest interest even
in his own personality:  he is free.”



Keeping Score.  We all do it.  None of us are Free.

If we feel we’ve won or lost in any event, we have kept score.  If we’ve paid more or less, we’ve kept score.  If we’ve tried and failed or succeeded, we’ve kept score.  If we’ve given and expected to receive, we’ve kept score.

Keeping Score.  We all do it.  None of us are Free.

Even if we strive to be altruistic, forgiving, unattached, magnanimous, open and sharing, there is always buried, maybe deeply and secretly in our minds or hearts, a score card.  Keeping score has tinges of that nasty word; judgment associated with it.  Keeping Score and judgment have an element of jealousy and emotional charge woven through them.  An assessment, however, a reporting of non passionate fact would not seem to belong in this category of score keeping.  But as we know, now that we dwell in the information saturated world wide web, so called facts can be assembled to look like an assessment and still be tainted with a subliminal scoring mechanism of motive, agenda and influence.

Keeping Score.  We all do it.  None of us are Free.

Today is Super Bowl XLV Sunday.  An American institutionalized day of keeping score.  The build up to this Big Very Important Game is many other kinda important games where everything hinged on The Score.  Even if we don’t give a fig about the Super Bowl, it is almost impossible to Not know who is playing.  Today the glory hinges on The Score between the Steelers and the Packers.  For those who care passionately, it’s a good thing at least for a couple of hours.  There is Hope.  There is the gathering of like minds.  There is celebration.  There is food and drink.  There are the famous commercials and this year there is The Black Eyed Peas !!! at half time  Half time is a good enough reason for caring about the game.  Half time itself, isn’t interested in keeping score.  (but there is a web-link where we can score our favorite half time shows over the years…so we can still stay in the game of scoring if we must)

Keeping Score.  We all do it.  None of us are Free.

Happy Super Bowl XLV Sunday to Us All.

And may The Team with the Highest Score WIN

2010 in review

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads This blog is on fire!.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A helper monkey made this abstract painting, inspired by your stats.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa has 296 steps to reach the top. This blog was viewed about 1,100 times in 2010. If those were steps, it would have climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa 4 times


In 2010, there were 24 new posts, not bad for the first year! There were 5 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 1,016kb.

The busiest day of the year was May 7th with 64 views. The most popular post that day was What Do Mothers Really Want On Mother’s Day?.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, mail.yahoo.com, mail.live.com, weeklyvolcano.com, and alphainventions.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for http://www.hereinthe253.wordpress.com, marsha lichorowic, hereinthe253.wordpress.com, and hereinthe253.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


What Do Mothers Really Want On Mother’s Day? May 2010


About March 2010


The Turning Point March 2010
5 comments and 1 Like on WordPress.com,


Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep…I Pray The Lord My Soul To keep May 2010


der mom…the wurld is goin krasy! June 2010