R-T-H: Week In Review 8.31

Sometimes, all it takes is a little money and pain in order to find an answer ~the answer~ that carries the potential to completely change your life.

For me, this week, it was spending a little money on a CardioPoint test at the gym.

What an eye-opener!

OK, so I had to be at the gym at 5:30am and run on a treadmill for 20 minutes wearing this goofy mask.

I never said there would not be tradeoffs.

But, in payment for my social discomfort, I received this cool color graphic analysis.

With that came the key for me: not only of how to dump my seemingly resistant belly-fat but also of how to achieve my goal for my next half marathon in January.

Double the benefit.

Now that my back is mostly healed, and armed with my new knowledge, I am ready to kick butt in the upcoming weeks on my way to reaching my sub-2 hour half marathon goal AND slim back down to where I was before my life took control of me.

Bring it!

Resources

No doubt that the presence of hope leads to the feeling of peace.

And, a sense of peace is good, as fleeting as it can be at times.

Hope can be lost when there is a perception of a lack of resources to get to a resolution.

Resources are manifest in support from friends and family, a place to live, food to eat, reliable transportation, money...anything, really.

When these resources are insufficient, or unavailabe, where do you turn?

First, pray. For what you think you need. For a clearer picture of what God has planned for you. What you think you need is not necessarily what you REALLY need to get you to where He wants you to go. For guidance. For resolve.

Second, be patient. Patience is key. The resources are there, somewhere. You just haven't identified or found them...yet.

Third, be positive. Negative thought is an endless spiral into an abyss that can be more difficult to escape from than the problem itself.

Fourth, broaden your scope of perception. The resources to get you through whatever you are struggling against now could be right around the corner, or veiled behind something. Open up your mind to new possibilities.

Fifth, listen to advice, both solicited and unsolicited. One of the most beautiful ways that God has in place to help us through life is via the people HE places in our lives. Many times, even the situations we find ourselves in. This is one of the many ways in which He communicates with us. Respect that fact by at least listening, considering.

View of your problem through a telescope
 

Think of it as changing your scope from the view you see through your own eyes while looking ahead of you through a telescope....

View of your problem when the telescope is stowed

...to the view all around you when you stow that telescope, turn your head from side to side, maybe even turn your body in another direction. A panoramic view of life that encompasses all the possibilities.

Sixth, breathe. Another skill God endowed all of  us with. No one ever survived by holding his breath. Oxygen is critical; a life-giving element. Deprive the body and brain of oxygen, and the entire organism dies very quickly.

Resources are always available. But, like many things in life for most of us, they are not easily accessible. Not within our immediate reach.

The difficult part is that in a society that has been slowly conditioned towards immediate gratification, the concept of patience, of searching for a resource to satisfy our needs, is becoming an ability lost. When you cease to practice something, you eventually lose the ability to do it.

This works fine when you have at your fingertips every resource you need, especially those involved with simple day-to-day survival. The trick is how will you cope when even the basic needs (remember Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs?) are difficult to attain?

Good question...

Friend?

How do you define friendship? How do you decide when a particular person is a friend? Qualities that come to mind, both from my experience and confirmed by Wikipedia, are:

• mutual understanding and compassion
• the ability to be and express oneself without fear of judgement
• enjoyment of each other's company
• honesty, even in situations where honesty is difficult
• sympathy and empathy
• trust
• the desire for what is best for the other person
• positive reciprocity
• a feeling of comfort and security

Every person will rearrange this list to suit her own desires and needs, even add to it or remove items that are personally irrelevant. Items could possibly even shift as the friendship grows.

What happens then...when the two lists are too different or they become divergent over time?

The obvious, obviously...misunderstandings, discourse, miscommunication.

It is relatively easy to manage the situation when the lists are different from the beginning. There is less emotional relationship and therefore less tugging and pulling as the "friendship" is dissolved.

Where the real pain comes in is when the friendship has already been established based on supposed mutual expectations, and then things change.

Promises made in another light of a past day become harder to keep.

The friendship erodes, or maybe even implodes, but deep concepts like trust and emotional security have to be questioned and re-evaluated.

I wrote a post a few years back called When Friends Turn Away. I continue to strongly believe and maintain faith in God's greater plan for us and who He puts into our lives and why.

It doesn't mean that it all doesn't hurt...sometimes a little, sometimes a lot.

My concept of friendship has been challenged this past week. More than challenged. I think the better term is "rocked my world", and not in a good way. Questions of where I went wrong swirl in my head. As the storm settles, the questions are answered, kind of...and then give way to more questions.

While the tears have come and gone, the wall has gone up. A wall that I thought I had torn down.

I believe that this time, that wall will be up for awhile. It now hurts too much to risk letting it down for anyone else.

With God's help, maybe I can force some peepholes into...at some point. Until then, I pray at the foot of it.

Experience

When I was a young adult, a long time ago, my father told me at some point that in order to truly understand something, anything, one must create a framework in which to view it and, hence, to gain some perspective.

The image I created in my head based on that conversation, a conversation that occurred decades ago, was of an actual frame around a piece of art. I imagined in my head what a piece of art looks like unframed. How it reacts to touch and pressure. A canvas will roll; a litho will roll or bend. If a piece of art is old enough, it may crease or crack. Furthermore, without a frame, it is easier to simply roll that piece of art up and stow it for the future. Slip it under the bed or in some other way discard it. Forget about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

All of these happen when that piece of art is unframed.

But put that piece of art in a frame, any frame...give it structure, purpose, direction. It can then be displayed and actively used. Appreciated and admired. Augmented, even. It could be the piece that starts a collection. A true piece of art.

And so it is with experience. Experience in life is crucial in putting structure to life and the issues that pervade daily life. Experience forms the framework on which one can hang relativity and association.

It doesn't matter the circumstances. Whether it is related to issues of work, or personal strife, or faith...every bit of time and energy that can be spent on gleaning experience is worth the effort.

But, the experience is no good unless it is assembled into some type of frame. Just as four pieces of wood, a bunch of nails, and maybe glue and picture frame wire don't make anything just sitting in a bag fresh from Hobby Lobby. Assemble the frame, attach the wire, insert the art, and hang.

That is the impact of experience. Taking the pieces and putting them together to create something worthwhile and admirable.

Not to mention that every level of experience enables us to look back, nod our heads approvingly, and comment with a smile, "Yep, I made it through that. I can make it through this too."

I have never forgotten the imagery instilled in me that day so long ago. My father was wiser that I ever gave him credit for when he was alive.

In my job as a technical analyst and writer, I see even more how important the experience tidbits are, no matter how small. Because each piece of experience is a stepping stone to the next level of understanding. Another nail in the framework of experience, and hence understanding.

And so I believe it is in life....and in faith. Each bit of success, of "light bulb" moments, properly analyzed and assembled, are the stepping stones, the experience, needed to channel us to successful resolution of our issues and solidarity of our faith.

Perspective

What do you do when you get lost?

Not lost in a good book or lost in his eyes.

But truly lost...confused, turned around, misplaced, misdirected.

Have you ever been lost? Have you ever allowed yourself to lose your way, move out of your element, be the tossed ship at sea in the middle of a storm. Put yourself in a place where you don't see any landmarks you recognize. A place where the GPS is clueless and the neighborhood is changing from posh to poverty. Where you are in unstable and/or unsafe surroundings.

That's the type of lost I am talking about. You can get there by accident, by mistake...or you can choose to go there. Doesn't matter.

A complete loss of perspective. Nothing familiar to grab onto. No breadcrumbs to follow.

What do you do? What have you done in the past? What would you do now?

I guess there are some who choose to wait it out, stay close to what they know. Maybe instead of foraging forward into a scenario they are unsure of, they hang back...afraid, tentative. Do they have perspective? Maybe...but only in terms of the perspective a fish may have of its fishtank. Confined, constrained. No way out. Possibly distorted and myopic. Can't make out much of anything past the boundaries of the glass container. No lush details to expand perspective and outlook on life. (not to mention that a fish can't breathe out of water ~ a topic for another post).

Not really lost...only afraid. Fear holding perspective hostage.

There are expanding variations of this 'cage' metaphor, of course. The barred cage where one can see the outside and the detail but still can't get there. This connotes a certain longing to be free but an inability to break the chains.

If the fish breaks the boundaries of the bowl, like Nemo, or the lion escapes the pride and can roam freely, like Simba, what next?

First, an immediate change of perspective from the comfortable to the distressing. The lines that were drawn within the previous boundaries are broken and ineffective. They either must be re-drawn or extended and tweaked to fit the new environment.


Panic may ensue; questioning of self and purpose. Flight or fight.


Flight will feed the fear and thus strengthen the captor. Fight will break the captor and free the hostage, and hence allow new lines to be drawn.

Drawing these new lines leads to the discovery of new touchpoints, new bread crumbs, new landmarks.

Shortcuts, scenic routes, fresh concepts....

New lines....fresh perspective.

Purging the fear and releasing the hostage.

Baz Luhrmann said it in Everybody's Free: "Do one thing every day that scares you."

What scares you? What makes you feel lost and confused? What makes you uncomfortable?

Do it and free your mind, your soul, to experience a brand new perspective. After all, if you don't do the things that scare you, and you don't open up your perspective, how can you ever hope to find the beauty and perfection, the pure freedom, that God has planned for you?

The Narrow Path

I ran (before 8 a.m., which is a first) this morning for the first time in I don't remember how long ~ at least a month, if not more.

The route I chose is right behind my apartment, parallel to the 3M campus. Easily accessible and short - the whole route is no more than a 3 mile loop. Certainly nothing in comparison to what I have run in the past.

But, I have to start somewhere.

The physical characteristics of the path itself are quite different from what I had been running back in Houston.

Half of the path is a smooth, deserted road, bordered on both sides by brush and wilderness, that leads to one of the local fire stations. It is comforting to know that there are fire trucks within a stone's throw of my apartment. Too bad that fact doesn't make the difference in the apartment management allowing grills in third floor apartments.

The going is easy, albeit on a not so slight grade (it is Austin after all), deserted, and straight.

However, the other half is a narrow, gravel road that runs along the main road that leads to my apartment. And, being a clutz, it is not the type of running I enjoy. I have to pay more attention to my feet instead of my destination.

The flipside of that is it offered up a beautiful metaphor for life. I am best when I am thinking about life metaphorically; reality is sometimes too confusing. Remember Cliff notes? I view metaphors as the Cliff notes for life.

I liked running the smooth, deserted road.

I did not like so much running the gravel path. It was narrow, and didn't allow for much wiggle room or correction. Veer too much to one side, and I end up in the road, in front of car driven by a driver who is distracted by her text and her coffee, maybe even her mascara in the rear view mirror. Veer too much to the other side and I end up in a ditch or a barb wire fence.

Then there is the surface. Rocky, treacherous. At any point, if I place my foot at the wrong angle, I'm going down, into the road, or into the fence.

I can't focus on my destination. Instead, my focus is drawn to my feet. Watching my path to make sure my step doesn't land me on my ass. No one around to pick me up and dust me off, much less scrape me from the surface of the pavement. Every minute I spend watching my feet, is one more minute that my path can get diverted. I can lose my way.

Hence, the metaphor. Everyone I talk to seems to be experiencing this same phenomena: "too many distractions", "it seems like life is getting more complicated", "I can't keep up".

We are all on the gravel path. Without our even knowing, or perceiving, the smooth path we were once on is getting narrower, and rockier. We are not sure where to step next, for fear we will stumble, fall, get run over.

The reflex is to slow down. This is good, and I think a critical element to allowing God into our lives. But the part about looking at our feet to avoid the wrong step is not.

The challenge is to keep your eyes on your destination. Keep your eyes clearly focused ahead.

And have faith in God that He will place your feet in the right places.

Don't get me wrong. Falling, even crashing and burning, it not a bad thing. It is my true belief that it is part of the learning process.

It is the faith that has to drive that process. Not the person.

I made it off the gravel path and onto the sidewalk leading to my apartment. I literally breathed a sigh and for a moment I was content and satisfied.

Sunset in Austin

In a sunset, there can be color, drama and intensity, serenity, hope. Yes, it signifies the end of a day and metaphorically can represent the end to almost anything. With it, after the sunset, comes the hope of a new day and a new beginning. In this sense, a sunset is anticipated and not feared.

A beautiful sunset is sought by many, from an endless array of locations and venues. Many will stop everything they are doing to experience a beautiful sunset.

A sunset can be divided into three parts: the events that lead up to it, the sunset itself, and the dawn that follows it.

The events that lead up to the sunset are, by definition, the spinning of Earth on its axis and the specific combination of gases and particles in the atmosphere. These create the sunset and its color and intensity ~ or at least that is what I remember from physical science, with the understanding that science is NOT my forte. Applied to everyday life, those 'gases' and 'particles' as they are represented in our lives as we live them every day can be mellow or intense, represented by an argument with the boss, a missed credit card payment, an injured child. Any of the typical things that each of us experiences regularly.

The events in our lives can also be positive and invigorating, like a walk on the pier with a best friend, or an email from a long lost relative.

These are the particles and the gases....

The sunset itself represents the end. Whether you view it as a grateful ending to a horrific day, a calm refuge that you can escape into, or a culmination of the perfect day....a sunset is the end. The word 'end' does not have to be negative...or absolute.

Because on the other side of the sunset, the end, comes the dawn, and a new beginning. A new day, a new life, a new thought, a new perspective. Key word: NEW. Refreshed, invigorated, revitalized.

Tonight, I am truly experiencing a beautiful sunset in Austin. I have weathered the good and the bad of my day, actually the past years leading to this. Everything from watching my children mature and in fact thrive through a horrific set of circumstances that they had no control over, to stubbed body and bruised egos, to new friends and fresh perspectives. Murphy's Law tried to rule me over and over and over and over.....

Like I said, particles and gases. Some good, some bad. It has been difficult to wade through at times.

But, I sit here on the patio of my new place, on the walkway to a new dawn of a new life. In a few days, I will be able to look back and truly experience the sunset in all its luster.

Better still, I will be able to look to the dawn...and with it more sunsets.

Father

That word...FATHER...is such a powerful word.

A word, like many words, that will have varied degrees of meaning to every person. Every person will view the concept of "father" through his or her own filter, whether based on faith, experience, expectation, illusion. Most likely a potpourri of all of these.

The literal meaning of the word "father" is easy: a man who raises a child. The child does not necessarily have to be his biological child. He is the one who raises that child, guides him through life. Each of us has a father, whether biological or not, who helped raise us (for good or for bad) from children to adults.

The connotative meaning of "father" can be drawn from that. Some descriptions that I came up with, based on my experiences with and memories of my own father and the fathers of my friends: strength, wisdom, and leadership. For some, the term "father" might usher descriptions such as forgiveness, compassion, and kindness.

History uses the term to refer to a creator of new ways of thought or process. Herodotus is considered the "father" of history and Galileo is considered the "father" of modern science.

The biblical meaning of the word "father" is "good". The church refers to God as "Father".

I think we all get the idea. It seems like an almost impossible task to be a father. No wonder so many men struggle with it.

Most succeed at it, in the end, even when they think they failed. Their children are testament to that as they declare that their father is the best in the world.

Some don't succeed quite as well. Yet, their children will still find a way(s) to uphold and uplift them.

And, following in the connotative sense of the word, there are men out there who are not fathers in the literal sense of the word (e.g. did not create the life), but who represent fathers in a connotative sense. They are, for many, role models and heroes. In a sense, surrogate fathers. They are no less of a "good" influence than biological fathers. They provide a sense of strength, wisdom, and direction to those who are seeking it.

This is their day as well.

I end with a poem that I found at Ellen Bailey Poems. It is a tribute to ALL fathers: biological, adopted, surrogate, role models.

A Father Like You

Father poems

I just want you to know you mean the world to me Only a heart as dear as yours would give so unselfishly. The many things you've done, all the times that you were there, Helps me know deep down inside how much you really care. Even though I might not say it, I appreciate all you do So richly blessed is how I feel for having a father just like you.

Hope

Romans 8:24-25 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

I have a few loved ones who are struggling. Really struggling...with life. Their struggles run the gamut. Struggles of the heart, the mind, the wallet....all at the same time.

We all have to live our lives. And all of our lives at some point include struggles.

We cannot escape this reality. So we keep plodding on.

But we each have different ways of approaching life's struggles. I believe that how we approach them has a direct relation to their resolution.

Many factors go into any person's approach to their struggles.

• Perspective
• Experience
• Resources, both perceived and real
• Personal demeanor
• Emotional stability
• Problem solving ability
• Support system, family and friends
• Focus
• Determination
• Perseverance

But, the biggest factor of all is HOPE.

Anyone who experiences strife or struggle ~ and, let's face it, that's all of us ~ will fair better with a strong dose of hope. And, like medicine, repeat the dosage until the struggle is over.

Hope alone will not resolve the struggle. It might not even make it easier or quicker. But it can be the force, sometimes the only force, that gets one to the desired result when the struggle gets too painful and unrelenting.

So, back to my loved ones who are struggling...it occurred to me that in situations where their struggle is intense enough where there is nothing tangible I can give them or do for them, that the only thing left is to be part of their support system. What else do I have to offer?

The words don't help anymore...and it has come down to just listening.

What is left? The only thing left is hope.

I proceeded to try to analyze this logically by asking one simple question: How can one offer hope to someone who has lost all hope?

In my research, I encountered a few blogs that were marginally helpful. But, then I ran across a great website that said it all. Check out 10 Ways to Give People Hope! Simple and intuitive.

• Acceptance
• Love
• Appreciation
• Approval
• Connection
• Comfort
• Encouragement
• Respect
• Protection
• Support

Even though the concept of hope is an intangible...and more so for those who have lost or misplaced it, Don Follis succeeds in quantifying it. He has tied it to actions that we can take to help our loved ones.

Thanks to Don's ideas, I have a renewed approach to offering hope to my loved ones who are mired in their struggles at this time.

We are all interconnected in this life. God has placed us in each other's lives for a reason. Those reasons most times are a mystery to us. If the reasons are unclear, it is difficult to understand or be clear on what to do.

Stop trying to understand and just do what Jesus would do...offer love, hope, and a little bit of your own humanity to your brother, your friend.

Prayer Pool

I have posted many times before about prayer, from several different angles.

Have you ever thought about who you pray to? I never did, until this past Sunday when the deacon brought it up in his homily.

He started with the usual prelude about praising God, praising Jesus. Getting away from asking for things and simply giving thanks and praise for what you do have and where you are now.

That sort of thing. Yawn...heard it before.

But then he went in a direction that I had never really thought of before and definitely never heard before. I don't remember the details of what he said, which means you as the reader will be extremely lucky because this post is apt to be short because of my lack of memory.

He brought in the concept of prayer to Mary, to Jesus, to the Holy Spirit, and to God. Not just God. Interesting. I mean, I pray the rosary (being Catholic and all kind of does that to me). But my prayer to Mary consists of a litany of Hail Marys. Nothing more, nothing less...because I figure God is getting the brunt of it.

The deacon introduced the concept of what I comprehend as tiered prayer (maybe I just coined a new phrase???). You pray to the Holy Spirit in order to gain the peace in your day, peace about the things with which you struggle on a daily basis. Things that have become uncontrollable enough to destroy your inner balance.

You pray to Mary for comfort and understanding. Similar to how a child would approach a mother when that child is sad or hurt. If Mary can't resolve it, you and Mary take your issue to Jesus.

You pray to Jesus for guidance in how to follow God's plan. If the 3 of you cannot resolve it at that point, you all proceed to God.

In this sense, prayer can be congregate. In other words, take your concerns to Jesus, to Mary, and if your prayers are not satisfied, together all of you can proceed to the Father for his rendering.

Because, in the end, He is really the only one who knows the grand plan.

My rendering of his homily is very simplistic. And, for non-Catholics, probably somewhat controversial. Hey, at least he didn't throw all of our saints into the prayer pool as well.

In the end, it is just another perspective on prayer. Just something I felt strongly about sharing.

Meet Up Mixup

Quite a few of my friends have dropped the "meetup" concept in my lap over the past few months. One of my good friends actually met someone (someone he began dating shortly afterward, I believe) through a meetup.

In other words, the idea has been positively referred to me from multiple sources. For me, this is a good thing. It spurred me to research them here in Houston. I found a few that I was interested in and, earlier this week, I joined one for concert goers.

A few people wondered why join one here in Houston when I am moving to Austin in such a short time.

My response: Why not? It's not like I won't be back here in Houston on a somewhat regular basis. And, it is a networking opportunity, if nothing else.

As much as I have had to endure it, I always feel self-conscious and conspicuously out of place when I go out alone. I have blogged about my feelings on this topic more than once before. Not sure why I should continue to feel like this. I keep thinking at some point it will become second nature.

Yep...but not tonight.

The venue was a place called Fitzgeralds in Houston. Dark, worn, loud, marginally claustrophobic (or it could have been with more people there). Just the way it should be. 

Scattered loners, just like me, wander around or plant themselves at the bar. They try to look like they belong, try to fit in. I can't help wondering who they are waiting for? What is their reason for being here solo? Then, I figure they are probably thinking the same about me. Or maybe not...

Everyone who comes in during my short 45 minutes of warming the stool is, in my mind, a potential "meetup" groupie.

I approach one guy who is sitting at the bar. He kind of resembles the website picture of the organizer.

Me (at the bar, ordering my second Shiner Blonde): "Your name wouldn't happen to be Brad, would it?"

Him: (pause, for a little too long): "Nooo..."

Me: "Oh, OK. I am supposed to meet a guy named Brad here."

I finish the last mouthfuls of my first beer, swig my second, then turn and walk back to my table.

Of couse, you know that as I walk away my brain is processing that scenario like meat through a grinder: Why his pause? It's a simple question. Did he think I was some psycho? Was he running through his chances of hitting on me? Was he gay and not used to women approaching him? Was he just not in the mood? Was he waiting for someone named Brad too?

No matter. He wasn't my type, and he certainly didn't have the personality to make up for it. Cruel, but true.

Back at my table for one, it suddenly dawns on me that I don't even know what band is playing. There are so many "band" members milling around, some carrying guitars, that I figure something must be starting soon. I look around but there is no indication of who "they" are...until one of the "band" members starts pouring and sorting merchandise out on a table. Even in the darkness, it isn't difficult to see their name: We Were Wolves. They are all identifiable by the matching tattoos on various part of their bodies. If you ever see someone with this tattoo, you can now identify them!

I really wanted to hear their music. If they had begun playing right then, I probably would have stuck around despite the "date" with one of my besties to go see Men in Black 3.

But waiting is not my thing. And I could Google them later. By this time it is already 8:40p. So much for punctual...on the part of both the band and the members of my supposed "meetup".

Another solo experience...another notch on the loner belt. Man, that belt is getting long.

As I walk to my car, I wonder about this whole "meetup" thing. Mixup? Misunderstanding on my part? Flaky people who probably arrived after 9 in an effort to be "fashionably late"?

Who knows....I will give it one more try here in Houston. After all, I am arriving solo, so no substantial difference if I end up solo at the end.

Just chalk it up to another experience.

Poisoning of the Mind

"Peoples minds are like deep wells full of sweet water."

This quote comes from The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King.

Stephen King has always been one of my favorite contemporary authors, if not at times my favorite. Up until now, I could never really tell you why. I just liked his stories.

After re-reading this novel, I now know why: I like his stories. I like the way he tells his stories. I like his characters and how he weaves them so intricately together.

But, most importantly, I like the messages he delivers.

Sure, he has become somewhat macabre and dark as time has marched on. As a writer, I can tell you that some of that comes from inside where part of him feels macabre and dark. Way down deep....

Like the bottom of a well....his well.

I read The Eyes of the Dragon many years ago. In fact, it was probably the book that initially turned me on to Stephen King. My father had suggested it to me. When I read it (way back when) I was young and inexperienced. I read the words at surface level because I had little experience to give them the life and depth with which Mr. King had probably written them. Again, just a good, engaging story.

Re-reading it as an adult has been enlightening and a completely different experience. Chapter by chapter I found snippets of phrases and words that seemed to speak to me on my level and where I am at now.

The previous quote is one of many that hit me hard. Poignant, transformational, yet subtle references to many issues with which I deal now.

We all have a well. And I believe the Divine intent of that well, of its very contents, is sweet and precious.

But "sometimes, when a particular thought is too unpleasant to bear, the person who has the thought will lock it into a box and throw it into that well. He listens for a splash...and then the box is gone. Except it is not, of course, because even the deepest well has a bottom."

The presence of the box in the depths contaminates the water of the well. In any body of water, the things that litter the water sink to the bottom where they can no longer be seen. But those items are still there. If they are not removed, they decay and rot.

"The caskets those evil, frightening ideas are buried in may rot, and the nastiness inside may leak out after awhile and poison the water."

You have all seen what things look like when they have been in the water for too long. From skin, to tires, to cans, to bottles, to medical waste...everything decays. And decay means poison of some sort. If the body of water is large enough, it might be able to sustain itself and its life flow even with the poison floating through it. Even more so if the water is flowing and moving, receiving new water and sending out old.

"The nastiness inside may leak out after awhile
 and poison the water."

The worst decay occurs when the water is stagnant, no flow in or out, no movement, and rotting things in rotting containers sitting at the bottom unknown and unattended.

As it can be with the well of the mind, of the soul. Sometimes it seems easier to just not deal with the thoughts and issues that are too painful. Easier and less painful to put them in a casket and shove it down. Forget about it as it disappears into the depths and is covered over by the day-to-day chaos of life.

Just as the poison of the decaying casket seeps into the water and pollutes it, sometimes irreversibly, the poison of unattended pain and confusion seeps into the mind and the soul and comes out in many destructive ways. Destructive not only to the individual, but to the people and situations that the individual finds herself in. Feeding upon itself, multiplying, intensifying.

Mr. King took this concept one step further with "When the well of the mind is badly poisoned, we call the result insanity." Yes, that is the end game....the final play after the poison wreaks havoc with everything we once held dear.

Everyone has a choice: to create a mind and soul full of rotting things and the poison it creates, killing everything around.OR to create a mind and soul full of freedom and beauty, that impacts others in a positive enriching way, and are testaments to the intent of the Divine creation of man.

In other words, which would you rather be? The dead pond with the floating, bloated fish and other decay from which you want to turn away....or the clean, inviting clear water in which you can see the ripples and in which you want to swim.

Everything is a choice.


I could never understand why my father would read books more than once. Just like I could never understand why he underlined, highlighted, and otherwise took notes in the margin of every book he touched. Even his bible was annotated.

I now understand. Clearly.

What does this all mean? If you have gotten to the end of this post and not fallen asleep yet, I don't need to explain, or at least I hope my message is clear:

• Don't play around with painful thoughts. Deal with them head on. Otherwise, they turn into rotten things that make life miserable. Playing with rotten, poisonous things is not fun and can be even more painful and destructive, not to mention icky.
• Read books more than once, if you have the chance. But do it over time so that the framework that is established in your mind through your experiences is structurally sound enough to eke out every bit of meaning from the words you read.
• Apply what you read if it strikes a chord.

If you have not gotten this far, than I guess you have some homework to do.

You Know You're Getting Old

OLD
OLD
OLD

I know you don't want to hear or see that word. I don't either. But it is a fact.

We are all getting old. OK....maybe not old but older. Than we once were. The word "old" seems so finite and brings to mind the wrinkly geezers that I used to see down in Florida at my grandma's condo. We used to visit every year when I was a kid. I know the geezers are still there because 30 some years later, whenever I visit Florida, dammit if those geezers aren't still hanging around.

As we are getting older, the oblivion of childhood, of high school and college days, is fading further off in the outskirts of our memory, retrieved only during times of duress when dealing with the necessities of raising our high school and college age children.

M-e-m-o-r-i-e-s....yes, Barbra, where are you, sweetheart?

I have blogged once or twice about the onset of age and how I hate to fear it but love to fight it. In my head, I am only half my chronological age. But, let's face it, I can think I am a certain age all I want but eventually I will lose that edge.

But, where is that edge? How is it measured?

Here are some touchpoints that I have begun to use.

• You have been there, and done that. The t-shirt with that motto was made for you.
• You have gained patience. (please see the not-so-small print at the end of this)
• Your arm is not long enough to hold the reading material at the distance that will allow you to read it clearly. Time for reading glasses.
• Your bedtime is your bedtime. NO exceptions.
• You think twice about getting out on the dance floor, even after a few drinks.
• Your daughter more than occasionally feels the need to sheperd you in the search for appropriate fashion.
• You use the term "When I was your age..." far too frequently.
• Your best friend tells you that you are old (with a smile, of course).
• Your kids have been telling you for years that you are old. Somehow it was OK to ignore them, then.
• You think twice about wearing a bathing suit.
• Re-runs of bygone TV series sport clothing and hair styles that you wore at one point and you thought were very stylish. They were....then.
• Your tweezers are your new friend.

There are more. And, they are subjective. Each of us will have a different perspective on what it means to grow older.

The one I like the best is a link that I shared on Facebook a few days ago. It is irreverent, pragmatic, and oh so true: It's not that you build patience as you grow older. You just don't give a crap anymore.

This allows us "old" folks to live out loud, to live real, to live for what and who we are. Damn everything and everyone else.

Here's to growing older....and BETTER!

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

If you have ever been in a cab in either a new or a familiar city, you know that you are putting your hands into someone else's hands. Not only in terms of having to trust the cabbie's driving experience and instincts, but also in terms of trusting that the cabbie is not only going to know his way around the city but will take you there straightaway. No fanfare, no unrequested side trips, no convoluted paths meant to hike up the cab fare and line his pocket.

Really, you have no choice unless you want to walk, drive your own vehicle, or sample the local mass transportation.

The only city in which I have ever taken a cab and felt that my trust was rewarded, on all fronts: London. London cabbies are polite, knowledgable, safe, and trustworthy.

The cabbies of New York City are the exact opposite. Rude, unsafe, risk-taking, shadowy characters who try their shenanigans on the innocent tourists as well as on the locals.

As you can see, my experience with cabs and cabbies spans both ends of the spectrum. From the surface, it seemed like the cab system in New Orleans was organized and on the level. No reason to expect anything but the norm.

...until we got into the cab with Mr. Toad, who proceeded to take us on a wild ride.

Let me first paint the scene.

We had been at Jazzfest all afternoon. We were tired, hot, sweaty, and just wanted to get back to the house to clean up and hang out. When we left the venue and saw the crazy, long line for the organized cab service, we decided to walk the 3 miles back to the house. I had blisters on my feet, so this was extreme...but we both decided we would rather be moving than standing still. I could apologize to my feet later.

Ten minutes later, after having missed a turn, we realized we were not headed in the right direction. The map on the GPS didn't help at all. Do you see a pattern forming here? We turned in what we thought was the right direction but neither one of us was 100% sure.

And then, we saw a cab....and another. The first one waved us off even though his light was on and he had no one in there. That should have been our first clue of trouble.

The next one was reluctant to take us but did, with a brusque attitude. OK...and within a few seconds, he was putting someone else in the van and yelling at us to move to the back of the van.

As he was doing this, he was looking around nervously.....like he had found trouble and was doing something wrong.

In hindsight, this should have been our second clue.

What ensued was a ride with Mr. Toad, who hardly spoke or understood English. Now, neither one of us had too much of an idea of where exactly we were, but when we started seeing the same landmarks and the same intersection, not once, but twice, we figured we were moving in a circular motion. Then, we noticed that the meter was not on.

The real panic, combined with the need to exit immediately, didn't really hit hard until a couple tried to flag Mr. Toad down. Just as the woman was about to get in the van, he began pulling away. The reason? There was a police car in the other side of the intersection. He pulled across the street into the left lane, and made a u-turn going back the way we came, only to pull over about 2 blocks up to pick up what looked like too many people to fit in the remaining seats in the van.

We were stuck in the back of the van. What could we do? So, 4 young women start to get in. Then, a man moves to the back and opens up the rear doors in order to put his suitcase in. Mr. Toad starts yelling at him in some half-intelligible language, trying to tell him he can't get in because there is no more room. As he is yelling his garbled message, he is still nervously looking around. The guy starts yelling back at him. Then, Mr. Toad gets out of the van and hustles to the back.

All I could see on that horizon was police and trouble...

By the grace of God, I guess, the angry man moves away with a last nasty word and hand gesture and Mr. Toad gets back in the van. He turns up the music, blasting a form of nasty dance music to appease the pretty girls, attemps to turn on the A/C but it only blows hot air. The vents are down at our feet. So, as our feet and ankles are roasting, we are held hostage by Mr. Toad, who is rocketing through the streets of New Orleans headed we knew not where. I can't speak for my friend, but if I had been near enough to a door at low enough speeds I may have considered dropping and rolling just to get off the ride.

We hoped Mr. Toad was heading in the direction of the address that we gave him, but found out that he was instead heading to the French Quarter.

Needless to say, we got off of Mr. Toad's wild ride a block away from Bourbon Street and headed to Pat O'Brian's for a hurricane, dinner, and a peace. Ironic that after Mr. Toad's wild ride through the streets of New Orleans that we could find solace on Bourbon Street.

Crazy, but we gave the NOLA cab system another try not 2 hours later and were pleasantly suprised by the courtesy and professionalism of the cabby. He filled us in on the whys and hows of our previous experience with Mr. Toad, confirming our belief that Mr. Toad was clearly breaking the law by doing what he did.

Cabbing it in NOLA will always bring Mr. Toad's wild ride to mind; in fact, cabbing it anywhere will forever be tainted by those moments. But, in the end, we arrived back safely to continue our night with our friends.

The Other Side of Bourbon

Bourbon Street, that is.

What did you say? What other side?

Exactly.

Until last weekend, I didn't know there was another side either. I thought that every time I visited New Orleans, and made the decision to risk a night in the French Quarter, that I was forever doomed to hassle the drunk tourists shoulder to shoulder in skanky, slimy streets. Streets littered with all forms of trash and filth; sidewalks overflowing and sputtering with the homeless, the lost, and the forsaken. Yes, and the tourists trying to blend into the debauchery in their gloss and polish. In their effort to try to blend in, many times they end up becoming a part of it.

Thanks to the daughter of my hostess, my friend and I were initiated into a new experience, a fresh perspective. We became privy to the other side of Bourbon Street: Frenchmen Street.

Getting there was half the fun, I think. Armed with Bourbon Street's Strongest drink in big ass stryrofoam cups, we ventured up Bourbon street, through the gay section, past a very deserted section where no tourist would dare tread. Oddly, I did not feel unsafe; instead I was anticipating what we were about to experience.

Just when we started wondering how much further we were going, we began to hear the beat and vibes of music and street life. More people were converging and moving with us. Soon, there were more people. Not the drunken throngs of Bourbon Street, but the self-assured meandering of people who know an area and are familiar with it.

The complete antithesis of the canvas of Bourbon Street: we were among the locals. 

Or at least that is how it felt, almost immediately. Comfortable. More restrained, if that is even an adjective one can use about anything in New Orleans.

Don't get me wrong. It was crowded. And it was loud. But it was not the chaotic crowd and din of noise that exists down below in the bowels of Bourbon Street. Somehow it even felt cleaner, if only because of the absence of the girls and peepshow entrances that are thrust out on Bourbon Street. Or, maybe I just didn't see them.

We stepped into a colorful bar on the corner and listened to some music. I wish I had gotten the name of the band that was playing because their music was fresh, balanced.

Down the street was an open air market where vendors hawked their trinkets. Unique trinkets in their eyes. Unique in mine as well, until I began to think about 10 years down the road and how a trinket from a craft show has a way of becoming old and faded over time. 

Lights were strung above like a starry canopy.  

It was late, by many standards, and my feet were swelling. We turned back toward Bourbon, back into the bowels. But, somewhere along the way we made the right turn at the wrong time and ended up, at 2am, turned around and wandering in search of the right direction to our car.

Rest assured, our wandering was not aimless. Through the help of a few passers-by and a good sense of direction, we found our car.

For a brief moment, we became locals. I envisioned myself in and around the streets, heading back to one of the quaint bungalows with their brightly colored porticos and worn, comfortable facades.

And, as "locals", we got another view of areas of The French Quarter that most tourists never see.

Isn't that what travel is all about? Seeing and doing things like the locals, experiencing the local fare and flare of life. Being able to see a place from the inside out, instead of the veneer as presented by travel books and guides.

For a brief moment in time, becoming a local. If only in your own mind.

Thanks to my friend and her daughter for a refreshing look at a cliqued venue...and for a truly local experience.

If you are ever in New Orleans and would like to experience this as well, here is a link to more information. It is not to be missed!

Frenchmen Street in The French Quarter.

The Bar Scene

After last night, I am wondering if maybe I do still have it. I am also wondering whether I really want it.

My daughter started her new job last night as a server at a local bar and grill. It is not what I would want for her, but it is a choice she has made for herself. Therefore, I feel the need to support her. More than that, I feel the need to check up on her.

So, I decided to crash opening night last night. She knew exactly what I wanted to do, and why. That's just how we roll. I don't pull punches with my kids. They know where I stand; I know where they stand. A beautiful, symbiotic relationship.

Well, at least it works for us.

I showed up at about 8p to a packed house ~ 80% male. Standing room only. I made my way to the end of the bar, exactly what I told her I would do.

I had no expectations and, honestly, in that atmosphere I imagined I would be simply a shadow. And, I was OK with that. I do not consider myself very social, particularly with people I don't know. Most often, I just like to watch people...and that is what I was prepared to do.

No seats at the bar, unfortunately, so to order my beer I had to wedge myself in between 2 guys. A smile and some conversation achieved that just fine. Within 5 minutes of talking with the guys to my right, one of them was offering me his seat.

Hhmmmmm.....he was just being chivalrous. Probably already under the influence. Shortly after that, within about 5 more minutes, the 3 of us had exchanged names and were discussing...well, the topic didn't really matter.

Within 5 more minutes, I knew where they are from, what they do for a living, where they live. Only a baby step from that to discussing travel, excercise, football, the death of Willie Nelson and its impact on the economy of Texas....

....stuff like that. Then, one of the guys left, my daughter came by and said 'Hi', the other guy went to the bathroom.

What did I do? I turned to the 2 guys on the left with whom I had briefly chatted up when I first sat down. This guy, seeing me order my Sam Adams, tried to convince me (while he was drinking his free Miller Lite...eeewwwww) that the Sam Adams Summer Ale is the best. OK? I proceeded to go through 20 questions to figure out how he could be drinking Miller Lite and be a beer connisseur. It just did not make sense to me.

Of course, his "friend" piped in and before I knew it the 3 of us were bantering away about new babies, teenage kids, and the fact that they had been drinking the free Miller Lite and were on about 7, no 8....

We spent an inordinate amount time trying to guess each other's ages. They were way off on guessing mine, fortunately in the right direction, until they asked my daughter. My daughter is proud of the fact that I look so young but I hate that she gave it away. I would much prefer they continue in the dark with that one.

You get the picture. More guys joined them. The guys at one of my daughter's tables bought me a Sex on the Beach shot and queried me about advice on girls and growing up. They wanted a quick, short, all-encompassing quote from me.

I disappointed them when I said such an animal does not exist....believe me. Moreover, nothing I say or write is ever "quick" and "short".

The landscape changed when my friend showed up. The Miller Lite guy wanted to know almost immediately whether or not he was my husband, boyfriend. WTH? He had a hard time believing me when we both chimed in NO, just friends. And it is his business how?

I guess the answer to whether I still have it, whatever it is, is yes. I can still play the social butterfly in those circumstances. I can still be marginally attractive to the opposite sex. I can still be the recipient of free drinks. I can still have fun.

But, I couldn't help thinking of myself as a stale piece of candy amid a swarm of bugs. I was nothing special in that environment. There were so many of them, and so few sweet things to land on. It was simply a lack of viable options.

Add the alcohol to the mix. Add the question of why are those guys at that bar, how often do they do this, etc. Probably not the type of attention I want.

This will not stop me from checking up on my daughter. In the process, I will end up honing my skills; skills which might get me somewhere, at some point, with a man who will be worth my effort and view me as his choice instead of a result of lack of options or, worse yet, just a plaything.

A Question of Faith

Events of the past few weeks have led me to question myself.

Question my understanding of who I am, of how I view things. I dare say, as well, of how I am perceived by others. But, if you know me, you know most times I take the last element with a grain of salt. As long as I am following a principle or a base tenet, I could really care less what others think. What they think or how they judge me is their problem. (unless, of course, "the other(s)" is a friend...that changes the backdrop drastically)

The types of questions of which I speak are good because they are part of growth and maturity. In that light, I welcome them, even as I struggle with them and how to apply the ultimate answer, the resolution, to me and my approach to my life.

However, today's questions came streaming in as a result of an ongoing incident with people who are not friends, piggybacking on a previous incident with people who were friends.

So, the scene is set.

How do I maintain integrity and values in my approach to problem resolution, especially in the face of judgement by others? How do I remain firm without appearing obstinate? Is that possible?

I didn't exactly find a definitive answer to this. What I did find are ways to think about those who might judge me; conversely, to think about how my actions might be viewed by others. Maybe I am judging others, or at least coming across that way.

These ideas helped me to put both sides, theirs and mine, into perspective. What I learned is that I am powerless to affect the views of others if they are unwilling to listen; and, in that situation, and only that situation, is where I must maintain my position. If I constantly look outward for clues that I have not previously considered, clues that could prove effective in seeing things in a light I might not have considered beforehand, then I can stay secure in my position. Bottom line, I am to look for correction.

• "A fool shows his annoyance at once; but a prudent man overlooks an insult." ~ Proverbs 12:16
• "If you want to avoid judgement, stop passing judgement." ~ Matthew 7:1
• "He who ignores discipline despises himself; but whoever heeds correction gains understanding." ~ Proverbs 15:32

I think the lesson for me is not the act of seeking correction, but the knowledge that others are not like me. They do not seek correction, and instead proceed in a certain arrogance and pride.

How do I maintain an assertive nature without being viewed as aggressive?

The answer and approach to this came not only from the Bible, but also from an essay about Polemic Theology written by Dr. R. Nicole. And, in it I learned that, again, I cannot control how others view me. I can only control myself and my beliefs. If my beliefs are based in Christ, in my understanding of Christ's mission for me, I am only to continue steadfast.

Dr. Nicole started from the basics of what we owe others in our lives, especially in instances where we disagree. He refers to the Epistle of Jude, in which is stated these verses that are poignant to all:

• "Perservere in God's love, and welcome the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ which leads to life eternal."
• "Correct those who are confused; the others you must rescue, snatching them from the fire."
• "Even with those you pity, be on your guard; abhor so much as their flesh-stained clothing."

I read that as a call to stand up for what you truly believe in. If what you believe in is coming from good and truth, in the pursuit of good and truth, how can it be wrong? Of course, then comes the question of those who are confused about what "good" and "truth" denote...but that is the topic for another post.

Dr. Nicole suggested that we endeavor to learn from those who differ, that we guide ourselves based on the facts, and that we analyze the dangers and ambiguities of the situation at hand.

"When we give due attention to what we owe those who differ and what we can learn from them, we may be less inclined to proceed in a hostile manner. Our hand will not so readily contract into a boxing fist, but will be extended as an instrument of friendship and help; our feet will not be used to bludgeon another, but will bring us closer to those who stand afar; our tongue will not lash out in bitterness and sarcasm, but will speak words of wisdom, grace and healing." ~ Dr. R. Nicole.

And, the crowning question...how do I do I maintain a sense of humility through all of this? How do I overcome my fear of my own God-given strength?

Humility is the cruxt of all of this. It is difficult to humble yourself to emotional and psychological attacks by others. I found a great website that details four simple steps that make alot of sense.

1. Recognize the emotions
2. Recognize the psychological defenses
3. Learn how the past manifests in the present
4. Learn new behaviors

I am not sure this post answers any questions. I really don't think there are any true answers, only an avenue to a change in my approach. What it has helped me to do is to process through the multitude of emotions I have to sift through; led me in different ways to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Once I get that chaff out, I can let it (and them) all blow in the wind.

How Would Wilson Feel

You know, I haven't been able to shake the idea of Wilson and Chuck. Or, more specifically, what did Wilson feel when Chuck said goodbye. What are some of the emotions, if Wilson were a person and not an aged volleyball, Wilson would have experienced when Chuck chose to continue without him?

I have been "wilsoned" before; I have been close to people who have been "wilsoned". When the act is done within the confines of a caring relationship, being "wilsoned" is easier to stomach. At least, when there exists a healthy element of maturity on both the parts of "Chuck" and "Wilson". The emotions are no less real, though, and still need to be reconciled. Some of the typical emotions resulting from being "wilsoned" are:

• rejection
• inferiority
• insignificance
• insecurity with self
• self-doubt
• distrust
• instability
• emptiness
• guilt

If these are the emotions that being "wilsoned" evokes, how could being "wilsoned" ever occur within the confines of a caring relationship? How could someone who cares for another person so deeply do something so "hurtful"?

It is easy to understand how mean people can "wilson" someone. They either don't care or they get a thrill from being in control or from hurting another person.

But, there are times in any relationship, either with another person or with a thing, where the relationship becomes overwhelming or where the expectations of one are out of whack with those of the other. Keeping that relationship going becomes more of a burden than a thrill. A "have to" instead of a "want to". An obligation, of sorts.

Obligations are a fact of life, but when the obligation is more like a ball and chain, a dread in the pit of the stomach at the thought of it, it is time to "wilson" it, regardless of the negative emotions this action might cause.

In this sense, the benefits outway the action. But, don't think the action comes without payment.

In order to discard Wilson, Chuck had to deal with some emotions of his own. 

The action Chuck chose took courage. But, he paid the price in emotions similar to what Wilson probably felt...only from a different perspective.

The only difference? Chuck had to take the first step. Chuck took the risk. He took the risk from a position of love and appreciation, not of malice or malcontent.

Whether doing or receiving a "wilson", the event is no less painful for either side. If done out of love, maturity, and mutual respect, it can be the best thing that ever happened to either participant.

The Ways of Wilson

{I must give credit where credit is due. This topic is not an original creation. The idea of "Wilson", the volleyball character from the movie Castaway, as a metaphor for life came from a Facebook post I saw on my wall that came from a friend of a friend. The "friend of a friend" is named Jamar Monroe.

Before I even begin, Jamar, you don't know me, but thank you for the inspiration. }

Did you see the movie "Castaway"? Remember the Wilson character...the volleyball that became Chuck Noland's confidante, his lifeline to reality and sanity. In the end, Wilson became more like a crutch, a necessary addiction to get Chuck through his trials as a castaway. Eventually, as Chuck left his island prison, he had to say goodbye to Wilson.

Wilson had served his purpose in Chuck's life. To continue to keep Wilson in his life, Chuck would not be able to transition to the next phase of his life. Wilson would only hold him down.

We all have a "wilson" in our lives. Some of us have a few. The symptoms of having a "wilson":

• an overwhelming security when "wilson" is around
• an overwhelming insecurity when "wilson" is not around
• an overwhelming euphoria at the thought of "wilson"
• thinking about "wilson" constantly
• including "wilson" in everything, actions and thoughts

Sounds kind of like an addiction, doesn't it? I'm surprised AA didn't pick up on this earlier and run with it. Maybe they did but I just wasn't paying attention back then; or maybe the franchising fees were just too outrageous.

We are all a "wilson" to someone else in our lives. Sometimes we don't even know it. The symptoms of being a "wilson" are quite similar to those of having a "wilson":

• an overwhelming need by "Chuck" to always have you around
• an overwhelming need by "Chuck" to include you in everything
• an obvious euphoria by "Chuck" when he is in your presence
• your feeling, as "wilson", that "Chuck" is overdoing it and needs you too much
• your desire, as "wilson", not to hurt "Chuck's" feelings because you know he is in a tough spot right now
• your assertion, as "wilson", to yourself that you don't need "Chuck" as much as he needs you

In the end, "Chuck" said farewell to "wilson". He had to in order to move on. "Wilson" would only hold him back, restrain him from moving to the next phase of his life.

If you have never been "wilsoned", know that you will. If you have never "wilsoned" someone, know that you will do this too. And the reason is because the euphoria and security that "wilson" provides are temporary and temporal. While he feels good and provides a necessary security, he can be just a stepping stone to something bigger and better.

So, are you "Chuck" now? Or are you "wilson"? Maybe you are both or maybe you need to examine more closely your "wilsons".

Is it time to move on?

Rules vs. Commandments

Rules, rules...everywhere. For everything.

Rules for driving.
Rules for drinking.
Rules for driving and drinking.
Rules for working.
Rules for banking.
Rules for school.
Rules for raising children.

Rules limit and guide behavior and are in place to avoid chaos. Because if everyone acts on his or her own thoughts and feelings, in the abscence of common sense and compassion for others, chaos breaks loose. People get hurt, in more ways than one.

The sound of the word "rule" is harsh, constricting, limiting. There is little grey area with a rule. It is like a gate, or a fence. There are always consequences to breaking a rule, usually meted out by the person or authority who established the rule in the first place.


When I was raising my children, rules were critical. Rules provided their structure. Even when they were pushing against the rules as they turned into teenagers, they still needed them. They didn't like them; they complained about them. Worse yet, they broke them. Over and over again. Maybe they were hoping for different consequences. They were most times disappointed. And, to this day, they are, for the most part, respectful of rules. But, they still engage their free will, despite the rules.

One of God's most precious gifts to mankind - free will. Free will was tested in the Garden of Eden. Sure, the rules existed. God had set them down Himself. And, luckily for Adam and Eve, there was only one rule.

Don't eat the fruit of that tree.

But God knew what Eve would do before she herself even knew.

And, the maker meted out the consequences. Sometime after that, He followed up with the 10 Commandments.

Now, if you think "rule" sounds harsh, try letting "commandments" roll off your tongue, out loud, a few times. If "rule" sounds like a gate or fence, "commandment" sounds like a huge concrete wall. What comes to my mind is the Great Wall of China. Yah, that sounds about right. Much taller, much thicker. All encompassing, impenetrable, colossal.

We still had free will. But God had raised the stakes and imposed more consequences.

Rules are things of man. Commandments are made by God.

Why do we have rules? It is my belief that rules are man's attempt:

• to impose upon man a way to mediate the chaos of a society in which man does not operate by principles, morals, "doing the right thing". {A society from which God is being pushed.}

• to aggrandize man with money and power. {Think about all the government rules that are imposed, and carry a fine if they are not followed. Think about the power those government officials feel over the "little guy".}

• to keep man "in line", particularly when one man's ideas cross or contradict those of another man. {Remember all the differences and debates on health care, abortion, taxes, not to mention a host of other fun topics. Need I say more...}

Man's rules circumvent God.

And what other "rules" do we need? The Ten Commandments are perfect, by design.

If every man lived by these simple commands, there would be peace, humility, respect, understanding. Many of the ills of society that drag man down, that require rules to keep under control, would be mitigated.

What is left over, God will deal with.

Just in case you are reading this and have never seen The Ten Commandments, or have forgotten them, here they are: