That's what we all need -- a couple million doses of good news.
I mean, at every turn there's another story of ruin and destruction. Things are dire, dire dire, according to the world around us.
Are we being programed? Is our constant diet of bad news making the news bad?
According to "A Course in Miracles," the definition of a miracle is a shift in perception. Now you may believe it's all a bunch of hooey, "The Course in Miracles" and other New Age blather. Any religion for that matter. But the thought behind that definition is totally true: You believe what you perceive. What's true for you is only your perception.
And to change how you feel, choose to see things differently.
If we all started doing that would the economy suddenly start turning around. I mean, really, what is behind all this now? Sure, Wall Street had a meltdown. But don't tell me there's not plenty of abundance out there, sitting there, losing steam. It needs to get out, move around, get a little sunshine. Hide it away in the shadows, clutch it close and you choke it off -- it withers and fades.
We need to believe again. We need to focus on all the good around us. We need to get on with our lives and put everyone back to work. There are people with great credit and stable financial futures who want to buy stuff and can't because the banks have lost their faith in us.
They need to believe again, too.
Let's focus on what we DO have, not what we don't. Let's focus on what's RIGHT, not wrong. Let's shift our perception so that we see joy again.
Let's make miracles.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Thoughts on a winter day
CKRDTH
I saw that on a vanity plate today. I briefly thought about chasing the driver into the Harris Teeter parking lot just so I could say, "Hey, I get it."
At least I think I get it. Since it's a line from an Eddie Izzard routine -- Cake or Death? -- and I am an avid Izzardite.
But what if the driver took it as just a commentary on dieting.
Alas, I'll never know. Afraid of looking like a total psycho, I drove on into the beautiful 71 degree day. Can you believe it? February 8 and 71 degrees. It's just enough to give you a terrible case of Spring Fever, but we all know spring is really still weeks away.
I mean, the circus hasn't even come to town.
It tends to snow here every time the circus comes to town. Well, not last year, or the year before that, but I researched it once and found an amazing frequency of the two events happening simultaneously. One year, it snowed so much the roads were closed and people were trapped in the Scope arena and forced to subsist on popcorn, hotdogs and flat soda. They ran completely out of food.
And last year, March was frigid, cold and gray throughout. It didn't get really warm until nearly May. So, that's why I'm heading south to Florida in a couple of weeks and to Vegas in March.
With some respite in the sunshine, we can make it through the cold.
I saw that on a vanity plate today. I briefly thought about chasing the driver into the Harris Teeter parking lot just so I could say, "Hey, I get it."
At least I think I get it. Since it's a line from an Eddie Izzard routine -- Cake or Death? -- and I am an avid Izzardite.
But what if the driver took it as just a commentary on dieting.
Alas, I'll never know. Afraid of looking like a total psycho, I drove on into the beautiful 71 degree day. Can you believe it? February 8 and 71 degrees. It's just enough to give you a terrible case of Spring Fever, but we all know spring is really still weeks away.
I mean, the circus hasn't even come to town.
It tends to snow here every time the circus comes to town. Well, not last year, or the year before that, but I researched it once and found an amazing frequency of the two events happening simultaneously. One year, it snowed so much the roads were closed and people were trapped in the Scope arena and forced to subsist on popcorn, hotdogs and flat soda. They ran completely out of food.
And last year, March was frigid, cold and gray throughout. It didn't get really warm until nearly May. So, that's why I'm heading south to Florida in a couple of weeks and to Vegas in March.
With some respite in the sunshine, we can make it through the cold.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
In the beginning
The hardest part of any endeavor seems to be the starting. Once the launch has occurred, movement is inevitable. Where it carries you after that is anyone's guess, but you certainly won't get very far with anything until you begin.
This is my beginning.
It is sure to be a rambling, bumbling mess at first, but I'm OK with that. It often takes me a while to find my way in things. I'm not much for mapping out detailed game plans. I prefer to operate on vague guidelines, nebulous ideas, and let things swirl around me until a clear path emerges. Inside the eddy, unexpected patterns arise, unanticipated connections, and things begin to gel, often in serendipitous ways that are far more interesting and delightful than anything I could have planned.
It's the journey that matters. That's where the thrill of discovery, the recognition of creativity, the birth of something new occurs.
And when you finally arrive...it's time to begin again.
This is my beginning.
It is sure to be a rambling, bumbling mess at first, but I'm OK with that. It often takes me a while to find my way in things. I'm not much for mapping out detailed game plans. I prefer to operate on vague guidelines, nebulous ideas, and let things swirl around me until a clear path emerges. Inside the eddy, unexpected patterns arise, unanticipated connections, and things begin to gel, often in serendipitous ways that are far more interesting and delightful than anything I could have planned.
It's the journey that matters. That's where the thrill of discovery, the recognition of creativity, the birth of something new occurs.
And when you finally arrive...it's time to begin again.
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