Shakespeare Was Right

All the world's a stage and we are merely players upon it. We are rogues and fools, kings and paupers, the noble and the disdained, villains and villainous, exalted and sinister; we’re bumbling, egregious, appropriate, brash, unsullied, outspoken, comical, ignoble, cursed, wretched, supportive, distasteful, heinous, vibrant, wicked, pure, cruel, innocent, chaste, philosophical, ardent, ill tempered, tender, and lots, lots more. 
We don't know what we're doing, half of us or more, while the rest know very well what's going on and are pulling strings that we don't see. 
Through all of our many passion plays though, we at least learn something by the end. Maybe it's getting the joke in Act I or figuring out why Malvolio was so pissed at Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.
  And then another production starts with new players in a new setting, or it's a mix of new players and old in a familiar one. 
  Whatever we learn through these plays never seems to be enough, there are so many things to learn, about life, relationships, about what constitutes good and bad. There are questions posed like "What is wisdom?" and "What is good rulership?". The handling of these many issues of course determines whether the players conclude the play with a happy ending or whether they leave the stage in tragic circumstance. We know the happy ones will be fine. The tragic will pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and somehow carry on. 
  William wrote about all this four hundred years ago and still this is going on. A lot of it coulda stopped right there, all the dysfunctional nonsense, but maybe William Shakespeare was way ahead of his time. So far ahead that his plays weren't even understood by many in the audience, who laughed at the funny physical parts but were saddened and in some way puzzled by the tragic ones. Certainly they could relate to those- their lives were for the most part short and brutish.
But that was then. In these now times people are exposed to a passion play oh, about every time they look at their phones. The amount of material that they are absorbing has to be accelerating their consciousnesses exponentially! Unlike the audience members in William's time, they don't have to wait in line for tickets and then, once inside, pay rapt attention to catch every word that is spoken or physical gesture that may indicate meaning. If they miss a critical part of whatever play they're absorbed in they can replay it, and if they get distracted by a text or something on Instagram they can restart the show. They can get back into it, pick it up where they left off, get a grip on what is going down and why. This intense daily focus by millions has to be making a dent, right?

Dig- you can get audio of the entire Bible, or whatever your Good Book is, and listen to it on your drive to work. Won't take long to get through the whole thing, which is exhausting to actually read from end to end (I tried to once, didn't get far). You can similarly download all the classic literature ever written, search out formulae for everything imaginable on the internet, and likewise do research on everything you could possibly have an interest in. None of this was available to the people at the Globe Theatre in the 1600's. We should be much, much smarter. 
But are we? Ah- there's the rub- along with the smart stuff has come a flood of I won't say dumb stuff, because everything is educational in some way, let's just say it's distracting stuff. The wisdom of William is there on the internet, like it has been on the shelves of libraries for centuries. The question is: Is anybody reading it, and if they are, do they understand it?

Hamlet 2018

Mads Schmidt Rasmussen- Unsplash.com

Hamlet's 'nunnery' soliloquy, reimagined:

"To be or not to be (intelligent) is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of fate (distractions) or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them (educate oneself). To end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely (insults), the pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's (justice's) delay, the insolence (disrespect) of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th' unworthy takes (general abuse of good people by bad), when he himself might his quietus make with some books or a series of videos?
    Who would fardels (burdens) bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after ignorance, the undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus ignorance does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution (the natural willingness to act) is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of dull'd thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action".

The Illusions Of Loss, Time, And Death

  Let's go back, way back, to yesterday. Wasn't that a great day? One that will never come again. Oh, the melancholy! 
Glory days, yesterdays are. They are that which was, are no more, and never can be replayed again- like reruns are. Constantly.
Imagine a reel of movie film, the film unwinding behind you into infinite space. Each frame on this constantly unwinding reel represents a day that was. Off into the ethers go these frames, which are held briefly in the memories of the living, or if you are famous, held in the minds of people long after your death. Steadily into the distance these frames travel, away from the Here and Now.
The Universe is like that. Relentless. Stubborn. Refusing, absolutely refusing to preserve or maintain that which was. What's done is done and will never be repeated in exactly the same way again. There is no rest, only perpetual movement. 
There is no pining for days gone by on The Universe's part. There is no attempting to resurrect what once might have been the epitome of beauty, fragility, or precociousness, like a sixteen year old girl, a flower, or a five year old child. You get your moment and that's it. "Sorry!" say human thinkers but "Not sorry, never sorry!" says The Universe, which is beyond emotion. It just is. 
  You might rant and rave about this 'injustice' but you have to deal with it because it's bigger than you, like the weather.
Time is clearly not on our side. 

Hola! The former Don Pedro and his sisters.

Cristian Newman- Unsplash.com

As we all march steadily towards our demise and once there leap into the unknown, disappearing from this realm, we seem to those left remaining gone but....
...we never really were here in the first place, so put away your crying towels. There was an embodiment, yes. That is gone. But that which was contained within the embodiment and found expression for awhile in the physical still remains. That essence, that energy which you knew as Joe, Billy, Samatha, or Carol hasn't gone anywhere other than where it has always been, vibrating in a dimension that is its natural home. Where else could it go? Could it dissolve into dust like the body? How? It never was the body, it only inhabited it like a suit of clothes. 
Undeniable is the fact that even before the actual grand exit have come (for most) decades of nightly sleep, where the energy that inhabited the body soared free, only to return in the morning, open the body's eyes, and mumble "I had the strangest dream last night..."
"...I dreamt I was trapped inside a body!"
    You can't deny it, this fact of life about life itself is ever present. The inability to locate the self anywhere inside the physical body is irrefutable. It hasn't been done yet, even though science has been hard at work probing and poking inside the brain searching for the seat of consciousness, which continues to elude them. 
So back to 'loss'. What loss? What is there to lose save the concept of physical permanence? The Universe is a living thing, as are 'we', those who exist seemingly 'outside' of it, and if you think about such things, which few do, ask yourself this question: "If I am not contained by a body now, what will contain me when my body is no more? What boundaries or borders will there be?”. There will be layers of vibration, perhaps, but certainly nothing physical. 
So. Care about the things you reference as 'home' for now. Your body, your family, your friends, your pets, your football team, and even this planet 'cuz you're not gonna be around them forever. However, that's the beauty of it! Krishnamurti said that (the concept of) death brings contrast to life. This contrast is absolutely necessary, for without it you wouldn't see life's fragile, aching beauty. 
But on the other hand, that little bit of poetic flavoring aside, it's not like you have a choice! So fight loss, time, and death if you want, resist them in any way that makes you feel like you’re somehow stopping the inevitable. The Universe won't pay you a bit of mind. Roll with impermanence though, and you'll be in the flow, because life is kind of like a crazy magic carpet ride of experiences for no purpose other than just to have experiences. 
Never being able to hold on to anything, we can only react to what confronts us. So why not choose acceptance? 
If you do, you will be able to see the beauty that exists all around.

Don't Be Dissuaded II

     It all can be done, and will be done, but when it finally gets done, which is not so far off in universal terms, it might seem like a it took one day short of forever in human comprehension.

  If you look out the window, wherever you are, what you are seeing didn't arise accidentally. There was purpose there. Overlapping purposes, but intertwined. The purpose of Gaia, nature, the whole, and then the overlay upon that, which is humankind. 
Humans are allowed to live here, they didn't come here to run rampant. They were given, of all other creatures, self awareness. Why? Was that so they could find the weaknesses, the blind spots, in the other less crafty creatures and use those against them? Suffice it to say that that's been done. Man has achieved dominion over the earth. But why? 
Again, look out the window wherever you are. Chances are it's not entirely a nature scene. Whatever has not been constructed by nature is of man. 
Does whatever you're looking at look amazing? Or does it look ordinary, perhaps in need of some paint, some repair? Rust might be evident, weeds, there might be wreckage or refuse of some kind around the edges, perhaps. Whatever it is it ain't a perfect scene. Am I right?
Yeah, I've been around. Even the best neighborhoods show their flaws. 
So- is this the view that a dominant species wants to have, or is there room for a better one? If there's room, this species better get to work and not just talk about fixing things. After all, you've got dominion. You should be able to get it done. No other species is stopping you, and the earth cooperates fully, offering the dominant species resources aplenty. Nothing says dominant species more than surveying everything you can see and thinking "It's all there for the taking! A buffet meal bigger than Vegas! How 'bout we call it 'The Garden of Eden'?
(just don't eat the apples)
(Oops. Too late....) 

King Of The Beasts

Najib Kalil- Unsplash.com

It's true that the dominant species has come a long way, there's no doubt about that. History, what the dominant species is allowed to know about it, shows a steady progression, though one with quite a few bumps and rough patches. "Best they could do at the time" say the historians, "given the difficulties inherent in people trying to get along". Soooo difficult, that part. 
Problem is, and always has been, that within the dominant species have been those ones who wished to themselves dominate, which hasn't worked out too well, has it? Oh, there have been brief experiences by individuals who stood at the helm of empires but those empires haven't lasted long because it never was too popular, for the people on the other side of their borders, to sit there waiting for the inevitable invasion to arrive. 
You'd think the dominant species would've learned that and more by now because over time comes the common sense realization that with a little cooperation and some stable trust things could get built that last and actually make the populace happy but..... 
.....too much work, those at the top say. 
  Can't figure it out.
     Can ya give us another two thousand or so years?

Team Player

This is the time of year when upper management takes a look at the year ahead and decides to makes some changes. This usually means that it's time to cull the herd. 
It's not easy for them- or maybe it is- but it has to be done, in their estimation, to move the business forward in the direction that they want it to go. There's no room for pity and so the cuts are made and the affected players leave the stage. 
 I hate to see this sort of thing happen but I've seen it many times. In a place I once worked, there was always a question whether or not I would survive the annual round of cuts, but I somehow did. Others did not. I heard about what happened to them, how their lives after working at the company were fairing, but not for long. They disappeared, blended back into the workforce in some other way. 
      So I've been there. I have experienced the dread, many times. 
  There is a lack of trust that gets developed when you witness this sort of thing firsthand. Despite what you think are your best efforts, somebody higher up might think differently and there's no negotiating once they've made their decision. It's clean out your desk, you've got fifteen minutes, and then 'off the property' you go. It's quite humiliating, I imagine, to be walked out the door, blindsided, with a box of your things in your hands. 
Or to have to give up the company car you've been tooling around in and be chauffeured home. 
Those that remain are nervous, on their best behavior, and are exemplary team players- for a while- 'till the old acrimony and infighting resurfaces. But that's healthier than pretending that they all like each other and are getting along famously. 

We rock

rawpixel- Unsplash.com

    Having witnessed this over and over, methinks there must be a better way. Rather than things coming to a head, the result of the affected ones' making poor choices, being a wrong fit, becoming overwhelmed, being abrasive, and all the rest, what would it be like to work on real team? One that is functional, driven, capable, amazing? These exist. What makes those ones work and the other teams fail? What is their secret, their method of interacting? How do they address issues? Surely they could give the many struggling teams pointers. 
I know that there are tons of management books out there that talk about this but I don't want book learning, I've had enough of that. I want to get this right right off the bat right now. In order to grow my vision, I need to get on the right team. How is this going to be made manifest? Mission statement? Cash flow? Serendipity? Synchronicity? Right timing? All of the above?

It's hard to Make It Happen solo. With the right team.......
....the sky is the limit.

Undignified

Dignity is defined as the quality of being worthy of honor and respect. How does this apply to the overall American condition?
There seems to be a great lack of dignity these days, compared to the days of olde, which weren't so very long ago. The flowery prose of cultured English writers and the writings of American statesmen of the 17 & 1800's were awash in carefully crafted elucidations of the inherent nobility of man but since then we've backslid terribly, in my estimation. No longer are there high hopes that mankind, given the support of education, the guidance of chosen religion, and the nourishment that comes from proper governance, can grow into distinguished creatures. Nowadays man is just a commodity, common, and though we still claim to be setting the cultural standard- proudly saying that America is the 'Number One Country In The World', the actual way we treat our citizens shows that we have a long way to go. 

We’re not turkeys! We’re EAGLES!

Tof Mayanoff- Unsplash.com

We talk about 'basic human dignity' as if there was an acceptable level of this quality, and as competitive Americans are wont to do, we set the bar for such acceptability low and claim that the lesser ones are being treated appropriately. Are they? 
While 'tis true that some individual citizens can't be raised up very far due to their having non-conformity issues, say their mental abilities might be subpar, we seem perfectly able to classify whole groups of people as being not worth more than basic consideration. “To the most competitive go the spoils and it must be that way lest the competitive ones lose their edge and they themselves be dominated” is the belief.

There's a lot of fear there, fear is driving this. God forbid that any of the ultra-competitive should adopt a softer stance for to do so would be to expose a weakness. That's why we're Number One- we let no possibility escape our ability to exercise it, play with it, try it out in real life. This keeps us one step ahead of ‘the competition’, inside this country or without. Don't mess with me or us, 'cuz we're masters of the craft of craftiness. 
  Can we drop that sort of thinking? It has served us in the past, very well, but it hobbles us in moving forward. Many progressive countries in the world have shown that they can be competitive and raise the social standards bar. But never mind that, many Americans say. We've covered our messy moral obligations. What more do you want? The less capable, willing, or cunning have their 'basic human dignity’ needs met. 
At least they have that.
They have the minimal acceptable degree of honor and respect. That should be enough. Any more than that has to be earned by achievement. Greater honor and respect must be given those who advance themselves and/or the overall human condition. The more capable and active participants deserve it. 
Okay. I can see sense in that sort of reasoning but again, I would have to say that the bar that measures basic human dignity has been steadily lowered over time, and when in political, business, and social arenas there exist wildly divergent positions on what constitutes 'honor' and 'respect' it says a lot about where we as a country stand. When the gap between the rich and the not so is incomprehensibly vast, the justification is always "At least those at the bottom are treated with basic human dignity". 
Nah. Nobody really believes that. Basic human dignity is under attack in these times and what has been offered up as such is not what We The People would ever choose, if they were given a choice. It's that simple. 
Conditioning the populace to be content with meager and miserly shares blinds them to the glaring amount of honor and respect that this country is capable of providing. Fulfilling the vision, the lofty ideals the Founding Fathers had for this pristine and beautiful gift of a country, filled with so much potential, costs money so ‘be content with less’ is the message.

Be satisfied with your lot because at least you have your 'basic human dignity' needs met.

Hogwash, say I! We deserve much better.

Where's Home?

This is a question I have been asking myself since like forever. Because I don't know. I used to think Home was where I grew up but I left there long ago. Decades ago. 

When I first left the ol' home town, I didn't go far away or stay gone too long. I'd occasionally drift back in and do a lap around it and then through it and notice the things that had changed. Not too much. 
Gone a bit longer, I would roll back into town and notice that more had changed. The people that still lived there didn't notice it as much but I sure did. "Hey! That bar what usta be there is gone!" or "Lookit all these new houses!" or "What's that building over there they just put up?". Those were the big things. But I saw the little things too. Signs that had changed. Businesses that were under new ownership. Everything. Nothing escaped my eye because I had grown up with an innate interest in tracking cultural and societal things and clearly remembered the way the town had been before. 
Then I was away for almost a decade. If my occasionally coming back and seeing what had changed had been a bit of an eye opener, this time I hardly recognized my old stomping grounds. Lots had changed, so much so that it certainly didn't feel anything like the home town I had stored in my memory. That place was most definitely gone. 

“Carson- bring the Macanudos and cognac- and uhm, some dark man cave paint”

Michael Beckwith- Unsplash.com

The people that were living in 'my' home town I didn't recognize. And they didn't recognize me. Talk about culture shock! Didn't they know? No- they didn't. They didn't know anything about what had transpired at all the places where I had experienced seminal growing up events. To those they were oblivious. And on top of that, to add insult to injury, they sauntered around like they owned the place, which really ticked me off. Deep inside I wanted honor, homage, respect, and tribute from them but I got nothing. In their eyes I had relinquished my claim on the territory, and sacred ground or not, it was theirs now. They had clearly taken over. I was free to move back, of course, but the culture and vibe had shifted a great deal to match the newcomers. Whatever that hometown 'something' was that I had grown up in, and helped in my unique way to foster, was gone forever.
To experience that sort of thing really brings it home to you that you don't matter much. Whatever influences you have are temporary. It was almost as if I had died. There's a line in the movies: "You're dead to me, man!" which means you're 'invisible', 'gone', 'out of my consciousness', and I certainly felt dead to my ol' home town. 

But there are other towns that I have called 'home' since then, plenty of those. I inhabited them but they were more or less long term campsites than anything approaching Home. So I really don't know what Home is, or where it is. Or if it even exists. Maybe it does for some people, like Walton's Mountain was Home for The Waltons, or LA is Home for the 'homies' that live there, or New York City is Home for the people that can't possibly live anywhere else. I've heard those places called Home.

They say 'you can't go home again' and that's true, 'cuz things change, but in my case I wonder if I've ever been at Home so how would I even recognize Home were I to find it?
It's not in some other country. I've been to many of those and they felt less like Home. I'm an American, I know that. But where in America is Home?
Seeing as nothing specific comes to mind, or has ever come to mind, I lay claim on the whole damn country! That feels about right.

America is my Home and ‘sea to shining sea’ is my backyard!

Old Man Winter

       Every year, about the middle of August, he shows up. Early in the morning, in the east, just before dawn. Ugh! Bad enough school is going to be starting soon and now this! Weatherman is calling for lows in the 40's on Tuesday night. Too soon!
Late summer is in full swing still. The landscape is lush and crops are ready to be harvested but his appearance acts as a reminder that the hot and languid summer days we've been experiencing won't be around much longer. Fall is right on our doorstep.
Talkin' about Orion, the constellation. Unmistakable. Like the Big Dipper. 

Old Man Winter

McKayla Crump- Unsplash.com

From the time you first spot Old Man Winter there's dread deep in your gut because he's relentlessly on the march, that's for damn sure, and by Christmas he'll have climbed well up into the nighttime sky and be looking down on you, you standing there looking up and probably shivering in your snorkel parka in some cold outdoor clime, like I usta live in, when I was growing up.
It was likely by then for it to have snowed many times and if it just had, nothing was more still- or chill- than a winter evening after a snowstorm hit when the clouds had departed and the sky, bereft of insulation or any moonlight, was at its darkest and lit only by shimmering stars. Off to Old Man Winter's right always were the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, visible to the naked eye. Bluish, they are, and tightly clustered together. 
But they're small compared to even the belt of Orion, consisting of three stars lying in a crooked row. Scientists tell us that like the Pleiades, there's a nebula in there, a place of dust and gas where stars are born. "Maybe I oughta pull out a telescope and look at that" I many times thought, but it was always too damn cold. 
By the time my birthday arrived Old Man Winter was at his absolute zenith in the night sky. This was my annual reminder that it was only mid frickin' winter and there was much more to come. I used to look up and call out "Hey there, you old bugger! Happy Birthday to me! It's only ten below zero tonight! More snow, more slush, more ice to slip on, and more frost to scrape off my windshield! Thanks a lot!”.
  You'd think there woulda been a solemn holiday like the solstice or something to mark this yearly event, me and the old man squaring off, but no, it was always just us. He had the upper hand at the moment but I knew that after this night would come his slow and steady fall. Every night he'd set in the west earlier. That undeniable evidence would tell me that freezing cold or not, spring was coming. 

I won’t forget my hat and gloves again

whereslugo- Unsplash.com

Since those dark winter nights in the frosty northern lands, I have moved away and lived in many places. Old Man Winter has been seen from many different perspectives since then. 
I have seen him rise up out of the ocean, big and bad- and kind of haunting, too.
I have seen him from many cities in the U.S, and in different countries. In some places he's high in the sky, in others he's low on the horizon, but, wherever he is, it's winter. 
That is, unless you're south of the equator when he's around, like I was once. The sight of the old guy meant it was summertime to those folks, but I never quite trusted that Orion wouldn't throw a cold front my way, me and him having a history goin' way back. 
Because I could swear there were times when Betelgeuse, the red giant, on the shoulder of the old man, used to stare directly at me like a fiery red eye, and Sirius, the dog star, low and behind the old man, would nip at my pac boot heels no matter where I went trying to bring frostbite my way but I'm fairly safe from the old man now, living in the tropics like I do. Still, whene'r I see him I know people are shivering somewhere, and I feel for them, 'cuz I know what it's like. 

But, take heart, citizens of earth. By late March Orion will be setting with the evening sun, which is a good thing. A very good thing. Old Man Winter will go back to sleep for another year- and you'll be able to pull out your golf clubs, bicycles, and motorcycles again.

World Wind Map

A long time back I was searching for a website that featured the local weather. There were many to choose from and so I tried each one out. Because I live on an island, and can go to virtually any point on it, days out might have stormy, wet weather on one side, while on the other it could be nearly calm and dry. So it's good to know. 
The Weather Channel never really covers the weather on the island chain of Hawaii so you have to get local weather, and the best one I've found is one that I tell everybody about, and that is a simple site called Glenns Daily Weather Narrative. If you want to know what is going on weather wise 'roun here and why, this is the site to peruse. 
It's put out daily by a guy that knows his stuff and though I've tried for years to understand things he writes about called 'trough's and 'ridge's and other stuff I still don't quite get it because those things are invisible- plus they interact. I have seen evidence of them in cloud formations though, and can at least understand the basics of why it's raining and humid or partly cloudy and dry and all that. 

Trade wind direction

Jordan Ladikos- Unsplash.com

Anyway, what I discovered through this site is a thing called the World Wind Map. You can find it at earth.nullschool.net. Wind speeds and directions are shown in real time on a rotatable and zoomable map of the earth. This thing is fascinating to look at, you could hang it on the wall like it's moving art. Over the last few years I have tracked hurricanes, cold fronts, high pressure systems, and the like. I have also found out things about the earth that I didn't know existed: 
There are almost always thunderstorms just south of us in a belt that extends along the equator. 
The southern hemisphere's seas are windy. A series of storms continuously circumnavigate the south pole because there is no landmass to disrupt them. If I were a sailor, I would avoid the southern hemisphere's oceans. 
There's almost always a low pressure system in the Gulf of Alaska. 
It's at least twice as windy on the open ocean than it is on land. Rarely is the wind on land moving at 20 mph, but on the ocean it's common. 

The World Wind Map displays in real time, all the time. Scientists put this thing together, I’m sure, because the technology was there and they wanted to know. For them it must have been a real eye opener. And thanks to their (and Glenns’) scientific bent, I was able to discover something that I never knew existed. But scientists measure far more than just the wind. There are a few other maps to peruse on Glenns’ site, and I think with a little search engine work you could find numerous other real time maps on the internet. 
Climate data is at these scientists' fingertips so I know they are tracking any anomalies. If they say the earth is warmer than it was twenty years ago I would be inclined to believe them, because they are tracking and charting so many things, quite fastidiously. 

Just sayin'

Stepping Back

News item: 25% of young adults say that they are 'almost constantly' online. 
Guess you have to do something before you get a job and you spend what seems to be that same amount of time at work.

Which leads to this: when your nose is pressed up against the display window of life, and you're staring at whatever is entrancing you, or if your 'nose is to the grindstone', which is the old saying about work, you're not looking around to see what else might be there and so time passes and next thing you know a day, a week, a month has gone by and "Whoa! It's November already!" you remark, as if you'd just realized something, which you have, and that is that other things have happened while you were away. 

It's at about this time that 'time out' needs to be called, but if you're not ready for it then by all means continue what you're doing but for the others there are things called weekends and vacations and even longer term things like sabbaticals and retreats. 
It's good to get away from it all for awhile because in doing so, you make room for your thoughts to come in again instead of being continuously awash in somebody else's. You actually spend some time with just yourself. Rediscovering what that is.

I've done this enough times to recognize that for the first couple of days I'm going to continue to run on momentum, and then that will cease. What comes next is restlessness and some boredom, which is hard to get through, but the payoff is some sort of extended vision quest period where I break through and enter a state of being that seems familiar, peaceful, and very comfortable. I call this breakthrough point 'arriving at yourself'. 
In this place, space, or state of mind, whatever it is, you get in touch with deeper aspects of yourself, reflect on where you've been, ask yourself what you want to do next, visualize your future, play with concepts and ideas, do research on subjects that interest you, explore possibilities, and fully rest for periods of time- which may be short or long- into states of non-thinking (which creates space for new thinking, interestingly enough). All sorts of treasure awaits. 

You're just not going to get this sort of thing after pulling a shift at work, or setting aside your 'smart' phone for an hour. You have to break the momentum of the mind, get off the fast track, pull off the information superhighway, unplug and unwind. It takes me days to do this, and all the reports I've heard from others say it takes about the same length of time for them. 
Perhaps we need this 'checking out' time more than ever now. The pace of life is so rapid these days that if you're not overworking yourself physically it's highly likely that you're overworking yourself mentally. 98% of the people in the U.S. have cellphones, and around 75% get on the internet at least once a day. We are online a lot, there's no doubt about that.

He’s got the idea

Unsplash.com

It's hard to stay offline entirely anymore so what I've done on my latest retreat is I have selectively gotten onto the internet during my retreat time. I have avoided 'busy' sites and have researched, shall I say, 'calmer' web pages. Pages with less animation, sidebars, flashy graphics, videos, etc. Just the facts, please. 
    Seems to be working very well. Insights and ideas are occurring. Good stuff is coming to mind, ideas that are invigorating, expansive, and different. I'm in control of the content, rather than the content being in control of me, and I'm liking that. 
Due to this, my attention can be fixated on rich subject matter for greater lengths of time. I have no tempting distractions in my peripheral vision that might break my concentration, and the volume on my computer is kept low or on mute. Likewise, potential home base ripples have been proactively neutralized, keeping me fully immersed in a contemplative state.

Sooner or later I will rejoin The World but until then I'm content to spend my retreat in this manner. Instead of it being Go time all the time, it's Chill time.

Does doing something like this sound good to you? If so, give a retreat a try. Customize your away time so it fits your preferences, and sink into some quiet time. It's bound to pay you dividends. 

Used To Think

When I was younger, I was in wonder a lot, and still am. The world was this big crazy machine and the older folks had it all figured out. I, too, would one day be like them, and have things all figured out, or enough things figured out to fit in. 
Well.....
Some of that figuring out has occurred, it most certainly has, but whoa- there's a lot left that I haven't figured out and at this point I strongly suspect that nobody my age has figured it all out either. Some contemporaries of mine are building airplanes, at the helm of huge corporations with tens of thousands of people under their command, and running countries.
Hope that doesn't break any young 'uns' bubbles! 
Truth is, the more we learn the more we find out that there's a lot more to learn. Yeah, we got the surface level stuff down, most if not all of us. That's the easy part. But beneath that level we start to see complexity and wonder how we could have ever been so bold or so brash as to proclaim with conviction that "I (or we) know how it works!" because while at some level that may be true, at another level it may be totally false. 
Take any big, complicated system. A modern car engine, tourism, or even preparing enchiladas. If you break it down to its component parts, simplify it in the extreme, you can say with total conviction that A plus B equals C because there are cars, tourists, and enchiladas. However, variables tend to exist inside those components so the equation becomes more like A plus B is likely to equal C. This is why every car runs differently, planes get overbooked, and there are ten thousand Mexican restaurants serving different tasting enchiladas.

Betcha every one of those jeeps runs differently

Kukuh Napaki- Unsplash.com

A lot of factors in life are hidden, not like in basic math or life, which starts out as fairly understandable but rapidly turns into theory the further into complexity you go. I think the internet runs on theory more than it does on structure anymore because of all the security patches and work-arounds that have been introduced. You could definitely say the same thing for that vague concept called 'The Economy'.
In the business world you get your rose-colored glasses taken off very quickly because there's more intrigue ('variables') going on in that environment than in Game Of Thrones. Even though you might try and figure that continuously shifting arena out you just might end up back at the beginning sometimes because things get introduced that shift loyalties, priorities, and processes drastically.

Kind of scary, how little you find you actually know when you get to be the age where you're supposed to know and people are turning to you for answers. "Hey- I don't know!" is not the response they're wanting to hear. "I can offer you some advice” you may compassionately say, "that might help you to work out the rest of the situation yourself" because you at your age know that unless you're in their exact situation you cannot accurately appraise it, nor can you take into account the many variables that exist, variables which of course they may be only partially aware of.

Which leads me to present some sage advice right now. If anybody tells you that they know it all, turn and run! Figuratively, not literally. Get a second opinion. Maybe even a third. Because everybody's take is going to be different due to the unique ways they wrestled with the universally complicated situations of raising kids, investing, running a business, dealing with coworkers, buying property, etc.. What they know might have worked exceedingly well for them but things have probably changed since then, somehow, in some way, and the same solution applied might not take this time around. 
So a bit of advice and a “Good luck!” is all I can give most people. Play the poker hand or the chess game best you can.

But for those that are interested, I would urge you to read and practice everything you can about something that is touted as ‘new’ but is actually very, very old. Manifestation is the key word. Learn everything you can about that. It just might be a game changer for you.

Day In The (waning) Life

"Ah yesss, yesss. Another fine day dawns. Hmm.... What shall I do this day? Ahh- sir! Sir! Could you bring me another jelly donut?"
"Right away". Waiter scurries over to the pastry rack. Coming back, he is met by another question.
"And could you refill my coffee, please?"
"Yes sir. More coffee"
Freddy Flounder looks out upon the street. He sees his pal Gabby Hayes strolling up to the gate, and entering the cafe’s entranceway. 
"Over here, over here, my good man" Freddy calls out. "Ahh. Yesss, yesss. Sit down. I saved a spot for you"
Gabby sits. "Howzit, Freddy?"
"Another glorious day of retirement. Ahh yesss"
Two more friends of Freddy's enter the cafe, Benny Dawson and Eddie Peters, making it now four at the table. 
"Waiter" Freddy yells. "Three cups of Joe for my friends here. And bring some creamer with you, please"
"Right away, sir"
Freddy turns to his pals. "Isn't this the greatest? The world turning without us having to lift a finger?"
Eddie Peters agrees. "You bet. I got all the time in the world now. Used to be I was pressed for time but no more. The wife and I are gonna take a road trip next week. Visit some friends over in Scranton"
"The beauty of retirement" Benny cuts in, "is that we don't have to do jack anymore. Everything is done for us! I feel like a frickin' king"
"You got that right" Gabby says, joining in. "For the rest of my days, lazy days! Lookit out on the street here at all the shmucks going to work! Not us anymore!"

Freddy and Gabby

Shane Rounce-Unsplash.com

An obviously still-working guy enters the cafe and strides briskly up to the front counter.
"Looks like that guy is pressed for time" Freddy says, pointing him out. "I can tell by the way he's desperately searching for somebody to take his order that he's in a hurry. I used to be like that"
"Me too" Benny says. "But now I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere! Except maybe off the first tee!"
Chuckles all around. 
"Say Freddy" Benny says, jabbing him in the shoulder. "Poker's at your house this week, right?"
"Sure. Same time as usual. 6:00. I'll have the room set up with hard liquor, ashtrays, and... uh... what kind of chow you guys want? Mexican?"
"Sounds good'
"I'm okay with that"
"Me too"
"Alirght. 6:00 then, my place"
The impatient patron at the counter gets his coffee and pastry to go and hurries towards the exit. Waitress cries out "Sir- you left your phone!"
Freddy, seeing this, laughs. 
"Lookit workin' man over there! I used to be like that guy, always rushing, never any spare time, for 37 years! And for what?"
"So youse could play poker with us on Tuesday nights?" Gabby jokes.
"No" Freddy turns serious. "I wasn't thinking about playing poker with you louts on Tuesday nights. I was just praying that I'd survive my time in the shark tank. Every week was a struggle, every working day a pain"
Knowing nods to this all around. Freddy continues.
"You know, if I had to do it all over again...."
Benny groans. "You'd probably do it different!"
"You bet I would" Freddy growls, in response to Benny's 'heard it all before' jab. "What a waste of time working was! I never understood if I was making a profit for the company or not, how they calculated my worth to the company. I still don't know what my 'worth' is. Damn company brainwashed me....."
"Yeah, uh, me too" Eddie pipes up. "What exactly was my time worth? Not a heckuva lot, compared to some people"
"And that poor schumck headin' for the exit without his phone a minute ago probably doesn't know what he's worth either" says Freddy. “Nobody knows. Each company sets a value on your time compared with a bunch of factors- what other employees in the same line of work are paid, the availability of labor, whether they have to pay for general labor or skilled, the various and sundry costs of doing business like advertising, raw materials, maintenance, and packaging, the number of employees they have, the greed or generosity of upper management, the lease on the building, or on the fleet, the cost of equipment, the taxes they have to pay, you name it. It's pretty easy to be devalued when you're on the shop floor or out on the road, away from the office and the actual profit and loss statement. Accountants and managers- some of them- are privy to that information while the rest of us live by the old saying "Employees are like mushrooms. Kept in the dark and fed s___”.
     Put a pile of cash, physical or virtual, in front of a management team and how much of that do you think makes it past their outstretched bonus-and-perks hands? Not much. There's a massive lack of transparency in business, it's built into the system. I woulda like to have seen that change in my time working for The Man but true transparency is probably the last thing that's ever gonna happen"
"Why the hell didn't you start your own business then, like I did?" Gabby retorted. "I've heard sob stories like this all my life"
"I thought I had it good, compared to what people around me had" replied Freddy. "I didn't feel that changing jobs was a good idea, and starting a business seemed too risky"
"Serves you right then" Gabby smugly replied.
"I had bills to pay, there were things I wanted to buy" Freddy continued. "Unlike you, I wanted my weekends free so I could go out on dates and party"
"Ach, it's all water under the bridge" Eddie jumped in. "It don't matter anymore! You get old, you sit around, and you end up thinkin' too damn much. Who wants more coffee?"
"Not me" Benny says, rising from his chair. "I gotta get going. Gotta take the wife shopping today for gardening stuff"
"Uh, yeah, I gotta get goin' too" Gabby says, taking Benny's cue. "Gotta knock down about a week's worth of grass"
Eddie too decides it's a good time to push back. "Guess I'll see you all at six" he says, looking around. "I gotta go take a leak, then a walk"
Freddy says his goodbyes then watches his buddies go. "Sure woulda done it differently back then" he thinks. "If I only woulda had the gumption to do it! Coulda, woulda, shoulda! But, it don't matter now. Good or bad, it's all water under the bridge. At least I can make what's left of my life count by trying to drop all that unworthiness crap I was conditioned into believing about myself!"

She's Got Legs

Watched a show about the DCC last night, and everybody knows the DCC- the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. 
Usually when they do football game promos, or live broadcasts of games, the DCC are shown, but only briefly and from a guy perspective that is never enough so “Kaboom!” along comes a show about the DCC where you get to watch 'em all you want. 
As you can imagine, it ain't easy to be one of the DCC. Tears are shed aplenty for only a few can make it to the squad of 36. Years of cheerleading practice beforehand is what you gotta do if you want to make it to the top. Long, wavy hair is a plus, and good looks definitely, but critical are the long shapely legs that you must be able to do high kicks with, and full extension level-with-the-ground squats, because as a member of the DCC, you gotta represent.
Represent what? Every guy football fan in the stands’ fantasy, I guess. Supermodels that can dance and smile and are there for ya, and whew boy one of these ladies on your arm would be like hittin' the lottery. 
I'm sure that for the ladies it's the same way. You're gonna date the best if you're on the squad, which may or may not be for very long because sooner or later you're gonna cash in and leave and then the next DCC cheerleader will show up to replace you. It's a lot like life. Fresh talent- and many still single!- appears every new season.

Cheerleaders dress like this

Bruce Mars- Unsplash.com

Along that line of thought, as if the early twenties dating scene wasn't hot enough already, why not make it incandescent? Those peak physicality cheerleaders decorating the field down there just might be available. They are packaged by the league as wholesome, down home young women so why not make your way down to see if any of them are interested in going out? Or, where are those nightclubs that they go to located and can I get past the ropes? 
The answer to those three questions is that fan access to the squad is probably made nigh impossible, those hidden nightclubs aren't open to the general public, and even if you came across one you wouldn't get past the ropes. There's a secret parallel world called the sports celebrity world where all of that Xanadu and Great Gatsby stuff the players partake in takes place and the entrance doors where those fat bankroll folks hang out are probably opened wide to any members of the cheerleading squad. 
Maybe that's why all the DCC members were giddy with happiness upon making the squad because they just got their golden ticket to the jet set ride of a lifetime which is so fast moving that ordinary people, upon seeing it, would only see a cloud of activity, those within the cloud moving at or near the speed of light.
But you can't say the cheerleaders didn't work and train for it for oh yes they did. They had to compete against each other for a spot on the squad, and every year they have to requalify. The two old hand cheerleading coaches overseeing things, I think they were former DCC members themselves, know what to look for, know what the right moves to make are, what the right qualities to beam out are, what the right attitude to proclaim to the world is, and some cheerleader candidates got it right off the bat but most of them only got some of 'it' and gain the rest by experience. 
Confidence, presence, and physicality to the Nth degree.  

Why, as a football game ticket buyer, if I came into Texas Stadium and saw a bunch of white hot pants wearing, white cowboy boots sporting, blue star-studded halter top jiggling, long hair waving, perfect teeth smiling, super athletic long legged women dancing and totally into it I would think that I had either A. Died and arrived in heaven or B. Had a chance because, hey, they're looking right at you, actually paying you attention, and that is every man's fantasy. it'd be hard as hell to take your eyes off of 'em and watch the game. 

While players dress for the elements

Jeremy Lin- Unsplash.com

I'm awfully glad that somebody had the idea to make this show because it gave me a behind the scenes look at the DCC world, which is the equivalent of a private tour of the Vatican or getting an invite to a series of parties after Oscars night. 

What just might be coming up next, since Netflix and Amazon and the others are hot to produce these expose shows, might be something like: 

'Private Clubs Of The Super Athletes' 

where a camera crew gives us an inside look at that hyper-exclusive world, full of athletes and rap stars and cheerleaders and tech guys and actors and the like. It would answer a burning question that has been on a lot of viewers minds, which is: "How do they spend their Saturday nights?"
And could we follow some of them as they went through the rest of their week? (but pul-eeze don't give us fake stuff where a bunch of B actors are hangin' around the pool at somebody's lush crib pretendin' that they are livin' the life 'cuz that is unreality TV).

  I'd really like to see something like that. I know it would cause me and many other viewers some serious pain and might even trigger moments of outrage because the subjects would be fully flaunting their insanely large incomes but you know the old saying: "If it don't kill ya, it'll only make ya stronger". Also, seasoned producers would know to occasionally throw in shots of the featured person hanging with family and friends so as to make it the old 'the one lucky member of the family' scenario and bring things down to a level that viewers could actually relate to. It could be your brother or sister!

So lay it on me, content providers. Surviving 'Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders'- Making The Cut' was tough, but I think after seeing this that I'm game for anything else you might want to throw my way.

Hostile Territory

I left my hideout wearing the appropriate uniform and carrying an attitude to match it, which would hopefully fool everybody for I was to be an infiltrator this day. Deep within enemy lines I was going to go. 
Dressed as a member of the Operation Center's motor pool, I drove away from my hideout but was tailed near immediately. I was not used to operating during daylight hours and maybe I had already blown my cover so I accelerated coolly but briefly, then pulled over slightly and waved my (now two) tailgaters to pass. They passed me by and kept going- while I breathed a sigh of relief.
Driving towards my objective, the stream of traffic I found myself in was heavier than I had anticipated and it was moving fast so I blended into the pack and matched their speed to remain unnoticed until abruptly peeling off, like they often did, indicating that their (and now my) objective was in sight. I pulled silently into the Operations Center's vast parking lot, and made my way towards the facility.

Just one of the gang

Gabriel Amaral- Unsplash.com

A few officers and some enlisted personnel eyeballed me curiously, or gave me hard stares, as I entered the Operations Center. It was not normal to see ones of my rank checking out equipment at this hour but it occasionally occurred, due to some ranking member being Away On Leave or even AWOL, so even though I was a curiosity, I wasn't challenged. Were I to be, I knew the appropriate lingo to use for I had been studying my target for quite some time. 
Leaving the Operations Center two minutes later, I climbed into a transport, started it, and began to drive. Personnel at the Operations Center Exit Gate eyeballed me for second, then waved me through. I or someone like me had been seen driving a transport before, it was nothing new, though it was unusual to see a motor pool member other than one of the usual few. 
Whew. I was in. Making my rounds between the airport landing site (Adam 17), base (Charlie 16), and a few others, I called in the appropriate radio codes. My voice was unfamiliar to the long-term personnel at the Ops Center but my delivery was flawless for I had practiced calling these radio codes back in my hideout, and due to that, I was not challenged in any way. 
A few hours in, I knew I was likely to ace it because so far, my mission had been a success. I actually found myself getting bored. Infiltrating the OPs Center motor pool had been easy, but I knew I had to stay sharp. Eyes were occasionally on me, studying me, perhaps thinking that I would attempt to return again (should I be so bold) on the morrow. These watching eyes I could not trust for I sensed malice in them and they made me very nervous. I told myself to remain aloof and act natural, but it was difficult. I could feel them scanning me, puzzled as to why I was there, and maybe going so far as to approach me and ask questions, or check the duty roster. I had my alibi at the ready and was prepared at any moment to use it but this game of cat and mouse continued in a tense, unspoken way, neither I nor they giving any clue as to what the next move would be. 
It was in this way that the remainder of my time behind enemy lines passed, until I had gathered up all the resources I had infiltrated the base for. Exiting much the same way I came in, I saw ones of my rank walking my way. I dodged them until I was safely again in the parking lot, lest they accidentally identify me through hailing me in greeting and break my cover. 
Soon I was racing away from the Operations Center, my mission a smashing success! I had achieved my objective-

  Pulling a shift on DAYSHIFT.

Road To Perdition

Saw a bizzare political ad on of all things Sportscenter last night, in which the left was near comically demonized. The ad screamed that voting for any democratic candidate was an act that would lead the country down the road to ruin. Really? There's no compromise anymore? 
Yeah, the left represents (in my opinion) to the right the one thing that they fear the most, dread the most, willl do anything to defend, will fight tooth and claw to their bitter end about, and that is relinquishing profits. 
  And to that end, they will try and foster support for their cause by saying that they represent anything other than that. 
It's easy for the right to rally the religious, just mention the A word and you got 'em, but as one astute person recently tweeted, "There are ten commandments, not one”.
And those 'crazed hordes' approaching the border might be cause for alarm in lesser minds but hey, I've been around immigrants- a lot- and they bring good food into this country. Couldn't they be allowed to come in and make tamales, falafel, spanakopita, Tom Yum soup, and open up Parrillas (Argentine barbeque joints)? That would keep 'em out of the profitmongers hair, they'd be self supporting. How about imagining that option? One of perhaps many?

Parrilla

Christian Koepke- Unsplash.com

Frankly, I'm a little disgusted by the lack of rational thought, the unwillingness to negotiate, to debate, to explore options because it's never gonna be a one way street. This here is a democracy, not a 'demon'cracy, if some people haven't noticed, read the constitution, or understand that in a two party system there's such a thing as actual deliberation needing to be employed in order for the thing to work. 
Were this built-in need to negotiate not so, we'd be living in something resembling an authoritarian regime, where somebody at the top would decree that something is so, and it would be so. Like God. Is your party, which claims to be so tight with God, trying to actually play God?
I hope not because I actually talked to God the other day and he's not happy about your party's considering pushing him aside. But, being God, he's also forgiving. In addition to that, he'd like to come by and visit, talk a little sense into those that think they're capable of doing his job, give a few pointers, because when God does his job, he takes input from everybody and then works out a soulution.  
Some would argue with that, they would say that when God calls the shots he does whatever he damn well pleases but if that was so we'd all be mindless robots but we aren't, we are allowed to think and act independently. After all, who would want to live in a world where they have to take orders all the time by people......
....that think they know best and/or want everything to be their way? Kings used to speak and whoever stood in front of them, their knees shook. Anybody want to go back to those loose bowel days? Not me! 
    So God's a' comin', he said he'll be here Thursday. No, wait, I heard that incorrectly. God isn't coming, he's sending some emissaries. He's way too busy. 
These emissaries have been around, they know how to curtail the wall building impulses that come when certain factions don't want to negotiate anymore and start to throw tantrums, adamant as hell that they won't budge an inch on their positions and wanting every vesitge of power simply turned over to them without ever presenting a rational argument to the governed as to why that should be allowed, who died and made you the boss, and all that other messy democratic hashing things out stuff. These emissaries are skilled with handling the kind of folks that act like they're the new, self-appointed schoolteachers and the citizenry is just a bunch of wide-eyed third graders taking it all in. The emissaries simply posit a few questions to the self-appointed know-it-alls:
"Why should adults grant you any authority?" "On what grounds do you base your assessments of any situation, much less upon reality itself?" Present We The People actual, authentic reasons for any of your proposed decisions that the citizenry may then choose to follow. Soundbites, pieces of audio/video taken out of context, flashing comical images, and baseless outright lies do nothing to sway the learned. 
Situations are complicated. Governing is hard. This is the internet age. People are way smarter than before. 

And Jesus, whoever dreamed up that ad, stop interrupting Sportscenter!

Up your game or leave the court!

The Great Immigrant Caravan

They came from all over, looking for a place with manicured neighborhoods, nice cribs that would handsomely shelter them from the elements, jobs that would give them spending money far above just necessities, and uber-security from rank criminal elements. Their goal was to reach Fat City.
     By boat they came, by land, and by air. Catching sight of the Statue of Mr. Moneybags in the harbor they felt like they were almost there and then those in the halls of power closed the door. "Not In Our Backyard" said they.
"Where shall we go?" said the leader of the caravan, for they had by then assembled and elected a leader to represent them. 
      "Back to wherever you came from" said those representing Fat City.
"But...."
"No buts. Go"
     And so they went, back to where they came from. They blended back into the countries that they had tried to emigrate from, and things were all good and well for the people in Fat City, for they were safe. No gang thugs, anchor babies, stealing of jobs, contrarian political views, clamoring for unearned benefits, or being burdens on the existing system in any way.
        Life went on. 
        And then one day, not long afterward, the people in Fat City started noticing a decline in vitality. Necessary services weren't being provided in a timely manner. Even though those service jobs were heavily advertised almost nobody in Fat City wanted them. Of any actual candidates to fill those positions there were very few, and then to further the malaise, Fat City and other cities needing people to man their many and varied open positions got into bidding wars with each other, and the bidding was intense. Yet still the shortage of available labor was great. A.I. was supposed to have prevented this but A.I. could only fill so many slots, and it was expensive. What to do, what to do?

“I’m not seeing a welcome sign. You said there’d be a welcome sign”

Scott Dukette- Unsplash.com

     Perhaps the door should be opened somewhat, said some, the door to immigration again, but those few brave ones risked censure for uttering such heresy. Their reputations could be attacked, now that they had spoken. 
     "No" said the ones in positions of opening the door. "We cannot. Our standard of living is threatened by any change in the social order (and balance of power) that we have established. We would rather struggle with the labor shortfall than allow residency. Our solution is we will offer temporary residency. For a time, they can live here, then they must leave"
         "Who wants that?" said the concerned. 
          "They that want to live here do. We will offer them jobs that don't pay very well, but.... ...compared to the wages in their home countries, they will feel like kings. We will rotate them in, then rotate them out. Don't worry- they'll be 'rich' when they get sent back, they’ll take their savings with them. While they're here they will live in zones that we will establish, contract labor zones, though they won’t be mentioned as such"
          "Sounds totally impractical and frightfully expensive. Are you talking labor camps? Who would ever want to live in a place like that?"
         "Our way or the highway"
         "I think they'd rather keep going on their caravan. They don't want temporary anything".

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? Whether it be neighborhoods as welcoming as labor camps, or tent cities, or homeless shelters, or 'outpatient mental health treatment', dealing with the problem of human affairs in a half-assed manner only keeps people on the road (or living next to it).
      As to the mobile ones, on the road they will be, heading for whichever country will take them in, until they can get to a place where they can actually have a decent sort of life. No place like Fat City or any other wants to deal with the problem, but people keep being born and the problem only gets bigger. The current immigrant caravan story that’s playing out now won't stay on the front page very long but it, and others like it, show no sign of going away.

Mudder

About seven years ago I had a job where I drove several times a day past a dirt Motocross track built into the side of a hill. There were the usual Moto track rutted turns, low spots, steep banks, and abrupt mounds where the riders could catch air, and this track was built alongside a freeway. Every weekend in the summer riders would converge on this rural location and compete, which was entertainment for the bored freeway drivers, you bet. 
But then early on one summer weekend day I saw something else. A horde of dirt-covered people were running along the motocross track! WTF? So I checked it out, later, on the internet. They were doing a thing called a 'Mudder'. 
What a Mudder is is basically like signing up for a day of hardcore boot camp. With a bunch of other contestants you run an obstacle course and yes, some of the obstacles are the sort of thing you have to get through that will get you very muddy in the process. This is apparently great fun, becoming physically and mentally tormented for a day.
Right off I could see that this was only something that people that worked in offices would do, because believe me, the average Joe what holds a day job ain't no way gonna exert himself in no mud pit on the weekend. He'll be on the sofa watching the game(s) with a bowl of high calorie, high fat feed close by. In his hand will be a bottle of suds, and many more of those will be in the coolerator. 
Gotta rest up for the week ahead! 
But no, such is not the case for those that hold office jobs. These are the ones that you see getting in their early morning jogs, bicycling to work, hitting the gym after work, and competing in Mudders and marathons on weekends. 
I've never ever held an office job, my constitution is totally incompatible with being confined in a building throughout the week, but there are plenty of people that gravitate to such environs so there is a huge market for these Mudder-type events. 

“What are these people doing on my track?!”

Koen Van Ginkel- Unsplash.com

"Rah!" goes the Mudder cry, and they're off! Bounding up the muddy track, climbing up and over the rope/wall, dunking themselves in the ice pond, dodging their way through the maze of hanging wires that give them electric shocks, traversing the monkey bar obstacle, the bars slicked with butter and grease, trying to get up and over the similarly greased half pipe obstacle, etc., etc., all of this an improvement on boot camp!
Competing in a Mudder is also a teamwork event. The participants are encouraged to help each other along the way and so yes, doing that sort of thing is always boss-approved and so doing a Mudder may even be a company sponsored activity. A perk! (Just alla you come back to work on Monday in one piece, okay?)

  Well, seems this Mudder idea has taken off and of course with that has emerged sponsorship, prize money, TV, and the inevitable stars of the 'sport', strapping lads and sinewy lasses making money by working the circuit. 

Surviving a Mudder course is touted as being invigorating in the extreme. You really haven't lived until you've crossed this off your 'must do' list. 
Okay. All right. Say what you will you ain't getting this hombre far away from the sofa on a Saturday (or on a Sunday). That's what weekends used to be about, before two guys, one a former counter-terrorism expert, the other a former corporate lawyer (think 'office job') came up with this crazy 'Let's sell agony (boot camp) as fun’ idea. 
But I can't say it doesn’t look like extreme fun, I can't deny that. Running wild in the woods like a ten year old kind of fun. Were I in my twenties with energy to burn, and there were some hot babes around as fellow competitors, I might give participating in a Mudder a go one weekend- maybe. 

What I do know for sure is this- if I had to sit at a desk all day and take my breaks near some coffee setup/water cooler, I'd be praying for Saturday's Mudder to come so I could burn off the calories I'd been accruing from eating all those doughnuts in the breakroom. 

It'd also give me something to talk about around the water cooler come Monday.

The Great British Bake Off

Is a TV show about baking and thank God it’s set in Britain, the land of impeccable standards. Maybe not in everything, but they do know how to set an example. This show is tailor-made for furthering the education of unpolished wannabe bakers and I've seen many episodes by now.
Apprentice bakers vie for the title of 'Best Baker' in this show. They are tasked with creating all manner of baked goods, many of which I didn't even know existed. They're given the ingredients, the tools, and a set amount of time in which to do this, and none of these apprentice bakers are ordinary people off the street. They are vetted somewhat, I don't know how extensively, but enough so that they can compete with others at a high level of baking skill.

In the spirit of Fall and upcoming Halloween, pumpkin scones.

Priscilla Du Perez- Unsplash.com

Every measurement they make is foreign to me, they measure in millimeters and liters, grams instead of ounces, they use scales instead of measuring cups a lot of the time, the vernacular is different and the ingredients are mainly the same though in the ingredient department there exist variations of what Americans might know of as 'flour' and 'yeast'  and fillings and icings, etc. But hey, close enough. 
  The camera follows them all through their 'bake' and records their wrestling with and fretting over their creations and then 'Ding!' the timer signals them to stop doing any more work on their bake and for the judges to appear.
One by one the bakers come forward and hand off their bakes to the two judges, or all the bakes are lined up on a table to be blindly tested by the judges. One judge is a guy named Paul who knows how to bake so well he is considered a master baker, and the other is an elderly but spry and witty woman named Mary, who knows what a properly baked item should look like, taste like, crumble like, etc.
Again, thank you Brits for doing this because I too know what a proper scone should taste like and crumble like and the variation I experience in store-bought baked goods is huge. Cornbread should be dry-ish and crumbly, not sweet with bits of orange (?) in it, scones should be super dry and crisp on the outside, never should they be soft inside or out, and biscuits should be hefty, with a crunchy crust and a flaky, buttery interior. Everything should be baked thoroughly- never any “Hello, what’s this?!” undercooked interior portions (or the putting of lemon zest in Almond Poppyseed Muffin batter!).
Same with donuts, pies, cookies, cake, the list goes on. There's a lot to be said for experimentation, it is necessary to expand the boundaries of possible creations that flour, eggs, sugar, butter, salt, yeast, fillings, and toppings can produce. Yea for that. What a happy accident donuts must have been! But- standards are necessary too because without those donuts become scones become biscuits and nary should those definitive lines be crossed. Not on my watch! (or Paul & Mary's either!)
So go ahead, Brits. More episodes please. Show the semi-civilized bakers out there what passes for acceptable. I want to see Mary inspecting the interior of those cinnamon loaves for flaws, and I want Paul giving feedback on crunch. 
Proper good this is, and well done!

In The Dark

They are in the dark on this. Let's keep them in the dark on this. What is our cover story? We have to put a positive spin on this. I want everybody in this office on message. Now let's get out there and inspire the troops. Who's our point man on this? I don't want anybody breaking rank. Solid wall of denial. Counterattack with reverse psychology. Misdirect. Paint the other side as the instigators. Vehemently deny assertions of misconduct. Establish plausible deniability. Keep 'em guessing. That was the way my predecessor did it. I did not know that was going on within my department. Rogue elements. Apologize profusely if caught. Claim it was an error in judgement and vow to move forward differently than before. Claim that you did not know about it, even if it was very, very close to you. Meet in secret. Push through legislation. Downplay the opposition. Smirk. Laugh. Ask for absolution from the church. Be forgiven. Entrust the process to your acolyte. Step down, be pushed aside, be forced out, accept a lesser role within the organization. Return to public life. Have your lawyer appear to be outraged, claiming that his client will be absolved of all these nonsensical allegations. 

Never ends. The avoiding and evading.

(On cell, inside limo) “Who’s in the loop on this one?”

Andre Benz- Unsplash.com

The more I observe the behaviour of politicians and our two political parties the more I start to see that they really represent two ordinary factions, the ones that this country and all others are built upon, which is ages old. Management vs. employees. 
Managers claim to promote jobs but will never work at one. They espouse the nobility of work but will always be the ones leaning on the golden shovels at the groundbreaking ceremony and will disappear until reappearing at the ribbon cutting ceremony. No way are they going to get their hands dirty, strain their backs, or work a shift. That is for the lesser people, the ones other than management. 
  Now managers are necessary in a properly functioning society, somebody has to oversee the process, the operation, the system, the event, in order for it to run smoothly for decisions have to be made. People have to be in a position to make decisions because if things are left to a committee forget about anything getting done in a timely manner. 
    But, managers, being close to the decision making process, have temptation after temptation thrown at them. They have foreknowledge aplenty, which can be used for personal gain. They can get in on the ground floor and set themselves up in the catbird seat quite easily, the only thing standing in their way being pushover things like morals and ethics which they claim to have but (look to what was written above) as to how they handle that. 
'Watchdogs' are touted as countermeasures put in place to curb appetites and ‘ethics councils’ are sometimes present to oversee things but really, in the present political climate, what a joke. 

So, expect more of the same from the same public figures, some of whom claim to have God on their side. Well, if GOD can't fix this, what can ordinary mortals do? seems to be the issue facing us 'employees'. More like God Help Us. 
But methinks the present-day brash behavior is actually the end of a long lifting and peering under the rug period, where We The People are witness to what's been lurking there all along. So let it all hang out, governors, managers, go hog wild! Disgust the populace so much that accountability will be demanded by the employees because nobody is going to buy your multitudinous excuses anymore and those precious votes you need won't be granted at any price.

Three Years In Paradise

         It's been a little over three years, to be exact, that I've been in 'paradise', and I don't say that in a facetious way, but there are some things aspiring paradise dwellers would be benefited in knowing. 
First of all, my experience in paradise won't be yours. You will have your own. Second, I haven't been around long enough to see the span of decades, so I don't fit that mold of paradise dweller, which some do, and neither am I connected in a generational way. I'm just a visitor that has happened to stay for a very long time. 
I've been lucky enough to live my dream of living in paradise and today, walking the beach, while looking back to where I was at mentally when I first landed to where I am now, a sort of wistfulness came over me for I have changed since then. I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere, and haven't been for a long time, but the tourists certainly are. They have sand draining from their hourglasses and so must pack in a multitude of experiences in a very short time whereas I have all the time in the world. The difference between me and them is Grand Canyon-ish in that regard. 
However, looking back, I definitely know what they are experiencing. They came here from some frosty place on The Mainland and were upon arrival met by a balmy breeze. Leaving the airport they marveled at and pointed out to their companions the numerous free range chickens running about, and were eager to make their way to the ocean, the beach, and the chair there awaiting them, a chair similar to the one I parked in for two straight weeks upon my arrival. 
Back then sunsets were worth sticking around for and many a nearly naked body did I eagerly observe, some amazing in their tightness and physical beauty, others best left covered. You just don't see that sort of thing anywhere else! 
I imagined that were I to while my days away in that way I would be perfectly content but found that you can only hang at the beach for so long. Sooner or later you have to pack up and leave.

His version of paradise

Jason Briscoe- Unsplash.com

Tourists have no problem doing that, it's expected, they run around, here, there, everywhere. Restaurant, guided tour, snorkel excursion, helicopter ride, luau. They drive every inch of the island in their rental cars, or slowly cruise the strip. Fine dining or local fare is daily sought out, and the next brings the same until their vacation time is exhausted. Once their time in paradise is up they fly 'back to reality' but my stay in paradise is indefinite so I go back to work. 
I'm glad to be working for without that I would be hard pressed to oh, fill up the preponderance of time each day brings. I would eat too much, watch too much TV, start hitting the beach at dawn or some crazy hour for the morning jog, read every book known to man, or take yoga classes. Paradise, you see, can only be taken in doses for it is very rich food. It needs to be balanced with leaner fare. 

Her version

Jakob Owens- Unsplash.com

Why? Because living in paradise you find you need contrast. For example, if it's the same temperature every day- which it is- you don't notice it anymore, do you? 
One thing about living where I do is that we're so far south that there really is no change in seasons. Is it The Fourth of July- or Christmas? Who can tell? There is little variation throughout the year between the hours of light and dark so there is no need for Daylight Savings Time. Think about it- no long summer evenings, no early winter darkness. Always the same. No contrast. 

I've got a notion to turn this line of thought into a series because a lot can be said about living in paradise, and a lot of people come here, so they might want to know what it's like to be a resident instead of the others- the 'ten days and gone' people, the 'three days on this island and four on another' people, and the 'people with kids in tow' who hit the island like a whirlwind of noise and constant tracking (and feeding) of kids and what they're up to and never really experience anything else but that. Believe me, I've seen it. 
So. More to come, when the muse beckons me to fill in these many blanks of:  (what It's like to live) Three Years In Paradise.

Gulp

Ideas for today's topic float through the air, thought bubbles that contain varying numbers of words that lead to concepts, or completed works, but none compel. Nothing is pressing to be articulated but wait! Upon the wind this one comes....

  "Who are you? What are you about? Where are you going? And why?”

We think we know where we're going (or I where this is going) but we do not in actuality know where we are going because in actuality we know very little about what is actually going on. So we presume. A lot. There is so much that we don't know that it is mind boggling yet in order to comfort ourselves in the vastness, we focus our attention on our immediate surroundings and never look up at the stars for long because if it's a clear night and you do, everything else drops away, doesn't it? You look up at those points of light, unfathomable distances away, go "Oh S---!"  and then scurry into the house to put Sportscenter on after which you exhale a sigh of relief and say to yourself "Whew! I'm back in the known!".

That doesn't change the stars one bit, they're still there.

Existential Percipience

Vincent Chin- Unsplash.com

If you work day shift a lot and you're home at night watching TV or whatever you're not really cognizant of that looming vastness just outside your locked front door but if you work night shift.....
....oh my! Not a night shift where you're in a building all evening and never go outside, no, a night shift where you are outside a lot and with nothing much to do, which is the case for a lot of night shift workers, you're just manning the place 'cuz somebody has to do it and you don't have enough seniority to have things your way so you spend a lot of time with the moon and the planets and the stars, looking at them, but that's not really it either. 
  What really drives the remembrance of the vastness is when you get off of work, like I do sometimes, and it's utterly still outside and the weather is such that the sky is not the least bit hazy and in all their glory the stars and Milky Way stand revealed and just glancing at the panorama you feel helplessly small and immediately wonder "How in the hell did all of this happen?" and "Where is my place in this?" and all that but you can only take so much. It's just too freaky to stand out there looking up because you know you're going back there someday and that puts a bit of humility in you, quivers the knees, and makes you review your performance during your time on stage today. A time of reckoning is going to come for you (but thankfully not this day!) because whatever created those stars and that vastness is intelligent beyond comprehension and probably won't waffle one iota away from absolute truth, which is sooo unlike the human realm, where everything can be explained away.

The stars stand waiting.

Gulp!