The Never Ending Process

Tags

conversion, faith, God, Health care, Michael Jackson, racism, spiritual journey

I ran into Fran’s blog today, and as happens quite often, she stopped me dead and made me think. She does that quite often, and what I deeply love about her is that she is unafraid to ask the hard questions, and answer them as well.

The question was: “What conversion am I being invited into today?”

Indeed. Think about that.

I’m not especially crazy I don’t think, but I find a lot of competing persons inhabiting my body at any given time. This is especially disconcerting, since I experience from time to time, really deep, moving, spiritual moments. Each makes me think I am forever changed, yet within a few days, certain unsavory elements seem to resurface, and I feel like my “old” self once again.

We hear often, especially those who have returned from the brink of death, that they are forever changed, how they will never look upon life the same way again. Perhaps, but I rather assume that within some weeks or months, they are pretty much taking most things for granted again, and have slipped back into old patterns of behavior.

This doesn’t mean that I think that these “conversions” are not meaningful, it just means they are less life altering than we might wish them to be. We change, I submit incrementally.

I have become beyond incensed by all the talk about Harvard profs and cops, and what type of beer these men will drink. I’m nearly insane from continuing “revelations” about Michael Jackson. I’m ready to assault the next Republican I meet when I read that the public seems to be starting to buy all their lies about how the health reform bill will destroy medical care for those who have it. And the list is forever long, and I get forever  distressed and I sigh and I go for a donut to just put it out of my mind.

That’s one side of me. It’s the mean, snarling bitch, ready to come here and rant and make snide little jokes about Sarah and Hannity and, well pick your subject. You know all the ones I can rant about.

But there is the other side too. There is the side that soars on Sunday in my church, among my family of faith. It is the place where I feel drawn again and again to service, and keep finding more time and more place for “other” in my world. Where the tears flow easily, where shame and guilt are replaced by dedication and warm friendship, and feeling integrated into a world of love and acceptance. Where Jesus holds my hand and slowly urges me forward to forgiveness and tolerance, even for those I most disagree with.

I see this transition in of all places, a forum where I am wont to get virally angry. Angry at the intolerant viciousness that can be found there. At ex-Episcopalians who, unable to get the church to conform to them, have found refuge where they are not happy, and so spew tirelessly their hatred and desire to see the entire church destroyed to vindicate their pain. I get angry, and sometimes I erupt in indignation and hurt, but more often I don’t. I turn my mind to those who are gentle, who listen, who offer advice and uphold. There are plenty of those folks around, and the private message is alive and well!

For I see that conversion is not a one time thing, as so very many think. Those of us in the trenches of the journey, know only to well, that conversion is a daily thing. And even when I think that “well that problem is over” it rears its head again and again. But less often, with less severity. That’s the progress, that’s the process of conversion at work.

Those who are so enamored of the “born again” philosophy will no doubt disagree. But frankly, but a few really do change that dramatically. Some perforce are better at portraying that “change” publicly no doubt, especially those who have found a way to profit by the “change.” But most of us backslide nearly as far as we progressed, and we do it seemingly endlessly.

But, when we finally look around, we find, lo and behold, that we can see a good deal farther than before. Our vista is grander, and that means we have indeed made progress up the mountain. We are better people than we were last year, if only by a bit. And if we wish, and if we try, we will be even better next year.

Best to ask that question every day, “What conversion am I being invited into today?” It’s a way to move that process along at a faster rate I think. The answer is easy. What makes you uneasy, what makes you angry, what makes you tighten your jaw, stresses you out, snap at the dog? That’s the place you need to breathe into and just for the moment, come into God’s presence. It is there the healing occurs, the change is made, and the increment is achieved.

So ask the question today, and every day.

I Can Play That Game Too

Tags

Books, Chuck Grassley, Jeff Sessions, John McEnroe, Johnny Depp, Michael Jackson, prose, Rafael Nadal, retreats, Roger Federer, Sonia Sotomayor, weather

It doesn’t happen that often, but today, after running through well over one hundred blogs, I’ve still seen nothing to awakens an idea in my magnificent brain to write about. The last one, a snotty little offering from our dearest friend Randal, at that oh so smarmy Frenchy sounded blog l’ennui melodieux, well, it gave me the idea.

If you go over, and go you should, you’ll find a nice little post that says and means essentially nothing, but is a pleasant enough stringing of words, much like poetry, that can mean what you want it to. I shrugged, and thought, well why the hell not. I can string with the best of them.

I once upon a time thought Randal was just “too deep” for me, but then, he reads my blog, so that killed that idea. I finally realized he was just putting it over on us with his fancy words. And hey, nobody can claim Randal ain’t read, cuz he is. I think it’s like having your cranium shook a bit each day or two, knocks the dust down and all those synapses snap back into place, and you’re ready once more for molecular physics. Quarks anyone?

There seems to be no abatement in the Michael Jackson phenom, and that’s starting to be a problem in the meadow. The Contrarian is threatening to write off forever whole networks if they don’t stop, and no amount of explaining that “THEY DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK” seems to sink in. I just threw in this comment, cuz then I can list MJ as a tag and up my readership some more. I have 5,000 hits on Sunday. They are really tracking everything I say these days about MJ and Depp, Johnny that is. Wow, now I can add him too. Those are the search leaders these days, and you know how much time I spend talking about either of them.

I am pained a good deal looking around at the sky. I keep figuring that something is about to happen, given that the temperature more closely resembles like late September than freakin’ July. I mean we are looking at a high of 73 tomorrow. The garden simply groans in confusion. You can hear it if you listen carefully. It’s various components don’t know whether to set fruit or just give up in disgust. We’re about to see I guess how strong the drive to reproduce is.

I have been watching the Sonia Sotomayor hearings a bit today. The judge seems to be holding her own quite well, as the idiot likes of Sessions and a few others look foolish by comparison. I understand that Sessions some years ago was appointed to a federal judgeship but was not confirmed. I think he’s a mean spirited guy, but then most Republicans are these days. Our own Chuckie cheese Grassley says he’s “troubled” by her empathy statements. But oddly, he wasn’t troubled when Alito said much the same during his confirmation hearings. Grassley, agrees that he’s being a bit inconsistent. Hard to toe the Republican line when your past keeps contradicting you.

I usually watch Wimbledon every year. I like tennis, though I loathe John McEnroe. But if I turn down the sound I can handle it. Which brings to mind, why do we reward idiot nasty people with long term “commentator” contracts? Anyway, I didn’t watch this year because my dog in the race, Rafael Nadal, was out with an injury. Isn’t that a perfectly lovely name? Rafael? Ahhh, just sublime. Anyway, Federer, Roger has both a pedantic name and a brow ridge akin to Neanderthal origins. Rafael, has as they say a “body to die for.”

I do tend to choose my favorites in that disgustingly superficial way. I’m not ashamed of it. I mean isn’t that obvious? Johnny Depp is beyond gorgeous. I have been known to root for some not so gorgeous types. I was a real fan of Johnny McKenzie of the Boston Bruins a few dozen years ago. And he was how can you say it nicely? Dog butt ugly comes to mind, but don’t quote me.

God and me are doin’ find. Thanks for asking. I’m getting the chance to join that education program at my church after all. They insist that they have scholarships and so I’m blessed indeed. I’m reading a new book, another to review. Hopefully, unless I come across another “must have” I’ll read a few of my own collection and then enjoy some from our church library. Now we do have a selection that makes the average biblical study nut like me just salivate. I can hardly wait.

I was over at FranIAm’s blog yesterday, and she was just back from a retreat. I’m, embarrassed to say how long its been since I’ve been on any kind of one. We have a retreat center that is closer to me than my church, so I really am going to do that soon. She’s another blog that should be visited regularly. I do, but don’t always comment.

Speaking of which, it sure would be nice if that feature, commenting, were available within the reader, without bringing up the page. Easier for me at least. Oh and hit that Westminster button now and again if you have the time. I got a whopping 8 points so far. Need 50 for a book! lol…okay here’s hoping for Christmas?  I guess I should have thrown in a recipe to be complete, but hey, we can’t have everything.

So Randal, I know it’s not as elegant as yours, but did I do this streaming bouncing off the wall prose okay? It’s the best I can do on short notice. Have a superb day folks.

Tomorrow is Another Day

Tags

Bill O'Reilly, computers, education, exercise, free e-courses, Michael Jackson, rain, Sarah Palin, treadmills

I’d sure like to have some advanced warning! Down in the dumps kinda days seem to sneak up on ya without any signs. I was doin’ just fine yesterday. Today, not so fine.

It might have started with the fact that it was pouring rain when I awoke. That’s never a good sign.

First of all, it means a walk on the treadmill which I just hate instead of my usual walk to the road with animals in tow. I’ve actually grown to enjoy it. The treadmill simply sucks. On the good side, I have legs to walk with!

But I survived that. Then on to the computer and a e-mail to reply to. Not fun. Having to turn down a really great educational opportunity at church. Not being independently wealthy can be such a pain! lol.

So then I type up  the minutes to the last library meeting from Monday. Wordpad has no spell check, and it’s the only think I can reliably use to attach to emails that actually works. Our software is apparently A N C I E N T, as in dinosaurs snoring in the background.

I found this great site here about free college courses and I found all three great but especially the first one on ancient Rome. Ha, this time its’ the slow connection I endure. Course materials include video and audio. No can do.

I am beginning to think that the electronic world has something against me. Oh, and channel nine, suddenly dropped off my selector. I need that to blog you know. The Contrarian rescanned the channels and found it again, but no clue why it just disappeared.

Good news! The Contrarian has been taking some high altitude medication for his balance issues. And it’s actually working and he is elated, and so am I! Score one for us at last. This was beginning to be a blowout!

There is still way too much crap about Michael Jackson on. The Contrarian greeted me with this this morning: “It’s like the day after Christmas right? No more Christmas commercials, no more MJ blah blah blah, right?” Oh gosh his eyes nearly were welling with tears and his voice was clearly plaintive.

Sadly, I suspect more, and yes it was indeed ongoing. Now it’s on to what killed him, and who can be slandered and defamed while we await toxicology results. And of course, there is all that slandering and defaming to do about who was sincere and who not at the memorial yesterday. Who was grandstanding, who trying to renew their lost fame. Now the analysis of whether it all was too much. I mean the media now self-analyzing  itself. Ain’t that interesting?

And Bill O’Reilly tries to remind African Americans that Michael wasn’t a good role model in his opinion, though why anyone would care about his opinion is rather puzzling. And nobody is allowed to mention that there were some serious allegations about whether he was a child abuser, because “we are here today to honor his talents.” It’s tiresome, all of it, and as I saw on one blog, is this the kind of thing we do for really important people, or just entertainers?

It seems that most of the GOP’ers who had written her off as of Friday, are now backing down. They seem to follow the polls, and not much else. No ethics, no logic, no common sense or even good old fashion ideals matter. Just electability.

If the great unwashed trailer trash still wants the woman, who are they to object? She is someone the base “knows” as “one of their kind.” They haven’t abandoned her, but sympathize with her plight, being so abused by the mean ole media and all. Just a woman trying to protect her family and get  out of the debt acquired by all that unfounded cheap and wrong legal attack.

Yeah, right. More like a childish bored celebrity not getting her way. Since exactly when have we decided that we want and need leaders who know nothing and have no desire to know anything, but simply want to base decisions on their “gut?” Nobody had to tell us that Sarah “wrote” her own resignation speech, it was obvious. She couldn’t even be bothered there to write a coherent sentence or two, but rambled on in contradictory splendor about being picked on. Dubious claims of “saving ” Alaskans from the money and embarrassment of having their chief exec subjected to charge after charge.

More blah blah blah. Who cares? I certainly don’t. She’s embarrassing to women, to humans, and to anything that has a brain larger than a pea. Enough already. Move on to something that matters, at least until the ditz from Wasilla raises her head and moos that she’s back for another go round with bein’ Prez.

I’m dearly ready for something, about anything to cheer up this dreary day. At least the Contrarian has offered to make the dinner today. That leaves me plenty of time to bore you with this rant! Aren’t ya glad? Hope to be back with something worthwhile tomorrow folks!

Beam Me Up Scotty!

Tags

celebrities, journalism, Media, Michael Jackson, sensationalism

Michael Jackson is dead. Just in case you have been traveling the outer planets and missed the news. I don’t mean to be cruel or unfeeling by the way. He wrote some great songs, was a great dancer, was a superb showman. He was also filled with self-loathing which translated into some of the worst plastic surgery money can buy. He was probably a child-molester and deeply troubled.

That said, I’m exceedingly tired of the media coverage, which is virtually non-stop. It seems that all our media outlets, but of course especially those who run 24-hours, are at pains to reduce their work load even more than usual, giving us nothing but one insipid “interview” after another with every “hanger-on” they can find, down to the pool boy.

Enough already. The Contrarian is busy trying to tear out what is left of hair on his head, muttering, “Good, God, doesn’t anybody have anything else to talk about?” I explained, “This is all you’re gonna get until at least the funeral. And be ready, there will be full coverage of that, probably even on the major networks.”

This is their chance to take a summer vacation. Just bring out the footage, of which there is a plenty, and the aforementioned “interviewees” and we have a plan. It’s just the usual game plan, with the usual issues, that we have so grown to love and admire in our “super stars,” movie or music or sports.

The “weird” doctor who was the “personal” physician, now cast as the mad enabler of the addictive personality. The legions of family members, who just days ago didn’t speak to one another, all now in loving support of the “tragedy.” The children, subject of endless speculation as to who will raise them, poor things that they are. The money angle, how much, who can get the most, who can turn this into a money maker, all for the kids of course. The autopsy, the toxicology, all dripping with possible causation, but far enough off in the future so that we can speculate with abandon for weeks. The slimy “employees who will inevitably be caught trying to “sell” the inside story, and steal mementos on their way out.

Oh the fun is just getting started. Except that a majority of the freakin’ world doesn’t give a rat’s behind. Yet, we will be forced to imbibe this tripe anyway. BECAUSE THAT’S ALL THEY TALK ABOUT.

I have visions of the future. Earth is trashed, and humans have long gone in search of a new planet to ruin. Aliens stop by and begin wandering through the trash, trying to figure out who these beings were.

I rather think they would assume we had committed mass suicide. That is if they got a look at our data stream from the media.

“If it smacks of sensationalism, and portrays another human as failed, they will come.”

That seems the battle cry of those that pass themselves off as journalists these days. Oh I cry a cry long made. There are innumerable articles, books and so forth decrying the demise of journalism in favor of the slick silly celebrity “breaking news.”

They do it because we watch it. You can’t get away from that. That is of course, contrary to what we claim. We claim we don’t want it. We always, it seems, have loftier allusions about what we will do or say or think than we end up doing. Don’t we? Who hasn’t planned to spend vacation time reading that stack of books we “just must read,” only to find we watched a bunch of junk movies and read a couple of romance novels instead.

We don’t watch PBS news. We do, for a while, then we hunger for less “serious” fare. We miss the fluff. And they read the numbers, and then grin at each other, and sip martinis and nod as one says, “The great unwashed love this trash. They don’t have the intellect for serious journalism.” And the great unwashed are all of us who are not them.

And politicians and other CEO types, and all the hangers-on  K Street types,  nod at the cocktail parties around the Beltway, and agree that they need to do what’s best for the great unwashed, since they are too simple minded to make these decisions themselves. We, the elite, they tell themselves,  are destined to care for the serfs and plebeians. It comes with the territory of  being superior.

And it goes on. We’re way to busy carting kids to soccer games, getting the groceries, trying to make a difference somewhere to someone. So we sit down exhausted and flip on the TV for some diversion, and there it is in all it’s glory. The same old crap. We have enough to argue about, no time for this fight.

Oh, by the way, did you hear that the mother of Michael’s children is claiming she doesn’t want custody? Just want you to keep up with what’s important today. Stay tuned!