My Sister is Famous As Well

Dr. Horton:

http://www.lonestarfamily.org/fhc/

Kumbaya

So I go to an interfaith gathering at St. Francis Methodist Church this evening and it is fantastic – food, music, lots of compassionate, touchy-feely types, and diversity – Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Bahai’i, Zorastrians, Buddhists. It was great. Everyone sitting down together and breaking bread.

So we sing a few Jewish prayers and then the Methodists launch into their Jesus songs – The Saints Go Marching In, etc. Actually, I totally got into the Bob Dylan song Blowin In The Wind. And then it was Arabic dancing! Four woman dancing to Arabic music played from a CD. Great fun.

But then the young man who introduced the dancers launched into a very poetic but unplanned and unexpected sharing of his pain – He was a Palestinian. After a few minutes, someone turned off his microphone, but he continued to speak. The Methodist minister had to ask the young man to stop. It was very awkward.

So the musicians launched right into the next Jesus song, and I kid you not, it was:

I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy
Down in my heart (Where?)
Down in my heart (Where?)
Down in my heart
I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy
Down in my heart (Where?)
Down in my heart to stay
And I'm so happy
So very happy
I've got the love of Jesus in my heart (down in my heart)
And I'm so happy
So very happy
I've got the love of Jesus in my heart

Oh my God. The irony.

So I went to the young man, greeted him Salaam Alaykum, and told him that I didn’t know what to say or what to do, but that I had heard him. He thanked me and we shook hands.

And then I drove home, feeling quite depressed.

Wikipedia says Kumbaya has come to mean "a blandly pious and naively optimistic view of the world and human nature."

I Guess We Are Famous Now

Our little adventure. In an obscure magazine.

LAGarooni on Safari

LAG has posted pics of her amazing Kenya safari.

A Beautiful Day

Activated Unconscious

So, I went to Denver on business. The first night, I could not sleep. It was as though I was buzzing on caffine, though I don't think I consumed any. Anyway, I never slipped into REM sleep and unconscious dreaming. I did dream in the early morning, but it was more like lucid dreaming. I was conscious, but not really controlling the dream. Just watching, with my conscious mind, even analyzing it in real time.

So I was exhausted the next day and I thought I would sleep really well, but I had the same experience the second night.

Both nights I dreamed about LAG.

So in the airport on the way home, I stopped in the bookshop and bought a Paulo Coelho book - The Witch of Portabello - to read on the plane. I had no idea what the book was about, but Coelho is one of my favorite authors.

The book is about the feminine face of God.

So my rabbi's challenge seems to have really activated my unconscious. I have been sitting at the Zendo for an hour on Saturday mornings as well.

And yet my conscious life continues on, almost on autopilot, though consumming a lot of energy. The ego is wonderfully useful, but it sure is stressful.

So last night, I slept in my own bed with two gassy BTs, and I slept wonderfully.
Sent from the field.

Mr. Pooper

The Feminine Face of God

So my Rabbi challenged me to describe the feminine face of God. I spent a perplexed week or two looking outside myself. I thought about Hesse's Goldmund. I thought about Fromm's descriptions of matriarchal archtypes. And then I read this brilliant poem by Rumi (pronoun gender adjustment by me):

I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Her not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Her was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went as far as Qandhar but God I found not.
With set purpose I fared to the summit of Mount Caucasus and found there only 'anqa's habitation.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there even.
Turning to philosophy I inquired about Her from ibn Sina but found Her not within his range.
I fared then to the scene of the Prophet's experience of a great divine manifestation only a "two bow-lengths' distance from him" but God was not there even in that exalted court.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Her; She was nowhere else.

In a flash, I had the (obvious) answer - My task is to describe my anima. The vocabulary will come from Hesse and Fromm and Jung, but the essence of what I will say is from the experience of my feminine self.

So, an essay is forthcoming. Working title = Meeting Annie Maher.

Rip's Diet

My friend Rip has published a diet book:

Video

In Time Magazine

At Amazon

It is hard core vegan and no-fat. I'm going to get a lipid screen and then go on Rip's diet and see what happens to my blood.

In summary;

All things must pass away. Strive for your own salvation with diligence.
Sent from the field.

Rear Ended

So I am on my way to church this afternoon in my new VW Jetta. It is raining lightly. I am sitting at a stop light for 45 seconds. BAM! I get rear ended by a light pickup truck.

The fellow said he locked up his wheels and slid into me.

So looking at the rear bumper, I don't see a whole lot of damage - a small deformation in the plastic, a line where the plastic bumper bent.

I guess I'll take it to the shop this week and have them look it over.

Bindi is smarter than me

So I baked a beautiful acorn squash and butternut squash in two casserole dishes with glass covers. I scooped the meat out of the squashes and mashed it with salt and oil. They were delicious. I left the hot mashed squash in the casserole dishes on the kitchen counter top to cool off and went to soak in the hot tub. So I'm in the backyard watching the sky turn to twilight and I hear shattering glass. By the time I got through the sliding glass door, Bindi was hopping off the counter top. Oh, he got a spanking. One of the glass covers was in a thousand little pieces on the kitchen floor and Bindi's belly was full of half of a butternut squash. And he had just had his dinner as well.

New Years Eatin'

Cabbage.
Black Eyed Peas.
Turnip Greens.

And pumpkin empanadas for dessert.

Bad Children

I took Bindi to the dog park today. We left April at home, because she always gets into fights. To my dismay, Bindi kept getting into fights. April has been a very bad influence on Bindi.

Bindi is getting into all sorts of trouble in the house as well. He is too smart for his own good. He figured out that he can open the pantry doors by scratching on them - Yes, my beautiful hand made solid pine cabinet doors are all scratched up. Once in the pantry, he hops up the shelves and knocks bags and containers down to the floor where he tears them open and eats as much as he can. Oh, the terrible gas he has had!

And he runs around the backyard barking, to the annoyance of my very vocal stepford wife neighbor.

Ironically, April is mellowing and getting sweeter, but it breaks my heart how she has influenced Bindi. I wish I knew how to discipline the both of them, but the dog whisperer I am not.

Scott's Creed

Scott’s Creed, Originally Written 11/14/2004, Revised 11/7/2006 and 1/1/2009, Guaranteed to Change

A Process exists that connects everything,
from before the beginning, to this moment.
The Process made me.
The Process made everything.
I am part of the Process.

I am human.
I am conscious and intelligent
and consequently self-aware and moral
with a talent for pattern recognition,
especially linear causality.

The Process that made me
is unconscious, amoral,
random and chaotic.
I struggle to understand the Process.

I project my conscious human nature
onto the unconscious Process.
The Process thus appears polarized and contradictory;
simultaneously positive - beautiful, nurturing, and creative -
and negative - horrible, devouring, and destructive.

My experience of the negative side of the Process has been painful.
I am afraid and anxious of the negative side of the Process.
My fear and anxiety inhibit me
from fully engaging and participating in the Process.
I have failed to reach my potentialities.
I feel guilty and ashamed of my failure.

With an earnest desire to grow into my potentialities,
I relieve my guilt and my shame
by accepting my failures and the failures of humanity
and I relieve my fear and anxiety
by recognizing that the Process is indivisible;
the apparent duality of the Process
is a construction of my own consciousness.

With the Process reconciled
and relieved of my guilt, shame, fear and anxiety,
I am able to engage and participate in the Process.
I experience the positive side of the Process as Joy.
I experience the negative side of the Process as Grief.

It is wonderful to feel both Joy and Grief.
They indicate what is meaningful and fulfilling
and lead me to further engage and participate in the Process.