So, as usual, I am minding my own business, learning Mandarin on the computer with my headphones on, when Eddie (my new familiar name for Edgar), does his business while perched on my shoulder. This means his business is probably now sitting somewhere on my shirt. I haven't looked, yet. Of course, you can't really blame Eddie. He's just doing what a bird naturally does. Having a bald head, I don't want to add more stress to his life. He might lose more feathers. He looks funny enough as it is. Sshh. Don't tell him. It might make him feel bad.
Birds are very different from people. Birds live more by instinct, while we, who believe we are so much smarter, like to believe we live by using our intelligence. As one scientist and author once said, If any aliens (life forms, or alien people, if you will, from another planet or galaxy) came to Earth looking for intelligent life, they would be very disappointed.
Sometimes I wonder, if maybe, the animals should be in charge of the planet. I think they would do a much better job of taking good care of it, as well as, protecting it from insane creatures, such as ourselves.
But, to get back to the original problem, I guess I better go see about cleaning up some bird poop. I don't hold it against Eddie. He is wonderful company, and also a very entertaining little guy, upon occasion. I think that's worth a little cleaning up after, now and then. In the next life, if he is taking care of me, I would hope he wouln't mind doing a little cleaning up of my little messes. I think it would be only fair.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Someone's Spirit Is Someone Else's Ghost
When I was in college, I heard about a haunted mansion in the town I was in. Being young and full of bottomless curiousity, among other things, on a wintery Sunday afternoon, I talked my girlfriend and two roomates into going to investigate. Peter, my friend, as well as roomate, was much like me, and definitely excited to play ghost hunter. Michele, my girlfriend, really did not have any desire to go in the least, but came along, anyway. Jeff, my other roomate came along, but as it turned out was too scared to enter the house.
Anyway, moving the story along, it was an old mansion, and hadn't been lived in for awhile. The surviving family, however, was having renovations done, with the intent of living in it again. At that time, the windows and doors were boarded up. Being the foolish, and somewhat reckless youths that we were, Peter and I pried the plywood off of a side door, and entered the house along with the reluctant Michele, who when not protesting, was trying to pull me back by tugging on my hand.
I remember it being very dark inside. The only light we had was a flashlight. We went through most of first floor, except for the very front of the house, and then made our way upstairs. Peter entered every room, while Michele held me back by refusing to let go of my hand, although I would stand in the doorway of each room as Peter looked inside. Until, we reached a particular doorway on the second floor. I didn't have any idea why at the time, but I stopped several feet from the doorway, and Peter did not cross the threshold. It was like we were being pushed back. It was right at that moment that Michele, stopped tugging on my hand, and later said that was when she stopped being anxious about being there.
Later, back at the apartment that I shared with Peter and Jeff, Michele and I were having tea in the kitchen, and we started talking about our experience in the mansion. We both ended up describing a tall, dark haired man we both had seen in our mind's eye, standing in that doorway in dark riding clothes, and holding a riding crop (used to sometimes whip as well as control horses). But the message he conveyed was different for each of us. In my mind's eye he appeared as threatening, as if to say, leave, you don't belong here. But for Michele, he had a calming effect. She stopped being afraid, like he was telling her, it's alright, don't worry.
And, yes, we did confirm more or less, that he was the late owner of the house. We had a friend who grew up in that town, and knew the family. He recognized our description of this revenant (ghost) as being the former owner of the mansion.
Unlike some of the tall tales I have told here, this one happens to be a true story. And actually, one that is a happy memory for me, because of that time of my life, and the company I was fortunate to have.
Anyway, moving the story along, it was an old mansion, and hadn't been lived in for awhile. The surviving family, however, was having renovations done, with the intent of living in it again. At that time, the windows and doors were boarded up. Being the foolish, and somewhat reckless youths that we were, Peter and I pried the plywood off of a side door, and entered the house along with the reluctant Michele, who when not protesting, was trying to pull me back by tugging on my hand.
I remember it being very dark inside. The only light we had was a flashlight. We went through most of first floor, except for the very front of the house, and then made our way upstairs. Peter entered every room, while Michele held me back by refusing to let go of my hand, although I would stand in the doorway of each room as Peter looked inside. Until, we reached a particular doorway on the second floor. I didn't have any idea why at the time, but I stopped several feet from the doorway, and Peter did not cross the threshold. It was like we were being pushed back. It was right at that moment that Michele, stopped tugging on my hand, and later said that was when she stopped being anxious about being there.
Later, back at the apartment that I shared with Peter and Jeff, Michele and I were having tea in the kitchen, and we started talking about our experience in the mansion. We both ended up describing a tall, dark haired man we both had seen in our mind's eye, standing in that doorway in dark riding clothes, and holding a riding crop (used to sometimes whip as well as control horses). But the message he conveyed was different for each of us. In my mind's eye he appeared as threatening, as if to say, leave, you don't belong here. But for Michele, he had a calming effect. She stopped being afraid, like he was telling her, it's alright, don't worry.
And, yes, we did confirm more or less, that he was the late owner of the house. We had a friend who grew up in that town, and knew the family. He recognized our description of this revenant (ghost) as being the former owner of the mansion.
Unlike some of the tall tales I have told here, this one happens to be a true story. And actually, one that is a happy memory for me, because of that time of my life, and the company I was fortunate to have.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
A Stare Is Not Necessarily A Glare
Back when I first left the Foreign Legion in North Africa, I spent some time wandering around some of the more picturesque (scenic) places, while at the same time avoiding any war zones. At one point I was traveling by jeep through a desert landscape (the surrounding area was desert, in other words), when I came across a small and strange looking man. He looked Arabic, but with his dark hair and skin, he could have been Spanish, Italian, or even Greek. Heck, for all I know, he could have been a Bushman.
Anyway, or anyhow if you prefer, he happened to be beating a horse that appeared to be dead. I stopped the jeep, and asked him what he was doing. Without even pausing in his assault upon what was, indeed, a dead horse, he just glared (a menacing stare) at me for a few moments, and then continued to give the horse his full attention. Feeling that it wasn't really any of my business, I continued on my way.
After having a wonderful dinner in an outdoor cafe, in a beautiful North African coastal town, I was returning back to the east, from where I had come. On the way back, driving through the desert, I saw that same strange man with the dead horse, again. Only this time, it looked like he had been cooking it over a fire, and was busy eating it. I stopped, and might have said something, however, before I could even get my mouth open, he started glaring at me again. I didn't really appreciate his attitude toward me, and I did feel slightly threatened. So, I just drove away.
I have, of course, heard the expression about beating a dead horse. Meaning, to continue on with something long past the point it can do any good, or accomplish anything of value. But I've never heard of eating the dead horse, after you beat it. I suppose that's one way of getting rid of the evidence. As the French say, c'est la vie (that's life). Except, of course, for the horse, who was no longer living.
Anyway, or anyhow if you prefer, he happened to be beating a horse that appeared to be dead. I stopped the jeep, and asked him what he was doing. Without even pausing in his assault upon what was, indeed, a dead horse, he just glared (a menacing stare) at me for a few moments, and then continued to give the horse his full attention. Feeling that it wasn't really any of my business, I continued on my way.
After having a wonderful dinner in an outdoor cafe, in a beautiful North African coastal town, I was returning back to the east, from where I had come. On the way back, driving through the desert, I saw that same strange man with the dead horse, again. Only this time, it looked like he had been cooking it over a fire, and was busy eating it. I stopped, and might have said something, however, before I could even get my mouth open, he started glaring at me again. I didn't really appreciate his attitude toward me, and I did feel slightly threatened. So, I just drove away.
I have, of course, heard the expression about beating a dead horse. Meaning, to continue on with something long past the point it can do any good, or accomplish anything of value. But I've never heard of eating the dead horse, after you beat it. I suppose that's one way of getting rid of the evidence. As the French say, c'est la vie (that's life). Except, of course, for the horse, who was no longer living.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Cougars (Wildcats) Making a Comeback
There is a bit of an argument going on between some supposed wildlife (animal) experts, and some Connecticut residents about whether or not there is a cougar population living in the wilds of Connecticut. It has actually been going on for some time now, with a number of state residents claiming they have had sightings of these wildcats over a good number of years. The (supposed) experts claim these sightings have been of anything but cougars, and that the cougar population in Connecticut has long been extinct, and is still extinct.
The controversy has flared up (re-ignited, or found new life) recently, when a cougar was hit and killed crossing a highway in the southwestern corner of the state. The "experts" say that someone must have been keeping it as a pet, and somehow it escaped. And so the argument goes on. Well, I have found the entire rigamarole (confused, or senseless talk) quite interesting over the course of time. Today, however, I was not only made to take it seriously, but also personally.
I was jogging on a dirt track by the river, as I try to do most days, when I spotted a large (about 6 feet long) wildcat walking across the field. It was probably a good 50 yards away from me, but I tried to do what they (the supposed experts) say you should do, which is maintain eye contact, and slowly back away. While I was doing this, the cougar let out a loud scream (it's a very scary sound), and then slowly walked off. When I was sure it was out of sight, I hastily (very, very hastily) flew home, all the while looking over my shoulder. Just to make sure it didn't follow me, instead of going right to my apartment, I got into my car and drove around for a half hour or so. Then, when I was sure I wasn't being followed, I went home. But I'm still keeping an eye out, and checking the windows on a regular basis, just in case.
So, remember to be careful out there. There's also rumored to be, a dangerous rogue elephant somewhere around here, too. I've seen a lot of strange things haunting the woods of New England. And whatever you do, don't get too close to the river. If I told you what I've seen in there, you would definitely think I was crazy as a bedbug.
The controversy has flared up (re-ignited, or found new life) recently, when a cougar was hit and killed crossing a highway in the southwestern corner of the state. The "experts" say that someone must have been keeping it as a pet, and somehow it escaped. And so the argument goes on. Well, I have found the entire rigamarole (confused, or senseless talk) quite interesting over the course of time. Today, however, I was not only made to take it seriously, but also personally.
I was jogging on a dirt track by the river, as I try to do most days, when I spotted a large (about 6 feet long) wildcat walking across the field. It was probably a good 50 yards away from me, but I tried to do what they (the supposed experts) say you should do, which is maintain eye contact, and slowly back away. While I was doing this, the cougar let out a loud scream (it's a very scary sound), and then slowly walked off. When I was sure it was out of sight, I hastily (very, very hastily) flew home, all the while looking over my shoulder. Just to make sure it didn't follow me, instead of going right to my apartment, I got into my car and drove around for a half hour or so. Then, when I was sure I wasn't being followed, I went home. But I'm still keeping an eye out, and checking the windows on a regular basis, just in case.
So, remember to be careful out there. There's also rumored to be, a dangerous rogue elephant somewhere around here, too. I've seen a lot of strange things haunting the woods of New England. And whatever you do, don't get too close to the river. If I told you what I've seen in there, you would definitely think I was crazy as a bedbug.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Traveling Requires A Roomy Heart
A few years ago, I was crossing the desert somewhere in Death Valley, when my jeep (a 4 wheel drive open vehicle) gave up the ghost (an expression that means: it died). So I took what water and food I had, and set out on foot. I knew it would take me at least 3 or 4 days to get back to anything resembling (looking like) civilization. So, using my small pup-tent, I slept through the rest of the day, and traveled at night, when it was much cooler. Doing that took less physical exertion (effort), and I was able to stretch what water I had. Even so, after 2 nights of traveling I was running out of water, and had already exhausted (used up) what little food I had.
Just as the sun was coming up, I happened upon an Asian man sitting by a campfire, eating what looked like a large lizard, which he must have cooked over his fire. He offered me some of the lizard, and of course, I accepted. It tasted just like chicken, but the best darn chicken I had ever had. I asked him what he was doing out in the middle of nowhere, and he said, "I'm on vacation," with what sounded like a bit of a Chinese accent. Taking a stab (a guess) at it, I asked him why he hadn't gone back to visit the mother country. He said, "China is in my heart, no matter where I am. I never travel without Her."
He got me to thinking, and I realized I was carrying all my family and friends, all the people I love, in my own heart, on my journey. They are a part of me, it seems, that I can't leave behind. So, I suppose loneliness won't be much of an issue (problem). But it must be getting crowded in that heart of mine. I might have to be careful about how many more hitchhikers my heart picks up along the way. Or maybe, I'll just have to see if I can grow my heart a bit bigger.
Anyway, since I'm writing this, you can assume I survived my time in Death Valley. I think on my next vacation I'll see about crossing the Pacific on a raft. I know, it's been done before. But not by me.
That's it for now. Eddie (Edgar) keeps interrupting me for head-rubs. It's pretty hard to type while you're giving a head-rub. With your nose.
Just as the sun was coming up, I happened upon an Asian man sitting by a campfire, eating what looked like a large lizard, which he must have cooked over his fire. He offered me some of the lizard, and of course, I accepted. It tasted just like chicken, but the best darn chicken I had ever had. I asked him what he was doing out in the middle of nowhere, and he said, "I'm on vacation," with what sounded like a bit of a Chinese accent. Taking a stab (a guess) at it, I asked him why he hadn't gone back to visit the mother country. He said, "China is in my heart, no matter where I am. I never travel without Her."
He got me to thinking, and I realized I was carrying all my family and friends, all the people I love, in my own heart, on my journey. They are a part of me, it seems, that I can't leave behind. So, I suppose loneliness won't be much of an issue (problem). But it must be getting crowded in that heart of mine. I might have to be careful about how many more hitchhikers my heart picks up along the way. Or maybe, I'll just have to see if I can grow my heart a bit bigger.
Anyway, since I'm writing this, you can assume I survived my time in Death Valley. I think on my next vacation I'll see about crossing the Pacific on a raft. I know, it's been done before. But not by me.
That's it for now. Eddie (Edgar) keeps interrupting me for head-rubs. It's pretty hard to type while you're giving a head-rub. With your nose.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Observing With the Inner Eye
There are times in the midst (surrounded by) of life, when I like to stand back and observe all that is going on around me. Most of our time is spent dealing with what is right in front of us, whether it is good or bad, tedious or carefree, pleasurable or painful. Because we are usually caught up in all these "little" moments, we don't get a lot of chances to really see the "big picture," as they say. And, what "they" mean by big picture, is probably not the same as what I'm blogging about. And who is this "they" that everyone talks about? I don't know, and I don't really care. Plus, they have nothing to do with any of this, anyway.
I was at a wedding Friday, and although there were a number of people there that I knew, I found myself at certain times during the course of the afternoon, to be detached from the festivities going on around me. During those brief flashes of the "big picture", I felt myself on the edge of understanding something extraordinary about human existence. But then, once again, I would become caught up in all the activity going on, and would be pulled out of my transcendent (that one you should look up) view, and fall back into the enjoyment of those small pleasurable moments, that I hope we all have many of over the course of our lives.
Anyway, I would love to have something deep and meaningful to say about all this, but I really don't. I believe we are here to experience all of life, and that includes weddings, as well as funerals. It is a wonderful thing to be able to observe human behavior in all it's complexities, but in the end, it's not about what we observe in life. It's about what we do.
And so, whatever you do, do it well. And if at all possible, enjoy the hell out of it.
I was at a wedding Friday, and although there were a number of people there that I knew, I found myself at certain times during the course of the afternoon, to be detached from the festivities going on around me. During those brief flashes of the "big picture", I felt myself on the edge of understanding something extraordinary about human existence. But then, once again, I would become caught up in all the activity going on, and would be pulled out of my transcendent (that one you should look up) view, and fall back into the enjoyment of those small pleasurable moments, that I hope we all have many of over the course of our lives.
Anyway, I would love to have something deep and meaningful to say about all this, but I really don't. I believe we are here to experience all of life, and that includes weddings, as well as funerals. It is a wonderful thing to be able to observe human behavior in all it's complexities, but in the end, it's not about what we observe in life. It's about what we do.
And so, whatever you do, do it well. And if at all possible, enjoy the hell out of it.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
No Conversation Group Friday June 10th
A quick word for my English learning friends who haven't heard: I will not be in the Library tomorrow, Friday June 10th. I will be at my Niece's wedding, so I will, hopefully, see you next week. Be well, and stay out of trouble!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
A Story For Every Occasion
It's important to have a good and believable story for every occasion. You just never know when you'll need one. For instance, the other day I was buying some Haagen Daas (not sure about the spelling) ice cream, when I ran into (not literally, of course) my Mother. She told me that I shouldn't be eating any Haagen Daas, or any other ice cream for that matter, unless I wanted to become fatter than I already am. Thinking fast on my feet (another expression), I told her I had fallen in love with Lina. For those of you who don't know, Lina is a Chinese woman who just won the French Open Tennis Tournament. The first Asian to ever win the French Open. And she received something like two million dollars in endorsements (companies pay her to use their products). One of these endorsements is, guess what, Haagen Daas. So by eating Haagen Daas ice cream I am expressing my love for Lina. I thought that was a pretty darn good story to come up with, off the top of my head (and, yet, another expression; means I made it up on the spot). But, my Mother didn't buy it.
Stories are a way of making sense of our lives, and of life in general. If you believe that everything happens randomly, without rhyme or reason (sorry, another expression; basically means, seemingly completely pointless and without any real meaning), then everything can seem quite without purpose of any kind. I believe everything happens for a reason, even if sometimes we can't understand what the reason could possibly be. Stories, for me, are a way of making sense, upon occasion, of events that seem to make no sense. They are also great entertainment, a great way to teach, or learn, and for me, they not only make life bearable, but make it highly enjoyable.
So, remember, keep a few good stories in mind at all times. You just never know when you're going to need one. Ciao.
Stories are a way of making sense of our lives, and of life in general. If you believe that everything happens randomly, without rhyme or reason (sorry, another expression; basically means, seemingly completely pointless and without any real meaning), then everything can seem quite without purpose of any kind. I believe everything happens for a reason, even if sometimes we can't understand what the reason could possibly be. Stories, for me, are a way of making sense, upon occasion, of events that seem to make no sense. They are also great entertainment, a great way to teach, or learn, and for me, they not only make life bearable, but make it highly enjoyable.
So, remember, keep a few good stories in mind at all times. You just never know when you're going to need one. Ciao.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Magic Made Easy
I think everyone would prefer that the difficult, as well as complicated, tasks and chores we face every day, were made easier and simpler to accomplish. Instead, it seems, without outside help, we make these tasks that we believe to be exceedingly hard to do, actually become hard to do. It's all in our heads (mind). There's the old proverb (saying), Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it. And that works for beliefs as well as wishes. If we don't believe we are able to do something, we aren't. It's that simple.
Our minds are capable of performing magic. All it takes is belief. So, let's say you want to learn English, or even Mandarin, for that matter. Does it seem almost impossible? Oh, yeah. But it's not. All you, or I, have to do is believe we can, and hocus pocus! Presto! We can. Of course, we do have to put in the time to accomplish this, but because we believe we can do it, we have made it easier. We can achieve the impossible, if we believe we can.
So, life being short, and all, why make anything more difficult than it has to be. Make it as simple and easy as possible. Be a magician. Believe. That's what I'm working on. In case you don't realize it, I'm writing this more for me than anyone else. There are many occasions when I allow myself to become overwhelmed by all I have to do, and all I want to do. That's when I tend to make life more difficult for myself, and sometimes for those around me. So, I am trying to change my thinking. I want to do some positively, amazingly magnificent magic. And that's just for starters. Life IS short. Make the most of it. Grab the bull by the horns (an expression, similar to Seize the Day), and see what you can do. That's my plan. Who knows? Maybe after Edgar and I are living on our own island, you can come and visit. Hope to see you there.
Our minds are capable of performing magic. All it takes is belief. So, let's say you want to learn English, or even Mandarin, for that matter. Does it seem almost impossible? Oh, yeah. But it's not. All you, or I, have to do is believe we can, and hocus pocus! Presto! We can. Of course, we do have to put in the time to accomplish this, but because we believe we can do it, we have made it easier. We can achieve the impossible, if we believe we can.
So, life being short, and all, why make anything more difficult than it has to be. Make it as simple and easy as possible. Be a magician. Believe. That's what I'm working on. In case you don't realize it, I'm writing this more for me than anyone else. There are many occasions when I allow myself to become overwhelmed by all I have to do, and all I want to do. That's when I tend to make life more difficult for myself, and sometimes for those around me. So, I am trying to change my thinking. I want to do some positively, amazingly magnificent magic. And that's just for starters. Life IS short. Make the most of it. Grab the bull by the horns (an expression, similar to Seize the Day), and see what you can do. That's my plan. Who knows? Maybe after Edgar and I are living on our own island, you can come and visit. Hope to see you there.
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