Sweet Spirit, is it time for me to listen? Ok, I will. Amen.
Sweet Spirit, I have known love, and I am grateful.
Sweet Spirit, may our hands be strong, may our minds be clear, and may our hearts be open to love.
Sweet Spirit, bless this house and bring us all safely home.
‘Sweet Spirit, I am grateful for your presence in this place, and in our lives, and in the world.’
“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.” – Abraham Lincoln
“For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them.” – Matthew 18:20
“All motion creates positive emotion.” – Jack LaLanne
“We inspire health, healing, happiness and love in the world. Starting with you.”
– Runner’s World Magazine mission statement
“The secret to living well and longer is: eat half, walk double, laugh triple and love without measure.” – Tibetan proverb
“Promise me that you’ll always remember: You are braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” – Christopher Robin, speaking to Winnie The Pooh.
“I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in the silence, and the truth comes to me.” – Albert Einstein
“You’ll have what you want when you want what you have.” – ?
“Listen to your body.” – George Sheehan
“Never let a chance go by to not say anything.” – Danny Barnes
“Body language: expansive, open, strong, confident, trustworthy.” – Amy Cuddy
“The world wants to see the sermon rather than hear the sermon.” – Dr. James Rouse
Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Energy follows action.” – Joel Fotinos
“Whatever follows ‘I am’ will find you.” – Rev. Michael Beckwith
“He who binds to himself a joy doth the winged life destroy, but he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in eternity’s sunrise.” – William Blake
> Bonus quote, just for fun:
“I never said all that shit.” – Confucius
When I was very young, maybe 8 or 9, I made a couple of solo train journeys between Tampa and Savannah.
It wasn’t unusual at that time. My sister and cousin did the same, and probably plenty of other kids as well. The conductor on the Silver Meteor knew the drill: your mother would give him a little extra money, and he would keep an eye on you.
Our destination was our grandparents’ home in Savannah. We would visit them for a month or so in the summertime, singly or a couple at a time. ‘Big Mommy’ and ‘Honey’ were their names. Big Mommy wasn’t big and Honey wasn’t sweet, so the source of the names was a mystery, but there it was.
Fragments of memories:
Big Mommy making homemade biscuits from scratch every morning at 5 am.
Honey proudly pointing out the segregated water fountains and restrooms. He was an unrepentant racist of the old southern school.
Being given bus fare and and spending money (a quarter? a dollar? – can’t remember now) and going downtown, yes, again by myself. I saw a couple of movies. That memory is even more vague. ‘The Blob?’ Or maybe ‘The Day of the Triffids.’ Mostly though, I wandered around and looked at the parks and squares. Downtown Savannah was and is a mysterious and fascinating place.
Playing with my plastic army men (yankees and rebels, what else?) in the living room. There were not a lot of other kids around.
Honey was a plastering contractor. Sometimes he and his employees would come home for dinner. At noon. Say what? Well, dinner was what we would now call lunch. It was the main meal of the day, and they didn’t stint on the food. Around 5 in the afternoon, we would have a lighter meal. They called that one supper.
About those dinners: Honey was white. The employees were black. They happily sat down to a meal together, but they wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that in any other situation. Honey hated black people in the aggregate, but he liked these guys. Probably respected them too, because they were out there together doing what must have been really hard and skillful work. He wouldn’t have expressed that, couldn’t have expressed that. Never in a million years. Only much later did I start to understand the paternalistic dynamic that was at work there.
Speaking of the plastering business, I offered once to help. Honey was having none of that; there may have been scoffing and mocking involved. He wasn’t much impressed with me in general. He thought I was soft, which, compared to him, I was. Shit, compared to him, John Wayne was soft. Honey had gone hand to hand with the Germans, and so my experiences in playing Little League baseball didn’t cut any ice him, the tough old bastard.
Big Mommy was another story altogether. Sweet, funny and good natured, but with a little bit of a quirky edge. She had had an unbelievably difficult life. Honey was her second husband, and compared to the first one he was actually a pretty decent guy. Not a high bar: my birth grandfather was a mean drunk who let his family go hungry during the depression. Big Mommy held it together somehow, but her kids, my mother among them, never really got over it.
My mother had tragedies and difficulties of her own, on top of all that. She went on to build a good life in spite of it all. Or maybe because of it, who knows? In their later years, Big Mommy and Honey moved to Florida. They were of a different time and a different way of seeing. When they passed a few years later, their worldview passed with them. Or did it?
I loved them.
(c)2018 Mike Davis
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always loved desserts. And not in moderation, either. Give me a choice of several delicious treats at a dessert buffet and I’ll have plenty of each. Take a second pass? Certainly! Load me up! Why? Heck if I know.
My other eating habits are a little more sane, somewhat, maybe. Even so, I’m reasonably fit for the shape I’m in.
So it was a bit of a surprise when I felt a strong guidance to give up desserts for Lent. I’m not Catholic, and I’ve never observed Lent or even given it much thought. But there we were, middle of February, 40 days until Easter. Blessed mystical number! And there are some other big and exciting changes coming up in our lives. The pull was there, no doubt about it, and so I went with it.
No dessert. 40 days. And for good measure I committed to cutting out salty snacks and salt from the shaker. Oh, yeah, and milk. In for 40 pennies, in for 40 pounds.
40 days later:
It appears that I’ve miscalculated: Easter is still a few days away. What happened? It turns out that there are more than 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. * Who knew? Well, maybe the millions of people who are steeped in the tradition and take it seriously! Ok, I learned something there, and not just about how the days are counted.
The food thing was no sacrifice at all. I was a little surprised to see that I didn’t miss desserts or table salt. For one thing, there’s a lot of salt and sugar hiding in our food anyway. That’s even if you’re going for the healthy stuff. Apparently, much more vigilance, or should I say mindfulness is called for. Another thing learned.
The results overall? I lost a couple of pounds. Felt lighter and stronger in general. I also caught myself, just once or twice mind you, feeling a bit virtuous about the whole thing. Which is pretty much the opposite of virtuous, isn’t it? It’s a little bit like being proud of being humble.
Lent is a deep, deep practice, and I’m starting to get an inkling that the food is the least of it. I’ll be looking forward to Lent 2019. Happy Easter!
One calculation has been that the season of Lent lasts from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday. This calculation makes Lent last 46 days, if the 6 Sundays are included, but only 40, if they are excluded, because there is no obligation to fast on the six Sundays in Lent.
(c) 2018 Mike Davis
I hit a pig with my car.
At least I think it was a pig. It darted out in front of the car as Paula and I, along with our son Andrew, drove west, at dusk, on a country road in south Florida. There are a lot of feral hogs in that area.
I felt really terrible about hitting the critter, and if I were really honest I’d have to admit that I also felt a little bad about the damage it did to my beloved Scion xB. There were pieces of bumper hanging on by a thread and some bits rubbing against a tire. Two hours from home. We squared it away the best we could and limped very slowly back to Orlando.
The next morning I took the car to Tuffy Auto in Apopka FL. We had recently started going to them for oil changes and so forth and had a good relationship going. They’re friendly and honest, and they know their stuff.
The counter man at the time was a garrulous fellow named Greg. Very knowledgeable about cars, and very good at sharing his knowledge. More than you wanted sometimes, so we had that in common. We got along great.
“Hey Greg, can you have a look at this? The underside of the car is kinda torn up.”
“Naw, we’re not a body shop. You need to go to a body shop.”
“Screw that. I know you guys. I trust you guys. Just go have a look.”
A little more high level back and forth like that, and his curiosity got the better of him. Pretty soon the car was up on the lift and Greg, along with one of the crew, was scratching his chin and considering.
You could see the wheels turning as they started improvising a fix. It involved wire, solder, a couple of bolts, and if I’m not mistaken, some peanut butter and a little wd40. Well of course there was wd40! Did you think we were going to get through this story without it?
“Ok, you’re all set.” Well, actually he said a lot more, but I’m cutting to the chase here. You’re welcome.
“Greg, thanks, that’s awesome! What do I owe you?”
“No charge, go ahead on.”
“Well, hey, l told you we’re not a body shop. There’s nothing in the price book about soldering and peanut butter. It’s cool.”
So I went home with the good news. Paula said, “I know! I’ll make them some brownies.” So she did and we took them over there. Party time at Tuffy! Ever since, for several years now, she’s made brownies for the crew at Tuffy pretty much every time we’ve been there. There are guys working there now who don’t even know the story, but they expect to be fed brownies when we show up for a new battery or an oil change. You know, like alligators.
Greg has since moved on, bless you brother. Ron B, Mark, Brandon and Tyler along with their bay crew continue to run the best shop you could hope for. We’ve since bought a couple of cars through Ron, Mr. Go-To-The-Auction.
The Scion? It ran for 320k, improvised fix intact. And to this day I feel sorry about hitting that pig.
Can you ride both sides of a see saw at the same time?
You live your life in a particular mode for years at a time. You have a career, friends, patterns and tracks in your life. Some of it is frustrating, some of it is rewarding. It’s your life. The see saw is on the ground on one side.
What happens if you start glimpsing another way of being?
There’s nothing at all wrong with the first pattern. But you’re seeing things differently now and the see saw is inexorably moving, albeit slowly. One side is coming up as the other side goes down.
One day you realize that the see saw has touched the ground on the new side.