Discussing Under the Influence

I was just about to make my clinching argument to the blithering idiot in the chair across from me, who probably didn't have enough brains to understand me anyway, when a tall man in an officer's uniform came up to me.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to ask you to step out of your seat."

"What? Who are you?" I demanded angrily.

"I'm the conversation officer, ma'am, now please step out of your seat." Amazed, insulted, and a bit scared, I did as he said.

"Ma'am, I'm arresting you for D.U.I.E."

"What on earth is that?" I demanded.

"Discussing Under the Influence of Emotions", he answered back with a steely face.

"I wasn't influenced by emotion!" I shouted, "I KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT I'M SAYING."

"Ma'am, please cooperate, and this will go much easier. Now I need to have you do a few tests. Would you please breathe into this analyzer?" Still annoyed, but getting more frightened, I did as he asked.

"What is that supposed to measure?" I asked.

"It tests to see if your breathing is deep, slow, relaxed, and completely fills your lungs", he said, writing on his pad. "I'm sorry to say that the results show you are breathing rapidly and shallowly - a sure sign of not being centered. Now I'd like you to walk forward slowly in a straight line, feeling your connection with the earth under each foot." I walked as slow as I could, but didn't feel much of anything, except anger and humiliation.

"Just as I thought, ma'am, you are not grounded at all - your first chakra is completely disconnected." He scribbled more notes on his pad. "For the last test, I'd like you to look deeply into the eyes of the person you were just arguing with, and tell them from your heart that you still love them." This I simply could not do, no matter what the consequences. I cast my eyes downwards.

"I see," he said, "you are coming from a place of fear instead of love."

Fear? I thought I was angry. Could I have been angry because I was afraid of something?

"Ma'am," the officer interrupted my thoughts, "you know that with a few more violations of this nature, you can lose your privilege of connecting deeply with others. Your driving influence in this community may be severely curtailed."

The emotions were starting to settle, and I began to realize how out of control I had been. I began to see how I was doing significant damage to this relationship.

"Fear and love do not mix, ma'am." he said with a kinder voice. "There's nothing wrong with having emotions - just be careful how you express them."

He continued, "Ma'am, I'm going to make this a warning, but with repeated violations, you could end up in isolation.  Please remember, relating to others is a privilege, not a right." And with that he walked out of the room.

I looked back to my opponent, who was still looking at me.  He didn't seem to have noticed the officer at all. Now underneath his glare, I noticed he too seemed to look scared, the way I had been. So I sat down again next to him, took a deep breath, and said,

"Okay, I'm ready to hear you now."

Fireflies in the Grass

Last night, I was sitting out in the hot tub, and noticed some fireflies in the grass. Their fairie lights always fascinated me. The magic was still about them, undispelled by years of adult rational living.

One of them was lit constantly, as fireflies do when they're dying, and I wondered what had injured it, and why the fireflies were in the grass instead of sparkling in the night air. Then I remembered.

Last morning, I prayed to the gods to give me a bug-free backyard. I prayed by hooking my hose to a pesticide and spraying it over the grass and shrubs. The mosquitoes had been horrible as I had tried to catch a few meditative moments outside, and I decided to do something about it.

And the gods answered my prayer. But I hadn't thought about the fireflies.

This is our dilemma, isn't it? The wonderful power we have gained to conquer disease, build a better world with better food, assure the ability to stay warm in the winter, a better world with transportation and education and medication - that same power is what has enabled us to destroy forests and mountains, wipe out species, and alter the temperature of the planet to what may turn out to be a lethal amount. How can we know today what we will need tomorrow to survive? Which actions will we regret, and which will turn out to be wise?

We are a naked child sitting in the grass playing with a loaded gun, incapable of comprehending the power that lies in our hands.

Comment posted by Patrick Levasseur
at 7/29/2006 10:44:00 AM
I had forgotten all about fireflies as a child until I moved to northern Vermont this year. My first night there it was pitch black, without the moon as I hadn't yet turned any lights on from my nap, pondering my fate and lonelyness. To my horror I saw these eerie lights flashing through the kitchen window out in the yard and my heart sank with fear as I got the nerve to go outside and investigate. I was suddenly taken back to my childhood and remembered the fairies that would float along in the air as the light faded in the sky. There were hundreds of them both high and low, illuminating the pitch black so I was able to see the different parts of the yard for just a moment, and then disapearing again in to blackness. I could hear the bullfrogs in the pond as they took turns singing to one another and suddenly wasn't afraid anymore. I felt so grateful, my heart was pounding, and felt as though it was going to explode. I wasn't alone for that while, I finally had a home at such a wonderful place, mosquito bites and all.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 7/19/2006 7:34:00 AM
I agree with your comments, Gene. When I was a young child, on a summer night I would look at and chase after the fireflies (also called lightning bugs) in the back yard, and look up at the stars, but now I don't see either as much as before in the DC area, perhaps because of pollution, although I saw fireflies in the back yard of the people who hosted the Folklore Society's monthly Open Sing most recently; apparently they thrive only in certain kinds of places. Humanity is harming life on our planet in a number of ways, and I feel concerned about it. By the way, I enjoyed all that our group did last Sunday evening at your home; thanks for having us over. Andy

Father Zossima's Brother

I'm including a post from Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov". It's rather long, and the russian writers are not usually who I go to for inspiration, but this piece has always moved me to tears, and somehow seemed relevant to the recent postings. I want to share it with you all.
Father Zossima's Brother

In the sixth week in Lent, my brother, who was never strong and had a tendency to consumption, was taken ill. It was a late Easter, and the days were bright, fine, and full of fragrance. I remember he used to cough all night and sleep badly, but in the morning he dressed and tried to sit up in an arm-chair. That's how I remember him sitting, sweet and gentle, smiling, his face bright and joyous, in spite of his illness. A marvellous change passed over him, his spirit seemed transformed. The old nurse would come in and say, "Let me light the lamp before the holy image, my dear." And once he would not have allowed it and would have blown it out.

"Light it, light it, dear, I was a wretch to have prevented you doing it. You are praying when you light the lamp, and I am praying when I rejoice seeing you. So we are praying to the same God."

Those words seemed strange to us, and mother would go to her room and weep, but when she went in to him she wiped her eyes and looked cheerful. "Mother, don't weep, darling," he would say, "I've long to live yet, long to rejoice with you, and life is glad and joyful."

"Ah, dear boy, how can you talk of joy when you lie feverish at night, coughing as though you would tear yourself to pieces."

"Don't cry, mother," he would answer, "life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we won't see it; if we would, we should have heaven on earth the next day."

Everyone wondered at his words, he spoke so strangely and positively; we were all touched and wept. Friends came to see us. "Dear ones," he would say to them, "what have I done that you should love me so, how can you love anyone like me, and how was it I did not know, I did not appreciate it before?"

When the servants came in to him he would say continually, "Dear, kind people, why are you doing so much for me, do I deserve to be waited on? If it were God's will for me to live, I would wait on you, for all men should wait on one another."

Mother shook her head as she listened. "My darling, it's your illness makes you talk like that."

"Mother darling," he would say, "there must be servants and masters, but if so I will be the servant of my servants, the same as they are to me. And another thing, mother, every one of us has sinned against all men, and I more than any."

Mother positively smiled at that, smiled through her tears. "Why, how could you have sinned against all men, more than all? Robbers and murderers have done that, but what sin have you committed yet, that you hold yourself more guilty than all?"

"Mother, little heart of mine," he said (he had begun using such strange caressing words at that time), "little heart of mine, my joy, believe me, everyone is really responsible to all men for all men and for everything. I don't know how to explain it to you, but I feel it is so, painfully even. And how is it we went on then living, getting angry and not knowing?"

So he would get up every day, more and more sweet and joyous and full of love. When the doctor, an old German called Eisenschmidt, came:

"Well, doctor, have I another day in this world?" he would ask, joking.

"You'll live many days yet," the doctor would answer, "and months and years too."

"Months and years!" he would exclaim. "Why reckon the days? One day is enough for a man to know all happiness. My dear ones, why do we quarrel, try to outshine each other and keep grudges against each other? Let's go straight into the garden, walk and play there, love, appreciate, and kiss each other, and glorify life."

"Your son cannot last long," the doctor told my mother, as she accompanied him the door. "The disease is affecting his brain."

The windows of his room looked out into the garden, and our garden was a shady one, with old trees in it which were coming into bud. The first birds of spring were flitting in the branches, chirruping and singing at the windows. And looking at them and admiring them, he began suddenly begging their forgiveness too: "Birds of heaven, happy birds, forgive me, for I have sinned against you too." None of us could understand that at the time, but he shed tears of joy. "Yes," he said, "there was such a glory of God all about me: birds, trees, meadows, sky; only I lived in shame and dishonoured it all and did not notice the beauty and glory."

"You take too many sins on yourself," mother used to say, weeping.

"Mother, darling, it's for joy, not for grief I am crying. Though I can't explain it to you, I like to humble myself before them, for I don't know how to love them enough. If I have sinned against everyone, yet all forgive me, too, and that's heaven. Am I not in heaven now?"

And there was a great deal more I don't remember. I remember I went once into his room when there was no one else there. It was a bright evening, the sun was setting, and the whole room was lighted up. He beckoned me, and I went up to him. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face tenderly, lovingly; he said nothing for a minute, only looked at me like that.

"Well," he said, "run and play now, enjoy life for me too."

I went out then and ran to play. And many times in my life afterwards I remembered even with tears how he told me to enjoy life for him too. There were many other marvellous and beautiful sayings of his, though we did not understand them at the time. He died the third week after Easter. He was fully conscious though he could not talk; up to his last hour he did not change. He looked happy, his eyes beamed and sought us, he smiled at us, beckoned us. There was a great deal of talk even in the town about his death. I was impressed by all this at the time, but not too much so, though I cried a good deal at his funeral. I was young then, a child, but a lasting impression, a hidden feeling of it all, remained in my heart, ready to rise up and respond when the time came.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 7/12/2006 10:21:00 AM
Wow that is beautiful and inspiring. thank you.

Dancing with delight

Last week I danced with Heather. She just glows with this pure joy when she dances - no flirting, nothing put on, no sexual energy - just the pure joy of dance. I look in her face, and I remember what pure joy feels like.

Every 32 beats, we are apart, and I forget, and we come back together, and I remember what joy looks like again. It fills me with such glory and happiness.

The odd thing is nothing external changed. I danced, I looked into her face, and suddenly I was happy. All she did was remind me that joy is available. The implications are staggering. It means I could have been that happy all along, and I just forgot that the dance was that enjoyable, that the dance makes me happy, that life is a wonderful thing. It's remembering the joy we had as a little kid from just sucking on our toes.

Why can't it be that way all the time? Why am I not accessing this energy all the time? It's inside of me, as my friend Ann always says.

Are there reasons to not be happy? Yes, I can think of some. But most of the time that I am unhappy, the reasons are not valid. Most of my depression comes from repetitive thoughts of the past, and are not in touch with the present moment. Heather was deriving her pleasure from the present moment, from the pure experience of the dance.

There was no desire for anything, nor any fear of losing anything. She knows it's temporary, it will go away - but she also knows it will come back. That absolute security brings her absolute happiness.

We wander around looking for meaning, forgetting the simple joys. There is meaning in happiness. When Heather dances, there's meaning there. It's not nothing. It's absurd to say there's no meaning there. For that instant, the dance is so important, it fulfills her whole being with joy, and she glows.

May we all awaken to the joy inherent in the dance of life.

Comment posted by R in Northern Virginia
at 8/4/2006 10:24:00 AM
Dancing is glorious! I remember the freedom when, as a teenager, I learned how to really move my body. A dear friend of mine, who is, incidentally, a beautiful and talented dancer, taught me. She moved with me, put my hands on her body to better experience the sinewy movements which define the difference between joyful dancing and the fulfilling of an obligation.

Your post really is about living the present moment -another lesson I keep forgetting and relearning--but reminded me of that dance experience--tten years ago, a lifetime for a woman in her twenties.

Keep sharing your thoughts, pleas. I recently discovered your journal and am enjoying it.

Small Details

Days go by, and I hesitate to write in my blog because I don't know if it will please my audience. I so much crave attention from others, as if, like the falling tree in the forest, I would cease to exist if no one heard me. And yet, I know my audience is few - dear friends, yes, but not the world-wide acclaim my ego would hope for to assure me that I am loved.

Today I sit outside with nothing between me and the air, reading the journals of Etty Hillesum, and from her frankness, I am again inspired to write. She details her life as if it matters - as if her feelings about a tree being cut down matter. My tendency is to look for "important" things in my life to share - great insights, clever sayings, dramatic events, as if the rest of my life is not really worth it. Yet the smaller things are important to me, or I would not go through them. I would not have driven to the store to buy eggs for breakfast if it had not mattered - I could just as easily have had cereal. But I took the trouble to dress, go out, go through traffic, go through the cold store, and come back maybe 40 minutes later, just so I could have three fried eggs.

Etty's journals show such intimate delight in her life that I can see that it is the small details that make life worth living - it is noticing and loving the movement of the sun, first as it beat down warmly on my skin, making me sweat, then as it moved behind the house, bringing a refreshing chill on the breeze. This is living, this is what life is about perhaps. We fight wars and diseases and amazing hardships just so we can sit in our backyard and feel the sun and breeze once again on or skin. Is this not the purpose of it all?

Today I am at home, alone, relishing my aloneness. I had planned to be in Oregon today, and I cancelled the trip at the last moment and at significant expense, because something inside me was in agony, struggling to be heard. Too often I ignore what appears to be trivial to me - this time I listened. And in the stillness I see more clearly that I need to speak and live my truth, and how I need to pick my words, not for imagined effect on my popularity, but because it is what I need to say.

Comment posted by Gene
at 7/9/2006 5:32:00 PM
Why, I'm delighted, Sapphire - you're the first new voice on my blog. Thank you for speaking up. Hope more posts speak to you also.

This lesson continues to challenge me - my distain for triviality runs deep, and I need to reach even deeper to find reality. After all, what will be left after we have destroyed the earth and there is no one left to even remember our passing? Nothing - no cures for AIDS, no great philosophies, no technological breakthroughs - nothing except our experience - the fact that one day, a glorious creature basked in glorious sunshine, and was fully aware of the glory of that moment. Perhaps that one day, that one experience, is enough to justify the long journey the universe has travelled to produce such a miracle. Is it possible?

Comment posted by Sapphire
at 7/9/2006 5:15:00 PM
I happened to find your blog on the main page of Blogger and read this post. It is so elloquent. I think many of us fall into that same rut of perhaps starting a blog for ourselves, but then when people visit, our ego swells and then it changes to blogging to keep people coming back for more. We lose sight of the fact that we started the blog for ourselves, not for the masses.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 7/8/2006 8:34:00 PM
I'm glad you said that, Heidi, about loving life and all its little pleasures. It's good to hear from you also. Andy

Comment posted by Heidi
at 7/8/2006 7:27:00 PM
I imagine a professional counselor would have wanted those 3 eggs for breakfast also *grins* It is refreshing for me to hear someone expound on the melacholy of the inner mind only to be calmed by the beauty of the most trivial mysteries of nature in their own back yard. I'm glad others find peace in simplicity - and yes, maybe that's really the purpose of life - just being alive and loving life, I think. God doesn't need us to be important for Him - he's already done it all for us. But I guess sometimes we simply need to feel and express it and that makes it all important to us.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 7/8/2006 8:01:00 AM
Hey, I hear you, Gene, whether you're a falling tree or whatever! Keep letting us know your thoughts and where you're at, and call us together to meet at your home whenever you feel like it, or be alone when you feel like it. (Being alone in a crowd, like at a folk festival, is what I often do; it's better than being really alone at home, although at home at least I can watch cable TV.) We need more people in this world who like attention and add something to other people's lives. It sounds like you're going through some heavy stuff right now that you don't want to keep to yourself, so maybe you would benefit from some professional counseling. Anyway, it's good to tell us what's on your mind. Andy

Shadow - The Final Frontier

I have become dedicated to the ancient edict, "Know thyself". If I am truly the creation of the divine, then getting to know myself is the most immediate way of getting to know the divine. And getting to know myself means getting to know the part of me in shadow as well as in light.

The Shadow is a Jungian term used to describe the parts of ourselves we are not aware of, that tend to act independent of our conscious desire and will. The shadow is simply a part of ourselves that the light of consciousness does not reach. It is not evil; it is simply unknown. Many of us hide our goodness as well as our faults within our shadow.

These days, I find myself digging into my shadow more and more. It is the part of me not yet known, not yet accepted or integrated into who I am. It is the final frontier - the part of me that has eluded my awareness the longest. In it, I believe, lies the secret to who I really am - a divine being on this earth in order to experience being human.

There is ugliness in the shadow, just as a wound can be ugly. But hiding the ugliness prevents help from ariving and healing from taking place. We often shrink from ugliness, especially our own, because we think it makes us bad. Thus we avoid the healing light of consciousness where we need it most.

In order to have the confidence to look into our shadow with curiosity instead of dread, we must know without a doubt that we are good, and what we find has nothing to do with our inherent worth. Otherwise, digging up dirt is just another way of confirming our suspicion that we do not deserve love.

Comment posted by Gene
at 7/9/2006 5:49:00 PM
Yes, all of me is good, including my shadow. The shadow is not something of evil - it is merely something I have hidden from myself. If I do not know I am divine, that means my divinity lies in shadow, and I need the light of consciousness to shine on it so I can know I am divine. Much of us lies in shadow, otherwise we would not act with the ignorance we do.

I hear you, Lee - I still like the word "ugliness" for a reason. Much of what people do, including myself, is ugly. War is ugly. Suicide bombers do ugly things. Politicians who server their own interests instead of the interests of their constituancy are ugly.

Ugly in my mind does not mean bad. A gaping wound in my foot can be ugly, if it is swollen, bleeding, and full of dirt. But the proper response to ugliness is to shine a light on what is ugly, give it careful attention, clean it up, care for it, and bring it back to a healthy place.

For me, this is a kind and loving way of looking at the things I do that I am ashamed of - I am not bad, but sometimes I look at how I act or think, and I cringe - I cringe because I see it is contrary to my divine nature. The person who does not cringe is no longer aware when he is far from his true nature.

Comment posted by Lee
at 6/29/2006 8:43:00 PM
Gene, you said: "In it [shadow], I believe, lies the secret to who I really am - a divine being on this earth in order to experience being human."
I believe the great discovery for you is that you are already a divine being.........you don't need to understand any more of yourself to reach that conclusion.............don't keep looking to find the divine...........feel the divine that is right there within you and look for the divine you haven't discovered!

Gene, you said " There is ugliness in the shadow, just as a wound can be ugly. But hiding the ugliness prevents help from ariving and healing from taking place. We often shrink from ugliness, especially our own, because we think it makes us bad. Thus we avoid the healing light of consciousness where we need it most."

Gene, I'd like to rewrite this..........There is love in the shadow, just as a wound can be love. But hiding the love prevents help from arriving and healing form taking place. We often shrink from love, especially our own, because we are afraid to recogniaze our greatness. Thus we avoid the healing light of consciousness where we need it most......right at home within ourselves.

Often shadow is associated with dark and dark is associated with negative..............there is great love in the shadow. There is not ugliness in my shadow............ugliness is in the eye of the beholder and I'm not ugly nor do I have any ugliness.

I believe that all of me is good, including my shadow; I'm a work in progress. I'm all good and there are good parts of me that I'm trying to make better.

I've spent way too much time on the negative side......I strive to be on the positive side and stay there and improve myself from the positive perspective.

Gene, thanks for giving me a venue to reaffirm my lovliness!

Comment posted by Heidi
at 6/29/2006 5:30:00 PM
I've been thinking about what both of you commented on about philosophies of the hidden self and getting to know the shadow.
It sounds like you are both intrigued more with the fearful elements (although you do mention the more desireable ones that may also be hidden.)

In my experience, I have been so deeply exposed to the "thou shalt nots" the forbidden rules of society, culture and peer groups the sense of shame and guilt that I've lost much of my child-like self confidence and desire for self-love.

I hope you are right that in my journey, I can re-discover how to love myself as much as I strive to love others!

I've been on a journey lately that speaks to the beauty within and I'm struggling with recognizing that inner peace. I think I am far too familiar with the fearful side (probably not my shadow at all anymore) I am quite a stranger to loving my own inner person as fully as I would like.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 6/29/2006 11:54:00 AM
I agree with what you say, Gene. I am not so familiar with Jungian psychology and the "shadow", but I know that Freudian psychology recognizes the id as well as the ego and the superego, and both Jung and Freud recognized the subconscious, I believe, and that it influences us without us fully realizing it. Eastern religion recognizes the chakras, energy centers in our body, which include the lowest chakra related to sex, reproduction, and self preservation, and that we need a balancing of the chakras, that each is a natural part of us. Religion tries to fill in gaps in scientific knowledge with faith and myths that sometimes turn out to be wrong in light of scientific discoveries. Modern science recognizes biological evolution leading to the development of humans, who rise above nature in our sense of morality, and our society, folkways, intelligence and technology, and exploring the universe, yet we are still a part of nature, still having physical needs and limitations including mortality regardless of what we may believe about an afterlife. I believe in living one life at a time. Christianity talks about "original sin" and our selfish nature, but I also believe in "original goodness", our natural feeling of love and caring for each other based on empathy aside from any religion-based belief in divine rewards and punishments or in a spiritual command to "love ye one another" or "love thy neighbor as thyself", which assumes that we do love ourselves, a healthy self-esteem and wanting to enjoy life. I agree with the saying "know thyself", including what is in our "shadow" or subconscious or selfish side of each of us as a basic part of ourselves. There is a saying, by some Jewish thinker, I believe, that being strong (morally) includes controlling our passions. Recently I went to a discussion of "Have we learned anything from religion?" I have found that I have some things to unlearn from my protestant Christian religious upbringing. During the 1960's, that wonderful golden age of love, flower power, and breaking free, there was the saying, "If it feels good do it, as long as it doesn't hurt anybody". I agree with what one Jewish thinker said, that "the good life" includes enjoyment as well as morality. Here's to the good life! Andy

The Would-Be Guru

It has been a real blow to my ego to discover, after I'd been writing this blog for several weeks, that the world has apparently not been desperately waiting to learn every profound thought and experience of my life. Even friends don't seem to have caught on to the vast amounts of wisdom they could be gaining if only they would read my blog. My guru image is being severely threatened.

It has challenged me to question why I am doing this. I know that I have a strong desire to be seen and heard, and the idea of putting myself out on the world wide web for all to see was very appealing. And, as far as I can tell, I have very few readers, or at least commenters. But I continue to write, even though the fantasy of becoming one of the most widely read blogs on the web has quickly faded.

So why do I continue? I discover it does something to me to write, and to be potentially exposed, even if no one ever reads what I write. I know they could, and that makes a difference to me. I am challenged to ask who I am, how I want to present myself to the world, what do I choose to hide and what do I choose to show, and why.

How much my fantasy of greatness continues to fuel my posts, I don't know.

Comment posted by Gene
at 7/9/2006 5:39:00 PM
Hi, Lee. You ask good questions. "Do you think you are wise and great, and if so, do you need others to validate that or convince you?" Yes, a part of me indulges in the fantasy that everything I do is wonderful. Another part indulges in the thought that nothing I do has any worth at all. I know that reality is neither, but that does not always stop me from acting out from these extremes."

"Why does it make a difference [if people could read your blog]?" Because when I harbor fantasies about myself, there is no challenge, other than my own vigilence, to the fantasy. When I consider putting it out on the web, I suddenly am faced with the spectacle of hundreds of people reading my claims, and it sobers me. I have to stop and consider what I *really* believe about myself, and not just what I fantasize. So the exposure forces me to be more honest with myself. (After all, what would people think of me if they caught me lying??? :) )

Thanks for your input.

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 6/28/2006 5:41:00 PM
I try my best to keep as low a profile on my ego as I possibly can and I'm not always successful. To be doing something so that others will feed the hungry ego is a process to be examined. It's looking outside one's self for self validation instead of writing the blog purely from energy within to feed the energy within.

"I know that I have a strong desire to be seen and heard" Why do you have that desire. Do you want people to look up to you (in the physical sense, they already do!); do you want to be seen as wise or great? If so, where does this need come from? Do you think you are wise and great and if so, do you need others to validate that or convince you?

"I discover it does something to me to write, and to be potentially exposed, even if no one ever reads what I write."
This is writing more from within........for you! You put yourself out there for YOU and what others do with it is their choice. You are not responsibe for them; your blog cannot rescue them, they must do that themselves.

"I know they could [read the blog] and that makes a difference to me"
Again, I ask, why, why does it make a difference? Apparently Andy has been reading your blog but you didn't realize that. Do you feel differently now, why? You really don't know what he thinks of your blog, but you know he's reading it............so what now?

I'm not saying we should all be islands and what others say and think about us doesn't have some meaning and purpose. I believe humans to be social creatures. But I am concerned when actions are generated for the purpose of feeding an ego rather than for the action itself and letting the Universe decide the fate of the action.

I hope some of this makes some sense............Lee

Comment posted by Anonymous
at 6/28/2006 12:08:00 AM
I read everything you put on the internet, Gene, even though I don't always reply. By the way, I was out of town at the Old Songs Festival, a great folk festival, near Albany, NY, and returned late Monday, otherwise I would have replied sooner. Andy