Intermission

Hardly got squat done on the costume last night. My creative bone went on strike with my three remaining brain cells, stole the car and went to the bars in Ybor for a rampant night of carousing. I stayed home drooling.

Talked to Cindy. She saw her costume online from her trip to Georgia and loves it. She's the one I have to please on this project, after all.

Found the following from Deepak Chopra with whom I have a like/barf relationship with. One line struck me though. I get up most mornings and sing praises of thanks about how very lucky I am. I love my rickety old, hurricane damaged and disorderly house, the gone back-to-the-wild acre of land it sits on, the wonderful views of water and nature I have from every door and window, and I'm so grateful that I've been privileged to live on a gorgeous planet. And not everyone can say that they have a cat that lives on their roof.

The line I highlighted below just tickled me since I have the strangest dislike for the falseness of money, wealth, objects showing it and the desire to accumulate more. Have been that way all my life. Now shiny objects and lint...there will never be enough of!

Adapted from How to Know God, by Deepak Chopra (Three Rivers Press, 2000)

The state of “I am” is at the source, and is pure being. “I am” forgoes pain and pleasure. Because all desire is centered on pain and pleasure, it comes as a surprise to find out that what I wanted all along was just to be. There are many kinds of worthwhile lives to lead. Is it worthwhile to lead the life of “I am”? You can live any way you want. By analogy, think of the world as a movie that includes everything; you cannot tell in any way that it is a movie; therefore, everyone behaves as if the scenario is real.

If you suddenly woke up and realized that nothing around you was real, what would you do? First of all, certain things would happen involuntarily. You wouldn’t be able to take other people’s drama seriously. The smallest irritants and the greatest tragedies, a pebble in your shoe and World War II, become equally unreal. Your detachment might set you apart, but you could keep it to yourself.

Motivation would also vanish, because there’s nothing to achieve in a dreamworld. Poverty is as good as a million dollars when it’s all play money. Emotional attachments would also drop away, since no one’s personality is real anymore. After you consider all these changes, not much choice is left. The end of illusion is the end of experience as we know it. What do you receive in exchange? Only reality, pure and unvarnished.

You shouldn’t pay so much attention to the movie.

If someone asks “Who are you?” every answer is misleading except “I am,” which means that we are all misled, even the miracle workers. We are the victims of mistaken identity. Our time has been spent projecting versions of reality, including versions of God, that are inadequate.

(Ed. Note* The photo above is Titled: Waiting for Curtain-Up by Rob Wallace - Wonderful photos!)

Give Peace A Chance

I've got bidness today. Lots of it. Had to get myself up at 8:30 which is insane for me with my diurnal rhythms set to night owl. Got an MRI on my brain to see if they can spot the reason for the tremors and jerks I've developed and take drugs for and for the muscle weakness on my left side. Hell. I don't care if I wave spontaneously at strangers. I'm gregarious, after all. Those who love me take it all in stride. They're very used to my various quirks and eccentricities.

Some epilepsy is in my mother's paternal Drury genome but I don't think it's that. Having been very much active around horses and having several car wrecks (and a sky diving incident that almost made the papers), have pounded my collection of appendages, including my head. Picking and singing in bars and bartending while drinking my share of whatever altered grain, fruits and nuts, and my continued admiration for a good bottle of wine have also probably added to neuron dysfunction. Ain't life fun?

So. After getting bombarded with photons for my tremors, I had a cat scan to find out if I'm trying to pass kidney stones - also probably due to the gallons of wine must I have imbibed over the course of years. I've switched to whites. Easier on the head and your poop has a more natural shade to it.

Took costumes over to Cindy. Yes. I'm retired, but agreed to do this special one thing for her. 1880s Appalachian don't you know, complete with drawers, brogans and petticoats. Took care of some chores here at home and will try to slip in a nap before I go off to protest tonight during rush hour.

This is not some of my normal daily bitching. I'm attending a Move On protest in Brandon for a Peace Vigil to stop the war. As if it will do any good. I'm tired. And frustrated. I was taught that you always fight against inequity and engage yourself in local politics and bigger issues. This is also a genetic thing I think. But I will go out on US 60 with the rest of the peace marchers and wave my signs. I will dress in sensible Florida weather clothing and wave my sign at rush hour traffic. I'm as hopeful about this bringing about the end of the Iraq invasion as I was about sending off 9 letters demanding that Congress and the Senate impeach the remaining idiots left on duty at the White House on 8/18/2007.

But, I'm my mother's daughter and will go out to brave the crowds and the heat. She and my dad always said to open your mouth and never let bullies get away with their crimes. I want those good young men and women home. I want them to be treated well and compensated for their wounds. I want them to have their benefits upped instead of cut into. I want them to get the mental care they'll need to cope with life after war. I want them to know that I don't blame them for the shit of a mess in Mesopotamia. My reward will be one of Alexander's dirty martinis to add to the calcificaiton in my kidneys afterwards.

March on.