This comes from Rita. It’s her musing on life and death and spirituality. She tells me to warn you that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. This is true. But then again, who gets to avoid a cup of tea of life and death and spirituality.
You be the judge . . . if you want.
And if you like this, go to her blog and like it and become an email or WordPress follower.
Have a fabulous weekend.
Before the snow came, I burned rotten, misshapen wood. Dirty wood, not even worth cutting up for the woodstove. Wood filled with unremovable, wayward screws. Such fires are my last resort. Enduring the scorn of my carpenters, I save every scrap of wood—wood that was once a seed that grew into a tree that was […]
via Fire — Short visits with an honest God
While visiting my parents recently an older gentleman on a scooter rode up and greeted me. We had a friendly conversation within the confines of my parents’ gated community. He said his dog had mistaken me for his son. I looked down and saw a small dog or large rodent sniffing my shoes. Then his son emerged from the house. The son was quite animated as he was taking a smoke break from his online gaming.
The next morning I saw the son again. He was pedaling his bicycle slowly, smoking, and looking rather like a homeless man. He didn’t seem to recognize me.
I found myself thinking I felt reassured that the older gentleman’s very small dog obviously had a very small brain.
But who am I to say whom or what I do or do not resemble. Maybe I’m more like a gaming and smoking homeless man on the street than I think. After all, I can’t see myself very well anyway.
This is the nature of my internal conversations. A swing towards the too critical and too judgmental followed by a swing back toward self-critique.
This might be why B.F. Skinner suggested that thinking is irrelevant.
This also might be why I have a blog and not a dog.