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Author: Netta

CONNECT WITH NATURE OR NOT (Another IPS)

CONNECT WITH NATURE OR NOT (Another IPS)

Another IPS (Inner Peace Symptom):  a tendency to notice what you are noticing and to ask why you’re noticing it.  [Sometimes you notice things that call to your heart and your heart responds by dancing.  The best move then is to go do more of that dance….]

Have you noticed the latest trend (especially after the pandemic lockdown) toward hugging trees, galaxy-gazing, mooning over wilderness landscapes and generally dissing our man-made constructs and urban follies?

Going-Outside-with-the-capital-O has become the new default mode of operation.  (Mostly ‘cause it’s pretty boring being stuck inside-with-no-capital-I, even with all the latest gadgets and doo-dads.)

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ALOHA AND GRIT

ALOHA AND GRIT

And now…we interrupt our regular post-building for an important public service announcement:

As Hawaii trudges through the COVID-19 pandemic, PBS Hawaiʻi is reaching into our vast video archive to share pearls of wisdom about living with and getting past adversity. This campaign features brief but potent manaʻo online, on social media and on-air between regular programming.

The non-profit, statewide television station, with support from the Kamehameha Schools, are building what they are calling “a community resilience program.”  They are calling the program, “What’s It Going to Take: Aloha&grit,” and it is a beaut.

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DO WHAT YOU CAN

DO WHAT YOU CAN

In the spring of 2020, world paradigms changed.

On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization (WHO) officially declared that the Novel Coronavirus Disease, Covid-19, was a pandemic.

This came after China reported in December, 2019 that there had been more than one instance of a weird life-threatening respiratory illness in Wuhan, the capital and major industrial and commercial center in Hubei province.

The health-care professionals at WHO watched how the new disease spread and the effects it had on people wherever it popped up around the world.

The media, social platforms, and assorted rumor-mills went into overdrive trying to figure out what the heck was going on.  Panic attacks and near-terminal confusion ensued.

Almost immediately after the WHO pandemic declaration the world-as-we-knew-it shut down.  The rules changed and they still keep on morphing. 

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LET YOUR FREAK FLAG FLY

LET YOUR FREAK FLAG FLY

I’ve got some news for you:  Just because you are “eccentric” (weird, quirky, odd, freakish, peculiar, unorthodox, unconventional, different…whatever you want to call that thing you do), it does NOT necessarily mean you are a Creative.  It does not indicate that you are Innovative and/or a Genius.

Got some other news for you:  It’s all good anyhow.

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BABY WISDOM

BABY WISDOM

As you know, I invite everybody to send in a poem of their own making that holds meaning and mana for them.  I ask that the poets share the back-story about the poem.  The poems are often a delight and the back-stories are always interesting.

The following poem came from Andy Bia, a fellow online entrepreneur whose blog, BAD INVESTMENT ADVICE (And Ways to Avoid It), covers “the basics of the modern tools and markets” in the stock market world.  His site focuses on making the esoteric world of finance more understandable for regular folks.

The blog stance is really sensible.  If you get confused by the jargon and don’t even understand what all the mavens and pros are talking about, how can you (as a wanna-be financial wiz) make sensible decisions?  Concepts come first, then action.

Andy says he is “not a financial professional.”  I say he is still a wise guy.

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AT A CROSSROADS

AT A CROSSROADS

Crossroads are an everyday, ordinary bit of magic.  Each one is the meeting place of potentialities – where you can pause to consider all of the different Maybes of your mind.  Each one is a demand that you make some sort of choice.

Legend has it that a crossroads is a meeting place of time and space, a magical but dangerous place where a traveler is likely to meet witches and demons.  Crossroads are sacred to Hecate, an underworld goddess of the ancient Greeks. 

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BEND THAT CODE YOUR WAY

BEND THAT CODE YOUR WAY

It’s a survival thing.  When a person is an Outsider — someone who doesn’t “belong” to a group of one sort or another for whatever reason — there is a kind of invisible barrier that rises up between them and the people who do belong to that group.

It’s a very real divide.

“Same” is good, the prevailing culture code says; “different” not so much.  It’s a built-in herd thing, I suppose.

Every group has a culture code.  Every group will say that there is Right and True and Real and then there is not-right and not-true and not-real.

Everybody who identifies with a particular group (or wants to) is likely to act and at least pretend to think the same way.  They all do the same sorts of things.

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UN-SEEING: Mastering Surrender

UN-SEEING: Mastering Surrender

So, I’m sitting there grousing about how dizzy I’m making myself trying to get a handle on the paradoxical concept of “Surrender”.

The Light of My Life does his Mysterious Mystic grin and tells me, “Surrender is the seed of beginning to see that you are the source of your world.  IF YOU ARE FIGHTING AGAINST YOURSELF, YOU LOSE.

My jaw dropped.

He retells one of my favorite stories, about the time when he was a youngster living in a palapa on the beach for a few months at Playa de los Muertos in Puerto Vallarta before it became a tourist destination.

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SOUL QUESTION

SOUL QUESTION

Here’s another free-form poem by guest poet James Ray.  It was posted on his site, WAR INC, in July, 2019.  He says he wrote it while he was having his Semi repaired on a very quiet and clear night.

“I looked up at the stars, as I’ve been known to do, and wished (not for the first time) that I did it with someone who could answer this question for me.  All the easy questions of why and where here, but that one slips away time and time again.

 “My soul, why is it here? What now? I dream to meet someone to dream and answer it with….
Souls are eternal but not all knowing
.”


What of my soul?

For the love of a tree. For the love of a branch. For the affection of the air. For the warmth of the ocean. For the touch of Terra firma.

I live for none of these things. I live because biology fills my lungs, oxygenates my blood. The electricity of my body chemistry powers my heart. The seemingly random flashes of my synapses activate my brain.

What of my soul? What does my soul live for? Why would anyone care? I can live without it. Many do. I can run from one thing to another in a never-ending attempt of validation. Many have. I can curse my existence and snuff out those who have found their souls. Many will.

What of my soul? What purpose should it have? Who should give it to me? What do I do if I choose the wrong? How shall I heal it if injured? How shall I grow it, for it to gain strength?

Stand with me on this warm summer night, as i gaze up at the stars and sky. Leave me not alone to ponder this quest on my own. I cannot love man for man does not love me. I cannot be affectionate with Earth because Earth precedes me. I cannot be comfort to the creatures of the wild. For they are not of my kind. I can not love me for I am man.

Sit with me as I gaze of the Stars. The birthplace for which I yearn to return. Speak for me on my behalf to all the creators. Besiege on my behalf, “Hear him for he has pondered long.” Creators! Cosmic occurrence! Singularity! Give to me the answer that I watch for. Or give to me proper question to ask. For a thing as small as mercy, surely do not leave me here alone with my question.

Travel with me part ways on my Odyssey. Only the final Journey should be journeyed alone. Break bread with me, make every morsel meaningful. Witness the scent with me, enhance my senses. And in the end comfort me and be an anchor from this world to the next.

What of my soul? What is enough? What must I do. On this warm summer night gazing the stars and moon. Sing me a song of few words. Hum me a melody of few notes. Give me a friendship of love, more than I deserve.

For the love of a tree for the love of me. For as far as I can see. For as much as I can be. Sit with me on warm grass, twinkling sky, half shone Moon, on warm summer’s night. And tell me what of my soul.


Header Photo credit:  “Starry Night Scene Looking West” by Russ Seidel via Flickr [CC BY-NC-ND 2.0]

Cool, James….

And you:  thanks for your visit.  I’d appreciate it if you would drop a note or comment below and tell me your thoughts.

(And if you would like to share a poem of your making that has meaning and mana for you, please go to the “Guest Poet Portal” in the header menu and submit it.  We will all be happy you did.)

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TO YOURSELF BE KIND (Another IPS)

TO YOURSELF BE KIND (Another IPS)

One day I happened to overhear a good friend of mine – one of the most generous and selflessly giving people I know – beating up on herself unmercifully.

She was spazzing about how she had fallen down off her (very high) standards-of-conduct bar because she had not stopped to listen (yet again) to a high-maintenance friend’s continuing saga about how everybody was picking on her and how not-right everything in her life was.

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