I Found It

“All words are pegs to hang ideas on.” --Henry Ward Beecher

Ever since I stumbled upon a guru who said “If you’re angry you’re  stupid.”  I’ve been angry.

I am tired of all this BS about how wonderful we should be. We can’t even use our God-given emotions to express ourselves, for heaven sake.

That’s stupid.

If I were being chewed on by a lion, I’d be pretty pissed off.

See why I shut down my website Brunch for the Soul?

While I believe in Brunch, and I believe in the Soul, I have too much of an edge to write about it, except in the terms I am about to put forth.

I knew I could write about the soul, and I knew I had psychological insight, but also I didn’t want to be syrupy sweet. I didn’t want to stand in front of a mirror and tell myself how beautiful I was. If I knew I was beautiful I wouldn’t need to stand in front of a mirror and tell myself lies.

If I knew I was rich, I wouldn’t have to give myself affirmations about richness. I would be it.

All this belief that we ought to be happy all the time is just telling us that we aren’t.

If we feel unhappy, we feel bad about being unhappy.

Then we feel guilty. Then we feel bad about feeling guilty. If we get angry, we feel bad about feeling angry.  If we make a mistake, we feel bad about our ineptitude.

We wonder what’s wrong with us, and that little voice at the back of our head agrees with our badness and says, yep, you’re not good enough.

No wonder people go out and shoot things/people up.

If this loop has ever caught you, you know what I am talking about.

You are going to feel bad sometimes. You are going to be angry. So what?

You’re human.  If you’re an animal, know that yep, you’re going to get angry too.

Humans, though, have a particular brain that thinks about what it is thinking. I don’t know if animals do.

This morning as I perused Instagram (I do love it) I saw pictures that were so gorgeous and of far-away places that they looked straight out of National Geographic. Normally, I oh and ah, but this morning, I said, “Oh for heaven's sake.”

I felt small in photographing my red peony carried into the kitchen from my backyard.

Hey, it’s my life, and I’m not apologizing for it.

Comparison is something we can drop too.

Know that I love you,

Joyce

P.S.  Brunch for the Soul morphed into this: Don't know how it will twist yet.

http://www.plottwist747.com

 Think of this as an Oregon pinot noir--(One of Oregon's best), pairs well with CHOCOLATE

 

It's a Zoo Around Here

While demolition is fun, restoration is not.

In the middle of the night when my brain monitor is off, the immensity of the yard job ahead plagues me. Remember the tractor fun we had in the yard? Now it’s a mess.

Sleep experts say that as we sleep our brain monitor turns off. That turn off gives our primitive brain a chance to plays games with us.

Hum.

Experts tell us all sorts of things.  The other night  I watched a Bible scholar explain the four ways Jesus got to be God. And that his own disciples didn’t know who in the heck he was.  Was He always God?  Is He separate from the Father? Are He and the Father one? How then, can he pray to the father? (Intuition?) Was he “adopted?” Did he claim it?

It’s enough to scramble one’s brain.

And it did scramble a lot of brains until one old Emperor got tired of all the squabbling and declared one aspect to be right. The Trinity won out. Three in one, that can really scramble the brain.

And of course, there was the Council of Nicea who decided which books were inspired by God and therefore deserved to be in the Bible.

I bet there was a lot of arguing there.

I am feeling overwhelmed.  One aspect is the torn up yard where my back looks at it and says, “Don’t dig.” But that (front) yard has become an embarrassment. My daughter said yesterday, “Only now?”

“Well, the first week it was construction. Now it’s a mess.”

And yesterday I found that some thief had transferred $2,200 out of our checking account, and it took all afternoon with me in the Bank and the Banker on the phone to the Fraud Department to clean up the mess. Now we have a new account, and that means I need to reschedule all the automatic additions and subtractions, and I’m leery about going online, and about the security of the Bank.

Confession is good for the soul, so they say.

My other site “Brunch for the Soul,” is gone, kaput. I figured it was too sweet for someone with an edge such as I have.

I changed that site to Plot Twist 747. I figured since I was all over the place I might as well declare it.

And 747?  Well, that’s a fast plot twist. (Think Boeing 747.) Besides, I couldn’t get the simple name of “Plot Twist,” as a domain.

And I turn around and hear a “Cluck cluck.” The hen followed Lafayette, the dog, into the house.

Lafayette can push open the back door, and the hen rides shotgun, entering on his heels.

And how is it at your house?

Carry on.

Keep the faith.

Joyce

 PS. I purchased the wine glass, so I ought to use it. I thought it was cool that you can see through the glass to whatever background is behind it. My background is a simple swiping of watercolors. One way to get my favorite colors. http://www.plottwist747.com