Here is how I see it: The GOP had eight years, eight years(!) to prepare for this. And what do we get? Donald Trump. Reality show host, real estate mogul, WWE stooge and daddy’s little boy. Principles and personalities aside, I have to think that someone’s very first elected office should not be, should never be, can not possibly be President of the United States. Defies tradition, logic and any other sensibility you want to include. His opponent, Mrs.Clinton? I truly have never been much of a fan. Her star is dimming, it seems, by the hour. Your rival spoon feeds you a “nasty” Internet meme and you lose ground(?) I am no political tactician, but it may be pretty basic stuff that you do not want your name mentioned in the same paragraph as Anthony Weiner ten days before the election. This guy makes Billy Bush look like Rob Petrie for crying out loud. Her biggest asset? That she is not him, which is not saying much.

So it is a mess. Hot, cold or room temperature. I feel we deserve better as a voting public. Most eligible citizens will not bother to vote, and there is a small part of me that does not blame them even a little. Ideally one would be informed on the local level, read up on ballot questions and referendums in your municipality, know and understand the players. But the top of the ballot it's such an unctuous disaster (and I mean that as bigly as I can) that people may stay away in droves. And that would be . . . “Wrong!” But it may be the most intelligent decision you can make.

Three Little Words

First of all – there is no winner and loser declared here. Neither candidate is going anywhere, both camps are claiming victory and the Undecideds do not have rallies or press conferences. So we can not really measure.

     But there were two separate points, late in the debate where Trump’s choice of words left me uneasy. (Now ‘bigly’ left me very uneasy because it is not a word, but maybe I misheard.) 

     First - Trump’s use of the word stamina was a huge look into his makeup, his identity. That is one of those masculine sounding descriptives that has been used to keep women down, to keep them employed at seventy cents on the dollar for generations. In Trump’s universe (and this goes for a cadre of like-thinkers) women are not equal to men. They are lacking, incomplete, less than. In this example, they lack stamina. How he would be so certain about her stamina levels is beyond me. Oddly enough her handlers had her prepared – her comeback was spot on and got a rare (Holt forbid) applause point.

     Second – when ‘your president’ rolled of his tongue so easily, I cringed. (Worth noting that he seemed preoccupied with President Obama and former President Clinton from the get go, to his disadvantage.) But to aver that Obama was her (and certainly not his) president shows a lack of both intelligence and patriotism. That is simply not how this electoral process works. Two parties select one candidate apiece and both candidates compete and vie for our support. It can get ugly, that is what we do. Votes are counted, a winner is declared and he, or maybe even she, becomes our President. Our. President. Reagan was my president. Bush and Bush II were my presidents. Nixon was (I just got a little chest pain, maybe gas . . .) my president. Get over it – it has been eight freaking years! You lost. You have almost singlehandedly guaranteed another eight years of the same. (You had help, I get that . . .)

He was woefully unprepared, carried himself like the mean-spirited bully that he is and did little, in my opinion, to further his cause.

1/31/1997

     My father was admitted to the hospital last night. Emergency Room, then room 4B20. And now he lies here with me. Vannessa has gone home to pick up some things and call his older brother Tom and his younger brother Jim. The last journal entry concerned the death (or at least my notification of the death) of Jerome Garcia. Named for Jerome Kern, American songwriter. Now - the impending death of Charles Carroll Carr, named for Charles Carroll, American patriot, looms large.

     Will I only write about death, dying, and the notification of same(?) Good question. At least I have the urge to put pen to paper and he would be proud. Is proud - too early for the past tense. 

     The journal began in an idyllic, innocent fashion - on vacation, the Stephen Taber, remember? Kept it up for a week after, then nothing. Jerry passed and my life changed in ways that now I can appreciate. They were family too me - The Dead, Deadheads. Family I lacked. Now a genuine family member, my Dad (remember?) lies here with me. Again I feel like writing.

     Cancer - radiation treatments that enclosed the holidays in an unusual gloom. They would end soon, he would get better - right? Wrong.

     If anything, they were the beginning of the end. (This is the end - right?) We endured, together, a forced cheerfulness, yet at least together. A routine evolved: pick up, park the car, treatment, breakfast and drop off. Talk of Jazz, politics and young James - his other son, my half-brother. (God - what an awkward term!)

     Once finished, my involvement anyway, (James was home, able to help) we drifted slightly apart. Christmas Day we spent together, the first one in a long time. The last I remember him being him (you know - My Dad).

     Then quickly, way too quickly, a downward spiral that landed us, together again, here. Punctuated, News Of The World style, by ominous bulletins - he was disoriented, he fell, six times, he fell into the English Muffin display at the supermarket. (Thomas’s? I didn’t ask . . .) Vannessa, poor Vannessa, let’s do something.

     She did, and here we are.

[Fragment of a Journal I can only vaguely remember. Typed verbatim 7/25/2016. Attempts to locate the Stephen Taber entries proceed.]

Third in a Series of Three.

Breathing Exercises: week three

Perils, pitfalls, distractions. Any conversation I have had regarding the difficulty, lack of success, frustration (pick one) with this practice has contained some variation on the following: “I can’t stop thinking!” So – what is up with that? A quick review of any basic instructions will reveal one thing – we were never asked to stop thinking. The mind thinks, that is what it does. The ears hear, the eyes see, the skin feels, and so on. What, then, do we do with these thoughts? First, realize that it is common to get sidetracked, lost in thought. Notice the thought, acknowledge the thought, try not to follow the thought with the story that it seems to create. We can acknowledge the thought by giving it a name. A “planning thought”, a “remembering thought”, a “future thought”. (The last two come complete with entire scenarios! What I should have done, what she should have done. What I am going to do or say.) And then – let the thought go. If it helps, you can say something like “busy, busy mind”. What will not help is to become judgmental of your efforts. “I can’t do this!” Return at once to your breathing. “In. I am breathing in. Out. I am breathing out.” Or, if you prefer, you can count your breaths: in is one, out is two and so on. Stop at ten and return to one. We can then pick up where we left off whenever we release a thought.

No matter how we have sequestered ourselves, the outside world can and does intrude. Accept the interruption and resume your practice. Once we have completed our breathing exercise, our meditation, our mindfulness practice – try and make a gradual transition back into your day. Be congratulatory! If you set out to sit for seven minutes or thirty minutes and you accomplished just that – be nice to yourself.

Hopefully these three short posts will engage and encourage. What is working? What is not working? 

Thank you.

Phase Two in which Doris gets her oats!

Breathing Exercises: week two, sort of!

Greetings – I introduced some basic practices in my last post. They were intentionally easy. Easy to begin, easy to continue. My goal was to throw an air of success over the whole activity. To move from “I can’t ______” to somewhere closer to “I can”!

Where we want to head next is to increase frequency with an eye to increasing the duration of the sit. Initially, in a given week, we want to be engaged in our practice more days that we miss. So set your sights on four days. If you miss some consecutive days, if you miss a week – just start over at your most recent level. For example – you sit for five minutes on Wednesday and then forget about the whole thing for a week. Can you start over? Absolutely – simply sit for another five minutes and commit to beginning again.

Some suggestions: consider adopting the same time of day and the same place as your time, your space. You can create a meditation/breathing spot in your home. Simply walking by will remind you of your commitment to this. Also, let family and friends in on what is happening. It may reinforce your practice once we announce our intention(s).  Of course a partner is even better! Even if you do not practice side by side, knowing someone else is in on this with you is a great source of encouragement.

So, for this week and next – sitting more often than not sitting and gradually extended the time of your practice.

My next post will talk about thoughts, distractions, and other common pitfalls.

Thanks.

Breathing Exercises: week one

(some stuff I put together for a Spirit of Mentoring group I am a part of at work)


Sit comfortably, a chair is fine – there is no one way to sit . I keep my hips higher than my knees, my shoulders over my hips and my ears over my shoulders. Arrange your hands comfortably in your lap.
Start with some deep breaths – take a deep breath through your nose and let it out through the mouth. Try three of these. Slowly let your eyes close and begin to find the rhythm of your breathing. Your attention is on the breath. Say to yourself “In. I am breathing in. Out. I am breathing out.” When thoughts come up, simply acknowledge the thought and gently re-direct your attention to the breath.
You can use a timer to measure the amount of time that you sit. Your phone or any kitchen timer is useful. Make the length of this exercise ridiculously easy to attain. One minute. Three minutes. Get comfortable with the process. You can gradually lengthen the duration.
Some tips: try and practice this exercise at the same time and in the same place every day. This will become your time and your space. I use the morning, before anyone else is up and before my day gets away from me. I began by setting my alarm slightly earlier. Plus you leave the house with a small feeling of accomplishment. There is no wrong way to do this! Keep a beginners mind and attitude. Remember learning to ride a bike?  

So - Here's what's gonna happen. Might happen. All of the photos associated with previous posts will be gone. Lost. Maybe.
Here's why: I have a crazy family member (I hope no one ever holds that against me . . .). Made even crazier by the prospect of a large inheritance (which he was/is not entitled to) and by the selective remembrances, unabashed distortion, and a seeming unending willingness to rewrite history and pillorize those with both a better than average memory and a strong desire to make things right.
Which is a long winded (believe you me it could have been exponentially longer) and slightly cathartic attempt to say: I have to change my email address.
I created a new account, and am still in the process of moving things over. With an unappreciated tenacity, Google has made the unscrambling of email, YouTube subscription and, yes, Blogger (dare I say it) Byzantine, at best! God bless them though - there must be good reason for all this . . .
Changing the authorship of the blog was perhaps the easiest. But I will lose all the photos associated with earlier posts, when and if I delete the other account. Although I had to manually cut and paste my Reading List, paring it down to a manageable seven blogs which I am 'following' (although 'reading' only one). YouTube? I will probably have to ditto Michael de Miranda (bongos), Minute Physics (what it says), Watercourseway1 (Zen, Watts) and TED Talks . . .
So, to my two devoted followers and anyone else lost here for a moment - that's what's up!
Further on up the road . . .