Nothing in Particular


Do you ever feel the urge to write, but have no idea what on earth you are going to write about? Well, it has been a little bit since I did a blog, and so I decided to start typing and see what happens. I am reminded of a time in high school when one of our teachers explained a bit about a style of writing known as “stream of consciousness.” Basically, in “stream of consciousness,” you write your thoughts as they occur—all randomosity included.

There is something beautiful about doing this. I feel a deep sense of peace. A consciousness of being. A consciousness of repeatedly using the word “consciousness.” A giggle at this seeming overuse. How deeply amusing life is . . .

I am watching a slideshow right now in my family room. Little moments—little glimpses into existence, experience. Growth, yet the same essence. I watch the progression of years. Growth, yet the same essence.

I wonder what Walt Whitman is doing right now?

I wonder if he’s ever met Walt Disney?

I wonder if they’ve ever done a waltz before?

Walt is a fun name. I like the sound of that name. Walt. So funny. So fun. I like “Walt.” It’s a happy name. I feel like dancing thinking about the sound of this name. It’s musical. I want to tap-dance. Walt. Walt—Walt—Walt—Walt—Walt!!! Hahahaha. So fun.

I’d like to give them both hugs. They’re my family, you know. Part of my big human family.

I like humans. They’re funny. They give me giggles. Oh, humans!

Hello, Again!


It’s been a while since I last wrote on here. I thought I would pop in again and say “hello”!

Life has continued to be one wacky learning adventure. My paradigm has been shifted once more—and I suspect that’s going to be something that keeps happening.

I wanted to talk about the joys I have discovered in learning today. You see, if you start off knowing everything (in the know-it-all-sense), it’s a bit of a bummer. What’s there to discover? What’s there to find? You can tout your knowledge, go about feeling all superior to the ignorant masses, and wind up miserable and lonely with no real, genuine relationships. But at least you’re better than everyone else? Right? Am I right?

What happens when you fail? You find out that you’re not as smart as you thought? (At least according to one of the many arbitrarily-made human standards out there!) Boom. There goes your value as a human being, you worthless little ignoramus.

I know what it is like to experience the pressure to perform like a circus-monkey. To please people. To “have it all together.” “Make a good impression.” To appeal and appease. To avoid making any single wrong move that someone could call you out on and thereby degrade your value as a person.

That’s all pure hell.

I’m going to know what I know when I know it. I may not always be “right.” I may not always be “correct.” I may even make typos. Misspell stuff because my brain feels sleepy. I may royally fall on my face a couple of times. But I am alive. I am learning. I exist. It’s a wonder; that’s what it is!

All this to say, you jolly people, you have permission to BE! Learn! Love! Have epic adventures, precious ones! And don’t be afraid of making mistakes.



Mr. Truth and the Con-Man


Every so often, I run into some pitiful, depressing sort of message, article, and/or piece information that claims “I am Reality; I am Truth.”

I like to laugh at such things.


Because I find the underlying logic required to believe them preposterous.

Have you ever met a con man? Somebody pretending to be someone or something that they are not? Bold. Fresh. Confident. They must be who they are because they claim to be who they are. Why question them? After all, they are confident. 

Now, suppose one of them walks right in the door. He’s got the strut. He’s got the swag. And he says, “Hello. My name is Mr. Truth. Care for a dance?”

He bats those long eyelashes at you. 

Suppose you believe him. Now, from this point on, everything he says or does—everything you notice or observe—about him will register and be identified with “Mr. Truth.”

Now, suppose he’s a rather wicked man. He rapes you, steals your wallet, slanders your best friend, blows up an elementary school, deliberately starts World War III,  and . . . well, you get my drift. 

What’s your grid for “Truth” going to be?

If you continue to believe that he is who he said he is, then you will come to some rather nasty conclusions about Truth.

But did you ever stop to ask yourself: is he really “Mr. Truth?” Does he even legitimately own that name? Because you see, if he was actually not Mr. Truth, then all of those ways he acted, all of those ways he treated you, all that information you gathered “Truth” were not actually legitimate expressions of Truth. And if he is not Mr. Truth—-but in fact a con man—then who shall we call him? What should his proper name be? Hmm?

Perhaps we should call him “Mr. Lie.”

I don’t believe that Mr. Truth has the character attributes that the above-mentioned hypothetical man does. I believe that Mr. Truth is a rather noble person. A good person. A kind, compassionate, loving person. Someone I can trust. Really trust. 

Now, I have challenge for you: Go back through this little blog post, and replace “Mr. Truth” with “God.”