tao1776

Okay. I admit it. I'm clinically depressed. I won't blame it all on the bio-chemical notion of things. Much of it is situational. But the guilt, the blame. I can't help but feel the loser. I can't provide. I cannot lead. I suck as a husband, father or friend. Marginally successful in some things and major suckville in others. I feel my depression and my inability to act like a weight on my soul. Yes, the big "S" word has entered my thoughts. Fucking dolt! I have a hard time being thankful and I can only focus on the negatives; which are too many to name. Perhaps this IS the beginning of wisdom because I give up. Like a few of you, I post as a way to reach out to others. To perhaps feel something good. To learn. To have fellowship. To inspire and to be inspired and to share. I cease because I am not. I have had some good friendships.

In its simplest form, Buddhism would state that our experience of struggle in this life is often based on our desire for things to be other than how they are and an equal aversion towards how things are. A Taoist story tells of an old man who accidentally fell into the river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall. Onlookers feared for his life. Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls. People asked him how he managed to survive. "I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me. Without thinking, I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging into the swirl, I came out with the swirl. This is how I survived." We talk to ourselves incessantly about our world. In fact we maintain our world with our internal talk. And whenever we finish talking to ourselves about ourselves and our world, the world is always as it should be. We renew it, we rekindle it with life, we uphold it with our internal talk. Not only that, but we

We all have had those friends that leave us feeling refreshed for having spent our time with them. At times, it would appear that all others are but"psychic vampires" sucking our necks in an attempt to turn us into one of them. I have discovered that there are less and less of these refreshing relationships to be found; and I know that it has to start with me. But it is unlikely that you will be reading about anything too uplifting, inspiring or refreshing here. This makes it very difficult to comment on this blog. Although I do get many readers per week, I find it difficult to know why anyone would want to return. Morbid curiosity? A closer look at what it is to hear from a curmudgeon? There are things to which I could report, "Bravo," but I am too disgusted and depressed to address those things. I am amazed at our communal effort to keep our heads buried in the sands of distraction when there is much injustice happening right before our eyes. But again, I am often

He gave it as much thought as those who would give thought to the temperature of the major cities of the world. But as in the case of those that do think about the temperature of the major cities of the world, there are some that do; and do so often. But the average person seldom thinks about the temperature of London, Tokyo or Moscow. But there are those among us that think thoughts that are only known to most of us as passing thoughts. Sometimes these thoughts will take root, as the seed of a tree or that of a weed will lodge in a stone wall or a un-mowed grassy embankment. He left his beloved possessions, his wallet; not even bothering to turn off the t.v. or locking his doors and walked to the woods behind the cemetery and the city reservoir. He did take with him a tent and a cell phone; a phone he briefly answered on that fateful July 4Th morning. On July 5Th, his friends called about and gathered at the community club to organize a search. By the day of the 7Th, it was better org

He sat in the corner facing the double doors that opened and closed allowing the throng of tourists to come and go. I sat at the opposite end watching him nervously eye those that swung through the doors. The fingers of his right hand drummed their way across his thumb and his left leg bobbed anxiously. Pretty girls and fat women peppered the crowd of French Canadian men that wore thongs not meant to be seen in public. The radio played those forgotten tunes of yesteryear and I longed for a cold beer. Two girls walked through the door and I couldn't help but focus my attention on them. Mid twenties, pretty in that natural sort of way. Their carefree banter brought a smile to my face. "Eva!" The man who earlier captured my attention quickly crossed the floor grabbing the taller girl by the arm. Her look was that of fear and she resisted his grasp. She looked about seeking intervention while they argued in French. Perhaps this was her ex-lover, her boyfriend; may

Words and music by John Kay, Jerry Edmonton,Nick St. Nicholas and Larry Byrom (Monster) Once the religious, the hunted and weary Chasing the promise of freedom and hope Came to this country to build a new vision Far from the reaches of kingdom and pope Like good Christians, some would burn the witches Later some got slaves to gather riches But still from near and far to seek America They came by thousands to court the wild And she just patiently smiled and bore a child To be their spirit and guiding light And once the ties with the crown had been broken Westward in saddle and wagon it went And 'til the railroad linked ocean to ocean Many the lives which had come to an end While we bullied, stole and bought our a homeland We began the slaughter of the red man But still from near and far to seek America They came by thousands to court the wild And she just patiently smiled and bore a child To be their spirit and guiding light The blue and grey they stomped it They kicked it just