I recently heard someone refer to themselves as a “cow puncher.” I understand what that means in terms of what they do, but I was curious as to how the ‘puncher’ part came to be. Literally? Figuratively? Some wonderings are ok to leave alone.
I took a tumble recently, a big one. There isn’t a muscle group that didn’t try (and succeed in) cushioning the blow. For the last few days every time I move (even just to take a deeper breath, a sigh) an involuntary groan rolls out of my mouth. It got me to wondering if there is a biological imperative, a genetic advantage, to humans making a noise when moving through pain. What would happen if we couldn’t or didn’t. Horses can’t burp and it can kill them. If I couldn’t moan, would it kill me? I’ve taken the opportunity to experiment with this hypothesis and have found that, so far, the ‘groaner’ function is winning, though I try mightily to stifle it.
I was reminded by the sheer number of people who I know and care about, that are struggling with some aspect of physical challenge, that our bodies are much more like the fragile butterfly wing, than the thick, scaly, tough skin of an alligator.
Mother Nature has a clever and often surprising way of messing with me. Teaching me my next lesson. On the farm, I am always greeted and enchanted by the early morning bird calls. Especially one. Her call is smooth and comforting. Ironically, I realized during our most recent mortality retreat that her name was spelled M-o-u-r-n-i-n-g (Not Morning) Dove. Mourning, in the morning? That messes with my imprint of mourning being associated with darkness and death. And here she is showing up at the beginning of the day, the end of the night. Perhaps doing exactly what my mourning, if well done, provides?
Someone asked me for my opinion about why the suicide rate of young people is so high. I said premature ejection from home is one and social media as another.
I think I have an older adult version of high school senioritis.
A recent clear pathology report unexpectedly brought tears to my eyes. A moment where ‘nothing’ meant everything. I was reminded recently that my being conscious of my mortality is as much a gift in the form of a reminder to live my life fully, as gravity is to my ability to move about.
There seems to be a “begging economy.” What I mean by that is, quite often as I get to know some people who are living very close to a mere subsistence level, it isn’t long before they are asking if they can ‘borrow’ some money. Both of us know exactly what that means. This will not be a ‘loan’ that will be repaid, it will be a ‘gift.’
For me, I am ok with that. I live in a state of comparative financial privilege. Asking me for a ‘loan’ is part of how they survive. I don’t get a sense that they feel ashamed for asking.
There is a sense of “You should be doing this without my asking.” I’m not sure they are wrong. Some religions suggest that is exactly what their followers should do. In some cultures, it is considered anti-social and threatening to the survival of the community to not be proactive in giving. Group members are expected to notice and without being asked, provide for those who have little. In those cultures, the first of the bounty goes to those who for one reason or another don’t have enough. Even if that means that the gifter goes without. In some traditional cultures the one who doesn’t give is sanctioned.
I was talking with a professional colleague about this ‘begging economy.’ She said that first of all there is something wrong with my doing what I do. I always ‘loan’ them money. In doing so, she suggested that wasn’t helping, I was enabling. A behavior that was equivalent to my giving alcohol to an alcoholic. Making ‘the problem’ worse.
After trashing my choice, she went on to share her considerable disgust, disdain, and contempt for ‘people who live their lives like that.’
Near the end of our conversation, she asked me for a discount to participate in one of my workshops, with a tone of "you owe me, (and people like me).”
I silently asked myself what the difference is between those that she so easily condemns and her own behavior. If I said yes, wouldn’t I be enabling her? Cognitive dissonance is what that is called, the gap between what I say I believe and what I actually do.
I was trying to create some images of a dreaming experience I had. I was encouraged to go to A.I. And I did. I was told, “all you have to do is……” and I did it. Based on the outcome, I am guessing that there was more to the ‘all’ that I didn’t know about.
This is not my first experience like this with the technological world.
I can’t tell you how many times I have been told something to the effect that “it is intuitive.” I must not have the ‘intuition.’ It feels exactly like handing me the keys to your airplane and telling me, just turn the key. If I have any sense at all, I get away from it as soon as possible. Especially if it involves apps and the internet, where if you click on the wrong button, I will be in financial servitude for the rest of my life.
I am still trying to figure out how to post something on Instagram despite being ‘shown’ how, numerous times for the past 10 years.
A friend confessed that ‘technology’ is a different language. That makes sense. I haven’t learned the language.
I engaged in a conversation with a friend, who commented that someone they saw had been “dressed to the nines.” I was curious about where that idiom came from. Scotland apparently, in the ‘1700’s. It seems as if “to the nine’s” is perfection. Why not 10’s? If someone is “Dressed to the 10’s, I have learned, they are overdressed. Does that make an “8” underdressed?” Help me with that logic. Sometimes I am struck by just how strange we human beings are. By the way, I think people would say about me, “Boy, he’s dressed to the five’s” when, in my mind, I am “dressed up.”
Speaking of logic and rational thinking, it is never a good thing to offer the ‘gift’ of logic to someone who is bereft with emotions. I remember saying to a friend, frequently, when they got emotional, “Calm down, you are talking like a lunatic.” Even though I was right, it didn’t help the relationship. Emotions and logic, two different languages that don’t mix well together. Trust me on that one. Religious and political discussions, especially. The vast majority of our behaviors are driven from our subconscious emotional (not logical) brains.
Imagine you on the back of an elephant (your emotional brain), she or he are making more than 90% of all your decisions, deliciously wrapped and obfuscated in a veil of logic, reasons, excuses, rationalizations, explanations. You, the rider, provide all those. The reality is you are just adding words to a decision the elephant has already made. Blissfully, for the most part, we are totally unaware of the process, and in fact would deny this is true. The elephant doesn’t care what we think.
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