tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-184888622024-03-13T06:50:56.496-04:00NJOYLIFRobservations from the roadRobloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-19195659917945765272013-07-26T16:14:00.000-04:002013-07-26T16:14:40.501-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD</div>
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a robservation</div>
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"Spare the rod and spoil the child" was a truism when I was growing up. However, it took several levels of escalating punishment to get the rod out. </div>
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Level 1. - ISOLATION AND HUMILIATION FROM MOM AND SIS</div>
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In my house the first punishment for being caught in some deviant behavior or stupid act (“what were you thinking?!”) was to be ordered to “go sit in the corner and think about what you've done.” This was intended to both let me cool off and to embarrass me in front of my little sister who would prance around my chair and Na, Na, Na’d me like only a bratty sister who eats bugs can. (Actually, I was the one who forced her to eat bugs)</div>
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After an arbitrary period had gone by (usually about an hour) my humiliation was compounded by a stern lecture from Mom with plenty of in my face finger wagging. Back in the 60’s it was fashionable for women to grow and sharpen their blood red enameled nails into little daggers that could put your eye out faster than a Red Rider repeating BB gun. The implied threat of gouging my eyes out kept me humble... for a bit.</div>
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This level 1 isolation and verbal rousing did absolutely no good if I was determined continue with whatever sin I had committed and promised never to do again while under the duress of setting on a hard chair, facing into the corner of my room enduring the slings and barbs from my sister.</div>
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Level 2. - THE LECTURE FROM DAD</div>
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A notch up the punishment ladder was the threat of Mom telling Dad (“don’t make me tell your father about this”) and suffer his longer lectures preached through a well practiced Clint Eastwood make my day face. During the insufferable lectures time seemed to slow down to glacial time. I felt myself growing old standing there by his lazy Boy recliner taking my verbal licks.</div>
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During the harangue he would slowly flaunt his belt buckle hidden under a big flab of belly like a dirty undercover cop seductively reveals his sweaty belt badge to a perp in a bar just before the fight breaks out. </div>
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The implication of a whippin’ normally shut me right up, but not Dad. Yack, yack, yack. Lecture, lecture. lecture. Doesn’t he know you can’t use reason and logic on a kid. You can’t stop a river with rhetoric. I would usually beg him to just hit me and quit lecturing me. This would be called mental torture today. That is what I called it back then too!</div>
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Level 3 - THE YARDSTICK</div>
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If my comportment continued to deteriorate, the next level up was Mom spanking my butt with a wooden yardstick. These whacks smarted but were not that lasting. If I was not firmly committed to whichever cause I had “vowed to die for” I would move on to something else after a dozen good thwacks upon my buttocks by 36” of flexible wood. Well, not that flexible, my fat butt and Mom’s sometimes very enthusiastic strokes broke several yardsticks over the years.</div>
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Level 4 - THE KITCHEN SPOON </div>
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Luckily, level 4 corporal punishment occurred rarely. In a desperate effort by my parents into fooling themselves to believing they were still in charge came in the form of a spanking by Mom with the big wooden kitchen spoon (ironically the very same spoon we got to lick chocolate cake frosting from when we were good). </div>
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There is an allegory here can you guess what it is? Did we somehow learn to be both butt kissers and rebels by the subliminal symbology of licking a dark brown substance from the same spoon that would also blister my butt?. </div>
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These spoon spankings almost always took the wind out of my obstination. Just enough real pain, suffering and humiliation to get my full attention and kick my butt-brain into a rational gear. I would think to myself, “Bobby (I was called Bobby back then) you really, really need to question if this compulsion to do whatever it was that got me in this much trouble this time was worth pursuing any longer.” 99% of the time I quit pursuing it.</div>
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Level 5 - THE BELT</div>
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I can only barely remember being on the bad end of my father’s belt once. I don’t even remember what I did. But, the crime had to be so heinous as to suffer the cliche’ of my dad saying, “this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you”, while popping the belt to let me know it was actually going to hurt me far worse. The lashing usually only lasted a few hard licks while I bellowed and cried (for emotional effect ;) It hurt like Hell and was reminded of the ordeal every time I sat down for the next few days. After a belt lashing I would “straighten up and fly right”..... for awhile.</div>
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I never considered spankings unusual or cruel punishment by sadistic parents. It was just the accepted way of trying to keep your kids from growing up to be rapists or serial killers. Or to save us from walking through unfriendly neighborhoods patrolled by vigilante’s with guns. Spoiling the child by sparing the rod was un-American. You might as well let commies stay overnight in your house if it be found out you spared the rod and spoiled you child. </div>
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Today you can only instill an equivalent degree of mental pain and depredation by suspending web and data privileges and take away their smartphone and/or tablet for a week. The only comparative punishment back then would be to take away my biking privileges and grounding me for a week. No telephone, comic books or TV. All I could do was read books with no pictures and play war with my little plastic army men. No streaming video or World of Warcraft to calm me down back then. </div>
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When I wasn’t being grounded or beaten would usually watch Bugs Bunny and Road Runner to satiate my bloodlust. If that wasn’t enough, Brent Faulkner and I would build model boats and planes then fill them with modeling cement and firecrackers then blow them up and burn them in mock battles. When we were caught doing this the punishment cycle would start all over again.</div>
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-a Robservation</div>
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Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-74114152933012132932013-01-02T15:14:00.003-05:002013-01-02T15:14:47.515-05:00How To Save Your Facebook Activity Log<span style="font-size: large;">New Tutorial</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I am brand new at producing screen recorded tutorials. So go gentle on me but do leave some constructive criticism. I already know I look like a frozen dork on camera. I promise to be looser in the future.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6gZzK9yVWUw" width="480"></iframe>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-30555255848748785982012-06-27T09:58:00.001-04:002012-06-27T09:58:22.310-04:00Photos: Waldo Canyon Fire near Garden of the Gods | Denver Post Photos, Video<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFttTFmCugF1ZH8npwpwdsNe4COAOvjeAnILkzHUMXc8w5KVl1w7CLgYOq8fi7UrfnWELD2h-tI8vaq3MmYqxhJO7ChPIgaBRdCF5tt2XBKsDPkLBuWWQr9WNi4mjC95bb2Blc/s1600/p+(2).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFttTFmCugF1ZH8npwpwdsNe4COAOvjeAnILkzHUMXc8w5KVl1w7CLgYOq8fi7UrfnWELD2h-tI8vaq3MmYqxhJO7ChPIgaBRdCF5tt2XBKsDPkLBuWWQr9WNi4mjC95bb2Blc/s320/p+(2).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eNU08_zh7lspadlwpZNHZYWI6UAaEB9VlTRKIiX8KTCawuh0hkKQ21VGjSjZBFlklFeyJVd5yeS-wX3VY36nnDU86O2_RdnUlT19Duybt-IPR9rsoCnvTBFcZYQE3KqNqhXV/s1600/p+(6).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eNU08_zh7lspadlwpZNHZYWI6UAaEB9VlTRKIiX8KTCawuh0hkKQ21VGjSjZBFlklFeyJVd5yeS-wX3VY36nnDU86O2_RdnUlT19Duybt-IPR9rsoCnvTBFcZYQE3KqNqhXV/s320/p+(6).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BwIc2gTlMtJjqS6DxcVK7aF23-P81JP1WcUVNp6YwQ6wkXnSAMf0avDVQaltzGx_dEHzpn-b2ZduUZLPIkuJf8fl9z1iWg41mOARx_tiWcZyEkFS6ZtDylnioY30cjcmRGj1/s1600/p+(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BwIc2gTlMtJjqS6DxcVK7aF23-P81JP1WcUVNp6YwQ6wkXnSAMf0avDVQaltzGx_dEHzpn-b2ZduUZLPIkuJf8fl9z1iWg41mOARx_tiWcZyEkFS6ZtDylnioY30cjcmRGj1/s320/p+(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I finally found who shot these incredibly disturbing photos that have been pasted all over the national news today. Sometimes being a photojournalist is hard. To watch what is really happening in your viewfinder.<br />
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As you go through these shots you will see a sequence of the same houses before and during the inferno. I wonder if it is better to have a tornado slam my house to pieces in seconds or watch in agony as the slow march of a fire inevitably eats my house. It is like deciding whether to be shot or die of cancer. Please shoot me.Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0Colorado Springs, CO, USA38.8338816 -104.821363438.6359796 -105.13722039999999 39.0317836 -104.5055064tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-37593566584396573552012-02-17T09:15:00.000-05:002012-02-17T09:15:10.305-05:00Order out of Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7lQ7j4x3JQsPhpgI7vxsIJaSkuxcnXuIzeKk_8CZNlHmqIuzUNfSWgaQyWnifg5Bdt6PMVJrjGyE9NO9TX1ecIqwEB9_jhRDOCf_hAOuZ_3T7mN-23qxfXo-dV7b4BRMgQRx/s1600/chaos.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7lQ7j4x3JQsPhpgI7vxsIJaSkuxcnXuIzeKk_8CZNlHmqIuzUNfSWgaQyWnifg5Bdt6PMVJrjGyE9NO9TX1ecIqwEB9_jhRDOCf_hAOuZ_3T7mN-23qxfXo-dV7b4BRMgQRx/s320/chaos.gif" width="320" /></a></div>If you enjoy trying to bring order out of chaos you will always have something joyful to do... So why does it seem so exasperating? Exactly!Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-78570915949980237162012-01-28T09:20:00.000-05:002012-01-28T09:20:28.566-05:00Is it Food?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLD3n_qwdYO8gQxeiddWnr7B_VbDAU8_Jh07KwOkr2LXXco5L1wQPsYDJtz3jRBupP0NyHcKM5d_Ol1k8EFcZEVUpv97B_JUVnzrTwQR9mutcJQxC9rvBUavVEHeSnZLupmXR/s1600/iPad+3+assembly-slaves.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLD3n_qwdYO8gQxeiddWnr7B_VbDAU8_Jh07KwOkr2LXXco5L1wQPsYDJtz3jRBupP0NyHcKM5d_Ol1k8EFcZEVUpv97B_JUVnzrTwQR9mutcJQxC9rvBUavVEHeSnZLupmXR/s640/iPad+3+assembly-slaves.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Recent articles about how and where iPads, iPhones and a majority of other computer components are made and the working conditions gave me a creepy reminder of another shiny apple in human history.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">New York Times</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?_r=1" target="_blank">http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?_r=1</a><br />
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The Daily Beast<br />
<a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/01/27/investigations-reveal-long-trail-of-abuses-at-apple-suppliers.html">http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/01/27/investigations-reveal-long-trail-of-abuses-at-apple-suppliers.html</a></div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-51056254588039717332012-01-18T10:46:00.000-05:002012-01-18T10:46:12.804-05:00Oops, Wrong Hat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYRoeyKt271T3VqwKewcXtSN4NYHeGNuLV6yf5cgbi4yq7xbk93Ao6AD8JH6n62cllaz5c9ps8hLyaTilR-FbjccE3KRj9Ia4BIm2dEQ45SgXmSuTnB_IN1UZcPRaZ64aimJ4J/s1600/bullwinkle_magic-hat-743689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYRoeyKt271T3VqwKewcXtSN4NYHeGNuLV6yf5cgbi4yq7xbk93Ao6AD8JH6n62cllaz5c9ps8hLyaTilR-FbjccE3KRj9Ia4BIm2dEQ45SgXmSuTnB_IN1UZcPRaZ64aimJ4J/s1600/bullwinkle_magic-hat-743689.jpg" /></a></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>8</o:Words> <o:Characters>46</o:Characters> <o:Company>STREAMLINE STUDIO</o:Company> <o:Lines>1</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>53</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>14.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Bullwinkle: Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.<br />
Rocky: Again?<br />
Bullwinkle: Presto!<br />
Lion: ROAR!!!<br />
Bullwinkle: Oops, wrong hat.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Why Is This One Of The Most Profound Analogies Ever?</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">As you know my lot in life is to observe and comment on life’s absurdities. Mostly I find them simply humorous. But sometimes they are so profound in their simplicity or obviousness that they are deeply sobering.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As a child I simply laughed at Rocky & Bullwinkle. Now as an inquiring adult I find some of the humor and insight of Jay Ward to be on par with the parables of the Bible. Before you think of me a heretic, let me draw an analogy to explain myself.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">God (Jesus) used stories and verbal illustrations to teach the principles of life to us because He knew that the lessons learned best are the ones we “get” for ourselves. God knows that to spoon-feed us knowledge is as wasted as trying to get an infant to eat strained peas. The best way to get us to eat what is good for us is to make it taste like honey.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jay Ward used Rocky & Bullwinkle as honey to make the peas of life taste better. That is the only comparison I am making between God and Bullwinkle. See how it all tastes better now? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Back to the most profound analogy of Bullwinkle trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat only to pull out a lion and exclaim, “Oops, wrong hat”. Do you get it? If so, what do you get? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I won’t try to spoon-feed you the universal truth I finally gleaned out of this innocuous cartoon. Jesus knew that the best way to answer a question was with another question. But He didn’t leave anyone hanging without a clue either. Most of the time Jesus answered a question by referring to a question or answer His Father revealed to His ancestors of the Old Testament. Jesus left it up to the questioner to go back and dig up the answer for themselves then come back and share what they personally learned with the group. Since I am not Jesus I won’t try to refer you to any passage of relevance (to me) in God’s Word. He will guide you to your own. That is the beauty of the Bible, it is like a multifaceted jewel that when turned into the light refracts a different color to each person turning it. But, the colors are all still part of the same spectrum of light/truth.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Please let me know what you get out of this life analogy (if anything) and share it with the rest of us. I got it one way, you may get it another. But the truth of the analogy is so simply universal I bet we all get a version of the same lesson in our own individual color.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By sharing what we get we educate each other by provoking reveal-ation and discussion of the same. I can’t wait to share with you the profound lesson I learned when I stuck my hand into this hat.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">NJOYLIF, Rob<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-78978054878506964942012-01-14T10:25:00.003-05:002012-01-14T10:34:05.125-05:00Fatty News - Junk In, Junk Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTZH49SaP9igp52WCwE818bL2-Rp20SPsj46RZSyL27Sa9TGmKwDs3sgtESN-UcrXUTqF8AxoOzglX0JwlgEihQC51lPyTFuQCqJXAXrSGdUz3kQt2cs9ROGoyDAnQ_5m9trE/s1600/iChoose-fat-1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTZH49SaP9igp52WCwE818bL2-Rp20SPsj46RZSyL27Sa9TGmKwDs3sgtESN-UcrXUTqF8AxoOzglX0JwlgEihQC51lPyTFuQCqJXAXrSGdUz3kQt2cs9ROGoyDAnQ_5m9trE/s400/iChoose-fat-1024.jpg" width="400" /></a>Fatty News - Junk in Junk Out</div><br />
<h1 style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size: 1.4em; line-height: 1.2em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-transform: capitalize;">The Information Diet</h1><h2 style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.2em; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-transform: capitalize;">A Case For Conscious Consumption</h2><div class="author" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.3em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">by <a href="http://www.npr.org/books/authors/145103503/clay-a-johnson" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #2952a3; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">Clay A. Johnson</span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="p1">"Our bodies are wired to love salt, fat and sugar. ... Our minds are really wired to be affirmed and be told that we're right. ... Who wants to hear the truth when they can hear that they're right? </div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p1">Who wants to be informed when they can be affirmed? What we do is we tell our media that that's what we want to hear, and our media responds to that by telling us what it is that we want, and sometimes that isn't what's best for us."</div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p1">...Just as food companies learned that if they want to sell a lot of cheap calories, they should pack them with salt, fat, and sugar — the stuff that people crave — media companies learned that affirmation sells a lot better than information. Who wants to hear the truth when they can hear that they're right!</div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p1">...You cannot simply flood the market with broccoli and hope that people stop eating french fries.</div><div class="p1"><br />
</div><div class="p1">http://www.npr.org/books/titles/145103496/the-information-diet-a-case-for-conscious-consumption#excerpt</div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-42801741068767857982011-05-30T18:44:00.000-04:002011-05-30T18:44:43.183-04:00When is a Boulder Not an Obstacle?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLHO4ox_e_HyM9M3JiKYiMc0Sj_1QdTmKIvfXV5OWUOrz__I656dlZSZIJL5b2TO_bm9ZY6QBudrH77YPPCpPTq2Bb5d8Fj7B_6PUVp-LtgLmmKXb_uVlmbVKgx1-pBd_yyJO/s1600/Destiny-path-boulder-800px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLHO4ox_e_HyM9M3JiKYiMc0Sj_1QdTmKIvfXV5OWUOrz__I656dlZSZIJL5b2TO_bm9ZY6QBudrH77YPPCpPTq2Bb5d8Fj7B_6PUVp-LtgLmmKXb_uVlmbVKgx1-pBd_yyJO/s1600/Destiny-path-boulder-800px.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When is a boulder not a boulder? When it is the destination. In fact, it is my new destination, Boulder, CO! Yes my rest period is over here in SC. Summer is here and I am moving on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Why Bouder, CO? Would you believe I am taking the word of a friend who lives there. Sharon ( and her boyfriend Pete) tell me it is a great city. Very laid back with some hippie thrown in. A well educated liberal populace that prides itself on being called the happiest city in America. She said they have some great non-denom churches. How could I pass that up!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have never been to Boulder, nor have I spent any time in the West and the Rockies. Well, once I flew into Denver to go skiing in Breckenridge but that was 25 years ago. I left B'ham to find a new part of the country and a new place to call home. I spent a couple of months last fall travelling the East Coast on my NJOYLIF spiritual quest. I also explored a lot of NC because I originally thought I would want to live in Asheville or somewhere in the Smokey Mts. Now I am about to journey 1,500 miles to pitch my tent at the foot of the Rocky Mts. It is ironic that all the cities and parts of the East and Southeast I visited didn't feel right, but I am moving, lock, stock and barrel to a place that only sounds right.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think this is a God thang. He does stuff like this for me from time to time to keep me on my toes trying to keep up with Him. Why else would I have this urge to go West with only one friend, no job lined up and no real place to live. sharon and Pete are being very generous by letting pitch a pup tent in their basement until I get settled.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am leaving this Wed. June, 1. Everything I own will be going with me in a 5'x8' U-haul and what I can pack in my Odyssey. I am quite pleased with myself that I have been able to shed my material possessions down to just stuff I need.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took the picture above on my NJOYLIF tour. The boulder is on the beach in Lubec, Maine. Lubec was my starting point. So it is fitting that I use a picture from then for now. I first posted this picture with a caption about finding the boulders in your life and figurng out how to move around them. Now I am seeing that my avoidance of the boulder was the wrong choice. My destiny is to face the boulder and embrace it. Or, at least learn how to ski this winter, then move on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I hope to post on my trip out there and journal my first impressions of the city and the people I meet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><br />
<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br />
</span></div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-64375619603629258962010-12-15T21:01:00.000-05:002010-12-15T21:01:44.003-05:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOI4_cGoxO0JcAticWSHn6SjzXDLe0qT_jWspQxdPy5jBiT65bRgYpYSO5ew0UKgDOZUkxVicyzCTb0nw_e4iNqHr69AXF9GEGpeCENzzd9LD6FnxJTVY-gNNh-KuU3OuLOrUJ/s1600/Trust+me+1024px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOI4_cGoxO0JcAticWSHn6SjzXDLe0qT_jWspQxdPy5jBiT65bRgYpYSO5ew0UKgDOZUkxVicyzCTb0nw_e4iNqHr69AXF9GEGpeCENzzd9LD6FnxJTVY-gNNh-KuU3OuLOrUJ/s400/Trust+me+1024px.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">So, who do you trust?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>When standing at the precipice of life/death, who do you trust?Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-76626527507098091652010-12-01T06:22:00.000-05:002010-12-01T06:22:32.805-05:00We Believe What We Want to Believe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbs0lqmW19W9R9QLkl7BfASAPl_EfeB_mX4r_0TJTN6KcFuZDLxa4R6bjP4euhyphenhyphenHzAO123DHHNZw5hvBoNMU416e1Kx0Bd4wFxPmMbZdFjoDr_dSUTiqwpWolk2IjHoh9-6Wd/s1600/FB-snip-6x8-1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbs0lqmW19W9R9QLkl7BfASAPl_EfeB_mX4r_0TJTN6KcFuZDLxa4R6bjP4euhyphenhyphenHzAO123DHHNZw5hvBoNMU416e1Kx0Bd4wFxPmMbZdFjoDr_dSUTiqwpWolk2IjHoh9-6Wd/s640/FB-snip-6x8-1024.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Who really knows fact from fiction? We believe what we want to believe even if it is not to trust anything you hear or read.</div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-76057272130790136532010-11-25T07:38:00.001-05:002010-11-25T07:48:05.688-05:00Do Trees Cry in the Fall?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrDLbd_5zU4o_v2PPZA1bi6RHZOGhces6vMFpOdpoEy-ZmxertSGKV9jGEzgxCAhRgwdS85zHqkevmyfIDXX6pNHM3-6H9CZYX8Pm5SLznagMVwW1z6wDvnCHaz5Z0WbFEkI6/s1600/Leaves-Drop-Tears-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrDLbd_5zU4o_v2PPZA1bi6RHZOGhces6vMFpOdpoEy-ZmxertSGKV9jGEzgxCAhRgwdS85zHqkevmyfIDXX6pNHM3-6H9CZYX8Pm5SLznagMVwW1z6wDvnCHaz5Z0WbFEkI6/s640/Leaves-Drop-Tears-800.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For all my tree hugger friends here is my thoughts on Fall.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A couple of days ago I was sipping coffee out on my deck just before dawn. I heard the sound of raindrops lightly striking the dry leaves on the ground ( I haven't raked the yard yet).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was odd because it was not sprinkling on me. The sound was just coming from over by the huge maple tree. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I pondered this atmospheric anomaly for a minute then I realized it was not raindrops tapping the ground, but the leaves falling off the tree were making the noise.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was kind of sad. The tree was slowly releasing it leaves like it knew it had to let go, but wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The next day it rained, and rained. Most of the leaves were blown off, but the next morning those that were left were still very wet and dripping. The sound was almost exactly the same as the dry leaves dropping the previous day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I got my camera out to get a few shots of early morning sun making the leaves glow. All the little bare limbs and the remaining leaves had water drops glistening on their tips. It reminded of tears. The tree seemed sad, but knew it had to let go of the past in order to look forward to Spring when it would be happy again with all new leaves to nourish and be nourished by.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The same is true for us. Sometimes we have to let go of something or someone in order to have room in our hearts for someone new or to simply renew our souls be releasing something or someone who has been preventing us from moving forward.</span>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-10131436001323237342010-11-25T05:51:00.000-05:002010-11-25T05:51:07.058-05:00This Dolphin Should Go Green<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHc0VDspfEhq5-Nht8z0Rqb1LKuvCC0uSajThWW1IheaG45NTADT9-cMRSmFhCPeJdQOMNwtvVtjTRVjuRFuAQZ0f2KV7Sa3NhyX8bb_jwzwTECLwYCTvJKfAw-mQ9ay_JS3f/s1600/dolphin+with+plastic+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHc0VDspfEhq5-Nht8z0Rqb1LKuvCC0uSajThWW1IheaG45NTADT9-cMRSmFhCPeJdQOMNwtvVtjTRVjuRFuAQZ0f2KV7Sa3NhyX8bb_jwzwTECLwYCTvJKfAw-mQ9ay_JS3f/s640/dolphin+with+plastic+bag.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The archipelago of Fernando de Noronha, Brazil is considered a wildlife sanctuary, but today, even in this isolated archipelago dolphins are victims of the bad habits of consumption. (Photo and caption by João Vianna) <a href="http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/11/national_geographics_photograp.html?ref=nf#photo11\2" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">#</span></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I borrowed this photo from the 2010 National Geographic amateur photo contest. It is truly a statement on the condition of our oceans. But, of Course in my slightly skewed perception of reality my first reaction was, " This dolphin should know to bring its own re-usable grocery bag with him to the store."</span><br />
<a href="http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/11/national_geographics_photograp.html?ref=nf">http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/11/national_geographics_photograp.html?ref=nf</a>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-15034339490538040142010-11-10T09:07:00.000-05:002010-11-10T09:07:07.478-05:00Drive By Shooting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVf2POMeKGuWp1I0okOxXhAcGrsRtHYObLHyr5jsqRlxOJquX7XsL84h-Ppg9YVhdroFQJ87br1wnJCBQmK-IV_UdPfB-OrAMi9ZN0wDt45h66FqD9o-08b9RlPMLCATfTG02l/s1600/Heron-on-bridge-1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVf2POMeKGuWp1I0okOxXhAcGrsRtHYObLHyr5jsqRlxOJquX7XsL84h-Ppg9YVhdroFQJ87br1wnJCBQmK-IV_UdPfB-OrAMi9ZN0wDt45h66FqD9o-08b9RlPMLCATfTG02l/s640/Heron-on-bridge-1024.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Yesterday I checked out Pawley's Island, SC on my way to Charleston. On my way out I saw this Heron sitting on the bridge rail. I had my camera sitting on the seat beside me so I snapped this picture as I drove by. Who says you have to slog through miles of wilderness to do wildlife photography when you can do some drive by shooting form the comfort of your car!Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-76855881282845369402010-11-08T23:37:00.000-05:002010-11-08T23:37:49.722-05:00I Believe in Fairies<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IoFquUG5jFVcD0Ak4r_wQwxghIyYjdXiAomcbqDzrCv_UY_9Z-U34Qu_HIDeDwHjtX923m6YdWnbtQWhK-bpww-ERgdE6qn7aojfF4gD8kLeCQk-AoZym49_YKOFVxnHrZhF/s1600/Ferry-Odyssey-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IoFquUG5jFVcD0Ak4r_wQwxghIyYjdXiAomcbqDzrCv_UY_9Z-U34Qu_HIDeDwHjtX923m6YdWnbtQWhK-bpww-ERgdE6qn7aojfF4gD8kLeCQk-AoZym49_YKOFVxnHrZhF/s640/Ferry-Odyssey-800.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magical Ferry Help</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjh-X80xJKShYrZTAIMBfiPTzihdB3kE_VMLe-Xvs-CYUN3TMbN6-SKCW60HRLRd29wGygFdh_vho5nDa6lE4J8M_IX_GKwnz341ptzUXnOCiJYWAkOQtbIkvn_MQfYgn6XoE8/s1600/Joe--Ferry-ticketmaster-1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjh-X80xJKShYrZTAIMBfiPTzihdB3kE_VMLe-Xvs-CYUN3TMbN6-SKCW60HRLRd29wGygFdh_vho5nDa6lE4J8M_IX_GKwnz341ptzUXnOCiJYWAkOQtbIkvn_MQfYgn6XoE8/s400/Joe--Ferry-ticketmaster-1024.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe, the Ferry Master</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDJjfp-9pH0lAhHklBMzPTJ2RgJdxvYrnzso70XgkP97tzurTnmP1lI31WKXZrgRVZDZlpcoykFgPzPhqnxfOuj3BwyovYsdo_jiF5q8I3_Q-iacsfdNFoneXfKqitwOxWESr/s1600/NJOYLIF-on-ferry-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDJjfp-9pH0lAhHklBMzPTJ2RgJdxvYrnzso70XgkP97tzurTnmP1lI31WKXZrgRVZDZlpcoykFgPzPhqnxfOuj3BwyovYsdo_jiF5q8I3_Q-iacsfdNFoneXfKqitwOxWESr/s400/NJOYLIF-on-ferry-800.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NJOYLIF likes Ferry Help</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-Y6S2RtkKiNNPKExrlHdhR0D8_Wb7NcWASJPVe-GPV-gOaVtVtUJrfS9g7nGzheynKMneIbbYLspzlDeiXT3XS6VlSKB-ryFYGi9ux98AzaVFBSaOruaPEaJD0B8cSSo8S7S/s1600/Rob-on-Ferry-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-Y6S2RtkKiNNPKExrlHdhR0D8_Wb7NcWASJPVe-GPV-gOaVtVtUJrfS9g7nGzheynKMneIbbYLspzlDeiXT3XS6VlSKB-ryFYGi9ux98AzaVFBSaOruaPEaJD0B8cSSo8S7S/s400/Rob-on-Ferry-800.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob is NOT getting seasick</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Odyssey (Honda and mystical) manages to continue with the help of a Fairy (ferry). Odd-I-see how it is magical that you can come to the end of the road but can continue on if an un-foreseen helper is there to take you across the gulf you cannot cross yourself so you can continue on your journey.<br />
<br />
I laugh at how so many words have double meanings or synonyms, antonyms or homonyms that provide insightful revelations to life's paradoxes. Wow, I am not even sure if I used these complex words correctly.<br />
<br />
I just find it fun and funny to see how the same word can have opposite meanings (like vain) , or similar sounding words can reveal the nuances of perception.Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-90659765357539845682010-11-06T18:05:00.003-04:002010-11-06T23:39:52.488-04:00Questioning My Apierance (sic)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUVx6fmFbOwfV7G21LmF3unf5DwBJ4vy_ErS0d0DP9lkbbBfYnaL7wuJ686UhTwpP6x5E-rnf8thBcJ3aCsEtv4dXoF2R_3B1nxWLYlB1R-ObnD8lYywFZOAL1U6aR5vyU2nT/s1600/How-much-longer-1024px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUVx6fmFbOwfV7G21LmF3unf5DwBJ4vy_ErS0d0DP9lkbbBfYnaL7wuJ686UhTwpP6x5E-rnf8thBcJ3aCsEtv4dXoF2R_3B1nxWLYlB1R-ObnD8lYywFZOAL1U6aR5vyU2nT/s640/How-much-longer-1024px.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How Much Longer Can Your Apierance Stand the Waves and Storms of Reality?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Sorry for the bad pun. I had to think about this photo for awhile to figure out why it moved me.<br />
<br />
I kept looking at the wobbly pier that has probably been their longer than I have been alive, yet looks like it is about to fall down. Then I thought about my appearance, my facade, my face I try to put on to others, and to myself.<br />
<br />
I think my pier stands on worn wobbly legs yet I have managed to maintain it my whole life. It seems ready to fall down at any time, with even the slightest storm to topple it. Yet I manage to keep it from crashing into the sea of reality.<br />
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An honest contemplation of my pier makes me wonder if its worn pilings are as apparent to others as it is to myself?<br />
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I secretly hope a hurricane will blow it away. I also secretly try to keep it standing and looking strong to others.<br />
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I think I would prefer not to try and maintain an apierence. It seems to take more time and energy than just letting it all hang out. I believe at least a few people would still like me..Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-25633150730058013822010-11-05T09:41:00.000-04:002010-11-05T09:41:54.924-04:00Uncertain Path Pays Off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiqKj1WJYVnpiZGQjt_D7U80t5CC5TxlubyhgMVuqta6SaiPILpXVHHEagh4qAqTDFz4nmrX6oliKh6GH4PMCR8LIl06NgnDDErouO7nrvtbSSjvGERFr_aUNvROOvU7Qo7Nm/s1600/Morning-view-OPT-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiqKj1WJYVnpiZGQjt_D7U80t5CC5TxlubyhgMVuqta6SaiPILpXVHHEagh4qAqTDFz4nmrX6oliKh6GH4PMCR8LIl06NgnDDErouO7nrvtbSSjvGERFr_aUNvROOvU7Qo7Nm/s640/Morning-view-OPT-800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Last night I was wondering what my morning scene would be. I was hopefully anticipating a really nice view of the ocean. Well my dark path turned into a really nice one. It was worth looking forward to!Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-5741941231777459152010-11-05T01:30:00.000-04:002010-11-05T01:30:22.707-04:00Should've, Shouldn't, Should, Past, Present and Future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxMqScdO_c3_ieMaBXoDd9vSZraO8Q8moR4wzZHKFRavy8H98YLyamxtXXdQb-D1FjtWKnIaMvEx9nDhbio9BnACZSi5crdtycpUcNxiC2JHcH8AZ_x1-LMy3KTpjghc_cTAg/s1600/Look-forward-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxMqScdO_c3_ieMaBXoDd9vSZraO8Q8moR4wzZHKFRavy8H98YLyamxtXXdQb-D1FjtWKnIaMvEx9nDhbio9BnACZSi5crdtycpUcNxiC2JHcH8AZ_x1-LMy3KTpjghc_cTAg/s640/Look-forward-800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Some people say you should not live in the past or predict the future but live only in the present. I mostly agree with this theory but find it hard to put into practice. I tend to look at the past and say that I should've done this or shouldn't have done that. This taints my view of the present which negatively tints my vision of the future.<br />
<br />
I use my views of my past then say that from now on I should do this or that to make my future better than my past.<br />
I also say I shouldn't do this now to make my future better.<br />
Either way, the two words are projecting a future action (even if the future is just a second from now, like saying no to a negative temptation that I want to do right now in the present). Pretty confusing, right?<br />
<br />
Tonight I landed at Kitty Hawk (pun intended) on the next stop of my NJOYLIF quest. It was after dark when I found a motel right to the beach. I only assumed my room was right on the beach because the sea oats were just outside my room and I could hear the whursh of the surf not very far away. However, I could not see it, I could only hear it. I had not seen any colorful brochures of my motel room's beach view since I just picked it based on a list of motels my GPS told me were in Kitty Hawk on Ocean Shore Avenue.<br />
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My point is that I don't have any guarantees that when I wake up tomorrow morning I will be greeted by the fulfillment of the mental image of what I think the beach will look like (assuming it is even as close as I think it is). This does not stop me of eagerly anticipating waking up tomorrow morning and enjoying a freshly brewed cup-o-joe on my deck with the ocean just a few sandy steps away.<br />
<br />
Tonight I could not help but walk out on the trail between the sea oats to see if I could actually see the ocean. It was just too dark to tell. This is what this dark grainy picture is. Me and my shadow standing on the path I will follow tomorrow morning to see if my anticipation proves to be what I hope it will be.<br />
<br />
However, right now, I just don't know. It is dark, and my path is uncertain but I am looking forward to tomorrow.<br />
<br />
This is different than where my mind was last week when when my path was dark and uncertain but I was not looking forward to the next day because I was too caught up in what I should or shouldn't have done in the past.<br />
<br />
I don't think we can escape from thinking about the future, but we can stop thinking about the past, or at least decide not to let it taint our present, which tints our future. Maybe I can use the mental image of me standing on this sandy path at night lured by the sound of the sea to help me look forward to the next day even when my present is dark and uncertain. God's call from the waves whurshing up on the beach beckons me to look forward to tomorrow. <br />
<br />
I sure hope that whurshing sound is God and the beautiful sea and not the gushing of a very huge sewer pipe! The key word here is hope for tomorrow un-tainted by what I should've or shouldn't have done in the past. Or, what I should or shouldn't do in the future. If tomorrow morning brings me a lovely view of the ocean as I sip my coffee I will just live in the glory of the present, at least for an hout or two...<br />
<br />
a Robservation<br />
11-5-10Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-2868085418277647372010-10-26T16:32:00.007-04:002010-11-06T22:54:58.571-04:00Playing Along With God - a Very Special Fishstick Birthday<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfxfnIddq0TKacjj9cR2U4M4oXKaiMhkzr9k9fcKxk4Z40qTCSl6w6U9iXiV7zj3R6_IZ3wxnrgbjc5_6bJ8S1221yhIdyM0Oj1_ioZ-8DrsoP1d9X7GF4op7N6UIrGbMyht75/s1600/God-at-the-helm-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfxfnIddq0TKacjj9cR2U4M4oXKaiMhkzr9k9fcKxk4Z40qTCSl6w6U9iXiV7zj3R6_IZ3wxnrgbjc5_6bJ8S1221yhIdyM0Oj1_ioZ-8DrsoP1d9X7GF4op7N6UIrGbMyht75/s640/God-at-the-helm-800.jpg" width="578" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Birthdays are always a bell weather mark. Some people make grand plans to make sure they spend their B-day at some memorable place and/or with a memorable person.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I have been to some very B-day worth places and have met some very B-day memorable people while on my quest/adventure but, I have ended up spending it at a place even more awesome than my puny dreams could have made plans for. I am spending it in exactly where God wanted me to be today so that providence, serendipity, coincidence cannot be explained away by some random crossing of the stars. It can only be called, as my friend Susie Mac coined a "Godincidence".</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">It is not important for me to tell you the facts. They would only be meaningful to me. But there is no way that I would have ended up in a Holiday Inn in Dansbury, CT by some random choice to go inland 50 miles to to I-84 to get past NYC without going right through it on I-95 then have an old client also be coming though this town, of which I have no idea where I am really at, who was having a chance meeting with a client of his, who needed some photography services, of which my client talked me up and told them that I, too, was "just happening" to be passing through town on my adventure/quest and he was available to meet with me today, only because I happened to be in town, far away from my intended route of following the coast, then most probably snagging a really nice job at a time of my adventure that is needing a cash infusion in a big way. All of this happening on my B-day.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Oops, I ended up telling you most of the story. But, doesn't give you goose flesh? Doesn't it make you realize that God is having a great time with our lives and all he wants us to do is play along?</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Days like today will make me give pause for a long time (at least a week) before I want to yank the helm back under my control.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">When I think of mutiny from God, I have to remember today. My birthday. a day I will never forget (for at least a week)</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">PS: If that statue looks familiar it is because you are eating too many Gorton's frozen fish sticks. Gorton's is in Gloucester, MA and ripped off their logo from the Lost FishermanMemorial statue which is right on the waterfront in Gloucester, where I was a few days ago. I almost didn't even take a picture of the statue because I almost had to stand in line with all the other tourist snapping it. I am glad I did now. was this another Godincidence meant for this blog posting?? Let's not get too mystical, Rob</span></span></span></div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-49085627542446887632010-10-25T17:30:00.000-04:002010-10-25T17:30:41.271-04:00Is Face Book the Face or the Truth?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WZRrU476xj2ncvURCGzIcYLvTX2XRAJnuMghh0P3IIgJqUO9umRC9xARBztGftfVtOmiZ96cdxhvyQoSbP92cIvAZQZPitdFcPePm7tRPjEXIZj_Ki6qhIidwsTy6nB-zCsv/s1600/sandy-beath-to-vignette-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WZRrU476xj2ncvURCGzIcYLvTX2XRAJnuMghh0P3IIgJqUO9umRC9xARBztGftfVtOmiZ96cdxhvyQoSbP92cIvAZQZPitdFcPePm7tRPjEXIZj_Ki6qhIidwsTy6nB-zCsv/s640/sandy-beath-to-vignette-800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I have been on my quest for the honest people and places in America for over a month now. So far I have met some incredible people and seen some postcard worthy sights.<br />
<br />
But, I am very discouraged by the overall frustration of trying to find joy and contentment by living even the most enlightened lifestyle. Frankly it sucks and makes me very discouraged that trying to live behind the mask we all present to the outer world is not worth it.<br />
<br />
Maybe our Face Book facade is the truth and the more we try to escape it, the more miserable we are.<br />
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Now that would be the ultimate irony for me. I spend my whole life trying to discover, then be who I really am only to find out that what I post on Face Book is who I truly am and not just what I want to be. <br />
<br />
That is, a collection of who I want to be perceived as by both myself and by others and not the person who I try to hide.<br />
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Is this journey through life just a collection of facades? Do we ever get to live in peace and contentment with ourselves and with others? What does NJOYIF mean?<br />
<br />
Asking tough questions is very tiring. But so is not quest-oning.Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-70681134102328026842010-10-16T22:58:00.001-04:002010-11-10T08:49:30.442-05:00America On The Edge?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCo2jAqgP4MF8UXfubo0ZYcfwb2kP-mGTxoQL79RtiPg03KdMvQjI2OmzZJ7RhsyapO-xeWHk22F7qnHLnjSJRerm5Q6gbb9XvTZfa70gh1f20x7ClCVx3zd-nKmFn7ICcdW-/s1600/America-on-th-edge-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="517" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCo2jAqgP4MF8UXfubo0ZYcfwb2kP-mGTxoQL79RtiPg03KdMvQjI2OmzZJ7RhsyapO-xeWHk22F7qnHLnjSJRerm5Q6gbb9XvTZfa70gh1f20x7ClCVx3zd-nKmFn7ICcdW-/s640/America-on-th-edge-800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">I am not sure whether to be inspired by whoever posted this flag in such a forlorn spot or be reminded of the desperate state our United Sates are going through. I guess hope happens most fervently when hope seems lost most desperately.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">Photo: Near Rockport, MA which is near Gloucester, which is not near anywhere.</span>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-60920981417167844402010-10-16T09:20:00.003-04:002010-11-10T08:46:34.132-05:00Are You a Root or a Rock?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bjQH9qGJYgT6ac1O8jg4QQgimJicbJqqfht71bH8L_6YWwRhiW1z6ML2NJ4n3bc0e0GMhB9zd-twte8yPx9MRfqLvmh2oFLyd9BUZVg2yXHT1tZn6sum2qVPPExO3ZfPwFZS/s1600/Overcome-Obstacles-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bjQH9qGJYgT6ac1O8jg4QQgimJicbJqqfht71bH8L_6YWwRhiW1z6ML2NJ4n3bc0e0GMhB9zd-twte8yPx9MRfqLvmh2oFLyd9BUZVg2yXHT1tZn6sum2qVPPExO3ZfPwFZS/s640/Overcome-Obstacles-640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Rocks seem strong and immovable but is that the best way confront the world?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remember the game of rocks, paper, scissors. Rock was usually the most powerful symbol but paper covered rock to win. Is paper in the game the root in nature? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Yes! Roots cover rocks in nature. It may take longer and more seeking for a root to cover a rock. But the root eventually overcomes the rock to survive and thrive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Rocks can't move</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> move. Roots can.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Roots find a way around obstacles in their path to survive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Rocks can’t prevent roots from growing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">What are the rocks in your path?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">How do you root round them?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-35359765355549397952010-10-14T22:30:00.004-04:002010-11-10T08:47:07.651-05:00Contradictions That Aren’t<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfde8zJuN8_earSYgA1s9ndnaFourz75KSs11lnedfJ3xjEppqqw7Dgz66kDVEsd-SQeMDALNOVChUjJ9y8lYiSJpbUeR6I-sBZTYYAaND1fJapYDz_FKYBszeCuqREVJ3Dsb/s1600/Alone-Together-HDR-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfde8zJuN8_earSYgA1s9ndnaFourz75KSs11lnedfJ3xjEppqqw7Dgz66kDVEsd-SQeMDALNOVChUjJ9y8lYiSJpbUeR6I-sBZTYYAaND1fJapYDz_FKYBszeCuqREVJ3Dsb/s1600/Alone-Together-HDR-640.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sometimes we feel all alone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">When we find someone else who feels the same way, we are alone together.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">In a much larger sense, all of us are alone together. We are individuals who have the need to live together, to survive each other.</span></div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-82586120338449352782010-10-13T13:05:00.006-04:002010-11-10T08:46:04.723-05:00Happy as a Clam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqmyJ-_y8JQvqXK7vmuUjvdGMuqSXU-MUCd5yuCyZKpdUU-P_gCXDl_zaaRw_wyT1W84p8ZH-dqV7iX_6r57FIGswkt2HaNSew06b7obymfFZClWOBihhS435Su0uYuccb4wf/s1600/Happy-as-a-clam-10-13-10-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqmyJ-_y8JQvqXK7vmuUjvdGMuqSXU-MUCd5yuCyZKpdUU-P_gCXDl_zaaRw_wyT1W84p8ZH-dqV7iX_6r57FIGswkt2HaNSew06b7obymfFZClWOBihhS435Su0uYuccb4wf/s640/Happy-as-a-clam-10-13-10-640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">This was one of those mornings I spoke of yesterday when I said that I sometimes end up after dark at a motel picked randomly from the many roadside inns that speckle Hwy 1. I have no idea where I really am until I wake up in the morning and see what is around the motel or nearby.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">There were a lot of motels along this one stretch of highway South of Kennebunkport, ME which made me curious as to why. I got up around dawn and went driving around to see what the attraction was. Turns it Ogunquit is the largest and longest natural sand beach in Maine. in fact it was the first sand beach I had seen in the entire coast. Every other beach is rocky and bouldery (bouldery?).</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">The public beach access and surrounding shops and beachfront hotels were a holdover form the 50's which inspired this postcard.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">You just never know what you will wake up to each morning. That is the fun and the gamble of road tripping with no goal or destination in mind. Does this mirror life? I dunno, but the clam shell seemed pretty smiley even though it had long since lost it's owner (or vice versa).</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">a Robservation for Oct. 13, 2010</span></span>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-79236979465890811812010-10-12T05:30:00.009-04:002010-11-10T08:47:42.726-05:00Quest-ioning -or- How to Prevent Cold Feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjrR7hJW6Y6z56EGYgghHp7OA-MmlmMe2riTb7jZlAq0gaF5rOPAemKsZ6LkzgWZ0q0d-5Zz6ZYKgR658Vav19LxN6_QBUW9Tim-H3G-KaY_JPQso7jPvVC6IaF6c2zEfDe7p/s1600/Van-on-beach-Brookline-comp-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjrR7hJW6Y6z56EGYgghHp7OA-MmlmMe2riTb7jZlAq0gaF5rOPAemKsZ6LkzgWZ0q0d-5Zz6ZYKgR658Vav19LxN6_QBUW9Tim-H3G-KaY_JPQso7jPvVC6IaF6c2zEfDe7p/s640/Van-on-beach-Brookline-comp-640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> I have been on my quest for questions since Sept. 24 and have not written one story about my individual experiences yet. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I was getting worried about it, not because I haven’t had some amazing encounters and heard some great stories. It is because the stories are becoming intertwined with one person leading me to the next and all their stories are becoming interconnected. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It is like I am picking up different color patches for a quilt that hasn’t been designed or sewn together yet. I know I am going to make a nice, warm quilt and I know it will fit a king size bed, I just don’t have enough patches yet to get started sewing them all together.<br />
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I don’t think this journey is going to be about individual stories. It is going to be how we are all interconnected by our individual searches for spiritual understanding, truths, God. We are all seekers in one way or another. Some seeking answers, some seeking a way to avoid seeking answers and others, like me, still seeking the right questions.<br />
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I have decided that the answers are not as important as continuing to ask questions. Once we stop asking questions because we think we have it all figured out, we are pulling up short of finding the ultimate answers, or in my case the ultimate questions. We may have sewn a pretty nice quilt, but is too short and our tootsies will get cold in the winter.<br />
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There is always pain involved with any growth. Most people say, “stop the pain” or try to avoid the pain at any cost. They find a comfortable spiritual belief system (or lack of one) and are not willing to keep quest-ioning for fear of running into a wall of pain (or cold toes). Some people think they can prevent pain ( and growth) by trying to settle down somewhere, put down roots and let many of the spiritual questions they still have pass on by. Others, like me am constantly curious about what is around the next corner. <br />
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On this trip I have found this to be so. I may find a perfectly good place to stay late some afternoon, but I am always curious to see if there might be something better just around the corner. Every time I push on until the daylight is almost gone I have discovered a better place. This is not to say that pushing my luck (curiosity) hasn’t always yielded a softer bed, or a more beautiful vista. It has resulted a couple of times of into having to stay in a no-tell motel where I feel the compulsion to check for bed bugs and smell the towels before using them. But, in the morning I usually wake up to a sunrise that reveals that the fleabag motel is actually right on the seashore and I meet someone fascinating that I would not have met had had not pushed on and stayed in the nicer, safer place I found earlier.<br />
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It is okay to not know. It is not okay to not know because I got cold feet and did not keep looking. It is also okay to not find the answers I was looking for. Because, the answers I find are always better than the ones I thought I’d find. <br />
<br />
The only way to find out the right answers is to ask the right questions. I know when the right questions are being asked when those questions are answered by even more questions that lead me further down the path of questing for the truth.<br />
<br />
Rob, on the road, picking up patches and putting them in my pockets. </span> <span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span">10-12-10</span></span></div>Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18488862.post-43636292356126396032010-09-12T07:15:00.006-04:002010-09-12T09:11:18.504-04:00Looking for Questions is the Answer<span xmlns=""></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXHGWX-ByjTIpsSf4Q2dY5ipVX3mW8EH83PIuBB1mnuvMkFfI-0jcxH8mALrYQkmnxYwoRMqvYUt9jzya5AdGxGtFM-vxNtI2hzVJnP_tIiQ7BpHXFDRreeTr3SazNH0v1fY_/s1600/Bru-bone.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXHGWX-ByjTIpsSf4Q2dY5ipVX3mW8EH83PIuBB1mnuvMkFfI-0jcxH8mALrYQkmnxYwoRMqvYUt9jzya5AdGxGtFM-vxNtI2hzVJnP_tIiQ7BpHXFDRreeTr3SazNH0v1fY_/s320/Bru-bone.JPG" /></a></div>I have always been curious about things. In school I was always asking the teacher, "Why?" I wanted answers to my questions. Sometimes I received them and other times I just got a shrug or the comment, "I don't know why, it just is. Shut up and sit down, you are disrupting the class!"<br />
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This was very frustrating. It became even more frustrating when I decided to search for God. There were just too many times when there was not a clear cut answer. The default answer to the most difficult questions, the "aha, I got you on this one God," questions were usually, "Sit down and shut up, you just have to have faith." As a person who could only believe in things I had an answer for, the "faith" answer, to me, was a cop out. It confirmed to me that my own theory about God not being real was true. I didn't know that God was just smiling at me wryly and goading me to keep asking and not stopping because I did not get a quick, satisfactory answer.<br />
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After many years of begrudgingly putting aside the questions that could not be answered I have received an answer to the faith question I did not see coming. The best answer to many God-size questions is another question. Jesus ended many parables and answered many questions with another question. It frustrated the disciples and it frustrates me when I read the Bible. I want quick, easy to understand answers that affirm what I already want the answer to be. It is much like when a Psychiatrist comes back to my question of "Why do I act like this?" with, "Well, what do you think?"<br />
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I finally get it. God is not trying to frustrate me by not answering my questions. He is telling me that I am not asking the right question, or are not yet spiritually or intellectually mature enough to understand the answer when I do hit on the right question. There are also big questions for which I can never understand God's answer. This does not mean the lack of an answer means God is trying to pull a fast one on us. He knows not to even try to dumb it down to a level I can comprehend. Heck, even the questions He does clearly answer usually baffle me. Mark Twain said, "It ain't those parts of the Bible that I can't understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand."<br />
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My school teachers often did not answer my questions either. They told me to go look it up for myself. God does the same thing. I have found that if I go digging for answers I usually get more questions, different questions or questions contrary to my original assumption of what I thought the answer may be. My need for an answer to the original question is superseded by my curiosity to pursue the new questions. I am like a dog with a bone. I will relentlessly protect and chew that bone until I have sucked all of the flavor from it then toss it aside when a new, bigger, more flavorful bone attracts my attention.<br />
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I am now like the guy who goes to the doctor and says," Doc, every time I bang my head against the wall it hurts. Can you make it quit hurting?" The doctor replies, "Sure! Try smashing your finger with a hammer instead and the pain in your head will go away."<br />
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The point is, seeking answers don't always make us feel better. The point of seeking God is to seek the right questions. Then chew the questions over and over again until it produces a new, more insightful question. Just like the purpose of life is not the destination, it is the journey. The same is true of the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. It is not the answers that are important, it is the contemplation of the question that is most satisfying and bears the most fruit.Robloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08146236554431044240noreply@blogger.com0