Once, there were two monks – one old, one young – standing on a river bank …
The monks watched as the water began to rise. “We need to pass soon,” said the older monk. Nodding, the youngest agreed and the two stepped lightly into the cold wetness.
A distraught elderly woman appeared. “I cannot cross this stream,” she said. “Would one of you carry me to the other side?”
The younger monk refused. He knew better. To touch another, especially a woman, would be contrary to his teachings. He continued across the waters.
The elder monk, though conflicted at first, picked the woman up and carried her safely to the other side. He put her down, brushed off his robe and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said. He nodded in return and the two monks went about their way – the oldest smiling, the youngest frowning, overwhelmed with aggravation. “How dare he help that woman … how dare he touch another … it went against all their teachings!” Turning to his companion, he expressed his hostilities.
The old monk, still smiling, nodded. He placed one hand on his younger friend and said, “Yes, I carried her across the river. But I put her down on the bank. Why, my friend, are you still carrying her around?”
Today’s short account inspired by The Daily Post: A source of anxiety.
I read my horoscope today. I don’t usually read my horoscope – but I’m traveling today and when I travel I have a tendency to read just about anything to help my mind forget that it’s some 30,000 plus miles in the air. Major sidebar here – but why the hell does the lady in front of me think it’s OK to clip and file her nails whilst flying the friendly skies? I don’t know who she is, but the thought of her ever growing pile of debris is quickly turning these particular skies into a very unfriendly place. As it turns out, my celestial outlook for the next month is pretty average – probably a simple rewording of last month’s prediction, but the very last sentence in unlike anything I’ve read in a horoscope before:
Dawn does not come twice to awaken any of us.
For the first time in my life I have just read a horoscope worthy of paying credence too. A sentence worthy of closing a valedictorian’s speech to his fellow graduating classmates. Worthy of a presidential inaugural address. A parent’s issuing to a child. Possibly even worthy of tattooing in some pretty scroll across my right arm (if I were an ink person that is). And certainly worthy of repeating to the entire world if I were given the podium for a few minutes – should they want to listen … er, I mean read … Back to my sidebar, Suzy Chapstick (yes, I’ve named her) is now peeling a hard-boiled egg … the debris pile grows. Continue reading
You ever get that feeling that you’re all alone in the world – not literally, unless, that is, you live on some remote island where you really are all alone minus a few sand crabs and, if you’re lucky, a long lost barrel of hidden pirate’s rum. The kind of alone I’m referring to is the kind where regardless of the other seven billion human beings you share this planet with, you feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Almost as if you’ve turned invisible because for as far as you can tell, no one seems to care whether you’re there or not.
It happens to all of us. Yes, even the people who appear to have it all together. The confident ones. The poised and popular – even they feel left out on a limb sometimes. And it sucks. Really, really, really sucks. Because when you feel like there’s no one there to support you, it can be hard to get out of bed in the morning let alone find the will to breathe. Continue reading
Gross. Right? I mean who wants to sit that close to anything that might have inadvertently sucked up droplets of someone else’s pee?
My Great Aunt has one of these on her toilet. Myself, I have yet to actually see it but my mother swears it exists and her tall tale of woe from her last visit was enough to ensure that a.) I would voluntarily have a catheter inserted before visiting or b.) again, voluntarily, agree to piss outside in the middle of her driveway … even it means I’d have to drip-dry. Yes. Yes. I did agree to drip dry rather than sit my hiney on one of those furry seats. Continue reading
You know those parking lot enclosures – the ones intended to corral wandering shopping carts?? The ones at my Super Target are made from the same brick as the store so they coordinate nicely with the surrounding buildings rather than stick out like the dirty plastic ones at the Piggly Wiggly (OK – for all you locals that actually read my blog, I know – we don’t have Piggly Wigglies here but I like to say Piggly Wiggly more than I like to say Kroger so for the sake of my post I’m sticking with Piggly Wiggly – no offense to Mr. and Mrs. Kroger but your name just doesn’t have the same ring as Piggly Wiggly.)
Repeat after me … Piggly Wiggly. Piggly Wiggly. Piggly Wiggly. It’s fun to say, isn’t it? Continue reading
I think it’s time we all give the Wicked Witch of the West a break. I mean it’s plausible that the poor thing began her days with good intention only to have her deeds turn sour … and there is, is there not, a distinct difference between unintentional harm and purposeful, decisive damage. (Yea, yea … I know, I write about Almira Gultch and her inferior sister from the East a lot, but bear with me – I’m going somewhere with this one.)
Being wicked is not, by any stretch of the word the same thing as being evil. Pure evil is deliberate. It is premeditated cruelty with the agenda to cause pain. And it is, in my opinion, unforgivable. Wickedness, however, is an entirely different story. Continue reading
From a pure geographical standard the farthest I’ve ever traveled from home (the one I have here on Earth) is approximately 4,295 miles – this, according to the city distance calculator at geobytes.com, is an “as the crow fly” estimate so in all actuality it’s bound to be a bit more. Regardless, it’s a touch more than going from Portland, OR to Washington, D.C., and back again. Or, for the truly foreign among us, about 1.8th of the way to the moon.
I was 19, a sophomore in college, when I took that trip. You might think I’m about to say that I remember it like it was yesterday, but I’m not. Because in fact, it seems like the twenty some odd years ago that it was … except, maybe, for one tiny little – or not so little – thing. Continue reading