CHANGING TIMES

Though I still have yet to actually become licensed as a therapist, I'm beginning to feel the weight of Saturn's restriction insofar as anticipating the realities of the specificity of the job. I went to a lecture yesterday which is periodically given by my company Perspectives in which I was reminded of the new Medicaid regulations concerning treatment plans, the delivery of service, and so forth. Even my mentor Dr. Atchley - who has been in this business for quite some time - related to me that he had not seen the Powers That Be insist on the plans being this explicit. I can certainly understand why they want this kind of accountability for their money, but it will just take some doing. You can set goals for your clients and affix as many time-limited objectives as you wish, but ultimately it's up to the client to fulfill them. If they don't, then you just extend it out. But it shall be left to us to weigh, measure, and divide those tenuous elements of humanity which are so difficult to really pin down. I just need to review my CBT stuff and have faith. If I can balance my anxiety with actual focus and application on task, then I will be able to overcome.

AWAKEN

I AM BEGINNING to wake up from the sleep of Matter. I come to the awakening little by little, but it's a hard sell. I understand so much now what Blake meant when he said that "Eternity is in love with the productions of Time." Most folks think of Eternity as Forever - as Time infinite, but it's actually a place outside of time. Most people think of enlightenment as something to be sought after, but the people that are already there say that it is something that we all already have. It's not so much about getting as it is about letting things go.

What have you made into your god? Even if you say "God" is my god, you're more than likely referring to a religious conception of a god couched in some kind of cultural framework - the god that your parents taught you, a god that is "this" and "not that", etc. And of course in the Christian "cannot serve both God and Mammon" tradition of thought, some people make worldly things like money or sex their gods. But God is All - there is no place or time where God is not. God is kind as well as cruel. God is and is not. God is many and is one. Anyway, I think that Lao Tzu was right when he said that the more you talk about the Tao, the farther away you go from it. Less is more. There are so many fingers pointing at the moon these days that you'd think we'd all be more enlightened. But I think it's just made us more confused.

THE PASSAGE OF TIME

I had a good talk with my grandfather yesterday evening. He wants to believe that "there's no such thing as Alzheimer's" and bases this on something he says he saw on television. A federal judge, he related, threw out the diagnosis of Alzheimer's, telling the doctors who presented it that "you've been before me over 11 times now - I don't want to see you again!" A beautiful fantasy, but I reminded him of the reality of the dementia I had seen in my life and - most importantly - my grandmother's. "It's just old age," he said. My mom wanted me to talk to him because he was seriously thinking about taking my grandmother off her Aricept because he thought she didn't need it. I said that whatever you want to call it, it's a degenerative brain disorder that grandma has and, though medications can't cure it, they can slow the process and increase the quality of life that she has remaining. He seemed to understand this and accept it, but my mother and aunt continue to be worried about their welfare (they both still live at home). Though I share their concern, I can't help but admire my granddad for his steadfastness, his courage, his wisdom - even though it's been tempered with a heady dose of denial. He's living the life that he's always lived - a proud and unrelenting one. An American life...

ARCHETYPES OF THE ZODIAC

AS A GIFT to myself after passing my National Counselor's Examination up in Fayetteville yesterday, I wandered back to some of the old favorite places of mine which I frequented back in my college days. One of these is the Dickson Street Bookstore, at which my father and I spent $40 in fact. The same old bespectacled and bearded fellow I encountered back when I was a lowly undergrad was still running the place. One of the books I purchased is this one here to the right. I remember seeing it long ago and wanting to have it but, of course, not wanting to pay full price. I spent most of this morning's early hours engrossed in it, and it's absolutely wonderful.

This work reflects the very best of the ancient practice of astrology and all the reasons that I hold it dear - the realization of archetypal forces upon the mind of man. As for me personally, my sun's in Leo, my moon's in Virgo, and Aquarius is rising. Each chapter of the book tells of one particular Zodiacal sign and the old stories which support it, and reading Leo and Virgo so far have greatly illuminated the quest for my own self-knowledge. I've studied this stuff for years and have come across most of it some time or another in the past, but this book really brought it together for me and put it all in perspective. I am reminded, for instance, how often overshadowed by Virgoean self-doubt and some of the other Mercurial strengths and weaknesses.

Some people may have reservations about engaging the Western Mystery Tradition in any fashion, looking on it as a sacrilege conflicting with Christian sensibilities. To me, however, it is our heritage - a wealth of inner knowledge which demands to be explored by any serious psychonaut or person interested in psychology. One has to know one's self and thereby gain a sense of being genuine before he or she can go out and do meaningful works bourne of true spiritual purpose.

DREAMS

Lately my dreams have returned to me in all their splendour and majesty. One big contributor to this is the fact that I have relinquished all sleep meds for the past few days, which is a stretch for me. I was told by Rosemary - an RN at Vista Health where I intern - that with a steady diet of Ambien, one can get to where one's brain is dependent on them for sleep. I guess I already knew that, but it was sure nice to sleep straight through the night (albeit with no memory of dreams - ever). What was left was for me to be able to teach myself to sleep. I had looked at all kinds of techniques and stuff before and I had heard of the following one that she mentioned, but honestly I didn't think it would have as much of an effect that it did. What she suggested was not to lay in bed after waking early (which is what happens to me all the time). Instead, if you can't get back to sleep in like 15 minutes, you get up and do something else in some other part of the house. For me, I must avoid computer and TV with their flashing lights. The last time I did this, I just went and sat in the living room for a bit in the dark and then went back to bed without doing anything except that. Tonight if it happens, I'll study for my NCE. That oughtta do it!

Last night I dreamed that my grandfather was showing me a baseball grenade which was covered in leather. In a lot of my dreams, I seem to be wandering through apartment complexes or houses with which I am unfamiliar. Sometimes these places are haunted, but it's more of a startling effect with these rather than an outright nightmare. I can't remember the last time that I had what could be considered a nightmare, and I imagine that's a good thing.

I rediscovered part of a dream journal that I had begun back in 2005. This greatly inspired me, as it appears I was able to stick with that one for some months. I don't remember having a lot of these, honestly, but that's what makes them even more endearing to me I think. One back in March of 2005 (I think that's the right year) includes the following:

I think I saw a spirit guide in my dream last night. All I remember is a doll, like a ventriloquist's dummy, sitting in a box on a shelf. He was scolding me for not being able to project myself out of my body yet even after all the books I've read and instruction I've received. Then I became lucid for a bit - I remember looking at my hand in wonder. Seems like the voice urged me on to fly, which I did. I know that I was in and around a forest, but I can't remember exactly where.

Such is the subject matter of my mind. I look forward to returning to such great adventures, as this is only the tip of the iceberg that I have seen in my time. One thing I would love to be able to do, however, is to type the dreams without having the blaring light of a monitor or the hassle of waiting for a computer to boot up. I'm sure I'll figure something out. If I can just get the gist of it down, it will serve to continue to exercise that part of my mind within which these precious jewels of the unconscious are stored.

"... We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep." (from Shakespeare's The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1)

SHRINE

I had a wild hair and created this mini Buddhist shrine here in the computer room. I got the statue at Crazy Earl's not too long ago. Note the Karana Mudra that this image is sporting - it signifies the banishment of negativity, demons, etc. I learned from being in the houses of my Asian friends and relatives growing up that you put the Buddha way up high on a shelf like this. My friend Tuan Nguyen had godparents who had an electric "laughing Buddha" that you plug in - it was in their entrance room on such a high shelf. I really loved that thing, as it would randomly light up every now and again and laugh. This feature, however, freaked Tuan out, as he said he would be walking around the house late at night and the Buddha would just start laughing randomly (he felt) at him. If anyone out there knows where to find such an electric laughing Buddha, please give me the link, as I have searched the internet in vain for one to purchase...

Much to the chagrin of my Christian friends I'm sure, I've even toyed with the idea of featuring a different deity in my shrine ever so often in this manner. I have it in my mind to assemble images of Christ, Hecate, the Virgin of Guadalupe, Ganesha... Who knows? I don't think I'm an idol worshipper so much as a collector of symbols from the world's religious thoughts. Yes, yes, I know: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." But I believe that the nature of the numinous is as such that it demands a greater articulation and exploration. The One God has many faces.

PEACE OF MIND

I've not written to you, oh my blog, in quite some time.

This weekend, I've been convalescing from a cold and have somehow avoided getting a stomach virus which seems to be all around me. I slept a lot yesterday, which I indeed have to be sick in order to do. Overall, my body is better but somehow I feel like I'm unbalanced. Maybe it was the sleeping a lot... I'm in one of those "how am I going to get through this school and career thing and not feel like an imposter" moods, most certainly. Humility, I realize, is the integral state needed for spiritual progression, but I'm falling back into low self-esteem-type stuff, which, because the focus is on myself, is just as bad as being egotistical. At least I'm realizing this and processing it, I guess.

Again, too much thought...

Great Spirit, guide my way...

WILD WILDERNESS DRIVE-THROUGH SAFARI

So Jenn, Michael and I went all the way up north to Gentry yesterday to see this drive through zoo they have up there. All in all, it was a good trip I think. Here are just a few good highlights, as bandwidth on this site is limited. Peacocks, emus and deer are a very common and predominant sight there as they are wandering all over the place. Jenn found a fairly good sized peacock feather which were being sold at the front office for $1 a piece. Though we really bought nothing except a bottle of water from them, Jenn commented that the prices were not the usual gouging you would expect in attending a theme park or a theater (who could forget something like a $4 Coke?).

Watching all these animals and observing their various plumage, I got to thinking about natural camouflage and how it came about in the natural world. Naturalists are quick to say that the tiger's stripes are to help the beasts to be more stealthy and undetectable in the bush and so forth, but what I wish to understand is the origin of how such a selection is made from the genetic level. The tiger certainly doesn't just say in his head "I think I'll turn a little lighter because the scrub isn't as thick..." etc. Similarly, over time, prey species develop eyes which are more on the sides of their heads (allowing them to have an almost 360 degree sweep of vision), while predator species (like us humans) have stereoscopic vision which allows them to track and home in on prey. Interesting thought anyway. Enjoy!

OBSERVE MY HANDIWORK...

A week or two ago, our mailbox was demolished. This is a common occurrence in our neighborhood for years, and the source has varied from crazy-assed mailmen (who have only served to demonstrate the veracity of the term "going postal" by their actions which Jennifer has witnessed) to assholes who just want to tear shit up. The culprits of this last attack, we figure, fall into the latter category, though we can't be for certain. Anyhow, we stopped getting mail for a while because the box was just left lying in the yard for many days. Finally, just today, my father and I took to the task of repairing this thing for hopefully the last time (we went through this a little bit in times past, but it wasn't so bad as to knock the whole thing over before). We got 40 pounds of Quikcrete and half buried a little mold for the base before we filled it with the stuff. Here's a before and after for you, my gentle readers. Please observe Crybaby the kitty taking special note of our finished product:

The duct tape you see was to hold part of the crappy aluminum frame together as the rest of the thing dried. I buried part of the column itself in the concrete this time. The blue jeans you see were added because my dad said we needed cloth soaked in water to help the stuff to not dry too fast.



Our neighbor Debbie said that (a week or two ago) she heard something that sounded "almost like a loud motorcycle" and the sound of breaks squealing. When she looked outside a few minutes later, our mailbox was lying on the ground. Anyway, there's a piece of rebar driven down quite a ways in the ground now with the 40 lbs. of concrete anchoring it. I'll be curious to see if such an auto will be able to speed away after hitting that! Hah!

ANOTHER SAD ANIMAL TALE...

I must start off by saying that Jenn and I just came off of a good mini-vacation. I took her to see Jeff Dunham at the Verizon Arena in Little Rock on Sunday, and we stayed overnight and returned this morning. We stayed at a Best Western nearby which had been newly built, so that eliminated a lot of the usual problems one runs into when staying at a hotel. The only drawback was that somehow we got a room on the same floor as some kind of pee wee baseball team. We kept hearing preteen kids running up and down the hall and yelling occasionally. Jenn complained when this kept happening after 10:30 at night, and this seemed to help somewhat. The show itself was pretty good, but it really amazed me how such a simple comedic ventriloquist performance (with the addition of his friend the "Guitar Guy") commanded somewhere around seventy dollars a ticket (for floor seats). Given, one doesn't see that many ventriloquists these days and Mr. Dunham has worked for many years to make a name for himself, but wow... It's just the human touch, isn't it? The guy brought out jokes based on his life experiences, and he was genuine in doing that. Gives me hope for humanity in a way because people resonate to such a performance with such force. It's hard to explain, I guess...

But now for the sad animal tale. Jenn and I returned the rental car in the middle of the day today. Since I returned it to the Fort Smith airport terminal, we took lunch and even did a little shopping on that side of town. We usually go back to Van Buren the Barling way through the bottom lands when we're on that side of town, and we cross the bridge over Lock and Dam 13 to get over the river. It was on this bridge where Jenn spotted a cat that was not much more than a kitten - a little black one with some spots of white. She begged me to get out on the bridge as she turned around and try to get the cat out of this very life-threatening situation. I obliged, and we ended up kind of stopping traffic there for a few minutes while I tried to approach this terrified feline. When I first approached, it looked up at me with eyes full of terror and ran out of the middle of the road, jumping up on the concrete guardrail. "Don't jump, kitty," I said, but it was hard to use slow and deliberate mannerisms when you are in the middle of a bridge and traffic is flying by. I walked as carefully as I could toward the kitty. Panting from the heat, it looked back at me again with terrified eyes. Then, it looked down at the water flowing fast underneath us hundreds of feet below. As I walked to its side of the bridge, it hurled itself off and into the river. I watched with disbelief as it took what seemed like forever to hit the water. It floated away, and amazingly I think it survived the jump as it seemed to keep its head above water. I'm always going to carry that image in my head of the cat plummeting toward the water belly-down with all four legs extended. I feel a little guilty for hesitating at that critical moment when I was within arm's length of grabbing him, but I feared that 1) he might have had rabies or something similar and 2) that he would probably have clawed me to pieces if I did put my hands on him. Jenn consoled me by saying that at least we did try to do something for the little critter and that he was certain to die if he stayed on that bridge. Maybe he was able to swim to safety... There's a part of me that clings to that possibility. Jenn reminded me that the Lock and Dam 13 area is where a lot of people drop their unwanted pets off at. That's just depressing...

WORRY

Against all better judgment, I tend to worry about things. What if I totally flop professionally after graduating from John Brown? What if I'm not making the most of my time? What if my continually poor diet leads to health problems? I could choose any of a host of things to run over with in my mind, and I often do. Over the year, however, I have found ways to divert this constant morass of nagging and unproductive thoughts. I basically ask myself if there's really anything I can do about the issue right now. If there is, I will take action - even in some small way. If there's not, I rationalize and tell myself I'll pick another time to deal with it during a more opportune moment. Of course, this doesn't work every time, but I've found that this simple method is effective. Speaking from a cognitive behavioral perspective, a lot of my worry comes from my core belief that I'm lacking in different ways. Even though I was raised in a good loving home I still brought with me from childhood some feelings of inadequacy for whatever reason. Thinking back, I could have done and been so much more than I am today: the backwards-looking "what if" regarding things I might have done differently. One part of me dwells on such regret, while the other focuses on present-day opportunity (and the latter part is the one that I try to feed the most).

Being a former English major, I'm always interested to divulge the etymology of certain words. I looked for this with the word "worry" and found the following at Answers.com:

Worrying may shorten one's life, but not as quickly as it once did. The ancestor of our word, Old English wyrgan, meant "to strangle." Its Middle English descendant, worien, kept this sense and developed the new sense "to grasp by the throat with the teeth and lacerate" or "to kill or injure by biting and shaking." This is the way wolves or dogs might attack sheep, for example. In the 16th century worry began to be used in the sense "to harass, as by rough treatment or attack," or "to assault verbally," and in the 17th century the word took on the sense "to bother, distress, or persecute." It was a small step from this sense to the main modern senses "to cause to feel anxious or distressed" and "to feel troubled or uneasy," first recorded in the 19th century.

I like that image of being strangled, as that says it all.

As I often preface this to my friends, I know the thought of one's eventual and inevitable death is a morbid thought (and obviously this fact of life is a great source of worry and fear for a lot of people), but actually it helps me with being able to rationalize the absurdity of some of my worries. Who will be around in 100 years to acknowledge any of my shortcomings? What will it matter to me then pending the time I've ceased to draw breath and after my body has been simplified by cremation into dust? One could use this as a license to totally live for today and totally not give a shit about anything, of course, but that's out of balance as well. Going in that direction, you're bound to have some regret regarding what could have been or find yourself homeless at 40, having burnt all your bridges with the people you know after so many years of self-indulgent celebration. Life's meaning is something that you create for yourself as you go within the parenthesis of birth on one side and death on the other. You cannot control the happenstance of your birth or the inevitability of your demise, but you can work to make the most of your life in between.