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Whenever a person declares themselves to be "out of the box" you can be sure they haven't moved further than an arm's length from it.
I went to a local production of Fiddler On the Roof last weekend on opening night. It was a great performance from a group of high schoolers and went off without a hitch. Well, only one hitch. In the next-to-last scene of the play, one of Tevya's daughters ran to the middle of the stage and fell down. At first I didn't know if this was part of the play or not. The girl got back up and ran off the stage, but Golde couldn't hold it together. She turned her back to the audience and tried to suppress a laugh. Her character broke open and we saw what was inside - not the strong, sharp-tongued Jewish matriarch - just girl in a high school play.
Last night my wife wanted to watch the Miss Universe pageant (something I usually avoid at all costs, along with figure skating and the Hollywood gossip shows), but I didn't have the energy to resist so we watched. Miss USA walked out for the evening gown "competition", took about five steps and fell right on her bum. Usually this would have made me laugh pretty hard, and I still chuckled a bit, but the woman got back up, smiled, and continued to work the catwalk. She didn't cry, or hurry through her walk to get away from the embarrassment. A fall didn't break her character, it revealed it.
Are you consistently late getting to work? class? appointments? You have the same distance to travel, the same basic driving conditions, same opportunity to schedule your time, and you're still late. And you will be the same 5-10-15 minutes late each time; you could set your watch by your own lateness. Then you have a new job, a new school or a new office to visit. What happens the first time you go? If it's me, I'm early. Well, I'm early as long as the new place isn't somewhere I think I know. The pattern of my tardiness is related to familiarity. When I know where I'm going I am more likely to be late than when I have doubts; it seems familiarity breeds contempt, but doubt breeds consideration. Maybe we could all use a little more doubt and a little less familiarity in our lives; our relationships. It could mean our timing would improve.
authority (u'thoritee)
1. the power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience; the right to act in a specified way, delegated from one person or organization to another
2. a person or organization having power or control in a particular, typically political or administrative, sphere
3. the power to influence others, esp. because of one's commanding manner or one's recognized knowledge about something
ORIGIN: Middle English : from Old French autorite, from Latin auctoritas, from auctor ‘originator, promoter’ (see author ).
Before you get too angry about being in the hole of (fill in your answer here, e.g. marriage, college, friendship, owning a pet, automobile) remember there was a time you thought you were holding a key and not a shovel.
one of the worst things that happens to us as we 'grow up' is losing the ability to dream with our eyes open. wake up. wake up and dream. you can do it. you used to do it all the time. remember.
What kind of scientist would be better: a scientist who believes only in empirical data or a scientist who believes in the impossible?
Give me a scientist who believes the impossible and then gathers empirical data - she is the only one who will discover something untainted by the body of science. The only one who would have found the sun at the center, atoms, and invisible viruses causing disease. Authentic empirical data is gathered only by people who reject empirical data. A true scientist, the best scientist, is a believer.
Flying from Ft Myers to Orlando to Norfolk in the window seat. I always take the window seat. I can't help looking out the window - regardless. Last February, Ten hours from Athens to New York with six of it over the North Atlantic and I still get a crick in my neck from looking down and to the right. Same thing today. The view from 30,000 feet fascinates me. It would be a great advantage to be a pilot 
who flies over my own city. I would have a living map of the streets and bridges and construction in my head. I could navigate better through the every days. But I'm not a pilot and I don't fly enough...maybe it's why I can't stop looking when I'm up there. Don't waste a second of the high, wide and moving perspective. Soak it all in. It'll be useful for finding your way on the ground.
Fort Myers. Gulf shore. I am walking at the edge of the shore break where I look for shark's teeth sifted to the top of the surf offerings. She is five feet out, up to her knees in green blue gulf, walking the other direction feeling for sand dollars with her toes. Two opposites. We pass, heads down in concentration but somehow glance each other's way at the same time. A hesitation. A smile. A moment. 'Finding anything?' The end of the question turns upward hopefully. 'Nothing much. Bit of a shark's tooth.' I hold out my treasure. She nods. 'They say out here on the sand bank you can find the best sand dollars and concs.' She shows me her shells. I nod back. We both move on. People who search have the search itself in common. They have the same posture and the willingness to share what they've found. They've decided there's something out there worth looking for...they are looking all the time and sometimes they find someOne instead of something.
who are you supposed to be? what is acting upon you to make you into something? where can you 
take a stand for the person you were created to be? who will be your help? who is telling you who you are...do they have an agenda of their own? who do you trust?
For a long time I thought if I could only learn how to drink deeply enough in the morning from God's well, I would make it through the day and do well. But when one day becomes as wide as the wilderness, one must find many oases in order to cross into tomorrow.
The author of this site is currently under construction.
There are some things I eat which taste so good in my mouth, but later my stomach turns sour or my heart burns. Eating crow has always been the opposite. It is bitter to eat my own words, to own up to them, to confess my failure or folly right out loud, but it never gives me a sour stomach or heartburn. I find I need to dine on crow with humble pie for dessert on a regular basis. It isn't the meal I drive cross town looking for, but it finds me nevertheless. So how do you like your crow? Me I'm into well done...maybe even like crow jerky.
