I used to be one of the most efficient drivers on the road, which means I was a real a-hole.
God forbid if you ever stopped in the right turn lane and waited for the light to turn green before merging. And don’t even get me started on the “idiots” who would block the right turn lane by not staying close to the center divider.
People who drove too slow in the fast lane were “morons,” but “psychos” who drove faster than I did deserved a ticket.
Don’t forget who is in the backseat while you are roadraging
Thank you for all the peace you create in this world.
Thank you for being love. I now realize that when I am loving, I am you. When I am full of fear, hatred, or anger, then I am pushing you away with both arms. If I open those arms and expose my heart, then you are always there to give me the love I need.
Thank you for being the best teacher I have ever had. Your lessons are custom made to help me work on what I need to learn in this lifetime. Your patience and foresight are beyond measure.
Thank you for showing me that life is like a jigsaw puzzle: The individual pieces may seem incoherent, chaotic, and sometimes dark, but if we look at the bigger picture, we experience beauty, unity, and meaning.
Thank you for my two beautiful children, although they are not MY children–they have simply chosen me as a path to learn and teach what they came here to do. I now realize that the way we love our children is the way we are meant to treat each other. We are all children, parents, and relatives of each other. Our role is to blow spirit into others and let them fly.
Thank you for making life a game with all sentient beings our teammates and our ego the opponent.
Thank you for your presence for it teaches us that the easiest path towards godliness is to be present at all times.
So much is going on this week that I don’t have time to catch a breath.
First, I will be a guest video poster at The Outlier Collective. For those of you who don’t know, TOC is a blog created by Le Clown and Madame Weebles. Each week, they choose a topic and invite bloggers “to weigh in on the weekly topic, in whatever way they choose. The results are sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, sometimes passionate, always thought-provoking.” Continue reading →
I reacted like I normally do–I screamed bloody murder. What was different this time was that I was conscious of what I was doing.
It was as if I was standing outside of myself watching like a silent bystander. “What an idiot,” I mused as I watched me spiral into more and more anger as the poo contaminated water splashed all over the bathroom floor.
I became painfully aware that the screaming me was running a program without any thought or compassion. The screaming me was angry not because of the situation, but because it seemed like being angry was the proper response. The observer me noted that one of the reasons I was screaming had nothing to do with my son or the poo. I was screaming so that my wife who was in the kitchen could hear. I was screaming because I felt unappreciated for ALWAYS having to clean up the poo. Continue reading →
Have you ever noticed how hard it is to be compassionate while you are in a rush?
When I am in a hurry, I get this feeling like I am leaning forward and I need to keep moving not matter what. When something inhibits my progress I get tense, frustrated, and, sometimes, angry.
My sons seem to slow down on purpose when they sense that I am in a rush. Like many of you experienced parents have told me over and over, our children are here not just to learn from us, but also to teach us.
After numerous episodes of screaming, time-outs, and dragging, I’ve finally learned to slow down. Does it really matter if my son is late to kindergarten? Will it adversely affect my 3 year old’s brain development if he misses one “Circle Time” at his preschool? Continue reading →
The thought kept ping-ponging in my mind after shoving my bawling 5 year old son into his kindergarten class.
This morning he decided that he wanted to ride his scooter to school rather than his bike. I told him that the bike was quicker, but he started whining, so I let him take the scooter. 18 minutes into trek, he starts whining again, “Daddy, I’m tired. I want to stop.”
We are 10 minutes away from the school which starts in 8 minutes.
Happier times before scooters became an instrument of torture.