Excuse My Muse

A group of professional people interviewed 4 to 8 year-olds asking,
"What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than
anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and
paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too.''

Rebecca - age 8

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.You know that your name is safe in their mouth."

Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.."

Chrissy - age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."  Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."  Danny - age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that."  Emily - age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen," Bobby - age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."  Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."

Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore," Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."  Elaine-age 5

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."

Lauren - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget,"

Jessica -age 8

And the final one -- Author Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just stayed there. When his Mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Regards,
"Be who you are and say how you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

This is one of my favorites.

My Cup Has Overflowed
======================

I've never made a fortune,
and I'll never make one now,
But it really doesn't matter
'cause I'm happy anyhow.

As I go along my journey
I'm reaping better than I've sowed.
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.

I don't have a lot of riches,
And sometimes the going's tough
But with kin and friends to love me
I think I'm rich enough.

I thank God for the blessings
That His mercy has bestowed.
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.

He gives me strength and courage
When the way grows steep and rough,
I'll not ask for other blessings for
I'm already blessed enough.

May we never be too busy
To help bear anothers load.
Then we'll all be drinking from the saucer
When our cups have overflowed.

~(c) John Moore, 1970~

A Pagan in Hell

A Pagan dies, and to his great surprise finds himself standing before some pearly gates.

The guy in charge looks him over before asking, "Can I help you?"
"Where am I?" asks the Pagan.
"Beg your pardon?" the other guy asks. "You're in Heaven, of course."
"B-but I don't believe..."
"Hmmm" (squinting his eyes) "are you one of them Pagan folk?" the gatekeeper asks, his mouth curling in mild distaste.
"Yes, I am... I believe I'm in the wrong place, which way is the Summerland?" our Pagan friend asks.
"It's been 'temporarily' shut down for repairs," the gatekeeper said with an ironic chuckle, "ever since we took over...err...I mean... since the people found their way to the true path."
"Whatever," says the Pagan, "What do I do now?"
"I'm sorry sir, but you must go to Hell. No Pagans allowed here."
"WHAT? Hell? But I don't believe in Hell!"
"Sorry, those are the rules, just follow the downward path to the left."

So our Pagan friend walks down to Hell, only to find the doors open. He warily goes in and looks around to see beautiful meadows, and animals happily roaming the surrounding woods. "Hmm, so far so good."
A voice behind him made him all but jump out of his skin. "Can I help you?"
"SHEESH! Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you?"
"Ahem... a little too late for that, isn't it?" the guy said with a smile.
"Who are you, anyway?" our friend asks.
"Why, I'm Satan," the other one said with a slight bow.
"Satan?!" said our friend as he started looking around nervously.
"At your service... you're the Pagan guy Pete called us about, right?"
"Pete... oh the guy in Heaven, yes..." he said, eyeing Satan carefully. "What's gonna happen to me now?"
"Well, you can hang out, there's some great fishing going on in the lake beyond these woods and, if you follow the road down this way, there's refreshments and a little market not too far and to your right. I believe the Pagan meeting grounds are just behind that hill..." Satan went on.
"Are you serious...?" he finally asked.
Satan grinned at him innocently. "Why shouldn't I be?"
Sudden understanding filled Satan's eyes. "You don't believe the rumors, do you?"

Suddenly, in answer to our friend's growing fear, the vault of the skies opened with a thunderous groan. A soul, plummeting through the sky, screamed in terror, his screams drowned by the opening of a yawning chasm full of fire and brimstone. The stench of sulfur thickened the air.Thousands of howling, suffering, tortured voices echoed through Hell. When the screaming soul finally fell into the pit, the ground shut closed with a sickening thud that rattled the earth.
Our Pagan friend all but soiled his undies as he yelped in terror. "And what was THAT all about?"
Satan rolled his eyes, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand as he said with a distasteful grimace. "Oh, just ignore that..." He rolled his eyes again. "My Christian guests refuse to have it any other way!"

All Gods are One

Well, it had been yet another bad day in the office,
and once again it was the fault of that new girl,
Mary Anne. She is one of those Pagans, a so called
witch. How can anyone in their right mind make this claim, knowing that it goes against God and all of the teachings of the Bible?

She doesn't even have the common decency to keep her satanic symbol, her pentagram necklace hidden from the view of the decent, God fearing people in the office. She has some nerve. I find that I cannot hate her for this though, for I know that she has been deceived. Satan works his evil in ways that she cannot see. I've seen that so called Wiccan Rede that she has tacked to the wall above her computer.
On the surface, it looks like a decent loving belief,
but all one must do is look, look closely and see that by practicing this way, and not embracing Jesus
Christ as savior, she is on the pathway to hell.

As I've said, it was a bad day in the office. Three
times in the past few weeks I have been called in to
see my supervisor, and he has told me that I am not
allowed to preach to Mary Anne the word of God, to show her the error of her ways. Today, my supervisor told me that if I continue to "harass" Mary Anne, he will be forced to terminate me. How can he say this? He himself is a God fearing man. And, how can he be so tolerant of the evil that he sees insinuating itself into our workplace?

As I lay down to sleep last night, I asked the Lord
for guidance. "God, grant me a true vision of you, so that I may better lead the faithless onto the
righteous path." "Oh, a true vision of Me is it?
Are you sure that you're ready, truly ready to see, my son?"

I sat bolt upright in bed, and there, at the foot of
my bed, white of hair and beard, in a long, flowing
white robe, stood the Lord my God. I made to leap from the bed and fall to my knees in front of Him, but he stopped me with a gesture. "Kneel not before me at this time my son. Instead, rise and walk with Me, so that you may get a glimpse of what I truly am, as you asked of me in your prayer."

He took my hand, and as I looked, my bedroom was no longer there, but a pathway thru the woods. We started to walk, and I was too awestruck for words. We took the path to the left, and we were then inside St. Catherine's Church, in the middle of a service. While still standing beside me, God seemed to expand and fill the whole of the church. I could see smiles of contentment forming on some of the parishioners faces. I felt blessed. God smiled upon me. "The Catholics hold such pretty masses, don't they? I like to stop here in this church, because not only do they speak the words, but they live the life, thru teaching, helping the sick and poor, not only with handouts, but helping them learn to help themselves. Now let us walk on."

And we were back on the pathway. We traveled a bit further along, and then were in the parlor of a
funeral home. A young woman was kneeling before the casket, resting her head on it and crying. I could see by the similarity, that this dead man must be her
father. God knelt bedside her, and drew His arms about her. "Miss him, that is all right, but weep not for him, for now he is with Me." She wiped her eyes, and stood with a sad smile upon her face, and said "Good-Bye Daddy. I'll miss you." and turned and left the room.

And we were back on the pathway. We walked a little ways, and we were in front of a large lodge of
some kind. I could hear music and laughter spilling
out of the window. I turned to look at God, and was
shocked to see, not the flowing white robe, but Him
wearing leather and animal furs, his hair and beard
now the color of wheat, and a sword strapped across His back. He strode forth, and I saw him approach a figure I had not seen before. As I looked close, I was shocked to see that it was the same face that I had just seen dead, but looking young and strong, and dressed in ancient looking garb, an ax strapped to his waist. God strode up to him and grabbed him in a great bear hug. "Welcome my son. We've been waiting for you. Now, go inside and raise a cup or two, and meet with your brother." And, with a hearty slap on the back, he sent the man inside. And then we were back on the pathway.

We walked a bit further, and then we were in a mosque. At least I believed so, as I had never been in one before, but had seen pictures of them. The group of worshippers was not large, but I could see their rapt faces as they listened to the mullah speak. He was speaking to them of purity, both of the mind and the body, bringing them closer to Allah. And as he spoke, God, dressed now in the robes of the desert, walked among them and briefly laid his hands upon each set of shoulders. And, from their faces, I could see that these men knew that the words of the mullah were true, and that their spirits felt touched by God. And then we were back on the pathway.

After we had walked a bit, we found ourselves in an African village. People with skin as black as night,
the women with their breasts shamefully bared, were dancing in a circle, to the rhythm of the drums being played by a group of men. Somehow though, I was not offended by the bared breasts, and the music seemed to seep into my soul. God was then a mighty lion, and He let forth a mighty roar. The villagers did not seem to hear, but the drums increased their pounding, and the dancers danced with a frenzy. and then we were back on the pathway.

We walked a bit more, and were on the top of a cliff. There sat, painted and covered with feathers, an old Navajo man. As I watched, he seemed to change into the form of an eagle and take flight, and we were flying with him, soaring high into the air, seeing the vista spread out below us. And God, in the form of an eagle Himself, seemed to guide this other eagle thru the air, over mountains and thru valleys, until he came upon a group of men. As I watched, the old Navajo man was no longer an eagle, but a young boy instead, and he sat at the feet of these men, to listen to the words of his elders. And then we were back on the pathway.

We traveled a bit, and then we were in a forest
clearing. I knew this place. It was known as a place
of devil worship and evil. In the center of the
clearing roared a great bonfire, and kiwi torches
outlined a circle of sorts. Inside this circle, in a
circle themselves, stood 7 men and 6 women, dressed in robes of varying colors, their arms raised to the moon. Was that one woman Mary Anne? I really couldn't be sure. And God walked among them in the circle, touching each one. He seemed not to be an older man now, but as he made each of three turns around the circle, he was first a young girl, bouncing with energy, then a woman of middle years, with a tender smile for all Her children, and finally, an old woman, body bent, but holding Her head up with pride. And a woman stepped forward, and yes, it was Mary Anne, and lifted her head to the sky. "Great Goddess, Mother of us all, thank you for joining us tonight. Stay if You will, go if You must. Know in our hearts You will always be welcome. Blessed be!!"

And we were back on the pathway.

As we walked along, ahead in the distance I saw the most beautiful man. Yes, beautiful, though I would never normally think of a man this way. With blonde hair, and a golden robe, he seemed to radiate sunshine. God and this golden man nodded to each other as they passed, sharing a smile together. "My Lord" I asked, "was that an angel?" "Well, yes, he is known as that to some. He is also known to some as a god himself. That was Lucifer."

And His words caused me to stumble. I couldn't believe that we had just passed the ultimate evil. God looked at me, and He knew my mind. And he chuckled a bit. "Think about it logically My son. The Lucifer that you know is a fallen angel, cast out of heaven for challenging Me. If I am the all powerful being, above all others, how could he do this? How could I allow it?" "But, the Bible..." I stammered. "The Bible is a wonderful book, as are the Koran and the Torah and many others, but they are just books, written by the hand of man, not written by Me. And, it's a bit confusing as well if truth be known, but that's not up to Me to fix. These books are wonderful, but only as guidance, for each man and woman must think for themselves." And, I believed He was right in this.

"Now, come forth, we must journey a little more before you go back." And He took my hand once again. As we followed the pathway, we soared thru the stars, listening to the music of the heavens, we became a little flower and a mighty oak, we became a babbling brook, and a mighty ocean. We flitted from flower to flower as a little honey bee, and ran across the plains as a mighty stallion. And, all too soon, the pathway returned us to my home. God held my hand a moment longer, and smiled into my face, "My son, you prayed tonight for a true vision of Me. For vision, you must only open your eyes and see what there is to see. Good night to you."

And then He was gone, and I was back in my bed. A dream I thought, only a dream, that couldn't have been real. At that time, a bolt of lightning lit up my room thru the window, and thunder crashed thru the sky, and I thought I heard, from seemingly far away, "Remember, the Lord works in mysterious ways My son."

This morning as I entered the office, I went to the
machine for a cup of coffee, and standing there, I
spied Mary Anne. As I approached her, I could see her barely cringe, and I could see in her face that she was expecting yet another onslaught from me and my book. She seemed to cast her eyes about for a way to escape, but there was none. I walked up to her and smiled. " I think I owe you a bit of an apology" I said. "I've been a bit narrow minded of late, and I really had no right to subject you to what I did. It's not up to me to say how you find your path to your spirit, and I was wrong to think that was so." Mary Anne just stood there, not knowing what to say. "So, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry,
and I hope you will forgive my trespass. God bless you Mary Anne, and...uh...Blessed Be?"

You know, I always thought that it was just a saying, about people's jaws dropping to the floor, but Mary Anne did her best at that moment to prove me wrong...

THE HUNDREDTH MONKEY BY KEN KEYES, JR.

This book does not deal with petty matters.

It tells how to operate our lives — and our world.

It tells us how to stay alive!

The mess we've brought upon ourselves is a most perilous and challenging one.

The broad picture pieced together here will show you the immensity of the nuclear dangers, the futility of any defense or protection, the power of the new awareness and your role in the unfolding drama.

There is a phenomenon I'd like to tell you about.

In it may lie our only hope of a future for our species.

Here is the story of the Hundredth Monkey:

The Japanese monkey, Macaca fuscata, has been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.

In 1952, on the island of Koshima scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkeys liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.

An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers, too.

This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists.

Between 1952 and 1958, all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable.

Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.

Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes — the exact number is not known.

Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes.

Let's further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

THEN IT HAPPENED!

By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them.

The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!

But notice.

A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea —

Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes!*

Thus, when a certain critical number achieves an awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.

Although the exact number may very, the Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the consciousness property of these people.

But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone!

Your awareness is needed.

You may be the "Hundredth Monkey" . . . .

Whoa....things have changed here at tblog, and not for the better!

What's up with all the drugs, porn and solicitation of all sorts?

Isn't selling Oxycontin illegal? Among other things, doesn't it kill?

Me thinks this place has hit rock bottom and needs to stand up and say "My name is tblog and I'm a drug selling, porno watching, blog-a-holic."

WTF?

Thank the Gods for bloggers like Maha, Dariana, Irish and the like....without them this place wouldn't have a "better side of the tracks."

Rant over.

I really should give my new blog a new look...but what?

I'm not so html talented like all the others here...all I can do is change the colors tblog lets me. I so wish I was a fancy graphic artist so I could make my blog reflect my personality....thus I am not, so boring 'ol plain colors it will have to be.

If I ever get the time to do it that is.

Happy day tbloggers...