A Life Alive With Meaning

Joseph Campbell said “Life is without meaning. You bring the meaning to it. The meaning of life is whatever you ascribe it to be. Being alive is the meaning.”

Being alive, it sounds simple doesn’t it?  But what does it mean to be alive?  Do we each define that word for ourselves?  What does alive mean to you?

To me it’s more than just breathing, thinking, moving, eating, and sleeping.  To that is more or less the basics of living.  But alive, like energy flowing through your body.  Alive is to love, be loved, to laugh and to cry.  It’s to learn about yourself, try, fail and succeed. It’s not passing time waiting for something to happen or making a milestone although all of those this happen.

Alive is to experience and partake in the opportunities that come our way, or we make happen for ourselves.  Our successes are ours and only ours to judge and we’d be wise to remember that rule applies to everyone.  We need to respect the meaning others bring to their own lives.  We need to be willing to step up and help others reach for their dreams where and when we can.  Or at least that’s what I think and feel.

How do you define making meaning in your life?  How do you define what it is to be alive?  What excites you?  Have the courage to share, open up and be open to being alive, meaning and purpose.

Hairy A Sterotype To Be Seen

I attended a lecture recently on campus with a well-known professor.  While the lecture itself was fascinating, I ended up getting distracted by his hair.  It occurred to me that there is a stereotype around certain professors having crazy, wild or uncombined hair.  Popular culture tends to portray some professors as absentminded when it comes to anything other than their area of expertise.

I’ve also known of professors to wear wild clothes, crazy or outlandish outfits.  Again they can distract the audience with their clothing.  Whether this is intentional or not I have no clue.

I asked Beloved if he was ever prone to indulging in these stereotypical behaviours.  He, of course, immediately denied doing any of this.  And then the photo albums came out.  The ones from when he was very active in the lecture halls.  And surprise surprise, there was that one weird quirk.  An addiction to loud, wild ties that are so insane they don’t go with anything and thus work with everything.

For me it’s crazy glasses bought and worn only while lecturing.  Glasses that I don’t wear when I’m at home or just running errands or such.  Nope I have lecture glasses and some are serious or nerdy looking and others are frankly just a bit on the wild side.

So is this a quirk of the profession?  What do you think?  What about yourself or people you know?


Opportunity To Learn, Opportunity To Share

My energy needs balancing.  My chakras are not aligned and apparently my third-eye is closed, completely.  Not worry though, this can be fixed I’ve been assured.  I just need to work at it and make it first and foremost.  I need to put me first so to speak.

Oh and one more wee thing, I need to believe in it all.  I want to understand these enemy lines or meridians.  I don’t, not right now, but I’m hoping someone can explain it to me.  I’ve no clue how I’d know if my third eye was open because I suspect it’s always been closed.  I wonder what life will be like with it open.  What more will I “see”?

More important than having this stuff all work, is understanding it.  Understanding the theory and principles behind this.  Why?  Because if I understand it I’m sure it opens up a whole other avenue of exploration, awareness and learning.  And that excites me and energizes me.

So if someone can explain this all to me in simple terms I’d really appreciate it.  I’d also appreciate people sharing with me because we all have so much to offer and learn from each other.

Wholly Unrelaxing

I’m hoping someone can explain me to how golf is supposed to be relaxing because it’s anything but that for me.

Walking can be relaxing so I can see how that part of the game could be relaxing.  But it’s interrupted with hitting a little white ball.  The ball itself is okay.  It’s the hitting of it.  Rather the hitting of it into a small hole in the ground.

I don’t find hitting to be relaxing.  Especially when I’m expected to be able to direct the ball when I hit it.  Maybe if the ball went where it should instead of mocking me by staying put while huge divots are set free, maybe then it would be relaxing.

But then I’d still have to get the ball into the hole too, in the fewest number of strokes.  That again isn’t the most relaxing of tasks.

sure golf tends to take lace in the great outdoors.  Sure you may hear bird song, but you are liable to be eaten alive by mosquitoes too.

And there is the price of this game.  You pay good, hard-earned cash to become frustrated hitting a little ball around.  I don’t see how this is relaxing.  So I’m hoping someone can explain it to me.

Gratitude Gracefully Sharing

If I had my way, I’d adopt all the animals that needed adopting.  But that’s not remotely realistic.  It doesn’t stop me, however, from finding forever homes for the dogs and cats that shelters struggle to place.

most of these animals are either senior citizens or have health/behavior issues that require a little more time, effort and money.  But they aren’t throw-aways.  Not by a long shot.

When I came home with Piper, Beloved didn’t say a word.  He simply got some soft blankets, a brand new toy and some pillows.  Piper is an elderly parson’s terrier who has bounced from place to place once she reached ten years old.  Piper also happens to be blind.

The shelter had phoned and asked if we had a place for Piper or knew of anyone who could take her in.  If not they’d have to put her down.  So I left to get her without checking how Beloved felt about another addition to the family.  I was banking on his big heart, which seems to grow larger by the moment.  He didn’t let me down.

How people can discard a living animal simply because s/he has gotten old or needs some additional help I will not understand.  humans sometimes suck, big time.  I figure it’s our superiority complex or what have you.  Really it’s just ignorance and stupidity.  What makes someone think taking in an animal, offering it food and shelter for a number of years and then just leaving it, is okay?

Thankfully Beloved feels the same way I do and so he doesn’t hesitate when I bring in an animal even if just until I get it into a forever home.  While we don’t typically take in people. We will find services, housing and such for them.  We also have taken to visiting people who otherwise might not have visitors.  Beloved used to do this, in a previous life so to speak.  The first time he took me it seemed a bit strange, but now I enjoy it.  It gives me a chance to hear some amazing stories, met some amazing people and try to make the world a little brighter even if just for a few moments.

Some of the pets we have rescued have ended up in senior centres were they have taken a shine to the residents and the residents have taken a shine to them.  It’s these moments that bring me the most joy, make me feel like maybe more people are decent and only a few suck.  I want to believe this because heaven knows we have enough proof  of how people suck.

Let’s take the time to honour and enjoy the goodness in people.  The silent heroes who just go about doing their thing and don’t expect a story, glory or money for what they do.  If you have examples, let’s share and make a huge gratitude project reality. 😊

Prone To Puddle

There is a puddle on the chair next to me.  The chair that’s more in the shade.  The chair I chose to sit in, but then went into the house to get cool water for the dog.  When I came back my chair wasn’t available.

A slightly wilted human was in my chair declaring it was too hot to do much.  So the limp human had taken my chair, the one in the shade and was sitting trying to read a book.  What appeared to be a rather limp paperback to be exact.

Minute by minute by the wilting got a bit more severe until there was just a puddle of a person.  An immovable puddle.  One that barely responds, not even to the dog coming over to investigate.

It’s  strange how the heat affects different people differently.  I hadn’t really thought it was all that hot out, certainly not to the point of wilting.  Not yet.  But I need the shade because sun seems to feed lupus and give it more strength.  I don’t need lupus to gain strength, frankly a weakening would be welcome relief.

Of course when the hot part of the day kicks in, the dog and I will head into the house and cool off as needed.  As for the puddle, well since the puddle cannot move now I suspect that once the heat kicks in the puddle will simply disappear.

It does make me wonder how people long ago dealt with the heat.  Did the puddling prone people just not go where it was hot?  Did they evaporate?  How did the other people manage the heat pre-air conditioning days?  Pre-electrical fan and ice house days.  I’m talking the days when summer and heat just hang heavy and smother everything in their blanket of stifling air?  When people mostly worked out on their land, farming and what have you.  How did people manage?

How would the puddle beside me even hope to cope back then when now there are fans and air conditioning to revive the puddle to become a wilted person and then back to whole again?



Party Performance

Oliver is hanging on the arm of my comfortable chair.  Rufus is passed out on the floor.  Lucy is balled up in a corner and Bonnie is nowhere to be found.  Sounds like a wild party right?

It was, just not in the way you were thinking.  Yes there was some serious dancing, well body slamming at any rate.  Loud tunes?  Yep.  Food?  Sure.  But then the dog always eats food off the floor.  As for the body slamming, well that was him shaking and bounding around with his toys.

Bonnie is his tiny bunny and she easily gets lost because her squeaker stopped squeaking.  Lucy is a lamb with long dangling legs, floppy ears and a noisy tail.  Rufus is the dog’s first toy, the one who kept him company during those strange nights in a strange new house.  He and Rufus are almost inseparable and we’ve learned that he treats Rufus differently.  Rufus is treated with kindness and gentleness so he just kind of hung out while the party was going on.

Oliver is a bit of a wild child.  He’s an opossum who loves to fly, hang and get into all kinds of mischief provided dog is around.  Dog loves how Oliver is ready for anything almost as much as he loves the loud squeaky toys  in Oliver.

I’ve learned that after a wild party it’s best to just let the pooped party participants stay where they are.  If I attempt to tidy up before the dog is ready for that to happen he will drag his friends back out of the toy box.  And then he will make a huge mess with toys everywhere in the house.  Frankly that’s a small price to pay for a happy dog who loves me unconditionally.