Beggar version 1

I’ve always wondered about the homeless. I mean, nobody wants to be a sucker. But nobody wants to be a miser either, or at least I don’t. So every time I see someone on the side of the road by a freeway onramp I feel the fight inside me resume, naiveté vs. pragmatism, urban legends about bands of bums that live in expensive neighborhoods vs. the imploring eyes and reality of a human being, feet away, begging.

What would that be like? Opening yourself up to the pity, eyes and aspersions of the passing public, everyone and everything invited to observe you in this space you’ve ended up in. Your world is the people happening past, and their reactions to your face are how you construct your views of yourself and the world. For somebody like me, what would an experience like that feel like?

Well, you could have trouble at first, with getting into character. The game of deceit is such a temptress of giggles and smiles.

You could sit down any old place, in front a grocery store for example, cross your legs and realize how cold cement is. Then you might set out your little tin can and prop up a cardboard sign you agonized over writing from the warmth of your apartment.

You could close your eyes, bow your head and pretend to sleep, half from desperation not to make eye contact with anyone.

You could realize how egocentric each sound becomes in danger and darkness, how every rustle and every footprint are suspect, representing some living thing that sees you, considers you, and then does something to you, whether to ignore, judge, pity or pardon.

You could feel a slight shake as your head hangs down and to the side, your neck aching, and mutter an amazed thank you as a girl in brown boots presses a crumbled five-dollar bill into your palm with a warmth that makes you genuinely want to cry.

Yeah, you could learn a lot of things.  Who knows, might even do you good.

Bridle your passions

This is 'the gospel according to Kate', so bear with me. I've been hesitant to give commentary on anything religious because there is so much in life I haven't figured out just yet. But I wanted to share what has been on my mind.

I've been thinking about whatever it is that makes the difference between gritting your teeth and powering through, sticking with something or giving up. Drive. Ambition, desire, motivation. Whatever you call it, I've been thinking about that.

The best word I've found to get at the underlying idea is passion. This word lead me on the thought train to a scripture in the Book of Mormon. Alma 38:12 says, "See that ye bridle all your passions."

Bridle is most often used in association with horses. I've never heard in a context besides these two. Is the meaning the same? Do we bridle our passions like horses are bridled?

The definition of bridle on Dictionary.com says that it means 'to control'. I have always thought of this control as beating my passions into submission, as if they needed to be bullied and broken to be controlled. But that's not what is done with horses. Yes, to bridle them you must be firm, but it also requires patience perseverance. And then what happens? We ride them. We use that energy to get places we could never have gone on our own.

I think bridling your passions isn't squashing them, it's putting them to work for you. When you decide what you want you can channel your passion in that direction. It's like a damn. You are focusing that energy and directing it so that it's useful.

So that's the gospel according to Kate, or at least Alma 38:12 according to Kate. Amen, hallelujah!

Loosing track

Electrocuted pigeon falls from sky into residential area. That's not one you hear every day. I guess it’s not quite as newsworthy as a tipsy Italian cruise ship or the latest greatest terrible Hollywood sequel, but he haunts me. Have you ever seen an electrocuted anything? 

Picture this: A soggy, water-logged family, sun-burnt and frazzled from a day tearing apart the lake. They pull up the home drive, desperate for bed, bath, passivity and motionlessness.  But the command is given. Nobody does nothin’ until the toys get put away. Rusty, crumbly unidentifiable objects are bullied and broken to create a boat sized hole in the dank garage, as little effort expended as possible. And then, as the boat is settled into its misshapen berth, a loud POP shatters the air.

Not the car. Not the boat. Not the house. Each constituent of the little group takes stock of the world around them, observing what they had only see with eyes half open up until that moment. A frenzied fluttering storm cloud of feathers trembles beside the fence. Tottering and staggering like a drunk, reeling, the miserable pigeon tries to take flight. He flips painful-looking somersaults amid jolting unnatural convulsions and tremors that toss his body like one possessed. The people look on, quiet, until he is reduced to an inert pile of gray.

I don’t know why I still remember him so well. Maybe I just can put myself in the place of someone who misses an ugly black wire while staring at the immensity of the sky. 

Modern Miracle Meltdown

My computer had a heart attack and I haven't been able to take it to the hospital yet, so we'll see if it survives. This poses a problem and an explanation for the recent lack of posts. Sorry! I say that more to me than you, but it's okay, we can share, there is definitely enough sorry to go around for the few who even know this blog exists. I'll keep you updated on his condition and let's all pray he get's well soon!!!

Continuation of Last Post

I would like to pick up where I left off and complete that thought. That might happen a lot here, so be prepared. In my last post I talked about the overwhelming amount of information available in a bookstore or a library, I didn't even mention the internet, which is information overload on steroids.

What do we do with all of this information? We can't possible take it all in. I don't care what you aunt told you about humans only using 10% of their brains, we simply aren't equipped to handle the mass amounts of information available to us. In one of my classes a teacher of mine said that the average person today learns more in a day than the person a hundred years ago learned in a month and in some cases a year. I have no sources to back up that claim, besides the fact that one of my professors at a accredited four year university said it, but I can see how it would be true.

We have to filter. It's a defense mechanism. We do it with our five senses everyday, throwing away information taken in visually and through sound and touch and smell and taste. Cool side note: Have you ever not been paying attention to what someone was saying, only to have them pause, expecting a response? What usually happens? For most people you can actually stop and think and pull back that information and look at it and then respond. That is pretty amazing when you think about it. Your brain filtered that information as unimportant (because you thought the wall behind your friends head was more important than what they were saying or whatever your excuse is) but you are actually capable of going back a short distance into all that information and taking a second look, to see if your first categorization of that information was correct and to reassign it if appropriately. End side note.

The kind of information overload and filtering I'm talking about here though is a lot more conscious. We choose at a much more aware level what we deem as valuable information and what we just take out with the day's trash. With this in mind, consider what criteria YOU use to decide if something is important or not. What are your filters? How do you decide if information is valuable or not?

TO BE CONTINUED!!!!


 

Lost in the library

Today I had a bit of a nostalgic moment as I perused the aisles of the bookstore on campus. It reminded me of my days working at the library at my old school. I used to wander the aisles and just stare in amazement at all of the titles of all of the books that so many people had written, each with, probably, at least one valuable thing to say. Just the mass of information available nowadays is overwhelming. I always, and I mean ALWAYS, as in no exceptions, bite off more than I can chew when I am checking out books from the library. The other day I went in to find some books on poetry for a class I'm taking and I came out with at least eight, one of which was a huge anthology that weighs about as much as a toddler. I think it's the same problem kids have when serving up their plates for dinner, my eyes are bigger than my stomach, or my time and desire to read and absorb all of that information and sift through for the valuable. Do you feel that though? It's almost like greed, the want to understand everything and soak it all up, fill yourself up on words and ideas that fill you and expand your thinking at the same time. Books are the best. I think that's the underlying point.

Creative Non-Fiction 362!

So, this is a New Year's Resolution, but I'm starting a little late. Three days, to be exact, which explains the number in the title in case you were wondering. This year I want to write something on here everyday, yep, every single day. That means there might be a lot of short entries and a lot of not very good ones. So I beg your pardon in advance, read on forewarned! It might make for some really creative ones as well, considering I get bored doing the same thing too much, just like your average joe. The style I will write in by default is going to be creative non-fiction. That seems to be a pretty good baseline for me. I'm not going to limit it to that but most of my entries will be that, at least when I'm not feeling the need for change. Technically, this is creative non-fiction, and I'm really tired, so I hope this counts for tonight and I'll see you with something hopefully a little more exciting in the morning!!! Ciao ciao ciao!!!