Matthew 10:29-31 talks about "That not even a sparrow falls to the ground without Our Dear Heavenly Father knowing about it."
Do you think he yelled "Oh Crap" a couple of weeks ago when over 1000 birds just fell out of the sky and died in Arkansas and Louisiana?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Life Shapers
I am not a philosopher, I can't "wax-eloquent", and I have a difficult time putting my thought down in prose. That is probably because capturing them is like herding cats...they run around inside this melon on my shoulders at just under the speed of light; making it very difficult to catch on to them long enough to explain them. And when I do...another one distracts me and here we go again. My only recourse is to stop trying to grab hold of them and reflect. It is like ignoring a child (or and adult for that matter). When you aren't paying attention to just them, they tend to slow down and try to figure out why.
I noticed that with the first filly my mare gave me years ago. If I walked after her she'd just run away...for hours. Horse burgers sounded really good a number of times. I decided I had few options: 1) eat her, 2) sell her (if I could catch her), 3) make her run until she was so tired she thought she'd die (which is a common method amongst the wanna-be cowboys), or 4) use their natural curiosity to my favor.
With her halter in hand, a chair, and one of my favorite books I sat out in the middle of the pasture. Her mom would follow me around like a fly on stink, so I put her in the adjoining pasture. I sat, read, and waited. It took a little over an hour, but soon she (Scooter) became curious and slowly walked over to me, wanting to see what I was up to. As she got closer I'd start reading out loud, stop and look at her, pause, and go back to reading. Soon she couldn't stand it and came right in. I let her sniff a bit, then I'd wave my hands and scare her off...picking up my chair and moving to a different spot. It didn't take long before she was in my space again, wondering what I was doing. I repeated this for about four hours. By the time I was done she followed me around like I had carrots in my pocket. Not only was I teaching her that her curiosity was a good thing, but that she could trust me not to try to capture her.
My horses were one of the most influential things in my life. They comprise one set of the ideas scattering around in my melon. Others of influence in my past would be my parents, my children, and my three favorite books. These are the primary instruments that shaped my life. However, the most exciting part of life now is taking all the things in my past that made me...me...and finding a partner, wife, and best friend to take them to levels I had never considered existed. The ingredients are mixed and the cake is in the oven...and she is the one that makes sure it doesn't fall. There are many parts of my past journey that we cannot share together beyond those racing thoughts, such as my past with the horses. The shaping of my life continues, reflecting on what is most important in my life is what feeds the continuing evolution of my spirit. One chapter of this reflection my Lizzie and I do share has to do with the three most important books in my life, to find the atman within me:
I noticed that with the first filly my mare gave me years ago. If I walked after her she'd just run away...for hours. Horse burgers sounded really good a number of times. I decided I had few options: 1) eat her, 2) sell her (if I could catch her), 3) make her run until she was so tired she thought she'd die (which is a common method amongst the wanna-be cowboys), or 4) use their natural curiosity to my favor.
With her halter in hand, a chair, and one of my favorite books I sat out in the middle of the pasture. Her mom would follow me around like a fly on stink, so I put her in the adjoining pasture. I sat, read, and waited. It took a little over an hour, but soon she (Scooter) became curious and slowly walked over to me, wanting to see what I was up to. As she got closer I'd start reading out loud, stop and look at her, pause, and go back to reading. Soon she couldn't stand it and came right in. I let her sniff a bit, then I'd wave my hands and scare her off...picking up my chair and moving to a different spot. It didn't take long before she was in my space again, wondering what I was doing. I repeated this for about four hours. By the time I was done she followed me around like I had carrots in my pocket. Not only was I teaching her that her curiosity was a good thing, but that she could trust me not to try to capture her.
My horses were one of the most influential things in my life. They comprise one set of the ideas scattering around in my melon. Others of influence in my past would be my parents, my children, and my three favorite books. These are the primary instruments that shaped my life. However, the most exciting part of life now is taking all the things in my past that made me...me...and finding a partner, wife, and best friend to take them to levels I had never considered existed. The ingredients are mixed and the cake is in the oven...and she is the one that makes sure it doesn't fall. There are many parts of my past journey that we cannot share together beyond those racing thoughts, such as my past with the horses. The shaping of my life continues, reflecting on what is most important in my life is what feeds the continuing evolution of my spirit. One chapter of this reflection my Lizzie and I do share has to do with the three most important books in my life, to find the atman within me:
- The Little Prince, by Antoine de St. Xupery
- Walden, by Henry David Throeau, and
- Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
In Over My Head...Part 2
So, I now have a huge hole in the side of my house...hoping with all the hope I can muster within me that the corner post is solid in the foundation. Since the concrete saw will not return for a good week, I figured it would be best to at least go ahead with the other part of the weekend plan and begin constructing the deck. The subfloor of the house is a couple feet higher than the "dog run", so I had to elevate the deck and build steps down to the garden area.
At least now I was in my realm as a carpenter! This part seemed to flow as expected. It helped that I had the assistance of a friend. By the end of the weekend I had the deck finished. It seemed like the weekend would never arrive as the wind and a bit of rain beat against the plastic covered hole the next couple of days. But soon enough I had a larger hole cut and the door installed. In the end...it turned out magnificent.
Lizzie and I spend a lot of time out on this deck. We love relaxing, watching the sunset, and looking down on our vegetables, herbs, and flowers throughout the growing season. This was a tremendous task to approach by myself. There was no plan to follow, just the 'ol one-step-at-a-time approach and make the next step based on the previous results. We had no idea how we would close off the small area between the new door and the corner of the house. We decided to put glass blocks in the space...the blocks were exactly 8 inches square...and the space turned out to 8 1/8 inches! A perfect fit. Guess Lizzie and I are living right!
At least now I was in my realm as a carpenter! This part seemed to flow as expected. It helped that I had the assistance of a friend. By the end of the weekend I had the deck finished. It seemed like the weekend would never arrive as the wind and a bit of rain beat against the plastic covered hole the next couple of days. But soon enough I had a larger hole cut and the door installed. In the end...it turned out magnificent.
Lizzie and I spend a lot of time out on this deck. We love relaxing, watching the sunset, and looking down on our vegetables, herbs, and flowers throughout the growing season. This was a tremendous task to approach by myself. There was no plan to follow, just the 'ol one-step-at-a-time approach and make the next step based on the previous results. We had no idea how we would close off the small area between the new door and the corner of the house. We decided to put glass blocks in the space...the blocks were exactly 8 inches square...and the space turned out to 8 1/8 inches! A perfect fit. Guess Lizzie and I are living right!
Monday, January 24, 2011
In Over My Head...Part 1
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| Troll Stua |
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| Lower 40 |
Before you could say Jack-the-Bear, I was taking out a window and installing a sliding glass door...out onto a deck...overlooking the soon to be garden. Sounds simple enough until you throw into the equation the house was built in 1955, was a sold brick house with post and beam walls and no idea how the posts were set. So what does 'ol Digger do? How about we start with cutting a huge hole in the side of the house!
Being the holiday weekend, the brick cutter had gone on vacation, but said he could come out the next weekend and cut the hole bigger...for just about the same cost as the first hole! So out came the plastic. Now if I lived off of Hoo Shoo Too Road in Louisiana this would have been normal window dressing...but not in Holladay, Utah.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Save Your Money!
News report are telling us that savings are up. People are beginning to save their money again. This sounds good but...most of the people/families saving their cash are those that make greater than $70,000 a year. Those making less than $70,000 are not saving any money. Although payroll has not gone up the last two years, commodities have come down in price, giving us a sort of in facto raise. However, when inflation does start to occur, if those not saving do not have any extra cash, how will they be able to afford their needs?
It may sound disappointing, but it shouldn't be. The reason those families with household incomes less than $70K are not saving is not because they don't have any remaining discretionary income, but because they are spending any extra money they have on crap. They are the ones that over the last decade have built a mountain of debt they cannot now pay. Those that can save are not necessarily able to do so because they make so much money, but because they were not out getting in debt, living higher than their capabilities, or setting a standard of living they were not entitled to. I hate using the word entitled, but when you make your own money and it is not given to you through programs that encourage a lack of productivity, one is entitled to enjoy the fruits of their labor.
The people that are saving are not the ones that make a lot of money, but the ones that are not in debt!!!
~ Digger
It may sound disappointing, but it shouldn't be. The reason those families with household incomes less than $70K are not saving is not because they don't have any remaining discretionary income, but because they are spending any extra money they have on crap. They are the ones that over the last decade have built a mountain of debt they cannot now pay. Those that can save are not necessarily able to do so because they make so much money, but because they were not out getting in debt, living higher than their capabilities, or setting a standard of living they were not entitled to. I hate using the word entitled, but when you make your own money and it is not given to you through programs that encourage a lack of productivity, one is entitled to enjoy the fruits of their labor.
The people that are saving are not the ones that make a lot of money, but the ones that are not in debt!!!
~ Digger
Friday, January 21, 2011
Galaxy Quest
What if...
Our universe is almost 12 billion light years across. At the speed of light, pretty damn fast, it would take that long to cross it. Recently astronomers looked deep into the darkest part of the universe with new telescopic technology and found millions more galaxies...each with billions of stars. I forget how many trillion trillion trillion stars there are, but there are a bunch (I wonder if Obama is trying to match our national debt to the number of stars in the universe...hmmmm).
So, what if...after God (the father) created the universe, Jesus (the son) was growing up and running all around the universe (he is omnipresent you know). One day the Father looks up and sees Jesus is making entire galaxies run into each other. Taking them apart like an eight year old boy and his new bike the day after Christmas. The Father begins to get frustrated because he has plans for all this and Jesus is messing with it. So to placate Jesus he gives him Earth, and tells him to mess with Earth and leave the rest of the universe alone. Jesus would have probably responded with, "Gee Dad, you never let me have any fun", as he pulls out his huge magnifying glass (causing global warming) and starts burning the Earth like a boy at an ant hill. But the father tells him "NO Son"...they have really screwed things up down there, so you need to try and fix it. Next response, "I always get the crappy jobs, it's not fair." So he begins to wonder how to start.
He immediately sees that the Earth creatures don't take accountability for their own actions and are blaming everything on something they call "the devil." Just because they make really poor choices and nature doesn't comfort them 24/365 they pile all their lack of responsibility onto this creep guy that lives someplace with lots of fire we can't see, but we can use to guilt and scare our kids into doing what want.
We really don't appreciate our parents until we become parents, or at least adults, ourselves. The father may have had a son tearing about the universe, but now Jesus has to watch us tearing apart our own planet, families, live styles, and global economy...leaving a huge mess for our grandchildren. Stop whining and complaining, quirt blaming the devil for everything difficult in your life, refrain from waiting for God to fix it, get off our asses, be responsible, and take care of it ourselves. Wow...what a concept.
~ Digger
Our universe is almost 12 billion light years across. At the speed of light, pretty damn fast, it would take that long to cross it. Recently astronomers looked deep into the darkest part of the universe with new telescopic technology and found millions more galaxies...each with billions of stars. I forget how many trillion trillion trillion stars there are, but there are a bunch (I wonder if Obama is trying to match our national debt to the number of stars in the universe...hmmmm).
So, what if...after God (the father) created the universe, Jesus (the son) was growing up and running all around the universe (he is omnipresent you know). One day the Father looks up and sees Jesus is making entire galaxies run into each other. Taking them apart like an eight year old boy and his new bike the day after Christmas. The Father begins to get frustrated because he has plans for all this and Jesus is messing with it. So to placate Jesus he gives him Earth, and tells him to mess with Earth and leave the rest of the universe alone. Jesus would have probably responded with, "Gee Dad, you never let me have any fun", as he pulls out his huge magnifying glass (causing global warming) and starts burning the Earth like a boy at an ant hill. But the father tells him "NO Son"...they have really screwed things up down there, so you need to try and fix it. Next response, "I always get the crappy jobs, it's not fair." So he begins to wonder how to start.
He immediately sees that the Earth creatures don't take accountability for their own actions and are blaming everything on something they call "the devil." Just because they make really poor choices and nature doesn't comfort them 24/365 they pile all their lack of responsibility onto this creep guy that lives someplace with lots of fire we can't see, but we can use to guilt and scare our kids into doing what want.
We really don't appreciate our parents until we become parents, or at least adults, ourselves. The father may have had a son tearing about the universe, but now Jesus has to watch us tearing apart our own planet, families, live styles, and global economy...leaving a huge mess for our grandchildren. Stop whining and complaining, quirt blaming the devil for everything difficult in your life, refrain from waiting for God to fix it, get off our asses, be responsible, and take care of it ourselves. Wow...what a concept.
~ Digger
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I Don't Care...
I'm one of the worst at the concept of time. I'd like to blame it on my age, but I've been teased about it since I was 18. The grand-poopa of my memory lapses are: "The other day...", only to be reminded it was many months ago; or "Remember last year..." when whatever event I think is important enough to recall actually took place within the last couple of months...or even days! This is probably fairly common with anyone older than four. The memory of the event is much stronger in our mind than the timing of the event. Which leads me to those annoying people that have the selective memory of saying "I used to..."
"I used to bench..."
"I used to have time to..."
"I used to cook..."
"I used to weigh..."
"I used to be able to..."
Well...I don't care what you USED to...
If you can't do it or just don't do it...then hush...I'd rather not hear about it. What I would be interested in is what you can do now. Seems peoples memories can get selective on the things they "used" to do. When those things come up it is usually in an effort to praise themselves or because they just like to hear themselves talk; or perhaps they are a bit distraught because they no longer have the discipline for it now, and feel a need to try to impress others with their past. In fact...isn't saying "I used to" actually admitting that they have gone backward in life, become less efficient, gotten lazier, life has become less important? Perhaps not in all cases, but as I reflect on when I've heard it said...or the times when I know I have said it...it rings true.
Tell me what you CAN do. Tell me what you are GOING to do. Tell me where you are adjusting your life for the better. Impress me with your discipline, even when time and the struggles of life fight against you. If you want to tell me what you USED to...then it needs to be followed up with why you can't now, what you replaced it with, and/or most importantly, why I should care. Is there a positive lesson in it; or did you just get lazy, busy, fat, or just distracted? And what are you doing to change or replace it? I'd love to hear the "I used to..." followed up by something greater.
I used to work out three times a week...but now I work out five times.
I used to bench 200 pounds...but now run 5 miles a day.
I used to weight 165 pounds...put I got busy and put on weight. I'll be back to 165 in less than a year.
I used to crochet...but with my arthritis I had to take up painting.
As for me...I "used' to have more patience with people...but I'm getting older and have less time for others lack of discipline; especially when bragging about the past when the present is in disarray.
~ Digger
"I used to bench..."
"I used to have time to..."
"I used to cook..."
"I used to weigh..."
"I used to be able to..."
Well...I don't care what you USED to...
If you can't do it or just don't do it...then hush...I'd rather not hear about it. What I would be interested in is what you can do now. Seems peoples memories can get selective on the things they "used" to do. When those things come up it is usually in an effort to praise themselves or because they just like to hear themselves talk; or perhaps they are a bit distraught because they no longer have the discipline for it now, and feel a need to try to impress others with their past. In fact...isn't saying "I used to" actually admitting that they have gone backward in life, become less efficient, gotten lazier, life has become less important? Perhaps not in all cases, but as I reflect on when I've heard it said...or the times when I know I have said it...it rings true.
Tell me what you CAN do. Tell me what you are GOING to do. Tell me where you are adjusting your life for the better. Impress me with your discipline, even when time and the struggles of life fight against you. If you want to tell me what you USED to...then it needs to be followed up with why you can't now, what you replaced it with, and/or most importantly, why I should care. Is there a positive lesson in it; or did you just get lazy, busy, fat, or just distracted? And what are you doing to change or replace it? I'd love to hear the "I used to..." followed up by something greater.
I used to work out three times a week...but now I work out five times.
I used to bench 200 pounds...but now run 5 miles a day.
I used to weight 165 pounds...put I got busy and put on weight. I'll be back to 165 in less than a year.
I used to crochet...but with my arthritis I had to take up painting.
As for me...I "used' to have more patience with people...but I'm getting older and have less time for others lack of discipline; especially when bragging about the past when the present is in disarray.
~ Digger
Monday, January 17, 2011
Winter
~ Digger
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Direction
I rarely head into the wilderness without my GPS unit. Depending on the length of my journey, the technology requires that I also carry extra batteries. My ability to return home to my wife in a timely manner requires that I subscribe to the ever present power of the Energizer Bunny. More times than I'd like to admit the screen has gone blank, only to find me reaching into my day pack to grab a set of replacement power. Digger, why would you not want to admit that? Perhaps it is because the set that I so proudly pull out are occasionally the same set I put in the pack LAST time the unit went blank and forgot to replace them with fresh batteries.
I was recently re-reading Walking, by H.D. Thoreau; it had been years since I had blown the dust off that book. I've been a Thoreau fan since high school; just one within the plethora of others that cut their teeth in a desire to embrace simplicity. I found I had forgotten the quote that began to shape my life for the next 40 years. Over time it morphed into "flying by the seat of my britches." <----This phrase became the manifestation, separated from its' initial cause. I began my separation, or forced individuality, from my abode of my youth with a specific direction in my mind. It was like looking at a map and measuring the distance between two points ("as the crow flies") and believing that is the true distance between them. Come to find out, I didn't know how to fly; so getting between any two points wasn't as direct as I thought it would be. I should have recalled the quote at that time. It would have made the next 40 years much easier to chart. The quote...as simple as only my friend Henry could have made it..."My needle is slow to settle...but it always settles...".
Anyone that has used a compass has noticed how the needle respond to the earths magnetic field. It takes time for it to calm, line up with the power of the field, and point in one ultimate direction. The needle will always settle given time, buy it is the degree of measure off this true direction that sends us on our path. But FIRST we must have a true direction. If we fail to let the needle settle our course could be way off over the course of our journey. A needle that fails to settle means there is some interference. It is important, if not necessary, to find out what the source of this interference might be, then establish direction. To not rid ourselves of the interference could cost us our journey. On the other hand...there is nothing in error with traveling in a general direction, without waiting for the settle. But there will come a time, or several times, when a more exact path will be needed and the settling of the needle is a necessity. I think that is one of the hardest lessons to learn. In my youth there were times when my impatience did not wait for the needle to settle, in my older age waiting wasted valuable time when I should have been moving forward. Not to mention the times I just had a "gut" feeling on my direction and did not want to pull the compass out. That compass can be different for every individual, maybe even different for each circumstance in our lives. What ever the compass is, the important part is to at least stop long enough to consult the compass.
What did this have to do with a GPS from the first paragraph? There is nothing wrong with having the tools to direct us along the best or shortest route, or to be able to backtrack our path if it becomes impassible. But a GPS unit triangulates our position from satellites hundreds of miles above us, focusing to a benign apex on the ground that is us. I think there are times when it might have been better to take the time to triangulate myself using the landmarks around me...and identify my position in life first. Then use the natural field, energy, or atman inside me to patiently let the needle of my life settle and chart my course a little at a time; taking the time to plot my position along the way from my level as often as I see necessary.
I was recently re-reading Walking, by H.D. Thoreau; it had been years since I had blown the dust off that book. I've been a Thoreau fan since high school; just one within the plethora of others that cut their teeth in a desire to embrace simplicity. I found I had forgotten the quote that began to shape my life for the next 40 years. Over time it morphed into "flying by the seat of my britches." <----This phrase became the manifestation, separated from its' initial cause. I began my separation, or forced individuality, from my abode of my youth with a specific direction in my mind. It was like looking at a map and measuring the distance between two points ("as the crow flies") and believing that is the true distance between them. Come to find out, I didn't know how to fly; so getting between any two points wasn't as direct as I thought it would be. I should have recalled the quote at that time. It would have made the next 40 years much easier to chart. The quote...as simple as only my friend Henry could have made it..."My needle is slow to settle...but it always settles...".
Anyone that has used a compass has noticed how the needle respond to the earths magnetic field. It takes time for it to calm, line up with the power of the field, and point in one ultimate direction. The needle will always settle given time, buy it is the degree of measure off this true direction that sends us on our path. But FIRST we must have a true direction. If we fail to let the needle settle our course could be way off over the course of our journey. A needle that fails to settle means there is some interference. It is important, if not necessary, to find out what the source of this interference might be, then establish direction. To not rid ourselves of the interference could cost us our journey. On the other hand...there is nothing in error with traveling in a general direction, without waiting for the settle. But there will come a time, or several times, when a more exact path will be needed and the settling of the needle is a necessity. I think that is one of the hardest lessons to learn. In my youth there were times when my impatience did not wait for the needle to settle, in my older age waiting wasted valuable time when I should have been moving forward. Not to mention the times I just had a "gut" feeling on my direction and did not want to pull the compass out. That compass can be different for every individual, maybe even different for each circumstance in our lives. What ever the compass is, the important part is to at least stop long enough to consult the compass.
What did this have to do with a GPS from the first paragraph? There is nothing wrong with having the tools to direct us along the best or shortest route, or to be able to backtrack our path if it becomes impassible. But a GPS unit triangulates our position from satellites hundreds of miles above us, focusing to a benign apex on the ground that is us. I think there are times when it might have been better to take the time to triangulate myself using the landmarks around me...and identify my position in life first. Then use the natural field, energy, or atman inside me to patiently let the needle of my life settle and chart my course a little at a time; taking the time to plot my position along the way from my level as often as I see necessary.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Scratch Therapy
I am 55 years old and have never had a professional massage. I'm not quite sure how one classifies "professional" when it comes to rubbing warm oil all over someones body...but, if that is all it takes my wife is a professional! =) I'm sure when the paid oil-rubbers do their thing they have literally had "months" of training...
I'm not dissing on trained massage therapist's...I've known MANY people that pay mightily for the opportunity to be man-handled (not to be sexist here). Perhaps because I've never paid for a massage I have no idea what I may be missing. But since I've never been sore enough to pull out my wallet and actually pay to let a strange person (male or female) get that up-close and personal, I have the tendency to wonder why all the "ooooo's" and "aaaaa's" are discussed when the subject comes up. If I'm forkin' out 85 bucks to give someone a good story to tell at their next cocktail party about the guy with the pimple on his butt, then there better be a good stock tip along with it.
BUTT...I mean BUT...I"ll tell you what me and 95% of the male population would pay for though...a Scratch Therapist. Whether it be a slow caress with some kind of Buddah music sliding down the bamboo curtain, all the way to elbows and knees digging into my back with the Rocky theme ricocheting off the walls...NOTHING feels better than having your back scratched. Now my wife is probably the best back-scratcher this side of Jupiter, and if there is anything between Jupiter and the Sun that is therapeutic...it is her nails.
My point to all this (yes I have a point, at least I think I have a point) is that there are as many ways to scratch as there are to rub. Stimulating the nerves within the largest organ of the body (our skin...I took biology) seems to make more sense to me than trying to get to and manipulate those damn unseen knots through this stretched-out layer of epidermis. There are plenty of modal nerves in those slabs of meat...but no sensory nerves. My wife seems to intrinsically know what kind of contact is required to bring relaxation, peace, confidence, encouragement...or to get me frisky. It is like a symphony...a blended mixture of instruments, and sequences of rhythmic 2/2, 3/4, and 4/4 time. Try to incorporate that into a massage. I am sure that a professional massage allows one to return a bit more relaxed and mobile, but a good scratch session...aaaawwww, the combination of mellowing and mental stimulation.
In the end...I'm just curious why there are no books on the benefits of being scratched...physical, psychological, and sensory. Perhaps it would be best if my wife and I wrote the first book. Not as an exhaustive technical treatise, but just because we know what works. I think I'll discuss this more over time.
~ Digger
I'm not dissing on trained massage therapist's...I've known MANY people that pay mightily for the opportunity to be man-handled (not to be sexist here). Perhaps because I've never paid for a massage I have no idea what I may be missing. But since I've never been sore enough to pull out my wallet and actually pay to let a strange person (male or female) get that up-close and personal, I have the tendency to wonder why all the "ooooo's" and "aaaaa's" are discussed when the subject comes up. If I'm forkin' out 85 bucks to give someone a good story to tell at their next cocktail party about the guy with the pimple on his butt, then there better be a good stock tip along with it.
BUTT...I mean BUT...I"ll tell you what me and 95% of the male population would pay for though...a Scratch Therapist. Whether it be a slow caress with some kind of Buddah music sliding down the bamboo curtain, all the way to elbows and knees digging into my back with the Rocky theme ricocheting off the walls...NOTHING feels better than having your back scratched. Now my wife is probably the best back-scratcher this side of Jupiter, and if there is anything between Jupiter and the Sun that is therapeutic...it is her nails.
My point to all this (yes I have a point, at least I think I have a point) is that there are as many ways to scratch as there are to rub. Stimulating the nerves within the largest organ of the body (our skin...I took biology) seems to make more sense to me than trying to get to and manipulate those damn unseen knots through this stretched-out layer of epidermis. There are plenty of modal nerves in those slabs of meat...but no sensory nerves. My wife seems to intrinsically know what kind of contact is required to bring relaxation, peace, confidence, encouragement...or to get me frisky. It is like a symphony...a blended mixture of instruments, and sequences of rhythmic 2/2, 3/4, and 4/4 time. Try to incorporate that into a massage. I am sure that a professional massage allows one to return a bit more relaxed and mobile, but a good scratch session...aaaawwww, the combination of mellowing and mental stimulation.
In the end...I'm just curious why there are no books on the benefits of being scratched...physical, psychological, and sensory. Perhaps it would be best if my wife and I wrote the first book. Not as an exhaustive technical treatise, but just because we know what works. I think I'll discuss this more over time.
~ Digger
Friday, January 7, 2011
PDA
Out and about, taking care of our daily business. Pausing to check our watch for the time, waiting for a passing car, answering our phone (which we should have left at home); we notice a couple engaged in what is called a public display of affection, aka., PDA. Poll a group of people and you'll get a variety of responses. Some of the most common include: "Aaahhhhh", "Yuk", "Get a room", "How come you never do that to me?"
How people define "public" when it come to PDA varies also. Now I admit, I don't really care to see spit trails between two people smaking on a park bench, or hear moans that only make me want to run home and shag my wife; but there are types of PDA that tell the world how you feel about your partner. One of my favorites was a commercial where a man and woman are standing on some steps in front of a large court house type building. All of a sudden he yells at the top of his lungs, "I LOVE MY WIFE!!!" She looks all around as the pigeons in the area scatter. She is unaware how to respond. Then she embraces him and whispers softly in his ear, "I love my husband." All of us handle PDA in different ways.
What got me thinking about this was a post my son made on his wife's Facebook wall. He simple said "I love you." Almost immediately, a couple of his friends began giving him a hard time, using a "playful" slur. I was proud of my son.
When we think of being in public we usually think of being outside at a park, in line at a store, in a stadium at a ball game, etc. But that "public" has nothing on Facebook or any social media. In our general definition of "public" there would only be a few people that would see our PDA, chances are they are unknown observers, never to lay eyes on us again. However, what can me more "public" than Facebook?! Where else can one express PDA, not in front of a few strangers we will never encounter again, but in front of those that we claim as our "friends." Expressions where the spit trails aren't seen, the goo-goo eyes are hidden, the groping hands are reserved for a later time; yet the one we adore still feels all the emotion. PDA of the heart.
I also enjoyed reading one of my daughters having a short and similar exchange with her hubby on their Facebook walls...again, I was proud. I hope that more and more couples will use Social Media outlets like Facebook to not only reach out for more "friends", but as a way to express to those "friends" how enriched their life is because of their relationship and attact/encourage "friends" to show some PDA today.
~ Digger
How people define "public" when it come to PDA varies also. Now I admit, I don't really care to see spit trails between two people smaking on a park bench, or hear moans that only make me want to run home and shag my wife; but there are types of PDA that tell the world how you feel about your partner. One of my favorites was a commercial where a man and woman are standing on some steps in front of a large court house type building. All of a sudden he yells at the top of his lungs, "I LOVE MY WIFE!!!" She looks all around as the pigeons in the area scatter. She is unaware how to respond. Then she embraces him and whispers softly in his ear, "I love my husband." All of us handle PDA in different ways.
What got me thinking about this was a post my son made on his wife's Facebook wall. He simple said "I love you." Almost immediately, a couple of his friends began giving him a hard time, using a "playful" slur. I was proud of my son.
When we think of being in public we usually think of being outside at a park, in line at a store, in a stadium at a ball game, etc. But that "public" has nothing on Facebook or any social media. In our general definition of "public" there would only be a few people that would see our PDA, chances are they are unknown observers, never to lay eyes on us again. However, what can me more "public" than Facebook?! Where else can one express PDA, not in front of a few strangers we will never encounter again, but in front of those that we claim as our "friends." Expressions where the spit trails aren't seen, the goo-goo eyes are hidden, the groping hands are reserved for a later time; yet the one we adore still feels all the emotion. PDA of the heart.
I also enjoyed reading one of my daughters having a short and similar exchange with her hubby on their Facebook walls...again, I was proud. I hope that more and more couples will use Social Media outlets like Facebook to not only reach out for more "friends", but as a way to express to those "friends" how enriched their life is because of their relationship and attact/encourage "friends" to show some PDA today.
~ Digger
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