Tag Archives: philosophy

That I Am

For years, I asked the question, “Who am I?” For years, I got arbitrary, dissatisfying answers. Where do they come from, these answers? They come from a mind that thinks who has meaning, as if who were real.

Who gets caught in the illusion of a name, as if “David” were something attached to me like an arm or a leg. But it isn’t. It’s just a puff of air, or a word in print. “Oh, you look like a David,” someone says. What if the people I thought were my parents had looked at me and said, “Radish?”

I am not David. Continue reading

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Frayed Edges—Life in the Meat Sack

Of late, as my meat sack becomes frayed around the edges from a lifetime of living life to he fullest, my thoughts dwell on the question of what’s next. I reviewed my spiritual-belief journey and realized how much it has changed over the nearly seven decades I have trudged around in the dense overcoat guided only by the Jell-O salad in my head and a vague sense of there being something so awesomely better that it defies verbal explanation. […]

As my life has reached the status of the Hermit Tarot Card in one of it’s interpretations—Is that all there is? Where to now?—I think about the paradox of life and death. My body wants to keep going, my other consciousness thinks that letting go of the struggle to keep repairing an aging machine with worn out parts would be a good thing. So, what’s a human to do? I have long let go of believing that beliefs are true and adopted them as coping tools that can be discarded or upgraded as needed… Continue reading

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How I learned to Trick my Brain and Believe

We may think that we think what we think. But what we don’t know is that we are what we think. And what we think is not what we think we are thinking. My life has been so busy lately, … Continue reading

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Spam, Spam, Spam BUT WHY???

Now, I live in a clean, middle class neighborhood with lawns, gardeners, SUVs, stucco houses with tiled roofs, and kids in soccer teams. Still, on the corner was a guy running a meth lab in his house. You never know what lies behind that freshly painted white door with the brass handle. Cue spooky laugh. But, back to sales people. Either on the phone or at my door, I am abrupt and quick. “No thank you. I’m not interested,” or more recently, “I’m not going to buy anything, and I’m not a Christian.” Close door. Continue reading

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