Alanis has often hit the hammer on the nail for me...
Good release.



You know what sucks?
It sucks when you feel you're offering your best and it just doesn't match what others expect or say they need.  Best energy, communication, time, choices, still result in a resounding "not enough".  I think it's probably a temporary feeling between shame and realizing your still breathing and it's the best you have to offer.  It's a two way street of suckiness!  Either way for a bit IT Sucks.

I like win-win sooooo much better.

Blessings, David

I been practicing being a man of few words ---  like this guy.

Reading back on Steve Pavlina and his blog tonight.  I like this How To Be a Man post and so am blogging it forward.  Reminds of much of the Toltec wisdom I aspire to.
Then a challenge for someone to write How To Be a Woman shared here.

Good stuff.  I like the news lately...  hero pilots, responders and ordinary people making the change.  I'm feeling more inspired than I have for a while.

Plus the days are getting longer.

Sent this to my elected official today -- actually this one is prettier 'cause ZNG allows linking:

Dear Amy - please relay to the members of the Senate Ethics Committee that I am looking for info regarding the status of possible investigation of Norm Coleman regarding this.
Is Norm under investigation or not?  What's the status?
Isn't this info important given the current recount in MN:  either for Norm or against him?

Despite stating "The Select Committee on Ethics website was designed to provide access to Committee Members,"  I was finally directed to go through my state officials.  The above quote is right there at the top of this link.

Thankfully your both not under investigation or what would a poor citizen do?

Obviously I'm not sending this email note to Norm Coleman!

Sincerely, David Hale

This little blurb was sent from my Aunt & Uncle.  They said it was a part of a recent sermon and thought I should have it.

Passing it on...

An ancient rabbi once asked his pupils how they could tell when the  
night had ended and the day was on its way back. Could it be, asked  
one student, when you can see an animal in the distance and tell  
whether it is a sheep or a dog?
No, answered the Rabbi.
Could it be, inquired another, when you can look at a tree in the  
distance and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?
No, the Rabbi replied.
Well, then, what is it? his pupils demanded.
The wise old teacher responded with words of immense wisdom: It is  
when you look on the face of any woman or man and see that she or he  
is your sister or brother. Because if you cannot do this, then no  
matter what time it is, it is still night.

From here.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer consider the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

A friend said check out Brett Dennen. (Shout out Michelle)  SO I did and from the first moment I recognized this song as being on the recent Cities Sampler and bringing me too tears more than once.  Synchronicity abounds...

How is he - or is he - attached to switchfoot?