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Normally, if we tell someone that we hear voices speaking inside of us, friends start looking in the telephone book for the address of the funny farm.
I used to have a friend who told me that God was going to use him to do all kind of things. I was a little wary of him.
The Blues Brothers thought they had hear God’s voice, too. “We’re on a mission from God,” they proclaimed.
“Hearing voices can be a very disturbing experience, both for the person who hears voices and family and friends,” according to the Mental Health Foundation (http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/)
I guess so.
You know what, though? I think we all have a voice that speaks in the depths of our soul. It’s not like, “Hello up there. I’m the evil genie who lives in your liver.” Actually this voice is usually ours. Sometimes it says things like,
“I’m angry, angry, angry.” Continue reading
When I was a kid, I was a champion goof-off. (Still am, sometimes, for things I don’t want to do).
Daddy’s garden stood as the summit of things that the little boy that I was tried to stay far away from. If he wanted a garden, that was okay, but why drag me into it? My parents and grandparents abused me. They MADE me work in that garden.
“You’ll want to eat those vegetables when it all grows up, so you’ve got to work now.” Hah! Onions! Green beans! Tomatoes! Who would want to eat stuff like that? Now if gardens grew Snickers candy bars …
All the same, when people are bigger than you are, you do what you’re told, though you don’t have to like it and you don’t have to do it whole-heartedly. So you’d find me scowling under the hot sun, pulling on stubborn weeds and wishing with all my heart for a baseball game. That was something worth exerting all your energy for.
But tomatoes? Get serious! Only an adult could dream that a tomato would be worth working for. Continue reading
A recent newspaper headline caught my attention: “The Rolling Stones Confirm Four concerts in 2013.”
The headline was accompanied by a picture that made me wonder if there had been a break-out at the local nursing home. The Rolling Stones look as if they should be hobbling more than rolling these days.
(Though, I saw them on the television later, and they still boogie pretty good–for grandpas anyway).
Remembering what they were in their prime and seeing them now, we can’t help but wonder, “What does it all mean?” or something existential like that.
Things don’t stay the same down here do they? We try to reproduce what was but we can’t.
Mick Jagger looks more like Mervin Stagger now. Continue reading
A “Martian” Helps Us Know If We’re Telling the Truth Or Blowing Smoke
Watch out! I’m sending my little Martian buddy to spy on you. If you see this two foot tall green fellow with three antennas and purple eyes looking at you through his spy glass, don’t get nervous. That’s him.
He’s usually harmless.
Now, he’s trying to figure out what you’re living your life about. He’ll be recording it all on his z-pad (they don’t have i-pads on Mars).
He’ll note how you spend the majority of your time—working, playing, goofing off, or trying to persuade big fish to surrender to you. He’ll use his x-ray vision to look at your bank account and see how you spend your money. (“Wal Mart? Wal Mart? Wal Mart? What’s this Wal-Mart thing?”) Continue reading