One of my
favorite authors,
John Bradshaw, is a brilliant and inspiring guy who addresses the human condition and provides insight into what ails us. Here's a passage that I have been thinking about:
" We are taught to be nice and polite. We are taught that these behaviors (most often lies) are better than telling the truth. Our churches, schools and politics are rampant with teaching dishonesty (saying things we don't mean and pretending to feel ways we don't feel). Smile when we feel sad, laugh nervously when dealing with grief, laugh at jokes we don't think are funny, tell people things to be polite that we surely don't mean." This was from the titled Bradshaw On: The Family.
I must say I have worked hard for congruency between my inner and outward self. That means I have been accused of being mean.... a price one pays for clarity of mind and soul.
Grab some of his books... they will knock you off your socks.
Grasshopper really likes these.
See what no eye can see, go where no foot can go, choose that which is no choice–then you may hear what makes no sound–God’s voice.
Not my card, but something I am willing to try when time permits.
RC, the horse I rode a few days ago at Ponderosa Stables. The family went on an hour's worth of horseback riding.
It was a beautiful day, in a beautiful place.
Self portrait.
Bo, the horse who liked to eat. I understood the meaning of bowlegged cowboy syndrome after about 40 minutes into the ride. I was hurting.
A New Year's Eve tradition in our family is a stop at the local Thai place for a bowl full of that coconut soup. Yes, it has a name, but I can't remember it. Ummhhh. it is good.
Santa flies an airplane.
The Mormon Temple.
Chandler Boulevard, Phoenix.
A neighborhood house.
Milk and cookie for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph.
A gift from work mates.
A fire in the backyard.
The fireplace.
