2014-06-12 Thursday

June 12^th is special day for me: both of my sons were born on June 12^th four years apart. I remember each of their births as if it was just yesterday. They have both grown to be good men of whom I am very proud. Unfortunately, as most of you know, neither has any use for their dad.

What makes today even more special is that it is also the birthday of my grandfather, Nicholas Lawrence Temple, know to the readers of Nick's Bytes as TNT.

A Facebook post by my friend Pat in Sicily reminded me of why I am again writing this blog. It was a very nasty troll attack that almost drove me completely from Facebook. It began by the troll responding to my Facebook post lesson Pres. Obama during his trip to Afghanistan on Veterans Day by saying he wished that the President would be murdered in Afghanistan. That upset me to no end!

The troll then continued his attack on me personally with flame after flame. In case you are not aware of the definition of flamer in the context of the Internet—which neither the troll or his wife were—the Urban Dictionary gives this definition:

A person who constantly starts fights on forums or message boards, usually with many vulgar statements and outright lies attacking one individual or group.  

This flaming troll distracted me the point that I began defending myself against the flames which is neither my intent in writing on Facebook are my blogs. Even though I blocked the troll and his troll-wife from my Facebook account, he flamed again by accessing my pages via a mutual friend’s Facebook account. That was when I began considering deleting my Facebook membership.

Instead, I began to again write this journal blog. I am rather glad that I did. As a friend commented on this blog, blogging gives one the ability of writing much more depth and detail than either Facebook or Twitter. I just wish that I could follow the advice I gave Pat today via this graphic that I created shortly after the troll attacks. 

However, I can't. Being hated causes me an abnormal amount of spiritual pain.

 Tomorrow may also be a special day for some:

I, for one, do not believe that Friday the 13^th conveys bad luck.Cultural histories  confirm the neutral qualities of the day. On the other hand, I do see a potential for tomorrow being transmitter of good things.

For the past several weeks I have been reading—studying—the book Fire in the Head: Shamanism and the Celtic Spirit. For anyone interested in the ways of shamans and/or Celtic history, culture, myths, and spirituality,  this is a marvelous book that I highly recommend.

For the ancient Celts, it was not the combination of Friday, Thirteen, and Full Moon that would make the day special. It was that the light of the full moon was said to make fairies more active in lives and affairs of humans, often bringing good fortune.

With the arrival of Christianity, the fairies, who were seen as neither viewed as good or bad by the Celts became all bad. Thus, the beginning of the superstitions about the full moon and Friday the 13^th (Jesus was crucified on Friday; 13 people attended the Last Supper in the Upper Room).

I have one final item to share: the delightful and potent prayer that I received from a friend in this morning's email:

~ Healing Prayer ~

Take my higher self

and every aspect of my being

To the very first incident

that caused these issues to start.

Let go of all of them

Hold the space open for

me to fill with all good.

I ask my spirit to dissipate all negative thoughts

and behaviors quickly without

and within, no residue

or echoes left behind.

I am filled with love

and gratitude

I am surrounded and loved

and protected in every way.

Please help us:

we are in great need this month

Day Seventy-four

This is the controller to my lift chair. One can't tell because of the flash from my camera, but the two arrows on it are blue lights. They indicate that the chair has power. It works OK!

Last night, in my continued search for why the chair did not have power, I found that the cord of the controller had become unplugged from its connection to the chair. Because I can't kneel on my knees it took me twenty or so minutes to reattach the cord; as soon as I did those blue lights flashed on and I celebrated.

Today is the 45th anniversary of the execution of Che Guevera. When I was an undergrad at the University of Kentucky in the 1960s, lots of folks wore shirts with Che's picture on them and had Che posters in their rooms. I didn't: I was too far toward the right-wing to wear a picture of a Communist.

However, while studying liberation theology at Eden Theological Seminary in the 1980s, Che became one of my heroes. So, today I celebrate his life and mourn his murder.

Little Girl and Sugar Sunbathing 

It's in the low 50s F outside, but the kitty kids are enjoying the warmth of the sun coming through the windows. Alex is further down, stretched out between the blinds and the window.

Alex now seems to rule the kitty trio, primarily by doing what he wants (including eating from Little's Girl's bowl) and ignoring the kitten. This morning I had Alex on the desk in front of me, Little Girl on the desk to my left, and Sugar to my right on top of the printer. All three were eating kitty treats. 

Day Fifty-eight

I awakened feeling sad this morning. Nothing is wrong; I simply feel sad. It isn't a bad feeling. It's simply a feeling that will pass. 

As I meditated I found that my mind kept drifting toward the past... people, animals, places that were once in my life but aren't now. It's sort of like saying "good-bye," although I understand that doing that requires much more than one morning of sadness.

There is something that Joseph Campbell wrote or said about saying good-bye as one ages that is on the edge of my conscious mind. I must look it up soon.

My melancholia  is past. Meditation, reflection, and my normal morning spiritual discipline brought me new feelings. I must, however, locate the words of Joseph Campbell that are just beyond my conscious recollection.

When I opened the front door a few minutes ago to bring in the Sunday newspaper, Alex bolted through it. That's really good: the little fellow hasn't asked to go outside in over a week. He just stayed on his table, in the bathtub, or on the washing machine, sleeping. I was beginning to worry about my buddy.

 He's OK outside. Alex does 3 things when he is out: 

(1) grazes grass; 

(2) investigates the patio of my neighbor who has a dog; 

(3) and reclines in the sunlight on our patio. 

When Alex is ready to come in, he'll scratch at the patio door and, if I don't hear him, Sugar will let me know that Alex wants in.

I've become too tired to continue the chores that need to be done here. When one weights almost a fifth of a ton—I used to weigh over a fifth of a ton—one can become easily fatigued. That's what has happened now; and I still have loads of housework to do before the prospective housekeeper meets with me tomorrow afternoon. [SIGH]