Dave's Blog

Thu Sep 22 17:06:19 PDT 2005

All things in the Universe conspire to act for my greatest good.  
As the end of my contract approached, I stuck my head above the 
bushes and checked out the market.  It appears that the market is 
moving sluggishly, and I would be best served to stay where I am.  
It looks like my client finds me valuable, and my client 
continues to make sure that other companies do not draw me away.  

During my exploration I discovered that the opportunities that 
interested me the most were not technical, but rather 
organizational.  Interdepartmental communication, suboptimization, 
overspecialization, and lack of vision were the problems that 
drew me to find a solution.  The facade of technical problems 
like standards, interoperability, maintainability and uptime, 
were just a mask for the real problems.  I now realize that I 
don't have to move to another company to change my personal mask.  
I can become more involved and help iron out the wrinkles right 
where I am.  Oh!  Life has become more interesting!  


Thu Sep 22 17:02:41 PDT 2005

Fall has come, right on schedule.  In spite of the weather in 
other parts of the country, in spite of the direction of the 
market indexes, in spite of the current condition of foreign 
military exploits, Fall has arrived as planned.  How reassuring 
it is that the Universe does not follow a human agenda, does not 
postpone or reschedule the first day of Fall.  There is a power 
bigger than our conditioned minds, and it works for the good of 
all things.  

 
Thu Sep 22 23:57:25 GMT 2005

Emerson wrote his thoughts down one at a time, as they arrived.  
Thoughts not recorded drift out of consciousness, to be 
rediscovered at a later time.  The last several times I have 
tried to record some thoughts I had the feeling that I was trying 
to achieve a monumental task.  Each essay grew until I lost 
interest in the project.  Now I realize even a few of those 
thoughts could be recorded, and then developed later should more 
thoughts on the same subjects appear.  

 
Thu Sep 22 23:46:14 GMT 2005

I attended a neighborhood association meeting last week.  In it 
the police captain and the district supervisor were asked about 
a recent, or ongoing, crime wave.  Overall, crime was down.  But 
murder was up.  The police captain noted that the murders seemed 
to be directed at specific people.  I suppose that means it's a 
gang war.  The district supervisor said he visited the crime 
scenes while they were hot, and tried to understand what was 
going on.  The supervisor also said more needed to be done in 
terms of prevention, and observed that the three schools in the 
district did not have parent-teacher associations.  He also 
commented on how frustrating it was to visit the churches and to 
see apparent indifference to the situation.  One thing that I 
noticed about the neighborhood association was that all the 
attendees appeared to be white and middle-class.  Another thing 
I noticed was that most of their concerns were about events 
outside the neighborhood, as they have defined it.  I recognize 
that the neighborhood association doesn't accurately reflect the 
neighborhood population as a whole, but I can look at the 
association itself and decide whether it will support me, 
personally.  


Thu Sep 22 19:05:58 GMT 2005

Simba:  "Why did you hit me?"

Rafiki:  "It's in the past, it doesn't matter."  

It struck me this month that the past does not exist.  There is 
nothing that I can touch, see, hear, taste or smell, that I can 
point out and say, "This is the past."  

In the same way that ideas are things, and that ideas are real, 
the past is real.  The past is actually an idea.  All that I 
know about the past is a record in my synapses.  It has the 
same status as my dreams, as my fantasies, and as stories that I 
just make up.  So I can stop telling the story of my past if it 
doesn't serve me.  I can make up anything I want, within social 
limits.  My resume and my credit history need to be verifiable, 
but that's about it.  

T. Harv Eker teaches there is no right or wrong, no good or bad, 
only supportive and unsupportive.  Today I embrace the elements 
of my past that support me, and I release the elements that 
don't.  

Bijan teaches that my power lies in the now.  I choose to make 
my decisions, to use my power, in the now.  


Wed Sep  7 21:51:06 GMT 2005

Survivor

I have watched for ten days in fascination as the story unfolds 
in the Deep South.  The hurricane was terrible, but the levee 
break was sensational.  As I watched story after story roll by, 
I was asked how watching this spectacle would serve me.  

What I found was that out of chaos emerges order.  The ancient 
cult of Seth was right; the new order is different from the old.  
People are self-organizing.  

The ones who went to the ballpark and the convention center, 
waiting for help from outside, suffered.  Surely there were those 
who had little other choice; some parts of the city were buried 
under 20 feet of water.  While the press bemoaned the lack of 
organization, the Coast Guard dispatched 50 helicopters and 90 
cutters.  The Navy sent three amphibious support ships and an 
aircraft carrier.  National Guard and Army appeared everywhere.  
It took a few days for the Cavalry to arrive, but some responded 
swiftly and efficiently.  The Port of Mobile is open.  The levee 
in New Orleans is patched.  Pumps are running, and the water is 
receding.  The Red Cross and the Salvation Army, there from Day 
One, only issued one press release:  send money.  They are busy 
saving lives.  

Some people stayed through the hurricane.  Three bars never 
closed.  A parade was held in the nearly empty city.  This is the 
stuff that will be the legends at the end of the century.  

Some neighborhoods organized.  They formed tribes, assigned 
duties, and fared for themselves.  They knew the strength within, 
and when the rescuers arrived they said, "No, thank you."  
Vigilantes watch over empty streets, there from the beginning, 
there when the police and guardsmen of 40 other states arrived.  
Their property is safe.  They have food, water, electricity, guns 
and ammunition.  They were ready.  

New Orleans must be reconstructed, although the Speaker of the 
House said it made no sense -- that foot must have hurt his mouth 
once he realized it was there.  The Governor of Louisiana gave 
him a good talking-to.  No matter, he's from Illinois.  But the 
Corps of Engineers says the City must be built.  The port is 
vital to the nation, there will be no delay.  8 of 10 refineries 
are working; commerce will prevail.  Construction crews have to 
eat, have to have some place to live.  The rail yards have to be 
dried and operated, and they don't do that without people.  The 
grain elevators have to be refurbished and restocked.  The Port 
will open.  There will be people there.  And what of those who 
refused to leave?  They will greet the immigrants with their 
property, their lives, their dignity intact.  

                         ~~ooOOOoo~~

Reincarnating Hercules

"Rise, young Adonis, it is time to reincarnate."  

Tell me another one.  Adonis and Aphrodite were back in 1997, and 
although they were a pretty couple, their story has "the end" 
written on the final page.  Aphrodite told Adonis in terms he 
could understand that Vulcan was her lover, whose skills he plied 
so well that Adonis could hardly hope some day to be his match.  
This is no motive to leave my bed and face the weights this 
morning.  

"Rise, young Hercules, it is time to reincarnate."  

Now that's more like it.  I am a warrior, and Hercules is a hero.  
His name, not Roman but Greek, is Herakles.  His name ends with 
a typical Greek ending, as in Parnassos, Corinthos, and Kos.  
He has within him the ancient goddess Hera, and all the strength 
of the Universe is his to command.  Hera, I was told, was 
banished by Apollo, and it was Apollo who ruled Mount Parnassos 
when the Oracle at Delphi told her visions.  But on Mount 
Parnassos I looked in vain in 1996 for evidence of Apollo, and I 
found only a sign of Hera there.  The ancient snake, pouring 
life-giving water from the heart of the rock, smiling, winking, 
laughing, through all wear and weather, by the road.  Hera still 
is there.  Herakles, the mighty, draws his strength from his 
mother, the earth, and none can defeat him.  He slays a lion with 
his hands.  He is a warrior; there is nothing that can stop him, 
just like me.  

Today I live with the Priestess, and she is always loving and 
inspiring.  Adonis would not be appropriate, but Herakles can be 
her champion.  

As I look in the mirror I can see them; my abdominals are already 
gaining strength.  They peek through the 30 pounds of irrelevant 
shielding, and once I have shed it they will be the glory of my 
torso.  Herakles will please the Priestess well.  

After I make it to the gym the course will be easy.  I don my 
warrior pendant and go down to meet the iron.  

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