Black Friday, or the Death of All That is Sacred

Today, let us dress in black.

Yes, brothers & sisters, let us don our sackcloth and ashes in mourning.

Black Friday is upon us. That newest star in the secular sky, celebrating the beginning of the Holiday Shopping Season.

Black Friday. Why is it black? Because merchants are nearly guaranteed to make a tidy profit at this time of the year. So do credit card companies. And loan agencies. Banks. Restaurants…

Hail to Thee, Almighty Dollar.  King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

The most blessed, sacred season of the year are those traditions which warm the heart and soul through the long cold lonely winter. These have been reduced to photo ops, business mixers, fashion shows, and jingles for the latest item someone’s telling you that you just can’t live without.

Shopping for Salvation.

We buy things to make us feel better about not having done the things that really matter.

Like helping each other.

Like having fun together.

The things we all remember from the used-to-be times.

Playing together.

Giving of ourselves.

But we have nothing left to give when we spend all our time and energy making money.

Money to survive.

Money to save.

Money to spend.

Money to burn.

It’s a trap. It’s a giant machine we plug ourselves into because we’re convinced it’s the only way to live.

Is it really?

That’s the story we’re told. The one we tell ourselves. We teach it to our children.

Is IT working for you?

Or are you working for IT?

 

 

Get Up, Stand Up

Someone mentioned one day that no one reports the good things that happen. Why is it that we only hear about tragedy, atrocity, banality? Who decided that’s what we want to hear?

We humans are selective about many things, but we fall prey, every time, to the seductions of our darker nature.

The train wreck.

Hideous, but you can’t look away.

Shameful. Now you feel guilty for being fascinated.

The death-spiral of the Shadow Dance. You must see these things in yourself…part of your human self…or find a way to put the genie back in the bottle.

Enter addiction. Obsession. Compulsion.

When you hide from yourself, you can’t run far enough or hide deep enough.

So, why don’t we hear more about the good things that happen?

Perhaps there aren’t enough Hopeful Idealists who are willing to suffer the slings and arrows of the digital audience.

Get Up. Stand Up.

I challenge you to tell the story of something good you’ve seen someone do. Tell their story to someone– in person, in a letter, in a blog, in a song…

Then come back here and share it…we’d love to hear something good from you!

Happy Holidays to All

Secret Hiding Place X Marks the Spot

Crazy Annie? Where is she?

I received these today & I didn’t know where else to hide them.  There’s something funny going on here…. let me know if you see someone suspicious…

text of document: Doodle & Buddy Bear Go Into the Wild!

Doodle Bear always wanted to be a secret agent. He was very good at listening to people and paid attention to details.

His Brother, Buddy Bear, wanted to be a rock star. He loved music and had fun with whatever he was doing. Making people happy was very important to him.

Doodle Bear convinced his caretaker to send him for a visit with his cousin, Tebby. Tebby had recently been adopted by his little girl and was happily snoozing in his very own closet for his winter hibernation (sweet bliss!).

The Caretaker, a kindly-but-scatter-brained elderly woman, agreed that this would be an acceptable arrangement.

She stuffed Doodle in a box & sealed it shut with shiny tape. Doodle lay unceremoniously slumped, nearly upside-down, in a cardboard box…

The indignity.

The Ministry will hear about this, mark my words…

Doodle?

Yes, Nonny?

It’s just a story, darling. A story for Lilly, remember?

Story? …uh…oh, yes….yesyes….harumph….sorry.

I’ll be back for this later. Thanks.

V