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| November
25, 1999 (Issue #36)
Hello, and welcome to the latest E-llusions! This is Issue #36, and E-llusions enters its second year. What have we covered so far? Well, we've learned that love is a powerful motivating force, that life is good, that we who attend to matters of the heart and mind and soul tend to triumph in times that would crush others. We in our family know the power of laughter, the guiding light of our own energy and intuition, and we've learned that we are who we are, and that's special enough for anybody. In fact, it's a miracle. In past issues, we've learned that our problems with other people are our own problems, that a life without hurt is not a life worth living, and that whatever we may choose to call it, there is something bigger than we are. We've learned that we can't do it all alone, that children contain the magic of our entire species, and that animals can be guides for our best learnings. We've learned the value of friendship, the wonder of respect and commitment, and the value of letting go of those things that don't need to be held onto. And for John and I, there's been much more. Inspired by E-llusions and the website, many of you have written us personally to share your stories. You've told us about your best successes, about working hard and graduating from college or finding yourself in a career and direction that you can, for once, truly love. You've told us about how you've grown and turned yourself into a better person. You've told us about the report your daughter wrote and received an "A" for, because of something she read in E-llusions. You've told us about how you've walked away from that $75,000 a year job to become a $13,000 a year janitor, and how you've never been happier. You've also shared your pain with us. You've told us about losing your loved pet, your brother, your wife, or your husband to whom you've been married for a half-century. You've told us how hard it is to be there for your kids when you're the one left behind, and how the responsibility of each day terrifies you. You've told us about the meltdowns, the shakeups, and how you once lost everything you owned in a hurricane, or how you were terrified in an earthquake that ended up killing thousands of people. You've told us about your conversations with God, with nature, the dream you had last night, and sometimes you've even written just to tell us that, hey, you like what you're reading and you think we're doing an okay job. You've made us laugh; you've brought tears to our eyes. You've made us think; you've made us human. You think you enjoy E-llusions? You should be us. That's why on this Thanksgiving ... we thank you. We're blessed, and don't
think we don't know it. Here we go... ************************** What I know of the divine science and Holy Scripture I learnt in woods and
fields.
Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee.
No concept is a carrier of life.
Hope and fear cannot alter the seasons.
Stop looking for what seems to be missing. You have everything you need to
start with; namely, nothing. ************************** [Ed. note: We've received this item from several sources, similar in wording
and intent, and credited to several individuals. I guess the truth has a way of worming
around in one fashion or another...] It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. It doesn't interest me how old you are. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you can sit with pain, I want to know if you can be with joy, It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling is true. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can live with failure, I want to know if you can sense beauty It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. It doesn't interest me who you are or how you came to be here. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. Tell me these things, and I will know who you are, Tell me these things, and I will know the truth. Tell me these things, and we will walk together. Forever. ************************** Know people who would enjoy E-llusions? We'd love to have them in the fold. Subscribe them. Drop a line to e-llusions@mshadow.com. ************************** Hot sun. Salty air. Rhythmic waves. A little boy is on the beach. On his knees he scoops and packs the sand with plastic shovels into a bright red bucket. He upends the bucket on the surface and lifts it. And, to the delight of the little architect, a castle tower is created. All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing the walls. Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks will be bridges. A sandcastle will be built. Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic. A man is in his office. At his desk he shuffles papers into stacks and delegates assignments. He cradles the phone on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with his fingers. Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed and much to the delight of the man, a profit is made. All his life he will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the future. Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges. An empire will be built. Two builders of two castles. They have much in common. They shape granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and make something. They are diligent and determined. For both the tide will rise and the end will come. Yet that is where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end while the man ignores it. Watch the boy as the dusk approaches. As the waves near, the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker crashes into his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles. He smiles, picks up his tools, takes his father's hand, and goes home. The grownup, however, is not so wise. As the wave of years collapses on his castle he is terrified. He hovers over the sandy monument to protect it. He blocks the waves from the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering he snarls at the incoming tide. "It's MY castle," he defies. The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand belongs... And I don't know much about sandcastles. But children do. Watch them and learn. Go ahead and build, but build with a child's heart. When the sun sets and the tides take - applaud. Salute the process of life and go home. ************************** He stood in busy, crowded Times Square, waiting for a bus. "Hey, wanna see a trick?" He turned to see the younger man, standing by his side in torn jeans and faded
canvas jacket. Unshaven, uncombed, unkempt, the stranger held a well-abused pack of
playing cards in his hand. "You wanna see a trick? A card trick?" "A trick?" "Yeah, a trick. You know...like magic." "No. Thank you," he said, looking down the street, clogged with afternoon traffic. As of yet, no bus in sight. "Aw, come on, Doc," said the younger man. "You'll like it." There was the flash of a big-toothed smile. "Guaranteed." "Thank you, but no. I'm just waiting for my bus." "Well, there's plenty of time, then. Here, take one." "Really," he replied, "I'd rather not. I've never cared for card tricks." "Hey, live a little, I always say." Registering the idiotic patience he was up against, the older man knew that that indeed was what the younger man did, in fact, always say. The would-be entertainer stood there, looking up at him, holding the deck before him in both hands, spread for the taking of a card. He shifted his weight from side to side. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. "Really, please," he said to this stranger, somewhat apologetic. "I'm just waiting for my bus." Left foot. "If I take one," sighed the older man, "will you leave me alone?" "Sure thing, Doc. But you'll like it; you'll see." He tightened the knot in his tie as he looked at the cards, then at the young man. Slowly, he reached over and removed one. "Great, Doc, but you have to look at it. Otherwise, this won't mean anything." He glanced perfunctorily at the Three of Clubs, which felt dirty between his fingers, then looked to see if his bus was in sight. "Here, here, come on, Doc, put it here..." He did as he was told. "Okay, now, just a little shuffle...oops." Several cards fluttered to the sidewalk. The young man bent over to pick them up, bumping a day-worn lady in blue, who glanced reproachfully, then ignored him with great New York diligence. Taking advantage of his assailant's distraction, the man looked for his bus again. It was now in sight, but several blocks away, inching with the traffic, a steel clot in a hardened artery. "All right, here we go," said the young man, after straightening up and shuffling some more. He turned over a card. "Was this it? The King of Hearts?" he asked. The expectation in his voice almost frightened the older man. "No, I don't think so." "Oh." His disappointment was evident. "How about this one? The Seven of Diamonds?" "No. I don't believe that was it, either." "No? Hang on..." More shuffling. The bus moved closer, spewing fumes. The monstrous hiss of its air brakes sang sweetly through the air. "Okay, I've got it now. The Jack of Spades!" The older man shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure that wasn't it." "What was it?" "Well, I'm not sure, but my bus is..." "You mean you didn't remember it?" The young man was amazed. "You didn't tell me to remember it," he said, exasperated, "you just told me to...oh, never mind." "What's the matter? You don't like card tricks?" There was nothing to say. He simply looked at him. "Okay, then," said the stranger with a miff, "maybe you like the bigger stuff?" At that, the lady in blue fell into a deep trance and turned horizontal, hovering three feet above the concrete sidewalk. The young man passed his arms above and below her. "No, sorry," said the older man. "I'm just here waiting for my bus, which, as you can see, is almost here." "Oh, well, there's no worry about that." He turned just in time to see his bus, all three axles and fifty thousand pounds of it, disappear. The air rushed in to fill the sudden vacancy left by its sudden departure with a very sudden and very loud POP. Voices of abject disapproval filtered through the crowd. He turned back to the younger one. "Now see here," he said with all the dignified resentment he could muster, "that wasn't a very nice thing..." "Just hang on a minute, Doc," interrupted the other as the lady gently floated to the ground, "It's okay." She got up, puzzled, brushing herself off and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. As best as she could determine, they hadn't. "Was it the Ten of Hearts?" the young man continued. "No. Now I have an appointment, and..." "Six of Spades? That's always been one of my favorites." "I'm not sure. Now..." "How about the Queen of Hearts? Didn't want to try that one before, cuz everyone thinks of that one, but there you go, I guess." "Now, look!" he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you're a very nice fellow, given the proper circumstances - whatever they may be - but I have to be somewhere else very soon and I WANT MY BUS BACK!" "Oh," said the young man, hanging a puppy-dog head. "Okay, Doc." He felt a breeze at his back. Turning, he saw the silver and blue transport wheezing at the curb, throwing exhaust over the unfortunate vehicle behind it. The bus driver sat on his high throne, scowling at him, one hand on the door lever. "Thank you," he said, moving to the bus. "I hope..." He suddenly found that in his reflexive effort to be polite, he didn't really know what he hoped for. "Well," he said finally, "I hope it goes well for you." With that, he stepped fully onto the bus, flashing his pass and sitting next to an open window. He'd almost forgotten the young man already, when from somewhere in the mass of people still on the sidewalk, he heard a voice: "Hey, wanna see a trick?" "What an odd fellow," he muttered to himself. "He really should practice more." As the bus pulled away, he never looked up, never looked back, and never saw the message moving slowly in ten-foot letters on the Times Square marquee above his head: "...KIDDING, DOC / THE THREE OF CLUBS / JUST KIDDING, DOC / THE THREE..." ************************** It always amazes me, the limitations we put on ourselves. Apparently there are certain things WE DON'T ALLOW OURSELVES TO BELIEVE. Things we CAN'T believe. As if they're IMPOSSIBLE -- they CAN'T HAPPEN. As I write this there's a mystery surrounding the crash of EgyptAir Flight 990. According to what I hear, there seemed to be no systems failures, and there were no weather problems. The autopilot and engines were deliberately switched off, and it looks as if the pilot and co-pilot were pushing the controls in opposite directions. The accident investigators seem pretty certain the crash occurred as a direct result of the actions of one of the crew. But wait. Some Egyptians can't get a handle on this. They can't wrap their minds around the concept. Suicide -- and, in this case, simultaneous mass murder -- isn't something a devout Muslim would do. And the suspect was, of course, a devout Muslim. There has to be some other explanation, they say. And maybe there is. Maybe the voice and flight data recorders were wrong, or maybe the data was misinterpreted. I have no idea what caused the crash, and for the purposes of this discussion the cause is not important. What's really interesting to me are Belief Systems. EgyptAir is government owned. Egypt likes tourist dollars. If it looks like their pilots occasionally twist off and deliberately crash planes, well, what is this going to do to tourism? It would be bad. Therefore, this pilot couldn't POSSIBLY have deliberately caused the crash, because if he did, an Egyptian Economic Inconvenience would result. So some Egyptians won't even entertain the POSSIBILITY that someone they thought they KNEW to be a reasonable guy -- the pilot -- was a nut. It would shatter their Belief System. So here we are, in a crosscurrent of swirling BS. BS is my abbreviation for "Belief System." Belief systems are funny things. We all have them, but we don't easily change them. Imagine if we acted the same way about our underwear. We seldom bother to overhaul our BS, or even do routine maintenance. Once we adopt BS we like, THAT'S IT! We have discovered the Secrets of the Universe. And please don't try to shake things up by offering DATA WHICH MAY CHANGE OR EVEN CONTRADICT OUR CHOSEN BS. Our BS is like concrete -- all mixed up and set. I live in Oklahoma City where there was a big terrorist bombing a few years ago. One thing I kept hearing over and over again: "How could this happen HERE? This sort of thing isn't supposed to happen HERE! I can't believe this happened HERE." Now, I was as sad and shocked and outraged as anyone, but even more shocked at such statements. Even in the midst of this emotional roller coaster I understood that there was nothing special about this town which would prevent unfortunate events from happening here. Like most towns in America, we have streets here, and our streets have buildings. Ryder trucks packed with explosives can drive up OUR streets as easily as they can drive anywhere else, and park in front of a building here as easily as they can park anywhere else. A terrorist interested in killing people will find them no harder to kill here than anywhere else. So what do you mean, it's not supposed to happen here? Where IS it supposed to happen? I think when people say things like, "I can't BELIEVE [whatever]", what they're actually thinking is: "I really, really, really DON'T LIKE [whatever]." Like our friends, the Egyptians. Maybe they can explain to me what it is about Egyptians, and/or Muslims, which somehow magically prevents them from doing something whacky. From time to time, to my utter amazement, someone will actually ask me about my deeply-held BS. Lately I've been answering, "Well, right now I believe in POSSIBILITIES and CHANGE." What do you mean "right now", they ask? I say: "Well, because I believe everything changes, that means my BS will probably change as I receive more data about specific things and life in general. At least, I hope it changes. It's happened before." For instance, I used to believe a fat guy slid down the chimney at Christmas. I used to believe if I ate a wafer at Communion I was eating the ACTUAL body of a dead Jewish guy named Jesus. As a kid I saw a film clip of Hitler visiting the Hitler Youth, and he was smiling and patting everyone on the back. I thought: "He looks like a nice guy!" Maybe all of these are actually true -- remember, I also believe in possibilities -- but right now I'm not buying it. BS changes. I see no reason why it won't continue to change as I navigate the crowded skies of my skull. Therefore, my present BS and all subsequent BS is subject to frequent and possibly immediate change without warning. "OK," they say, "let's put that aside for a moment. What about POSSIBILITIES?" I answer that I believe all things are possible. Not necessarily LIKELY, but certainly POSSIBLE. Even contradictory things seem simultaneously and/or eventually possible. For instance, Creationism and Evolution both fit nicely into my skull. Maybe the Earth was created in 6 days, Goddess rested on the 7th, and we started evolving on the 8th. Woody Allen first appeared on the 10th through the 17th, with a special repeat engagement the following week by popular demand. Who knows? Maybe Norman Rockwell PAINTED us into existence. I don't know which is "right." I don't have to choose sides. Why should I spend a moment worrying about it? I look at my cats and I don't see THEM worrying about it, and this lack of absolute knowledge seems to cause them no distress. So maybe I've come up with a third possibility: My life will be just fine whether or not I worry about the "rightness" of competing BS. I saw a shirt which said: E=Mc2 -- IT'S NOT JUST A GOOD IDEA, IT'S THE LAW! One aspect of Einstein's Theory of Relativity is that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. This is a widely held belief, and maybe it's "right." But I guess scientists don't learn from their own history: All kinds of things scientists THOUGHT they knew later turned out to be wrong, or only partially correct, or mostly correct but there are occasional exceptions. Why isn't it possible to exceed the 186,000 MPS Speed Limit? Well, the scientists tell you, because of A and B and C, which we've carefully thought out over many years and which PROVES [!] our point. My answer: Fine. But YOU DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING! You aren't in possession of ALL THE INFORMATION! Therefore this can be your answer ONLY UNTIL MORE DATA COMES IN. My dad is one of the smartest guys I know. I read about famous scientists and what I discovered was, they would make Big Breakthroughs. But later in life they couldn't stand it if another scientist came along and showed that some aspects of the Big Breakthrough might be wrong. I said, "Dad, when these scientists originally came up with their Big Breakthroughs, they did the same thing to their predecessors. But now when a new scientist comes along and builds on their Big Breakthrough, or worse, contradicts it, the old scientists resist like hell, no matter how compelling the evidence. They're not being open-minded. Why do they pooh-pooh the new knowledge?" My dad said, "Because they didn't think it up." We're all gods of our own skulls, and we don't want to have to deal with other gods' ideas. A friend, a writer from New York who is doing a piece on Christian Fundamentalists, wrote and asked what I thought of a particular scientist, a designer of nuclear weapons, who believes in Creationism and thinks the world is only two thousand years old. She can't conceive of a scientist, a man of disciplined learning, who would also believe the fundamentalist theory that the Earth is but a few thousand years old. I told her I think everyone holds beliefs which may seem contradictory and/or ridiculous to others. Some of them are open about all their beliefs. Others hide the beliefs they don't think their peers will like. Yet others hide most of their Belief Systems from everybody, even themselves. I also told her if she really wants to know why people believe certain things, she ought to start by finding out what COMFORT a particular BS provides the person who holds it. We wouldn't have our BS if it didn't make us feel good in some way -- and we don't keep it once it starts making us feel bad. In that way BS may be like drugs. By the way, if you really want a good laugh, watch a Politician, a Really Smart Scientist, or a Grand Poobah of Some Religion [i.e., "experts"] drone on and on about the "truth" and "rightness" and "irrefutable nature" of their particular BS. When it comes to laying it on wider and deeper, these three groups are the undisputed masters, because they are very learned and have spent a lifetime investing in their particular BS. Understandably, they don't want to find out there may be fundamental flaws in their chosen BS. It's rare to find anyone in these groups who will shrug his or her shoulders and say, "That's what we seem to 'know' at present. Of course, it may turn out to be nothing but flawed BS tomorrow. We never really 'know' ANYTHING." Maybe it seems like a paradox, but the wisest people may be the ones who say, in response to a question: "I don't know the answer. I only know what I believe this moment. And that could be wrong. In fact, you should proceed as if it IS wrong! Why are you asking me in the first place? Figure it out for yourself -- and enjoy your flight." ************************** Every ten days we post a message to our website BBS that presents a provocative question. Here's the latest PONDER THIS: It's Thanksgiving. What are you most thankful for, and why? Post your thoughts and suggestions to http://www.mshadow.com/bboard. ************************** Comments? Send them to E-llusions@mshadow.com! Ask others to subscribe. Have them write: E-llusions@mshadow.com. Visit us at http://www.mshadow.com! Swing by, post to the guestbook and bulletin board, and let us know what's on your mind. We have some very interesting links, some great reading, and showcases of our favorite books...all that and more at the MoonShadow Visions website! There's a lot of stuff up there, so be sure and browse around. The guestbook can be found at http://www.mshadow.com/guestboo.cfm. The bulletin board is at http://www.mshadow.com/bboard/. Our mailing address is P.O. Box 26652, Oklahoma City, OK 73126-0652. Our telephone number is (405)672-5722. If you care to write Lance or John directly, try Lance@mshadow.com or John@mshadow.com. Many thanks to the following for their providing material that appears in this issue: Linda Lindquist "May you live all the days of your life." Subscribe to E-llusions? Click here and say "Count me in!" |