Funny, how the statement, What you need is a little attitude adjustment can mean anything from the literal definition to "Maybe you need someone to knock a little sense into you." Remember, in the old Cher movie, Moonstruck, when she slapped Nicolas Cage and screamed, "Snap out of it!". Just like that, sometimes we need to just snap out of it.
One of the hardest things for us to do is adjust our attitude. It would seem that with so much information easily available to us, so many views and versions being poured on us, that we would constantly be adjusting our attitude. We should be sifting through all the data and searching for the truth, not that the truth is always clear or easy to uncover. Amazingly, we have an uncanny ability to take huge amounts of information and twist it to support our already predetermined opinions.
There are some wonderful giving, generous and open minded people in our world and the majority of us have some one or some thing in our life that we would sacrifice all for. But, the bottom line, the fact of human nature is that the world revolves around our little center. Things track right back to what we personally need, fear, want, how every small happening makes us feel and effects us...that is, ME. Perhaps it's a deep ingrained instinct in us for survival.
Think about it, you get this bit of information that "You know, Mary just really doesn't like you for some reason." You say you don't believe that, that's just silly. But from that moment on, how hard is it to not take everything Mary says and does more personally. Once it has been planted in your mind that someone doesn't like you, it's so easy to perceive something negative in every thing they do and say. You begin to gather proof that she does not like you.
Attitude adjustment is complicated. Our intelligence may be telling us that the possibilities are many, but our instinct is telling us, I'm just confident. I know what I know, believe what I believe. It's not that we shouldn't have our beliefs and be sure of them, but in order to not live in a very constricted world, we have to move away from that little self center. We have to step over into the open part of our mind. No matter how certain we are of our beliefs and positions, it will become very lonely and depressing in our little center. If we don't give any consideration to the opinions of others, compare their ideas, how can we be truly confident of where we stand.
Sometimes, we do need a little jolt . We need to leave all of our preconceived certainties in our center and roam around in the open, check out some other folk's certainties, other folk's dreams. When we return to our small center, even though a little beat up, perhaps we'll have a thing or two to add or OMG, maybe we'll throw a thing or two out. Hank Williams, Jr. sang,
It was an attitude adjustment, made me feel just fine.....
An attitude adjustment, it'll work every time.
Journals of Jo
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Friday, June 27, 2014
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Stuck in the Sixties
From the time that the hubby and I began to spend nearly half our time in Colorado, I often commented that the whole state was stuck in the 1960's. When attending the various summer festivals and music events, we've always been fascinated by the number of people who appear to have walked right out of Woodstock and into the 21st century Rockies.
Earlier this year, before we made our summer sabbatical to the mountain cabin, our friends took great glee in kidding us. According to their way of thinking, with the legal and free flowing availability of marijuana in the state, we would most likely never return from the mellow mountains. Contrary to common assumptions, we've yet to see the streets populated with stoned citizens, their heads encircled in sweet numbing smoke.
It's a bit difficult for us to be very judgemental about the right or wrong, good or bad of "Pot-marts" or of those that shop there and imbibe. After all, we were children of the sixties. We do believe there are some definite medicinal uses of the controversial weed and also believe that the over indulgence in just about anything leads to trouble.
That being said, when we attended a Folk and Bluegrass festival recently, we were prepared to see plenty of mountain highs. We sat in our lawn chairs under the tall trees, the music drifted out from under a huge white tent and the beautiful mountains, many still snow capped made a backdrop that an artist could not have painted any more stunning. The flowing trails of spectators ranged from babies carried in slings to folks that walked uneasily with a cane, on the rocky ground. The favorite seating, the dozens and dozens of multi colored blankets spread on the ground. The chosen attire was anything tie-dyed, much of it sold by the nearby vendor in the tent fluttering with colorful clothing. Although, the man with the crisp brown kilt, a cowboy hat and boots was pretty interesting.
As the evening approached, we watched the parade of festival goers, our plastic cups of wine in hand...alcohol, certainly one of the most destructive drugs that humans have ever partaken of. They lounged on the blankets and slept, they danced the barefoot waltz and other swaying gyrations that resembled the motions of all the splotched dressed children cavorting around the grounds. They wiggled back and forth with the beat of the music to the beer and wine and food vendors. We inhaled...waited for a familiar whiff of Miss Maryjane....never caught it. Oh, most certainly, some of these folks had indulged in their vice of choice. I mean, you had to wonder about the thin older, gray haired man in shorts, sweatshirt and barefoot that performed his yoga in the meadow beside the dancers. Oblivious to anyone in the area, he moved in slow-w-w motion, did his standing frog or what-ever.
In the absence of visible or sniffable proof, we choose to believe that most of these folks are just free spirits. In this world of chaos they are holding on to a dream of peace and love. And wouldn't it be nice, that fifty year old delusion that we could just all get along? It was a good day for dreaming.
Earlier this year, before we made our summer sabbatical to the mountain cabin, our friends took great glee in kidding us. According to their way of thinking, with the legal and free flowing availability of marijuana in the state, we would most likely never return from the mellow mountains. Contrary to common assumptions, we've yet to see the streets populated with stoned citizens, their heads encircled in sweet numbing smoke.
It's a bit difficult for us to be very judgemental about the right or wrong, good or bad of "Pot-marts" or of those that shop there and imbibe. After all, we were children of the sixties. We do believe there are some definite medicinal uses of the controversial weed and also believe that the over indulgence in just about anything leads to trouble.
That being said, when we attended a Folk and Bluegrass festival recently, we were prepared to see plenty of mountain highs. We sat in our lawn chairs under the tall trees, the music drifted out from under a huge white tent and the beautiful mountains, many still snow capped made a backdrop that an artist could not have painted any more stunning. The flowing trails of spectators ranged from babies carried in slings to folks that walked uneasily with a cane, on the rocky ground. The favorite seating, the dozens and dozens of multi colored blankets spread on the ground. The chosen attire was anything tie-dyed, much of it sold by the nearby vendor in the tent fluttering with colorful clothing. Although, the man with the crisp brown kilt, a cowboy hat and boots was pretty interesting.
As the evening approached, we watched the parade of festival goers, our plastic cups of wine in hand...alcohol, certainly one of the most destructive drugs that humans have ever partaken of. They lounged on the blankets and slept, they danced the barefoot waltz and other swaying gyrations that resembled the motions of all the splotched dressed children cavorting around the grounds. They wiggled back and forth with the beat of the music to the beer and wine and food vendors. We inhaled...waited for a familiar whiff of Miss Maryjane....never caught it. Oh, most certainly, some of these folks had indulged in their vice of choice. I mean, you had to wonder about the thin older, gray haired man in shorts, sweatshirt and barefoot that performed his yoga in the meadow beside the dancers. Oblivious to anyone in the area, he moved in slow-w-w motion, did his standing frog or what-ever.
In the absence of visible or sniffable proof, we choose to believe that most of these folks are just free spirits. In this world of chaos they are holding on to a dream of peace and love. And wouldn't it be nice, that fifty year old delusion that we could just all get along? It was a good day for dreaming.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Laws of Nature
The laws of nature are not amendable by something as incompetent as our congress or government. Though occasionally something totally unexpected can occur, in general we humans have close to no control over nature. Nature is certainly not always pretty or pleasant. The other side of the stunning, amazing and beautiful existence of the natural world is the cruel, shocking and ugly reality...the survival of the fittest.
The hubby and I greatly enjoy our summer cabin at the foot of the Colorado mountains. We particularly appreciate being out of the city and having the views of the vast meadows that surround us and roll slowly up to the spectacular peaks. In those meadows, with our binoculars and viewer scopes we are able to observe glimpses of nature that we don't have access to in our Texas home. A small herd of horses roam and graze, with the distant guard of an old shaggy llama. We see antelope, occasional mule deer and a rare elk. We have watched a female antelope kick and fight off attacking coyotes, driving them away.
Recently, unfortunately, the ugly side of nature's drama played out in the far green field. A dog from our widespread and sparsely populated neighborhood, in the company of another that we didn't recognize made a newborn antelope calf their prey. With the mother absent, in mere minutes they slaughtered the small animal. This was a hard thing to see, a cold splash of the reality of life. Later, watching the mother return several times and search the area for her calf was just plain painful.
The thing is, the dog is a perfectly friendly and likable animal. Just a mild faced hunting spaniel, that other than it's annoying mournful howls that sometimes echo from the porch he lounges on, is no problem. Obviously, paired with his large furry sidekick, the inherent instinct of the hunter and prey easily surfaced.
Over the next days, my thoughts went to the inevitability of such events, not just in the animal society. In a dystopian world, a world that is altered from everything we are accustomed to by whatever disaster might cause that change, the human instincts of survival will surface. The friendly and likable neighbor could quickly become your enemy.
If we ever find ourselves in such a world, I believe it won't necessarily be the strongest that survive. It will most certainly be the smartest and the best prepared. The huge advantage we have over the animals is our ability to learn from something bad that happens. We have intelligence and the ability to prevent or at least prepare for unexpected events in our lives. When things happen that remind us of our fragile existance, they should not rule or defeat us but serve to guide us in a more thoughtful and watchful way of living.
The hubby and I greatly enjoy our summer cabin at the foot of the Colorado mountains. We particularly appreciate being out of the city and having the views of the vast meadows that surround us and roll slowly up to the spectacular peaks. In those meadows, with our binoculars and viewer scopes we are able to observe glimpses of nature that we don't have access to in our Texas home. A small herd of horses roam and graze, with the distant guard of an old shaggy llama. We see antelope, occasional mule deer and a rare elk. We have watched a female antelope kick and fight off attacking coyotes, driving them away.
Recently, unfortunately, the ugly side of nature's drama played out in the far green field. A dog from our widespread and sparsely populated neighborhood, in the company of another that we didn't recognize made a newborn antelope calf their prey. With the mother absent, in mere minutes they slaughtered the small animal. This was a hard thing to see, a cold splash of the reality of life. Later, watching the mother return several times and search the area for her calf was just plain painful.
The thing is, the dog is a perfectly friendly and likable animal. Just a mild faced hunting spaniel, that other than it's annoying mournful howls that sometimes echo from the porch he lounges on, is no problem. Obviously, paired with his large furry sidekick, the inherent instinct of the hunter and prey easily surfaced.
Over the next days, my thoughts went to the inevitability of such events, not just in the animal society. In a dystopian world, a world that is altered from everything we are accustomed to by whatever disaster might cause that change, the human instincts of survival will surface. The friendly and likable neighbor could quickly become your enemy.
If we ever find ourselves in such a world, I believe it won't necessarily be the strongest that survive. It will most certainly be the smartest and the best prepared. The huge advantage we have over the animals is our ability to learn from something bad that happens. We have intelligence and the ability to prevent or at least prepare for unexpected events in our lives. When things happen that remind us of our fragile existance, they should not rule or defeat us but serve to guide us in a more thoughtful and watchful way of living.
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