Just Believe

Christmas time this year, and I feel so very, very homesick.

This clip is dedicated to those I have loved in this world that are gone now and those I love still that are here for me (what treasure I have!).

The magic of Christmas is so special. It heals us and brings us new hope for every tomorrow.

Enjoy the love and forgiveness and the renewal of the holidays for all they offer you.

My First Christmas

Christmas memories are remarkable for me. Seems like Christmas was/is the turning point for the entire year – I still mark every one of my years by December 25th instead of January 4 (my birthday!!).

And special memories of Christmas bubble up now and again reminding me of wonderful “sugar plum” love and sometimes even disappointment. So this year I’m choosing to share with you one of those memories from my favourite Christmases and hope it will stir up your own best memories, too.

The first Christmas I can remember would be when I was five. We had moved to a new house. My brother was only a year old. The house had a big living room with 10-foot ceilings (that seemed to be twice that high to me) and right by the front door there was a wonderful floor to ceiling window where we always put the Christmas tree.

The Tree

I remember the beautiful, tall, green, live, pine tree decorated with lots of pretty Christmas balls and some lights that looked like little glass candles in plastic holders. The glass part was yellow, blue, red and green and the contrasting plastic holders were mostly two toned green and yellow or green and red. The candle portion, once heated up would produce unending bubbles inside the glass tube and make little glass clinking noises once in a while. They were featured every year of my memory on our trees (I even bought then for myself after I grew up left home).

Christmas carols would play all the time. So pretty.

Under the tree Mom would arrange a white sheet (so it looked like snow) and put down special, big wooden bowls with fresh oranges and mandarins and mixed nuts (especially my favourite English walnuts). And boxes of home made and carefully decorated Christmas cookies – more than you could ever eat! And hard candy with little Christmas trees and wreaths on them.

The Doll of my Dreams

I had seen -- and desperately wanted -- this wonderful, tall-as-me, walking doll so badly. I think as I look back it was a difficult year for money what with the move and a new brother and all. But I was five and there was nothing more important for me than that doll with the frilly, white, long dress and the little pink bows all over it. I can still see her lovely hands and little fingernails and her beautiful eyes that would close if you laid her down for a nap.

Meaning of Christmas

Then right after dinner the day before Christmas, Mommy came to me and said we needed to go into Daddy’s office. Now I knew this is where all the Christmas presents were “hidden”. And I wasn’t supposed to go in there at all.

Well actually I had wandered in there a few times anyway and could see all the enticing boxes up high covered in bags. But they were up so high I couldn’t actually see anything. But I knew my dolly was there because it was the biggest box ever.

So I was really happy because I thought she was going to give it to me now instead of having to wait till Christmas morning!!

Strangely, she brought the newspaper with her and sat down on Daddy’s office chair. She had me come look at a picture on the front page of the paper.

There was an image of a burnt down house. With a mommy and daddy and little girl standing outside in the falling snow. Mommy explained that this family had lost everything in a fire that very morning and would have no Christmas at all.

That made me feel real sad as I peered at every detail of that picture.

She looked at me and she looked up at the boxes. Then she got up from the chair and reached up real tall and brought down the very big box in the bag. She looked at me again. She said nothing but slowly pulled the bag off.

And there she was, my dolly! The most wonderful dolly I had ever seen. All I wanted to do was to touch her, to hold her, to brush her hair, to smell her skin, to give her a big kiss.

But Mommy put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me a little away (I would have slobbered on that box to be sure!).

She asked me to turn and look in her eyes. There were little tears there – I will never be able to forget.

And she said, “Sweetie, we must do something for this poor family and I want you to give the little girl your dolly. You would like to do that wouldn’t you or that little girl will have no Christmas at all.”

Well I did NOT want to give her my dolly. I had wanted that dolly more than anything in the world.

Mommy said, “What if it had been us, wouldn’t it be nice if some little girl wanted to give her dolly to you?”

Well, yes, I thought. That would be good.

I looked down at my dolly’s beautiful face and just wanted to touch her once.

Yet, as I thought of that other little girl, with nothing but cinders and dark boards surrounding her, I couldn’t resist. I reached out to the box with my dolly in it and pushed it to Mommy. I asked her to take my dolly to the little girl. And I have known all my life that this is and was what Christmas is supposed to be, always.

Holiday Wishes for You

I hope your Christmas and holidays are the best ever and they are crowded with family and friends, good food and time to remember all the moments of precious love you have ever had in your life. And I hope that by the time you get through New Years that the only memories that remain are the good ones for the past year.

With love from Lady Sheridanne Kelley

Don't Give Up!!

Sometimes you just have to take stock of who you are and what is actually happening around you to find the secret to tomorrow. Hope you enjoyed that...I know I am.

/me smiles and smiles and smiles

Towanda !!!

Henry David Theroux said most men live lives of quiet desperation. In other words they are not only bored with their lives to the point of screaming, they remain silent. Perhaps they remain silent because they have convinced themselves that like a tree falling in the woods with no one there to hear it, there really is no sound and no one will hear them scream out for mercy.

But we all know the truth of that. Just this week I posted a segment about the series of virtual disappointments Lady Sheridanne has been going through (RL & VL (real life and virtual life).

She didn’t get through them alone though….others held her hand, her head, hugged her, danced with her, gave her a massage, rushed her off to get several lattes and many explained their own victories as examples of how “hope happens” and can’t be lost.

It was a time where Lady Sheridanne could not be strong or frisky or hopeful or optimistic or positive for anyone else, let alone for herself. Lady Sheridanne is exhausted from the last four months of events and has no more strength left.

Old Friends and New

And without intending to she turned to old and new friends just for a hug or a word from them. And they came.

- The man who brought her first to Avilion, enchanting her with his Elven magic and charm to hold her and to strengthen her from his new found strengths.

- The lady who taught her about being an Ancient, who said something to the effect, that this too will pass and really doesn’t matter much in the universal scheme of things and gently threw her long, red, dread locks over her shoulder and hugged me.

- The man who made the music box that I played until the neighbors must have complained and who held me like no other in my home, came and helped me say good bye (and hopefully has found a way to save my music box for my new home).

- The man who has held her the most, through the most difficult times for the longest friendship she has ever had in her virtual life -- a great (yet lost love), came and held her and listened to her fears for the upteenth time -- and still cares

- The gentle lady who never misses a day sending me encouraging words in many ways reminded me to look to my friends over and over, repeating the lesson as if I was a slow learner (and I am) offered me more hugs than I deserve.

- My first sword teacher came and hugged me and told me how well I had learned my lessons with him and how there were more things to learn from these past events.

- And my wonderful role play husband and special, dear friend came when all the furniture was gone danced with me and held me and let me just weep and say good bye. He let me be so angry and frightened and weak and never once told me to “Buck up.” A unique gift to be sure.

That tears and raging for a bit help is self evident to us all. And those who know me, know I rarely allow myself to ever get angry at injustice at myself (although for others you must be prepared to hold me back).

Compost Treasure

For me, the culmination of these months of exhausting difficulties and personal loss became like a huge pile of compost. And the useless scraps that are tossed into that pile must be nurtured too (tears and hugs from friends do this in real life -- I know) and then, when ready the compost can be spread out in all the right places to bring forth the most lovely and healthy of blossoms (I am the Queen of Flowers and the Spring for a reason, you know).

Most of all, being so weak I could barely stand -- taught me new things about friends I sometimes rush past as I try not to be hurt again by anyone.

But I am back now -- although I never really left, I just went into neutral as I took time to remind myself that my contribution to this world and that world is unique. No one else can make it but me. And if I stop, although there are a gazillion other people out there, no one can give what I give from what I’ve learned and know and from what I have become.

Honey and More Honey

An new friend started a blog recently and I pulled off this quote by Antonio Machado that he used. It is actually what began the hard healing of my heart.

"Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvellous error!
That I had a beehive here inside my heart.
And the golden bees were making white combs
And sweet honey from my old failures."

But most of all a friend, lying in a stable manger offered me the final set of building blocks to begin preparing the compost. (Thank you as always for being my Muse).
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How to be the strong one (TBS)

1. Keep a sense of humour
2. Remember, that its not your life - its someone elses
3. Have faith in something, even if its only yourself
4. Expect pain
5. Sacrifice yourself if it helps. Otherwise, play for keeps
6. Stay heads down even if everyone is going crazy.
7. Kiss away tears
8. Grab the back of the wrist, not the front. You won't get cut
9. Be willing to fight the crowd
10 What they're saying about the people they love, is really about themselves
11. Protect all children but teach them and play with them more
12. Make lists, even things that are soulbound.
13. Plan the work
14. Work the plan
15. Pain is weakness leaving the body
16. Lance Armstrong Rocks

"There is no limit to what a man can achieve as long as he doesn't care who get's the credit". - Bob Woodruff. (Coca Cola Corporation).
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I mixed in too many illustrations you are thinking…well you are right, but they symbolise the many, many gifts I have received. You see, although I absolutely refuse to open my Christmas presents early, this year I was tricked into, not only receiving the presents early, I was tricked into opening and using them early too.

Many have helped me during this time and I have not mentioned you all, but you know I am grateful anyway and I owe you a long, Lady Sheridanne, special hug. The one that makes you relax and results in giggles. Remember?

So I am humbled and I am healing and I am strong again, but wiser hopefully and thanks to each one of you for your patience and your love for me. Thank you and happy holidays (whatever they mean for you). For me….well this has already been a most memorable holiday!

Remember When?

What a lovely and sweet film and what a joy to be reminded of all the toys and wonder and magic. There were many grown-up reminders too.

Tis the Season

Tis the season to be jolly, to share fun with people, to make a decision between buying a real tree or once more pull out the artificial tree with the pretty fibre-optic lights embedded in the branches, saving you time in decorating. And deciding between cooking a traditional Christmas dinner or remembering that it will likely be over 35 degrees C (100 degrees F) with bush fires raging rather than snow to shovel.

This year it promises to be a strange Christmas in the virtual world. Last year as I wandered through the pixelated virtual world I entered (over a year ago), I found it so much fun. It was filled with leaving secret gifts with friends and singing Christmas Carols with lots of strangers who became friends, passing out platters of warm cookies and milk and tea and coffee and going ice skating and skiing in the only place that had snow and ice last year.

But this year, snow and ice are all the rage in the virtual world. But what is different this year is that I am losing my home in the realm I have lived in for almost all the time I have been in the virtual world. What a sad Christmas present.

I have also resigned my responsibilities in my home realm. Worst of all, my friends there no longer even feel free or comfortable to speak with me. Heartbreakingly, some even believe lies that have followed me, unjustly for ages (that I have foolishly ignored thinking I would be cleared and vindicated of these suspicions). I love my home realm so much, and learned to work under many challenges there to help make it safer and more fun for residents and visitors alike. But it doesn’t matter now. I made enemies too and they have worked their hardest to hurt me, so I wish them a satisfied Christmas.

Where Did The FUN Go?

But for me, where are the people to trust or have fun with? I haven't written or recited a poem at a poetry reading for ages or sparred with my sword or pulled out my bow for anything more than an accessory. No teaching, no building...what is happening to my life in the virtual world?

So many of the people I care about have left the virtual world or been banned from one Sim (realm) or another! I am not sure what to do for Christmas in the virtual world (Christmas was so lovely there last year).

So I purpose(d) to throw a big Christmas party – oh no, forgive me, to be politically correct, I must call it a tree-lighting party. But it is likely few, if any, will show up anyway -- as just getting permission to have the party has been very controversial. So I am just wrestling with what to do.

For me personally and virtually, it has been a year of loss since August starting with the loss of my virtual, very frisky and creative husband/partner. Then my real life Dad, died and I couldn’t even go home to be with the family. Then my resignation from my responsibilities in my virtual home realm. Now, controversy over my role play husband in another virtual realm and many betrayals of my trust. For me, right now, there seems to be only a very few friends left I can trust.

Daddy, Iago & the Ruler

Actually, my Dad told me once that if you lived your life and had five real friendships you were a rich person. I was nineteen when he imparted this bit of “foolish” wisdom to me. I thought it was the silliest thing I had ever heard. I mean I was involved in lots of activities and a cheerleader too. What could he know of real life?

But over the years, I noticed, as we all do (if we are growing wiser), that for every year I grew older, my Dad grew wiser in my understanding. He was right…five good friends would be an immeasurable treasure in either the virtual world or the real world!

And Iago was also right. Iago, my most wonderful love in the virtual world, lost forever because of intrigue, politics and amazing lies. He told me to trust no one – NO ONE -- in the virtual world, because anyone can create an alternate identity. That person can be appealing and kind and seem to care about you. You can grow to trust them and pour your heart out to them and they only exist to betray you and grind you into the dust. How can you live in the virtual world knowing this?

And the ruler of my home realm was also right when he told me he thought I was burned out and needed to take a break and go find some fun and live more in the virtual realm as well as the real realm. (Thank you for that, m'Lord.)

Wake-up Call

This morning in real life, I slept in till 5:04 AM. The latest I have slept in since first entering my virtual home realm (where I averaged easily six hours a day seven days a week) for almost a year. I found it so strange to be awake and find the sun just peeping over the bay (I would rise extra early to get my hours in, usually before 3 AM when it is very dark out). I forgot how pretty the sunrise was.

I was very tired you see because yesterday I enjoyed going Christmas shopping with the two loves of my real life (the 13-year old and the 7-year old) and taking them to see the sweet and recommendable movie, “Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium”, with Dustin Hoffman.

It was lovely. I hope to write a blog segment around one of the lines in the movie: "Your life is an occasion, so rise to it!" What a great idea. Perhaps this is the introduction.

He Said, She Said, Part II - The Arms of the Angels

He said,

"There is a fine line between love and illusion
A fine place to penetrate
The gap between actor and act
The lens between wishes and fact.

She said,

"Yes, the line between love and illusion
is almost as fine as
the gossamer wings of a butterfly
or a faery...
easy to penetrate
but impossible to repair.

"Is our act authentic or merely pretend?
Where is the truth of the illusion?

"Do our wishes not sometimes
even colour the facts,
if they are strong enough
for us to look through?

"Perhaps!"

Why?

Sharing is so dangerous...Like a snail moving in the world, unaware of others and how they see them. Perhaps, we are all snails to someone at times....and some have boxes of salt. Do we stay inside our shells and hide, or keep trying to play the game, that is the question.

Meme - 8 Facts about THE Lady

The "one who cannot be named", tapped me. I thought it might be interesting to presume I am “the Lady”. So I also read up on Meme and this IS supposed to be some kind of art form . So, here as challenged, are eight facts about the Lady. (now you will have to wonder whether these facts are about THE Lady or her Alt (alter ego in this case).

WORDS

1. I belonged to a book club when I was four and wrote my first book when 14 (it was meticulously hand-printed on lined paper, bound between two pieces of silver, spray-painted thin boards of plywood and held together by my favourite turquiose blue kniting yarn (and now I am a dinky-di (authentic) international author (published by McGraw Hill). Last year on a trip home to my little (now six-foot tall) brother’s house, I found one of my favourite, childhood picture books, filled with amazing four-coloured plates of unique flora and fauna around the world. As I carefully opened the cover and began to turn the heavy pages, just the scent of the ink brought back memories of the many hours I spent devouring them. The images of animals and plants instantly reminded me of my child-like and naive determination to see every one of them.

• Here a fig tree with roots above the ground so large you can stand hidden with them (and I have).
• Here a temple on stilts in the water (where I walked).
• Sculpted formal gardens (where I sat smelling the sage, rosemary and thyme and made my own pen and ink drawings).
• A rubber tree scored with special marks to drip its white, viscuous liquid into a bucket (that I rubbed gently between my fingers).
• Oh yes, and the spider that trapped water around it’s abdomen and could last forever like that until an unsuspecting person or animal played with them to find, if bitten, they face eternity in under 45 minutes (they live not far from my garden now)

So many memories in the book and a life devoted to seeing each of these images for real. And I have you know. Travelled that is. The only one with a passport from a family that never travelled more than 71 (to where Grandma lived and university was) miles -- except for grave exceptions. And written and written and written.

Life Goals

2. I wanted to be a ballerina first, but at three was stricken by Scarlet Feaver and gave that up as I barely crawled unknowlingly from the brink of personal extinction. Next, I wanted to be a doctor, but was told by everyone I couldn’t be, because only men were doctors, so I decided I would be nothing and got married. Which as it turns out was almost the same thing. That ended (no kids) and my hope of true, deep, lasting, profound love ended too (Extra! Extra! Read all about it in a forthcoming blog segment here: “Mysteries of Attraction”). Alone, and having not worked in the real world, I took receptionists jobs hoping to be “discovered” and remarried to a kind, intelligent, man of faith who was thoughtful, very honest and had enough money to give me time to write, but that hasn’t happened either. (Although, in one year I must confess, I received proposals from seven very wonderful men, but declined them all – what a cheeky woman!) From receptionist, I was promoted to editorial assistant in a medical publishing company and was promoted again to be their promotions director (direct marketing when it was just mail) and realised that writing (even compelling commercial writing) was what I loved to do the most – it is almost as satisfying to me as that “s” word.

Motivators

3. I have five constant motivators in my life since I was about 16 and first wrote them down. They change priority as I slip through life but today are in this order:

A. To write.
B. To speak (public speaking and facilitation of workshops).
C. To travel (give me a ticket to some place new and I am there).
D. To share my joy (I have had so much I can dole it out by the buckets).
E. To make enough money (for my own needs and to have enough to share with those I love – I do not hoard money and intend to work until I drop dead at my keyboard.).


Strong & Solitary

4. I have never had anyone to actually lean on or depend upon. I took care of my family -- still help take care of my brother -- and have always been the strong, independent one, the glue, the peacemaker, the healer, the “bringer of Christmas”; and the one who is tireless in supporting those who are sad and lonely. Somehow giving keeps me from noticing that I still hope for someone to help me.


Blended Family

5. I live in a very large home with eight bedrooms and a lovely back yard – now with grass so lush from all the rains and the heat of the promised summer and I love pottering around pulling weeds and trying to make grapevines obey me. I have a wonderful family that lives with me. The Mom is my very bestest friend ever. And I have a few good friends, but none like Carla, who demonstrates unconditional love to me in the most humbling and constant manner I am ashamed to even write about it here. She has a supportive husband (Paul) and they have two boys. David “discovered” me and introduced me to the family and for that I will always be grateful. He was seven at the time and is now 13 (with a newly discovered moustache). Finally, Matthew who was 13 months old and is now a grown-up seven. He loves me with an innocence I had not expected but truly am amazed by (hope it lasts just a little longer). As a special kind of family we share everything -- plus the boys fix things, climb up on ladders and kill spiders for me anytime I need that done too.

Slick

6. I met my life mentor when I was about 30 years old and thought I knew it all. He calls me Slick – and only one other person in the world does. But Fred has helped me keep many things in perspective over the years and has believed in me when no one else has. I only wish he didn’t still live in California and I was so far away. You can read more about him in another forthcoming article on this blog called, of all things, “Slick.”

Geneology

7. In my geneology I am actually descended from people from Switzerland, who somehow travelled through England (my great grandmother served the Queen as an actual lady-in-waiting), some settled in the USA, and somehow through a series of adventures has me clearly in the family line of Wild Bill Cody! So you take your pick am I more like Buffalo Bill or a Lady in waiting…/me smiles.

Private

8. I rarely share personal things with anyone, well not really important things about myself because I feel like a little snail who has extended herself out of her shell once too often to be greeted by a salt shaker. (you would have to have snails in your garden to appreciate the metaphor).

This was difficult! (And BTW (by the way): this is just a new form of chain letter, you understand, but no money is involved, unless you want to send some to fund my writing, of course). I tend to obfuscate my actual identity in fluff (and probably still did more than I realise. But I have enough critics (the good kind) who will tell me if I did). So now it is over to eight others to take the challenge of the MEME (feel free to email me your reply, if you don’t have a blog site yet).

1. Valla
2. Rill
3. Juniper
4. Gorthaur
5. Rijani
6. Shane
7. Jip

8. Iago

Hold On

Fasten your seat belt and put on your crash helmet. Someone sent me a very provocative email about a Fortune 500 Leadership conference they just attended and I answer it (personally) but wanted to share some of what I said with you as this person hit some very important hot buttons.

Leadership

I have written extensively on the topic of leadership for my industry, yet the principles I write about are not industry specific nor are they new, but obvious and practical -- by any other words: common sense.

In several of the workshops I facilitate, we consider a quote from Dostoevsky's, Brothers Karamazov, that roughly says: "All human beings are drawn to and can be manipulated by three great desires: a miracle, a mystery and for authority."

For all the fads of bottom up, upside down, circular whirling, team, etc., management -- people do still want structure (not necessarily a dictator, although if you read "The Six Styles of Leadership" in my weekly industry column, you will find that even dictatorial leadership is indeed needed sometimes).

Spock or Freud Started It – You Pick!

Remember Dr. Benjamin Spock (a follower of Freud, for a while it would seem)? He became controversial, then popular when he proposed the theory that children should not be disciplined (because it repressed creatively for their lifetimes). And of course who of us likes to be disciplined? Everyone can relate to this idea.

Yet children, teens, young adults and adults (and household pets) all long for some "reference points" in all their lives. Chaos and anarchy appeal to few and are feared by most all; yet out of each of these states (chaos and anarchy), structure begins to form spontaneously reardless of the "amount" of freedom anyway! Someone always struggles to the front of the line and decks (knocks out) the guy in their way.

Since Spock first proposed these ideas (later withdrawing the theory himself), these same concepts have invaded our schools, our business institutions and our government. Where responsibility is shifted or completely ameliorated into what is known as the "soft" approach to dealing with people. This "soft" approach should, according to the experts, result in good behaviour rather than undesired behaviour (Yet the principles of progress demonstrate that things do not build to better but deteriorate over time where there is no structure and appropriate leadership).

Example

If someone wants me to travel to London or Chicago or Atlanta or Amsterdam to speak to a group of their colleagues about leadership, I ask for parameters and clarification of the engagement, including:

· Who is making the booking? Are they actually able to assemble the level of executives and leaders the message is appropriate for; and are they able to pay the fee?
· Where will the event take place -- on some one's back veranda or in the City Civic Centre and what is the exact address?
· Where will I stay -- in a nice hotel or in the Travel Lodge? Do I have a per diem?
· What topics should be covered in particular? What are the hot spots for the attendees?
. What should not be mentioned? (There are always pitfalls that must be avoided.)
· What day and time is the speech or workshop scheduled for? How long do I have to deliver the message and how early will someone be there for me to rehearse?

All these questions give structure and a way to make the decision to come or not --the word is guidelines. But the guidelines do not dictate how to fulfil the desire. No one else will write or deliver my speech for me. The leader however demonstrates leadership by giving me clear parameters of how to satisfy the requirement. And to do this without threat.

The group of Fortune 500 leaders in the aforementioned workshop came up with a perfect definition of leadership. It is: "to have your employees do what you want them to do, even if you are not there."

Ted Turner's Quote

Ted Turner (who I almost went to work for years ago at one of those key junctures of my life) once said, "If you want to know if you are a leader, turn around and see if others are following you!"

In the many teams I have led, I can proudly say people would follow me out the window of a ten-story building – but I would demonstrate the technique first; they would follow BECAUSE they trust me and believe in my vision (and know I must have a reason for such idiotic behaviour!).

It does not mean I am always right. There is wisdom in many counsellors (you must select counsellors with the utmost care of course), but at the end of the day, a leader is the one that is responsible. So why the struggle today surrounding leadership (and the accompany vision painting)? Could it be Spock-related? Perhaps. I think so.

Heart Disease

It is the intention of the heart that counts in leaders and followers. What I find in businesses today is that employees have become THE identified enemy (and in a similar fashion in educational institutions, government and families).

Employees, for instance, do take up to 60% or more of our operating budget, so let's kill them all and get machines to do the work. The customer be damned! Who needs customers anyway when we have everything automated nowadays?

Wait did I just say that?

Yes I did.

Is America Lost?

Funnily enough I was born in America, the land of the free and the home of the brave. THE leading country in our world today. Yet, (in my opinion) internal deterioration and fraying of the edges of OUR vision is beginning to show around the world at a time when LEADERSHIP is needed (And I am not a politician nor do I believe in what I am seeing with the blatant commercialisation of politics in America).

When I come home for a visit, having lived overseas for about 18 years, I am saddened to experience what (my friends tell me) is wrong with America, first hand. Where did the "heart" of America go?!!! And how long can/will/should the United States of America maintain its world leadership position at this rate? Who will take the responsibility to make it all better or all go away?

Well the sad news is that it is up to you and me and to those who notice what is going wrong to begin to take stock and take action to make it all better because it will NOT go away! (Wow. I think I should be a speechwriter for some politician.)

The person who wrote me talked about weakness coming through “homogony” and this is a great word (similarity of origin or common descent) as to what is happening. When what we really need is to bring what is DIFFERENT (not the same, not to aim for conformity) together around ONE vision in a way that actually works (shades of The Day the Earth Stood Still).

Blame the Church

Funny, my friend brought up the church (small "c") as part of the problem and he is right (IMHO). The rigidity found in most churches today is brought about to repress questions and creativity and (most of all) personal responsibility (When I was three, Mommy didn't give me a chocolate bar when I wanted it, so I have a perfect excuse for misbehaving today. (Do they teach Freud in the church?)).

FYI: The Bible does NOT support this! The sad fact is that in my experience I have met few people who have actually READ the entire Bible (unless they were forced to (and therefore resisted it as drudgery) and many grew to hate the church and all it represented because of this forced march).

There are even fewer who (if they use the Bible as their template for behaviour) seek to use the principles for their own edification rather than trying to make others conform to their personal interpretation of what is actually there. (Matthew 7:1-5, if you don't have access to a Bible, this is about first take the log out of your own eye before you talk with another about the speck in theirs) and for other purposes than the stated one in Scripture (Matthew 28:18-20 and Acts 1:8 – to share the Good News). And no, I am not a pastor or "religious", but a student of what the Bible says).

Dying for What is Right

Recently, I quoted Patrick Henry, "Give me liberty or give me death," in a discussion about being discriminated against in a new realm, and I still mean it (RL - real life and VL - virtual life or any life!). I am, after all, recognised as the troublesome “drama queen” there (responsible for -- of all things -- passion and role play - a powerful, drama- and incendiary-rich combination, isn’t it?)

Think of me (and I say this with humility and respect for what these two characters stood for) as sort of a Joan of Arc or Braveheart. Foolishly, it seems to most, I must fight for what I see is right for the freedom of those around me who are hurting.

My morning writer said, “rigidity crushes creativity. In dying realms there is safety in knowing that homogeny (conformity to one way of thinking or acting) exists. The result of homogeny is sameness and loss of individuality. Ultimately, Inquisitions and Witch burnings occur from such rigidity."

I have (and perhaps continue to) personally experienced the inquisition (and have many scars and burns to prove it). I have certainly been pilloried and keel hauled a few times so far; even burned at the stake twice (by being banned from a beloved land). Yet, I still stand and hold up the banner of sensitivity and common sense for as long as I have breath. Someone must -- and I have enough ego to think what I do counts for something (anything)!

How’s that for DRAAAAAMA?

If you are my friend, just help hold me or at least hold my hand as I go up the scaffold – please. And do not think I am mad or foolish. I would hope instead to be as wise as a dove and as clever as a fox or for that matter, as clever as Br'er Rabbit in Uncle Remus tales of “Br’er Rabbit”.

Hope Lost

I had flown and waited in various airports for over 18 hours. My friend Allen picked me up when I arrived. We hardly spoke. I could barely speak anyway, having cried most of the trip in the dry, plane air. His hug didn’t registered as he threw my one suitcase into the trunk of the car and sat me in the seat next to him. He held my hand the entire way there.

Nearly an hour of driving and we were there. We entered the building, cool and quiet and smelling of pending death. Allen held me tightly to keep me from falling as we walked to the ICU (intensive care unit). Clearing my identity with the officials in white he gently led to the door of her room.

It was so quiet and seemed foggy. Allen let go of me and said he would wait for me outside. I stepped tentatively across the threshold into the sound of competitive machines pumping and beeping and chiming in some sub-syncopation. I took a deep breath and looked at the large bed standing so lonely in the middle of the large room.

I couldn’t look at the person laying there, knowing the moment I did, I would have to deal with the reality that I had only imagined during the almost 30 hours since my journey began to reach here.

So with my eyes averted, I walked to the far side of the room and pretended to look out the window, knowing she did not know I was here. She was in a deep, drug-induced coma.

I turned back and took my first look.

I can still feel the grip on my heart -- even today. She was so still. I moved closer to her, right up to leaning on the bed rail so I wouldn’t fall over from grief. Every place a needle or tube or monitor pad could be placed it was. There were bruises all over her arms and neck. There was a tube in her nose pumping sustaining substances into her; and a big tube taped carelessly to her face and in her mouth to breathe for her. Worst of all, her eyes were covered with pads and tape as if she was already leaving this world.

I knew people in comas could hear you, sense you and could react to you and I gripped my heart so hard to hold onto the tidal wave of emotions of pending loss so I would not betray my fear of no hope to her.

I reached my hand out to the only island of skin I could find that wasn’t pierced by some needle or covered with a bruise and rested my hand there and crooned to her of my love and that everything would be alright now, because I would make sure it was and that she was not alone. I would not leave her until I took her back to her little unit.

No response. Not even a twitch. I watched. No finger moved. The monitors remained stable. Nothing. She hadn’t heard me. I moved my face closer to hers and spoke again. But she did not seem to have a way to acknowledge me. I was too late…

To be continued….

Reality of the Real

Sometimes when we spend so much time in a virtual world, we can forget to keep a balance with real life. Think of the minutes, hours, days you have missed with family, loved ones and friends. Time is of course linear and it seems finite. So we can’t go back and redeem the time the locusts have eaten away, but we can look around us today -- right now in fact and before it is too late.

Yet, in the virtual world we can and do make real, deep and lasting friends with real people, just as we might if we were depending on letters written by hand on paper sent to us from afar by someone we have never hugged. And it is the hearts of people that we must always keep in mind.

A friend sent me a very wonderful email this morning and I need to share just a few of her precious words with you. This precious friend lives over 10K miles away and is as dear to me as someone who lives next door, yet we have only met in the virtual world. We are both concerned with the trouble in our virtual world lately and here is how she sees things…

“I think the virtual world is the most unstable place I have ever encountered. People throw themselves at you (as if in love) for almost no reason and leave you just as quickly the same way.

“And the pain is far worse than RL (real life) because, when something goes wrong, you lose everything... your whole life on your sim (simulated land or realm you live in). In RL we can at least retreat and lie low in the safety of our homes and maintain the rest of our life when things go wrong.

“In the virtual world you are left with “virtually” nothing. But then, in RL, I don't think people would behave as badly as they do in the virtual world either. Somehow, being without the other aspects of our being... our body language, our facial expressions, our tones of voice... suddenly we are subhuman and not real beings at all.

“Everyday we need to remember that we are real, we feel and we can be hurt. Not many in the virtual world remember that I think. To some, it is no more than a game.”