Big 30... Have a good one Bubba!
In the evening we gathered at the Red Barn for some great music by our friend David Ray and "The String Rays". Ryan played his sax and harmonica with them in the second set. It was a great evening.
Our friend, Mimi and Ryan. What a good egg she is... A lawyer I like (a small universe...)
Dan and Brenda, recovering from the arduous experience of selling their home in Maine, moving their stuff and driving to Georgia, showing us how to do the electric shag. A few more months of sleep and time on the beach and they will be just fine...
David Ray himself...
The street is one lane and an eclectic mix of beach houses among a community of people who have been here since the days of slavery... and their ancestors were themselves slaves. The house on the corner looks like the Adam's Family house of TV fame. The old black woman who lives there is a recluse, does not use electricity, does not show herself outside. Some of the other families have pit bulls chained outside, cars on blocks, houses in need of major repair. It's a fascinating mix of cultures and ethnicities.
Concrete floors painted blue. Cathedral ceilings painted yellow. Fire place. 3 bedrooms and 3 full baths. Very comfortable... Instead of a Christmas tree, we strung lights around the fish sculptures on the wall and the potted plant in the corner.
Sam and Lu have adjusted well.
Screened in back porch...
and a pool out back...
where we spent Christmas day.
A great spot and we will be here until the end of February. Stop by and set a spell...
The last few days have been lots of fun touring the Island, fishing on East Beach, meeting Brenda & Dan, Steve, Mimi, Jay, Gail and Rose, lunch with Jo Anna, walking the dunes, taking in a children's Christmas pagent at church, visiting the bookstore, shopping in the village, driving the golf cart around, basically just vegging out... Sam and Lu are thrilled. So is Connie... (and me too!)
by Bo Lozoff
Bo wrote the following article for the Human Kindness Foundation newsletter at Christmas-time, 1989. It was then included in his 1990 book Just Another Spiritual Book.
Since then, the essay has been widely circulated, though almost always uncredited. Radio commentator Paul Harvey included the piece in his radio program on two occasions, apparently receiving a deluge of calls, mail, and faxes (we hope mostly positive). Now this piece can be found at numerous websites, often edited, and usually listed as, "author unknown." The following is the original letter.
Date: Eternity
From: GOD
To: My Children on Earth
re: Idiotic religious rivalries
My Dear Children (and believe me, that's all of you),
I consider myself a pretty patient Guy. I mean, look at the Grand Canyon. It took millions of years to get it right. And how about evolution? Boy, nothing is slower than designing that whole Darwinian thing to take place, cell by cell and gene by gene. I've even been patient through your fashions, civilizations, wars and schemes, and the countless ways you take Me for granted until you get yourselves into big trouble again and again.
But on this occasion of My Son's birthday, I want to let you know about some things that are starting to tick me off.
First of all, your religious rivalries are driving Me up a wall. Enough already! Let's get one thing straight: These are your religions, not Mine. I'm the Whole Enchilada; I'm beyond them all. Every one of your religions claims there's only one of Me (which, by the way, is absolutely true). But in the very next breath, each religion claims it's My favorite one. And each claims its bible was written personally by me, and that all the other bibles are man-made. Oh, Me. How do I even begin to put a stop to such complicated nonsense?
Okay, listen up now: I'm your Father and Mother, and I don't play favorites among My Children. Also, I hate to break it to you, but I don't write. My longhand is awful, and I've always been more of a "doer" anyway. So all your books, including the bibles, were written by men and women. They were inspired, remarkable people, but they also made mistakes here and there. I made sure of that, so that you would never trust a written word more than your own living Heart.
You see, one Human Being to me -- even a Bum on the street -- is worth more than all the holy books in the world. That's just the kind of Guy I Am. My Spirit is not an historical thing, It's alive right here, right now, as fresh as your next breath.
Holy books and religious rites are sacred and powerful, but not more so than the least of You. They were only meant to steer you in the right direction, not to keep you arguing with each other, and certainly not to keep you from trusting your own personal connection with Me.
Which brings Me to My next point about your nonsense: You act like I need you and your religions to stick up for Me or "win souls" for My Sake. Please, don't do Me any favors. I can stand quite well on my own, thank you. I don't need you to defend Me, and I don't need constant credit. I just want you to be good to each other.
And another thing: I don't get all worked up over money or politics, so stop dragging My name into your dramas. For example, I swear to Me that I never threatened Oral Roberts. I never rode in any of Rajneesh's Rolls Royces. I never told Pat Robertson to run for president, and I've never ever had a conversation with Jim Bakker, Jerry Falwell, or Jimmy Swaggart! Of course, come Judgement Day, I certainly intend to...
The thing is, I want you to stop thinking of religion as some sort of loyalty pledge to Me. The true purpose of your religions is so that you can become more aware of Me, not the other way around. Believe Me, I know you already. I know what's in each of your hearts, and I love you with no strings attached. Lighten up and enjoy Me. That's what religion is best for.
What you seem to forget is how mysterious I Am. You look at the petty little differences in your scriptures and say, "Well, if this is the Truth, then that can't be!" But instead of trying to figure out My Paradoxes and Unfathomable Nature -- which, by the way, you never will -- why not open your hearts to the simple common threads in every religion?
You know what I'm talking about: Love and respect everyone. Be kind. Even when life is scary or confusing, take courage and be of good cheer, for I Am always with you. Learn how to be quiet, so you can hear My Still, Small Voice (I don't like to shout). Leave the world a better place by living your life with dignity and gracefulness, for you are My Own Child. Hold back nothing from life, for the parts of you that can die will surely die, and the parts that can't, won't. So don't worry, be happy (I stole that last line from Bobby McFerrin, but he stole it from Meher Baba in the first place.)
Simple stuff. Why do you keep making it so complicated? It's like you're always looking for an excuse to be upset. And I'm very tired of being your main excuse. Do you think I care whether you call me Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, Wakantonka, Brahma, Father, Mother, or even The Void or Nirvana? Do you think I care which of My Special Children you feel closest to -- Jesus, Mary, Buddha, Krishna, Mohammed or any of the others? You can call Me and My Special Ones any name you choose, if only you would go about My business of loving one another as I love you. How can you keep neglecting something so simple?
I'm not telling you to abandon your religions. Enjoy your religions, honor them, learn from them, just as you should enjoy, honor, and learn from your parents. But do you walk around telling everyone that your parents are better than theirs? Your religion, like your parents, may always have the most special place in your heart; I don't mind that at all. And I don't want you to combine all the Great Traditions into One Big Mess. Each religion is unique for a reason. Each has a unique style so that people can find the best path for themselves.
But My Special Children -- the ones your religions revolve around -- all live in the same place (My Heart) and they get along perfectly, I assure you. The clergy must stop creating a myth of sibling rivalry where there is none.
My Blessed Children of Earth, the world has grown too small for your pervasive religious bigotry and confusion. The whole planet is connected by air travel, satellite dishes, telephones, fax machines, rock concerts, diseases, and mutual needs and concerns. Get with the program! If you really want to help Me celebrate the birthday of My Son Jesus, then commit yourselves to figuring out how to feed your hungry, clothe your naked, protect your abused, and shelter your poor. And just as importantly, make your own everyday life a shining example of kindness and good humor. I've given you all the resources you need, if only you abandon your fear of each other and begin living, loving, and laughing together.
Finally, My Children everywhere, remember whose birth is honored on December 25th, and the fearlessness with which He chose to live and die. As I love Him, so do I love each one of you. I'm not really ticked off, I just wanted to grab your attention because I hate to see you suffer. But I gave you Free Will, so what can I do now other than to try to influence you through reason, persuasion, and a little old-fashioned guilt and manipulation? After all, I Am the original Jewish Mother. I just want you to be happy, and I'll sit in The Dark. I really Am, indeed, I swear, with you always. Always. Trust In Me.
Your One and Only,
GOD
Human Kindness Foundation, PO Box 61619, Durham, NC 27715; (919) 383-5160
Pampass Grass on the waterfront
Look close on the horizon for the two towers of the Jeckyll Island Bridge
Fishing for crab...
We have been working at a local shop and getting some retail experience. Something new and interesting. The owners are Charlotte and Troy Hull, nice folks. It's a neat shop, 3000 sq ft, specializing in clothing and art from 3rd world countries. The company buys direct from artisans in Indonesia, South America, Mexico and Africa, compensating them at a much higher level than if dealing with a middle man. We are there to keep the store open while they are on their annual mission to Peru, working with the poorest of the poor. Glad we can help.
Here are some pics of some of their wares...
December 8th has become a profoundly significant and confusing date for our family. It is significant because it is the date that our son Eric died in an accident in New Zealand in 1999. It is confusing because we don't know how to feel about the commemoration of his loss. We commemorate birthdays, wedding anniversaries, the comimg of each new year, but commemorating the day of a loved one's death does not hold the celebration of a joyous event. Instead, this day brings a vivid memory of the pain of Eric's loss. But it also brings us the hope of something more. A hope that we believe was somehow sent to us from Eric... from the other side. Here is the story for those who might wish to read it.
One of my great joys has been in being a dad. Our children, Eric, Ryan and Katie loved bedtime stories and by the time Kate came along my story telling skills had improved to the point where I actually developed a continuing story line. It was called "The Other Side".
The setting was in our backyard on Country Way and it always began the same way. Kate had come upon a tarnished silver toy horn in her play and had discovered it held mysterious powers. She would walk down the path with her treasure, through the woods to the giant pine tree where the boys had built one of their many cabins and treehouses. Here she climbed down into the cool shade of the old cellar hole under the cabin. When she blew the horn, (which I always imitated with a "ta-ta-da" sound…a favorite and often imitated part.), an invisible door would open in the sheer ledge rockface and she would enter into The Other Side for countless adventures with castles, kings and queens, friendly giants, little people and talking animals. And at the end of each story, "Princess" Katie would come back through the door and up the path to the security of her loving home. Mom would always ask, "Katie, what have you been up to?" and Katie would always smile and say, "Oh, nothing…". Kate loved these stories and often at bedtime, the boys would lay on the floor and listen in.
December 8, 2001. Two years had passed since the day we can never forget. I stayed home from work and awoke before first light. In bed, listening to the sounds of the sleeping house, I simply prayed, "Son, let me know today that you're ok." I don't remember much about the day except that we spent it sitting with our books and our music and with each other. Friends and family called or briefly stopped by. A sad and quiet day.
It was around 5:00 PM when one of the boy's childhood friends, walked through the door. Dan had been away at college so we did not expect to see him. He had come home for something he had to do and had, that day, inadvertantly come upon a photograph which he had no recollection of having taken some ten years before. He and the boys were 10 or 11 at the time and had been playing in the woods. It was a picture of Eric and I thanked him for it as he went out the door and back to school. It wasn't until later that evening when I looked closely at the picture that I realized that my prayer had been answered.
I am a pragmatist by nature. My college degrees are in sciences and I look at the world the way many with my background do. We attempt to understand the Universe and mentally assign a probability to unexplained phenomena. So my reaction was typical. I asked myself;
"What is the probability that this young man, whom we had not seen in over a year, would walk into our home on December 8th and present me with a photograph, lost and forgotten for a decade, of Eric, smiling at me from the precise location of the bedtime storyline doorway to "The Other Side"?"
Our inescapable conclusion was, and is, that this was not a random event. The odds are too huge.
So thank you Eric, for helping us along the path, for opening our eyes to the many gifts, there for each of us if we are awake to receive them… and for the smile.
Love you, son.
