Monday, April 25, 2005
Why must we analyze and dissect everything?

Can we not just take things as they are? Accept life as it is. Change what we can and pray for what we can't change.

I'm really into this whole accepting things as they are... except I don't, not really. I want to be content with life. However, who really can?

Perhaps the only ones who can answer that is the Enlightened but why would they care? They have accepted life and everything that accompanies it. They have not a care in the world because they are one with the world.

But do the Enlightened experience feelings as passionate as I do? And what is life without passion?

- posted by Julia @ 3:06 AM | | 0 rocks in pond

Saturday, April 23, 2005
Joke Jest Jeapordy

It happened that a fire broke out in the backstage of a theatre.
A clown came out to inform the audience of the danger.
Thinking it a jest, they applauded.
He repeated his warning urgently, they shouted even louder.
So I think it will be in the end - there will be a general applause
from the wits who think it a jest.


How do I explain to you the result of pettiness on a spirit? Do you know? I have a friend who is laying in a hospital bed right now - dying of bone cancer. He is a most loving and happy man of God, suffering with great pain at a young age. Where does pettiness fit into this? Some of you may know him - his name is Greg Martins. He is my cobbler and companion and sage and spiritual wit. He is a musician and comic and artist and craftsman and holy man of God. I am so sad at the thought of his leaving me. I am not sad that he will leave this world; this is not a kind world. I will miss him dearly, but he is not gone yet - he is simply laying in a hospital bed suffering and being denied visitors.


On another note: where have you seen rapture in the abyss of identity? What do you do that is inadvertant? When the soul is transported, the only virtue lies in loving what you see - the supreme happiness, then, is in what you have - not what you desire. It is here that blissful life is drunk at its source. It is here that we will live after our mortality has run its course. Have you been here? I am having my share of moments like this. It has only come just recently and grown like a great oak tree. I have had spurts and hints of it - profuond ones that have changed my life. What I have now is so deep and real and painful and uncertain that it causes me to laugh as I lay down for a rest. It causes me to weep as I realize how unworthy I am of it. I have not had my fill yet. I wish for more flames - of all sorts. Flames that consist of a splendid clarity and an unusual vigor and an igneous ardor. The clarity iluminates - the ardor burns. This fire is both spirit and flesh. It is for the martrye burned at the stake as well as for the union of flesh with flesh.

What suffering have you to tell of? What depth is it driving you to? What love have you found to protect you? I have found love - I must tell you. It is both human and spritual. The question is: what to do with it? One of you at least will have fun finding out. Most of you will too - I am confident of this.

- posted by -g @ 10:28 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Ever once in a while, everybody needs a day where you can say,"I acted as though I won't wake up tomorrow." It's one of those days that gives you an epiphany and you go,"Yeah, I want to do this again." I had one of those days today.

Sometimes, you need to take a nice day down the beach and walk in the sand without shoes. You need a skip stones (or watch a friend skip stones) and procede to swing on swings that are recommended for ages 2-12, but you don't care. Then, you need to curse traffic to hell and back when you're trying to find a bank so you can get out money while listening to the Temptations and singing your heart out.

I can honestly say, it's the greatest feeling in the world.

- posted by Elis @ 7:47 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

A week ago today, I had no homework tonight. The same goes for this night, but what's different is that last Tuesday, I was on an Art field trip in Chicago. The day was beautiful, in the 70s with blue skies and a tempting green park. I love the Chicago Art Institute so a group of friends and I looked for the one part of the museum that upon visiting I had never seen and that was the photography area. Exhibited was photographer Tokihiro Sato. This is one of my favorite prints:

"How did he do that?" one might ask because I know I did. Tokihiro Sato exposed the film for one to three hours at a time. He had about 13 pictures on display so one would figure at least two hours for each picture, only to take it, not to mention processing and enlarging. I know this task very well. It takes me one day (in class) to process and several days after to print my pictures. This was some hard work. When pictures were taken at night, Sato used a flashlight to create the line effect. He also used mirrors to reflect light (during the day) into the camera as to create dots throughout the picture, so it's as if his essence is there, but not to the point you could see it. I would've taken a picture of an example of this, but a security guard told me I couldn't photograph his work. Too late.

And to conclude, I found this interesting at the museum as well:

- posted by Elis @ 9:42 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

Monday, April 11, 2005

For the second time in less than a week, I woke up, got hubby off to work and then the kids off on their school bus, came back home, crawled into bed in my clothing and fell asleep until noon. I am blaming this on the newly increased dose of Buspar in the last week and a half. I slept well last night so I cannot say I was lacking sleep. Buspar is supposed to make me relax and hopefully feel better about life in general. These effects were put to the test in another way last Friday.

Because I turned 40 in February I became eligible for my first mammogram, a general screening covered by insurance at my age now once per calendar year. It went well and I shortly afterwards received a letter saying that all my films appeared fine, nothing to worry about. Last Friday afternoon, and let it be noted that these things always occur on Friday afternoons just after all responsible staff have left the office for a well-deserved weekend, I opened my mail to find a bill for my recent mammogram. Well, that shouldn't be as I am finally at the age where these things are not only necessary, but they are paid for.

I called up our insurance provider and after pushing umpteen million different buttons and listening to recorded menu after recorded menu, I got to the place where you can push '0' to talk to a live human being. Said human was very congenial and listened as I described my problem with the bill. She then said that my computer record did show a note by this date of service and she put me on hold to go and check out what the problem was. After a longer than usual wait, she returned to tell me cheerily that the claim had been improperly coded and had been sent through noted as 'possible malignancy or tumor' instead of 'annual screening' so she would just change that and have it resubmitted for payment by the insurance company. Well, what a relief, at least for those few initial moments when I knew I would no longer be responsible for the $178 charge. Then the thought struck me, oddly, that were I having symptoms or had I found a strange lump in my breast and had I therefore been prescribed a diagnostic mammogram, my insurance would then charge me for that? Is that what she meant? Something seems wrong with this interpretation, but I was too relieved at that initial moment, thinking of nothing more than money, so I said thank you and hung up.

Then another, more chilling thought occurred to me. What if the mistake was not with the billing code? What if the mistake was with Tiffany, the minimum wage office clerk at Mayfair Radiology who was having a bad day and messing things up all over the office? What if she was looking forward to the sound of her boyfriend's motorcycle coming to pick her up those few weeks ago on that first nice weekend of spring back when it was time to mail out my unfortunate letter telling me to please come back in and schedule another more intense screening for my 'possible malignancy or tumor?' What if that motorcycle came rumbling into the parking lot beneath her open window just as she reached into the dreaded file and she accidentally grabbed the letter from the happy file when she had meant in all sincerity to grab the black-death letter from the adjacent file instead? What if she was too preoccupied with her hair and lipstick at that fatal moment to take a really good look at which letter she was now folding into the preaddressed envelope with my name on it? What if all was said and done but these past three weeks since my happy letter arrived were really the only one true window left to me to get back into my doctor?s office, get some surgery or something and make the difference between a few tortured years of failed chemotherapy and a long and fulfilling life?

It was now about time to pick my kids up from the bus stop. I didn't move. I just sat there on the bottom step with the insurance statement still in my hand. Soon there was a knock at the door and the kids were piling into the living room, turning on the television and rummaging the kitchen for snacks. Arthur was starting, so that meant it was 4:00 pm already. I quickly went into the kitchen and looked up the phone number for Mayfair Radiology and gave them a call. The lady who answered the phone also listened to my story politely, then told me that my records were no longer kept there, but maybe the transcription department could help me. They, of course, were no longer here for the week, but if I left a message they could get back to me on Monday. Then she comfortingly said she didn't blame me for wanting to double check. I was transferred and left my message with transcription, trying to sound nonchalant and breezy, certain that it was just a simple billing mistake and not the fated phone call that would forever forward mark the disintegration of my trust in the system medical and young girls named Tiffany worldwide.

After waking up the second time this morning, around 12:02pm, I showered and got dressed to run down to work to pick up more typing. When I got home I brought in the mail and let out the dog. I found a bill, this time from Mayfair Radiology for $178.00. I was about to revisit my fears and pick up the phone, but then I noticed the flashing light on the answering machine. I pushed the button and heard Debbie from Mayfair Radiology assuring me that I had received the proper letter. She gave her apologies for the billing code error and that was that. I left the message on the machine so I could replay it whenever I needed it.

How did my Buspar handle this little test of my nerves? I don't think I can tell, but I lived. Were those two four-hour naps worth it? I enjoyed them, if guilt for lying in bed that long can be pushed aside. I have a good life. I also have a niece named Tiffany. I wonder how she's doing?

- posted by Ann @ 2:51 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

Saturday, April 09, 2005

It is quite important to read the fine print on this one. Posted by Hello

- posted by -g @ 9:13 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

Friday, April 01, 2005

Satan Conquered Posted by Hello

- posted by -g @ 3:01 PM | | 0 rocks in pond


Here it is Emily! I apologize for the lateness and the low quality. You may see another from Ann soon. She is a perfectionist you know. Posted by Hello

- posted by -g @ 1:03 PM | | 0 rocks in pond

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