I write to live authentically — “having been” is the surest kind of being, per great sage Viktor Frankl

Usually, to be sure, man considers only the stubble field of transitoriness and overlooks the full granaries of the past, wherein he had salvaged once and for all his deeds, his joys and also his sufferings.

 

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Nothing can be undone, and nothing can be done away with.

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I should say   ”having been”   is the surest kind of being.

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http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2782.Viktor_E_Frankl?page=2

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‘Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.’ “

 
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From “Logotherapy in a Nutshell”, an essay”
Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

 
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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/11/24/sharing-grief-puts-a-healing-distance-between-us-and-the-pain-this-is-why-storytelling-matters/

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sharing grief puts a healing distance between us and the pain — this is why storytelling matters

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Share the suffering. The opportunity to tell the story of our suffering to a compassionate and skillful listener is helpful beyond measure. Simply in the telling and retelling, we begin to shift perspective, to put a healing distance between us and the pain.
 
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Do you have some suffering to do? Here are a few things to remember:

Let the mystery of suffering be the mystery.

Our temptation is to reduce the suffering to something less chaotic and more intellectually manageable. “There must be a reason,” we protest. And so we construct reasons. Often the reasons make us even more miserable.

Turn to the wisdom of symbol and ritual.

Medals of honor, funerals, statues and monuments, ritual mourning, legacy, keepsakes — we are symbolic creatures, and our symbols help us to embrace and transcend our suffering.

Discover redemptive mission.

Many people discover meaning in suffering as they work to redeem their suffering in service to the world. And so the alcoholic becomes an AA sponsor. The mother whose child is killed by a drunken driver becomes an activist with Mothers Against Drunk Driving. The mercenary becomes a naturalist. The victim of child abuse becomes a marriage and family counselor. And so it goes.

Turn suffering to witness.

Sometimes we suffer as a testimony against injustice. We decide to suffer as a way of absorbing the cost of hatred and bearing witness against the insanity of revenge. Or sometimes we willingly suffer for the sake of endurance alone. That is, as a witness to the goodness of life.

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/heartmath-llc/emotional-support_b_2221563.html?utm_hp_ref=gps-for-the-soul&ir=GPS%20for%20the%20Soul

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/christina-patterson/robert-mckee-screenwriting-_b_2183925.html?utm_hp_ref=books&ir=Books

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Why Stories Matter

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He’s the “guru of gurus.” He’s a “master of the form and a servant of the craft.” He’s “legendary,” according to the Washington Post, and “brilliant,” according to Newsday, and “empowering,” according to Movieline. He is, in fact, Hollywood’s “most wanted screenwriting teacher,” and has been for 30 years. “Everything I know about story structure,” says Paul Haggis, the Oscar-winning writer and director of Crash and Million Dollar Baby, “I learned from Robert McKee.”

Some creative writing teachers can name a handful of successes. With Robert McKee, the list goes on and on. There’s Akiva Goldsman (A Beautiful Mind) and Ed Saxon (The Silence of the Lambs) and John Lasseter (Wall-E) and Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo) and Jane Campion (The Piano) and Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings). And then there are the writers for TV. The writers, that is, for The Sopranos, and Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty, and Six Feet Under and Boardwalk Empire and Game of Thrones. These are just some of the 55,000 people, who include Joan Rivers, John Cleese, Russell Brand and David Bowie, who have done a “Story Seminar” with Robert McKee.

The seminar used to take three days, and now takes four. It covers, if his book Story is anything to go by, the elements of story, like structure, setting, genre and character, and the “principles of story design,” like crisis, and climax and resolution. If this makes it sound like a formula, it isn’t. “Anxious, inexperienced writers obey rules,” says McKee in his introduction to the book. “Rebellious, unschooled writers break rules. Artists master the form.”

Four days isn’t much to invest if you’re planning your career as an Oscar-winning writer and director, but it’s quite a lot if you’re a journalist who’s heard a lot about the guy and just wants to see what he’s like. Luckily for me, and about 250 writers — or budding writers — at the Barbican the other day, Robert McKee also sometimes gives talks. This one was part of the London Screenwriters’ Festival’s monthly “London Breakfast Club.” There was coffee. There were croissants. There were a lot of hopes and dreams.

Robert McKee, it was clear from the big photo projected on the stage, and also from the figure who walked up to the lectern, has very bushy eyebrows. For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything else. But when he started speaking, I forgot about his eyebrows, and the second croissant I’d meant to grab but hadn’t, and thought only about the words.

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“Story began,” he said, “the moment Mother Nature and human nature went their separate ways. The first human thought was something like ‘I am’, and the second thought was ‘some day, I shall not be’. As we became aware of the passage of time, and the brevity of it, and the end of it, we quickly became aware that just living does not teach you how to live.”

There is, as Dr. Johnson knew, nothing like death to concentrate the mind, but I hadn’t expected a talk on screenwriting to start with death. From death, it went on to survival, and how the human mind can “rationalise any evil act.” There is, said McKee, “no structural difference between cutting someone up in traffic and cutting off their head.” All of us, he said, are struggling to answer Aristotle’s question about how a human being should “live their life.” Living, he said, “is chaotic and painful,” so human beings began to create stories. Culture, he said, “is our great nest.”

Any of us who read or write know that stories are what we create to make order out of chaos, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the idea presented with such urgency, or power. The challenge, said McKee, was to “create an emotional truth of what it is to be a human being.” There is, he said, a “notion” he finds “repulsive” that stories, or films, are “just entertainment.” Entertainment, he said, was “going into the ritual of story so that time vanishes.” When a society has weak storytelling, he said, “life rots.” We need storytelling to “shine a bright light into the corners of society and express the truth of what it is to be a human being.”

I wish I could tell you everything he said. I wrote down nearly every word. This, it turned out, was about as far from “how to get on in Hollywood” as you could get. This, it turned out, was about how to ditch the careerism, and the cynicism, and the formulas, and write with integrity, and truth. “Are you,” he said, “in love with yourself in the art, or with the art in yourself?”

It was, I told him when we met for a cup of coffee afterwards, like a religious experience. McKee laughed. “It is kind of like my religion,” he said. “I think these people need to be reminded of why they do what they do”. I had thought, I told him, that it might get boring saying the same things all the time, but I could now see how it wouldn’t. McKee nodded. He keeps changing things, he said, and developing new resources, like an online “enterprise” called Storylogue, which gives new lessons on a different aspect of writing every week. “I do not teach people how to do anything,” he said. “I simply teach what is.”

And did he think, I asked, trying to put it as tactfully as I could, that he’d had as much satisfaction teaching people how to write stories as he’d have had if he’d produced the film equivalent of War and Peace? McKee didn’t hesitate. “Yes. There is an understandable point of view about what I do, that I’d rather be a writer, and nobody believes that I’d rather not. I was a successful writer. I made a living. I bought a home in Santa Monica and put a swimming pool in it with the money I made. I saw enough of my work on screen to realise that my talent was clear, but modest, and I would never be Ingmar Bergman. I just came to realise that this was the natural thing to do.”

There seemed, I told him, to be quite a strong moral component to what he does. It seemed, in fact, to be like a vocation. Was it? “Yes. The only meaningful thing,” he said, “is that human beings suffer and anything a human being can do to alleviate the suffering of others is meaningful. Art,” he said, speaking for all true artists, and for everyone who benefits from art, which is pretty much all of us, “softens the sharp edges of life, and helps us get through our lives.”

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inspired by wordsmith Steven Kalas’ reasons for writing    —

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http://www.lvrj.com/blogs/kalas/Art_is_expression_of_self_shared_with_the_world.html

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Art is expression of self shared with the world

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How did I learn to write?    Great teachers along the way, including but not limited to the Hayakawas & Nishiharas of my formative teen years.

Why do I write?   Some people keep a diary. Some people write in a journal. Some people keep meticulous photo albums, chronicling important moments, times, places and people.

I write about my observations and experiences.

If it moves me deeply, it will show up in my written words. If it opens my heart, it will show up in a written format. If it compels me in paradox, if it makes me tremble with humility and gratitude, if it mobilizes outrage or contempt, it will become a written composition. If I fall in love with you, if I despise you, if you bless me, if you hurt me badly enough, don’t be surprised if you end up in a written verse.

If it makes me hope, makes me ache, makes me cry, then I hand it to heaven, where it ricochets off eternity and pours itself into my Jung archetype named Shadow. Then it pours back out into the world.

Shadow has more than once saved my sanity. Maybe even my life.

I write to know myself better.

Here’s a paradox:  Real art is, for the true artist, an act of the purest selfishness, which, because it is pure selfishness, moves out into the world as extravagant generosity.

Selfishness? Yes. A true artist is never first a performer. He/she doesn’t do it for us. The artist is lost in self. For self. Obedient to a voice that cannot be ignored or denied. Art is near hedonism. A naked reveling. It includes suffering, yes, but even the agony is more a masochistic pleasure.

Generosity? Yes. The artist’s brazen and shameless desire to dig so deeply into self produces art that forces us to dig more deeply. To see ourselves more transparently. Art is a cosmic mirror.

Deciding to listen to my Shadow is deciding to see me naked. Though you won’t know that while you’re listening. If my art moves you, then you will see yourself naked. And that’s always a good thing. People come to an artist’s art as a voyeur. But what they spy on, in the end, is themselves.

Does that make me an exhibitionist? I can live with that. It’s a fair cop.

I’ve written much before which never made the trek into our current  internet era. The first one was about nostalgia of love lost. The last one is this composition here. But, as sage Steven Kalas says about his songwriting,  it’s Steven’s song No. 92 that probably would tell you the most about why I write for myself to share with you, the world.

My heroes have always been naked/ Warm in the clothes of their transparent identity/ Maybe we all should be naked/ With nothing to hide there’s no need to pretend not to see

But shame is the name of the master who must be obeyed/ And after a while we learn to like being a slave

The naked man/ He takes a stand/ He lets the people see/ We point and laugh/ We’re taken back/ But freedom lives in authenticity.

Like a lot of songs, it works on several levels at once. On the most personal level, it’s about my passion to live authentically. I don’t always get there, but I respect myself when I try.

On another level, it’s about my admiration of people who do live “nakedly.” Was John Lennon a card-carrying narcissist? Well of course. But I get why he posed naked with Yoko on the album cover of “Two Virgins.” He was trying to crawl out from under the deadly weight of Beatlemania, a fame he sought, created and then rightly abhorred.

And later, I was surprised to discover it’s a song about my spirituality. In Steven’s case, it’s a song about Jesus.

My heroes are those who live naked/ The man that you meet still the man who is there when you leave/ But brave are the ones who live naked/ Most people are hiding and naked is their enemy

Naked is a mirror in which there is no choice but to see/ So we break the mirror and then blame it for making us bleed

The naked man/ He takes a stand/ He lets the people see/ His naked fate/ Humiliate/ What people hate is authenticity.

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Writing is simplicity and contentment    –

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http://www.lvrj.com/blogs/kalas/Playing_with_words_is_fun_as_well_as_meaningful.html

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So, I have come up with three questions. First, why do you write? Second, what inspires you? Third, what do you do to overcome “writers’ block”? — B.F., San Francisco

Why do I write? I write for the same reason people ride roller coasters: It’s a rush. A flow. Movement and rhythm. It’s sensory. Aesthetic.

Words, for me, are like being 8 years old and having a huge bag of Legos. Every day my dictionary contains the same English words, just like every day the bag contains the same Legos. But today I have the chance to assemble them differently! And that’s fun for me.

Why do I write? I write because I love words. I hate jargon, but I love words. Yes, there are a lot of different ways to talk, but words matter.

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The right word can help us apprehend our lives in deeper, more intentional and more meaningful ways.

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There’s a reason the Hebrew verb dabar can mean either “to say” or “to do.” The Hebrew worldview speaks to the power of words: “And God said (emphasis mine), ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”

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Words have a creative force. Until we say “I love you,” there will be something about love that does not yet exist.

Am I a ‘word snob’? Oh, maybe. OK, probably. Dammit, yes! But I don’t think my demeanor is snobbish. More relentless and passionate.

I admire excellence and precision with language. I’m a harsh critic of the way American pop culture lazily conscripts the English language willy-nilly.

Americans tend to think of this — when they think about it at all — as another entitled “freedom.” A creative evolving of language. Most of the time it’s exactly the opposite. We broaden, distort and thereby cheapen the meaning of important words. This undermines meaningful discourse.

In the end, it’s worse than merely me not understanding what you mean to be saying; you no longer can accurately apprehend your own experience with anything like clarity and meaning.

For me, there is only one dictionary: The English Oxford Dictionary. Why? Because it alone is willing to guard the power and meaning of the English lexicon.

If I step out on my front porch, and shout “Labeedoowitz” loudly enough, the word “labeedoowitz” will show up in the next printing of the Rand McNally Dictionary.

OK, that’s hyperbole. But, I swear, coin the word “labeedoowitz” in a hit Broadway musical, and it will indeed be automatically included in the dictionary your son and daughter take to college.

I want to chase people to the dictionary. Regularly. I don’t apologize for using important words when just the right word matters.

I love it when I hear a new word. I interrupt people, right there on the spot. I say, “Ooh, I don’t know that word!” That’s a rush for me. A delicious feeling in my brain.

Why do I write? I write because I’m a compulsive communicator who loves to think out loud. Critical thinking turns me on. I like building an argument the way little boys like Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and Erector Sets.

I even have fun when the argument collapses. My best friends will tell you that I flat out love being wrong. Yep, when someone puts a finger clearly and accurately on the flaw in my argument, my brain stem hums as if I’d just bitten into a vanilla creme chocolate. If your argument can derail my argument, then I’m like a little kid with a new toy! I’ll race back home with your argument. Take it apart. Put it back together. Play with it. Integrate into my worldview, now changed.

Bring me a good argument, and I’ll ask you to marry me. (Uh, metaphorically speaking. I am so off the market.)

What inspires me? Life. Love. Tragedy. Suffering. Redemption. Evil. Beneficence. Truth. Beauty. Moral dilemmas. Mystery. The human journey inspires me, in virtually any form or circumstance.

What do I do to overcome “writers’ block”? Two things. First, I surround myself with deadlines imposed by others in authority over me. I’m inherently lazy. Not much of a self-starter. Without deadlines, I tend to sit around congratulating myself for thinking about all the brilliant things I could write. The thing that best “jump starts” my most creative self is the high expectations of others, especially if I have contractual obligations with them.

Second, I overcome “writers’ block” by writing. It’s like pumping the pump handle on a reluctant well. At some point I stop saying, “When I get a worthy idea, I’ll start writing.” No, I just sit down and start banging the keys, until a worthy idea shows up.

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-morley/writing-tips-6-ways_b_1591232.html#s1088091&title=Workshops_work

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We are born writers in the sense that we are born storytellers. Language is who we are to the world.  Our ability to tell our story with clarity and panache will make the difference between being heard and being ignored.

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We like to think that artistic genius, at least, feeds on solitude. It is not uncommon for new writers to worry that they will become less distinct, less original, if they spend too much time sharing ideas with their peers. But consider the case of Jorge Luis Borges. When he went to Europe as a young aspiring poet, he found his feet (and an education) in the tertulias of Madrid. Returning to his native city of Buenos Aires, he continued the habit. The almost nightly conversations he had with Adolfo Bioy Casares and other writers fed directly into his writing, and into theirs. If Latin America literature then went off in a direction not yet possible in Europe and North America, it is largely thanks to this unruly group of literary hybrids, who drew as much inspiration from Edgar Allen Poe and G.K. Chesterton as they did from Shakespeare and Verlaine. They gave each other the courage to be break conventions, question received ideas, and imagine the unimaginable.       – Maureen Freely
 
 
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Write, firmly believing that imagination is the quintessential self/the quintessential way of “knowing” the world. This imaginative knowing has the potential to dispel barriers that isolate individuals and communities. Exercising imaginative “knowing” allows, always, for a potentially transcendent narrative, that is trans-global, trans-cultural and speaks to our common humanity.    – Jewell Parker Rhodes
 
 
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http://www.pccs.va/index.php/en/news2/attualita/item/787-suspense-novelist-writes-about-people-finding-hope-redemption

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Koontz acknowledges he has “a very low boredom threshold” and wants to be entertained by what he writes.   He says he’s been asked, “I want you to write a book that’s very dark and very noir and everybody dies in the end and there’s no meaning to anything.” To which he replies, “You don’t need me to do that. It’s everywhere.”

“That’s not what I do,” Koontz said. “I write about people trying to find hope and redemption in their lives from suspense.”

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alan-watt/why-we-write_b_2411000.html

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Why We Write

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By approaching our writing from this perspective we take our thumb off the scale, and in doing so make conscious what was previously unconscious.

And that is the goal of story: to make meaning out of a set of events.

Growth is painful. To make a choice involves discomfort, because it demands that we take responsibility. But it also means that we get to live in reality. To create from a place of fantasy, of groundlessness, is an escape — which is different than losing ourselves in our work by shedding our ego for a deeper connection to our humanity.

Why we write is more important than what we write because our reason for writing influences the content of our work. It is important to remember that we don’t have to do this. The world is not in a rush for more books. There are more great works of fiction, poetry, memoir, history and pumpkin soup recipes than we will ever have time to consume.

 

If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work has a chance to live. In expressing ourselves, we make what we write essential, if only to ourselves, and by beginning from this place, it has a chance to affect the world.

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“He doesn’t look the same now anyway…”

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jennifer-rosen/communication_b_1951897.html?utm_hp_ref=gps-for-the-soul&ir=GPS%20for%20the%20Soul

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Suddenly, my mom and aunt started arguing about whether or not to bury my grandpa with his glasses. My aunt (and I’m paraphrasing here): “He always wore glasses. When people think of him, they think of him wearing glasses.” My mom: “But what’s the point? Why not donate them to someone who could actually use them?” My aunt: “But he doesn’t look the same without his glasses.” My mom: “But he doesn’t look the same now anyway.” And so it went. This argument spawned a host of other arguments until the mounting tension left me feeling incredibly hot. On the verge of passing out, I kept rolling up my sleeves to experience some relief from the heat. I was so uncomfortable and so exhausted from the weeks of sitting vigil at my grandfather’s side. Without even realizing what I was doing, I stood up and emitted this guttural, primal scream that shook my body to its core.

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The bickering instantly stopped; my family became speechless. If not for my lava burst, you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone looked at me like I was some untamed creature who hadn’t yet mastered the fine art of civility and refinement. I saw myself as a stranger in their eyes. My mom quickly regained her power of speech: What are you thinking? You’re scaring the neighbors. They’re going to call the police. My poor grandma, whom I most certainly did scare, kept repeating: “Why did she do that?” I could feel my face turning beet red. Why did I do that? I ran out of the apartment feeling utterly humiliated and misunderstood and, for the first time that day, released the tears over my grandfather’s death that had been holed up inside of me for the past couple of weeks.

This experience may have been a bit heightened, but it made me realize that my communication skills were probably in need of improvement. I didn’t want to be the sort of person who squelches my feelings until they built up inside of me to the point of explosion. I didn’t want to be the sort of person who scares the neighbors (or even myself). If I had simply expressed my frustration with the bickering, I could have avoided bursting at the seams as I did.

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Remarkable that one’s experiences span a century or more, if one is lucky enough to live into old age.       My uncle Masaaki 1903-1970 was 50 years older than me.    My grandson Silas is 50 years younger than me.    Uncle Masaaki is a century older than Silas.     My life experiences span a century between Uncle Masaaki and my grandson Silas.    Gatz!    Defy Father Time??

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Of course, one can stretch even longer life’s time span   –   my grandma [Uncle Masaaki’s & my dad’s mama] Tome was 70 years older than me.     I’m just short of age 60, so my lifeblood youngest progeny is my youngest grandchild, my granddaughter Maya, who is 59 years younger than me.     Not equidistant, but 130 years separate my grandma Tome from my granddaughter Maya.     

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Actor William Demarest 1892-1983 was 60 years older than me, thus meeting the equidistance measure, with my granddaughter Maya being 60 years younger than me — the total span being 120 years from William Demarest [or my uncle Bill Cappy Chun, also born in Demarest’s time] to my granddaughter Maya.      Here is prolific vaudeville/longtime character actor Demarest  –

William Demarest Picture
 

William Demarest(1892–1983)


Born in St. Paul, Minnesota, William Demarest was a prolific actor in movies and TV, making more than 140 films. Demarest started his acting career in vaudeville and made his way to Broadway. His most famous role was in My Three Sons, replacing a very sick William Frawley. Demarest was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Supporting role in the real-life biography…See full bio »

Died:

December 28,     1983         (age 91) in        Palm Springs, California, USA

 
Still of Humphrey Bogart and William Demarest in All Through the NightStill of Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre and William Demarest in All Through the Night
 
 
 
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Of course, last year’s 60th year Diamond Jubilee with majestic Queen Elizabeth had the most amazing aerial displays    –
 
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but let’s also  remember lusty [yes, con todo mi alma y corazon] Victoria‘s Diamond Jubilee in 1897  [my grandparents were hormonal teens bent on pioneering East to the Hawaiian islands of silk & honey][Victoria is current Queen Elizabeth’s great great grandmother][our greatest modern Hawaiian statesperson Pi’ehu Iaukea 1855-1940 pilgrimaged to England for this tremendous occasion — Pi’ehu was preceded in great diplomacy & leadership by Kamehameha III Kauikeaouli 1813-1854]
 
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Thence, my immigrant grandparents’ odyssey East transcended both Victoria’s & current Queen Elizabeth’s reigns –   my ojisans/obasans [tutus] experienced both divine queens in all their soulful reigns   – 115 years  [Victoria in 1897 & Elizabeth’s 2012 jubilee] spanning 3 centuries [1800s to 2000s]!!!    Wow!!
 
 
 
 
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I was 20 when my daughter was born, 40 when my oldest grandchild/mo’opuna kane was born, 50 when my middle grandson was born [among 5 grandchildren, 3 boys, 2 girls], and nearly 60 when my youngest grandchild/mo’opuna wahine was born.    

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My parents whom I worship and miss dearly were 40 years older than me.    My mature parents were tutus/grandparents to me in age chronology, & I am blessed by their mature wisdom/magnanimity & composure/equanimity.   

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 My parents died 15 years ago 4 months apart [coincidence  — Mom died of a stroke/Dad died 4 months later from cancer].

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I felt like a grandchild blessed with the most loving & supportive tutus/grandparents in the world, though when I was a barefoot plantation toddler here in Wainaku [Ha’aheo Elem. School atop Kamehameha the Great’s most beautiful pu’u/hilltop]  — I felt terribly embarassed that my parents were fuddy-duddy oldsters vs. my village kid peers’ parents, and that my mom worked, so that I never came home to a homemaker mom who had cookies laid out for me on the kitchen table in our old plantation mill camp.    

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When my parents died 15 years ago, I suddenly crossed over to be a tutu/grandparent to my burgeoning mo’opuna/grandkids.     My grandparents 70 years older than me had died by the time I was born.

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I don’t remember being a child [in a most blessed sense], but undeniably I was blessed/gifted [of the spirits?  Cor./Romans/Ephesians/Peter/etc.] as a grandchild would be, with my dearest parents who were like grandparents to me in wisdom/countenance.    

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Nor do I remember being a parent [my daughter who is approaching middle age at 40  — laughingly tells me that I was a lousy party animal parent but above all else  — I loved my daughter more than anything/anyone in the whole wide world  — and this is the only thing which counted for my daughter, which is/means everything to her!!].    

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But now here I am as a grandparent [by default  — ha ha  ha — still a party animal], and wow, time flies, baby! !!

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And now I am by default/pied piper via hedonism/elan tutu again to 2 dearest “hanai”/emotional attachment — mo’opuna  — Colton age 27 & Jill age 22, grandkids to me in age chronology!   I ask Colton how may I be of service to him/Jill, & Colton shoots back, “Don’t!   Just be you!”    Gatz!   Who am I????   [ha ha    ;-)    ]   

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Foggy bottom, baby   — is my head — spinning like a top???!!    Ha ha!   Dig my hero George Harrison’s video   –   [40 years from age 20 to 60 for me  — go by in the blink of an eye!!][Maui resident Harrison died of cancer at age 58 after 9/11 & a year after this You Tube video was produced] 

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Yes, I hope to make it to age 80 & still feel like a passionate teenager in love!!   Ha ha ha!!        Enjoy [the treats below], baby!!!

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Age is a   figment of our imagination     — our core being is   ageless!       –

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See especially timeclock 4:19 to 5:05 of youtube below about Harrison’s opinion on aging as soulfully deepest youth enjoyed  –

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uVnKjv4fK0&feature=related

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosophy_of_suicide#Liberalism

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Forms of Existentialist thinking essentially begin with the premise that life is objectively meaningless, and proceed to the question of why one should not just kill oneself  –   they then answer this question by suggesting that the individual has the power to give personal meaning to life  and to death by taking one’s own life  [killing oneself].

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But my pal Puerto Rican Frankie Boreliz born 1946, without even a formal grade school education, presciently and prophetically says that a suicidal person suffering from immense loss [of a loved one] needs encouragement and comfort and a re-building of self-respect and self-confidence.  

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Frankie wanted to kill himself after his wife continuously committed adultery with other men, but through the help of Frankie’s psychiatrist Dr. Bloomgarden — Frankie was able to restore Frankie’s self-respect.  

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Frankie’s baby brother Roy did not fare fortunately  — Roy OD’d on painkillers after Roy’s wife left Roy  — and Frankie laments till this day that if only Frankie & others could have carried Roy — literally — and held and comforted Roy  — Roy would be alive and joyful today!!    So sad.   Ohhh so sad  …..

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_wmS9DleJ4

[melody from Minuet in G major — J.S. Bach’s Notebook for Anna Magdalena Bach]

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-debbie-magids/happiness-tips_b_2137013.html

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Beating the Blues

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It’s very hard to stay “blue” 24 hours a day, seven days a week. People have to work hard to do that, which is good news. You have the power — even if you’re experiencing the blues — to get relief if you want it.

Most of the time, you can help yourself beat the blues by pushing forward into action versus waiting for the blues to officially end. There are three themes when it comes to ridding yourself of the blues. Each one has a goal — for you to find the place inside that remembers the joy of life and brings out your passion. Within each theme, there are activities you can do to help get you there. Do what speaks to you the most.

Theme #1: Activities that touch your soul. These are things that are solely about your internal experience. These activities will help you start to feel alive inside. Experience live music by seeing concerts, dance, sing (or even go to a karaoke night), go to church or attend another religious of your choosing. Do whatever you know you used to enjoy before the blues set in.

Theme #2: Activities that get your creativity flowing. Feel like you’re contributing parts of yourself to the world. This can be very healing. Activities here could be creating a great meal for a loved one or yourself, painting, poetry, scrapbooking, or putting together a photo album. These activities can even be a shared experience with someone else (whether doing them together or sharing the finished product with someone). This will give you a connection to others as well, which is a great way to combat the blues.

Theme #3: Activities that focus on others versus allowing you to remain focused on yourself. Staying down is perpetuated by the constant attention and focus we put on our negative feelings. Helping others really shifts our focus. It’s the ultimate way to feel better. Listen to a friend and help them out, visit a sick relative (or someone who’s elderly and needs company), or volunteer — with children, animals, for the park, or for the environment — in whatever way appeals to you.

There is one thing that can be part of all the above — laughter. There is scientific evidence that confirms that when we’re laughing, it’s more difficult for us to feel down. So go to a comedy club, watch your favorite sitcom, or hang with the friend who makes you laugh the most.

Final Thoughts:

    • Connecting with others always helps, so doing the above activities with someone would be great. Even just going for a walk with someone can be very helpful.
  • The blues do pass. Stay hopeful; whatever is getting you down won’t last. You will come out of the bad feeling.

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-nepo/act-of-kindness_b_2192739.html?utm_hp_ref=gps-for-the-soul&ir=GPS%20for%20the%20Soul

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Welcome!  Of Course You Can Come Here!

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The life of care and kindness often has the life of a seed. It might be planted by someone we never know or someone we learn of long after the kindness has been received. This is a story about such a kindness.

Of Course You Can Come

When a friend’s brother-in-law passed away, her sister had a call while preparing for the funeral. It was a Jewish woman living 300 miles away who asked if she could attend the funeral. Her sister was taken aback, not by the request, but by the surprise of how far her husband’s life had reached. She said, “Of course you can come, but please, tell me, how did you know Sam?”

The Jewish woman spoke with a tremble through a thick German-Yiddish accent. “I read in his obituary that he was one of the first three soldiers to liberate Dachau at the end of the war.” There was a pause, “I was a little girl then, weighing only 28 pounds, naked and limping. I was shot in the foot for taking some water.”

There was another pause. “When those three soldiers entered the camp, we were stunned. And seeing us children, naked and starving, they took off their shirts and covered us.”

They both fell into a deep silence. The Jewish woman continued. “I always wanted to thank them, but never knew who they were.” And so the little girl from Dachau drove 300 miles to stand at the dead soldier’s grave and embraced his widow.

How are we to understand a story like this? Does it tell us that acts of kindness and the gratitude they engender outlast decades and oceans and continents? Does it tell us that kindness, like the song of a red bird, will be answered long after the bird has died? Does it tell us that the smallest effort to restore dignity can save a soul from degradation? Yes. Yes. Yes. Like the one bead of light, after weeks of light, that causes a flower to finally open, the bead of kindness that is compelled from us, against all reservation, will open more things than we may ever know.

A Question to Walk With: Tell the story of a kindness you learned of long after it was given.

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/12/15/an-ennobling-sufferance-living-life-to-the-fullest/

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http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2782.Viktor_E_Frankl?page=1

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The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day.

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On the other hand, the [optimist] person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back.

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He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest.

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What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old?

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Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him?

‘No, thank you,’ he will think.

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/because-in-the-end-great-journeys-of-integrity-are-walked-alone-sage-steven-kalas/

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/12/08/having-been-is-the-surest-kind-of-being-extraordinary-sage-viktor-frankl-only-then-through-the-power-of-using-the-past-for-living-and-making-history-out-of-what-has-happened-does-a-pe/

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Irony is that I have no history  –  deleted/erased/purged via rejection/elimination  –  forsaken & forgotten   –   

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But especially Frankl & Nietzsche [along with Emerson] intone that though rejection and a forsaken predicament certainly are not envied, these outcome sufferings constitute the ennobling of character and self-respect

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To reprise the exceptional Frankl   – 

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‘Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.’ “

 
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From “Logotherapy in a Nutshell”, an essay”
Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

 
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http://www.lvrj.com/living/34953354.html

What actually is depressing is living ever-cautiously, ever-carefully, ever-piously, making sure never to fail, making sure that no one has a complete picture of you, setting up your lifetime so that you never have to entrust your heart to anyone.

Making sure that no one ever hurts you. Making sure no one can.

What actually is depressing is the endless self-massaging rehearsal of why it is that I am forced to settle. Why others, sure, they can be happy. And I would be happy if I were as lucky as they … but, let me recite (again) why I am precluded from choosing my deepest happiness.

I’m reading my youngest “The Velveteen Rabbit”: It is a story about death. About how love transforms us. Crucifies us.

“Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all the little Rabbit cared about. He didn’t mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn’t matter.”

Depressing is lying in hospice knowing that you never gave yourself the chance to “become real,” because you decided never to trust anyone to really, truly love you.

When I’m dying in hospice, I very much don’t want to say, “Wow, I’m so proud to tell you that I spent the last 84 years being certain, and safe, and cautious, and careful.”

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incredibly soulful lover Nietzsche   –

http://thoughtjam.wordpress.com/2007/09/12/nietzsche-on-the-use-and-abuse-of-history-for-life/

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Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “that, in the process by which the human being, in thinking, reflecting, comparing, separating, and combining . . . inside that surrounding misty cloud a bright gleaming beam of light arises, only then, through the power of using the past for living and making history out of what has happened, does a person first become a person.”

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http://www.randomhouse.com/features/forgetting/read_first2.html

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In Frankl’s memoir of experiences as a concentration camp inmate. Frankl recalled trying to lift the spirits of his fellow camp inmates on an especially awful day in Dachau: “I did not only talk of the future and the veil which was drawn over it. I also mentioned the past; all its joys, and how its light shone even in the present darkness. [I quoted] a poet . . . who had written, Was Du erlebst, kann keine Macht der Welt Dir rauben. (What you have experienced, no power on earth can take from you.) Not only our experiences, but all we have done, whatever great thoughts we may have had and all we have suffered, all this is not lost, though it is past; we have brought it into being. Having been is a kind of being, and perhaps the surest kind.”

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Ralph Waldo Emerson was also fascinated by memory–how it worked, why it failed, the ways it shaped human consciousness. Memory, he offered about a decade or so before his own troubles first appeared, is “the cement, the bitumen, the matrix in which the other faculties are embedded . . . without it all life and thought were an unrelated succession.”

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/mission-provide-a-context-of-meaning-safety-and-encouragement-in-which-to-assess-oneself-though-painful-learn-celebrate-human-wholeness-and-authenticity-sage-steven-kalas/

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/8066867.html

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/12/13/true-faith-is-a-context-for-suffering-sage-steven-kalas/

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True faith is a context for suffering — sage Steven Kalas

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/9279656.html

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/10174701.html

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Great journeys of integrity are walked alone

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When another man’s life forces you to behold your own smallness, all you have to do is retro-narrate pathologized stories about him. Just like that, your world is a safer, happier place.

Your friends who are simply gone? You force me to behold, J.K., something I hate to think about: All great journeys of integrity are ultimately walked alone. The archetypal picture here is probably Jesus, whose friends agreed to accompany him into the garden of Gethsemane that night to pray. Jesus is scared. Anxious. Asking God if there isn’t some other way. He looks to his friends for support and encouragement.

And they are sound asleep. And Jesus asks a rhetorical question into the silent night air: “Will no one stay awake with me?”

As a matter of fact, no. Tonight Jesus will suffer, and he will suffer alone.

How to maintain some sense of respect and optimism for humanity? I can only tell you what I do.

When I’m feeling low, when I’ve lost track of why I keep putting one foot in front of the other, when I am sick and tired of paying the price for living out values about which no one else appears to have much if any investment, when I can no longer argue with Protestant theologian John Calvin who used the word “depraved” to describe the essential nature of human beings …

… well, J.K., that’s when I think of people like you [who suffers alone in ennobled integrated fashion to care for his incapacitated wife].

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/9380491.html

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Mystery surrounds deep connections we make with others [making friends with “Alone”]

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An old friend writes from far away. Oh, not that old. She’s 48. I mean we’ve been friends a long, long time.

There’s this bond between us. A connection. I felt it the first time we spoke, which is funny because the first thing she ever communicated to me was disdain. I was 23, so I reached into my repertoire for managing repartee with beautiful women and selected “boyish cockiness” for my retort.

When you’re 23 and male, boyish cockiness is pretty much the extent of your repertoire.

But that was it for us — bonded. A connection that has survived time together, protracted times apart, even years of no communication whatsoever. The friendship has survived love affairs — not with each other — marriages and becoming parents. We’ve been drunk together. And sober. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen her cry.

She was 20 when I met her. Once, on a whim, she sent me a picture of herself at age 5. I smiled. Somewhere inside myself I knew her then, too. Recognized her. In some alternative past, she and I played together in a sandbox (until she made me cry because she was so bossy). Like the bond between us contains secret passages that defy time and space.

She writes to me: “I get you, Steven Kalas.”

Her words strike me like thunder. Truly awestruck, like the way you fall into a spectacular sunset, or the way you stop breathing when you’re standing in a barn at 2 a.m. watching the birth of a calf. I’m focused in a point of time, staring at my monitor. It’s like she’s right here. Right now. I have a friend who gets me. She sees me. I jumble a few words and she says, “Oh yeah.” She not only understands, but understands why and how things matter to me.

Amen.

Then I have this other friend. Or did. Or thought I did. Could’ve sworn we were friends. Soul mates. Years we were friends. Across passion and victory and folly and failure. Across celebration and loss. This friend knows me. And doesn’t know me at all.

We’re not connected anymore.

And I know as much about why we’re no longer connected as I do why I’m still connected to the other friend. Which is to say I don’t know anything at all. And I’ve been railing against the disconnection, like, if I protest loudly and long enough, my erstwhile friend will snap out of it and be connected to me again.

I’ve decided to stop railing. Sad, yes. Probably sad forever. But pounding on it serves all the purpose of pounding on a grave. Why would I look for the living among the dead?

See, both connections and disconnections deserve the same responses. Awe. Respect for the mystery. Even I, a man who believes his gifts and his calling to be teaching people how to be in relationship — well, I can’t tell you much of anything about why some connections happen and some connections don’t happen and still others disintegrate.

The most terrible thing my therapist ever said to me was also the most important: “Steven, we’re alone. No one has anyone.”

Yikes-oi. (Sorry. This sort of thing happens when a GoyBoy tries to express himself forcefully in Yiddish.)

I hated what she said. Railed against it. Argued with it. She had thrown existential sand into the gas tank of my fine-tuned DeLorean of delusion. And my pricey car would go not one mile farther.

My therapist was right. And, as with every other time when she is right,

it’s time for me to grow up. We’re alone. No one has anyone.

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Strangely, this new truth, while initially a scalpel slashed across my chest without anesthetic, did not burden and depress me for long. Surrender to separateness and aloneness quickly began to create a new space in me. A space for … for …

… relief. A kind of peace. And, most precious, gratitude and humility. Relationship is a grace. A kind of miracle. Human communion emerges as a gift. An unmerited joy. Yes, there are ways of living more conducive to forging and maintaining lasting relationships than other ways of living. I’m not saying there’s nothing we can do. Just that, in the end, I no longer think I have earned or deserved the people who stand in the inner circle of my life.

I just give thanks.

We’re alone. No one has anyone. Human beings cannot be possessed. They cannot be apprehended. They can only be respected and enjoyed. Or respected and bid farewell. Relationship is mystery.

Who really sees you? Who gets you? If you need more than one hand to count those people, you are rich beyond your dreams.

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/living-authentically-a-challenge-worth-embracing-89350462.html

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The more practiced you become at living authentically, the more often you’ll have to make friends with Alone.

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If you take seriously a commitment to authentic selfhood, you find that you regularly must sacrifice belonging. Living authentically includes regular renegotiations of how we belong to family. In some extreme cases, whether we will belong to family at all. Likewise, adjustments in friendships, and sometimes distancing and even discarding friendships.

There are journeys of selfhood and wholeness that must be walked alone.

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Individualism as ego overpride is not the solitary reflection of an authentic life   –

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http://www.lvrj.com/view/steven-kalas-we-are-individuals-in-consequential-relationships-162688016.html

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/culture-s-approach-to-suffering-only-prolongs-pain-129608658.html

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And, for those kinds of sufferings/losses that can never be entirely healed, to bear it. To find meaning in it.  To turn that suffering into some transformative work in the world.

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And the truth is this: The human journey includes suffering. No one comes to ask for help who isn’t suffering.

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But, here’s another truth: In any given time in your life, the number of people who actually, really, honestly want and are willing to grant you an engaged and healing audience for your suffering/loss  is      …       small!!     Or nonexistent!!    

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Even people who sincerely love and adore you might find themselves ambivalent about really engaging and listening to the part of you that suffers. See, the people around us have egos, too. Their egos mobilize to protect them just like your ego does. “Cheer up … get over it … God has a plan … everybody is doing the best he or she can … don’t cry” — the felt motive for these messages is to help you.

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But each of these messages also contains the anxiety of the messenger:  Please stop bothering and disturbing me by suffering.

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And that’s what most modern people do. They try to stop suffering. They “get over it.” They build layer upon layer of pretense and persona over their wounds, because it’s, well, the sociable thing to do. Most of us, then, suffer unconsciously. Because that’s the way we’ve been taught to suffer.

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http://www.lvrj.com/living/9146411.html

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Lots of people don’t want to be present to sadness — their own or anyone else’s. Other people would like to be present to their bereaved friends and family, but don’t know how.

We live in a culture where grief is treated as a disease to be “cured,” or a weakness cursed of shame or self-loathing.

Contrarily, grief is the holiest of human journeys.

One of my favorite Friedrich Nietzsche quotes is, “Everything holy requires a veil.” Now, modern Americans might think he means that we should keep things covered up because those things are shameful. Nope. He means that some things are so beautiful, so huge, so powerful, so naked, so intimate, that to gaze casually upon them would be injurious to their meaning and value. Injurious ultimately to us.

Grief is such a thing.

I concur with your observation that people around us are largely inept at befriending us in grief. Yet I also encourage people like you to remember to veil (protect and value) their grief. Keep the circle of confidants small. Pick two and no more than five people who will hear the depths of your pain.

There are two ways to read your question at the end. Literally you ask how you might numb the heartache. But I’m guessing you aren’t being literal. In fact, it’s not a question at all, is it? It reads more like an indignation. Like, how dare anyone ask you to numb the heartache! How dare the medical community suggest drugging your bereavement!

See, J.R., you know how precious your sadness is. A breathless, crushing burden, yes. But precious.

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Word play:   “for the sake of ” is the opposite of “forsaken”   – 

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The Wordbook dictionary states that “forsake” is derived from an Old English word “forsacan.”    “for” means “completely” and “sacan” means “deny.

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https://curtisnarimatsu.wordpress.com/2012/08/17/alienation-i-dont-belong-and-estrangement-getting-dumped-because-i-dont-belong/

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alienation [I don’t belong] and estrangement [getting dumped because I don’t belong]

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Alienation & estrangement   –  the results of Loss  [e.g. getting dumped]  by your beloved  [lifemate/soulmate]   

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http://www.lvrj.com/blogs/kalas/_Retirement_leaves_time_for_pondering_self_relationships.html

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Question: What do all people seeking release from personal despair have in common?

Answer: They are suffering some combination of alienation and estrangement.

Alienation means a crisis of belonging. We are alien. We don’t belong.

Estrangement means the painful disruption of the bonds of relationship. Interpersonal injuries and injustices. To become estranged is to become a stranger to the one we love and by whom we are loved.

I’m saying your use of the word “misfit” sounds like a crisis of alienation and estrangement.

Actual A&E: Important relationships sometimes unravel (become estranged). Sometimes, the cause is egregious injury done to the other. Other times relationships just unravel. Some people are actually alienated by society.  Old people, gay people, poor people, Fierce Truth-tellers — some people are quite deliberately excluded in whole or in part from belonging.

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great wordsmith Bradley Stephens on Les Miserables   — sobering yet soaring  —

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bradley-stephens/finger-pointing-and-flag-_b_2345226.html?utm_hp_ref=books

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Finger Pointing And Flag Waving: What Does Les Misérables Stand For

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Such reactions might have done well to remember comments made by George Sand after Hugo sent her a signed first instalment of the novel. ‘You are not simply the wicked Dante creating Hell’, she wrote to her old friend, ‘but also the wise Virgil showing us the way to Heaven’. In effect for Sand, Hugo instinctively understood that life is a mesh of harsh reality and human hope. Facts and feelings, the prosaic and the poetic, could not be disentangled from one another in order to focus on one strand alone. Hence the role of the artist was to explore these knots of truth rather than unpick them into something more comfortable or smooth for the reader.

Hugo was motivated by the realization that what defines us is, ultimately, the freedom that comes from being part of the universe’s creative nature: the transformative energy of all life which converts day into night and night into day. Through this natural ‘flux and reflux’, which he likened to the movement of the ocean, all of us are made indeterminate.

The contrasts between convict and hero, misery and resilience, tragedy and triumph, are blurred and ever-shifting, and it is this recognition which both empowers Jean Valjean and overwhelms his nemesis Inspector Javert. Thirty-five years before Les Misérables appeared, and when he was about to conquer the literary scene with works like The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, a young Hugo had looked to Shakespeare, Dante, Milton, and Cervantes for inspiration in channelling this diversity of human life into his poetry, plays, and fiction.

He decided that art’s power lay in its capacity not to fix the world in place but to dramatize its endless transformations as the sign of a natural, even metaphysical, freedom. As an arch-Romantic living in the shadow of the French Revolution, Hugo believed that no society could be truly democratic unless its art was mindful of this vigour. This is why Les Misérables interweaves the social and spiritual threads of human life, creating an experience at once gritty and grand. The story is necessarily both sobering and soaring so as to draw us into the exhausting yet exhilarating nature of what it means to be human in a boundlessly creative world.

That meaning was especially urgent in Hugo’s mind when he published Les Misérables. In condemnation of the Second Empire and its ruler, Napoleon III, Hugo was entering into the second decade of a nineteen-year exile in the Channel Islands and was confirming his status as an icon of Republicanism.

Set between 1815 and 1833, his new novel anticipated the exploitative egotism of France’s new regime since its inception in the 1850s. The sewers of Paris into which Valjean plunges to escape the barricade symbolize both the moral filth and hidden human waste of a financially evolving society obsessed with self-worth and material gain. When the grandfather of the novel’s student hero Marius bemoans the rottenness of France’s bankers and industrialists as the ugly truth beneath an alluring veneer of wealth, the country’s literary grandfather was making his own voice heard. As long as self-interest determined social attitudes and injustice overpowered equality, to recall Hugo’s preface, the dehumanisation of men like Valjean, the degradation of women like Fantine, and the abuse of children like Cosette would persist, whilst authoritarians like Javert and villains like Thénardier would thrive.

Combined with its core belief in the strength of human compassion and self-sacrifice to overcome these ills, the social consciousness of Les Misérables struck an intense chord with readers in the 1860s, especially against the backdrop of the unification of Italy and the American Civil War.

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162 Responses to I write to live authentically — “having been” is the surest kind of being, per great sage Viktor Frankl

  1. Pingback: Writing and eventually dying a good death — expressing & sharing love to the end | Curtis Narimatsu

  2. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  3. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  4. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  5. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  6. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  7. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  8. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  9. Pingback: sage Rev. James Martin: Liberation theology has also animated some of the great Christian witnesses of our time. Several of my brother Jesuits (and their companions), some of whom wrote and taught liberation theology, were assassinated at the University o

  10. Pingback: the trauma of loneliness — and the hopeful outcome to wellbeing | Curtis Narimatsu

  11. Pingback: dealing with being rejected/forsaken — the upside/redemptive way to deal with not being chosen | Curtis Narimatsu

  12. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  13. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  14. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  15. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  16. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  17. Pingback: If we’re going to write, it is because we have a desire to express ourselves, even if we don’t quite understand what we wish to say. It might just be an inner yearning, but by making the choice to engage in the process rather than the result, our work

  18. Pingback: Thriving, learning, & having wisdom are about getting up each morning with intention, clarity, & commitment to seek & nurture connection along life’s healthy, healing path of inner nourishment & peace of mind | Curtis Narimatsu

  19. Pingback: In praise of Kathie Melocco and her ontic, the master Viktor Frankl: Have you reached a turning point in your life? | Curtis Narimatsu

  20. Pingback: Ante Cuvalo: Stipo Sosic– The Road to Hell and Back — Viktor Frankl’s analog | Curtis Narimatsu

  21. Pingback: Finding meaning in suffering a la great master Viktor Frankl | Curtis Narimatsu

  22. Pingback: great sage Rev. James Martin on liberation theology | Curtis Narimatsu

  23. Pingback: my Biblical hero Matthew — the lowest of the low | Curtis Narimatsu

  24. Pingback: Sage Jason Velotta: For the people of Jericho, Zacchaeus was the lowest of the low. He was an outcast, the scum of the earth. No one is too wretched, too broken, or too guilty of sin. In fact, no matter what you have done, we are all in the same boat. We

  25. Pingback: Sage Paul Naumann: Jesus said, “If anyone desires to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.” — Mark 9:35. | Curtis Narimatsu

  26. Pingback: Sage Marci Glass: Jesus doesn’t seem to care WHY he’s in this situation. But Jesus does seem to care enough about this man, this foreign, tomb-dwelling, demon possessed man to heal him. | Curtis Narimatsu

  27. Pingback: Sage Tom Stein: Three levels of compassion in Jesus — 1) Jesus has compassion for the man’s condition. While others will reject him and run from him, Jesus heals him. 2) Jesus has compassion for the man’s isolation. How long ago did someone last

  28. Pingback: Sage Larry Brincefield: The Widow of Nain — Jesus’ primary concern was for this poor woman… and Jesus raised her son from the dead… and then, instead of saying “come and follow Me”…He told him to go and care for his dear moth

  29. Pingback: Sage Becky Blanton: The difference between true compassion and a snow job is obvious to anyone who has experienced both! The whole point of the parable of the Good Samaritan is that compassion is about one person’s decision to act based on who they were

  30. Pingback: Sage Mike Bagwell: Yet Jesus’ apostles “turned the world upside down” … for Jesus! These are the exact words of Luke the historian in Acts 17:6. | Curtis Narimatsu

  31. Pingback: Sage Dave Trenholm: Jesus ate meals with Rome’s tax collectors and other disreputable sinners – the lowest of the low – because by simply eating with those people, He was letting them know that they were important to him. If you ate with anyone

  32. Pingback: Sage Fred R. Anderson: How could the lawful Pharisees not praise God for that? But still, they must keep their eye on Jesus, for his ways are not their own ways, nor those of John the Baptist and his disciples for that matter. Look at those with whom Jesu

  33. Pingback: Margaret M. Mitchell: To describe modern Christians on the basis of their proclamations??? | Curtis Narimatsu

  34. Pingback: Unforgiveness is a major cause of depression, many people have unforgiveness but are not even aware of it because it is buried so deep inside. — Seek God Ministries | Curtis Narimatsu

  35. Pingback: Jesus continually sought out marginalised people to befriend. An immense compassion drew him toward poor people, those with leprosy (who were regarded as outcasts) and tax collectors (who were loathed as traitors). Jesus had friends who would feel at home

  36. Pingback: Jesus’ invitation was for “the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind” to share in the Kingdom of God, a feast of equals, of open commensality, where there is no distinctions at the table. Jesus broke down barriers by lifting up those s

  37. Pingback: Richard J. Henderson: Once a journalist who had come to report about her mission, looked at her huddled over the body of a dying, destitute man. He said, “You couldn’t pay me to do that kind of work!” Hearing him, Mother Teresa turned an

  38. Pingback: Time and again His parables sought to justify His association with outcasts (Lk. 14:15-24; 15:1-32; Mt. 18:23-25; 20:1-15; 21:28-32). — Carelinks Ministries | Curtis Narimatsu

  39. Pingback: Richard J. Henderson: Once a journalist who had come to report about her mission, looked at her huddled over the body of a dying, destitute man. He said, “You couldn’t pay me to do that kind of work!” Hearing him, Mother Teresa turned an

  40. Pingback: Sage Edward F. Markquart: In Jesus’ parables, the accent is always on the last figure, on the last personality of the story. That is where the focus is. For example, in my opening stories, the focus is on the third stringers who had a change of heart an

  41. Pingback: Jesus’ life was full of paradoxes: the shepherds who first came to him were the lowest of the low, wandering around in fetid clothes, while the magi were some of the highest in their society. Baby Jesus was surrounded by the pungent smell of animal excr

  42. Pingback: Jesus’ invitation was for “the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind” to share in the Kingdom of God, a feast of equals, of open commensality, where there is no distinction at the table. Jesus broke down barriers by lifting up those sh

  43. Pingback: Sage Marci Glass: Jesus doesn’t seem to care WHY the other man is in this situation. But Jesus does seem to care enough about this man, this foreign, tomb-dwelling, demon possessed man to heal him. | Curtis Narimatsu

  44. Pingback: David Wilson: If you’ve not been beat up, downcast and broken at some point in your life, stop reading now. For the unscarred and unscathed, I have nothing further to share. I am thankful you have ventured here and wish you continued smooth sailing.

  45. Pingback: The kicker, the twist in this story, is the guest list and the etiquette. Jesus says, Don’t make the rich people, the healthy people, the prominent and powerful first. Nope, invite the poorest, the sick, the cripples, the lowest of the low. They’re th

  46. Pingback: The kicker, the twist in this story, is the guest list and the etiquette. Jesus says, Don’t make the rich people, the healthy people, the prominent and powerful first. Nope, invite the poorest, the sick, the cripples, the lowest of the low. They’re th

  47. Pingback: In the case of Christ we have a unique form of persuasion. It is like what happens when an error in our viewpoint is shown to us, and our mind reassembles around the truth that we have not seen. But it is unlike this process in that the truth that takes u

  48. Pingback: In the case of Christ we have a unique form of persuasion. It is like what happens when an error in our viewpoint is shown to us, and our mind reassembles around the truth that we have not seen. But it is unlike this process in that the truth that takes u

  49. Pingback: Jesus violated every conceivable tradition when it came to His associations with the marginalized of Jewish society. He infuriated the Pharisees with every compassionate touch. The Qumran community of the Essenes had an unconditional law: “No madman, or

  50. Pingback: This is why when the almighty God came into the world in Jesus, he came as the lowest of the low, as weakness itself, as a complete and utter nothing. — Robert L. Short | Curtis Narimatsu

  51. Pingback: The beautiful word minister, or Huperetes in Greek, has a very special meaning. It is the name of a very low slave, the lowest of the low. This slave was either shanghaied from his home or from the streets or taken from prison or simply kidnapped and was

  52. Pingback: What did Jesus see? — Judy of Rapture Ready | Curtis Narimatsu

  53. Pingback: They heard him preach about how the smallest, lowest, and least among them, were precious in God’s eyes, and the greatest in the Kingdom of God. — Malina & Altenburg | Curtis Narimatsu

  54. Pingback: We typically refuse to help those who are the source of suffering, disappointment, injustice, humiliation, or disgust. — David Chadwell | Curtis Narimatsu

  55. Pingback: But compassion seems to drive religious people’s charitable feelings LESS than other groups — the more religious ground their generosity less in emotion, and more in doctrine, communal identity, or reputational concerns. | Curtis Narimatsu

  56. Pingback: The Pharisees’ statement is intended as a stinging rebuke. It’s not really a question, it’s kind of a rhetorical question, intended to be vindictive and bitter. It’s outrage, why do you eat and drink with the tax gatherers and sinn

  57. Pingback: After all, where was Jesus found most of the time? For me, I see Jesus living and interacting with beggars, prostitutes and tax collectors the lowest of the low in His society. And by choice and association Jesus himself was one of the marginalized, and I

  58. Pingback: God who is so high above the nations, reigning from heaven, still looks down upon the earth to the poorest of the poor, the lowliest of the low…God cares for these folks that are often overlooked. When the Psalmist asks us, “Who is like the Lord our G

  59. Pingback: God who is so high above the nations, reigning from heaven, still looks down upon the earth to the poorest of the poor, the lowliest of the low…God cares for these folks that are often overlooked. When the Psalmist asks us, “Who is like the Lord our G

  60. Pingback: After all, where was Jesus found most of the time? For me, I see Jesus living and interacting with beggars, prostitutes and tax collectors — the lowest of the low in His society. And by choice and association Jesus himself was one of the marginalize

  61. Pingback: They heard him preach about how the smallest, lowest, and least among them — were precious in God’s eyes, and the greatest in the Kingdom of God. — Malina & Altenburg | Curtis Narimatsu

  62. Pingback: God who is so high above the nations, reigning from heaven, still looks down upon the earth to the poorest of the poor, the lowliest of the low…God cares for these folks that are often overlooked. When the Psalmist asks us, “Who is like the Lord our G

  63. Pingback: God who is so high above the nations, reigning from heaven, still looks down upon the earth to the poorest of the poor, the lowliest of the low…God cares for these folks that are often overlooked. When the Psalmist asks us, “Who is like the Lord our G

  64. Pingback: Jesus answered and said to him, “What I do you do not realize now but you shall understand hereafter.” You don’t get it, Peter, you don’t get My humiliation. You think this is too lowly for Me, you think this is too humble for Me,

  65. Pingback: How often do we judge others? I’ll be the first to say that it’s definitely more than it should be. Without even realizing, we judge instantly based on appearance. In the back of our minds, we convince ourselves we are better because we don

  66. Pingback: If you were in the bottom of a hole.. who would you most resent helping you out of the hole? Just think about it….. ‘Cause that’s whom Jesus calls you to love. — April Coates | Curtis Narimatsu

  67. Pingback: Healing the sick. Loving the unloved. Welcoming the unwelcomed. Gathering the little ones. Receiving the rejected and abandoned. Comforting the elders. The Paschal Mystery (Passover) is the greatest act of compassion. God, suffering with us, putting every

  68. Pingback: Many of us claim to love humanity even – the lowest of the low like lepers, prostitutes, and tax-collectors. (Now you know why income tax returns are due at Easter). In affirming the lowest of the low Jesus affirmed humanity. In His emphasis upon th

  69. Pingback: Many of us claim to love humanity even – the lowest of the low like lepers, prostitutes, and tax-collectors. (Now you know why income tax returns are due at Easter). In affirming the lowest of the low Jesus affirmed humanity. In His emphasis upon th

  70. Pingback: Many of us claim to love humanity even – the lowest of the low like lepers, prostitutes, and tax-collectors. (Now you know why income tax returns are due at Easter). In affirming the lowest of the low Jesus affirmed humanity. In His emphasis upon th

  71. Pingback: Here’s the power of hospitality—this willingness to go out of our way to invite and welcome and include those who formerly felt themselves to be on the outside looking in, creating holy space where those who formerly felt themselves to be alienated an

  72. Pingback: But is that the way Jesus treated tax collectors and other outsiders? Matthew 11, verse 19 refers to Jesus as “a friend of tax collectors and sinners”. Time and again in the gospels we witness Jesus befriending those whom others have cast asid

  73. Pingback: But is that the way Jesus treated tax collectors and other outsiders? Matthew 11, verse 19 refers to Jesus as “a friend of tax collectors and sinners”. Time and again in the gospels we witness Jesus befriending those whom others have cast asid

  74. Pingback: Jesus stood in the face of all social convention, and loudly proclaimed that those that see the spirituality of service, and sacrifice, are closer to the kingdom of God, than those with correct doctrine, correct church, and correct lineage. Jesus, this ra

  75. Pingback: Do you know Him? | Curtis Narimatsu

  76. Pingback: Jesus stood in the face of all social convention, and loudly proclaimed that those that see the spirituality of service, and sacrifice, are closer to the kingdom of God, than those with correct doctrine, correct church, and correct lineage. Jesus, this ra

  77. Pingback: But is that the way Jesus treated tax collectors and other outsiders? Matthew 11, verse 19 refers to Jesus as “a friend of tax collectors and sinners”. Time and again in the gospels we witness Jesus befriending those whom others have cast asid

  78. Pingback: How often do we judge others? I’ll be the first to say that it’s definitely more than it should be. Without even realizing, we judge instantly based on appearance. In the back of our minds, we convince ourselves we are better because we don

  79. Pingback: In praise of Lester Chun: Intentionality & the Holy Spirit within oneself | Curtis Narimatsu

  80. Pingback: The Christian distinction which separates Christianity from earlier religions: Matthew 5:44 — Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you. | Curtis Narimatsu

  81. Pingback: What is not in your power to do — to change your enemy — thence, help heal your pain by letting go of your vengeance | Curtis Narimatsu

  82. Pingback: Of a Natalia Stavas — Bombs, Instincts and Morals: Why Heroes Risk It All for Strangers — Jeffrey Kluger | Curtis Narimatsu

  83. Pingback: “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson — Embracing Authenticity — by Randy Hain | Curtis Narimatsu

  84. Pingback: Dedicated to Jesus disciple Lester Chun: Lester’s lifetime journey of authentic living | Curtis Narimatsu

  85. Pingback: My Saint — Oscar Romero — and a flourishing of the Social Gospel, with credit to current Pope Francis | Curtis Narimatsu

  86. Pingback: Karyl McBride: Why Am I So Afraid of Being Alone? It may even clear your thoughts about what is healthy for you. “Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn that anything or anyone that does not bring you alive

  87. Pingback: Karyl McBride: Why Am I So Afraid of Being Alone? It may even clear your thoughts about what is healthy for you. “Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn that anything or anyone that does not bring you alive

  88. Pingback: Karyl McBride: Why Am I So Afraid of Being Alone? It may even clear your thoughts about what is healthy for you. “Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn that anything or anyone that does not bring you alive

  89. Pingback: Living well[spring] | Curtis Narimatsu

  90. Pingback: How to deal with loneliness: To stop feeling lonely, we first must accept that we are feeling lonely. Sometimes admitting that to ourselves is difficult. We then have to express those feelings of loneliness in some way. We might find ourselves writing in

  91. Pingback: As the recent history of American Protestantism proves, when faith becomes the servant of partisan politics, even a great religious tradition can lose its soul. So, where have all the Protestants gone? They are swelling the ranks of America’s fastes

  92. Pingback: Those who are driven by a quest for happiness are more likely to end up feeling lonely instead, according to a study. This is because they focus on themselves, rather than on their connections with others. As a result, self-seeking individuals end up feel

  93. Pingback: Those who are driven by a quest for happiness are more likely to end up feeling lonely instead, according to a study. This is because they focus on themselves, rather than on their connections with others. As a result, self-seeking individuals end up feel

  94. Pingback: You may be shocked to learn that the supposed essential principle that this country was founded upon — “The Pursuit of Happiness” — is nothing more than an impossible vainglorious wild goose chase. All the saints, sages and wise me

  95. Pingback: “This is Water” – David Foster Wallace — Wallace used many forms of irony, but focused on individuals’ continued longing for earnest, unselfconscious experience and communication in a media-saturated society. Wallace helped u

  96. Pingback: What’s the lesson in your narrative? — Kare Anderson | Curtis Narimatsu

  97. Pingback: The law of freewill ensures that the self will never force itself upon you, but that doesn’t mean It has abandoned you. This is when understanding the difference between loneliness and aloneness becomes very important: Loneliness is an emotional voi

  98. Pingback: The law of free will ensures that the self will never force itself upon you, but that doesn’t mean It has abandoned you. This is when understanding the difference between loneliness and aloneness becomes very important: Loneliness is an emotional vo

  99. Pingback: A practicing Catholic, Stephen Colbert asked record-breaking author Dan Brown, “Did you write this to familiarize yourself with where you’ll be when you die?” | Curtis Narimatsu

  100. Pingback: The law of free will ensures that the self will never force itself upon you, but that doesn’t mean It has abandoned you. This is when understanding the difference between loneliness and aloneness becomes very important: Loneliness is an emotional vo

  101. Pingback: In Obliquity, John Kay argues that the best things in life can only be pursued indirectly. I believe this is true for happiness: if you truly want to experience joy or meaning, you need to shift your attention away from joy or meaning, and toward projects

  102. Pingback: In Obliquity, John Kay argues that the best things in life can only be pursued indirectly. I believe this is true for happiness: if you truly want to experience joy or meaning, you need to shift your attention away from joy or meaning, and toward projects

  103. Pingback: “Ultimately I was fascinated by Gatsby as a character. I was moved by him. It no longer became a love story to me. It became a tragedy of this new American, this man in a new world where everything is possible, and at a time of great opulence in the

  104. Pingback: Ask yourself the ultimate questions in your life. Who am I? What is my purpose? What is important to me? How do I live an authentic life? By asking the ultimate questions in your life, you begin the lifelong journey inward, a journey of reflection, contem

  105. Pingback: sage Carl Gregg: The expectation of The Parable of the Mustard Seed would have been for the comparison to have been to a Cedar Tree, a symbol of empire in the ancient world. Among many Hebrew Scripture examples, consider Ezekiel 17. The expectation is for

  106. Pingback: am not concerned if you believe in the resurrection. But I challenge you to practice resurrection. What within you aches to be reborn?Who around you desperately needs renewed hope, a new word of encouragement, a new perspective, a new lease on life?Or as

  107. Pingback: am not concerned if you believe in the resurrection. But I challenge you to practice resurrection. What within you aches to be reborn?Who around you desperately needs renewed hope, a new word of encouragement, a new perspective, a new lease on life?Or as

  108. Pingback: Ask yourself the ultimate questions in your life. Who am I? What is my purpose? What is important to me? How do I live an authentic life? By asking the ultimate questions in your life, you begin the lifelong journey inward, a journey of reflection, contem

  109. Pingback: I am not concerned if you believe in the resurrection. But I challenge you to practice resurrection. What within you aches to be reborn?Who around you desperately needs renewed hope, a new word of encouragement, a new perspective, a new lease on life?Or a

  110. Pingback: Jesus’ death becomes even more powerful when this particular messiah also carries your personal projections. That is, the celebrity’s life mirrors important pieces of your own psychic journey. Your own life dramas. Jesus did this for me with h

  111. Pingback: Jesus’ death becomes even more powerful when this particular messiah also carries your personal projections. That is, the celebrity’s life mirrors important pieces of your own psychic journey. Your own life dramas. Jesus did this for me with h

  112. Pingback: Jesus’ death becomes even more powerful when this particular messiah also carries your personal projections. That is, the celebrity’s life mirrors important pieces of your own psychic journey. Your own life dramas. Jesus did this for me with h

  113. Pingback: Jesus’ death becomes even more powerful when this particular messiah also carries your personal projections. That is, the celebrity’s life mirrors important pieces of your own psychic journey. Your own life dramas. Jesus did this for me with h

  114. Pingback: Jesus’ death becomes even more powerful when this particular messiah also carries your personal projections. That is, the celebrity’s life mirrors important pieces of your own psychic journey. Your own life dramas. Jesus did this for me with h

  115. Pingback: Like most writers, I use bits and pieces from my life in my writing. I start with character because that’s the crucial part. I base my characters on bits and pieces of people I either knew or know now. I do that, realizing we’re all capable of

  116. Pingback: Albert Camus’ Paradox: Camus was Augustine’s acolyte — the absence of religious belief can simultaneously be accompanied by a longing for “salvation and meaning” | Curtis Narimatsu

  117. Pingback: I draw water from the well of my life’s work, and create stories. — Mark Rubinstein | Curtis Narimatsu

  118. Pingback: We all have the power to pick our attitudes | Curtis Narimatsu

  119. Pingback: Greatest sage Viktor Frankl: Happiness cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side effect of one’s personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one’s surrender to a person other t

  120. Pingback: Then Jesus cleansed the temple of everything evil about us — then in typical mob hysteria, we “cleansed” ourselves of Jesus via His Crucifixion | Curtis Narimatsu

  121. Pingback: In praise of nickname Stoner’s bridging the proverbial age gap — from Stoner age 43 to Peter age 66: “You are not an uptight jerk” (like other ultra-judgmental old farts!!) | Curtis Narimatsu

  122. Pingback: In praise of nickname Stoner’s bridging the proverbial generation gap — from Stoner age 43 to Peter age 66: “You are not an uptight jerk” (like other ultra-judgmental old farts!!) | Curtis Narimatsu

  123. Pingback: Ambivalence: The hair-thin line between being thrilled (Jesus our savior comes to our town Jerusalem) and being threatened (our own ambivalence — Jesus cleanses the temple of everything evil about ourselves — we feel threatened by Jesus reveal

  124. Pingback: Ambivalence: The hair-thin line between being thrilled (Jesus our savior comes to our town Jerusalem) and being threatened (our own ambivalence — Jesus cleanses the temple of everything evil about ourselves — we feel threatened by Jesus reveal

  125. Pingback: Love-hate dynamic of mob hysteria in praising, then killing Jesus — all within a week’s time | Curtis Narimatsu

  126. Pingback: “And how can man die better than facing fearful odds”. — Horatius (the phrase ‘Romans on the Bridge’ is used to refer to a valiant defense against impossible odds) | Curtis Narimatsu

  127. Pingback: “And how can man die better than facing fearful odds.” — Horatius (the phrase ‘Romans on the Bridge’ is used to refer to a valiant defense against impossible odds) | Curtis Narimatsu

  128. Pingback: So Jesus exposed our unlovely selves (Jesus’ cleansing of the temple by ridding it of our money-changers) — we didn’t have to kill Jesus — we could have sublimated our primal fears about our hypocritical nature — and instead

  129. Pingback: My life list: Listen more than one should speak. Engage with the world. This is where ideas come from. Such connections are vitality at its finest — in praise of connector Kim Pu’u born 1965 | Curtis Narimatsu

  130. Pingback: What if God just wants you to discover yourself? — Peter Enns | Curtis Narimatsu

  131. Pingback: We depraved humans are so fickle, to say the least — my recount of Jesus’ exposure of our mob hysteria 2,000 yrs. ago — nothing has changed in us since then — we still are a mob in senseless hysteria | Curtis Narimatsu

  132. Pingback: Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 400 yrs. before Aquinas — and to us 400 yrs. after 1200 AD Aquinas — yet, nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our sensel

  133. Pingback: Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before Aquinas — and to us 800 yrs. after 1200 AD Aquinas — yet, nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our sensel

  134. Pingback: Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before Aquinas — and to us 800 yrs. after 1200 AD Aquinas — yet, nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our sensel

  135. Pingback: Nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our senseless mob hysteria — Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before Aquinas — and to us 800 yrs. after 1200

  136. Pingback: We depraved humans of immense despair — nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our senseless mob hysteria — Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before

  137. Pingback: We depraved humans of immense despair — nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our senseless mob hysteria — Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before

  138. Pingback: We depraved humans of immense despair — nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our senseless mob hysteria — Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800 yrs. before

  139. Pingback: We are depraved humans steeped in immense despair — nothing has changed in us — we still are as depraved today as we were when we crucified Jesus in our senseless mob hysteria — Aquinas is equidistant to early church father Augustine 800

  140. Pingback: Jesus’ mind-blowing reversal/frustration of all expectations — turning common-sense ideas upside down, confounding us all — spark our deepest imaginative opposites/impossibilities, to say the least!! | Curtis Narimatsu

  141. Pingback: Jesus’ mind-blowing reversal/frustration of all expectations — turning common-sense ideas upside down, confounding us all — Jesus sparks our beautifully deepest, imaginative “opposites/impossibilities of thought,” to say the

  142. Pingback: Jesus’ mind-blowing “huli ‘au” (upside down) overturning of this world of our flesh — Jesus violated every conceivable tradition when it came to His associations with the marginalized of Jewish society. He infuriated the Phar

  143. Pingback: Jesus’ mind-blowing “huli ‘au” (upside down) overturning of this world of our flesh — Jesus violated every conceivable tradition when it came to His associations with the marginalized of Jewish society. He infuriated the Phar

  144. Pingback: Mind-blowing Jesus stands inexplicably before us, and Jesus turns common-sense ideas upside down, confounding us all! Dedicated to authentic Ri-in!! | Curtis Narimatsu

  145. Pingback: Life is full of reversals of expectations, baby!! Dedicated to my little girl Staycie age 40 — my separation anxiety from my baby girl when she turned 18 & left home to live on her own turned out to be her greatest crossover to independence R

  146. Pingback: Hawaii’s greatest modern wayfinder Rev. Hung Wai Ching (1905-2002) alter ego Rev. Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971) — Niebuhr’s immensely popular Serenity Prayer: “Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it

  147. Pingback: Calvinism, we keep being reminded, was the faith of the Puritans who settled most early American colonies, and its teachings are reflected in founding documents. Since the U.S. Constitution is so preoccupied with checks and balances, some old-timers found

  148. Pingback: Calvinism, we keep being reminded, was the faith of the Puritans who settled most early American colonies, and its teachings are reflected in founding documents. Since the U.S. Constitution is so preoccupied with checks and balances, some old-timers found

  149. Pingback: To love and be loved are what life is all about | Curtis Narimatsu

  150. Pingback: In praise of Pastor Jay Hernandez — Colossians 1:20 – And having made peace through the blood of the cross, that all beings in heaven and on earth would be reconciled or brought back to God. | Curtis Narimatsu

  151. Pingback: In praise of Pastor Jay Hernandez — Colossians (phonetic pronunciation: kuh-LAH-shuhnz) 1:20 – And having made peace through the blood of the cross, that all beings in heaven and on earth would be reconciled or brought back to God. | Curtis Narima

  152. Pingback: I’m here to love and be loved | Curtis Narimatsu

  153. Pingback: In praise of Pastors Calisto & Violet Mateo of Our God Reigns Ministry at 1289 Kilauea Ave. Hilo Suite H, phone (808) 961-6540 | Curtis Narimatsu

  154. Pingback: 1 Peter 4:8 — Love covers a multitude of sins — Center of Grace — or in the secular sense, forgive yourself for what is not in your power to do | Curtis Narimatsu

  155. Pingback: luck of the draw (bad or good) — forgive yourself for what is not in your power to do — Steven Kalas | Curtis Narimatsu

  156. Pingback: Nobody comes to therapy who hasn’t lost something. The heart is injured. Limping. Constrained by psychic adhesions. Aching, either obviously or just behind the curtain of consciousness. The therapeutic relationship is the MRI. It reveals what’s torn.

  157. Pingback: Nobody comes to therapy who hasn’t lost something. The heart is injured. Limping. Constrained by psychic adhesions. Aching, either obviously or just behind the curtain of consciousness. The therapeutic relationship is the MRI. It reveals what’s torn.

  158. Pingback: Nobody comes to therapy who hasn’t lost something. The heart is injured. Limping. Constrained by psychic adhesions. Aching, either obviously or just behind the curtain of consciousness. The therapeutic relationship is the MRI. It reveals what’s torn.

  159. Pingback: To love and to be loved are mystical desires a la Carl Jung’s archetypes (Jung’s forebearers were mystics Plato, Apostle Paul, & Augustine) | Curtis Narimatsu

  160. Pingback: The young man with terminal cancer was going to die quicker than he thought, and he was very depressed about this. And of course he hadn’t gotten to make his mark, and he had this conversation with this young woman. And the young woman said, “No,

  161. Pingback: Modern society’s devolution and self-absorption — we need symbols which participate in the things they represent | Curtis Narimatsu

  162. Pingback: Depressive symptoms: Crisis of meaning and self-absorption | Curtis Narimatsu

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