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April 28, 2010


I have no parents — I make the heavens and earth my parents.
I have no home — I make awareness my home.
I have no life or death — I make the tides of breathing my life and death.
I have no divine power — I make honesty my divine power.
I have no means — I make understanding my means.
I have no magic secrets — I make character my magic secret.
I have no body — I make endurance my body.
I have no eyes — I make the flash of lightening my eyes.
I have no ears — I make sensibility my ears.
I have no limbs — I make promptness my limbs.
I have no strategy — I make “unshadowed by thought” my strategy.
I have no designs — I make “seizing opportunity by the forelock” my design.
I have no miracles — I make right-action my miracles.
I have no principles — I make adaptability to all circumstances my principles.
I have no tactics — I make emptiness and fullness my tactics.
I have no talents — I make ready wit my talent.
I have no friends — I make my mind my friend.
I have no enemy — I make carelessness my enemy.
I have no armor — I make benevolence and righteousness my armor.
I have no castle — I make immovable-mind my castle.
I have no sword — I make absence of self my sword.

Anonymous Samurai, 14th Century


April 15, 2010


Patterns within patterns...plans within plans...


April 12, 2010


Think carefully about your next few words, son...

One of my friends just found out that her husband of one year – whom she had long suspected of conducting online trysts (with boys, no less) – was actually having multiple real-world affairs…with WOMEN.

Then he had the nerve to try and emotionally bully her into letting him stay in their home (that her parents bought for them) for at least another three months…while continuing his liaisons!

Three days later, her father drove down from the remote mining community where he presides as Justice of the Peace…and expert coffin maker (he flies to China several times a year to teach apprentices how to build them for the rapidly aging Chinese population).

He arrived yesterday in his rusty flatbed truck, and knocked politely on the door (his daughter was being comforted by friends at a local restaurant). The husband cautiously answered the door. The father shook his hand firmly, stared a long, quiet hole through the source of his daughter’s anguish, and then nodded towards the truck…

There was a pine coffin sitting open in the back.

The husband is now hiding at a lover’s apartment.

His things have been placed in storage (the girl has too much class to destroy them).

And the girl’s parents filled the empty space with a lovely old piano (she was a virtuoso in her

youth) and a mountain of precious books from her personal library up north.

The moral(s) of this tale?

  1. Don’t get married ’til you’re good and ready.  If I’ve learned anything after 20 years of dating, it’s that you simply can’t justify sowing your damn oats at someone else’s expense.
  2. Trust your intuition.  If someone’s an habitual cheater, they WANT to get caught – they’ll leave clear signs of their dalliances
  3. Fellas…if you’re dead set on following your dick like a goddamn divining rod once you’re married, due diligence is in order – her father’s occupation says a lot about what you’re getting into.