Too much, mostly

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve noticed a real benefit to cell phones for that segment of the population who might once have been thought vulnerable outer-casts, most especially awkward teens who haven’t yet found the muscles and beautiful gender attributes still hiding under their food-medicating results; those who would be alone on the street, if not for the cell. Now, waiting for a bus is not so much a problem. Or walking home, one is not alone. One fits in, now.  Everyone’s on their cells, texting or checking Facebook or whatever social site(s). No one’s looking at them with mean-sport ideas.

I knew people long ago who developed an over-toughness to such unwanted attention, after they went through many hells. Cell phones would’ve been a Godsend to them.. so, for that much, we all must be grateful.  However, cells (or similar screens) seem to also have an addictive quality — a drug-like addiction — because it negates real communication even when two or more are face to face in the flesh!

There will have to come a mandatory deprogramming/regulatory effort by 7th or 8th grade, I think, because it’s not healthy to prefer the virtual over the real, and because we don’t want to end up looking like aliens (big head from big brain from too much constant info, big eyes to track 84 screens at the same time, tiny nostrils from reduced breathing/never working up a panting sweat from physical activity, and a slit of a mouth because of no verbalized communicating for so long).

As I say, maybe it’s just me, but I’d rather none of us end up that way. Texting is great — it gets to the heart of the matter, but it can also be a quieter, easier weapon that works against both parties far more grievously than we might guess. We need to see and use eyes (truly, windows to a person’s essence, if not understood to be windows to the soul) as well as hear each other’s voices, and laughter, and singing, and sweet sounds of togetherness. Much of our inner lives are so alone already.

None of us will ever unplug all the way, now, but I think many of us would opt for an unplugged day — announced or not. We have to be the bosses of our lives. And we have to interchange and meld for real.  We were not created to be bots (nor even bumblebees who dance out locations). We were created for love. That’s a verb. Love cannot be texted; it cannot be virtual. After all, we are not descended from angels. We are descended from far greater than the angels. For a reason.  Technology always moves us away from the Reason.  (Yes, sort of Luddite, here, but only because there’s a Good reason.)  Social media always makes the grass seem greener on the other side. That should send up a warning flag for us think-ers and love-ers, always!

We are love-able, as is.


.

I has them.

It would’ve gone alright with the rest as a middle name for real: Relax Qualm McGillicuddy, though it works better as a statement — a comma after Relax would’ve been perfect.

I had qualms about everything. If I didn’t, I imported them. I was my mother’s daughter, which is to say not half Irish just yet, which is to say French Canadian. My neighborhoods in a historic seaport were incredibly diverse, so I was surrounded by Italian qualms, many French Canadian ones, and the rarer Irish qualm (who had qualms about having qualms but had them anyway, only slightly moreso than did the Greeks).

The problem was, we were mostly of the Catholic working class persuasion, and that was rife with qualms. The only Jewish girl I knew didn’t seem to suffer them. She was joyful, animated, sure of herself. I desperately wanted to be Jewish for a while, back when I didn’t realize one could be Jewish and yet not religiously so.

I continue qualmward. Not because it’s mandatory for the conscience — that’s only how it got a foothold. I need qualms, the awkward 50-lb butterflies of doubt, to warn me off of what I think I want to go for — or at least make me think longer, consider more.

Or, angelqualms.


.

Ncht. Kids. Ncht. Mom. *

18423907_1074932262608501_6820342602340519625_n

18446589_1074829022618825_2046072474519448816_n

In honor of Mothers Day (in America), I stole those two above.  (Sorry, Ma. *sigh.. guess you’ll have to send me to my cool, shady, quiet, comfy room allll alone..  Ya gotta do whatcha gotta do… I’ll get over it somehow.  I deserve it, I know…but gosh, you’re not gonna make me stay in there for hours and hours, are ya?)

Oh, fine.  I didn’t steal them.  Credit to one of my favorite sites, “Just Laugh.”  It’s both innocuous and amusing enough for someone like me (and maybe you).  And not just because I’ve already seen all the mullet-hairdos with enormous eyeglasses photos on Awkward Family Photos. “Just Laugh” is very clever.

Yes, I’m back on Facebook, but only as emergency contact, because daughter occasionally doesn’t get a new phone card until a pay-Friday, which might be days away. She’s the one with all the kids, so I have to be instantly reachable — as does she.

Yes, this is my way of avoiding writing of mothers.  It hurts. Yes, even almost 23 years into the fact, but anyway, for all moms out there, and grandmoms and great-grandmoms, aunts and all who are motherly, I’m wishing you a sweet, calm Sunday.

For anyone who still has a mom, go see her. Sunday. Any Sunday. Every Sunday!  Or, if you live with her, take her somewhere fun.  Like, Chuck E. Cheese. ‘Cause it’s gonna rain, you KNOW it’s gonna rain, lol.  Throw her in the ball pit — she’ll love it, just before you all get kicked out of the place.  Again.

*(Oh, gosh.. had to update this. My former-LimpBizkit/Staind/Megadeth-loving daughter just said to her almost 13-yr-old son, “Turn that music down — I can’t stand it!”)

:-o!!

🙂 Happy Weekend, WP fam.  ❤

.

A Re-blog (“The Citizen’s Income”)

(Relax note: The more I [an average world citizen] read about this feasible idea — and realize also the quieter benefit of how quickly it could eliminate a lot of complicated, expensive, uneven bureaucracy on every level — the more attractive it becomes and the more I’d see it pursued for its potential as a genuine boon for any nation.)

One of the recurring ideas that crops up in alternative economics circles is the citizen’s income. In a nutshell, it’s a universal and unconditional payment made to every adult in the country, every month. This provides everyone with a ‘guaranteed minimum income’, which is an alternative name for it. We have it in a form […]

via The Citizen’s Income — Make Wealth History

More on the matter from Jeremy here.


.

A Re-blog (“She Carries the Future”)

(Relax note: Beautifully said, and so saddeningly true.)

 

In the alternative

The reason men have always, when necessary, fought and died to protect the women they love is not only romantic and sentimental. It is, rather, because, in her mystery, woman carries the future. She is that sacred gift who sustains a people and life itself.

To encourage women to join the military and fight shows an unnatural contempt for who woman “is”. And only a tragic contempt for the ecology of creation / nature advocates it. Not to see this shows the beginning of a meltdown of the soul.

View original post

A Re-blog (“Holding the writer in your hands”)

Emily does it again!  —Relax

This was an unusual mail week. Rather than just the usual advertisements, credit card solicitations and bills, I received three personal letters written by hand, carefully and thoughtfully composed, all meant to encourage me. I was amazed at the caring shown by three different women who took the time to sit down and write to […]

via Holding the Writer in Your Hands — Barnstorming


.

A Re-blog (“Soul in need”)

Originally posted on Witnesses to Hope: Soul in need of mercy, whoever and wherever you may be, know that all the riches of the Divine Mercy are, for you, contained and offered in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. Go before the tabernacle, or seek out the monstrance displaying the Body of Christ, –a feast…

via Soul in need — Witnesses to Hope

(Relax note: We in America generally aren’t used to the concept of mercy. Individually and in pastoral/social/humanitarian groups, yes, but collectively as a gun-loving/capitalist ideologue nation, not so much.

Mercy is the premier hallmark of God, the only reason we could have a Saviour, and it’s been hard to live where God seems unwelcome more and more, to live where God apparently looks so much like self.  It has often been damned lonely, here, where neither He nor His mercy [for others!] is welcomed — and His Mother’s, only a little more.

Almost everything from the lives and mouths and pens of the popes since Vatican II — as from Fatima and ultimately from Golgotha — has spoken to the Lord’s mercy.  This is what the Holy Spirit wanted more out there in the modern world via the Second Ecumenical Council:

Mercy.

God’s.

And thus, ours. If we don’t recognize His for us, though, we’ll never find ours for others [and self]. Hence, we have a cold and skewed emperor, and false mercies.  We’re being skewed, too, and our true mercies are fading fast. Lincoln recognized the Lord’s mercy, as did many other forefathers, as did JFK — and found their own within. One sees the difference instantly.

Without mercy, there is no real love, no real peace, no real honor, no real heroes, and no real hope. The above reblogged article says it so much better than I. Please know that Catholic churches are open every day, if not all day, then certainly a little before and after daily Mass. The Blessed Sacrament is there, for any of us, in His tabernacle. Or, one can always face the nearest tabernacle from home or park bench or bus station or railroad trestle, and He will see whom He already knows, just fine.)


.