This is What I Have to Say Today, When I Didn’t Have Anything to Say Yesterday

 

 

How do we wake up spiritually, and what does that mean anyway? As writers or bloggers, what can we say that hasn't been said?

 

There is a lot to say, for we live on the leading edge, but there is a drop-off in front of us, and we don't know how to handle it. 

 

Is there an invisible stone bridge across the abyss that blends into the surroundings that we can’t see? Remember Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? (Perhaps that is my favorite of the Jones series—or a close tie with the first. Who can forget the snakes or that incredible ride on the black horse where Indiana forces a rock into the enemy tank's exhaust?)

 

In times of trouble, we can rely on the arts to give us a moment of reprieve or a thought that no amount of preaching or expose' can do. It's the stories we love. We usually want the good guy to win, and happy endings work better than sad ones.

 

See, we are really dreamers and romantics at heart.

 

That is something we have forgotten.

 

Tomorrow is Ground Hog's Day. I will always remember the date, which is also my grandson's birthday. It's time to watch that movie again. Bill Murray, who begins as a pompous jerk, must relive the same day over and over until he is transformed into a nice guy and wins his lady love.

 

Is that what we do with our lives? Must we keep living it until we get it?

 

It tickled me when I read that author Mark Manson said he would like to be a barista at Starbucks and write a note on everyone's cup. It was dismal stuff about the meaninglessness of life, but then how can we send them off with "Have a nice day" when so much depression abounds?

 

"Depression," Manson says, "is a crisis of Hope."

 

"Hope is what we believe to be greater than ourselves. Without it we believe we are nothing."—Mark Manson. 

 

I mentioned Thailand in an earlier blog after watching a documentary on Happiness. The Thai people were listed as among the happiest because they believed in HOPE.

 

"Getting it" is different for everybody. However, I think a few characteristics could apply—take care of yourself, the people, and the earth, be kind, and don't hurt things-living or otherwise. Have a spiritual understanding without beating other people over the head with it. Continue to grow. Believe in hope.

 

We are only here briefly, so we should make it count for something. 

 

 

P.S. I was depressed until I wrote something. That’s a lesson on putting the pen to page and begin.

That Was Totally Weird

A few days ago, Hubby and I watched The Last Stand, an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie that began with a narration of the landscape—do you know where I’m going with this? Well, we didn’t. 

 

The narrator described the opening scene. He described the characters as if reading the movie script. All this while we were also watching the action and hearing the dialog. There was no background music, just the narration. “She downcast her eyes,” yep, he described that action right on cue.

 

I said, “Hey, we can see that; why are you telling us?” 

 

The narrator continued. It was annoying as we could see that the bad guy had his legs wrapped around Arnold’s neck, that was until all that reading became funny.  I thought it was a schtick, a ploy of the film, for there wasn’t much dialogue. Soon, I wasn’t paying much attention to the guy reading. But he wouldn't shut up. Okay, the move ended, but the guy kept talking. 

 

He read the credits—like ALL the credits, Castle Rock Film Co. Columbia Pictures, to the extreme of describing the lady holding the torch. He read ALL the actors and their parts. I skipped through that long list but wondered where in the heck this was going. Then the narrator called his wife, got her message machine, and said he missed her and wanted her back. He ranted for awhile, the message ran out, but began another and he continued where he had left off. The message ended, but he wasn’t finished talking.

 

Another message came on with a continuation of his one-sided conversation and apologizing. I thought it was similar to a cookie at the end of a movie. Way to go Arnold, you must have chosen this script because of this device. Then the guy, who should have needed a drink of water by now, started describing the following movie, The Morgans. We turned off the TV and laughed. “That was awesome. How weird. How clever.”

 

The next day, Daughter Dear said it was a setting on our television that got clicked on somehow. It was probably for the sight-impaired--maybe it was an open mike.

 

Oh.

 

But I’m still laughing.

 

More than you wanted to know?

I completed my 27 hours of real estate Continuing Education and then another 3 of Laws, so I’m set with a Real Estate Broker license for the next 2 years. The first year only lasted from the time we took your exam until our birthday month. 

I am study and tested out.

So, if you got anything weird from me, please chalk it up to my scrambled brain. Now I have changed the name of my newsletter. It’s on Substack. It's purpose is to let people know what I am up to, and determine if they want to continue with me. Here's a glimpse if you are interested: If not, tell me a funny story.

 

 

Introduction

Hi, I'm Joyce

 

Remember The Twilight Bark?

 

On a hillside in London, Papa Pongo desperately barked for help in finding his 15 stolen puppies. The great Dane heard his cry and set in motion the twilight bark where the message passed from dog to dog until it reached a farm outside town. There, the Colonel heard "Stolen, fifteen spotted puddles," until, with the help of Sargent Tibs (a cat), and a correction in hearing, they led the charge and rescued not 15 but 101 spotted puppies. After misadventures, trickery, skill, and bravery, they defeated that despicable vicious vile old witch, Cruella DeVille. (Disney movie 101 Dalmations.)

 

Jewell was my dog. Now she is my emissary, a past love heralding in the future, to lay a bark trail, of what you can expect from me.”

 

My daughter might take offense when I say that Jewell was my dog, for we adopted Jewell to be her dog. However, when my daughter was busy in high school, Jewell and I became inseparable. You know how it is: once a dog stamps her love on your heart, it's there forever.

 

This stealing of his dog's name worked for Indiana Jones. Isn't Indiana much more fun than Henry Jones Jr. and Raiders of the Lost Ark. It doesn't have a ring to it, does it? And try to say Joyce Davis without it coming out, JoyceStavis.

 

This newsletter morphed from a blog I've written titled Wish on White Horses. However, as that blog isn't about horses—this newsletter isn't about dogs.

 

Both animals are our teachers.

  

Horses teach us not to follow someone else's path but to blaze our own. Dogs teach love.

 

More... 

 

 

joycedavis.substack.com