Funny After Death

One of my yoga buddies told this story about her recently departed Dad.

He’d turned 91, and had a clean finish.

Turns out he’d been a practitioner of transcendental meditation for 50 years, but that’s not the funny part.

Apparently, part of being a TM devotee meant visiting your local watering hole on a daily basis.

You heard that right.  Every day he’d perch upon his favorite bar stool at TGIF and have a few.

Every day.

Every day since 1985.

As of this writing, that was a smidgen over 12,000 days ago.


That’s a lot of days.

That’s a lot of drinks.

And, here’s the best part.  Guess how his good buddies from TGIF decided they would honor his memory?

You got it.  His ashes are sitting high up on the bar, in his favorite mug (sealed, I’m sure), with a little plaque on the mug and on his favorite barstool.

There you have it.  A good way to transcend death is to make sure you’ve etched yourself into someone’s, or something’s, life.  And her Dad did exactly that.

What’s your barstool going to say?



My Haunted House

There’s an apparition in my house, the scariest you can imagine.

It taunts me whenever it can.  It always looks me in the eye, and reminds me that I’m rather ugly, that I’m untidy.  Worse, it keeps telling me that I’m getting old, older, oldest.  If I look away, it reminds me that I’m getting flabby, or gray, or worse.

It only appears in certain rooms, so I tend to avoid those rooms.  It only speaks when there’s sufficient light, so I have no problem keeping my house dark.

Full disclosure here, I’m not a vampire.

I don’t play one as an actor, and I’m pretty sure I don’t sleep-vamp.  I’m also good with sunlight, even though I prefer moonlight.  Topping it off, I’m totally ok with garlic.  I love garlic.

You see, my house doesn’t have many mirrors.  Sure, there’s one in the bathroom.  But it’s only there to make sure I don’t slice off my nose while shaving, or that I’ve scraped my tongue correctly.  That’s about it.

I’m convinced that the mirror is one of the greatest sources of life’s stress.  Every time I peer into my own eyes, I can only see what’s wrong, and what’s going wrong, and what can go wrong.

I’ve heard of people who become so worried, so stressed out while looking in the mirror, they spend HOURS peering into its seductive message.  I’m pretty sure none of those people are truly happy.

What was it like before?  You know, before there were mirrors everywhere?  I have a feeling people were a bit messier, but also happier.  First of all, your friends would get your face in shape, so that’s social.  And you wouldn’t spend all that alone time faced with your greatest fear.


Because that’s what your mirror delivers.  You’re looking into a cold, glassy surface that  reflects your own image back into your eyeballs.  Your hopes, your dreams, your accomplishments aren’t there.  Only you.  Just like when you’re lying there in a coffin, unable to move, with all your friends and a few enemies coming to pay their last respects.

You’re cold, and stiff.  You might as well be made of glass.

So the next time you glance at yourself in your favorite mirror, give yourself a big smile.

It may be your last.

Happy Halloween


Units of Measure

Recently, these people decided that a lump of metal wasn’t good enough as a standard weight.  They decided to lose the lump and create a standard based on fundamental theory.

This got me thinking.

No matter what discipline you’re into, you have to have a basic unit.  It can be a tooth if you’re a dentist.  Or a dollar if you’re an economist.  It can be a stone tool if you’re an archaeologist.

What if you are trying to understand politics?  Or medicine?  Or your dog?

Let’s face it.  Trying to figure out a politician might be easy if we use a unit based on dollars of influence.  Votes are secondary.

As for medicine, how many units do you have to have before you’re healthy?  Or happy?  Maybe the units are negative, as in, how many aches and pains DON’T you have?

Finally, Fido.  How do you measure your dog?  Licks and wags?  Barks at the neighbor?  How well he cuddles while you sleep?

So, the next time you and your friends are complaining about something,

and you KNOW you will,

take a second to think about what kind of unit is involved.

Man problems?

Woman problems?

Boss problems?

Coworker problems?

I’ll let your imagination handle those.

It’s more fun that way.

By the way, Fun?  Measured in groans and smiles.


Au Contraire

I was taught once, a long time ago, that contradicting someone was considered impolite.

No it isn’t.

Perhaps it’s a matter of culture.  Having recently returned from the English pre-Victorian years described in Pride and Prejudice, I was jealous of the rules of society.  If you said you would attend a party, you would.  If you couldn’t, you would tell the host ahead of time.  And if you were late you apologized to the host and asked forgiveness.

Recently, I witnessed some instances where the husband was immediately “improved” by his womanly loved ones.  Both wives and daughters are featured here, but the identities have been altered to protect the innocent.

Oh, who am I kidding?  It’s to protect me!

The first instance was during the telling of the sale of our first home.  I mentioned that a large family was buying it, and would have to live in all of 890 square feet.

“No, it was 980,” said the wife.

I noted that I wasn’t going to argue and pressed on.  No matter that it interrupted the flow of a great story, and there were lots of other family sitting around waiting expectantly.  No matter that I am a numbers person and work around machines that use numbers all the time, and she is a manager of people and also works in a pet shelter.  Besides, no matter which number is correct, it was still a small house for a family of five!

Later, I mentioned that we watch relatively little TV.

“No you don’t,” corrected the daughter.

I was telling a story as to why we don’t have a dedicated large screen TV.  We have a large-ish computer screen and stream everything.  Even then, the few hours we see a night is nothing to the average of 5 hours a day.

But what’s the point of arguing?  I was only saying that to reinforce the fact that we use the computer instead of a big screen.  What did our daughter think she was doing, correcting the official record?  Or perhaps she feels we watch more than we should?

I didn’t argue it then, and I don’t think I’ll ever bring it up again, except here.

What’s the point?  Why is it these contradictions have to be made so immediately and so publicly?  Is there some kind of vendetta going on against men by their loving women?  Or does it have more to do with setting a pecking order?

Watching behavior is not only fun, it’s my profession.  But sometimes, at the level of the individual, things happen that not even I can explain.  And I’m not even sure I want to.

Any of your insights would be greatly appreciated.

Yes, yes they would.


Yoga: Eight is Enough



So here’s the post that this post is based upon.

To recap.  This guy, Patanjali, suggested we live our lives according to an eight part plan.

He called this plan Yoga.


Through the years, many people have worked to turn his plan into “holy” text, and him into some kind of deity.

He was no deity.  And his plan is exactly that, a plan.

In my humble opinion, it’s a pretty good plan.

By following his plan, one can find their life centered, peaceful, and relatively uncluttered by conflict, anger, or anxiety.

He’s not the first one to come up with such ideas.  But he was the first to be so darned organized about it.

I realize this now because, according to Patanjali’s plan, I’ve been doing yoga since my late teens.

Back then I’d discovered religion.  Not just any religion, all religion.  And I worked at understanding their commonalities and strengths.  It was cool.

It was also the era of books like “I’m OK and You’re OK.”  Self-help books that also offered life plans for happiness and success.  I read those as well.

Now that I understand the essence of what Patanjali was writing, I see him for what he was.  Another self-help writer.

So, without further ado, here are the eight limbs of yoga presented in modern self-help terms, in my favorite order.

  1. Samādhi: This is the top of his plan.  Call it self-realization or inspiration.  It basically means you accept yourself as part of the great infinite universe, and allow yourself the freedom to influence your own fate.  You’re in charge.  I like starting here because it’s the grand culmination of everything else Patanjali suggests.
  2. Dhyāna: This part of yoga means meditation, or at least being thoughtful.  Think about one thing.  Think about many things.  Think about all things.  It’s OK to meditate in any way you want.  The point is to be able to think, calmly, peacefully, and productively.  Some people truly freak out about meditating.  Don’t.
  3. Dhāraṇā:  Concentration.  This is the part that worries some people regarding meditation.  That’s not what Patanjali was telling us.  For this part of yoga, he’s encouraging us to focus on whatever it is that concerns us.  Family?  Pain in my hip?  Global warming?  Doesn’t matter.  Whatever it is that worries you, or makes you happy, focus on that.  Study it.  Compare it.  Don’t get possessive!
  4. Pratyāhāra:  Did I mention not getting possessive?  That’s what this one is all about.  Chill.  Don’t sweat it.  Back off.  Watch yourself watching.  In the end it’s not about you.  If you can’t do anything about it, then worry less.  If you can, then be patient and spend your energy wisely.
  5. Yama:  These next two items are great, because they correspond to the judeo-christian commandments.  Every religion has do’s and don’ts.  These are the DOs.
  6. Niyama:  The “Ni” means no.  These are the DON’Ts of yoga.
  7. Āsana:  Here’s the exercise part which is how we in the West think of yoga.  You see it’s far down on my list, but that’s not because it’s not important.  It’s rather more a foundation element.  And it doesn’t mean crazy dancer-like postures.  You can run.  You can row.  You can jump or bicycle.  They aren’t as efficient as traditional poses, but they are still your asanas.  Own them.
  8. Prānāyāma:  This is the ultimate foundation of all yoga.  Patanjali is reminding us, that at the bottom of all things, no matter what’s bothering us or what the situation is, JUST BREATH.  Isn’t that great advice?

There you have it.  Ancient wisdom in modern terms.  Patanjali’s 8 point plan in modern parlance.

I recommend it.  I’ve been using it for decades now, and feel great!