Channel: (v) to take possession of a spirit’s mind for the purpose of communication

Standing in line at the local department store, I was listening to two young women discuss philosophy. Girl 1 said to Girl 2: “No one’s gonna tell me what to do. I’m my own person.”

It gave me pause for thought.

If we have eight billion people on this Earth trying to “be their own person,” we have an emotional explosion which is greater than any
megatons of bombs.

I don’t want to be my own person. I have met him. He is bland, mediocre, nervous, insecure and adds the disgrace of pomposity.

I need to channel greatness.

I would love to channel the spirit of Abraham Lincoln, who uttered, “with malice toward none and charity toward all” just a few days before he was murdered in a theater.

I would like to channel the moment that Thomas Jefferson decided to sheepishly write the phrase, “All men are created equal”–even though he knew he owned slaves.

I would enjoy channeling the fresh, creative, youthful energy of John, Paul, Ringo and George when they brought such singable and danceable music to America.

How about channeling the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth, who in the midst of ignorance and war, told the Earth to “love your neighbor as yourself”?

I would like to channel the spirit of the bear, who has the sense to know when to hibernate, the loyalty of the dog and the devotion of a woman to her man, her children and her cause when she feels that the circumstances are righteous.

And of course, it would be wonderful to channel the moment when God said, “Let us make man in our own image.”

I am not enough and never will be.

When I settle for me,

I end up cheating everyone I see.



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Astronaut: (n) a person who is trained to travel in a spacecraftdictionary with letter A

I am officially an astroNOT.

There are so many reasons I could not be an astronaut. Matter of fact, if people were gathered in a room discussing their ability to be astronauts, I would have to leave because I would have nothing to contribute. And if I suggested I might be suited in any way for the occupation, laughter would ensue.

Let me list the ways that I am astronaut-less:

1. I actually am larger and weigh more than the space capsule in which I would be inserted.

2. Claustrophobia. It is not a good thing to have when you’re living in an enclosure that fits you like a glove.

3. I don’t like toothpaste for brushing my teeth, let alone for squeezing out food from a tube for dinner.

4. Peeing in my spacesuit. Distasteful.

5. Training. Physical training is not at the top of my list for pleasure. I exercise–on occasion–because I am threatened with death.

6. Having megatons of high explosives directly under my ass exploding, with the hopes of propelling me into space.

7. Weightlessness (although I have to admit, it sounds like an easier way to shed pounds).

8. Walking on the moon just seems weird.

9. Sharing a small space with other people who hate you because you’re taking up their space.

10. Returning to Earth.

So you see, I shall never be an astronaut.

I will not pretend I’m an astronaut, nor shall I bore you any further by writing about my weaknesses in becoming an astronaut.

P.S. Yet, my friend, Janet Clazzy, could be an astronaut. (I actually don’t know whether she could or not, but it’s her birthday today, and this was a really cheap way of mentioning it…)


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