I Don't Feel No Ways Tired
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Growing up, I remember hearing my Mother and Grandmother advising "Follow your first mind" when decisions, especially major ones, were called for. Not only did they provide that counsel, they followed their (own) advice. How well did they do? I really can't recall. Yet, I know they lived full, fruitful lives. No, we were not as "rich as Rockefeller," but we weren't poor as church mice either. Sociologically, the University of Chicago researchers who haunted our Near North Side neighborhoods, probably labeled us "working class," or "lower middle class."
Since we were not that "socially conscious" or had not been indoctrinated into the "politically correct" dogma of the day, and certainly hadn't read their "Findings," we were content to be who we were. We ate meat or poultry usually once a week---Sunday dinners. Certainly, we didn't know we might have qualified as "almost" vegetarians, Mondays through Fridays. Dinner on Saturday was up-for-grabs; we relished the hamburgers or hot dogs (on real buns, guys!) that marked the eve of Sunday-Go-to-meetings:
I remember doing our chores with minimal complaining; getting our hair done; or being treated to a revered trip Downtown to F.W. Woolworths or Goldblatt's department store. Hot dogs loaded with pickle relish, mustard,and chopped onions. Pretzels , beautifully bronzed and dotted with coarse salt. Half pound chocolate-covered pecans clusters in small white bags for under two dollars. Heaven? No doubt, heaven!
But back to "following your first mind," which is difficult to do if you're the product of an education system mired in the Age of Reason, a dictum that taught that everything postulated must be provable. It represented one of the reasons for my disenchantment with organized religion (and later, spirituality). I remember the Time magazine cover that asked "Is God Dead?" For the life of me, I can't remember its conclusion. Maybe it gave none. Like most college kids, I flirted with atheism and agnosticism. At some point, I put myself in a "time out," a "Stop the World I Want to Get Off" mode. And like a bear in hibernation, I woke up, slimmer in "isms," albeit, in the same world I had left.
To be truthful, I didn't initiate so much as react to what life offered. Did I follow my "first mind" 50, 60, 70, or 80 percent of the time? No. No. No. Yet, at mid-career, midlife, it became imperative for me to learn to trust, first God and then myself. An arduous process, fraught with rocky roads and steep hills, I grew up. Whew! Afterwards, I plotted where I walked with a sure stride, shoulders back, and head up. I stopped being so hard on myself and rigid with others. I relaxed, and began my quest for a spiritual life. One that relied on "Somebody bigger than you and I."
I continue my quest for wisdom, knowledge, discernment, and understanding so much so that "I don't feel noways tired. I've come too far from where I started from. Nobody told me that the road would be easy, But I don't believe He brought me this far to leave me."
Growing up, I remember hearing my Mother and Grandmother advising "Follow your first mind" when decisions, especially major ones, were called for. Not only did they provide that counsel, they followed their (own) advice. How well did they do? I really can't recall. Yet, I know they lived full, fruitful lives. No, we were not as "rich as Rockefeller," but we weren't poor as church mice either. Sociologically, the University of Chicago researchers who haunted our Near North Side neighborhoods, probably labeled us "working class," or "lower middle class."
Since we were not that "socially conscious" or had not been indoctrinated into the "politically correct" dogma of the day, and certainly hadn't read their "Findings," we were content to be who we were. We ate meat or poultry usually once a week---Sunday dinners. Certainly, we didn't know we might have qualified as "almost" vegetarians, Mondays through Fridays. Dinner on Saturday was up-for-grabs; we relished the hamburgers or hot dogs (on real buns, guys!) that marked the eve of Sunday-Go-to-meetings:
I remember doing our chores with minimal complaining; getting our hair done; or being treated to a revered trip Downtown to F.W. Woolworths or Goldblatt's department store. Hot dogs loaded with pickle relish, mustard,and chopped onions. Pretzels , beautifully bronzed and dotted with coarse salt. Half pound chocolate-covered pecans clusters in small white bags for under two dollars. Heaven? No doubt, heaven!
But back to "following your first mind," which is difficult to do if you're the product of an education system mired in the Age of Reason, a dictum that taught that everything postulated must be provable. It represented one of the reasons for my disenchantment with organized religion (and later, spirituality). I remember the Time magazine cover that asked "Is God Dead?" For the life of me, I can't remember its conclusion. Maybe it gave none. Like most college kids, I flirted with atheism and agnosticism. At some point, I put myself in a "time out," a "Stop the World I Want to Get Off" mode. And like a bear in hibernation, I woke up, slimmer in "isms," albeit, in the same world I had left.
To be truthful, I didn't initiate so much as react to what life offered. Did I follow my "first mind" 50, 60, 70, or 80 percent of the time? No. No. No. Yet, at mid-career, midlife, it became imperative for me to learn to trust, first God and then myself. An arduous process, fraught with rocky roads and steep hills, I grew up. Whew! Afterwards, I plotted where I walked with a sure stride, shoulders back, and head up. I stopped being so hard on myself and rigid with others. I relaxed, and began my quest for a spiritual life. One that relied on "Somebody bigger than you and I."
I continue my quest for wisdom, knowledge, discernment, and understanding so much so that "I don't feel noways tired. I've come too far from where I started from. Nobody told me that the road would be easy, But I don't believe He brought me this far to leave me."
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