Jersey Shore, 11.18 a.m.

It’s late November, a crisp, clear, windy day at the Jersey Shore. Months before, when the weather was warmer, the beach was thronged with kids, families, beachcombers and others who were taking in the warm sun and view of the ocean. Today, only a handful of people are there, trying not to be knocked over in the gutsy northwest wind.  A dog owner gives chases as his canines slip their leash and make a run for it up the sand. A hooded fisherman stands on the jetty, casting a line and maybe searching a fresh lunch. A lone woman clambers up another jetty, standing tall and contemplating…something. Joggers huff and puff down the boardwalk. A father and son play catch. And birds dive-bomb into the water, catching a fish unaware. Me, sitting on a bench, drinking coffee and bundling up against the cold and wind.

What is it about the ocean that draws us to it, especially in the waning days of autumn? It may be the peace of the place, long after the crowds and heat have dissipated, where you hear just the wind and waves crash against the shore. The vastness of what lies in front you leads to contemplation–who am I? Where am I in the world? Where will I go? Did I lock my car?

You know, the big questions.

In another life, or if I win the lottery, my dream house wouldn’t be huge, but it would sit on the beach. To watch the sun rise, the storms roll in, and to see the Milky Way at night.

I mean really, I get it.

I know everyone wants some attention. Some want their shot at fame and fortune. Some get blinded by the spotlights. Others, seemingly are willing jeopardize national security for their chance at 15 minutes somewhere on the cable listings.

Seriously people. Are you that desperate for attention, that flippin’ needy that you need to crash a state dinner at the White House to get on TV? I suppose it’s better than eating worms or wading through frigid water, but I’d rather swallow a creepy crawler than have the Secret Service knocking on my door.

The Salahis, Obama’s Uninvited Guests, Prompt an Inquiry – NYTimes.com.

I tend to write more (if not better) if I’m upset. It’s as if I have so much roiling around inside me that writing is one way (sometimes the best way) to get it out. It’s good therapy–read the comment by redbearwoman and see.

A Happy Writer Is a Lousy Writer? | GOOD.

In the U.S., today is the day we give thanks for our families, our health, our friends. What we do today, as we sit in living rooms, partake of a lovingly prepared meal, we do everyday–give thanks to those who nurture us and sustain us.

When it comes to cars, I’m an automatic man. To see me attempt to drive a manual transmission is bordering on the criminal. I guess I’m lazy and don’t want to learn. Besides, much of my driving is in traffic–rowing through gears doesn’t sound really enticing. Anyway, the prospect of paddle shifters on more plebian cars (like the one I drive) does go a long way to fulfill my dream of being a Formula One driver…

DRIVING WITH A DOPPELKUPPLUNGSGETRIEBE | More Intelligent Life.

When I fly to Brussels, I want a real-live human flying the plane

Air Travel – Salon.com.

The date on my driver’s license says it. And so do the one or two little gray hairs popping up on my head. Even though I’m 37, there are times, plenty as a matter of fact, that I don’t feel like it. Mind you, I don’t feel older–in fact, I feel younger than that. I feel like I can (still) accomplish some things for myself and for others. And yes, still have fun at the same time. And still keep a child-like wonder. Here’s to not feeling my age. And here’s to more of it.

I don’t admire Paulo Coelho, I love him. To ask people who hate you to comment on your blog? Brilliant. And cleansing, for those who hate him, and maybe for himself.

Por que odeio Paulo Coelho/ Why I hate Paulo Coelho at Paulo Coelho’s Blog.

The setting for this link is odd, yes, but the article on three great introvert traits and Issac Newton is a must-read.

Office Chairs Online » Would you Hire Sir Isaac Newton, the Introvert?.

The late-evening edition…

It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

— William Faulkner

Watch the Yankees win Game 6 of the World Series–in three minutes. A great video montage…

Showcase: 12,000-Faceted Diamond – Lens Blog – NYTimes.com.

The best way out « “You Quoted” – Motivational, Inspirational, Famous Quotes.

Being an introvert, and having lived in rainy Brussels, I really liked this cartoon…

Meet The Introverts » Archive » Rain And The Introverts.

Two thoughts this morning, both sort of related.

—–

I was reading a story about a guy who broke out of jail using only a flip-flop. Go figure. I’m not advocating mass jailbreaks, but here’s an idea–we are sometimes in jails of our own making, that we know we should get out of. Maybe we’ll be inventive enough to use a flip-flop to escape. Maybe it won’t take that much.

—–

Even if you never travel the globe, and visit some far-off land, don’t keep your world small.

I’ve been there, and high school’s a rough time for most anybody, especially an introvert.

Hated For Who I Am… : I Am An Introvert Story & Experience.

Yours truly fancies himself a writer, and remains an INTJ.

Are all writers introverts? Are you? Take the Jung typology test and find out! « Julie Lomoe’s Musings Mysterioso.

This guy must love that class to pull off that commute. Makes my one-hour commute seem like a milk run.

Obscure Store and Reading Room: Oklahoma man drives 1,680 miles every week for improv class.

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts, and feelings, as something separated from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. The striving to free oneself from this delusion is the one issue of true religion. Not to nourish the delusion but to try to overcome it is the way to reach the attainable measure of peace of mind.”–Albert Einstein

(hat tip, which is a really interesting program featuring a Buddhist monk who used to be a cellular biologist–”the happiest man in the world”)

It’s strange–kind of–when you dream about something, a minor thing really, and it ends up coming true in your waking life. It’s as if your subconscious is giving you a preview of coming attractions. But are you smart enough to realize what you are seeing? Ah, questions, questions…

Being a Dallas Cowboys fan, it’s ingrained that you’re to hate the Washington Redskins. But, there are three guys connected with that team who I respect: Art Monk, the receiver (it took too long for him to get into the Hall of Fame); Joe Gibbs, and John Riggins. And I knew there was something about Riggins that I liked. A friend says of him, “John’s an introvert.” You’d never guess from the he way he spouts off on YouTube, or rips into the Redskins’ owner. But it makes sense.

WashingtonPost.

Here is a fantastic video by John Cleese on how to cultivate the creative mind–it’s really simple once you think about it…

(hat tip)

If dreams aren’t (just?) a way to work through problems, but a way for the brain to stay warm through the night, what about the bridge dream I had last night?

Mind – Dreams as Anticipation for the State of Being Awake – NYTimes.com.

There I was on a beautiful Saturday afternoon driving along, when it ht me:

I don’t need anything. Spiritually or materially. Wants, yes of course. But that’s what I to drive and motivate me, the wants. The needs seems to hod me down, as if I have to do them. There’s a since of freedom in wants, sort of like walking through a buffet and choosing your vittles–being in a position of having choices instead of being forced. There’s a lightness in wants, and not a heaviness in needs.

To me, at least.

The sad part is, I’ll forget this at some point.

The great part is, I’ll remember this at some point.

But now, what do I do with the (re)discovered epiphany?

Have you ever been doing something small, nothing of real consequence, and then you get hit with an epiphany? I did this weekend. It was like walking through the looking glass. Both liberating and scary at the same time. Details coming later–I’m still processing it.

Here’s a reason why New Jersey isn’t half-bad. The sun is setting over a beautiful, unusually warm fall day, and the Canada geese that winter here in central Jersey are arriving, and they are making such a cacophony to herald their coming, and the coming of the night. It’s a wonderful noise.

Not sure what this one’s gonna go…

lots of complaints today about the yankees “buying” a world series title–total bunk. you can have all the money in the world, and still not have a damn bit of common sense. the old saw of money not buying happiness is true. knowing what you’re doing counts more than your bank account.

i was wondering if i was holding out to something, unable to “move on,” and the answer keeps bouncing back, no. this ol’ heart of mine, as the song goes, remains the same as it ever was.

i was wondering was i being stubborn about things. no, i feel like i’m on the right course. i don’t want to be arrogant about things. arrogance to me is not being awake.

i’m listening to the live version of “spanish moon” by little feat. awesome guitar in it.

sometimes i say to myself, i need to meditate more. then i go, well, just meditate where you are. sometimes things in life are really that simple.

i don’t worry about being a writer writer here, right now.

i was thinking the other day–what i have or don’t have, doesn’t define me. i am whole, as i am, right now. (i’m not saying can’t improve–i certainly can.) why do we give up our wholeness? isn’t that–shouldn’t that–be sacred? why do others want us to be less whole? what is the problem? how can we be of true service to others if we are not whole ourselves? explain it to be because i don’t get it. i am whole, right now. a car, a house, a girlfriend, an iphone–none of those makes me whole. that falls on my shoulders. there is so much that i am capable of being. and being whole is part and parcel on that.

chehaw says all of the above with a smile on his face.

can i be a friend from far away, carry someone in my heart through the silence? certainly can. certainly am.

writing is meditation. living is meditation.

The Warrior tries to enjoy the small everyday things of life. [Like World Series wins]

–Paulo Coelho

A Warrior knows that a great dream is made up of many different things, just as the light from the sun is the sum of its millions of rays.

As Coehlo is this Rumi poem…

Sunlight: [Sunlight] Pride and humility.

Right here, but it bears repeating–alone and lonely aren’t the same thing. The lonely/alone continuum always trips people up. You be lying next to someone, and still feel marooned on another planet, or sitting on the beach looking at the ocean by yourself, and feel free and alive.

What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlonely being alone can be.

- Ellen Burstyn

I’m reading (again) Paulo Coelho’s Warrior of the Light: A Manual. I’m trying to pluck out some of the best parts that resonate with me, and I’ll try to post a few…

Sometimes, we have a tendency to want to be so much like everyone else, that was forget who we as individuals are. Why are we so scared of being alone? I’m not knocking the comforts of a group, but can we keep our identity while a part of that group?