From a quiet stroll through Lakeview Cemetery this afternoon.

I’ve decided to do a bit of minor tweaking and rearranging of my blog content. As of today, the blog content on this, my main site, will be limited to science, words, music and pictures. Going forward, I will post very little “personal” information or anecdotes in this space. I recently launched a new blog space at thereisnopath.org. All posts relating to my “personal journey” will end up there.

Most people I know tend to lose their appetite when stressed or at the onset of an illness. I tend to be the exact opposite and find myself running like a madman to comfort food. And so it is that I find myself having gained back fifteen of the thirty-three pounds I lost over the fall and winter of 2008. I am beyond exasperated at this development.

Yesterday I once again started bringing my own breakfast and lunch to work along with bottled water to fill-in the gaps wherein I tend to snack like a latchkey kid home alone with an unlocked cupboard full of sugar-filled bakery goods. I need to focus on getting back into my routine and avoid sabotaging my progress when I get home from work.

Most importantly, I need to get a better grip on the emotional and financial drama going on in my life at the moment. By and large the stress comes from waiting for the proverbial “shoe to drop.” Probabilities circle the periphery like vultures waiting for a wounded animal to die. At some point, it knows it’s going to be consumed and the stress manifests from the anticipation of the first bite.

In many important ways the eventual outcome of any particular situation is out of my immediate control. Presently, it is essential I begin to prepare for the most likely outcomes on all fronts and recalibrate my life accordingly – with the full knowledge that even after certain wheels are set in motion, the days, weeks and months ahead are likely to be filled with mini-moments resembling the past year or so. In knowing this – and in coming to terms with this – I hope I can better manage my overall stress, health and happiness, thus allowing me to move on and (eventually) regain my footing.

I have never needed or wanted a hundred different friends or lovers interested in only tiny, different peices of what I am. I have only ever needed one to love me for exactly who I am.

– James Curts Smith (06.14.09)

By Shira Medding

JERUSALEM (CNN) — It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise, but turned into the shock of a lifetime.

A woman in Tel Aviv, Israel, gave her elderly mother a new mattress as a surprise gift, throwing out the old tattered bed her mother had slept on for decades. The gesture ended up bankrupting Annat’s mother, who had stuffed her savings of nearly $1 million inside her old bed for decades, Annat told Israel Army Radio.

A massive search is under way at the city dump, where security has been beefed up to keep out treasure-seekers who have heard Annat’s story in Israeli media.

Annat, who did not want to reveal the rest of her name, told Israel Army Radio that she woke up early Sunday to get a good deal on a new mattress as a surprise for her mother.

She fell asleep that night, exhausted after lugging up the new mattress and hauling down the old one to be taken out with the trash.

When her mother realized the next day what her daughter had done, she told her that she had been using the mattress to stash away her life savings and had nearly $1 million padding the inside of the worn-out mattress.

Annat ran downstairs, but it was too late. The garbage truck had already taken away the money-stuffed mattress.

Annat alerted the two major dump sites in the Israeli city in an effort to locate the bed, but so far she has had no luck. Yitchak Burba, one of the dump site managers, told Army Radio that he and his men are working relentlessly to try to help Annat find the million-dollar mattress among the tons of garbage at the landfill.

The publicity has triggered a wave of people also trying to find the mattress and its contents for themselves. Burba has increased security around the dump to keep them out.

Annat told Army Radio that when her mother realized her queen-sized bank had been tossed, she told her to "’leave it.’"

"’The heart is crying but you know we could have been in a car accident or had a terminal disease,’" Annat said her mother told her.

Annat is also taking the situation in stride.

"It’s a very, very sad story but I’ve been through worse," she told Army Radio. "It’s a matter of proportions in life … people need to know how to accept the good and the bad in life."

Original article on CNN.com.

Almost by accident I started rereading A Sense of The Cosmos – Scientific Knowledge and Spiritual Truth by Jacob Needleman at nearly the same time I rediscovered my 5-CD audio version of The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality by His Holiness The 14th Dalai Lama. It has been interesting to hear the Gurdjieff scholar and the Buddhist monk elaborate on the similarities and disparities between religion, spirituality and science.

I’ll elaborate on each at some point in the future. Right now my mind is rather muddled. In the interim, I encourage you to visit my “quotables” page for a sampling of the words of wisdom from these two great people along with many more of my favorite spiritual leaders, philosophers, writers, thinkers, poets and musicians.

These past two days I performed my civic duty by sitting on a Summit County Common Pleas jury. The case before us was an automobile accident and injury claim. Despite being a registered voter for over twenty-six years, this was my first call to jury duty. I have to say I have mixed emotions about the experience.

I won’t go into specifics about the case. I will say only that the choice in these matters came down to which of the two parties was telling the fewest untruths. It was clear both sides were withholding information and/or embellishing what really happened. In the end, we had to decide the case within the strict confines of the law, and so rendered our judgment in favor of the defendant. I am pleased to say that although a simple 6-2 majority was all that was needed, each of our verdicts was rendered unanimously. To a person we all felt some discomfort over dismissing the plaintiffs charges entirely, but felt they failed to prove their case sufficiently and sought damages and compensation far in excess of what seemed appropriate. In the end, the defense had a stronger attorney and made a better case for his client. Not airtight – but better.

More than anything, I think we all felt that this kind of case should have never made it to the courtroom. My wife and I – on separate occasions and in different cars – both experienced accidents – or aspects of accidents – very similar to what was on trial over these past two days. In each instance, we managed to settle our differences with the other parties involved without involving the court system. I feel certain that had we entered either claim into the legal system we would have been awarded much more money than the meager amounts used to settle property and medical expenses. However, neither my wife nor I felt comfortable with the “embellishment” that was suggested as a means to garner the highest judgment. In the end, we simply asked for an amount that put us “back to even” and went about our business. I feel strongly that had either party in the case we judged today sought a similar path, a lot of time, energy and money would not have been wasted.

It was an interesting experience to go through, although I won’t be disappointed if it takes them another twenty-six years to call me to my next jury service.

This past weekend I had the soundtrack to the film “O Brother, Where Art Thou? ” in heavy rotation on the car stereo. That music brings back a flood of memories for me regarding my childhood and adolescence, my family and my musical beginnings. While my immediate family demonstrates very little in the way of musical talent or ability, my extended family of Aunts, Uncles and Cousins are a veritable ocean of intrinsic musical wonder. From my earliest age of remembrance, I recall the sights and sounds of impromptu jam sessions on porches, under the shade of trees or at the banks of rivers and creeks. You can still trace the majority of my playing “style” to those early days spent staring at fingers flying across strings while my family members and their friends played standards from the Gospel and Americana canon. Even the somber tone of much of my music has its roots in the melancholic moods of early Gospel and Roots music.

To this day my biggest musical influence remains my cousin Roger. A freckled, red-headed high school drop-out with a mild learning disability, Roger found his true calling with a guitar in his hands. As soon as our car stopped moving I would race from my grandparent’s driveway, up the hill to my cousin’s house. I spent most of my waking hours during school breaks and summer vacations sitting in front of Roger while he played for hours on end. Too shy to make use of his repeated attempts to show me how to play, I nevertheless absorbed all that I could and then attempted to reproduce it at home – at first on stolen moments with my elder sister’s guitar and later with my own guitar.

These memories coincide with the thoughts and considerations of recent days and weeks. When I think back to those early days I recall the poverty and hardship of all but a select few members of my extended family. I recall how very little they had, yet how happy they were nearly every moment of every day. They found joy in the simple things in life – family, friends, tending their farms and making music. Though they had little, what they did own they treated with near holy reverence and appreciation. Their guitars, violins and other assorted instruments shined as if brand new. Though their own bodies were often bent or broken, their instruments were kept to immaculate standards. Those who could afford nothing beyond the most modest of instruments still treated each piece with reverence and gratitude. I contrast these memories with our modern designed obsolescence, throwaway culture and I can’t help but be sickened a little.

Poor Ol’ Tom, his story’s true
He’s got nothin’ to show, no one to show it to

– Peter Case (Poor Ol’ Tom)

In retrospect, I learned a lot more than just music from these people. Anyone who knows me – even a little bit – knows I have a strong populist bent to my politics and personality. My need to fight for the less fortunate stems from my upbringing amongst an entire clan of less-fortunates. These were proud, hard working people with simple needs and I saw how easily – and completely – they were ignored by society and the system.

Many of these wondrous spirits have passed on from old age or a variety of illnesses and ailments that regularly take those who work the hardest yet lack adequate health care. And, while it’s been a few years since I’ve managed to talk with those who remain, I have never forgotten the lessons I learned as a young boy. I am thankful beyond words for what they brought into my life and for the perspective I have been blessed with for having been raised among them. Though I am, myself from very modest means, not a day passes that I don’t thank the heavens for the blessings I have in my life.

And so I continue to ponder the mysteries of life and how I can best be of service to my fellow man. I continue to try and reconcile that oldest of Buddhists teachings – to be “in this world, but not of it.” I look to rekindle the inscrutability and wonder that is the human condition. At times it’s a very tall order for a “bear of very little brain.” However, I am determined to reclaim that innocence that was me, my creative energy and my sense of purpose and revelation. Perhaps reinvention isn’t what is necessary. It may simply be a matter of becoming myself again.