Posts Tagged ‘how to live wisely’

Tonight I made chicken Satay.

Spontaneous decision. Thinking too much about have fun is not having fun.

I threw lots of ingredients in this culinary delight. I was missing a few. Who cares. Like I’m going to get it as good as a Thai restaurant anyway.

Live-cook-drool-chew — whatever you have — and do this pre-cognitive.

Live fully, stop thinking overly.

I practiced that today! Had pain. Didn’t overthink it. Hurting sucks. Ignored it! Thinking about things we don’t like makes them worse. I would know. I’m the master of self-inflicted mental torture.

But today, no introspective side trips, no wandering into the unknown future. Made delicious French toast. Whipped cream on top. Espresso on the side. Read. Painted a door. Talked on the phone. Fed the cat. Made Satay.

Again didn’t think much. It’s been said that the unexamined life isn’t worth living. Some truth there. But I say this. The over-examined life isn’t lived worthily.

Much of life is best taken on board like a fish. You just receive it with gratitude and feel lucky you caught it.

Like Satay. Satay, or sate in Indonesian spelling. It’s an Indonesian gift.

I’m so glad it exists.

We’ve eaten chicken Satay in a great little Thai restaurant in Point Loma called Supannee House of Thai. I order it every time there.

Here is the concoction for the consumption: coconut milk, soy sauce, curry powder, turmeric, garlic, ginger, brown sugar, fish sauce smeared and grilled on chicken. It’s especially good dipped in peanut sauce.

To live well is to live with spices and sauces aplenty.

“You think too much,” said my wife recently.

Nailed me!

Over-process; over-suffer. I’d know.

But maybe today just this:





Trash collects in known places  — at the base of walls that barrier its movements and in corners that corral it. Unwanted stuff —  dirt, litter, grime, dead leaves, dust, cat hair and lost insect parts — are commonly harbored underneath raised furniture, hidden in dark nooks under car seats, smothered below couch cushions and sanctuaried in small  crannies and  crevices throughout the earth.

This morning I swept the sidewalk along the east side my house. It always needs sweeping. Dead leaves congregate there, and dirt and bits of paper hold daily convocations there too. That side of my house is a trash convention.

Live anywhere long enough and in the same body for any length of time and you’ll know where to find rogue detritus — under the fingernails and hidden in the epidermal creases of all your lesser and minor planetoids, discrete entities and bio-creaveses.

And what about that which is not that? Where might one find something that doesn’t begged to be cleaned up, something that is fresh and new and bright-eyed and full of verve and laced with the gold vein of  future hope and direction.

Where might one find wisdom, that shifting, blowing, migrating essence of smart living?

One might find it, like one finds trash, in common places.

Wisdom shines from every fissure, riff,  nook, platform, roadway, open shelf and wide roof top of the earth.

Wisdom, says one ancient proverb, cries out from every corner.

I believe that. I see wisdom lurking in every experience, hiding within every challenge,  residing inside of the lining of every problem and taking wing within the potential musings of every person. But there is one place, I have noticed, that wise stuff tends to collect most. Within a breathing, heart pounding, dialoguing relationship with the source of all knowledge and wisdom.

Wisdom, the gold of smart living, is found first, second, third, fourth and every other number in the universal catalogue of  numbers —  natural, whole, interger, rational, irrational or imaginary — in God.

Want wisdom? Then ask God for it; go further, cry out to God for it!

Really want it? Then do not let up in this single, beautiful and too seldom actioned request: “God, will you waft wise bits of  smart thought and way down my mental sidewalks and into the tiny creases and crannies of my small brain?

Mind blowingly, He will.