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It struck me this week that Jesus really sealed the deal when he messed with the money. He came in to Jerusalem amongst Hosannas and took a long look around at the temple. The next day he kicked the money changers out. Not a rash act. He thought about it at least a few hours ahead. If not for that they might have let him live, but you mess with people's livelihood and heads will roll. He had to know that. So it was more than passive surrender to his fate. He consciously acted.

I don't really know what my point is, but it's Easter and so I get to talk about Jesus. There are so many facets to the man's personality, it's like he is all colors blended together: white that isn't pure, but whole.

Heard a speaker this week talk about how the energy behind Osama Bin Laden and Al Quaida is awakened from centuries ago. He compared it to movies like "The Mummy" where ancient thoughts were released into the modern world, and talked of healing that hurtful, warring energy.

Earlier in the day I had seen this statue outside the fence of the Wimberley cemetery.



The face caught my attention first and then the fact that is wasn't inside the fence. I wondered why a marker was outside the fence. Surely it couldn't be a suicide. But when I stopped to look closer all came clear: 9-11-01.

Try as we might to ignore and fence off unhappy things, someone had acknowledged our modern reality. Our young men and women are committed to meeting this new enemy on their turf, taking the war back to them. Keep it away from us at all costs. Meantime, who is a terrorist among us? And what are our public servants doing behind the scenes to keep us safe?

By all means we are dealing with the issues at hand: the security problems, the terrorist leaders and organizations. But problems are never solved on the level they are created. Here we are in the god of war's month, March. It's warm enough to wage battle again, or in the case of desert war, it's not too hot.

This is also the green month. St. Patrick's Day. I've heard that it's a bigger holiday in America than Ireland. But the Irish have embraced it as the start of their tourist season. Perhaps the Irish will be the ones to save us. Can we transform the warring energy of mankind into useful, positive actions? Can we recycle and go green in our dealings with each other as nations and people? Probably not on our own. But many, many people of all faiths are turning to the Higher Power. Is that the figure larger than the towers on the memorial?

Our planet, our world needs renewed energy on all levels. I believe it is possible; that the Higher Power or Universe will manifest it IF we do our job: pray, listen, take action - one day at a time. And as the wonderful Thomas Friedman says - it's all about scale. If enough people do something (and I suspect we are), it will make a difference. Things will change.

Now, it's up to sci-fi storytellers, indeed any storyteller, to show how such a world may work. Utopia no. But how is there conflict and change on higher, constructive levels? We know it's in the stars somewhere.



Our high school Band of Warriors about to march in the Chicago St. Patrick's Day parade.

Lucky to be posting because I cannot for the life of me make out the two test words to prove that I'm a human and forgot my password.

Just really wanted to record a synchronicity:

I finished Anne Tyler's "Digging to America" on Christmas Eve with tears running down my cheeks along with the surprise main character running toward her destiny. The humanity of this woman's books blows me away. Her insights on the human experience - in this instance the healing process after the death of a loved one - amazed me again. And even though all her books are set in Baltimore, I felt I got an inside look at the truth of Iranian-American families. The unforgettable Yazdens.

Then here in Texas a man dressed as Santa killed his family while opening gifts on Christmas day. The police were alerted by a 911 call that was silent inside the apartment. When they got there everyone was dead.

The follow-up story this morning reported the name of the man as Aziz Yazdanpanah. I recognized the ancestry as soon as I read the name. They were Iranian immigrants here for 30 years. And I felt I had much more insight into the story behind the story because of just finishing "Digging." Before that book these people, this family, would have been "other" - a mystery. Now, I identify with them as fellow, feeling humans with unique personalities. Good people with flaws. I can imagine the middle-aged sisters, so close. The brother-in-law and the two teenagers. The father (and killer) volunteered at his daughters' speech tournament.

They had lost their home to foreclosure, although he continued to live there and take care of it. She had filed for divorce. He couldn't find work. She had a cosmetology license and worked at two spas, only after he said she could when he lost his job.

The AP article (much better than the Reuters) said the Persian community was devastated. Thanks to Ms. Tyler, I too am grieving the loss of fellow humans moreso that I would have before her book.

A high school football coach died on the first day of practice. Maybe if global warming starts impacting football, the good old boys will get on board the green wagon.

The yew tree under which the Magna Carta was signed on June 15, 1215 is still alive, but the oaks of Galveston are gone. Hurricane Ike's sea-water flood killed them.

The yew tree has endured man's greed and/or need for its use as a weapon of war (longbow) and cancer treatment. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxus_
Between those two it's a wonder there are any left. With the first one it was the tree itself growing crooked that saved many from destruction. With the second, a modern ecological conflict is staged and playing out.

I'm going to watch the amazing dancers and choreography on SYTYCD: It's the strongest group of competitors ever. Art will be breaking out all over. Forget that other show, these are the real stars of dance.

Like the dazed young men at prom last night, many in the world just don't get the hoopla behind The Royal Wedding. Once upon a time I would have been one of those scoffers. As an appearance-challenged person, embracing proceedings that so depend upon beauty never seemed like a healthy thing for me. And both weddings and proms have gone way over the top in terms of priceyness. I loved the soundbite from the American couple who quipped that they spent more on The Royal Wedding (street view) than they did on their own wedding.

However, I watched "The King's Speech" this week and fell in love with the story of the whole family, not just Diana. William's great grandfather, George, the Queen's father had such a heart as heroes are made of. He sacrificed so very much. The Queen mother felt he would have lived a longer life had he not had to become King for the abdicating Edward. But a little thing called WWII probably also contributed to his early demise.
Now, I would like to re-watch "The Queen" to see again the insight into her struggles.

So, Friday's proceedings reverberated with me as I tuned in almost accidentally with Barbara Walters and Diane Sawyer after the vows. We all went to church, at least 1/3 of the planet. Has any other reality show taken a third of the planet to church? Catherine's brother was speaking when I joined the service. This family. The Middletons. Who are they that they show such poise and presence? Such confidence. But here I must confess, I thought the mother was Penny Marshal at first glance. Those high cheekbones. Maybe Penny can play Catherine's mom in the Lifetime movie that's sure to come out next year.

I found myself tearing up during the service with no idea why. Perhaps the idea of sharing an event with millions or billions. Perhaps that 30 years ago I was of an age with Diana and recall editing her wedding footage for broadcast on the evening news. Then at her death I did the front page of our daily paper. And these were her boys in these bright uniforms. Wills and Harry. And now Catherine, our Kate, and the Middletons who are anything but middling. And, while we cannot know the personal story, it does seem that Diana's wish that her son marries the one he loves was happening. Love did seem to be present. Who doesn't cry at that? And then it was reported that William bit his lip nervously waiting at the alter, just as Diana used to.

It does seem that while the great uncle King Edward found true love with his Mrs. Simpson, our Wills can do so without shirking his duty. What a nice happy ending, or beginning. Would like to see what Masterpiece Contemporary might do with this family. Would like to see what some of my student writers would do with this family.

Here across the pond we had a prom full of princesses in South Texas. The dresses, hair, makeup and escort accessories were all gorgeous. From glitzy bling to subtle chiffon, teens turned out. It's their final chance to play dress up. You haven't lived until you've seen "the chicken dance" performed in a $6oo dress. There was a nice contrast of rebels in jeans.
The boys brought it too. Several guys came by themselves. They owned their prom and danced. Alone, together, whatever.

And our unique culture shown through with a cowboy hat here and there. The sweetest moment for me was when the dance floor filled up for a popular Selena song, everyone swinging with a Latin beat, including two African American football players in white tuxes, all dancers circling together. As family.

Recovering from an insane work week. I'm finding that that means more than laundry and bills. If I don't sit and write and think, then I ain't right. Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word of God. It's in the Old and New testaments. Must be important.

Heard some wise words last night "Know who you are; be who you are; say who you are." Thank you Duncan.

Scriptfrenzy.org has amazing education/teacher support. This is the screenplay challenge month and I think doing it with my students could be a gas.

Ferris Buehler's Day Off has just become my favorite movie. The script was on frenzy's site. I love to watch it and was aware that it is truly a classic, but now it speaks to me personally with Ferris' last words: Yeah, life is a carousel. A great big crazy ball of pure living, breathing joy and delight. ... You gotta get one.

Ouch. So, when can I call in sick?

A magical concept I read in a Katharine Kerr book resonated with me this week: banishing an image. In the training, image details are pictured as strongly as possible and then at the end of the exercise, the image is exploded into bits and banished. Reminded me of Unity's "affirmations and denial", only that would be for two different things rather than one.

Wouldn't that be a wonderful skill? Banishing images and thoughts that the mind keeps going back to. Things the ego just won't let go, like a blood hound on a scent. Give it a mission and without a resolution, the mind keeps it alive. That's why my students hate it when I interrupt a movie we're watching. They NEED to know the ending.

Anyway, it occurred to me that life is like all the wonderful fantasy novels I'm reading. Each of us finds the magic that works for us. And each of our systems can be different and probably none are exactly the same. But if an honest, loving journey of faith is trodden, well amazing and miraculous synchronicities become the norm. It's only when you look past the day you're in that you loose the grace.