Category Archives: Conscience

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DONE.

DONE.

Step One of My Three-Step Self-Improvement Plan:
Make a list of 21 Random Important Goals.

Quick Note about Conscience and Self-esteem

For my most recent post, I created a new category “Self-esteem” because I offhandedly acknowledged that I needed to improve myself in order to feel better about myself. I felt sure I had a category already established under which to nest Self-esteem. The category “Conscience” stood out among the others.

Choosing to partner these two concepts brings this to light, something I may have hidden from myself the past couple years; depression lowers ones self-esteem. This may seem to be an unremarkable revelation, and you may wonder why “Conscience” triggered this awareness.

As a Psychology student, some years ago, I felt that self-esteem was a useless term for research or clinical purposes. Tonight, I realize that I am compelled to measure and increase it in my own life.

My conscience is something I’ve almost always been able to feel good about. But, as I was nesting self-esteem within conscience, I wondered how highly I actually esteem my conscience at this time.

We needn’t doubt that life’s stresses and challenges can weaken us morally. When I say “morally,” I mean it as defined by ones personal, individual standards (which ought to be very high, as far as the eye can see, as far as I’m concerned, but for this note, I’m speaking of the private conscience.)

Maybe lowered self-esteem has made me second-guess myself. Sometimes, it feels as though I have too much confidence, which I think is an even more painful symptom. These are possible parts of a theory — I would never have thought could be proven (to me).

As these concepts met in my mind, the task at hand was choosing which to be parent and which to be child. Which came first, the conscience or the self-esteem. I never knew what self-esteem was until I began to lose it. Now, that I can feel the abstract meaning of it, I can appreciate the importance of helping certain people come to terms with it.

As the blog’s first year stretches long, I recall its title and purpose: Seeking My Conscience. If I make any breakthroughs, you’ll be the first to know.

War Eagle

Morality is something we all think about; even sociopaths have opinions on the subject.  Right now, my thoughts on morality are so muddled in disappointment with mankind — myself included —  I may see the soul’s dark night. I hope my internal compass is true (whatever that means) and whether or not being true to myself could be called a virtue–I have no way of knowing.

I’ve begun to read the Bible, the Catholic version, that is. Some of the things I find there impress me as being wise and helpful. I don’t know what the explanation is for them being left out of the Good Book I believed so long was the complete, infallible word of god. I used to think it was right to believe without questioning.

As I write this, my life-long family of Alabamians is experiencing a spirituality I will never know, Iron Bowl consciousness. It seems like a powerful use of expanded mental focus. Like another plane of reality. A lucid dream shared by millions. My impression is that it’s no more enlightening than any other aspect of mass consciousness. such as consumerism, or fascination with British royalty.

But, there’s just so much I don’t know.

At any rate, I didn’t mean to make so much of this being game day. It came to me after I googled “Dark Night of the Soul”.

I love you wordpress people. Pray for me.

Vicki.

PS War Eagle

 

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Deep Thoughts on Poverty

Deep Thoughts on Poverty

My favorite one is the last on the list:

“If the misery of the poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin.” –Charles Darwin, Voyage of the Beagle

A little about my history– both long ago and recent

This blog is about seeking my conscience. I have not forgotten that. Since day three of 2013, I’ve felt that theme while writing here, and more importantly been constantly aware of it as a major theme in my life, my personality, my  joy and despair.

I became a born-again Christian at the age of eight. At that time, I made a conscious decision to believe that Jesus was ready to fill me with joy and love, even though I was every bit as wicked as other miserable sinners. In my heart, it was particularly significant for me to identify at that point in time with the sins of my parents against me, and against each other.

A few years later, having already established a rapport  with God and/or Jesus, I read an article in Life Magazine about the world’s religions. I was particularly excited about the notion of reincarnation; however, uncertainty and trauma peppered my childhood to such extent that I prayed to God then and there, that if reincarnation was real, please let this be the last one for me. In a way, that became my life goal from there on, to “git-er-dun” –get done with human suffering, whatever life beyond human existence might be. At the same time, understand–I wanted to be aligned with God, not the other way.

I tell you this so you will know that my personal moral background has been tied in to the belief that there does exist an intelligent power greater than humanity, or perhaps an order beyond human perception, that nonetheless connects us to the great beyond of energy–of cause and effect.

If you look into some of the blogs I follow, you will see represented a wide range of spiritualities and philosophies. I wish all of those bloggers would know that I appreciate knowing about their seeking as I continue with my own.

The month of June has been eventful. I found a good man to cut my grass, and one to sit for my dog. I traveled. I danced. I saw Lester. I reunited with a dear friend who had unfriended me. I re-acquainted with someone who probably didn’t know how dear she was to me 30 years ago. I salvaged little black dog from poisoning (That which doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger–though more debt ridden– seems to be the lesson there.) I got another deferment on student loans…and am presently recuperating from the first common cold I’ve had in years.

What I’ve written so far has left me exhausted for the time being, but I hope to get back on here soon and clean up my categories. If I succeed, I will proudly announce completion of the work.

 

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Dog Under Stairs

Dog Under Stairs

Tigger, aka Nosferatu

If a dog whines

in his crate under the stairs, and his owner has lost her mind…

does the amplified sound shatter her skull, or

do they both find fitful sleep in wee hours?

Sorry to be so crass.

I should share some good news.  My dog is feeling much better. He is supposed to have another week of bed rest, but I suspect being a good patient is too much for him at this point. The doc was worried about his knee, said it “popped”. I don’t know what that means, but I’m glad he didn’t x-ray it.

I miss my other sick friend. Wish I could feel some peace about that one.  I am so scared for him. . . and being scared makes me want to run.

I’m not sure why I post the following song: “Refugee” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. It reminds me vaguely of my friend’s situation, but his plight is serious. He is a refugee.

I used to think of this song as something I wished I had heard as an over-protected teenager.

Like I said, I’m not sure why… but I will let the song belong at this place in my life’s blog.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-TBpKGACmw

 

 

 

 

 

Why can’t I find the missing piece?

Wondered what I missed, while life and death poured down upon me– the face of God had seemed to promise no time to wonder. For the first time in so long, all my biological survival needs were met, and I had a purpose; I was like a fetus, floating in nourishment, but having also awareness. My home became the womb. My house guest and I were the center of our universe. My purpose as both mother and twin to each of us was to feed and develop him and me.

He can be a difficult person–can’t we all.

He gets paranoid about my phone calls.

He has recent, severe brain damage. I have to be symbiotic.

I don’t mind the symbiosis, but if he insists on intentionally obstructing me more and more as his condition improves, as he always has, I will ultimately feel defeated again–and this will have proved to be not a last chance for him, but instead, just another lesson for me in — what, I don’t know.

The missing piece– I realized when I was wondering this morning– is writing in this blog.

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At the gateway of justice

At the gateway of justice.

I first ‘pressed’ this without commentary, but when I went back and looked, it was just a link. You couldn’t see the article. If what you see is just a link, please click on it. I don’t want to say more. My words do not belong in this place at this time.

About Last Night

If you have happened to see what I reblogged from Dandelion last night, and you have been following me for a bit–and have a clue about my disposition, you might be a surprised to read that I’m feeling happy so far this morning… and if you care about any of that, perhaps you’ll read on…

Now, before I go on, I want you to know that this is not a post about my feelings, but if I weren’t feeling happy, I wouldn’t be able to write about such things as what I posted last night. Also, since this is going to get a little political, I want to remind you that I really do intend for this to be a personal blog and not a political one.

But, since it is a blog about my conscience, it’s fitting to consider such things as those youtube videos I reblogged from Dandelion.

—————————————————– Listen, I’m going to have to do this in parts. I’ve gotten suddenly extremely frustrated–and a head-ache.

What happened was my sweet, new, exceptionally intelligent dog went out to poop, and once again came back in smacking his lips from some garbage food my evil neighbors 150 feet from me tempt him with to upset his stomach and make him fart on me because they hate me….. and try to use whatever dog I own against me. . . YEAH!!! You know.

So, I had to scold him, shame him. tell him that since he liked the food outside, then “NO FOOD IN THE HOUSE!” Of course I’d already shared sardines and “Lotus Biscoff” with him for our breakfast dessert; so, you know who had the last laugh.

By then my ears were turning red, and I had forgotten how to make WordPress work for me. I don’t know which is worse, impinging senility or the conspiracy of user interfaces on the internet.  (And I do apologize, although neither of those things is my fault.) By the time I found where I had saved the draft, so I could go back and check some things on the posts I was going to talk about, I had been reduced back to a needy, helpless American citizen with but two prayers: to be left alone, and for gasoline prices to go down.

I’m going to post this much now, because I can’t help losing my mind–but, I’m trying to keep track of my conscience.