Thursday, February 28, 2013
We Are The Storytellers
Inside every human mind is a storyteller. You know, the guy who fills in the blanks. The guy that looks at all of the facts (or as many as he has been trained to), and tells you what's going on from your perspective.
I like to call him Stotler. He's great and all, but what if he isn't always right? What if his intentions are in our best ineterest, but the stories aren't true? Does it really matter? If he's wrong, we are then being told a lie, no matter how well willed that lie is. It's generally some kind of justification.
You see, we believe what we choose to believe and often what we see is some kind of justification for the feelings we have at our core beliefs about ourselves.
Maybe we should all be paying attention to our negative feelings, eh? Just kidding. There's no such thing as maybe. ;)
One that used to come up for me was, "I am not deserving of the love this person has for me" and so my brain would come up with, "She's only being a good friend. She doesn't really care that deeply for you. See how she said that? That means she isn't really interested in you, it's just a 'curtesy flirt'." When, in fact, I knew she really did. It was evident through her state of being, her words, her expressions, her behavior, but my core belief about myself wouldn't have it, so it told me I didn't have enough to offer in what could have easily been the best relationship. ever. (At our age, with the necessary bounderies, taking into account as many of the aspects of future that I could, of course ;) Well, I wish I had cleared all of that up back then, but I hadn't and that is ok.
I have learned and I know that what I thought wouldn't work really would not have worked, even if it had progressed to a serious relationship. Now, however, I have much more of an advantage in shaping those relationships I want and keeping them there, so you all better be prepared for some serious lovin's.
Toodle Oodle Noodle Ooo.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Life Is A Song
Is it possible that we've all been given the same or a similar melody in the ensemble of life?
What I mean to say is, we all have our melody, but it is our decision to make it go wherever musically with whatever lyrics.
Fill your life with splendor and bliss. Not the chocolates, though. Then your life wouldn't be too long. ;)
Think about what words continually appear in your conversations and rewrite them if you aren't satisfied. Be your poet.
Dallin
What I mean to say is, we all have our melody, but it is our decision to make it go wherever musically with whatever lyrics.
Fill your life with splendor and bliss. Not the chocolates, though. Then your life wouldn't be too long. ;)
Think about what words continually appear in your conversations and rewrite them if you aren't satisfied. Be your poet.
Dallin
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Nighttime Ninnies (Part deux)
What is love? Baby don't hurt me. Hahahahahahaha! Take that, memory lane! If you have heard this song, I have reignited the flame of earworm...ism. O_o
Memory number deux.
In the still of the noon, I held you so I wouldn't fall to my doom. Hah. Just kidding.
But seriously, I learned much about the importance of silent observance while in my tree, watching the effect the wind had on each branch or observing the soccer playing Hispanic teams practicing for hours on end. This was also my time to be by myself. It was the only time I was free of any communication to the visible world around me and my only time to feel grounded while feeling free like the wind. It was when I was most at ease with everything, in my neutral state.
Why then, if I did this many, many times, did this one time stay with me?
Let me explain.
One day, I decided to talk to my tree. I told him stories of my adventures in the forest, even though he witnessed most of them. I told him about my family and what we did as entertainers. I don't have the slightest idea why I decided to give speeches or tell tales to my tree, but as I continued to do this, I learned so much. I was being given as I was giving. My thoughts were sharp and quite astoundingly brilliant for me, but I didn't know that. I also felt Heavenly Father's love for me, burning/tingling in my entire being. I have no idea who I have told about my tree, but now you all know.
What is the point of this? Give to receive. I've found that the things brought to my mind are often the markers for the direction I need to move in.
Then here I go!
Cheerios, good chaps and laces.
Dallin "DJ Hugs" Hughes
Nighttime Ninnies.
Dearest reader,
I want to take you back to a couple very important times in my life. I want to take you past the memories of running through the forest to our little fortress made from a rock formation and logs we had hauled into place, past the silliest cat superhero role playing games you've ever heard of, past the lego starships, past the trails we made for mountain biking. Yeah, that's right. We're gonna swim in the 13ft side of the pool...without floaties. Are you ready to dive?
First, I want to tell you about one night I spent with my mother. When I was itty bitty, my mother had Thursday nights off. This was way back when my Padre and the rest of his litter were performing nights and none of the kids were involved in the night shows and when my mother worked in the dinner theatre. Well, every Thursday night, she took one kid out to spend time with just her, alone, away from the world and everyone else. This just happened to be my night. It was probably somewhere in September because I remember it was just starting to get cold and I needed my special green blanket with my name on it, but it wasn't my blanky 'cause I was to cool for that kinda bacon. So yes, we were outside. Back then, I had a very special interest in the stars. They amazed me like nothing else. I often saw things that I imagined no one else saw up there, slowly moving stars, ones that would blink off and on, ones that would lead me in the dark. My mom would hug me as we just lay there, in the grass, on my blanket, talking about anything and everything. I don't remember almost anything outside of me at all. What I remember was being hugged and talking to her as we fed my interests. That memory has influenced every little way I treat my siblings every day. I often think about whether or not I am promoting those feelings I felt that day when I had my night out with my mother. Now, I didn't only have one. I think we did this for about a year. I remember searching for ants on another one, but that's beside the point. This one stuck out because it was the purest memory I have alone, with my mom.
I'll finish this next memory in the still of tomorrow's night. Sleep wraps her tentacles around my mind as I type, pulling me deeper into the beautifully vibrant abyss below. Most abysses are so misunderstood.
Nighty.
I want to take you back to a couple very important times in my life. I want to take you past the memories of running through the forest to our little fortress made from a rock formation and logs we had hauled into place, past the silliest cat superhero role playing games you've ever heard of, past the lego starships, past the trails we made for mountain biking. Yeah, that's right. We're gonna swim in the 13ft side of the pool...without floaties. Are you ready to dive?
First, I want to tell you about one night I spent with my mother. When I was itty bitty, my mother had Thursday nights off. This was way back when my Padre and the rest of his litter were performing nights and none of the kids were involved in the night shows and when my mother worked in the dinner theatre. Well, every Thursday night, she took one kid out to spend time with just her, alone, away from the world and everyone else. This just happened to be my night. It was probably somewhere in September because I remember it was just starting to get cold and I needed my special green blanket with my name on it, but it wasn't my blanky 'cause I was to cool for that kinda bacon. So yes, we were outside. Back then, I had a very special interest in the stars. They amazed me like nothing else. I often saw things that I imagined no one else saw up there, slowly moving stars, ones that would blink off and on, ones that would lead me in the dark. My mom would hug me as we just lay there, in the grass, on my blanket, talking about anything and everything. I don't remember almost anything outside of me at all. What I remember was being hugged and talking to her as we fed my interests. That memory has influenced every little way I treat my siblings every day. I often think about whether or not I am promoting those feelings I felt that day when I had my night out with my mother. Now, I didn't only have one. I think we did this for about a year. I remember searching for ants on another one, but that's beside the point. This one stuck out because it was the purest memory I have alone, with my mom.
I'll finish this next memory in the still of tomorrow's night. Sleep wraps her tentacles around my mind as I type, pulling me deeper into the beautifully vibrant abyss below. Most abysses are so misunderstood.
Nighty.