Giker's Super Slide Puzzle

 I know you are smart because you got this tiny puzzle game for Christmas- the smallest present out of all of them- and I couldn't solve it, but you could. I studied it for 10 minutes with your little brother and we were totally inept at it. Until you came to rescue, moving the pieces around like you could already see the solution before starting. It took you less than 30 seconds.

 We then tried it again and still couldn't get it right even after watching you. I asked you to show us how to solve it again and you did so with ease. You have a gift, my son. I hope you will use it well as you grow older, better than I have tried to use mine.

 It's a rectangular puzzle game that maps where you should place your pieces beforehand. You then need to move the pieces into a position that allows the big red square to settle at the bottom center. It is Giker's super slide puzzle game, pictured below.

Sundays

  I love the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. People sleep in, the graceful go to church. The air swells with the absence of traffic, as natural as it was before the revolt of industry. You can hear the birds and trees swaying in the wind more clearly. When you run, clouds can watch you without the film of light pollution. When you read, the words speak to you more carefully. You aren't thinking so fast that the day falls into a forgetful cavity. You savor the moments, the quiet solitude that enhances reflection, the fun and meaningful events you attended with family. God's goodness shines on the slow things you do, methodically and lovingly, in full realization of the gifts he gave you. The non-physical is given as much attention as the physical. It is the great reset that prepares you for the next week, a revolution of the clock restructuring the order lost from the chaos of six other days. It is a day of prayer, wonder, communion, all the intangibles we need to function without admitting it. Sunday is the forsaken goddess that soothes us in our stressful slumber. Refreshing fruits of religious harmony reconcile you to the other faiths that preach solace on this special day. It is a holiday about nothing, ignored by the calendars, secretly yearned for by the busy and the pious. Civilization pauses for a splendid seventh of its monopoly on time. The painters and the poets spend their deepest moments meditating on eternal truths unveiled. Weddings produce the most sustainable moment of joy the good Earth will witness. Angels sing to us sopranos of blessedness and love. All is in rhythm, all is bright, all is safe, all is well. I love the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday.

Gratitude

 Be wary of the talons of gratitude. People can go their whole lives being grateful for what someone did, not realizing they are enabling bad behavior. A person can save your life or bail you out and expect you to repay them by allowing them to treat you badly. When parents do this, it is especially deceptive. Once you call them out, they will be quick to point out all the positive things they've done for you, making it seem like the bad things are excusable, as a sort of guilt trip. They will use the guilt to make you a pawn in their scheme.

 True gratitude is feeling appreciative of the people that gave you something without expecting anything in return. Their expectations don't trigger an imbalanced power struggle. When you don't feel the stress of constantly needing to please them, it is much easier to feel gratitude in all its purity.

Google Business Reviews

 I have written a slew of reviews on Google, most of them positive. This came after a horrendous experience at Planet Fitness, where my locker was broken into. I try to write some positive reviews for every negative one. It felt like a good time for some business reviews since we have really settled into the area and are well-acquainted with our favorite locales.

Here is a link to the Planet Fitness review. You can find the others by clicking my name. You can also expand out the map to see where these locations are.

Memory Is Attachment: How to Navigate Dreamwork Without Going Crazy

  Memory is an often-overlooked form of attachment. Many people would like to remember everything they can, as sentimental pieces of their soul. But Sri Nisargadatta Maharaja taught that attachment to memory tethers the soul to the past, making it harder to live in the present, resulting in greater suffering. The seminal work I Am That relates all his teachings in Socratic-interview form, and is one of the highest-rated books on Goodreads that I've read this year.

 I explored my memory frequently this year, mainly from being reminded of things in my dreams and trying to psychoanalyze them. For me it was dreams about people who hurt me that I no longer wanted to have. I got carried away when I did some dreamwork with my spirit guide to help resolve them- a wild journey that I am hesitant to share with the public. It wasn't the spiritual resolutions that stopped the dreams, but realizing that exploring my memory was making me overly attached to the past. I haven't had a recurring dream since making more of an effort to let go of the memories, which have also helped with the pain and suffering they've caused. The spiritual resolutions actually helped with forgiveness more than dreamwork, at least serving to make them less vivid.

 What also helped was willing myself not to check the social media pages of people who hurt me. These indicators of the present can trigger memories, inviting them into our dreams and distorting reality. In our dreams, we might replay past events as if they were scenes from the present on their social media pages. It follows that along with memory, we must detach from these social media checkups, no matter how interested we are. We don't know them anymore, and the pain of checking can sharpen the memory of the trauma they caused, reinforcing the dreams. Sometimes I would check their page just because of a dream I had, so it works both ways. Our minds want more information to fuel the dreams, but we must not provide it; we must stop supplying the subconscious with new details of the present.

 This is not to say that memory isn't important. We need memories to help us function in daily life, and our dreams can help us sort through past problems so that we may learn how handle situations in the future better. But if we go too deep by trying to solve them through memory alone, it can backfire. In dreamwork, you must find a balance by practicing detachment from your memories. Focus on the emotion and not the contents of your choices. If there are regrets, forgive yourself and move on. Vow not to make the same mistake twice and your mind will reward you with more pleasant dreams.

The Drums and the Guitar

 The brave drums marched through the jungle, beating to the pulse of its wet, humid air. Leaves on the trees shook as they paraded past, moving with a cadence that to the trained eye might have perceived them dancing. Each beat intensified as the evening drew on, growing louder as they approached the river. Like a troop of monkeys, they had transformed the quiet canopy into a frenzy of percussion.

 Once they came to the river, a sound as sweet as honey stopped them in their tracks. On the other side, a voluptuous guitar was stringing herself along the shore, meandering with her notes to the flow of the water. She dazzled the spectators with her otherworldly sound, so much that the batonists fell into a swoon of silence. 

 As she approached, the air became electric with her hypnotic solo. She stopped to look at the water, emanating a melancholy disposition. Tears of sadness fell from her frets, supplying the river with a lonely dirge that collected in a stream. The drums could see that she was alone, that she yearned for a companion in the compositions she kept.

 It was the smallest drum who cast the first beat. The guitar's interest piqued at the sound of a complementary performer. Soon the larger drums followed his lead, so that the chords of the guitar blended into the beats, becoming something bigger. The drums no longer wanted to march in formation as a single entity, but to become synchronized with the lovely treasure they'd found across the river.

 As they gathered around her, their sounds rolled into an assembly of powerful forces that liberated her from the shell she'd been in. At once she played high, fast notes that speckled the firmament with a galvanized crescendo, bolstered by the heavy pounding below. The leaves on the trees whipped back and forth, swaying in newfound fusion, while the water rushed with a progression of strength.

 The guitar was eminently pleased with her new band of brothers, who'd fallen in love with her. Their marching beats carried her through the rest of the jungle, curing her sadness, giving her purpose. In turn, she led them to charge a bridge over the river, taming their wildness, connecting division through unity. Once she had them, the world became clean.