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Mind Over Matter

When responsibilities, deadlines, and things around you are tough, life can appear difficult. It is at those times that you may start wishing you were elsewhere: on a beach, in the mountains, at the park, or in another life.

Does that mean in those situations you are letting the surrounding conditions control your emotions and reactions? Yes, probably so. Is that the best way to react? No, probably not. So what to do?

To not let them control you, make a conscious decision to be indifferent to them. Surrounding conditions are a lot of times only innate objects or imposed beliefs. And if they are innate objects, they may not even be real. They may simply be conditions that you perceive as real and attach emotions and reactions.

Sometimes, the best thing to do is employ the idea of mind over matter. That is part of the perspective where genius comes from. Mind over matter is part of what gives you super-abilities in times of need.

The more you dwell there and see your surrounding conditions from its vantage point, the more you will have it as your confidant. You will be able to harness and actively use its power to overcome in life, moment-by-moment.

Likewise, all thoughts, actions, and reactions are seeds that get released into the physical and metaphysical planes of the universe. There, they get planted and grow into fruition. So, nothing is just in and of itself. There are always more things connected to the action or thought than are evident.

The mental approach you take to overcome a particular situation can actually lay the groundwork for success and progress in future areas of your life. By taking the time to positively plan your approach to utilizing your ideas and brilliance to succeed, you are investing in your own future.

Over the years, life will take some interesting turns. Many aspects will mesh into an interesting tapestry that continuously grows. Keep yourself at the point where you look forward to how each new day will unfold. Visualizations will come true, and then more will take their place in the future. It’s always interesting to see how visualization will materialize and when.

You don’t have to figure out your whole life all at once. Enjoy life as it is, moment by moment. When you do, you’ll be amazed at how simple it is and how much more at ease living becomes.

“Mind over matter” works.

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adapted from my book An Agreement with Life

Hedgeboars (flash fiction)

Merkador’s army stood in battle formation, ready to charge. A few of the soldiers lined up in front felt the armor on their legs jiggle. They glanced down and noticed ripples forming repeatedly in the puddles of day-old rainwater next to their feet. Confused, they looked at each other, wondering what was happening. They tried to brush away the feeling of concern that was growing in each of them, but they couldn’t – in light of what happened next.

Soldiers who were the closest to the forest were the first to hear limbs snapping and to see leaves dispersed like fireworks.

“Hedgeboars!!” yelled one of the soldiers.

The first wave of wild beasts broke loose from the forest and into the open plain. Fear gripped the soldiers’ hearts, and terror filled their eyes. A few stood fast, though, and tried to calm the others around them.

“Steady, men! …Steady! Hold your positions!” came from those men who had strong hearts and loud voices. The words seemed to equalize against the timbers that broke in front of their eyes.

“Ready your weapons!” came from elsewhere in the ranks.

Men up and down the line shifted their bodies and weapons into an attack-and-kill position. The entire army seemed to flex and pivot in cadence under the verbal orders, in light of the impending assault.

Hedgeboars could cause overt devastation within the blink of an eye. They were mean, extremely hungry, and horribly ugly. They weren’t the fastest animals in the forest, but they weren’t terribly slow, either. They seemed to operate on the method of mass momentum. Once they got started, it was hard to slow their moving force. And that’s exactly what their “owners” were counting on: spook them in the woods, drive them out into the open, and watch them run right over everything (and everyone) in their way. Blind fear and seemingly directionless energy pushed them forward to the hedges that lie in the distance.

Hedgeboars, by themselves, were stupid – hence, their force was directionless and awkward. But by putting them together in one big group, their massive force was one to be reckoned with and feared. Even a dumb animal was one to be afraid of, if it was heading right at you – ready to trample – and these were.

Merkador’s chief architect of war was aware the enemy had considered enlisting the hedgeboars’ help through conscription, but he didn’t believe they were actually capable of directing the beasts in a useful fashion. Apparently, he was very wrong. In fact, the exploding treetops were proof that the army from the badlands had indeed figured out a way to herd the hedgeboars together and direct their force as one.

By now, the edge of the forest looked as if giant drops of green rain were falling to the ground. Large chunks of brown limbs and bark also flew through the air for a few seconds, then finally found a resting place on the ground, in other trees, or on top of some of the soldiers. That, coupled with the sound of snapping limbs, caused the right amount of fear in the onlookers to discourage them from wanting to hold their position and line. It was a strategy so well-played by the other side that the Chief Architect wished he had thought of, first.

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This story was adapted from one of Reep’s upcoming books.  For ones currently published, go to www.Amazon.com/author/reep

 

Lightning Storms in the Field

Every other weekend during the school year, it was our turn to milk. My brother and I would help Daddy milk Saturday evening, Sunday morning, and Sunday evening. We also fed the cows Saturday and Sunday, midday. Sometimes when people were out sick or on vacation, we helped during the week – but mostly every other weekend.

During the summer, though, it was a different story. Any morning or evening was fair game, depending on what was going on. If hay needed to be baled, then somebody milked while somebody else baled. If it was a silage-cutting time, one guy cut silage, one drove wagons back and forth to the field, and another packed the silo with a front end loader. Two others milked.

Of course, the wild card in all of that was the weather. If it was sunny and warm out, life was good. But if it was stormy or overly hot, that was a different story. Likewise, rainstorms were something amazing to watch. It was always interesting to see just how close the clouds would get before they unleashed their water from above.

Sure, most people look at rain clouds and think, “Oh look…how pretty.” But if you’ve ever been caught out in a storm, then you probably don’t automatically think that anymore. I can’t tell you how many storms I’ve gotten caught out in. A lot of times, they would come up so suddenly that I didn’t notice they were blocking the sunshine until they were already upon me. By then, it was too late. The big fear always seemed to be about getting struck by lightning.

We could be out in the field on any given day, and Daddy would come check on us periodically. He was usually easy-going and laid back – driving slow and rarely a worried look on his face. But baby, let the sky crack loose a couple of wicked, shimmering bolts of electricity and everything changed!

That blue pickup would come flying across the fields to snatch us off the tractor quicker than a rabbit running away from a combine in second gear. Depending on which field we were in, we’d wind up going to Mamaw’s house or to our house for the duration of the heavenly electric show.

I actually liked it when that happened, because going to Mamaw’s house meant getting to eat some of her pound cake and drinking cool well water from the kitchen sink. On the other hand, going home to wait out the weather meant peanut butter and crackers and sweet tea. So, either was a win.

Either way, though, it meant that the tractor seat was going to be wet when I got back to the field. Some things just couldn’t be avoided. Sure, in a perfect world, I would have known the storm was coming and was going to have lightning in it that time – meaning we would be leaving the field for a while. But also in a perfect world, the silage would have cut itself, and we wouldn’t have had to be out there in the first place. But, that’s not how it happened. We had to cut the silage to feed to the cows – just like we had to drive the tractors that got the job done.

I’m grateful that I had the chance to get wet, driving the John Deere in the rain. In a lot of ways, it made us better kids then and better adults now. None of us take dry clothes and hospitality for granted. We’re grateful for them all the time.

Once in a while, I’m guilty of complaining about something as simple as getting my sock feet wet in the kitchen if there’s something wet on the floor. But then I’ll stop, shake my head, remember the storms in the field, and smile because I’m not soaked from head to toe. It really is amazing how things in life shape who we are and how we react to them.

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This article was adapted from one of Reep’s upcoming books. To read ones currently published, go to Amazon.com/author/reep

Morning Dew (poetry)

A field laced with morning dew
Greeted my walk today
I wanted to linger – make it hold
But I could not stay

As I stood there, leaning in
I tried my best to hear
Hoping it would have the words
To always keep me near

It seemed to say in other ways
The callings of my heart
Yet I knew with grown up mind
The truths were miles apart

It said it would go its way
It would have to pass
And though it’s gone from daily frame
In my mind, it lasts.

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My books are available here:
www.amazon.com/author/reep

White Fire (poetry)

White fire lit up the ground
And burned in my mind’s eye.
I could see the burning land
But knew it was not I

Who had a way to put it out
Or even make it start
I was simply standing there
While it let me take part.

It coursed across the ground with speed
Flames were dancing near
Yet none ‘the grass expressed concern
That it would disappear

All the while, I reveled in
The burning of the land
Yet coursed itself below the fire
Allowing none to stand.

As the sun in East did rise
White fire left my sight
And in that moment then I knew
It was the morning light.

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My books are available here:
www.amazon.com/author/reep

Collecting Eggs with a Shotgun

“Boom!” went Ol’ Betsy, as I pulled both triggers of the double-barrel 12 gauge shotgun. The rats I was aiming at disappeared into thin air.

“Holy crap! Did you see that?” I asked my sister. “What?!” she yelled back at me. Both of us were a little deaf from the sound of the gun. “Where’d they go?” she asked. “I don’t know, but I don’t think they got away.”

Two rats had been in the corner trying to add to our consternation by increasing their population. We had entered the chicken house at that moment just to gather the eggs, but, well…timing is everything, I guess.

Meanwhile, all the chickens had fled to the other side of the building. They stared at us for a moment and then went back to pecking, cooing, and cackling. The amount of manure had increased slightly in that area for some reason, though.

We stood there for a few moments looking at the gaping hole in the back corner near the floorboards. Finally, I said, “I guess I should go find a piece of wood to nail over that.” “Yeah, probably,” was my sister’s reply. The corner where I had aimed and fired now had a jagged, new opening instead of a rough, closed look to it. We laughed, and then I added, “At least it worked.”

For weeks before that, the rat problem had been getting worse. The last straw came after I had shaken down the feeder and two rats jumped out instead of beautiful, golden chicken feed. That was when I had had enough.

It was one thing for the rats to live under the chicken house and mind their own business. That was fine. But when they started eating up the food that was for our livestock and taking baths in the buckets of water… oh, no… and then to scare us every day on top of that… yep, that was the last straw.

Yes, we had set poison for the rats, but instead of it killing them off, they just seemed to eat it like candy and stand around waiting for us to bring them another bag full.

When I realized that neither the poison nor the traps were working, I did what any 14-year old kid would do out in the country on a farm – I got creative. I started taking different kinds of sticks with me to the chicken house, but they proved to be either too short to reach or too long to swing.

So, I moved on to a bullwhip. That worked sort of okay, but it mostly just made the rats mad instead of taking them out of the picture. Next, my souped-up slingshot worked pretty good, as long as got ‘em square in the head, otherwise the rocks deflected and wound up hitting the chickens instead.

What to do…What to do? After thinking about my options for a while, it finally hit me. I went to the closet and pulled out a shotgun. It was a .410 single bolt action. My aim was good, but the pellets just seemed to bounce off the rats’ hide as they ran and ducked into their holes. And I wasn’t fast enough to unload the empty shell, reload, and get off another shot before they had scattered and run for cover.

That week, I happened to be down at my aunt’s house visiting and told her what was going on. A twinkle appeared in her eyes and an innocent, yet devious, grin spread across her face.

She said, “You could always borrow the 12-gauge if you like. Of course, it’s a bit more powerful than the .410, but if you use it right, it should do the trick.” “Can I?” “Sure. Just be careful.”

She handed it to me, along with a few shells. The smell of oil, use, old leather, and previous hunting trips poured off of the gleaming cylinders of steel and filled my nose. As I carried it home that evening, I decided that “Ol’ Betsy” seemed like a fitting name.

My approach to finding a solution to the rat problem seemed a bit eccentric – according to some other people I told at the time – but they weren’t the ones getting their feet overrun by hungry rats. And, it worked.

We weren’t afraid to go collect eggs anymore, after that. Every afternoon we exited the chicken house victorious with a shotgun in one hand and a basketful of eggs in the other.

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This story was adapted from one of my upcoming books.  To read ones currently published, go to www.Amazon.com/author/reep .

 

Dottedly Connected (poetry)

Dottedly connected,
The small, black circles
Surround the coffee cup
And give contour to it
Beyond just its basic structure.
They wrap around
Form the connection
Between here and out there.
They permeate the unknown
And come back to show me
That there is purpose in this life.

A repeating pattern
Of an interlinking chain,
They work together
To make the forces
And the purposes
And the beauty
All work together.

Painted on and kilned,
They’ve become part of what the cup is –
Not only a holder of all things wonderful
But a thing of beauty, as well.
To become the thing it was meant to,
And to just… be.

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This poem was excerpted from one of Marty’s upcoming books. For currently published books, go to www.Amazon.com/author/reep

The Girl on the Train (flash fiction)

To wait for the girl on the train. In my mind, I’ll do what the note says. I have a small notebook in my jacket pocket, and one of the pages in it says the same thing that my calendar does on the wall in the hallway.

We have the calendar on the wall so that we’ll remember to look at what day it is. It’s also to remember special days and special people. Where’s my special girl? Hmm. Oh, right. She’s coming to meet me at the station. I’ll go soon to the station to meet her there, too – to pick her up and bring her home. She’s been gone for a very long time, and I miss her. All will be better soon, though, because she’s arriving today.

I’m here, now, waiting just as I said I would. Where is it? Where’s the train? My watch tells me I’m right on time, but maybe I’m a little early. Watches do that, you know. They jump ahead magically at night when you’re not looking, or when you’re driving down the highway paying attention to road signs and whatnot instead of paying attention to them. A jealous watch? Can watches be jealous? I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s possible. That would be weird.

What’s that? A horn? A faint sound that sounds like it’s a’way’off in the distance coming down the mountains between the peaks, getting ready to get here where I am and where these other people are standing around waiting. I hope none of them are wondering about my jealous watch. But if they are, oh well. It happens.

It’s coming closer. Coming around the curve, still just a bit away – but much closer than before. The train slows as it approaches the platform, and I wave – at no one in particular and at everyone in general. But I’m really waving to my girl who is somewhere behind the glass of one of those big windows.

It slows to a snail-paced roll and then stops in the middle of the station. The front end of the engine is lined up without any issue down at the edge of the unloading area. People begin to get off the train and make their way down the steps.

As each person steps onto the long, gray concrete strip we call the platform, my eyes scan each face and head of hair for my gal. Not yet. Not yet. Nope. She’s not there. Where is she? Did I come at the right time? Did I come to the right station? Did I make my way here on the right day? Or, did she miss the connection? Did she get on the right train? I don’t know, but I want an answer to all of these questions.

Wait. There. In the middle. There’s a head of hair that’s a little grayer than I remember. Below it? Eyes…eyes that still glow like the sun in the day and the moon in the night. The nose…yep, same nose I remember. And the smile? Yes, definitely the same smile that was there years ago, last year, last month, and today.

Am I being forgetful, somehow? No, it’s just time. It creeps up on all of us and then stands upright, right next to each of us like it was there all along. Ah, it was there all along. And so was my gal, who has come on the train. Home. Isn’t the sunlight glorious?

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This story was adapted from one of Marty’s upcoming books. For currently published, go to www.Amazon.com/author/reep

 

Positively Impacting Community

Hopefully, part of your agreement with life involves improving parts of your community that need help. One of the best ways to positively impact your community is by showing people (of all ages) how to get involved in it.

By helping them understand how a particular community works, who the key players are, and what the current processes are, they’ll be able to see which parts are effective and which parts aren’t. Understanding those things will help them to see how they can help continue moving the good parts forward and fix the bad ones.

Lead by example, and encourage others to get out into the highways and byways of the community and become an excited part of it. Whether it’s through traditional ways or through creative ways, positively impacting your community is always a good thing.

“Fresh eyes” will see things differently than eyes that have looked at the same situation for a long time. Infusing your community with “new blood” will also invigorate other people to stay involved and improve at multiple levels. It’s true that the people who are involved in the community in one way or another are people who really care. If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t be involved.

A way to help others care is to help them see a need. At first, you may have to point out some needs to them (but probably not, since many needs are obvious). In time, they’ll see other needs on their own.

Once they see a need and have a desire to do something about it, help them design a plan of action. Action of some sort is necessary to convert their good intentions into positive changes. Their plan of action needs to include both short-range and long-range goals. Then, help them get to work.

Rolling up your sleeves alongside them will help them see that your own desire to positively impact the community is as real as theirs is. Together, your combined efforts will be amazing!

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[…adapted from Marty’s book An Agreement with Life]

And check out www.amazon.com/author/reep for more of my books.
Enjoy! – Marty

Worlds of Work and Letting Go

A lot of people go into their little worlds of work and don’t come out again for 40 years. They think what they do is so important that they rarely stop to look at what they’re doing: to see if it really matters or fits well into the rest of the world somehow.

In some cases, their families grow up around them without them noticing until it’s too late: children seemingly change from toddlers to teenagers overnight, and spouses get tired of waiting for time together.

Don’t let yourself become that person who never leaves the office. Your family is more important. They really are – and there IS a way to live a balanced life. Meaning, you CAN provide for your family AND be with them in person 3-dimensionally to laugh, love, cry, hold, and smile.

Your family would rather have you than a picture of you.

Likewise, someone once told me, “Letting go is a good thing. It really creates freedom, and it lets trust grow.” Freedom and trust? Maybe trust is hard for you at times, because people have squashed it. You may have even said, “Forget it.”

If so, talking about it and writing it out can help. It creates a sense of permanence because it’s written down somewhere. It’s refreshing to get the old stuff out.

In time, you’ll be able to trust more, and things will “click”. They will be easier to deal with.

When you feel overwhelmed by people and things, let go, if it helps you feel better. Remember, life’s bark is bigger than its bite, most of the time.

Pray each day for the things that make you excited about life – the ones that make you feel tingly all over, good points in life, and feelings that you cherish. If you focus on them, then as you deal with people and situations, those positives will be there to guide you.

As wise men and women have said throughout the years, “Breathe out doubt; breathe in trust.”

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[…adapted from Marty’s book An Agreement with Life]

And check out www.amazon.com/author/reep for more of my books.
Enjoy! – Marty