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The Monday Morning Memo

God’s Dog

I sit with a bag of popcorn and watch the frantic climbers of the ladder of success. The climbers who capture my interest are the ones who consider themselves to be “clever.” But look closely and you’ll see their only “cleverness” is that they are uncommitted and disloyal. Every person is a steppingstone for them and every relationship is transactional.

I ask them about this and they say with pride, “I am an independent thinker. I am my own dog.”

But isn’t that just another way of saying, “stray dog, dog without a home, dog that nobody wants”?

Clever climbers have no master. This means no commitment, no loyalty to anyone or anything other than themselves. But happy dogs have masters to whom they are loyal and committed.

Climbers envision a life of recreation and leisure.
But recreation and leisure are medicine, not a lifestyle.
Medicine, used wisely, restores us to health.
Medicine as a lifestyle is the definition of a drug addict.

When you live for something bigger than you are, you gain identity, purpose, and adventure.

Identity: Who am I?
Purpose: Why am I here?
Adventure: What must I overcome?

We spend our lives searching for security and then hate it when we get it. Security is the death of adventure.

Self-made men speak of being their happiest during days of struggle and uncertainty. This is when they knew exactly who they were, why they were here, and what it was they had to overcome. Hence the saying, “It is the journey, not the destination, that matters in the end.”

This is the self-perception that I will be sending to indy@wizardofads.com.
I hope you will use this same format when you send him your self-perception.

Identity: I am a mailman.
Purpose: I deliver messages.
Adventure: I must overcome ignorance, insulation, and apathy.

Ignorance: I must cause those who don’t know, to know.
Insulation: I must penetrate the insulation that surrounds their brains.
Apathy: I must touch their hearts so that they care.

STEP ONE is to summarize in three, short phrases, your identity, your purpose, and your adventure.

STEP TWO is to explain how you will overcome the obstacles that are the essence of your adventure.

Full Disclosure: the reason I’m asking you to send your self-perception to Indy is because you will give deeper thought to your introspection if you know that another person – even a lowly beagle – is going to read it. This exercise is not for my benefit and it’s not for Indy’s rabbit hole. It’s for you.

If you deliver good news
and solutions for problems
and try to alleviate suffering
and make people happy,
you are doing the work of God.

You are no longer your own dog.

You are God’s dog.

Aroo,
Roy H. Williams

“I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.” – Albert Schweitzer

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Random Quote:

“Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains.
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways.
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests.
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans.
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?

I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it.
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it.
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’.
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’.
I saw a white ladder all covered with water.
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken.
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?

I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’.
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world.
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’.
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’.
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’.
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter.
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?

I met a young child beside a dead pony.
I met a white man who walked a black dog.
I met a young woman whose body was burning.
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow.
I met one man who was wounded in love.
I met another man who was wounded with hatred.

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?

I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’.
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest.
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty.
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters.
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison.
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden.
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten.
Where black is the color, where none is the number.
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it.
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’.

And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall”

- A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall, written by Bob Dylan, Copyright © 1963 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music

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