The Art of Silent Action

This little parable was taken from the writings of Jaggi Vasudeva.

There was a man who cleared one hundred acres of forest and made it into farmland. His two sons helped him and they became prosperous. When the man was dying, he called his two sons and told them that the land should never be divided, but the produce should be taken equally, fifty percent, by each son.

Accordingly, they went by their father’s word. One of the brothers got married and had five children. The other one never got married. Life went on and they each took fifty percent.

One day, a thought entered the mind of the brother who had a wife and five children: "I'm getting fifty percent; my brother is also getting fifty percent. But I have a wife and five children while my brother has nobody. When he gets old, who will take care of him? He should have a little more than me because I have the wealth of my children. But he is too proud; he will not take it from me."

So in the dark of the night, he carried a bagful of grain quietly and walked into his brother’s store, dropped this bag and walked back. Whenever he could, he went on doing this.

The same thought also entered his brother's mind. He thought, "I am alone, my brother has five children to feed and I am getting fifty percent, but if I give him extra, he will not take it." So he started doing the same thing at night.

This went on for many years and both of them never noticed. One night, both of the brothers carrying sacks of grains in secrecy walked towards each other's storehouse and came face to face. Suddenly, they realized what was happening.

What a nice reminder that the whole process of life can be about giving. It can be a transaction we choose to carry with us.

Marshmallow Shooters with 5 bags of ammo

You can chart the stars by the types of Christmases we've had. Not really, but they do have their own personalities. Their own folklore. And we talk about them every Christmas, to keep their memories alive.

There's the food disaster Christmases, like the 2000 Tales from the Crypt smoked turkey which we opened to emaciated skin and bones. I tried chicken broth to rehydrate the poor thing but it was too late. My brother called around and found a turkey dinner somewhere that hadn't been picked up, and saved the day. Then there was the great 1976 Turkey Roll mishap where he burned the stuffing and it carried the charcoal flavor through the turkey roll.  I think we ordered a pizza that year.

   And the creative and artistic years, giving well-meaning things both useless and hideous.

          I loved the Singalong Messiah Christmases. And each year retelling the manger story after church, and selecting one of the boys for the great honor of putting Baby Jesus in the manger.

            Who can forget the activity themed years of scubadiving lessons and skydiving, kayak, hockey and ski equipment.

               And the sucky ones with hastily store bought item just to have something under the tree. 

                  There's the baking years when no one was on a diet and Weight Watcher holidays  when everyone was.
                
                      The Christmas after my dad passed when we had to go away, and we spent it in a log cabin in Tahoe, in the snow, with a real tree covered in handmade lace snowflake and red apple ornaments.

                           It's hard to beat the sweet Christmas eves, nibbling on cookies and leaving sooty footprints all over the hearth as we set out the gifts. And especially the ones when the older brothers discovered what was what, and each in turn became part of the Stay Up Late Club to scurry around in hushed voices and head off to bed just before we finished up.

There are a lot who accuse Christmas of becoming an obligatory and commercial holiday of forced generosity. And I agree. A lot forego adult gifts altogether and instead choose to give more spontaneous gifts during the year to create what they think is a more authentic reflection of their affection. Some families pick names to keep the costs down. Some give nothing at all, and instead spend it on lavish meals and get togethers.

I've tried it all. But for us, this year was every bit authentic and magical. For the first time our family had no visible seam from blending three families together. Don's wife and my husband and my sons together without any awkwardness.  It was truly a joy watching the faces as each opened really thoughtful gifts. That's my indellible memory of Christmas 2011.

But I'm sure what everyone else will remember are the Marshmallow shooters with ammo bags of mini marshmallows that threatened to take out the kitchen. It was pandemonium!!! Thank God we got that under control before the boys had a chance to reload!!

A Star-Studded Event

Packages with fancy new bows were torn and tossed; in cozy flannels we celebrated together; and found an icy Christmas surprise in the hot tub.  Christmas 2011, Woodland CA

Sam's first Christmas

Don and Jami

Favorite gift: Grandpa Chuck's books

Star Wars Light Sabers (to go along
with the Marshmallow Shooters)

#2 son (Doovey)

A quick double check before taking
that treat ...

#1 Son (Mook)

A heavenly star appears in the ice

#3 son (The Bean)

Counting our blessings

In Hoc Anno Domini

When Saul of Tarsus set out on his journey to Damascus the whole of the known world lay in bondage. There was one state, and it was Rome. There was one master for it all, and he was Tiberius Caesar.

When Saul of Tarsus set out on his journey to Damascus the whole of the known world lay in bondage. There was one state, and it was Rome. There was one master for it all, and he was Tiberius Caesar.

Everywhere there was civil order, for the arm of the Roman law was long. Everywhere there was stability, in government and in society, for the centurions saw that it was so.

But everywhere there was something else, too. There was oppression—for those who were not the friends of Tiberius Caesar. There was the tax gatherer to take the grain from the fields and the flax from the spindle to feed the legions or to fill the hungry treasury from which divine Caesar gave largess to the people. There was the impressor to find recruits for the circuses. There were executioners to quiet those whom the Emperor proscribed. What was a man for but to serve Caesar?

There was the persecution of men who dared think differently, who heard strange voices or read strange manuscripts. There was enslavement of men whose tribes came not from Rome, disdain for those who did not have the familiar visage. And most of all, there was everywhere a contempt for human life. What, to the strong, was one man more or less in a crowded world?

Then, of a sudden, there was a light in the world, and a man from Galilee saying, Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's and unto God the things that are God's.

And the voice from Galilee, which would defy Caesar, offered a new Kingdom in which each man could walk upright and bow to none but his God. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. And he sent this gospel of the Kingdom of Man into the uttermost ends of the earth.

So the light came into the world and the men who lived in darkness were afraid, and they tried to lower a curtain so that man would still believe salvation lay with the leaders.

But it came to pass for a while in divers places that the truth did set man free, although the men of darkness were offended and they tried to put out the light. The voice said, Haste ye. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness come upon you, for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth.

Along the road to Damascus the light shone brightly. But afterward Paul of Tarsus, too, was sore afraid. He feared that other Caesars, other prophets, might one day persuade men that man was nothing save a servant unto them, that men might yield up their birthright from God for pottage and walk no more in freedom.

Then might it come to pass that darkness would settle again over the lands and there would be a burning of books and men would think only of what they should eat and what they should wear, and would give heed only to new Caesars and to false prophets. Then might it come to pass that men would not look upward to see even a winter's star in the East, and once more, there would be no light at all in the darkness.

And so Paul, the apostle of the Son of Man, spoke to his brethren, the Galatians, the words he would have us remember afterward in each of the years of his Lord:

Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.

This editorial was written in 1949 by the late Vermont Royster and has been published annually since.

Christmas 2011

Merry Christmas to all ~

Happy Holidays

New tradition forming!  I sit with my husband in a room lit only by tree lights and remember that our blessings outnumber the lights. 

The Veil

On the drive in to work yesterday, I was in a sour mood. News floating out from the radio wasn't good; no cheerful melodies to distract me otherwise; and it is the week before the week that is the busiest week of the year. All this general unrest seemed to be seeping through the doors of the car and right into my soul. 

Again, the media is our enemy. It takes a simple act of defiance and runs images for hours, days, weeks, and months, giving it catastrophe status and jamming it down our throats. I am officially irritated by the deluge of uprisings: better toilet paper quality for prisoners incarcerated for being a menace to society; free luxury retirements for Parisians; free college; hand over the jobs, Mister, and no one will get hurt. My head wants to explode with the universal mantra of it's not fair.

Well, who said it would be, is what I want to know? Who promised life to be anything more than hand crafted with the materials on hand, and by the sweat of our brow, built like a house day by day, a foundation first to hold up the walls that eventually holds up the roof.

I remember being young and idealistic: I do. It was gentler then than now, more hippy-philosophical in the way to imagine what you can be or how it will go. And gently, eventually, the fine tune button revealed that it isn't quite that way. As maturity and life took hold, life unveiled itself as not quite as easy as it looked.

So many young people are in the streets in outrage. And I wonder sometimes if the spark of global unrest is coming from their first real face to face with the inequities in the system: what race does to opportunities in a lot of places, and what a lack of education does in even more; and the truth that the wealthy live parallel but separate lives. What I hear in the air, on the radio and tv, all over the net, is the anguish from too much of the veil being drawn away too quickly.

Or, like Wordsworth here, maybe it is the self-admonishment for allowing ourselves to get so far afield with capitalism and greed that we are partners in charting our own ruin.

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US
          The world is too much with us; late and soon,
          Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
          Little we see in Nature that is ours;
          We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
          The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
          The winds that will be howling at all hours,
          And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
          For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
          It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
          A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;                        
          So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
          Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
          Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
          Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
                                                          William Wordsworth,  1806.

The Great Ornament Caper of 2011

Our new puppy has been REALLY good about the tree. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as easy if the tree was real, but she hasn't touched it at all.

We have a modest but lovely tree and underneath is a treeskirt with the wooden train Mike got on his first Christmas rimming it. Sam has somehow learned that is her barrier, well at least we thought so.

On Monday morning, I was knocking around the house and Sam brought a bone over to the tree and drop it on the other side of the train right on the naughty side of the treeskirt. I got up, corrected her and gave it back.

A few minutes later, I caught her doing it again, only this time she picked up her bone really fast before I could get over there. And she gave me a look.   

One might imagine that the Motherpet would start wondering what was going on but, alas, no; instead, I got busy distracted in the kitchen doing the dishes. 

I returned to find her with a fabric ornament wedged between her paws having already chewed off the decorations and working on the leg. Worse yet, she had scoped out and gotten to the Beefeater ornament from England that was midway up the tree. I am not even going there at the thought it may have involved a bit of a jump to retrieve.

I think our man is salvagable with some bandaging and a solemn vow to say his injuries were sustained while defending the Tower.

(I guess that answers the question about whether Sam is a vegetarian.)

Strategic Defaults

Ethics of Real Estate Strategic Default

by Richard Warren on May 3, 2010

The new buzzword in real estate is Strategic Default. It’s a phrase that would make political spin doctors proud and has a much nicer sound than many other words for walking away from an obligation. It sounds so very professional. It’s like the corporations that proudly proclaim that they “chose bankruptcy in order to make the company stronger.” Somehow I don’t think that the business plans of those companies had bankruptcy listed in the strategy section.

What at one time considered unthinkable has become perfectly acceptable to many. To be sure, a business has to do what it must in order to remain profitable. But is it ethical? Do ethics matter anymore? Given a choice between going out of business and letting one or more properties lapse into foreclosure, the prudent choice is foreclosure.

There has recently been a heated discussion on this topic in the Forums here. But what about the investor who uses “strategic default” as a business strategy when there is no real need?

Two Examples

In the first case we have an investor who owns several dozen rental properties. Most of them were purchased using loans requiring 20% down payments and had fixed rates. This was not some wanna-be tycoon trying to game the system, it was a long-time, well-seasoned investor. Despite his conservative approach many of his properties are significantly underwater. He continued making payments even though there was little hope of any near-term recovery. Watching all the novice investors walking away made him wonder why he bothered.

With a revised his strategy, he has decided to let his negative equity properties lapse into foreclosure. He tried getting lenders to consider short-sales but they either balked because they were investor loans or refused to waive their right to seek a deficiency judgment. He fully understands that the lenders may still seek deficiency judgments after foreclosure but he is betting that sheer volume of cases will prevent them from doing so. In his mind he has the option of bankruptcy in his back pocket.

To him it is just a financial decision. The kicker is that he has the financial means to keep paying on the notes but he isn’t concerned about ethics simply because no one else seems to be.

Case #2

The second example is of your typical owner-occupant. It actually stems from a conversation I was involved in a few days ago. A young woman was sharing her battle with a bank in trying to get them to modify her loan. Her attitude is a prime example of how many people feel about the situation today. She and her husband purchased a home during the boom years with a low down payment but fixed-rate loan.

When their home’s value skyrocketed they decided to pull out equity to pay for a pool and fancy landscaping. So they refinanced into an adjustable rate mortgage that had an initial payment that was lower than their initial loan despite having taken a significant amount of cash out.

When the loan reset to a much higher payment it was impossible to refinance because values had dropped significantly. She started her efforts to modify the loan and reduce the principal balance, but the bank refused because she couldn’t demonstrate any hardship and the reality was that she could repay – she just couldn’t understand why she had to. Her position was that she shouldn’t have to pay because the value had dropped, never mind the fact that she had signed a document agreeing to do so. When asked why the bank should be on the hook for the drop in value she stated that they should have known somehow.

The conversation became heated at one point when she was asked if a bank should be liable for the difference when an automobile drops in value. She said no because everyone knows that cars lose value but houses never do. We now had gotten to the crux of the problem – she, like many others, had the mistaken belief that houses only increase in value.

The Faceless Enemy

We seem to have a prevailing attitude that banks are somehow a greedy beast that deserves to pay for everyone else’s mistakes. Without a doubt the banking industry was a huge part of the problem. However, they don’t exist in a vacuum. We all share in the losses suffered by the banks. Whether it’s the retiree depending on dividends or pensions, mutual funds, and individuals who own bank stocks, we all share the pain. The ripples spread throughout the economy.

So the next time you hear someone talking enthusiastically about strategic default, keep in mind that, either directly or indirectly, you are bearing a portion of that cost.

Ethics is knowing the difference between what you have a right to do and what is right to do. – Potter Stewart – U.S. Supreme Court Justice

Since June

Our Tree

I dearly love this time season. At work we are offering to gift wrap packages for anyone in the office for their families, and our holiday party is Friday. I sit writing this with the sounds of the heater cycling in the background and wrapped up in a cozy sweatshirt and shawl. It's 40 outside.

The yard is dirty with leaves from the last season that whipped by and they are pooled at the door. It's the first thing we hear as Sammy and I head out to a walk: crunch crunch crunch. Man, I love that sound! I'm fishing through my holiday recipes and look down at my belly full of Jami's homemade pumpkin pie. Time to hang that wreath on the door.

Ready.

One of the Grandkid ornaments

Family Season: when you know the time has come to spend it with absolutely the most important people in your life. On skype, or phone, or perched on the chairs ringing the dining room table, warmth floods my heart in anticipation of the emotional battery recharge.  Christmas Eve candlelight service. A present at midnight. If any of the kids stay over, we get an extra morning hug. 


Set.

Mike & Me 1986

This crazy busy time demands attention but I love it. The storage boxes are down and old traditions pop out smiling and waiting along with me for the moment the children step over the threshold. There is no more beautiful sound in this world than the chorus of our children's voices coming from the other room as I hum carols and we put out the food.

Go!

(I've been singing them in the car since June.)

Am I using a different calculator?

The unemployment rates are down significantly, it was reported yesterday.

My world; my poll. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 of us were unemployed together in 2009. 

1,2,3,4,5,6 are still financially stressed out.  Two are working, but two have quit looking altogether, three are so grossly underemployed that their weekly earnings will not even cover a modicum of living expenses, and one is on disability (although not even that until the paperwork is approved).

I'm super grateful for making 3/4ths of my previous salary. My husband is super grateful to be earning 3/5ths of last week's salary. But there still is that nagging matter of figuring out how to make it work with mortgages and the cost of living sky high.

Math wasn't my major, but ...

SOPping Wet

I heard the other day that the newest excuse reason banks aren't lending money to consumers with even good credit is that it's Freddie Mac's or Fannie Mae's fault. I guess previously the standard operating procedure (SOP) was for banks to seal the deal (in whatever means possible) and then do the hot potato shuffle before the mistakes were discovered.

You know, like sell a car with a faulty engine or not disclose the house sits on Indian burial ground.

Well the twins are done with that nonsense. Now they are telling the banks: hey, if you messed up on the paperwork or qualification process, you carry the loan on your books.

Awwww: poor banks being told they need to clean up their own shit. Not sure yet whether this Tough Love stance involves fines and penalties for passing bum loans.

Do business ethics need to be legislated? Guess so.

Now Playing at a Theatre Near You, thousands skim from their business coffers to feed an enormous spending habit and lavish lifestyle. The accountant and business managers probably notice first, and so are frequently fired. Bad news is not very popular when what you are doing is fun.

It's their business risk, their money, their choice, they say. Totally legal. Nobody's business but their own. And all those someones who are working and harvesting the business are relying on the fact that the owner appreciates their role in his success.

The owner continues his lavish habit until it becomes a lifestyle. When things start to dry up, the owner shrugs and says It Is What It Is, the economy sucks, when there is no money for a new work truck or quarterly taxes. But he continues to draw what he needs for private school tuition and fancy client lunches and builder payments on that big expensive house. I mean, would you relish the idea of going home and telling your wife the summer trip to the Bahamas is off?

In no time, that sterling reputation that took a decade to build begins to erode. The folks in the office start to notice efficiency layoffs, and field questions about the company's finances. They work harder than ever but can't deny the small talk in small circles, and the phone ringing less. The owner rebuffs employee concerns by saying it is nobody's business but his own.

He's wrong. It's everyone's business.

The Think Tank

Sure, I meditate. The shower is my think tank.

All that chatter and white noise flows down the drain during the 12 minute session.  No distractions from music, talk shows, phone calls, or the cycling of the heater. No computer screen to watch for responses to a post.

Honesty just trickles down my back. I am close in, with the solitude. It is a reflection pool for my tears and disappointments. It is where I recharge the goodness battery. I pray and give thanks and decide what needs to be let go.

The water gets in deep, right down to the root.  It gives liberty to process and think everything out, and focus energy where it needs to go. And yes, even a place to finally forgive that mean girl in middle school who shattered my self image, and even us up. Now I never (well, hardly ever) think of her, too!