Morning. Sunshine. Clear skies. Nice.
Kids are working on math at the moment. Spelling test coming up. Oldest working on history. I’m piddling with the cowtippers site.
Fence seems to have held back the hoppitty hoards. Corn (what’s left) is intact.
The phone rang this morning. It was a bill collector. A tacky part of being poor is having to fend off bill collectors. They were calling for my wife. This is very rare. There are only two possibilities, that they’re calling from some medical billing place or Chrysler. Either way, the person got my goat!
There are a couple of doctors whose billing departments failed to file on her insurance like they were supposed to. Now, rather than filing they’ve just been billing us. Nobody is more bloodthirsty than those in the medical profession. Could have been one of them. If it is, we’ll have to provide them with notice to buzz off.
If it was Chrysler, the caller has violated Federal law by making the phone call. You see, the local dealer lied and manipulated us into a vehicle two years ago that was over priced and over financed. They gave us far too little for our trade-ins. The dealer, SOUTHERN CHRYSLER DODGE (remember that, don’t go there!), is the sorriest excuse of a dealership in Texas. When the ridiculous note became more than we could handle we tried every way we could to get out of it. Chrysler would not budge. We fought them an entire year and then let them have the vehicle back. We had no other choice. In the process, though, I managed to brush up on the law. We notified them that according to Federal Law they could not contact us ever again. Period.
So, anyway, this person called. I told her my wife was at work. She said she’d call there. I asked if she was a bill collector. She asked why. I informed her she could not call my wife’s work. She said she knew her rights and I said so did I and she said she could and I said she couldn’t and she said she knew the law and I said so do I and she got mad because she said she’d been doing this nineteen years and ….. I got angry. I hung up.
I have a temper. For a long, long time, though, I’ve been learning to keep a lid on it. I’ve gotten very good at letting the steam off and not getting mad. These days not much makes me angry. I work hard at being “slow to anger.” There’s just something about a smart-mouthed know-it-all bill collector that sets me off. I do not know why. It bothers me that it does. When it does I have difficulty trying to think. It’s terribly annoying. I get mad all over and whatever I’m doing kind’of gets lost in my head.
Why is it that a person on a phone has such an effect on me? Is it my frustration that I have no income and can’t find work? Is it that these people have no mercy and no respect for the law? Is it my pride breaking through? IIIiiieeeek. What?!
This kind of episode is very good at cracking my shell of self-respect. All I believe in, all I strive for, all I stand for, forgiveness, respect, kindness, love, these fly out the window like an old shoe. And THAT bothers me more than getting mad. How freakin’ human I am! And I don’t like that at all. Being human sucks. Having all this crap in my head to deal with. It is such a struggle. No wonder so few ever get past their humanity.
There are very, very few on this earth who exemplify the nature of Jesus. The Buddha taught anybody could become a Buddha, all they have to do is completely abandon self. Not many Buddhas around.
Yesterday I cut small pine trees to use for posts. Had do, couldn’t afford to buy fence posts. Pine is known for one thing: rosin. It’s sticky, schticky, clingy and darned hard to get off. “Self” is worse. It oozes out of us like pine rosin from a cut in the bark. It collects all kinds of dirt and gunk. It sticks to stuff and it’s very hard to get rid of. Like that pine we might be sweet and fresh on the inside but it’s not that part that people see very often, it’s the sticky, crappy rosin we let leak out all over the place. Arg.
In my heart I seek perfection, pure selflessness, a connection with the Creator. I seek to be a Buddha in the pure sense, to be enlightened to the point that self is gone and I’m nothing but what the Creator wants me to be. Why, o’, why is this so difficult?
I sure wish I could find out. Till then I just might quit answering the phone altogether.
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