Steve Roberts – Page 9

What’s Worth a Big Smooch?

Adverse conditions are our spiritual teacher, sages say.  That’s why we might consider kissing Trump’s ring.  You know, metaphorically speaking.  Few people have made our nation so dangerous and our government so mean-spirited.  Few people, therefore, have obliged us so strongly to engage in one of life’s most important activities––sharpening our sense of:

    • What’s essential, what we cannot live without.
    • The values we hold sacred.
    • Who we aspire to be or die trying, no matter what.
    • And, given our answers (for ourselves individually, and for the world), the healthiest action we can take now.

Trump may be over the moon nuts, a crackpot extraordinaire with no ethical center, as trustworthy as a brain surgeon with hiccups, but anybody who prompts us to pay attention to considerations that help define the well-being of every person on earth is useful, if not enjoyable.

Read More

Responding to An Old Sneaker in the Punch Bowl


In this dream, Dear, my wife, had died.  Gathering for the memorial service in a big old stately church (probably in Boston, her hometown) was every single person whose life her love had touched, even unknowingly.  And not just the living.  The dead too.  It was a heck of a turnout.  And I’ll be damned if Trump didn’t show up.

Read More

The Inspiring Pain of United

So why did the United Airlines customer ejection fiasco occur, and what can we learn from it that can serve our ability to make healthy choices in every circumstance that comes our way for the rest of eternity?  (After all, why would we pay attention to anything if that weren’t the payoff?)

Read More

Caring for the King of Addiction

NOTE: Dave Letterman nicknamed him Trumpy.  I won’t use it, but I think it is fitting for a guy I’ve titled the King of Addiction.  “Trumpy, the King of Addiction.”  Sounds like a best-selling t-shirt to me.  But can we wear it with compassion for the man who made it necessary?

Read More

Stagger Onward Rejoicing

I yelled at my wife.  I never yell at my wife.  I wasn’t nasty.  I was just bombastic for 10 long seconds.  She didn’t mind.  She knew what was going on.  I was struggling, unsuccessfully, to manage the grief that we as a world community almost seem to be drowning in.  It was a humbling reminder: Trump, and the soulless assaults on human dignity his presidency incites, are not responsible for single thing I think or feel.

Read More

"The push to change the words “nigger” and “injun” in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, because the so-called offensive nature of those terms might limit today’s readership and appreciation of that literary classic, is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on how we avoid taking responsibility for our feelings––and therefore miss the chance to become more awake, more whole, more useful friends to one another."

The Essay: The Gold in Niggers and Injuns