Mr. & Mrs. Murphy

Seeds IX, 27

Seed: Mr. & Mrs. Murphy

Did you know that there really was a Mr. Murphy, as in Murphy’s Law? Yessir, he was an Air Force engineer in the 1940s. You know his law, I’m sure, If anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible time. Can you say, “glass half-empty?” I can.

Know anyone like this? We all do it, actually. It’s the way we’ve learned to use our own minds against ourselves. Try it this way: You lose your keys. In an instant, no, faster, your brain is searching its own files for “Lost Key Experiences.” It says something like this: Aha! Remember the last time you lost your keys? You were late to work and it was the straw that broken the bosses’ back and . . . need I go on?

Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Murphy’s helpmeet, Mrs. Murphy. She too (surprise, surprise) has her own law. If something can go right, it will.

At one point when I was a kid, our address was 4544 East Oregon. Two blocks down was a different address: 4544 East Orange. It didn’t take long for the postal worker to mix up our addresses. Guess who lived on Orange? Mr. and Mrs. Murphy and their four children. Mrs. Murphy became my mom-away-from-mom. Whenever I wasn’t satisfied with my own mother’s answers to whatever I dreamed up, I went to Mrs. Murphy. She always steered me right. Thanks, Mrs. Murphy.

Be serene,

Dr. Susan Corso

Seeds are remarkable gifts. Sown in consciousness, they bring you to the most important part of your being—your Divine Spark.

When you have friends you would like added to the Seeds e-mail list, send their addresses to me at SeedsDrCorso@comcast.net

Who’s Your {Super}hero?

As a rule, magazine articles don’t make me cry, but reading Utne this morning, I teared up and spilled over. The article is called “Geek Squads: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! “It’s a superhero—in your neighborhood!” In my original flip through the magazine, I was pretty sure this article was about those wonderful white socked, skinny-tied computer wizards who make housecalls, but no . . .

Author Kristen Mueller cites a magazine called Punk Planet, “An entire community of real-life superheroes patrols the streets from Los Angeles to Boise, Chicago to Phoenix.” Who knew? A New York City superhero named Dark Guardian said,

“It’s all about standing up for what’s right.”

The President of the United States commuted Scooter Libby’s prison sentence the day before yesterday, and I am dismayed. This action is so far from standing up for what’s right that it makes me feel ill. That’s why I cried over the superheroes. Because they exist.

The thing it made me wonder about is this: does a superhero/ine exist in each one of us? Let’s say it does. You have a superhero inside you. Who is he? Who is she? Would you let him/her out if you could? When? Under what circumstances? Why? Why not? What’s her name? How is he costumed? What’s the mission?

A New York metro area superhero named Tothian says, “I’m pretty much fighting the bad guys, saving the world, that kind of stuff.” Superheroes also pick up trash, stop older kids from bullying younger ones, and provide hope—hope that there is within ourselves and our race a genuine, natural desire to stand up for what’s right.

Another superhero in Flagstaff, Arizona, Kevlex runs the World Superhero Registry. He says that real-life superheroes are trying to prove that . . .

anyone can provoke change

by “taking a stand for your version of the world, and doing it in a very public way.” I suppose it could be argued that this is just what George W. Bush and his cronies are doing, but the superhero designation adds a twist to the equation.

In ancient mythology, a hero/ine was a human who mediated between humanity and the divinity, a human plus and/or a deity minus. On this Independence Day, consider spending a little of your holiday daydreaming your own inner superhero/ine into reality. We need the hope your existence inspires.

Why Do I Give? What Upset Me?

Recently friends of mine who have a theatre company received their not-for-profit status from the Internal Revenue Service. It’s a matter for much rejoicing because the IRS doesn’t hand out 501(c)3 status without a lot of work. I immediately sent them a contribution.

This was a few months ago. I never heard from them. Not a call, an email, nor a tax deduction letter. I don’t like this about myself, but it bothered me. It also made me look at why I give. One question I asked was, do I give to get thanks?

The real answer is no, I don’t. But it bothered me that they hadn’t thanked me, or acknowledged my gift for tax purposes. I had to dig deeper about what was bothering me. When I went to see a performance of theirs last night, there was a list of donors in the program. My name wasn’t there.

Some of you know that I have a lot of experience in the professional theatre. The theatre started out to be my career on earth until life made a mid-course correction for me. It took most of the first act to figure out why I was bothered by the omission.

At the reception afterward, I was finally clear enough to mention the experience without sniping. (There were layers of emotion to work through till I was clear.) I cornered one of the founders, told her my story, and finally got to the crux of the matter for me. It was one of conscience.

I said, “I don’t care if my name is listed. That’s not the point. The point is that if my gift was overlooked, what others were overlooked, and are you hurting yourself by being out of integrity in your business dealings?” The co-founder got it in one.

I give, dear one, because, like all humans, I like to give. It makes me feel good. Public acknowledgment for giving is nice, but that’s not the point. I was upset in behalf of my friends because I was worried that they’d offended other donors.

Moral of the story: look carefully at your upsets. What you think is personal might not be personal at all.