Paddle Your Own Canoe Quotes

Damn it all, you have been given a life on this beautiful planet! Get off your ass and do something!

Instead of playing Draw Something, fucking draw something

Really, all religious teachings can be boiled down to: “Just be cool. Don’t be an asshole.

Figure out what you love to do, then figure out how to get paid to do it.

Marijuana is quite possibly the finest of intoxicants. It has been scientifically proven, for decades, to be much less harmful to the body than alcohol when used on a regular basis (Google “Science”).

Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe.

Choose your favorite spade and dig a small, deep hole, located deep in the forest or a desolate area of the desert or tundra. Bury your cell phone and then find a hobby.

What will people say? Who fucking cares.

Know Many Trust a Few But Always Paddle your Own Canoe

Now, there are things I like just fine about church, and I don’t just mean making money. The notion of getting together as a community to remind ourselves why we shouldn’t behave like animals is a fucking great idea.

Pursue decency in all dealings with your fellow man and woman. Simply put? Don’t be an asshole.

I think the Bible is largely an amazing and beautiful book of fictional stories from which we can glean the most wholesome lessons about how to treat one another decently.

Jobs that require a suit upset me. They displease me much, as our world is rife with such superficial conformity.

I learned the word non-conformist in fourth grade and immediately announced that I would grow up to become one.

If there is a God, no part of the Bible or Christian doctrine will convince me of his existence half as much as the flavor of a barbecued pork rib.

and one of our vocabulary words was nonconformist. I just dug that word. I heard the explanation, the definition, and I felt like I had just learned about a new hero in a kick-ass Marvel comic book.

When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.

My favorite rule from Sensei was “Always maintain the attitude of a student.” When a person thinks they have finished learning, that is when bitterness and disappointment can set in, as that person will wake up every day wondering when someone is going to throw a parade in their honor for being so smart. As human beings, we, by the definition of our very natures, can never be perfect. This means that as long as we are alive and kicking, we can be improving ourselves.

Know many, trust a few, but always paddle your own canoe. 

The technique is: Let the others go first. At the airport, at the grocery store, at the Pleasure Chest (hey-o!). The calmer I become, the more I enjoy my day. The more I enjoy my day, the more people enjoy me and the more they want to see me in my enjoyment.

The arithmetic is quite simple. Instead of playing Draw Something, fucking draw something! Take the cleverness you apply to Words with Friends and utilize it to make some kick-ass corn bread. Corn Bread with Friends - try that game.

I eat a bunch of spinach, but only to clean out my pipes to make room for more ribs, fool! I will submit to fruit and zucchini, yes, with gusto, so that my steak-eating machine will continue to masticate delicious charred flesh at an optimal running speed. By consuming kale, I am buying myself bonus years of life, during which I can eat a shit-ton more delicious meat. You don’t put oil in your truck because it tastes good. You do it so your truck can continue burning sweet gasoline and hauling a manly payload.

A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion, but doesn’t. —Tom Waits

If there is a God, no part of the Bible or Christian doctrine will convince me of his existence half as much as the flavor of a barbecued pork rib. It is in that juicy snack that I can perhaps begin to glean a divine design, because that shit is delicious in a manner that can be accurately described as “heavenly.

We didn’t have to do anything to have a good time. It’s an incredible gift to be able to make your own fun.

Of course, my fundamentals may not work for everyone. A beautiful aspect of the human race is our endless variety. Like maple leaves and snowflakes, there are no two of us alike.

What exactly was Jesus’ take on violent capitalism? I also have some big ideas for changing the way we think about literary morals as they pertain to legislation. Rather than suffer another attempt by the religious right to base our legalese upon the Bible, I would vote that we found it squarely upon the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien. The citizens of Middle Earth had much more tolerant policies in their governing bodies. For example, Elrond was chosen to lead the elves at Rivendell not only despite his androgynous nature but most likely because of the magical leadership inherent in a well-appointed bisexual elf wizard. That’s the person you want picking shit out for your community. That’s the guy you want in charge. David Bowie or a Mormon? Not a difficult equation.

A moustache is a socialized way to say, "Okay, look, I'll let you see most of my face, since that's what we're all doing right now, but if you would kindly direct you gaze to this thornbush above my mouth, you will be reminded that I am a fucking animal, an I'm ready to reproduce, or rip your throat out if called upon, because I come from nature.

Theater, to me, is always a bigger turn on than film. It's alive.

Whatever the adversity, if a man is on hand to provide ease to a lady’s cause, I think he’s a shitheel if he stands idly by when she could use an umbrella, a handkerchief, or a steady arm.

Banding together with others to achieve a common pursuit cannot help but engender a strong feeling of community, whether you’re baling hay or mounting A Chorus Line in a tiny theater space.

How to Be a Man Step One: Eat a steak, preferably raw. If you can find a juicy steer and just maw a healthy bite off of its rump, that’s the method that will deliver the most immediate nutrition, protein, and flavor. Make sure you chew at least three times. Step Two: Wash it down with your whisky of choice, preferably a single-malt scotch.

Now, there are things I like just fine about church, and I don’t just mean making money. The notion of getting together as a community to remind ourselves why we shouldn’t behave like animals is a fucking great idea. Church was also the place to get a look at all of the young ladies in the other families, the better to determine whose young chests you’d like to target with your clumsy fumbling. It’s all the other shitty parts—like when priests tell you who to vote for in a presidential race, because they’re personally opposed to a woman’s right to choose—that irk me. That’s where church crosses my line. When the clergy get too big for their britches, they take these wonderfully benevolent writings from the Bible and crumble their intended integrity by slathering them with human nature.

Listen. I eat salad... I just now ate a bowl of oatmeal. That's right. Because I'm a real human animal, not a television character. You see, despite the beautifully Ron Swanson-like notion that one should exist solely on beef, pork, and wild game, the reality remains that our bodies need more varied foodstuffs to facilitate health and digestive functions...

As I have learned again and again from our nation’s finest towns, like Madison and Austin and Boone and Bellingham, a college lends a town excellent personality and panache.

The key lies in finding the delicious flavorings in one’s life, no matter how fancy your blue jeans may or may not be.

you cannot just blithely drift through life in your canoe whilst turning a blind eye to the bullshit going on around you.

If we pray to the Christian God in schools, we offend the Muslims and the Buddhists and the Hindus, and certainly the SubGeniuses and countless others.

The fact that creationism can even be a conversation is a goddamn shame and blight upon our nation’s character.

but, like an alcoholic or a fan of the Dave Matthews Band, he ultimately couldn’t control his self-destructive addiction.

As one goes through in life, one learns that if you don't paddle your own canoe, you don't move.

Love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.

believe me, I understand how fiendishly the Internet can tempt a body to indulge in diversion from one’s responsibilities, more commonly known as iniquity. Idle hands are never the devil’s workshop more than when those recumbent mitts are resting upon a computer keyboard.

We’re cognizant, curious beings, capable of philosophical thought, nuclear physics, repeating Nerf weapons, global consciousness, Glade air fresheners, and sentient automobiles. But we’re assholes first.

I find it consistently difficult to get around the notion that we are all, in our very natures, assholes. I am an asshole. I’m afraid you are also. That’s why the conversation about good manners even exists in the first place. We’re cognizant, curious beings, capable of philosophical thought, nuclear physics, repeating Nerf weapons, global consciousness, Glade air fresheners, and sentient automobiles. But we’re assholes first.

Very tough, but it is that very struggle with obstacles which does us good. Things have been made easy for you in many ways, but no one can do everything. You must paddle your own canoe now, and learn to avoid the rapids and steer straight to the port you want to reach. I don't know just what your temptations will be for you have no bad habits and seem to love music so well, nothing can lure you from it. I only hope you won't work too hard.

- Paddle Your Own Canoe Voyager upon life's sea, To yourself be true, And whatever your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe. Never, though the winds may rave, Falter or look back; But upon the darkest wave Leave a shining track. Paddle your own canoe. Nobly dare the wildest storm, Stem the hardest gale, Brave of heart and strong of arm You will never fail. When the world is cold and dark, Keep your aim in view; And toward the beacon work, Paddle your own canoe. ... ..Would you crush the giant wrong, In the world's free fight? With a spirit brave and strong, Battle for the right. And to break the chains that bind The many to the few To enfranchise slavish mind,- Paddle your own canoe. Nothing great is lightly won, Nothing won is lost, Every good deed, nobly done, Will repay the cost. Leave to Heaven, in humble trust, All you will to do: But if succeed, you must Paddle your own canoe.

The debate over the semantics of “preference” versus “orientation” is utter nonsense, and if you even suggest to me that one might “pray the gay away,” I will kick you soundly in your nuts or your juice box, just like I believe Jesus would have.

The pub, after all, is where so much of theater life takes place.

I've never met anyone nicer than my mom, and I've met Donny and Marie.

There is no part of this country where one cannot find a source of fresh, organic meat and produce.

Rather than suffer another attempt by the religious right to base our legalese upon the Bible, I would vote that we found it squarely upon the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien. The

As The Book of the SubGenius (the main text of a hilarious faux religion based in Dallas—get The Book of the SubGenius) says, “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke,” right?

A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion, but doesn’t.

Without teachers in our lives, we would be a bunch of sorry dullards, indeed. Dimwits and dunces.

Hoe. Lee. Shit.

When the clergy get too big for their britches, they take these wonderfully benevolent writings from the Bible and crumble their intended integrity by slathering them with human nature.

If we as a society properly reclaimed all of the construction lumber heading to the landfill and the bonfire every day, we wouldn’t need to cut down another tree for twenty years, if ever.

My life is always more delicious when I have whiskers on my face, but that might just be because those whiskers tend to accumulate bacon crumbs and scotch, rendering them literally delicious all day long.

A step further. Creationism. If you want to go in so deep as to ignore all of the advances and hard facts that SCIENCE and LEARNING have provided us in the field of biological evolution and instead profess that the creation story, written by men from their holy visions, about how the Christian deity spinning the world together out of the void in the magic of Genesis describes the true origin of the universe, that is your business. Terrific. It’s a cool story, don’t get me wrong; I love magic. Check out Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, which won a Newbery Medal. For the record, I don’t believe the book of Genesis ever won one of those. You and your fellow creationists profess belief in a magical story. You are welcome to do so. Sing and chant, and eat crackers and drink wine that you claim are magically infused with the blood and flesh of your church’s original grand wizard, the Prince of Peace. I personally think that’s just a touch squirrelly, but that’s your business, not mine. You will not be punished for those beliefs in our nation of individual freedoms. But I do think the vast majority of your fellow Americans would appreciate it, kind creationists, if you silly motherfuckers would keep that bullshit out of our schools. Your preferred fairy tales have no place in a children’s classroom or textbook that professes to be teaching our youngsters what is REAL. Jesus Christ, it’s irrefutably un-American, people!

Getting dirty is the whole point. If you're getting dirty, that means that you have traveled to where there is no pavement. When you sojourn into such terrain, you greatly up your chances of experiencing some full-on wild nature.

Work hard. Work dirty. Choose your favourite spade and dig a small, deep hole; located deep in the forest or a desolate area of the desert or tundra. Then bury your cellphone and then find a hobby. Actually, 'hobby' is not a weighty enough word to represent what I am trying to get across. Let's use 'discipline' instead. If you engage in a discipline or do something with your hands, instead of kill time on your phone device, then you have something to show for your time when you're done. Cook, play music, sew, carve, shit - bedazzle! Or, maybe not bedazzle... The arrhythmic is quite simple, instead of playing draw something, fucking draw something! Take the cleverness you apply to words with friends and utilise it to make some kick ass cornbread, corn with friends - try that game. I'm here to tell you that we've been duped on a societal level. My favourite writer, Wendell Berry writes on this topic with great eloquence, he posits that we've been sold a bill of goods claiming that work is bad. That sweating and working especially if soil or saw dust is involved are beneath us. Our population especially the urbanites, has largely forgotten that working at a labour that one loves is actually a privilege.

I’ll happily sport a bumper sticker that reads, “You can have my rib eye when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers,” or even write a bit of poetry. The Bratwurst: A Haiku Tight skin flute of pork. Juices fly, explode in mouth. A little mustard.

I here proffer my opinion that we, the people, are still being raped on a daily basis, but it’s a much longer, much slower fucking. The aggressors are the lobbyists for big tobacco and for guns and for pharmaceuticals and for agribusiness, and their filthy, turgid cocks are enormous, probing ram-shafts made of money. But wait, I thought this book was a lighthearted look at living one’s life deliciously? That’s all well and good, fat boy, but you cannot just blithely drift through life in your canoe whilst turning a blind eye to the bullshit going on around you.

Just don’t fucking tell me we should kill all the woodchucks because the Bible says so. That’s it. That’s all I’m driving at. It’s a book of stories that should be treated as suggestions. It is not a book of rules for the citizens of the United States of America. Do me a favor and read that last sentence again.

just give a prospective apprentice a broom and tell them to sweep. The quality of the job they do tells me a great deal about them. Attention to detail, willingness to go the extra mile, pace, fastidiousness, or lack thereof. If you can, hire the gal or guy who moves the furniture and rugs to sweep beneath them. Their work speaks directly of their desire to contribute to the well-being of the community. They know how to do a job right.

You will not be punished for those beliefs in our nation of individual freedoms. But I do think the vast majority of your fellow Americans would appreciate it, kind creationists, if you silly motherfuckers would keep that bullshit out of our schools. Your preferred fairy tales have no place in a children’s classroom or textbook that professes to be teaching our youngsters what is REAL. Jesus Christ, it’s irrefutably un-American, people!

Everybody knows, but many deny, that eating red meat gives one character. Strength, stamina, stick-to-it-iveness, constitution, not to mention a healthful, glowing pelt. But take a seat for a second. Listen. I eat salad. How’s that for a punch in the nuts, ladies? What’s more, as I sit typing this on a Santa Fe patio, I just now ate a bowl of oatmeal. That’s right. Because I’m a real human animal, not a television character. You see, despite the beautifully Ron Swanson–like notion that one should exist solely on beef, pork, and wild game, the reality remains that our bodies need more varied foodstuffs that facilitate health and digestive functions, but you don’t have to like it. I eat a bunch of spinach, but only to clean out my pipes to make room for more ribs, fool! I will submit to fruit and zucchini, yes, with gusto, so that my steak-eating machine will continue to masticate delicious charred flesh at an optimal running speed. By consuming kale, I am buying myself bonus years of life, during which I can eat a shit-ton more delicious meat. You don’t put oil in your truck because it tastes good. You do it so your truck can continue burning sweet gasoline and hauling a manly payload.

I love my country. Holy shit, do I love America. In many ways, it is the glorious result of some very open-minded thinking on the parts of our forefathers (and the ladies advising them) a couple of centuries ago. But that right there’s the rub, y’all. We’re a group of human beings, which means we can never be done trying to improve ourselves, and by default, our systems, including our government. Now, here’s the deal: Invoking the Bible in any public school or at any government function? Un-American. Making a witness in a court of law place his or her hand on the Bible? Un-American. Disputing legislation based upon what it says in your holy book? NOT PATRIOTIC.

There is no part of this country where one cannot find a source of fresh, organic meat and produce. I’m not talking about Whole Foods, I’m referring to farmers’ markets and local butchers and fishermen and -women. If you can’t find a source for fresh produce and eggs and/or chicken, bacon, and/or dairy products, by Christ, become the source! What more noble pursuit than supplying your community with breakfast foods?! If you want to read more about this notion, by actual smart and informed writers, pick up some Michael Pollan and some Wendell Berry. I have no intention of ever ceasing to enjoy red meat. However, I firmly believe that we can choose how and where our meat is raised, and I’m all for a grass-fed, happy steer finding its way to my grill long before a factory-farmed, filthy, corn-fed lab creation. It’s up to us to choose farm-to-table fare as much as possible until it becomes our society’s norm once again.

Scupper walked to the sitting room, calling back, “I used to know most of it by heart, but not anymore. But here it is, I’ll read it to ya.” He sat back down at the table and began reading. When he got to this segment: “And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said, ‘Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm— Since I left Plumtree down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.’” Scupper and Tate chuckled. “Your mom always laughed at that.” They smiled, remembering. Just sat there a minute. Then Scupper said he’d wash up while Tate did his homework. In his room, scanning through the poetry book for one to read in class, Tate found a poem by Thomas Moore: . . . she’s gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear; Long and loving our life shall be, And I’ll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of death is near. The words made him think of Kya, Jodie’s little sister. She’d seemed so small and alone in the marsh’s big sweep. He imagined his own sister lost out there. His dad was right—poems made you feel something.

each other and build a life together, I say more power to them. Let’s encourage solid, loving households with open-minded policy, and perhaps we’ll foster a new era of tolerance in which we can turn our attention to actual issues that need our attention, like, I don’t know, killing/bullying the citizens of other nations to maintain control of their oil? What exactly was Jesus’ take on violent capitalism? I also have some big ideas for changing the way we think about literary morals as they pertain to legislation. Rather than suffer another attempt by the religious right to base our legalese upon the Bible, I would vote that we found it squarely upon the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien. The citizens of Middle Earth had much more tolerant policies in their governing bodies. For example, Elrond was chosen to lead the elves at Rivendell not only despite his androgynous nature but most likely because of the magical leadership inherent in a well-appointed bisexual elf wizard. That’s the person you want picking shit out for your community. That’s the guy you want in charge. David Bowie or a Mormon? Not a difficult equation. Was Elrond in a gay marriage? We don’t know, because it’s none of our goddamn business. Whatever the nature of his elvish lovemaking, it didn’t affect his ability to lead his community to prosperity and provide travelers with great directions. We should be encouraging love in the home place, because that makes for happier, stronger citizens. Supporting domestic solidity can only create more satisfied, invested patriots. No matter what flavor that love takes. I like blueberry myself.

Of course, my fundamentals may not work for everyone. A beautiful aspect of the human race is our endless variety. Like maple leaves and snowflakes, there are no two of us alike. Therefore, while my tactics involving the cultivation of lush facial hair and the consumption of pork products, as well as those derived from beef, may not be exactly the steps of the path you might tread on your own way to “delicious living,” perhaps my techniques will at least inspire you to forge your own discipline, providing you with the necessary skills to blaze your own trail.

Voyager upon life's sea, To yourself be true, And whate'er your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe . . ." Harper's Magazine - May 1854

Don't wait for others to, paddle your own canoe.

Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe.

I did a production of THE CRUCIBLE... It's such a great piece of literature to work on, and if you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so now. This riveting memoir chapter will be here when you return... Okay, back? Pretty gripping, right?

The Bratwurst: A Haiku Tight skin flute of pork. Juices fly, explode in mouth. A little mustard.

Make my leavings or get out of the water closet, as it were. Some months later I managed to pull

You don’t put oil in your truck because it tastes good. You do it so your truck can continue burning sweet gasoline and hauling a manly payload.

Michael Pollan and some Wendell Berry.

You Loved a Woman Once" She told you of childhood summers, mayflies trembling beside the bridge of her nose, hunting frogs. Skinning them on a brick, the house smelling like their small, fried legs. All she wanted was for you to carry her home in a canoe with paddles, life vests, a flare. You promised to teach her how to swim when she was in your arms. Your own body, broken into so many times, became a clear lake for her to bathe in. Remember pulling the one tiny, suckering leech from below her neck, the pale collarbone Braille it left. You said the boat was her shoulder in your mouth, even when you couldn’t bear her epaulets of freckles, even when nothing but a body would do and there was no body but her own. Below her—lily pads, dragonflies, the worms dug up last summer and thrown from the dock to see fish rise in a boil—now all snapped raw in the frozen pond. And speaker, coded “you”—what about the light straining through her dampened hair, will you catch it in your jaws? There’s the smell of paper on her skin and you pressing her body like a flower in a book.

Learn something daily. Do massive work. Take personal responsibility for your wellness. Fortify your peak health. Hang out with good people Waste less time. Trust your instinct. Paddle your own canoe. Be super loving.

Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe,

Wherever you go Whatever you do Always paddle your Own Canoe

Wendell Berry (our nation’s most venerated living agrarian author and far and away my personal favorite writer;

We were learning the rudiments of plot, theme, and vocabulary, and one of our vocabulary words was nonconformist. I just dug that word. I heard the explanation, the definition, and I felt like I had just learned about a new hero in a kick-ass Marvel comic book. I raised my hand and I said, “Nonconformist. That is what I would like to be.

I'd say the ratio of kids using Christianity as a cover for illicit activities to kids actually engaging in the sincere worship of our Savior was about three to one.

18. Paddle Your Own Canoe So get out your paddle, take a deep breath, smile and get going. And watch the journey unfold. You are now living the adventure for real, master of your own destiny. You are no longer waiting for someone else to help you out; you are not expecting to be handed something on a plate. You are your own rescue. Now you understand the phrase: ‘If it is to be, it is up to me.’ It feels good, eh? Doing it yourself. Paddling your very own canoe. Now it is all about hanging on for the ride!

Life is hard enough when you are operating at 6, 2 and even.

rust few, no more than you, and always paddle your own canoe...

Trust few, no more than you, and always paddle your own canoe...