Perhaps I'm Winning

I worked Thanksgiving to support a friend, and missing Thanksgiving dinner with other friends. It was a rough work day. When the friend started work, looked at what was going own, her comment "Holy Mother of God." Yep. Never heard her make a comment like that before. And a well placed one at that.

Would I do it again, next year? No way, no, no well,  not unless I lose my mind, or my heart tells me a friend needs help. Yes, ok, I know I didn't sign up for an easy day. Didn't mean I wasn't hoping to be wrong. Thought a part of my pines for that Thanksgiving dinner experience, doing the right thing leaves another kind of deep satisfaction.

Yesterday, I broke my streak for meditation, writing, and drinking my protein shakes everyday

 After working 9 1/2 plus hours on the 6th day of my work week. I was way tired. Oh, yes, I could have left after 8 hours, except I just couldn't,  too much left to be done - then when I told someone I would not leave until certain things were done - her reply was,  "Yeah,  you and what town!!!!!".

Well, that did indeed make me set my heels in determination. Oh, yes, I can. Well, suffice to say I won. I completed the task I set out to complete against seemingly impossible statistical odds. I win.

So, yesterday, basically, I slept, slept, slept, and slept some more. When I remembered I had not gotten up to meditate, I felt bad. However, perhaps I meditated when I was sleeping. Naw, that doesn't work. Feel bad about breaking my streak. Sigh.

However, I was smart enough to go grocery shopping, and on my outdoor adventure to a new place before I went home at after work.

So my 600th new place to visit this year - Lynnwood Municipal Golf Course. A pretty, serene beautiful place to be with dawn breaking, nice meandering walk, don't think I have seen a sand trap up that close before, ponds, bridges, enjoyable  - well, right up until someone came after me with an electric golf cart, and kicked me out. My first request to leave the premises. Awesome.

********
And what exactly do you think this proves?" he spits. "You've got power, but you don't know what to do with it."
VIOLA
"Looks like I'm doing fine," I say.”
― Patrick Ness, The Ask and the Answer
********

31 more days if I am to make my original commitment part 1 on this "park" journey. Amazed still that I have come this far. So curious to see if I make it. Truly I do not know. Nothing tells me if I will "win" or not.

Mary Oliver - In Blackwater Woods.

Posted by Oriah Mountain Dreamer today on Facebook - I love Mary Oliver's poetry.

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.


hmm band is taking a break back into a denser mood, at least I grabbed the other computer today so I could get back into email. I came to the conclusion yesterday was meant for writing rather than reading. Still curious how well the universe guides my flow.

Seasonal Note

My heart is feeling heavy today, not entirely sure why. Perhaps some of it has to do with this happens to be my least part of the year. I fear I have little hope of getting through the "Christmas" season without being abrasive and offending or constantly being offended on a daily basis. Now doesn't that sound like a less than significant personal problem. Yep even to me.

I mean what's so bad about people wishing you Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays all day. Unfortunately, unless I make an extra effort, everything is wrong about it for me. Yes, honestly, I can hear the good intentions, I can hear it makes lots of people happy.

But, I just wasn't raised Christian, and the presumption that everyone celebrates this holiday grates against me. I want to be a kindhearted person, but this time of year just makes me want to be left alone. Normally, it means I try to stay home as much as possible until January. I haven't worked it out this year in my mind yet.

I believe this the 335th consecutive day that I have left my house on my park adventure path. I doubt I have been out of the house that many days in a row in my entire life. Quite an interesting phenomena in and of itself. I can feel my commitment faltering. Even if the journey ended today it has been immensely valuable. Valuable not only the things seen, the joy felt, the curiosity around. I was going to say curiosity satiated. Nope. Still have a storehouse of curious. Valuable in pulling me out of my reclusive shell, out of my patterns into the flow of daily life, community, people, conservations - why I even initiated myself.

And I have been able to tweak a bit of my behavior. Backtracked in the car used to bother me, now not as much as venturing into all these new neighborhoods on my park/garden/trial treasure hunt has generated
a lot of situations where I needed to turn around, go back, try again that day or another day.

And my ability and willingness to traverse hills has improved. Is it an area of comfort no, not at all. However it is more of a choice. Twice this week I went up and down a narrow winding road that I knew was not going to park. I even turned around to go back to one. As I was turning, I asked myself if I must do this, myself said yes. That's a good thing because there was absolutely nowhere to turn around for a long time. I am grateful to make these small stretches into having choice rather than resistant.

I count any improvement in flexibility a good thing. So I shall try to understand that people don't that everyone isn't Christian or participating in this holiday.

On a cool note Thanksgiving and Hanukkah fall on the same day this year I have read this won't happen again for a long time - one article again 57 years, another over 7,000 years. I didn't read closely enough to catch the difference for the longer time quoted in the first article. Do I celebrate Hanukkah, nope -tried it out doesn't call to my soul. Thanksgiving, yes.  I definitely am wanting to give thanks.

May I learn to be kinder, less self-centered. Still my heart feels heavy perhaps there is another unseen reason.

it is the time to
open to the hearts of others
pull off the shell of self
arise in consciousness
not just in their holy days
greet them everyday

Not there yet, someday, trying to grow roots, perhaps then I can flower.

And for my soul I must end on a semi-humorous realistic note.

“...God created the world in six days. On the seventh day, he rested. On the eighth day, he started getting complaints. And it hasn't stopped since.” ― James Scott Bell, Sins of the Fathers

Ah, the universe is going to poke my spirit into a more jovial mood - I am sitting at Third Place Books - whew - not holiday music - big band - how I love this type of music - hmmm - dancers starting up - a rousing rendition of Get Me To The Church On Time. Oh sweet, the next gentleman has never sung this song in public before - Pennies From Heaven.

Thank you, Mom for this wonderful music while I was growing up, and I must go watch the dancers, heck with it being my TV night.

“And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite of our desperate determination never to forget.” ― Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds

“...real loneliness is having no one to miss. Think yourself lucky you've known something worth missing.” ― Emma Donoghue

 “I rebel; therefore I exist.” ― Albert Camus

After such deep existential ponderings I opt for some external pictures, well right after a few more words:

I stand outside
so you may know
that patterns are
only that

Well, I see as much as I want to move to a picture book frame I am still in deep thought I cannot seem to disengage or more likely don't want to disengage. So some small excerpts is necessary here for me to play my thoughts off of from The Michael Teachings


Michael on the Overleaves, Part Three

Michael channeled by Shepherd Hoodwin
May 10, 2010, BlogTalkRadio chat
Transcribed by Maggie Heinze


The seven attitudes are the ways personalities frame their experiences, placing them in a context. You must frame your experiences one way or another; otherwise they are random and have no meaning. The way you frame your experiences has a lot to do with how you experience them.

The seven attitudes in this system: Skeptic, Idealist, Cynic. Realist, Pragmatist, Stoic, Spiritualist

So in this part of the system I fall under Realist. Here is Shepherds take from the same article:


"Realist," being cardinal on the action axis, is a big-picture way of looking at things. Realists try to collect all the relevant evidence and make sense of how it all fits together

So this remembering of who I am is helping make sense of the play of receiving wonderful intuitive hits on things and not following.

The latest was a message to replace the photo card in my camera . Clear message - you will want to stop and get a new card at Walgreens. 

Well, thank you internal guidance or whomever , but I happen to know that couldn't possibility need a new card. This one is not that old, I upload pictures and clear the card so not full.

So you already know the correct answer. I pulled out the camera to take pictures at the park. Error message cannot write to this card. 

I am caught in how in the world do "they" know this stuff. I use this camera everyday - not a single problem - none.

Then after decades so why don't I listen. I think I've got. I didn't listen because it wasn't realistic. Now, am I likely to change with the advent of this information? My first guess is know.
Being a Realist I have to wait and see.

Now next issue, yesterday, I thought I might take off a day of emails though lately it has been my greatest joy. Hmmm, I changed my mind. Yahoo has decided  for me that I will not open  email today. Maybe I will understand it all tomorrow.

 

Looking at an expansive field I looked down - what amazing world

An Ancient Song

i stand in the divide
between souls
between worlds
is it mine to decide
who to help
who to step aside for
who to let fall
who to raise up

i have been here
. . . . . millennia
sometimes fogs thicken
i am never lost
nor always sure
how clear is my vision
crystal - sometimes a in flash,
a blaze of understanding

i only know i span aeons
you have likely met me
most who travel have
know me? doubtful
my job is not to be known
it is to observe
and perhaps to step up
when, sigh - the quandary

as i must stand outside
it my place of belonging
mine is to see patterns
not to become be part of
yet i slip over and over
chose a path over freedom
my heart falters, notates
my place - the inbetween

A Little Zen

Oh, cool a quote from the book I really enjoyed

“The famous Zen parable about the master for whom, before his studies, mountains were only mountains, but during his studies mountains were no longer mountains, and afterward mountains were again mountains could be interpreted as an alleory about [the perpetual paradox that when one is closest to a destination one is also the farthest).” ― Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking

And currently, on my meditation is a book of Zen stories and Zen koans. It is an interesting being to my day. And many stories end with so if you are thirsty go drink, or the dog says woof. Ah, the ever active mind.

So not from my book, but her is one from Ashida Kim website


4.   Obedience
The master Bankei's talks were attended not only by Zen students but by persons of all ranks and sects. He never quoted sutras not indulged in scholastic dissertations. Instead, his words were spoken directly from his heart to the hearts of his listeners. His large audience angered a priest of the Nichiren sect because the adherents had left to hear about Zen. The self-centered Nichiren priest came to the temple, determined to have a debate with Bankei. "Hey, Zen teacher!" he called out. "Wait a minute. Whoever respects you will obey what you say, but a man like myself does not respect you. Can you make me obey you?" "Come up beside me and I will show you," said Bankei. Proudly the priest pushed his way through the crowd to the teacher. Bankei smiled. "Come over to my left side." The priest obeyed. "No," said Bankei, "we may talk better if you are on the right side. Step over here." The priest proudly stepped over to the right. "You see," observed Bankei, "you are obeying me and I think you are a very gentle person. Now sit down and listen."

“Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.” ― Jane Austen, Persuasion

Grateful

the full moon has me
is that even reality?
i spinning in circles
as it strums my emotions
too many octaves hit at once
concurrent waves
striking chords of loss
honeyed sorrow
a hand touches my heart
again i am human

“Non-judgment quiets the internal dialogue, and this opens once again the doorway to creativity.”
― Deepak Chopra

From her blog, excerpt of a thought to ponder from my friend Jan

I believe in reality. It is a strange world living in the bounds of reality. We are like ancient mariners or Greek pottery from 3,000 years ago. Reality wraps around us, there and not there. Then and not now. Is reality any more real or less real because we are living through it? Alive now and not there or then. Where does reality cease to be reality? When does it drift so complete and transparent that it is gone?

Reality is the rhythm of days, of life. No purpose, no grand plan or scheme, just living, just being.

Neomia Jan Carrillo-Jones on The Spirit of  Maxine

“It's not that I believe everything happens for a reason. It's just that... I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It's how life is.” ― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

Interesting perspective

Something About Relationships

“There are moments when i wish i could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but i have a feeling that if i did, the joy would be gone as well. So i take the memories as they come, accepting them all, letting them guide me whenever i can.” ― Nicholas Sparks, Dear John

It has been an odd thing people all around me in the daughter and mother dynamics. My work to do. Still wishing I had been kinder and more open with my mother. As much as I may feel love and appreciation for her and the lessons she tried to teach me, I ultimately come back to the same point of just not feeling close to her. I do not say this without guilt. It is a guilt I have carried a long time. Perhaps I will set down one day, perhaps not.

Two different friends at work talking to me within a short span of time. One wishing to be left alone, but not willing or able to say so; the other remembering what a blessing her mother was.

At one store, daughter speaking of difficulties with her mom; the next the reverse. The Universe is calling my attention to this issue.

“In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We’re each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We’ve got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there is a lot of grey to work with. No one can live in the light all the time.”   ― Libba Bray

Some of Todays Journey

Friday - Hmm and who ever told me that I should go out without socks today was crazy - cold. One lap around the Storm Pond was more than ready for home, commitment met, done, cold, done. However, the just does not factor in the fact I was dipped in curiosity a few extra times.

 

So slowly I visited a few more places  to please my soul

Song For The Moment

This song calls me this week.

Dignity Quote

“Dignity
/ˈdignitē/ noun

1. The moment you realize that the person you cared for has nothing intellectually or spiritually to offer you, but a headache.
2. The moment you realize God had greater plans for you that don’t involve crying at night or sad Pinterest quotes.
3. The moment you stop comparing yourself to others because it undermines your worth, education and your parent’s wisdom.
4. The moment you live your dreams, not because of what it will prove or get you, but because that is all you want to do. People’s opinions don’t matter.
5. The moment you realize that no one is your enemy, except yourself.
6. The moment you realize that you can have everything you want in life. However, it takes timing, the right heart, the right actions, the right passion and a willingness to risk it all. If it is not yours, it is because you really didn’t want it, need it or God prevented it.
7. The moment you realize the ghost of your ancestors stood between you and the person you loved. They really don't want you mucking up the family line with someone that acts anything less than honorable.
8. The moment you realize that happiness was never about getting a person. They are only a helpmate towards achieving your life mission.
9. The moment you believe that love is not about losing or winning. It is just a few moments in time, followed by an eternity of situations to grow from.
10. The moment you realize that you were always the right person. Only ignorant people walk away from greatness.”
― Shannon L. Alder, Never or Forever

Hmmm

Hmm, what does it say about me that I love this quote?


“You're insane!" she shouted.
"Pretty cool, huh?"
"No!"Tally yelled. "Why didn't you tell me it was broken?"
Shay shrugged. "More fun that way?"
"More fun?" Her heart beating fast, her vision strangely clear. She was full of anger and relief and...joy.
"Well, kind of. But you suck!”
― Scott Westerfeld, Uglies


Yesterday, a strange day. It is included someone absconding with my bag at work. It was strange way before that happened. I rarely bring my personal journals into the office, but my internet died at home so they were included in the bag with my dinner.

Mind you, I work in a secure building. I have left my bag there pretty much everyday for years. Half way between my office and the café area.

Freaked out on an already shaky day. I found someone in another part of the building holding it who tried to scold me for leaving it there. It is a shelf, put there for people to set their things. Hmmm. Did not go over well with me. Ok, I not leave my journal anyway in here again. And she has been warned to not abscond with my bag again. But she wanted me to know that things could still be stolen. Yes, now I do know that.

“But I can hardly sit still. I keep fidgeting, crossing one leg and then the other. I feel like I could throw off sparks, or break a window--maybe rearrange all the furniture.”   - Raymond Carver

It's been a kinda a raggedly day. I discovered something amazing useful about anxiety that I had not know before. I saw some rock sculptures at the top of a hill. I quickly pulled over. Surely, this must be an unmapped park (it was/is).

However, the only means of finding out what it really looked like entailed climbing a steep narrow staircase up the hill into the unknown (then there would be the down part - potentially worse).

Good lord, my anxiety is through the roof today. Sigh,  but I am ever so curious. Much to my surprise, my anxiety did not go up like it normally does when I feel I am in a precarious climbing situation. Apparently, my anxiety was high enough it wasn't being bothered with the addition of potential "danger". That was/is a fascinating, and useful thing to find out.

And I saw an interesting unnamed pocket park with a large sculptural installation I truly enjoyed.

“Neva ought to smile more. It breaks her anxiety into tiny pieces of joy you want to gather up and hand back to her in your palms, as if to say, “See what you can make when you loose the reins.” ― Vicki Covington, Bird of Paradise

Forms

break-ing form
crac 
      k
like an egg
runny, thick
sticky
slow
settling into shape

Anxiety

solid, present real
a boulder of "feeling"?
more a massive silent wall
i press against it
it presses back

crystallized it stands
the only way sealed
? by my thoughts
? by my emotions
the presence rails
"How dare you?"

I am silent perhaps lost
a conundrum, a knot, a puzzle
no - none of the above
my instincts abraded
my mind a visitor

observe, listen, shatter
but what will shatter
me, the presence, the wall between
and from where come such deep roots

A Poet I am - Maybe

         my life is shifting
sometimes by
centimeters
  s
    l
      i
        d
                 i
    n
                    g
                       down
        into the corners of
my                          mind
           comes a truth
                 S
                 P
                 L
                 A
        !         S        !
                 H
          !!! !!!!!!!  !!!


I decided today I was indeed a poet, Is the above possibly gimmicky indeed could be. Was it fun. Absolutely, it was born that way, flowing. Perhaps, I will rework it someday, perhaps not.

I read a wonderful article which I shall have to reference later with the name of the article and author. It was in reference to the works of a poet who like to sculpture with words, and believes the spaces in between can be equally important.

So I thought why not me. After deciding was a poet, the rest of the today has been an on and off dialogue, rocky with ego challenging questions such as "Does this mean I think I write poetry?" Umm, yes, yes it does I write poetry. "Does it mean I think I write good poetry?" Nope, didn't say that. .. circular questioning all just in the claiming of a noun.

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
― Leonardo da Vinci

"If I create from the heart, nearly everything works; if from the head, almost nothing." ~ Marc Chagall

"No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another. Good example is followed. A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves." Amelia Earhart

"We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness." Charlie Chaplin

Enoying The River

And, and excellent quote, perhaps minus some of the musical references. I want to write like this, perhaps because I feel so linked to rivers in inexplicable ways:

“I thought how lovely and how strange a river is. A river is a river, always there, and yet the water flowing through it is never the same water and is never still. It’s always changing and is always on the move. And over time the river itself changes too. It widens and deepens as it rubs and scours, gnaws and kneads, eats and bores its way through the land. Even the greatest rivers- the Nile and the Ganges, the Yangtze and he Mississippi, the Amazon and the great grey-green greasy Limpopo all set about with fever trees-must have been no more than trickles and flickering streams before they grew into mighty rivers.
Are people like that? I wondered. Am I like that? Always me, like the river itself, always flowing but always different, like the water flowing in the river, sometimes walking steadily along andante, sometimes surging over rapids furioso, sometimes meandering wit hardly any visible movement tranquilo, lento, ppp pianissimo, sometimes gurgling giacoso with pleasure, sometimes sparkling brillante in the sun, sometimes lacrimoso, sometimes appassionato, sometimes misterioso, sometimes pesante, sometimes legato, sometimes staccato, sometimes sospirando, sometimes vivace, and always, I hope, amoroso.
Do I change like a river, widening and deepening, eddying back on myself sometimes, bursting my banks sometimes when there’s too much water, too much life in me, and sometimes dried up from lack of rain? Will the I that is me grow and widen and deepen? Or will I stagnate and become an arid riverbed? Will I allow people to dam me up and confine me to wall so that I flow only where they want? Will I allow them to turn me into a canal to use for they own purposes? Or will I make sure I flow freely, coursing my way through the land and ploughing a valley of my own?”
― Aidan Chambers, This is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn

Gardens

Exciting a book exchange at Hillman City P-Patch

Park Stones

"We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindness there is at last one which makes the heart run over." Dr. Samuel Johnson

Benches

Flow?

“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”― Abraham Joshua Heschel

My plans for my days off - sleep, park, sleep. Sigh, oh yeah - sleep, meditate, park, sleep. Oh, wait.

sleep, chant, prayer, meditate, write, park, shop, nap, and how could I forget it's TV day.

I woke up shivering yesterday I fell in bed exhausted from an emotional week. Forgot to turn on the heat. I do love wrapping up in blankets to meditate anyway. That morning I just couldn't get warm. Oh, well, time for the outer world anyway.

I visited one of the two parks I hoped to see. It wasn't a park I could walk around in, just walk the edge. So I ended up going down to the Sound, a walk on the beach, and sitting on a log. After sitting awhile watching the white caps on the water, the irony surfaced I was happily sitting in an icy wind blowing across the water. I suspect it had to be much colder than the inside of my apartment. So how much of "cold" is psychological or contextual.

Sitting by the Sound, almost like sitting by the ocean, I feel lighter, expanded, connected. So perhaps not so centered in self.

Today, I dug the myself out of my soft, warm bed. A cozy, warm meditation. A journey out to Duvall. Back to the water. a perfect bench next to the Snoqualmie River. One high enough to allow me to comfortably dangle my legs. I suppose being able to dangle my legs brings that feeling of being a carefree child. (Not sure I was one in my younger years.)

I love watching river currents. I was noticing the main body of the water flowing north. There were, also, little whirlpools here and there. Reminded me of my own thoughts falling off track and swirling into themselves.

A few challenging conversations this week. I believe in getting authorization from management to deviate from the norm. The challenge came when there was a disagreement when two of perceived the situation differently. I viewed her as acting without authority, and well she called me chicken. Strange times. We both stuck to own our principles.

She said she found this pattern interesting to observe in me. I struggle with what looks like her audacity. I, finally, said this part of me, my principles were "glued" to my soul. Quick witted, she offered "Solvent?" Nope, I like my principles.

It causes a little extra whirring of those circular thoughts, away from the flowing river of consciousness, and into a pattern I could use solvent for - the need to be right.

"We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness." Charlie Chaplin

Water - connecting, swirling, white caps, flow

Perhaps

"When I was young, I used to admire intelligent people; as I grow older, I admire kind people". -- Abraham Joshua Heschel

Dilemma - my dragon T-shirt has huge rip - so does it RIP (Rest In Peace) or should I attempt to save it? I do believe this shirt came with me from California to Washington. Making over 20 years only. Oh yeah, I don't sew. But dragon is special energy, ancient wisdom. energy of ancient ancestors. And, yer, I still don't sew. Ok, buttons, I do buttons.

As I ponder this,  I am thinking about the news I listened to last night about the  most powerful storm recorded was bearing down of the islands of the Philippines, super typhoon Haiyan. I know no one living there, but I work a number of people who have family and other loved ones there. As I was going to sleep, I was thinking somehow of a parody of the old song "He's got the Whole World in His Hands". Ok, maybe  a storm far away isn't mine to deal with, but what if it is. I came to mind to just hold the islands and the people in my hands. Is it anything, but self soothing. Again, I don't know.  My heart says love and care for them in the only way I know how prayer. As my mind sort what to pray for or imagine, from the winds dissipating, to seeing people in padded bubbles of energy.

I opened the news right before continuing to see sadly that many people lost their lives in the storm. Devastation was less than expected because it passed more quickly anticipated.

It leads to many thoughts of how easy my life is, my dilemmas pretty miniscule, ripped T-shirt, spotty internet (how many million have no internet or no computer or even shelter, food, safe, water). traffic annoyances (I have a car of my own - millions do not).

I had another interesting experience in the car. In rush hour traffic, someone cut in front of dangerously just missing oncoming traffic. I opened my mouth, a little scared and angry, to exclaim "Why can't . . .
and my mind filled in the sentence with  . . . I be more kind?" Not what I was expecting. Nope not at all.

My mind or spirit had a good point. How do I really what's going, how would I know what their motivation or need maybe - all I saw was an impediment in my world.

How would I know if this action was, wrong, bad, stupid? How is it that I feel so free to slam a heavy negative judgment on one action. How would I know if that action allowed me to be slowed to the pace that changed the paths I crossed today.

So how come I am not kinder?? Is it mine to care about others in the world, not just in the path of nature, but, also, the daily traffic journey. Perhaps. And how about just allowing kindness as a better, more comfortable framework from which to operate and view the world for my own well being.



Perhaps, I should ask how can I be kinder?

“In my small way, I preserved and catalogued, and dipped into the vast ocean of learning that awaited, knowing all the time that the life of one man was insufficient for even the smallest part of the wonders that lay within. It is cruel that we are granted the desire to know, but denied the time to do so properly. We all die frustrated; it is the greatest lesson we have to learn.” ― Iain Pears

One of many paths on which I have walked this year - Chief Sealth Trail

If I deciphered the guide right this would a beautiful Panther Mushroom

“I have never yet figured out what to do about good advice that you get, and that you know right away would help you, but that you cannot follow.” ― Holly Lisle

A Few Poem Like Lines

 I struggle with calling this poetry. I educated with the idea it is ok to abandon form in writing once you have learned it. Yet I have learned no form thoroughly, my meter is wrong for Haiku, and is the word even meter. Hmmm.

Today I thin of them as statements of consciousness (socs for plural) I suppose because it amuses me to do so. And it might absolve me of claiming this is poetry if it isn't. Suppose I could equally call it word play.

10.28

help me find the right road
i seek the sky path
where our souls may meet

*******

each journey is so rich
dipped in karmic stew
may we honor rhe feast

*******

harmonize your heart
truth sits waiting
open the cosmic chest

10.29

bow to the moment
working our way through
rest in the opening

*******
story pictures
mind fill
clutter silence

10.30

come play, over here
the page beckons
scrawls become words

*******

how does silence arrive
how does it pick its way through
how does it clear all the words

*******

thank you self
whirling around
a cental core

10.31

whispering light
playing around the edges
just like random thoughts

*******

sticking close to center
venturing to the familiar
only to find the unique

*******

each moment crystallizes
it is only itself forever
impressions each new


11.01

maple sugar
soft lights
gramma's oven

*******
contemplation
rings of thought
settling into heart pond

*******
carved out of inner space
pockets of time
intertwined dimensions

*******
wandering into time
curious paths to unfold
moments curving into each other

Vignettes

Walking through the park, I see a group of teenagers, I feel a little ill at ease. As I reach the part of the path parallel with them, I see in the center  a couple practicing the waltz holding each other at a distance my grandmother would approve of . . .

***********

I am trying to make a turn to go out to drive along the shore in West Seattle, cars won't let me over. I am mumbling "No, no, no, I want to stay on the edge, I don't want to go the center.

A car cut in front of me with stickers on the back window: Sureel; HUF

And I ended up on a viewpoint with a beautiful view, totally different perspective than being on the edge.

***********

Wondering if scholars like at probabilities rather than truth, like premises; and yes we love discoveries and choices.

“Some folks can look so busy doing nothing that they seem indispensable” ― Kim Hubbard

Sure seemed like a busy week, OT everyday, was I indispensable nope, was I helpful, supportive, and productive, yep.

“We become neighbors when we are willing to cross the road for one another. (...) There is a lot of road crossing to do. We are all very busy in our own circles. We have our own people to go to and our own affairs to take care of. But if we could cross the road once in a while and pay attention to what is happening on the other side, we might indeed become neighbors.” ― Henri J.M. Nouwen

A Belated More Serious Part II of My Little Magical Story

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Kennedy

So, the day I ended behind a license from Illinois, next to a truck with the name Mismo, continued on further down memory lane.

As, I was going to hit forward to heard the next track the CD, my hand slipped, I hit the eject button instead, bringing on the radio, playing a song from decades ago. It was the song playing in the hospital as I was wheeled out of the operating room.  I made a decision not to have a child. I would make the same decision today. I was the kid that played with stuffed instead of dolls. Never intended to have children. Yet, the song can't helped but begin of memories.

My best friend was pregnant at the same time. I had a few times of wondering watching her kid grow up. Lately, listening to an India.Arie break up song where she notates wondering who their child would have grown up to be. Not in love with the child's father, Ken, myself. 99.9 % ok with my decision yet an occasional thought creeps in.

Just washing away another layer, hopefully.

I reached my park destination for the day, Bradner Gardens. I didn't get to far before a cat started wrapping itself around my legs. I tried to ignore it a first, still taking pictures, enjoying the view of the new garden.

Finally, I got that it would impossible to ignore the cat. All the time I have on this park journey, I have never been approached by a single cat. So I sat down on a wooden bench (ironically) with carved fish to visit with the cat. Hmmm, the cat looked exactly like my first cat. The cat that disappeared around the same time my dad did. We had a good visit. The cat followed me the rest of garden. I looked down at the end to say goodbye. The cat was gone.

Brushing away a little more.

Wondering how memories get stuck in there anyway, coated with emotions, interspersed with beliefs, twisted into the fabric of my unconsciousness - rising up now and again - kisses or curses of a long gone past, roads not taken.

Is it not so with every choice?

“because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. no matter what else has changed in you or the world, that one song stays the same, just like that moment.” ― Sarah Dessen