Fate and Retail

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“A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!”   ~  J. K. Rowling

WordPress site was down this morning so I could not post. Sorry. Fate? I don’t know, but I have been contemplating Fate lately. Something I need to learn. Also been contemplating retail business. Go figure. Lunch hour! Back to work. Tally ho!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Surprise Within the Stripes


“It looked as though the leaves of the autumn forest had taken flight, and were pouring down the valley like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, all the leaves of the hardwoods from here to Hudson’s Bay. It was as if the season’s colors were draining away like lifeblood, as if the year were molting and shedding. The year was rolling down, and a vital curve had been reached, the tilt that gives way to headlong rush. And when the monarch butterflies had passed and were gone, the skies were vacant, the air poised. The dark night into which the year was plunging was not a sleep but an awakening, a new and necessary austerity, the sparer climate for which I longed. The shed trees were brittle and still, the creek light and cold, and my spirit holding its breath.”  ~  Annie Dillard

Weird. I’ve had several spells of Cosmic peace this morning, of oneness, whatever, and the Sun ain’t even up yet. I must be caught up on my rest, reckon? The oneness, the Cosmic peace, is not like the more mundane variety, which to me is a temporary respite from worries, anxiety, and stuff. The Cosmic type is coming within a breath of Eternity. And, no, I did not go to Colorado to visit the marijuana dispensary yesterday. I ain’t been puffin, k? So don’t even try it dude. Truth is I’m kinda dopey on the natch, at times. Now, first light is creeping in. Third cup of coffee, poured and waiting, vapors enticing; cat sacked out up on the bed, Oh my, she sure does have a pretty coat. Hey, something I noticed for the first time in all of my life – I’d always assumed that a cat’s stripes were composed of alternating patches of uniformly colored hairs. For some reason (I think it was just the light catching at a certain angle) I found myself examining a single hair, only to have it dawn on me that there are stripes are within a single hair. The stripe pattern runs across all of the fur. It’s hard to put words to it, but I am totally amazed by this discovery. Still, a cat’s stripes are going to be there whether or not I am around to look at them. The true news here is that my childhood curiosity and sense of wonder remains intact through the years. Admittedly, my wow threshold is rather low. That has a lot to do with it, me thinks.

I don’t remember ever seeing clouds as being mauve in color, but they were this morning. It passed within minutes, but the hue was truly there. Yet another point of wonder. There is a uniform layer of clouds overhead. I could see a straight line break in the clouds up to the northwest. Birdsongs are sweet and perky. I can’t rightly say why I am so on about curiosity this morning but I suspect that it is because I have been reveling in the investigative reporting being done in the political scandals that are bubbling up like noxious goo in our nation’s capitol. These gals and guys are heroes. And their approach to discovery is clearly developed to the level of science. I admire them all greatly. Rachel Maddow is rightly a leader in the pack, but I have a thing for Katy Tur. Just sayin.

I came across the opening quote while on my usual quote search this morning. Annie Dillard. The woman blows me away. Although a little more flamboyant, she reminds me of Barbara Kingsolver in many ways. Nature writing. Fact is I never sat down to even begin a list of my favorite writers. There are many more than I can even think of at any given time. Here’s the thing. I’ve been totally blown away by the Starz Network’s adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s brilliant New York Times bestselling novel, American Gods. I’m paying eight bucks a month to watch it. No money was ever better spent. Never. Neil’s writing blows me away. He is definitely a fantasy writer, and I like reading fantasy. Heck, I’m even pretty good at living it. But Neil writes without hanging the ‘big picture’ out where everyone can see it. David Foster Wallace did that as well. Textural passages ripe with factual, seemingly mundane details reveal the big picture only in glimpses. Ya gotta do the work. But the payoff is grand. Soooo, yesterday I sought to do what anyone might do about a favorite artist. Starz Network did a documentary about Neil. I decided I might like to learn more about the man, so I started watching it. “Started” being the operative word here. It didn’t resonate with me. All I need to know about the man is revealed through his writing. That’s the point. Look at it this way – Umberto Eco was a chain-smoker. What’s that got to do with The Name of the Rose? Sigh. I must get to my working day. Bueno bye.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Wild Horses in Dreamtime


How long have I been sleeping?
How long have I been drifting alone through the night?
How long have I been running for that morning flight?
Through the whispered promises and the changing light  ~  Jackson Browne, Late for the Sky

“Reality is always plural and mutable.”  ~  Robert Anton Wilson

“We look for the Secret – the Philosopher’s Stone, the Elixir of the Wise, Supreme Enlightenment, ‘God’ or whatever…and all the time it is carrying us about…It is the human nervous system itself.”   ~  Robert Anton Wilson

Yes, I am late, considering that my morning reflections are up and running, while I am often down and sitting still, by 7 AM. Ponder that for a few moments, then  . . . ummmm, what’s it to ya? I first comprehended the phrase “what’s it to ya?”, if indeed I had ever heard it at all before that, in my 7th grade English class. We students were all working on the day’s lesson when one student went up to Ms. Riddle’s desk, interrupting whatever she was on about, to ask a question. She turned, smile on her face, and said “What’s it to ya?”. I don’t recall if she ever answered the question because that was answer enough for me. Though somewhat dour in temperament, I did find humor in sarcasm. To this day, however, I truly believe that she had indeed answered the question in the most truthful way. As for the lateness, I slept a very long time: 9.5 hours. I have been aspiring to that for weeks now. The cool part, beyond the urgent need for rest, is that I was deep into Dreamtime, and not just dreaming; and I suspect there were horses there; and Cougar. You can go back and edit Dreamtime to some extent, because it is a timeless realm, and our will and intentions are indeed more powerful than you can imagine. That’s another thing that has been lacking to a troublesome degree in my life: magick. I suspect that the reason for this lack has been that I have been in a power struggle with someone who, with or without foreknowledge, has been shoveling some baneful shit my way, magickally speaking that is, and I have nearly depleted myself through self-defense, which has been both necessary and exhausting, especially considering that it has taken much effort to maintain a merely defensive position, and yes, I slipped a few times. Sometimes it is necessary to ‘slap’ someone who needs slappin, whether they know it or not, and that goes for either/both the slappin and the need. The unspoken conflict may go on regardless, but I doubt it. But back to the sleep thingy, I was awakened by Rosie the cat, who had taken to leaping repeatedly over my head. I barked at her a few times, nevertheless she persisted. Finally she somehow turned on my printer and set it to perform some task or other, so I had to get up to turn it off. The kicker here is that it was still 45 minutes before her usual feeding to, which is a mostly prompt event, at a fixed time. So I called her a bad name and made some coffee before too long. Which brings me to this moment. I have forgiven the cat. The coffee is long gone. And here I sit contemplating driving up to Colorado to have a first look at a marijuana dispensary. It’s only an hour’s drive. I could have lunch in San Luis, which is a very sweet old town; the oldest in Colorado. Yeh. And it is also a gorgeous drive. And you can sometimes see wild horses along the way. Hmmmmm . . . bueno bye.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Que Sera, Sera


“Re-examine all you have been told. Dismiss what insults your soul.”   ~  Walt Whitman

Your soul is metabolizing experience as surely as your body is metabolizing food”  ~  Deepak Chopra

“Concepts of dying in to a heaven or hell seem a good deal more political than spiritual.”  ~  Stephen Levine

“If in any quest for magic, in any search for sorcery, witchery, legerdemain, first check the human spirit.” ~  Rod Serling

There is a small bit of frost as the Sun rises behind the mountain. I just poured the third cup of coffee although I know it is cooked by the burner, but it’s not too bad after all. It’s been a long morning and I’ll likely go back to sleep for an hour or two. It is needed. I’m just tired enough to know better, to not let myself go iconoclastic this morning. From all my reading online so far only one thing has moved me, and I ain’t too keen on that one. I was reading a list of issues from the Republican platform; like ya know what they think the country should be. Turns out they want us to be a Christian nation and I’m like all say what!? Yeh, it’s unconstitutional. But what does that matter, right? No one is forcing . . . oh, never mind. There’s no plan for the day. That’s all I care about. Que sera, sera. The cat is purring away on my lap. The chickens and the turkey are out and ranging free in the yard. And it seems I am reaching a little too far in trying to find something to write about. Ugh. Grumpy boy here is going to make a statement then publish this short post. The statement? Ummmm . . . I feel grumpy.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Avoiding the Unhealthy Pool of Pathos


“Did you ever look back at some moment in your past and have it suddenly grow so vivid that all the intervening years seemed brief, dreamlike, impersonal—the motions of a May afternoon surrendered to routine?”  ~  Roger Zelazny

Enough news already! I can get caught, as if in a vortex, by the news these days. My feeling is one of relief and excitement. These bastards, our executive administration, are finally having their feet put to the fire. It will be fun to watch them dance. My feelings have also gone beyond schadenfreude. They really do need to be held to the light, be dragged kicking and screaming out of their lairs. There is no misfortune involved anymore. This really does need to happen, because they have been very very bad little boys and girls; mostly boys, of course. Because they have grown into adulthood, have reached high levels of power, apparently leaving their maturity and consciousness on some coatrack at some college from their early days. I will say no more about this today. I mean WTF? I’m gonna step outside for some fresh air. Gon out. Bisy. Bisy backson.

Cold morning in May. Below freezing. Coffee all gone. Cat asleep. My eyes are so tired lately. More so than the rest of my body and mind. Maybe I’ve been trying too hard to make sense of things when I really need to cultivate nonsense. Nonsense has something in common with boredom in that it is something that is occasionally of great value for one’s health. Yes, I was among the missing yesterday. It worked quite well for me . . . cloud hidden, whereabouts unknown sorta thing. But one cannot actively seek the Tao. I think that’s what the downtime is all about. My late soulmate once said an odd and revealing thing to me. We’d been spending a lot of time together. One night I really needed to cut it short, regretfully so in that my desire for her company was a force of Nature. When she got all pissy with me for heading home I explained to her that I need a lot of downtime. She looked me in the eyes, with her sparkling eyes, and said “What? Aren’t you human?”. That says a lot. Truth is, Lori dear, I am not human enough, but I am working on it. After these two decades since you left me for the Other Side I am still working on it. And my current point and place in time is requiring a lot of work of that nature. I seriously need my downtime these days. Now, back to you readers, I don’t often talk to Lori that way. She died long ago. I often think about her, at her. She is someone I would have liked to . . . . shit, I don’t know what I am trying to say. I just miss her is all. I think that one reason I am becoming more willing to talk to this beloved ghost is that my overextended grieving is coming to an end. It’s been necessary for me to put an end to it, simply because my heart is opening up to, once again, the prospect of finding a woman to spend some quality time with. And with Lori in my way that just ain’t happenin, k? It’s that simple. Hey, am I being too personal here? I don’t think so. Let’s put it this way. During my weekly psychotherapy session a few days ago the therapist kinda pulled a non sequitur on me by saying, out of nowhere, “Ken, that accident changed your life in an instant”. She was talking about the bike accident head trauma NDE thing. Well, ever since that accident I have found that a healthy dose of mythos keeps me from diving into an unhealthy pool of pathos. Ooooo, I like that last sentence! In those first few years – yes, years – mythos and mysticism formed a crucially important survival mechanism. Have you ever had a severe head trauma? Don’t. Just don’t. They don’t give ya no life vest for those things. You’ve gotta, no matter how much human assistance you get (I had almost none), learn to float again under your own power. It takes an act of will. A big act of will. Now, I know I am flirting with subtle metaphor here. But the undercurrent right now is something that began long ago, before that accident. It is an upbringing sort of thing; an education sort of thing; a personal worldview sort of thing. Even though my life changed in an instant I tried subconsciously to continue as if nothing had changed. I still do. I am – or at least I can be – a quivering lump of assumptions. But, there is a key here, and it has to do with Lori, in a big way. Without that accident it is highly improbable that I would have had the essentially exquisite treasure of meeting her. My therapist asked me what my life would have been without the accident. It would not have been pretty, I said. That says a lot; my reply surprised me. Also recently a woman I know asked me if I believe in Fate. Well, yes I do, and I also enjoy the fact that there are Three Fates. Because Fate is a multi-dimension sort of thing. Some sources suggest that the Three Fates were the daughters of Ananke, the personification of Necessity. Well, looking back at it now, I do hold to Lori as having been a necessity. “Having been” is yet another key here. I am cutting you loose, Lori. Tis best to treat the Ancestors as companions, not masters, mistresses, whatever. But still walk with me, my love, if you so will: advise me, laugh at me, with me. If I meet someone new, please bless me. For now, I have run up against the gainful employment thing. Time to shower, dress, and groom. Did ya know that a hardware store is a good place to meet women? It is. Everybody has to fix or build things on occasion. Including me. Tally ho!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Simply That Kind of Day

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Feeling comfortably numb here and I don’t feel like writing this morning. But I did take the time to fish up a couple of quotes from a writer I admire more than most; presented here simply because I want to. It’s simply that kind of day. Simply is the word for it.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

“I’ve gotten convinced that there’s something kind of timelessly vital and sacred about good writing. This thing doesn’t have that much to do with talent, even glittering talent… Talent’s just an instrument. It’s like having a pen that works instead of one that doesn’t. I’m not saying I’m able to work consistently out of the premise, but it seems like the big distinction between good art and so-so art lies somewhere in the art’s heart’s purpose, the agenda of the consciousness behind the text. It’s got something to do with love. With having the discipline to talk out of the part of yourself that can love instead of the part that just wants to be loved.”  ~  David Foster Wallace

“The Sophists had this idea: Forget this idea of what’s true or not—what you want to do is rhetoric; you want to be able to persuade the audience and have the audience think you’re smart and cool. And Socrates and Plato, basically their whole idea is, “Bullshit. There is such a thing as truth, and it’s not all just how to say what you say so that you get a good job or get laid, or whatever it is people think they want.”  ~  David Foster Wallace


In a Mysteriously Simple Way

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“Nothing can temper the spirit of a warrior as much as the challenge of dealing with impossible people in positions of power. Only under those conditions can warriors acquire the sobriety and serenity to withstand the pressure of the unknowable.”  ~  Carlos Castaneda, The Fire From Within

“Forbearance is to wait patiently  –  no rush, no anxiety –  a simple, joyful holding back of what is due.”  ~  Carlos Castaneda, The Fire From Within

Cold, blessed rain, hot coffee. After the first cup kicked in I realized that the usual suspects of anxiety and . . . ummmm . . . just anxiety really, had not garnered my attention since waking. That’s pretty good. I’m tending toward attributing that to yesterday’s massage. I’m framing the massage in a holistic manner, driven by a focus on energy flow and deeply encapsulated pain. At one point in the massage, after she’d done extensive work all across my back, I flashed into attention that showed me the back as a whole, as a system. I had to pause and search for words to describe what I was feeling, and her reply was laconic, which was comforting in a mysteriously simple way. I am somewhat blown away by how much warehoused pain I have in this body. Now don’tcha go tellin’ me we all do. Like no shit dude. That “we all do” thing is a conversation stopper, k? This is about me, simply because from where I sit and from what I am expressing here it essentially must be about me. This is my jump-off point of reference, view, whatever. That’s why I usually start off a post with a coupla mundane details. Set and setting are important if raising consciousness is your goal, and it is my goal. You may be hearing more about that in the coming . . . days, weeks, whatever. These days I am coming to see that I am listening to my soul, and much of what I am hearing is surprising, which is comforting in a mysteriously simple way. Right now, in this cluster of moments, I feel an urge to step outside for some fresh, moist air. Gon out. Bisy. Bisy backson. (the italicized words are a direct quote Winnie the Pooh. Noting this for new readers so you don’t wonder WTF is wrong with this guy)

A spare amount of rain falls from an ephemerally textured pewter sky. It’s cold but the cold feels good. My attention point shifted yesterday. Something budged. This fact alone is comforting in a mysteriously simple way. I’ll leave it at that, because writing time has run out, and I want to stretch a tad before my shower.

addendum: as per the opening quotes, they are taken from Carlos Castaneda’s The Fire From Within. This book was a seminal read for me. I read it during the first year after my NDE. The ideas and concepts the author put forth were crucial tools in finally getting my cognition back online after the head trauma. I highly recommend the book to anyone who likes, or can at least tolerate, a dose of mystery and weirdness in a story. Click here for complete book in pdf.

Peace out, y’all.Goof gloriously

On a Sweet Day


“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.”  ~  Joseph Campbell

“The resting place of the mind is the heart. The only thing the mind hears all day is clanging bells and noise and argument, and all it wants is quietude. The only place the mind will ever find peace is inside the silence of the heart. That’s where you need to go.”   ~  Elizabeth Gilbert

“There is almost a sensual longing for communion with others who have a large vision. The immense fulfillment of the friendship between those engaged in furthering the evolution of consciousness has a quality impossible to describe.”  ~  Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Too tired, and a tad sleepy, to concentrate this morning. Looks like a sweet day on the rise, with the start being temperature in the upper 30s. I do love a good early morning chill. So, why tired? It’s a hermit thing. The solitude is serving me well lately, so it seems there is a real need for it. But being out in public, and dealing with so many people, as I do in my work, is particularly draining these days as well. Stress-related events piled up. That’s basically it. So, now, I think I’ll go let the chickens out of the coop, then feed and medicate the cat.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Certain Amount of Anticipation


“Those honor nature well, who teach that she can speak on everything.”  ~  Blaise Pascal

“Honor is honesty to what is, not blind duty to what you wish to be.”  ~  Terry Goodkind

“What is magic? In the deepest sense, magic is an experience. It’s the experience of finding oneself alive within a world that is itself alive. It is the experience of contact and communication between oneself and something that is profoundly different from oneself: a swallow, a frog, a spider weaving its web.”  ~  David Abram

Today, so far, is about allergies and magick. Let’s hope it doesn’t stay that way. Feeling somewhat beaten down here. Right down to my bones, I’m tired, yet I feel a fair amount of energy in the day to come. We can draw energy from our surroundings. I know, that’s not news. I’m just reminding myself. Or maybe I’m talking about magick. Tomorrow is massage day. That’s where my focus is fixed. The intimacy of massage is way cool. It is a lovely form of manipulation, and, if you can go there, of surrender and trust. I hear that some people make a solemn thing out of it, all quiet and stuff, in contemplation, or whatever. Me, I’m fine with yakking the whole time, because my massage therapist is good company and pleasant to talk with. Plus, it can be educational as well. Wait, what? “Plus . . . as well”? Ain’t that redundant? Sure is. My bad. Point is she will tell me what she is doing at any particular point, or in some general area, even using technical terms, which delights my intellect. Yeh buddy, my mind gets massaged too. I would have it no other way. But that is tomorrow. Be in the present moment, right? Ack. Okay, I’ll do it. But to me magick is about more than the present moment. There’s a swirl to magick. It flows from all around the moment, all around, both in space and in time. It shimmies right on down into the individual cells of the body. When the Spirit enters the body it does so in a totally comprehensive manner, going throughout, thoroughly, not just taking up residence in a chair in the general vicinity of the heart, kicked back with a cup of tea. Or maybe it’s just me. Celtic spirituality says that we are within our souls, not the other way around. There’s a lot to that, but I ain’t inclined to go there today. In fact I’m going to just leave all of it hanging right here. Such is magick. It sometimes requires a certain amount of anticipation to garner attention from the mind. Don’t think about that too hard, k?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Watercolor and the Spirit Dancer

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“Slowness means cleaving perfectly to time, so closely that the seconds fall one by one, drop by drop like the steady dripping of a tap on stone. This stretching of time deepens space. It is one of the secrets of walking: a slow approach to landscapes that gradually renders them familiar. Like the regular encounters that deepen friendship.”  ~  Frédéric Gros

“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow.”  ~  Robert Pirsig

Three cups of coffee in and this day still feels quiet, nearly peaceful. I could get used to that, but it ain’t gonna last, is it? Maybe yes and maybe no. I came up with that last sentence, used subsequently as an idiosyncratic catch phrase, inspired by the lovely mind of Justin Trudeau’s father, who was also Prime Minister of Canada, just like his son is today. I used to playfully revel in the fact that, back then, the heads of state of the US and Canada were both Libras. To me it seemed that the elder Trudeau, Pierre, always appeared to weigh issues so carefully; a very Libra thing to do. Maybe yes and maybe no. Simple really. As for the US fella, it was Jimmy Carter, who inspired me to come up with and use the phrase “Good night, yer on your own”. That came from listening to Jimmy’s televised speeches and briefings. In looking back I can’t blame him really. He was coming in on the heels of Watergate, so he always had that hint of sketchy wonder lodged in the twinkling of his eyes, like “WTF just happened?!!!“. I reckoned that Pierre sometimes had the same reaction to Watergate that Jimmy seemed to carry with him while hoping that his pendant was not an albatross. So now, some forty years later, we have a new Trudeau up north and a new Watergate-like situation in this country. Except that our current president is no Libra. I don’t know what he is, except maybe a literally demented monster, of sorts. I now reckon that Trudeau the Younger must have had a “WTF just happened?” when our new president was elected.

All that aside, the sunrise is progressing nicely. There is some songbird out there, beginning to sing to bring up the Sun. A short while ago some neighborhood dogs were barking low, as if in reaction to coyotes nearby. I didn’t hear any coyotes so I don’t rightly know that, but I think I am pretty good at understanding dog language. Now, moving forward. Our opening photo today here at EyeYotee blog is a little thing I whipped up while playing with software yesterday. It is drawn from a photo I accidentally snapped as I struggled to get my iPad back into my shoulder bag yesterday at the laundromat. The pad was mostly back into the bag when it happened. I have no idea how the icon was tapped to turn on the camera, but it happened, so no analysis was needed. I figured that the resulting photo would be purely black due the pad being in the bag. I wouldn’t have bothered even looking at it were it not for the fact that when plugging the iPad back into the iMac the photo software in the Mac automatically triggers the software to open up to upload any photos that are new on the pad. To my surprise the photo was not black. It was an image of the background on the screen, complete with the time and date and stuff. I cropped out the time and date then proceeded to play with the low resolution image. BTW, there’s a metaphor in there somewhere. The pad snapped an image in the dark, and because the lens could not ‘see’ the image was looking back upon the pad. I think we all do the same when trying to see in the dark. All we get is our own stuff, because there is no ‘out there’ out there when in the dark; all sight is turned inward, reflected back, whatever. So, as I played with the image I began to see it as somewhat of a watercolor image, which led me to run it through PhotoArtista, an app that makes a photo image look like a painting. Now, why watercolor? While at the laundromat I realized that business there was slow, maybe because of Mother’s Day. Then I began to realize that I was missing mom sorely, though I had not been cognizant of the longing until that moment. I decided to ask mom for a sign from beyond. I am a firm believer in afterlife communications. On the way home, after picking up some beer, I decided to take the back roads rather than the highway. Near the end of my trek, right there by the Sheriff’s Substation on Blueberry Hill, a dust devil rose up from the sage, just to the right of the road. As I passed by the vortex it suddenly moved toward me and engulfed the car with its gritty roar. The Lakota people call a dust devil a Spirit Dancer. Long ago, when Coyote still held overt power as a god, he used his power to make death permanent. It had not, up until that time, been permanent. Coyote made it so. As a result these departed spirits then wandered the land, and when they manifested they did so as Spirit Dancers. So there ya have it. The dust devil was mom’s way of granting me with a sign of her presence. But wait, there’s more. Mom was a watercolorist. So she also gave me the watercolor-like image. It kind of resembles her work, although mom’s paintings had a little more definition to them. Please note that the colors in the photo look as if there is a lot of dust in there air. Right? You do the math. I gotta get ready for work. And to walk with the goddess as I navigate the marketplace today. The Divine Mother. My recently strong attraction to a beautiful smile from a beautiful woman. I can’t get away from this stuff. Nor do I want to.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.