Sometimes When You Fall You Fly

“Don’t for heaven’s sake, be afraid of talking nonsense! But you must pay attention to your nonsense.” ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but ‘steal’ some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.” ~ Albert Camus

Prepare for the storm. A mighty cold front is due to be moving into Nuevo Mexico del Norte tonight. Bring it on. That’s what I say. But I also say if ya wanna chill best sit still. That’s me today. I have a rare Saturday off from work. The change is here. Summer is slowly slipping away, fixin’ ta go down like Wile E. Coyote when his grasping fingers finally fail and the fall becomes inevitable. The great Neil Gaiman wrote that sometimes when you fall you fly. But flying coyotes is not something I am not prepared for quite yet. I’m still quaking in my boots from that vivid image of flying cats with opposable thumbs. Even Lovecraft couldn’t top that! Sigh. Yes, I am feeling unaccountably goofy today. I can feel Autumn down to my bones – and it tickles. Forecast says as much as seven inches of snow through Monday evening. But today I can’t sit totally still. I have some flying of my own to do. Ciao.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Time Is The Longest Distance

“Time is the longest distance between two places.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“In a reverse way, sharing my mother’s long, slow dying consumes my creative energy. I manage one angry and bitter story, and feel better for it, but most of me is involved in Mother’s battle. Watching her slowly being snuffed out is the opposite of pregnancy, depleting instead of fulfilling: I am exhausted by conflict.” ~ Madeleine L’Engle

“It has been eleven days, Stephen, eleven fucking days! Eleven! The presidency is supposed to age the president, not the public.” ~ Jon Stewart

“This is a new year. A new beginning. And things will change.” ~ Taylor Swift

There’s a magpie hangin’ on the suet block, going at it. The seed feeder is empty, which means I totally neglected it yesterday, because it was empty when I got home from work Tuesday evening. Yeh, my bad. As a retail cashier I sell a lot of bird seed and stuff. Funny how all we wild bird fans refer to the critters at our feeders as “my birds”. I do it too, yet I have no illusions in that regard. It’s one of the social things, I suppose. Whatever the case, my birds don’t care one way or the other. I’d better stop here with that. I could so easily go to full cynic today. And I don’t want to. It’s that simple. They are not my birds. K? Thanks, yer a pal. Now, I turned 66 last Saturday. I have no illusions in that regard either. I am just exhausted, and noting that I am indeed 66 and I have been here for every blessed minute of it only makes me feel older. Yeh, I’ll get over it. Yet cranky is as cranky does. It’s in part the times. One of the things I’ve been doing is to use the indica as more than a tranquilizer and pain apathetic. It can be used as a tool to explore within the healing process, and lots of shit has been coming up for me. Poor me, right? Yeh, whatever. Healing, trauma, president, forest fire up yonder, sadness at the price of a good Italian dinner. Stuff like that. It’s all a jumble today. But I don’t hafta work; don’t hafta go into Taos at all today iffin it don’t please me none to do so. And it don’t. So I reckon I’ll take another layer of tension/pain off of my besieged neck bones and brain before the day is through. Believe you me, I could do a whole lotta moaning today. So, is 66 old? Yeh, some days it is and some days it ain’t, and some days it all becomes a simple matter of a good, solid WTF. Now that feels good!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Longing and the Goddess

“The struggle for a free intelligence has always been a struggle between the ironic and the literal mind.” ~ Christopher Hitchens

“The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.” ~ Orhan Pamuk

“To paraphrase Oedipus, Hamlet, Lear, and all those guys, “I wish I had known this some time ago.” ~ Roger Zelazny

The sunrise was sublime and now I am back at my desk, news of current events banging on my window frantically, good hot coffee at hand, and I friggin ran myself pert near clear out of time. Not only that – the cat is staring at me like I was wearing a yellowfin tuna as a necktie. Could be worse, I suppose. It’s a workday and the funny crew is onboard today. Laughter shall ensue. Humor heals. Laughter even more so. Now, going forward . . . I feel good this morning. Go figure. Yesterday I saw the woman who I do my best not to pine for. I succeed a good part of the time. Longing is a much healthier way to go, don’tcha know. The Celt blood in me knows that Longing is from the Goddess. Pining is more like Charlie Brown moping over the little red-haired girl. Anyway. Sweet inspiration is with me this morning, a Muse that I feel honored to host for the day. It makes me feel like all flowery and stuff – old Flower Child that I am. Face masks are an inhibitive feature of modern life, but sometimes masks just can’t even begin to hide a smile. We both managed to shine through the fabric yesterday. Yeh, I like her very much. How’s that for poetry? Sometimes a short declarative statement is better than poetry in getting the point across. Alas, I must shower and go to work now. Tally ho.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Sprite, Squirrel, and Philosopher

“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

“When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Can’t rightly say how I got to this point, but I’m opening today with a quote from Marcus Aurelius. Yeh, about fate. It’s fun to believe that some tasty bit of good Fate will come my way on this fine day. I’ve spent a good part of the last 30 years in the grips of such belief that would be longing. Whatever. I’ll see what it is when it gets here. Or not. It’s a workday, with me having an odd combination of characters lurking: Robin Goodfellow, Rocky the Flying Squirrel, and Ludwig Wittgenstein. Don’t ask. Suffice it to say that Brother Wittgenstein is traveling in good company today. As am I. As am I. Ciao.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Whispering Cold Morning Gossips About Winter

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“When we look deeply and honestly at our own suffering, energies, and views, we find a peace that comes from being comfortable in our own bodies. But our true home is not only inside us. Once we have become comfortable in ourselves, then we can begin listening deeply to the suffering of our loved ones, and begin understanding their experiences and views. Then we can become a true home for each other.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“Always remember that it is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood: there will always be some who misunderstand you.” ~ Karl Popper

It’s been nice taking a little break from EyeYotee; not on purpose, mind you, it just kinda sorta happened. Those mornings when there’s enough peace in my heart to just sit. Those mornings when the whispering cold morning gossips about the approach of Winter. Those mornings when the coffee is bitter and dark, all heat and the implication of sweetness. It’s a pinball day, all bumps and angles, buzzers and bells. I could go from existential to panpsychism, to caprice from whimsy. In the timeless wisdom of Morla the turtle from “The Neverending Story”: “Not that it matters”. Of corse Atreyu ends up, out of exasperation, shouting “If it doesn’t matter, why can’t you tell me?!”. Poor kid expects some kind of rhetorical justice. Ummmm – no, wait – boy howdy, so do I! But it’s laundry day, so this can all wait. I’m feeling kinda sorta musical today. Music is as much a part of my heart as Mother Ocean is a part of my soul. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I intend to. No worries, I have a pipe of my own.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Whispering Cold Morning Gossips About Winter

“When we look deeply and honestly at our own suffering, energies, and views, we find a peace that comes from being comfortable in our own bodies. But our true home is not only inside us. Once we have become comfortable in ourselves, then we can begin listening deeply to the suffering of our loved ones, and begin understanding their experiences and views. Then we can become a true home for each other.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“Always remember that it is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood: there will always be some who misunderstand you.” ~ Karl Popper

It’s been nice taking a little break from EyeYotee; not on purpose, mind you, it just kinda sorta happened. Those mornings when there’s enough peace in my heart to just sit. Those mornings when the whispering cold morning gossips about the approach of Winter. Those mornings when the coffee is bitter and dark, all heat and the implication of sweetness. It’s a pinball day, all bumps and angles, buzzers and bells. I could go from existential to panpsychism, to caprice from whimsy. In the timeless wisdom of Morla the turtle from “The Neverending Story”: “Not that it matters”. Of corse Atreyu ends up, out of exasperation, shouting “If it doesn’t matter, why can’t you tell me?!”. Poor kid expects some kind of rhetorical justice. Ummmm – no, wait – boy howdy, so do I! But it’s laundry day, so this can all wait. I’m feeling kinda sorta musical today. Music is as much a part of my heart as Mother Ocean is a part of my soul. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I intend to. No worries, I have a pipe of my own.

Peace out, y’ll. Goof gloriously.

The Difference Between Naming and Knowing

“Come quickly. You mustn’t miss the dawn. It will never be just like this again.” ~ Georgia O’Keefe

“Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern.” ~ Oscar Wilde

“He got out of bed and peeped through the blinds. To the east and opposite to him gardens and an apple-orchard lay, and there in strange liquid tranquility hung the morning star, and rose, rilling into the dusk of night the first grey of dawn. The street beneath its autumn leaves was vacant, charmed, deserted.” ~ Walter de la Mare

There is something poetic about the dawn, so much so that the absence of a human poet is moot, yet somehow needed. It’s all about beauty, peace, and sweetness, for me today. The white-crowned sparrows feeding on the ground beneath the apple tree. The chickade-de-de flitting in and out. And then the topper – the first downy woodpecker of the season! Have you seen these critters? Wow. Such stunning beauty. Beyond words, and I want to keep it that way. Ciao.

“You can know the name of a bird in all the languages of the world, but when you’re finished, you’ll know absolutely nothing whatever about the bird… So let’s look at the bird and see what it’s doing — that’s what counts. I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something.”

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Those Days Are Still Underway

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“The magic of each day lives in the unknown. It’s waking up as one person, and accepting that when night falls, we may be someone else entirely. So, when you ask what my story is, forgive me—-I’m not quite sure yet.” ~ J. Raymond

“The traumatic moment becomes encoded in an abnormal form of memory, which breaks spontaneously into consciousness, both as flashbacks during waking states and as traumatic nightmares during sleep. Small, seemingly insignificant reminders can also evoke these memories, which often return with all the vividness and emotional force of the original event. Thus, even normally safe environments may come to feel dangerous, for the survivor can never be assured that she will not encounter some reminder of the trauma.” ~ Judith Lewis Herman

Quiet Saturday morning; the dark hours of morning have been peaceful; none of that dark anxiety that so often wafts through these early hours. The three days off are past. I started to say that the days are over, but I don’t see time that way. It’s been forty years since I have. Simultaneous time. Yesterday and the day before are not gone. There is nowhere to go anyway. Those days are still underway. So many different sages, masters, and trade paperback books admonish us to ‘live in the moment’. As if, right? ‘The moment is timeless’, they say. I’d best get off of this topic before I piss someone off. I know I have before, and if my hypothetical musings are correct – they still are pissed off. Just chill. K? I don’t claim to be right about this. Besides, when you get to the quantum level there is no right or wrong. At least that’s how I see it. Joni Mitchell’s circle game. The Great Wheel of Time, the Oran Mor. Geez, those Celts are so cool! But it’s in my blood so I may be prejudiced. The Wheel of Time is approaching zero point. The time of year when the Old God is finally dead, only to be reborn in a couple of months. The Day of the Dead. Halloween. Samhain (Sow-wen). I don’t mean to be a know it all. Sometimes I just can’t help it. Stuff slips out. But, alas, I really must be off to my day. I’m sure you have noticed by now that the world has gone bugfuck. Think of it as a transformation, a transcendence. I do. It’s hard to stay hopeful. Yes.

All is well. Goof gloriously.

That Hopeful Look That Comes Before Demands

“Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.” ~ E. B. White

“Normally, in anything I do, I’m fairly miserable. I do it, and I get grumpy because there is a huge, vast gulf, this aching disparity, between the platonic ideal of the project that was living in my head, and the small, sad, wizened, shaking, squeaking thing that I actually produce.” ~ Neil Gaiman

“If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act—truth is always subversive.” ~ Anne Lamott

How can I call myself a writer when I don’t write everyday anymore? Simply because I am? Yeh, let’s run with that. I haven’t time for clarification. Sigh. I’m trying to be goofy and it ain’t comin’ out right. The morning light has that sickly orange hue to it that has been all too frequent lately. Sickly orange? Could I be talking about the preznit? Yeh, maybe. It fits. I just heard a minute squeak a few seconds ago. Cat! Staring at me with that hopeful look that comes before the demands, in regards to breakfast for cats. She has settled back into a catnap for now. The Sun is cresting the ridges down Pueblo Canyon. Guess I’ll hafta settle for the Clear Light today, ’cause ain’t nothin’ clear ’bout the sunlight. Regardless, I do feel some perky wonder and optimism in me somewhere. Let’s run with that. Ciao.

All is well. Goof gloriously.

The Day of the Pretzel Fast

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“Imagine the people who believe such things and who are not ashamed to ignore, totally, all the patient findings of thinking minds through all the centuries since the Bible was written. And it is these ignorant people, the most uneducated, the most unimaginative, the most unthinking among us, who would make themselves the guides and leaders of us all; who would force their feeble and childish beliefs on us; who would invade our schools and libraries and homes. I personally resent it bitterly.” ~ Isaac Asimov

“Our ignorance can be divided into problems and mysteries. When we face a problem, we may not know its solution, but we have insight, increasing knowledge, and an inkling of what we are looking for. When we face a mystery, however, we can only stare in wonder and bewilderment, not knowing what an explanation would even look like.” ~ Noam Chomsky

“We live on an island surrounded by a sea of ignorance. As our island of knowledge grows, so does the shore of our ignorance.” ~ John Archibald Wheeler

There is a serious lapse here – it is 8:30 AM and I’ve made no coffee yet. It’s a sin, I tell you. A sin! Nah, just logey from an eleven hour sleep, and there’s no pressing need to be alert as of yet. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Life and world, these are tough times. The morning is still and distinctly quiet. This is Wednesday, my “pretzel fast” day. It’s a traditional German thing that I made up recently. Shoulder brace, neck brace, a moderate amount of IPA, Rold Gold, indica. A visit to Arroyo Hondo to procure said supplies. Netflix, cat, lap – all the usual suspects. I’m finding great comfort in habit (routine, whatever) these days. Just thought I’d stick in a little blog post as well.

All is well. Goof gloriously.