“Life in itself is sufficient, self-explanatory and complete.” ~ Carlos Castenada
It snowed overnight, not much, but this weather, in late April, comes as a welcome friend comes. Have you noticed yet that I sometimes chop up my sentences with numerous commas? Keep with me and I will do it again. On that you may rely.
I’ve been gainfully employed at our local animal shelter for two weeks now. Do I like it? Actually, I love it. Cleaning dog kennels is remarkably unpleasant but the results are good and the service to the dogs is rewarding in that they get a clean and cared for place to live while they are there. It feels good to be a part of it. Feeling good is a nice tool for a depressive such as myself. The opening photo is of – oh, dang it, I forget his name – but the look on his face shows you that he feels good too. There is some mysterious level of joy exposed by seeing animals in captivity display happiness, and often.
Working with the crew is also a ‘feel good’ thing. All are welcomed as family and that seems to be an ongoing dynamic. I especially like working with the younger women who are like all friendly and stuff. Like yeah. I feel it is always a good idea to mingle with youngsters, and to listen to them. Like all happy. There is the temptation to analogize between the captive, sheltered animals and low wage workers, but I’m pretty sure that has been done before, and often.
Yesterday’s post strayed into philosophical territory. Strayed? Like a stray dog? Get it? Oh, I crack myself up sometimes! But seriously – when I look at it all, all of this animal shelter stuff, I can see it on a macro level in which everyone, both humans and animals, are employed at the shelter, and that such employment, in such an enterprise, in these harrowing times, furthers our quest to make the world a better place. About that, I’d just like to say, y’all keep it up now, k?
“enemy anger impotent gun grease
too many thoughts
too dogshit tired
one small step for freedom
from foregone conclusion” ~ Bruce Cockburn
This morning’s sky shines gray, with silver splotches, clouds coming in from the west, sliding through cold air, and it calms me in a way that I would feel hard-pressed to describe, so I won’t. But I just did. I just took my meds, the anti depressant, the anxiety meds, both designed to lessen the chance of seizures, but they clearly do other things as well. Third cup of coffee at my side, on the desk. Cat sleeping on the bed, on my other side, and in her sleep she farts once in a while, giving me a start. These details of a writer’s morning routine, which especially includes pecking out words on an electronic keyboard, are nothing special in themselves. They lay the foundation for meaning. Much good can be built upon such a foundation. I think of Terence McKenna’s description of time flowing over a topographical landscape comprised of hills and valleys. For me that suggests that we are not living within time, we are moved by time, jostled by it’s eddies, swept swiftly by undertows, and sometimes carried softly onto the beaches of some warm places.
My time is up, kids. My work day calls. I must respond by getting there on time. Yesterday I got so immersed in what I was writing that I thought I was going to arrive late for work. I left the house with fifteen minutes to work with. The shelter is a 20 minutes drive from here. I did not exceed the speed limit, rather I appealed to whatever gods or goddess who had time for a working class fella like me, and asked them to help me bend time, just a tad, so that I could arrive on time, when I did not have enough time to do so. I clocked in right at eight o’clock, right on time. How do you like that?! It’s like all groovy and stuff. Hey! Did you notice what I just did with that last sentence? I connected the youth of one decade with the youth of a decade 50 years later, with just a simple sentence, using the vernacular and proper structure at the same time. Such a method reveals power, my friends. Either don’t try this at home or make yourself at home where ever you are. I prefer the latter. How about you?
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.
“You get bigger as you go
News reruns — dawn comes rainbow
Pain takes shape of grimy window
You get bigger as you go” ~ Bruce Cockburn