Uh oh. I’m late for a very important date. Has it happened before? Yes, daily. Contemplate that, if you will. I’m tired of contemplation, of taking hold of mind flow, and of taking when I am giving naught. That happens daily as well. Mind flow is to be fed, not harvested. So says my muse, who may be imaginal rather than real, but I cannot go the prejudicial route this morning; everyone has a right to exist, so the muse stays. Don’t tell me otherwise. I won’t have it. I just won’t.

IMG_5455 - 2009-06-04 at 08-04-43

I’ve been chatting with beautiful young women, young enough to be my granddaughters. Is that allowed? I work with these people, and I have come to learn that everything they say may not be intended to be taken literally. There are aphorisms in their vernacular. It throws me, but they smile brightly, adorned with hardware embedded in their faces, so I go like yeah, oh dude, and marvel at beauty that has yet to mature, or so I assume, expressing so in a run-on sentence, whence I risk being clobbered by my seventh grade English teacher, Ms. Riddle (no, really!), who used to sing, “who will buy this wonderful morning? . . .” spontaneously during class. WTF. http://youtu.be/JD8WqLi4Eew

Your pardon I request, for I have already diverged from today’s theme – flow. I am incommunicado this morning. The ringer on my cell phone is set on medium-low, but I likely will answer any call, if I answer at all, with, “dude, not now, I’ve been around for six decades, so I’m taking a short time out”. By noon I should be crawling back out of my whole(sic). It’s the place I go when I wish to shorten my reach and expand my perspective. Try it, you’ll like it.

Marilyn Bauer PhD, a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, used to give me psychotherapy. Her field was Human Growth and Development but her major interest was in Flow Psychology, back in the early 90’s. I have no idea where Flow went, but I see it daily. It’s probably in the classroom, but I wouldn’t know a classroom from Adam, at this point in my life.


Perhaps I have gone bananas? A tropical lad like me can go there easily. In my teens I came to know that banana trees can grow some 18 inches overnight. Don’t try that at home, K? People have, and they have become media stars, for which their mere presence in and on the internet friggin nails their form to the medial wall and they must nurture said exposure in lieu of whatever loss may be incurred by not doing so. Does that confuse you? Me too. C’est la vie, non?

I’m up for an early nap and then who knows what. I’ve scoured all sources. The narrow nature of my scouring shines above that which has been scoured. My shine is relegated unto the shine of All That Is. I’m not ready for that. It comes anyway. I’m going to take a nap anyway. Awake or asleep I can make the world a better place, and the spirits sing heartily, “Your dreams are our dreams, your dreams are ours dreams, listen and look, listen and look, oh dude.”

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.









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