IMG_0863 copy - 2009-09-05 at 07-07-42

Now where are you out in the world
Searching for a little grace
Searching for a precious pearl
Wisdom from some future place. ~ Mary Chapin Carpenter

It’s 32F degrees and I am lovin’ it already. It’s not so much the cold, it’s about the change. I mean, it’s always about change, right? Change is the only constant, right? Yeah, that’ll do. I’m down with that. And then I question that, and everything else. I’m like that, you see. Questions are lodestars to me. Change is always there, waiting for you to grab hold and fly. Why I’ve not done that lately is a mystery to savor. Two days off in a row will set work related questions aside, then I can see if new dreams will arise, dreams of purpose, dreams of fulfillment. I feel that gratitude oughtta maybe be gathered right at the starting gate, reckon? Using some of the spiritual technology I have learned through the years? That’s what I’m sayin’.

I have a counseling session this morning. We will address the trauma in my life, the serious stuff that is looming over me at any given time, subroutines that snarl then bite, shiftless forces that need a swift kick in the ass to get them going again, for they are anchors for a boat that needs to move instead of just floating, rudderless at first, because of the stasis, then given purpose, and hope, and transparency, the boat will move, mostly on course, even if the course is a mystery. I love a good mystery. I think maybe I got that boat metaphor from reading about how researchers have recently acquired strong evidence that it was Marco Polo who first put a European foot upon North American soil, yonder in Washington state, 300 years before that scoundrel Christopher Columbus came here. They found a sheepskin map, attributed to Polo, and the map is startlingly similar to the coastline of Alaska. It was friggin Seattle where he landed up. I figure he was looking for a cup of good coffee. But I can milk the metaphor a bit more. Our memories are not necessarily accurate. Where memory significantly fails to put out we can and do easily provide another that covers for the blank created by this failure. Things just ain’t what they seem. Some folks, many folks, do just fine as they sail through life, storms or not, because they have a viable version of stability. Not me. I’m stuck on the rocks these days, these many days, and months, and I want the stasis to be over. Bring on the hope, I’m ready to sail. Of course I am talking about some of the many roots of depression. I feel it today, strongly, and it is a bipolar high, rather than a low, and this high is way uncomfortable. Think nervousness on steroids. Think I’ll pop some  gabapentin right now.

It’s just about sunrise. The air temperature is down below freezing. That means a lot to me. The tide is turning. Right on.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

 

 

 

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