Wincing In Slow Motion

Sunny 005 (1)

“How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it a leg.” ~ Abraham Lincoln

“But when you shake the hand that shakes the world, look that power in the face and do not tremble” ~ Julian Brave NoiseCat

The air is close and intimate this morning, at 19º F and 79% humidity it nearly made me want to hightail it back inside, but I endured the deep cold without my winter coat. I do so love being exposed to the morning elements. It helps me begin my day with a feeling of connectedness with the world, a feeling that is quite simply my birthright as a sentient being in the vast and intricate web of life. Don’t even bring up the idea of human superiority, I’ve not yet started on my third cup of coffee. But wait, if Starbucks is the gateway to the rat race I am like so out of here. Don’t even go there. It is peace I crave. As a chronic depressive I sometimes sense, wrongfully, that inner peace is kept as a trophy on the mantlepiece in a very nice home down the road. I’m just that cynical when I’m in a bipolar down cycle.  At such times I can look at a can of Red Bull and I am like totally bummed. If only I could, I might work at a brisker pace, I might feel more communion with the friggin tailgater behind me on the drive in to work, but the Bullish concoction makes my kidneys shout. I admit to being in a down cycle right now. There’s been a lot of that lately, and the highs, when they come, are relatively fleeting. I can go through a whole day just hoping that no one will see the introspective grimaces I let slip out and wonder what ache it is that has me wincing in slow motion. It’s just a heartache, nothing but a heartache. But enough about that.

Our opening photo today, here at the EyeYotee blog, is of the same fellow you saw in Saturday’s post, except this photo was taken after the cat, Sunny, showed me his Jim Carey impersonation. Guy’s a hoot. Sunny came in to the animal shelter with a broken femur, thus the cast on his leg. He’s taking his convalescence very well. He’s a total sweetheart. Somebody has already expressed interest in taking him home. It will have to wait until he heals more and it will take the doctor’s approval as well. Sunny is worth waiting for. Until then he will get copious lap time from both crew and volunteers.

I’ve got a full-blown spiritual transformation happening. My intellect is enthralled with this transformation. I’m not sure that excitement is in order but excitement is what I have right now. Sure, I like to think about this stuff. I’ve studied consciousness for three decades now, ever since I had the NDE that simply and surely blasted away the lingering debris of my former life. In the days then months after the bicycle accident that triggered the NDE I was soothed only by reading, and most of that reading was aimed toward finding even one morsel of understanding that might give me insight toward the instantaneous shift that I had endured. That shift was the easy part. Integrating my new worldview into my life was the hard part. I may have reported before that my major literary benefactor was Carlos Castenada. He provided me with images of transformation that were just strange enough to be useful to me. I was one out there guy in those days. He taught me to perceive new dreams, new realities, and new vision. If life is but a dream I had me a new dream foist upon my lap and danged if it didn’t come complete with a magical mystery tour, a mystical voyage that showed me cosmic stuff then turned me back around and flung me right back into a life that was now chock full of WTFs. I walk that world to this day. The WTFs have diminished in number, thankfully. Today’s transformation has been under way for several weeks now. I recognized the process only a short time ago. But such talk as this is now being ended for the time being. My morning psych meds are kicking in and the third cup of coffee is ready to drink. I’ve got a shower to take and maybe four inches of snow to shovel, to create a clear path out to the chicken coop. Somehow I got the Oscar the turkey to enter the coup yesterday morning, so I was able to secure all of the birds within the shelter. Oscar roosts on top of the shelter, overseeing his flock, and the young rooster knows full well who rules the roost. I’ll not let them out to roam in this weather. I, however, must. I’ve got many friends in cat form to whom I must provide care. Lucky me. I love them furry folks!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

 

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