Kiss and Say Thank You

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“The number of things he thought of saying all at once nearly suffocated him.”  ~  C. S. Lewis

Tired, tired. Maybe a bit underfed. When the weekly budget starts to shrivel like a prune, and belt-tightening becomes the exercise regimen, and dirty laundry lays unattended because what’s the use, it all comes together, then you know that someone is now better off and it ain’t you. Bear in mind that I have bipolar (2) depression and PTSD, and neither one is especially worthy of consideration unless triggered, at which point, boy howdy get a reign on that horse before some poor dog gets head kicked. The dog in our opening photo here at EyeYotee blog is Ollie, a healer/Australian cattle dog mix. Ollie is long gone. I watched her go as she died on my lap from euthanasia; an honor, to be sure. The lap thing was suggested by the lady vet because she thought the dog had simply had enough and carrying her into the building then back out was unnecessary. I concurred. The dog was old, she had become incontinent, but her grand goofy smile never faded. I buried her in a grave I’d dug back in Autumn, just in case she died during winter, when the ground would not be open to shovel activity. I’d piled up the stones and dirt so that they would hang loose, enough so that, when frozen, refilling the hole would be as easy as possible. Ollie died in Spring. I think the reason that Ollie came to mind this morning is because of the newest controversy at the animal shelter. I mean, I picked the photo last night, because it kinda sorta reminded me of me these days. Tired, tired. The deeper significance only came to me just now, as a gift from my perky Muse. I’m pretty sure that all animal shelters run up against the kill/low kill/no kill controversy at some time or another. It’s an important issue. I have personally attended four euthanasia sessions; three cats and one dog. All needed to go. There was no denying that. What changed my life during the first cat’s journey onward was something the veterinarian, Dr. Aversa, did that surprised the bejeezus out of me, yet his action clearly and immediately, like that proverbial bolt from the blue, stitched heaven and earth together for me. Philosophy aside, it all now made sense. A simple and touching action, the vet leaned over, kissed the animal, and said thank you. Imagine if when God takes us, He, She, whatever, kisses us and says thank you. How could it be otherwise? Even though I no longer work at the shelter I still hold to the outlook that came to me through inspiration that day. Some animals end up being warehoused when no adoption comes, for months and then years. I feel that these animals should be kissed and thanked before dominion becomes crueltyEuthanasia for the purpose of creating space in the face of over-capacity intake? I’ll not go into that here. No debates please. This is a blog, not a public forum.

Whew. I’m glad that paragraph is over. I’m tired enough as it is, and writing about heavy topics can wring you out just as sure as a pick and shovel can. So, my tasks today consists of laundry and then the ramada that needs weatherproofing yonder at my ex’s house. Stopgaps will be just the thing until unemployment payments start appearing in my checking account, which won’t be for two weeks, or until I find a new job. I told the Operations Manager at the shelter that I very much want to return to work there. Dude I’ll be all sad and stuff without them cats in my life dude. But I ain’t holding’ my breath dude. I do enough of that as it is. What’s the sense in that, right?

Sunrise is well underway now. I just heard some covert songbird sing briefly outside the window. The deep blue of early morning is lightening up. Say, what’s with the covert thing anyway? I guess with birds it is a matter of survival at times. But covert people friggin piss me off. Spies, detractors, and folks of that ilk, they surpass the bounds of decency when transparency is the obvious and healthy choice. On a different note, and speaking of healthy choice, have y’all ever tried one of them Healthy Choice frozen dinners? They are inexpensive but they aren’t much good at filling your stomach. There are better and more economic ways. This applies to many other things in life as well. Regardless, I hope to work with animals again. I might go volunteer on occasion but that is a far cry from getting down and dirty while playing an integral working part in the community, in the economy. I used to do that 36 hours a week. Damn it, I miss that already. Say, by the way – do you think folks really eat frozen meals? Of course not. They heat ’em up first.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Cognition Hits the Wall

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“All good art cannot help but confront denial on its way to truth.”   ~ Pete Townsend

Just 20 minutes ago the turkey, the cat, and the rooster, were all yelling at me. Finally some relief. The morning is muggy and a rumpled cloud ceiling paints moist gray across this canvas of a day. The canvas was looking pretty blank there for a day or two, so I cannot complain, now that I have a metaphor to play with, and I don’t even mind that I get a tad meta in doing so. It’s one of life’s little pleasures. Now, I ask myself what’s up for the day dude. There’s a psychiatrist appointment a 10 AM. It’s always a pleasure to see the pretty doctor lady, but she is retiring from the clinic so this will be that last time, and I am righteously bummed about that. Next comes, most likely, the laundromat. Regular readers here at EyeYotee should know that I always enjoy the laundromat. It’s a low-grade spiritual experience for me. Another of life’s little pleasures. Keep ’em coming. That’s what I say. Yesterday was quite a day. It began with a trip to the Unemployment office. Boy howdy I was wishing it was not so damned necessary! You can quote me on that. The young Spanish fella there was real nice. In my honor he proceeded to bury me in details and explanations. It got to the point where I couldn’t take any more in, because my cognition hit the wall, so I let them go into whatever receptacle that serves as an overflow emergency device of the mind. Because my cognition has seemed so unreliable lately I can always fall back on my cultivated ability to reconstruct, recapitulate, whatever, the details by squeezing my memory a little bit, and it all comes back out, in a sweet semblance of accuracy. That method is powerfully facilitated by my inborn prowess at pattern recognition. Oh wait, I just used the word “powerfully” in a sentence. That reminds me of Gregg Braden, who’s name came up over lunch. Gregg’s a hoot. Read one of his books and you will see that there is no dearth in his usage of the word “powerful”. Friggin guy rocks. Go see one of his talks. He’s a witty and thoughtful guy. But it’s not time for the lunch thing yet. I was still at the Unemployment office. The young fella then coached me through, after walking me through, creating my own file in/on the database, then doing the ‘one click’ thing to submit my application, which was accepted. Sweet. I wasn’t feeling so well, so I needed a younger man to walk me through, as if I were crossing the street through traffic, or some other infernal thing like that. Subsistence income is now at my disposal. Ya gotta love it. I just hope that no Republicans catch wind of this. I’d hate to have to go off on one of them guys. Maybe Ann Coulter? I could do one of those Three Stooges nose twisting moves. Oh, a wise guy eh  .  .  .

I had lunch at the Diner with Debra Diamond, an author and NDE researcher, who’s book Life After Near Death comes out in January of next year (yes, this is a plug, strictly my decision to do so). She being a researcher and me being an experiencer, it made for some fascinating conversation. Plus, she is excellent company. Two hours later we exited the Diner and went our separate ways. I greatly enjoyed the meal and the chat.

Not to be all whiny but I have not felt well since the animal shelter closed its doors. It’s not being jobless, it’s the shock from such a tumultuous action. I mean like whoomph dude. Why’d ya hafta go and do that? But I decided to barely mention that controversy in today’s blog. I mean a guy doesn’t want to beat a dead horse, does he. OMG! That was a poor choice of idioms. My bad. Now, I haven’t got much else to say except that I am really enjoying the cooing of the mourning dove outside the window. For now I’m going to go all Wally Cleaver on y’all and say “Gee, mister. Can I have my job back? Gee thanks mister”.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


The Rainbow and the Stress-related Seizures


“I think the mystery of art lies in this, that artists’ relationship is essentially with their work — not with power, not with profit, not with themselves, not even with their audience.”  ~  Ursula K. Le Guin

I just had to close the window against the shrill and bold crows of that friggin rooster, Ken Winslow. That’s actually pretty much his job, so I can’t fault him for it, and that kind of boldness is not uncommon among the males of many species, so closing the window is about all I can do. Having done so I will now sip my coffee, at a rate which can not be called moderate, and wonder what will come as I write this post. I never have an outline for these things, these posts. Sometimes I have some direction or some issue du jour, but planning ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I suppose I can start with the rainbow. I went down to Kit Carson Park last evening, to attend a rally for the animal shelter where I used to work. Heard tell, while I was there, that I might be offered my job back. Cool. Nobody made mention of that outside of rumors, nobody in an official capacity said anything about it. There is a high probability that I would accept an offer to return, and if so I would hope my chances of being chosen in this manner would not be influenced by what I write here. If so, who could fault them, but I would serve them well, as an organization requires. It is quite an emotional issue, all said. I don’t want to lose what is so dear to me. One woman, one of the shelter’s dog volunteers, said that I have a magical way with the cats. High compliment that. I neglected to say that I find that magic is about the only effective way to get through to those friggin adversarial beasts. Try sweeping out a communal cage with a tabby or a tuxedo cat leaning into your broom and you will see what I mean. No really, go try it. They need the help, since all of us gainfully employed crew members have gone elsewhere, and for good reason. The shelter needs the help and the cats are lonely. Now, back to the rainbow. No wait, not yet. There was one point at which the preponderance of the audience, who were scattered loosely in front of the amphitheater stage, standing on grass green from ample rain, moved up close to the stage, many even hopping up onto the stage. It was raining, light and pretty, and they apparently did not want to get wet. I was standing with a friend and neither of us moved. T’were but but a sprinkle. So my friend and I remained as the only ones out on the open green. The mist felt good. Now, my friend has been and is a vocal advocate for shelter animals, and she has a rather harsh reputation for her approach to the issues at hand. The animals need such passionate advocates. Granted, she can be very hard to work with. I only had one serious run-in with her, one time when she pushed my anxiety level smack into the red line. The then Director took the role of peacemaker and smoothed the tension, then she, the Director, went into the cat intake area and helped me to finish up cleaning the messy shitty kennels. I was impressed, and she was pleasant company for me and the cats. A calm sincere demeanor makes all the difference when working with cats. Like dude they know when you are all tense and gnarly from displaced attention and they are pretty much fuck you dude. Cats deserve better, especially when incarcerated. Anyway, I am certain that my proximity with my friend, as the only folks out in the field, will make for some serious gossip. Whatever. She is my friend, I love her, we have much in common, and I am idealistic in my belief that a person should be evaluated for their own merits, not those of  .  .  .  oh, never mind. I just hope I don’t get judged by the company I keep. Or for what I express in a blog with a sparse audience. C’est la vie, non?

Hmmm, I bet you are wondering when I am going to get to the rainbow, right? I left the rally before it was over. There was no reason other than it was gettin’ on toward sunset and I hate driving in the dark. On my way home I stopped at the new convenience store and purchased two pints of Torpedo ale. I needed a drink after the rally. I had tried to keep a positive attitude but my emotions got the better of me. The rainbow fixed that some, that rainbow which had unfolded from the rain while I was in buying ale. But I wanted my job back and that had colored my attitude regardless of my efforts. Yup, it was bitterness. And, somewhat, also fear at the prospect of having been in the presence of a controversial friend, and that said presence would irrevocably harm my chances at getting it back, if the shelter should decide to return the crew to it’s former status. And to that issue I can only say hey, peeps, she’s just a friend. Get over it.  On that note we will wrap-up this post. Maybe the town and county and animal shelter will all come together and repair the damage before it goes too far, which it very well might. Go too far, that is. They struggle at the brink as it is. That ain’t gonna do a fucking bit of good. Seventeen of us took the first shot in the battle. I resent that, but it doesn’t make me a bad person to say so. Dude like chill dude before them kitty cats get all riled. Oh, oh, oh  .  .  .  the cat in the opening photo is Lucas the Great. I call him “the great”. Lucas is a special needs cat. He has seizure issues. Doc Heather says they are stress-related seizures, if you catch my drift. Please do.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

And Now a Different Brand of Bitterness


“I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”  ~  J. R. R. Tolkien

I used to work  .  .  .  no, wait. Before I start, all y’all who came to see if I will write something bad? Just go away. Just go. Now. No, wait. First leave a note in the ‘comments’ section of this post, Identifying yourself. Thanks. Don’t be shy. I want to know who you are. The rest of y’all are gladly welcome to read today’s post. Thanks, yer a pal. Now, I used to work in an animal shelter, taking care of cats. I will miss that sorely. Of course I have a cat at home. I will still be able to clean her litter box, but it won’t be the same. Truth be told it ain’t heavy enough. There is a lot more shit at the shelter, but it won’t be mine to carry anymore. Poor me. Yes, I feel bitterness unlike any I have felt before. This time it’s about cats. And cats are special, so this is a different brand of bitterness and it will go a long way. Working with cats has been an honor, a truly high point in my life. Before working with cats I had achieved three goals in my life, and I knew in my heart that my whole life had been fulfilled. All of it. I didn’t have anything important to do, not anymore. I could coast. So, what are those three things? First, I found true love, I found my soulmate. She died back in ‘ 95, in her second fatal car crash. She actually survived the first one, and it was a true miracle that she did so. I choose to believe that she survived so that she and I could take the friendship to the level of destiny. But the second one killed her. Some destiny, right? The second thing was that I wrote and published a book, at the behest of a discarnate Being of Light. It sure was fun meeting her, that being! Boy howdy was it ever. Dude it was like righteous dude. The third was helping my mother die. That scarred me forever but it was the most important and the hardest thing I have ever done. And ever will. Ever. I could also include working with truly tropical tree trimmers, for Family Tree Landscaping and Tree Service, under the employ of the amazing, and now dead, Jeff Eckblom. But that was just a job. That had supreme value because it was so friggin fun, and I was deeply tanned and totally buff. Sorry girls I ain’t that way anymore, but I still have a nice personality. Now, about this other job  .  .  .  it was, as they say, all about the animals. From that I can conclude that I got laid off because of the animals. How friggin bizarre is that, right? The logic of my conclusion is rock solid so don’t even try it, k. You will not win this argument. There were actually 17 of us that got laid off yesterday, 7/27/2015. It is so fucking sad. Not to mention that I am shaking like an Aspen leaf, from the Bipolar 2 and PTSD disorders I bear. Big shocks do that to me, damn it. I am still in shock today, and I don’t care how long it lasts. Unemployment sucks. Unemployment payments do not. A few months ago, when my hours at the shelter got legitimately cut I complained to the shelter director. He castigated me for my having posted about it on Facebook and in this here blog. I had already deleted those posts before he rose unto castigation. He then said that I had maybe cast the shelter in a bad light. Yeah maybe I did. But this time I need not flirt with guilt and shame. This time they did it to themselves. This is two friggin Summers in a row that there has been big controversy at the shelter. Ain’t that fucking enough peeps? I mean, really? Really>! And one last note before I move on to the next paragraph  .  .  .  dude I know yer still reading dude. So I will publicly admit that I am still friends with the former Executive Director, and with that Vet fella that got metaphorically crucified.


That’s Scraggly in the photo. He was the only cat I hugged yesterday before I left. I would have hugged Lucas as well but he is not into that. Head to head I gave Scraggs some healing energy, and he gave me some as well. Sweet and generous guy, that cat. Now if you will excuse me I have to go into town to buy some new reading glasses. I lost the old ones last night due to too much beer, which was actually just enough. I’m typing this post with my prescription glasses. I ain’t seein’ too clearly this morning. One last note: to my former boss – you do a great job, ma’am, and I still love you kiddo. I know we had our differences. So what, right? Whatever.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Pretty Basic Stuff


“A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.”  ~  Stephan King

There was a little rain last night, and the clouds linger this morning, soft as down, soft as tinder down, silently kindling yet another brilliant Summer day. I’m ready. It’s about yesterday, when I baked myself atop an eight foot tall ramada, where I was applying weatherproofing caustic chemicals to much too dry wood, and money was why. I’m sayin’ it was hot up there, the work went slow, and the whole endeavor simply smacked of dizziness held at bay. I took a shower after that, drank a pint of Paddington ale, and generally otherwise prepared myself to go back out into the day, leaving my hermitage against my daft desires. Yeh verily I  .  .  .  wait just a danged minute here. I think the writing here is slipping up and over the top. My bad. I’ve gotta watch that kind of stuff. I’ve got to think of the reader, keeping it simple, using rhythm and grace to raise the issues at hand in the prose up to comprehensible levels. Yeah, right. Dude like just write and stuff, k?

I went to see and hear Debra Diamond speak yesterday, at the Old County Courthouse, a qui en Taos. Debra has written a book, Life After Near Death, which will be released in late January of 2016. The book examines cognitive and physiological after-effects from NDEs, and the transformation of the experiencers’ lives that accompanies these effects. Heady stuff. There are 12 case studies in the book and one of them is me. Imagine that. A brief passage in The Wisdom of Near Death Experiences, by Dr. Penny Sartori, was the first published acknowledgment of my NDE back in ’84. Debra’s will be the second. My own book doesn’t count because of course I mentioned myself. It’s hard not to in an autobiography. Silliness aside. I want to mention here exactly how this came about, how Debra and I made our connection. Debra in a psychic medium. She became interested in the after effects from NDEs from the standpoint of scientific physiological and cognitive changes, and she was moved to write a book about it. She sought input from other researchers, one of them being Penny Sartori, who has a rare PhD in Near Death Studies. Penny referred Debra to me, gave her my website (now gone, sorry) address, and Debra went on to the site. There she saw my photo and realized that she knew me from my cashier gig at the upscale natural foods supermarket where I used work. Debra was at her home on the east coast while she was doing this research but she used to live here in Taos. Synchronicity is the dangdest thing, right? She contacted a leading NDE researcher in Wales, UK, who referred her to me, and she knew me already. Weird. But this is a shiny example of just how large and mostly incomprehensible NDEs are. The implications that abound in NDE studies seem to reach for the stars. It’s that sort of scale we are talking about here. It’s not all about life after death any more than it is about life before death. It’s about energetics, and the information that gives guidance to energy. Energy is where it’s at. Information, ummm  .  .  .  well, it informs, it gives form to a level of being that lies beyond our normal senses. All y’all regular readers know how snarky I can get about “we are all connected” but it is true. And then, this all leads to consciousness, which is strongly suspected by researchers to exist outside the brain. We tune in, we get informed, and if we are so fortunate as to get a glimpse of what lies beyond our formal five senses we get enough awe-inspiring input to  .  .  .  hey, I’ve gotta go to work this morning, which is also a part of what I am on about here. I’ve got to shower, dress myself, get in my car, and drive down south side of town where I clean up after and play with cats. Yeah, I confer with them as well, upon matters of cosmic significance. Do you see what I am getting at here? What NDEs and their after-effects show is that – well it shows me – daily life is one part of the picture that should not be ignored. But there is much more out there. Many of us have seen it, and some of us want to share it with the world. Pretty basic stuff, right?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

From Drab to Vivid

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“Adventures are all very well in their place, but there’s a lot to be said for regular meals and freedom from pain.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

The mind feels young, the body feels nearly old. The feeling today, a Sunday, is lazy. My schedule is more active than I am comfortable with, but it will be done. It’s that old comfort zone thing; you have to stretch it once in a while or it gets brittle, then you get the stretch whether you want it or not.

That’s it for philosophy this morning. Or is it? I watched an old movie last night: “Finding Forrester”. Deeply inspirational, it is also thought-provoking. I highly recommend it, especially for writers. I need the inspiration lately. Things are getting too drab, and my writing suffers for it. Drabness sucks, especially when it is life that goes dull. Of course there is always the cats. They give inspiration in small doses. There is nothing drab about kittens. And yet, I had another of those all too rare encounters yesterday, with a person who captivated me, enchanted me, and when it was over I found myself with my right hand flat against my chest over my heart. That is how you know it is real. Curiously I did not want the stranger to leave, but I had work to do. Not a loss here, it was a gain. When you feel life force kick in and it kicks out the jams you’ve got yourself facing yourself. Something happens. Something plucks you rapidly out of the trance of regularity. Someone, a stranger, touched you on some level of richness and wonder. Yes, it was a woman, and yes she was powerfully beautiful, inside and out, and even if I never see her again I have grown. It’s a treasure. Treasuring yourself seems to be the key here. We deserve to feel our life force rising to a rare peak. Life force strikes love into being and the drabness vaporizes, and the vapors go to the head for a time. Held gently in an eye-lock she and I fumbled our words upon parting. “Yeah, sure, okay, ummm, bye”. Back and forth, as if from the same script, as if we both needed, struggled to find a way to move onto the rest of our respective days. It happened, we achieved the goal. I don’t know what she did but I move back into my work muttering “wow”, again and again. I want to see her again. She had lost her cat. Maybe.

That was a rather personal sharing, right? No problem. I don’t mind sharing intensity like this. A smile goes with it, of course. Smiles and laughter make the world softer and less tense. The world can use all of that we can muster. My hand laying flat over my heart is what made it all real. Otherwise it might have been just another chance meeting. I’m lucky. I found a gift and a treasure. Should I thank the Universe for that? The Goddess? Let’s just make it  .  .  .  the Three Fates? Providence? Serendipity? No need to choose nor designate in any way. It is what it is, right?  Yup. Boy howdy I’ve been gifted sweetly. Now let’s move on.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Comfort In Tradition

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“Be on guard. The road widens, and many of the detours are seductive.”  ~  David Foster Wallace

That sound is back. It wasn’t there when I first went out this morning. The stars were intense that first time, something that has been rare since this long-standing humidity hit town. I’ve reported that sound before in this blog. It mystified me then just as it does now, but I have not heard it for weeks. I don’t know why I have never thought of it before, but this morning it occurred to me that it is the Taos Hum. So I googled it and the descriptions of the Hum matched what I’ve been hearing. There’s no mystery solved here; I have no idea what I am hearing, besides the ringing of my own ears. At least the rooster is crowing. There is comfort in tradition.

The second cup of coffee is treating me well. It’s been fatigue, for weeks now. The sweet Nurse Practitioner I saw two days ago proffered sinusitis as a possible cause. Well, I’ve had it for two months now, so it seems. Her prescription of antibiotics seems to be hitting the mark. The sinuses are opening up. It feels good to feel good again. How’s that for a daffy sentence. Chill dude I just have to write whacky on occasion, k? One purpose of this blog is to play, so I do. On that note, I have recently had a 13 year old girl as a Friday volunteer at the cattery. She’s articulate and comes across like a 16-17 year old. Yesterday she asked me why I had a blog, so I told her it was all about play and practice. Or, more accurately so, I tried to tell her, but she insisted that I had told her that before, and kinda sorta pushed me away from the subject. I was shut down by a thirteen year old girl. Oh, did I mention that one of the major stressors in my life is now gone? That and antibiotics stand to give promise to whittling away at this fatigue stuff. But it is all interesting.

Lately I’ve been experiencing a childlike wonder at life. It is usually some material world thing but I have also been fascinated as to how the heck we developed a mind that seems to be unfit for what we have to work with in this material world. What is really feeding this question of unfit minds is the growing awareness of the relationship between law enforcement and what seems to be the entire Black community. Something has gotta break sooner or later. Even sans opinion it is easy to see that something’s gotta give. We can explain away anything because we have grown so comfortable with the odd notion that our thoughts represent reality that we take things for granted that most certainly are not in any friggin way granted at all. But that gives us lot to work with, when we can ignore things staring us smack in the face. So, how does this figure in with my childlike wonder? It is because I look at what we could be if we just quit acting out of prolonged ignorance. I for one am intrigued by the concept of prolonged ignorance, and I hope to heaven to see it in a roadside museum some day, right alongside the rubber alligators and fake Indian arrows. Tally ho.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Giving Up Reality For Wonder


“Religion, mysticism and magic all spring from the same basic ‘feeling’ about the universe: a sudden feeling of meaning, which human beings sometimes ‘pick up’ accidentally, as your radio might pick up some unknown station. Poets feel that we are cut off from meaning by a thick, lead wall, and that sometimes for no reason we can understand the wall seems to vanish and we are suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of the infinite interestingness of things.”   ~  Colin Wilson, The Occult

Sometimes I feel really silly, or Simply daft, to speak of Beings of Light. I mean come on. But I am in good company when I speak as such. That’ll do. I was looking at, for the first time in a long time, Eban Alexander’s website. Friggin guy comes across so New Age-y. I was never that way but in many ways I thought that way. Still, I believe Dr. Alexander’s claim, his story. I am thinking about this now because I am going to a reading by an author, Debra Diamond, who has put into words the experiences of twelve people, one of whom is me, who have has NDEs and have had subsequent odd, and maybe even amazing, phenomena as a result. Side effects from a dream? Yeah, maybe. I burnt out many a light bulb in the months after my NDE, simply through proximity. I’d go to turn off a lamp and before I even touched the switch the bulb would burn out. Or I’d walk by close to a burning bulb and it would pop into darkness. This happened too many times, in my estimation, for it to be coincidence. Another thing is that I would feel light as a tactile phenomenon. Light would feel like fabric against my skin, no matter the intensity of the light. Odd. The thing is that I experienced this a few days ago and I was taken by the magnificence of this perception.

People speak of Oneness and Light, and Love. I am more scientific minded; I don’t know what the significance of the Light and Love stuff is. We are all connected. I can see that fact and, for the life of me I do not see that as any more than physics 101. People say that and I think, “And your point is  .  .  . “? And then there is my discarnate friend, who I see as the Celtic goddess Brighid. I mean, what’s up with that. Her presence in my life is an influence that goes way beyond any connections I have with real, corporeal people. When she shows up I get a feeling of vastness, as if some curtain on some grand stage has been pulled back, and I see something that is as of yet incomprehensible to me, yet despite its mysterious nature I know that it is part and parcel an integral part of the Universe as we know it. The old idea that analogizes to a TV, where you are tuned in to one channel yet there are many other channels that you cannot see because you tuned in to a specific one, applies here. As for that curtain, and the stage, it would be easy to go right to that scene in The Wizard of Oz. Friggin fake that guy. Not so in my case.

I have tried for 31.48 years now to convince myself that I was casually lying about it all, and I have been unable to do so, because it is not a lie, and it is not psychological confabulation either. Whatever happened is happening now; a timeless thing that still rings like a crystal bell in its state of being realer than real. I’m not saying that physical reality is an illusion. That claim seems friggin silly to me. Compared to what. It’s all consciousness, they say. Well, yeah, and  .  .  .? Yet, my discarnate friend laughs a lot, and I think that the laughter has something to do with my being of two worlds in my split between scientific view and the spiritual view. Duality, they call it. And on and on and on and on. I say let the researchers take to the task of wringing an answer out of the questions, but we all know that the questions are more important than the answers, and to me that is because once posed the questions already exist, whereas the answers may never come. So? Live in the moment? I live in my head, as they say. Be here now. I am dude, I am. You create your own reality? My reality today consists of cats and kittens, and taking care of their needs. Let me tell you right here and now (giggle), them cats is magic. They see things we don’t. My cat even knows when it is exactly 3:33 AM. What’s up with that. Can you even imagine a cat wearing an Apple Watch? They could wake you up then give you the weather report, then the top headlines.

I end this post in silliness and I feel no compunction in doing so. I’m giving up reality, of any nature, today. What I do will be done for the doin’, and thereupon I will wonder. That’s all. I wonder. Let’s go from there, k?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Joy Incarnate


“Science enhances the moral value of life, because it furthers a love of truth and reverence—love of truth displaying itself in the constant endeavor to arrive at a more exact knowledge of the world of mind and matter around us, and reverence, because every advance in knowledge brings us face to face with the mystery of our own being.”  ~  Max Planck

The rooster did not crow this morning. Odd. Other than that it’s kittens. And more kittens. Our opening photo here today at EyeYotee blog is of kittens, kittens in a playroom. Yesterday the boss had 13-14 kittens in that room. I was taking a family of four out to see the little monkeys. I found myself having to crawl on all fours through the door to keep the kittens from bolting through the open door. That took some work. BTW, they are not really monkeys. Our former vet used to call them that. It stuck with me. Imagine me on all fours confronting the little beasts. I don’t know about you but I am amused. Now, I am looking forward to attending the SOMOS conference at the Old Courthouse on Sunday. Debra Diamond will read from her forthcoming book, Life after Near Death. I am one of 12 case studies she included in the book. This will be the first time I have met her in person. I’m excited. Other than that it’s kittens. And more kittens. Life brings joy in strange ways. Kittens are joy incarnate.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Magic Is Real

Stella's Bath 020

“People believe, thought Shadow. It’s what people do. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjuration. People populate the darkness; with ghost, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen.”  ~ Neil Gaiman, American Gods

The strain from maintaining positive thinking has me fatigued. I have optimism issues, maybe even some kind of disorder. In fact, there is no maybe about it; bipolar 2 disorder and PTSD. Neither keeps me from optimism, they just make it seem unnecessary. It’s a mysterious feeling, but I give it its mystery and let it ride at that. Some things just have to be that way. You can’t know everything. I gave myself a gift yesterday, I visited an good friend in her New Age shop, Optimysm, downtown. I don’t usually do business plugs, and this isn’t really a plug so much as it is a matter of fact. My friend is a publicly admitted witch. I admire that, admire her ‘outing’ herself, but I might be included in that same category because I am pretty much a Druid, so my admiration arises from fellowship, so it should come as no surprise. Wicca has been reported as the fastest growing religion in this country. And it is about magic, which is one of my favorite causes. Magic is real, folks; you can really hack into the cosmic mainframe and alter the way things happen. History has cast aspersions, painting magic as a dance with the Dark Side. Balderdash. Magic demystified will show itself to be a simple fact of life. I’m pretty sure that it will be acknowledged by science, by and by. And I am fairly sure that magic is what can be found when one loosens up enough to hear what the late great Terence McKenna called the Cosmic Giggle. And while we are at it, I believe in UFOs as well. Take the Rendlesham Forest Incident in Great Britain for example. The incident covered three days back in 1980. The evidence, and reports by witnesses trained to pay attention and report clearly, is compelling. Eventually this incident will raise public awareness of UFOs enough to make an impact on civilization at large. The weirdnesses of the world is not actually weird at all, it is just that we’uns just ain’t figured it out yet. I love this kind of stuff, and I have seen magic work, I have been in a Wiccan sacred circle ritual. It might blow your mind to experience the palpable magic of such a ritual. I highly recommend it. So, why am I on this tack this morning? Boy howdy I sure wish I knew why!  But I know for sure, I can feel it as well, and it arises from my highly rigorous efforts to maintain an operational sense of optimism. I’ve been caged by my disorders, much like the beautiful girl in today’s closing photograph. That is Persephone, a cat who is healing from a grievous wound, a wound that is the first thing to make me cry since I have worked at Stray Hearts Animal Shelter. When I showed the wound to one our medical workers she shuddered and turned away. I choked up and cried. But Persephone is better now. Because she was a stray I got the honor of giving her a name, and Persephone is the name that came to me without pause, because in Greek mythology Persephone is the Goddess who entered the darkness of the Underworld. She dies for half a year then arises in the Springtime. Persephone the cat faced a near-fatal wound, and she is coming back now. This may seem to you to be a rather rough analogy, but the fact is that what I am trying to describe is something that enters into this mundane level from the realm of the unspeakable, which Terence McKenna call ‘unlanguageable’. No words folks. No words. Magic is like that. It works alright but it ain’t so easy to explain it. But like a scientific experiment results can be repeated through numerous efforts. Healing is like that as well, which is a good thing since we must heal many times, in many ways, throughout our magical lives. Persephone the cat used up one of her nine lives recently. She will be my role model for a while. Her magic might rub off on me. Say, is my topic making sense to you this morning? I don’t quite get it either, but I feel it in my heart and soul. Magic is real.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.