Conversation Stoppers

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“Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.”  ~  Dr. Benjamin Spock

“My dream concept is that I have a camera and I am trying to photograph what is essentially invisible. And every once in a while I get a glimpse of her and I grab that picture.”  ~  Leonard Nimoy

Another cold (sorta) morning. The chickens are mumbling out in the coop. Rosie the cat is laying behind my back, watching patiently, until I finally come to my senses and feed her. Soon come, sweetie. I guess the big question of the morning is why I keep reading piece after piece about Donald Trump. I have no answer so let’s move forward. Speaking of buzzwords and phrases, I got a little smile yesterday when I heard the second buzz phrase within one hour, from two different people. The first one was from a woman who reminded me that it’s “not all about me”. The second one was a guy who reminded me that “that’s all in the past”. I find that such used and maybe overused phrases, because they are so often repeated, tend to hamper communication. They come across almost like a dismissal: a conversation stopper. Maybe it’s for the best, right? Yeah, maybe; maybe, whatever. Maybe repetition is in itself good communication. I just don’t know. It is Sunday morning and I find my body to be somewhat hyper-reactive. That much I do know. I’m through with my morning coffee, which was delicious on multiple levels. Some stuff to do later in the morning, wrapping up an obligation. Then what? I find these days that I have no dreams for the future. I’m not liking that much. If that same guy I just mentioned should happen by and tell me “that’s all in the future” I’d have to just scratch my head, or put my hand to my cheek Jack Benny style, or maybe just gaze at him as if I had no real reason for doing so. Without detectable dreams for the future it’s just all survival. That’s me today. Beyond my aforementioned obligation I simply have to buy some fresh cat litter. Room’s getting a little, ummmm, aromatic. Moving forward, I just stopped writing and fed the cat. She’ll get her insulin injection when she is finished with breakfast. The degree to which she has come to dominate me, manipulate me, is becoming a little disturbing. My life energy is so low that she pretty much has her way. My only recourse is to get angry, but that would make it all about me. I’m feeling dominated left and right these days, with no exceptions. But since it is not all about me it really doesn’t matter what standing I hold in my life or in the world. Yeah, I’m depressed. But that too is not all about me, right? Wrong. Whatever, dude. It’s a fact, no more no less. Nothing fancy. I’m finding it harder to live with everyday. But that’s too much drama, right?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously

Shadow Boxing Balloons

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“As I thought of these things, I drew aside the curtains and looked out into the darkness, and it seemed to my troubled fancy that all those little points of light filling the sky were the furnaces of innumerable divine alchemists, who labour continually, turning lead into gold, weariness into ecstasy, bodies into souls, the darkness into God; and at their perfect labour my mortality grew heavy, and I cried out, as so many dreamers and men of letters in our age have cried, for the birth of that elaborate spiritual beauty which could alone uplift souls weighted with so many dreams.”  ~  W. B. Yates

I had better get writing here or it ain’t gonna happen at all. I think the most charming thing I have seen so far today is a video of President Bill Clinton playing with balloons on stage at the Democratic National Convention. Now, don’t go off here and tell me how Bill mucked up the country with his accomplishment in international trade, or about is putting a stain on that poor young woman’s dress. He may have lied but he still plays with balloons! That excuses a lot, in my view. His wife? She might do well to bop an air bag her own self. Give her time; this woman has a  fun sense of humor. Humor should not be lacking in these grave times. Trump must be stopped. Read here at EyeYotee and you will see this phrase repeated for the next six month. Trump must be stopped. Another thing that dawned on me is that the internet might well be a venue for the emergence of the collective unconscious. I’m all for that. Peeps see this election as the a contest between two shadow figures. Trump? Archetypal bastard? I think so. Hillary? A giver of false report? Yeah, to some degree. A pawn of too big to fail bankers? Listen, they are not too big to fail. That is giving them too much credit. “Entropy is the measure of the lack of knowledge about the true nature of a system”. Some obscure French quantum physicist said that back a few decades ago. I concur. Now, read that quote through one more time or two. We think we are so smart, right? Yeah, to some degree.

This morning was cold, down to 53º. Made me smile; and then I looked up to see that the Milky Way was brilliant. I have not seen it that way since the deep cold nights of late Winter. Another smile. I’m dealing with some shadows of my own this morning. The damp weight of sorrowful undercurrents has me feeling oppressed. “Think positive!” says the archetypal Optimist who likes to try and make me think that she/he is a valid part of my control systems, of my mind, my personal corner of the hive mind. Listen, buddy, I’ll chose my own algorithms, if – you – don’t – mind. Just imagine for a minute, the fable of the tortoise and the hare; now replace the two animals with thoughts. Catch my drift, buddy? No worries, you don’t have to. And so off I go into Systems Theory. And Chaos Theory. And the Higgs Boson, the God Particle. Yeah, right. Resonance, harmonics. My own ability to tap into conscious participation in broader harmonics, society and culture and stuff, was wounded back when I was helping my mother die. That night I applied a second Fentanyl patch to her right bicep, and she went all cold and shivery, and I gave her a heavy blanket as the demon particles swarmed down around us. It was one of the greatest fights of my life, and I prevailed. I lost a lot of gumption during those months. My wounds, however conscious they now are, are still all raw and stuff dude. Friggin demons. Believe what you want, they were real!  Which brings me back into the present moments (sic). I’ve gotta prep for work. I suspect old wounds are starting to heal. Hurts like hell. So what. If I see any balloons today I am a gonna relax a tad and kick me an airbag, k?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Rules of the Road

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“It’s a popular fact that 90 percent of the brain is not used and, like most popular facts, it is wrong. . . . It is used. One of its functions is to make the miraculous seem ordinary, to turn the unusual into the usual. Otherwise, human beings, faced with the daily wondrousness of everything, would go around wearing a stupid grin, saying “Wow,” a lot. Part of the brain exists to stop this from happening.”  ~  Terry Pratchett

Although I awoke to the sound of the alarm going off it was the sound of thunder that I remember as being first. Thunder and lightning. Can you hear lightning? I did, so I must have still been dreaming, a fact suggested by yet another fact, that being that I do not remember hearing the alarm, although it makes a fair enough amount of noise. I’ll stop right there. I could easily indulge in clever wordplay until I was left with only quantum physics to allow me to continue as such. I am not into that today. Painting today, finishing up the side job, going into town to pick up a prescription. My mother once asked me “why don’t you do something normal for a change?”. I still haven’t figured out what that means in a literal sense although I understand exactly what she was telling me by saying what she did. Such is language – there is an unspoken undercurrent, one that is easily accessed by one’s mother, but maybe no so by others. It’s one of my favorite features of language. Language is not the same thing as communication, I keep reminding myself, nor is communicating beyond normal accustomed daily language always such a good idea. In fact it is often pretty stupid to do so. I think we all know better than that. Boy howdy we don’t even always know what the heck we are talking about! Which includes me in this morning’s post. I’ve been sorely tempted to dive into election analysis but I am unlikely to let foolishness overcome me like that. We have people to do that for us. Besides, I am admittedly not open-minded about how it all sits or sets at this time. In my narrow outlook it is now time to begin a concerted effort to prevent Trump from achieving the Presidency, and then we can sort all the rest out after completing that concert. I don’t see any problem with that. Hey, BTW, have you ever tried to imagine what an ordeal it must be for Trump to take a shower? I mean, he has to do that for himself, right? Do you think he knows how to cook a passable omelet? Does he drive? I think about these kinds of things. I really really really want to humanize him. Why on Earth would I want to do that?!  Hey, if he does know how to drive I think he should be kept off the road, k? How about that, right? Dang, gotta go, burning daylight.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Smile At Sunrise

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“Books choose their authors; the act of creation is not entirely a rational and conscious one.”  ~  Salman Rushdie

Coyotes were here this morning. I found their presence to be soothing. I could use some soothing right now. It will come. I’m just back from a brief trip outside the fence, where I soaked in the early phase of the sunrise over the mountains. A lot of beauty to be had. And yet my writing feels clunky, so I am keeping it short. It’s going to be a long day. I find myself smiling when all indication suggest that a smile should not be a possibility right now. I kinda like that. Let’s see how the day goes, moving forward.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Big Cats Little Cats

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“I am convinced that the way forward for the human race is to recognize and protect the fundamental right of sovereignty over consciousness, to throw off the chains of our divisive religious heritage, to seek out forms of spirituality (or no spirituality at all if we so prefer) that are truly supportive of liberty and tolerance, to help the human spirit to grow rather than to wither, and to nurture our innate capacity for love and mutual respect. The old ways are broken and bankrupt and new ways are struggling to be born. Each one of us with our own talents, and by our own choices, has a part to play in that process.”    ~  Graham Hancock

The Moon is holding her own, and as far as I can see – how far that is I don’t know – she is expressing more clearly than she did at full. I love it. Clear stars accompany her up there this morning, and behind the light of it all the wash of the Milky Way holds pale court in the distance; measure that distance in parsecs. Or megaparsecs, even better. The night sky is putting on a show, I’m drinking coffee, and my plucky cat is fast asleep at my side, curled up like a meatloaf. Sweetie. Now, I lost probably 60 cats, this time last year. It was only a job, right? Nope. It was not only a job. It was a mission and a devotion to service and a way to practice grace and patience. The Executive Director of the animal shelter used to give us speeches, most generously. He reminded us that it was NOT only a job. I nod to his perspicacity. That last speech I heard  –  well, he said the same thing by laying off 67% of the crew, because he had to. I will always remember that scene, twenty-some adults, in a chaotic circle of chairs and makeshift seating arrangements, listening to that speech. It wasn’t so bad really. The layoff had to be done. No doubt. Wait, what? It could have been done another way. It did not have to happen that way. No, I will not let perspicacity get in the way of deep primal feelings. I have an old friend who recently told me a tale of their recent encounter with three mountain lions at once, at night. The big cats had the group of campers surrounded, boxed in, in the dark, campfire, two little girls there as well. The cats came up close. The two men in the group had guns, but they only used them to try to scare away the beasts. No one was hurt; they scrambled into the truck and got the hell out of there. The incident happened in the exact same area where I had my near death encounter with two of the big cats, back in the Spring of ’95. We are all of us plain lucky we did not become cat food. Sheesh, I used to go up there, to Paradise Canyon, alone, to meditate in the Alpine zone; for peace, for solitude. I once heard big cats in the tall grass, mewling, communicating. There is a sizable chunk of text in my book that tells all about it. I used to go up there for healing. At the time I had no idea that healing is what we are here for. It does not end. Ever. The title of the lovely Ondrea Levine’s autobiography says it all: The Healing I Took Birth For. Soooo – big cats little cats, administrators – it’s all about those deep primal feelings. That is what I got during my 1.5 year journey in the cattery at Stray Hearts. My first year there was mired in controversy, as was the next Summer there. Me thinks it never ended the first time. That first Summer saw the good house doctor go down in a scene that was reminiscent of the Salem witch trials. I talked with the good doctor, my friend, recently. He’s on his way back up, after two years of recovering from the onslaught of misdirected perspicacity. Healing, right. Justice. Yeah, justice. I am fortunate to have served the cats, and I am grateful to be away from the admin, org, whatever, humans. Deep breath, deep primal feelings. Big cats little cats. Which brings me to the end of this post.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

 

The Goddess and the Storm

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“They sicken of the calm who know the storm.”  ~  Dorothy Parker

“There is peace even in the storm”  ~  Vincent van Gogh

Mountains washed in sunlight, seen through the light rain, preceding a brief but intense storm, a storm that came down south from up yonder Questa way. That was Sunday. I was working on my side job, painting that rocker I wrote about a few days ago. The neighbor there, for whom I cat sit on occasion, saw me working and brought me a nice cold can of some American pale ale. It was truly delicious, both flavor and buzz. One must learn to chill, and sometimes one needs a little boost in that direction. Tally ho! That storm was dark, full of thunder and lightning, perfect. I didn’t quite finish painting. Gave in to the rain. Now, earlier this morning I was listening to a version of the Youngbloods’ “Get Together” and I succumbed to the beauty of it all. Love. Somehow it brought Lori to mind: my long deceased soulmate. I don’t know why. Maybe she is watching over me. It happens. The tears came up just like Sunday’s rain came down.There were a few near-sobs, but for some reason I suppressed them. The question becomes: if you can’t channel love openly what good is it? Keep it buried down deep inside? Yeah, right. I felt my love for the woman as the magnificent thing that it is. Wait – can love be a “thing”? Dude, it is a thing. Love can be anything. Just watch. And dude what a way to start the day dude, I’m like all stoked and stuff with the love we had, have, whatever, between us dude. How many people find their soul mate dude? Aw dude! I could go on here about Lori, but you can read about our relationship, and her two brushes with death, in my book: Theater of Clouds. That link was the paperback. Here’s a link for the Kindle version: Theater of Clouds dude. Hey, it’s called shameless self-promotion, k? I spent all that time writing and publishing a book, of course I want people to read it. But I also have a copy in my backpack. Ace Hardware, downtown, Taos, New Mexico. Come by, read it for free. Most of the books I sent out went out for free. And on that note I must get to prepping for my workday. I’m not used to getting all emotional and stuff, openly weeping first thing in the morning; it’s usually the time for free-floating anxiety. Go figure. She was a gift from the goddess, Lori was. Come to think of it, it’s going to be a good day at work. Non sequitur? Yup.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Blessing Either Way

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“The limits of my language means the limits of my world.”  ~  Ludwig Wittgenstein

Running late this morning so maybe fewer words than I care to share will appear on this page. How’s that for an awkward sentence. My world shifted sharply yesterday, in ways that I won’t directly share here. No worries. I’ve been yearning for a change and here it is. It’s a shift in perception as much as it is a shift in the way practical matters will subsequently demand compliance. Dag nab it I am being too obscure. I may as well be trying to describe a romantic fantasy. Oh well, in a couple of days I will be able to do a retrospect thingy about my tragic (not really tragic) departure from the animal shelter. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I miss them kitties, but I have one wonderful cat here bedside me, sleeping soundly at the moment, or at least until I break out the food, at which point she will temporarily become the annoying pain in the ass that I know so well. No less lovable, mind you. Tis a blessing either way.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

 

Doesn’t That Make You Happy?

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“Whoever drinks beer, he is quick to sleep; whoever sleeps long, does not sin; whoever does not sin, enters Heaven! Thus, let us drink beer!”  ~  Martin Luther

We have, Rosie the cat and I, slipped through the lavender hour, when twilight is at its most artistic, when dreams still have not forgotten to feed the day, when the orange and gold of sunrise is still somewhat of a dream of anticipation, and all is well with the world; coffee, water, and restful like neutral gear in an automobile lets the engine run free while we coast along for an hour or two. Listen, don’t jump out of bed, grab some Wheaties on the run, rush into your clothes, and slip on out the door on the way to a double shot of espresso or a half pint of Red Bull. I implore thee, oh brothers and sisters: slow the fuck down, k. As for the expletive in the previous sentence, I think that it is ingrained adherence that makes it sound so bad, yet its bad reputation is what makes it so useful, rhetorically speaking. The word made my sentence say exactly what I wanted to say. I care about y’ll. Being amped up all the time makes it hard to get through to you. But its okay anyway. I want you to be happy as well. That’s the main thing. In my obscure way I will mysteriously quote Fezzik, the gentle giant in “The Princess Bride”, right after Westly gets drained of nearly all of his life energy, and our heroes of the story desperately must storm the castle to rescue the beautiful princess from the evil prince. Westly starts coming around and makes a gesture with his finger (no, not that gesture. That comes later). Fezzik says softly, “You just moved your finger. Doesn’t that make you happy?”. Don’t burnout; that’s all, k? Now, please note that I am being myself in this morning’s writing of this post. In three days it will be the anniversary of my losing my job working with cats. I find that I feel all emotional and stuff. Boy howdy do I ever! Nuff said, it’s time to feed my cat.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Longing and the Sight

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“It’s discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.”  ~  Sir Noël Coward

“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”  ~  Mark Twain

“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”  ~  Aldous Huxley

Breezy morning. That hasn’t happened in a while. Yesterday, as I worked on painting a wooden love seat rocker, for a while the afternoon wind blew like a blast furnace of unwanted heat. I endured as I listened to a talk by Terence McKenna and Rupert Sheldrake, about form and memory, novelty and mystery. Heady stuff punctuated by McK’s sparkling humor. After I was done for the day, not having completed the job, I was climbing into my car when I noticed a female coyote briskly trotting along the gravel road. I called out, “Hey, buddy!”, and she slowed just a bit as she smiled back at me. Have you ever seen a coyote smile? Well, I have. I’ve seen one dance as well. That was one of the most perplexing encounters in my life. I had slowed my car to a stop, on the same gravel road I just mentioned, as the male coyote crossed the road and did two bounds up to the top of an embankment to my left. I rolled down the window cautiously in hopes of not scaring the animal. He stop and turned to face me. I called out, “Hey, buddy”, and upon hearing my voice he began to dance. Very strange indeed. The graceful twists and reversals were truly stunning. I think that is the whole idea; to charm the witness, be it prey or human, no matter. This is a strange morning for me. Maybe it was seeing the Trickster on the road yesterday? Or maybe it was seeing Donald Trump, in his acceptance speech for his sealed candidacy, glowering over the crowd and the country, like the shadow of a great scavenger with black wings spread far; or maybe like a Dementor, trying to suck the soul out of Harry Potter. Or Voldemort. He had a troubled childhood, you know. It is still unclear to me just how Voldemort left his old identity, Tom Riddle, behind when he turned to the dark side. I am also unclear as to just when Trump did the same. We could use Luke Skywalker right about now. Or Rey. Or Louis Black. I’m not too picky. It’s just that that Trump fella needs some powerful opposition. We need the Guardians of the Galaxy! Oh well. The material world calleth, so I had best get out of my somewhat chaotic head and to the day. Gotta go finish the painting job. Hopefully I will see Coyote again. I’d like that. It means something to me; it reconnects me with novelty and Mystery, which soothe my weary soul and brings forth the Longing and the Sight. What’s that, you may ask? I’ll tell all y’all later.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Ghost and the Darkness

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“Why stop dreaming when you wake up?”  ~  Neil Gaiman

It’s gonna be a short one today. I am not depressed about the Republican debacle of the past four days. Do what you can. He must not win. Period. As for me, it’s a good enough morning, and my worldview got a shaking up two mornings ago when I saw a fleeting glimpse of a ghost, in broad daylight. It, he, she, whatever, also brushed up against me. I wasn’t at all afraid. It’s really cool because it is valuable research for the novel. Thanks, spirit, I needed that. BTW, I am not joking about this. It was exciting! Moving on, today is more side job work. It’ll be fun. Painting. I’ll find a good video talk to listen to. T. McK is a strong favorite. We will see. Backtrack here before I go  .  .  .  don’t let that asshole win. Just don’t. Oops, I just said a bad word; but he is. It’s not my fault. Fella’s way dark. See ya.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously, k?