Life Its Own Self


“Letting ourselves be forgiven is one of the most difficult healings we will undertake. And one of the most fruitful.”  ~  Stephen Levine

“Simply touching a difficult memory with some slight willingness to heal begins to soften the holding and tension around it.”  ~  Stephen Levine

“Pain in this life is not avoidable, but the pain we create avoiding pain is avoidable.”  ~  R. D. Laing

Three storms on the way. Coffee all consumed. Cat lounging under my chair. Microwave neck wrap heating up in the microwave. Stiff neck. Yeh. What else? I include the two quotes above because one of my writing heroes passed away just about one year ago. The man was all about healing. I like what he said, many times over. Stephen Levine is the fella I’m talking about. I just wanted to mention that, k? Yeh.

I’m relishing the cold morning. The neighborhood is peaceful today. And my hearing is all about the ringing that nearly overrides every sound within earshot. Complaining, I am. And I am trying really really hard to believe that the powerful healing transition I am going through will eventually include a notable diminishment of the whining in my ears. One can only hope.

It’s another massage session for me in one week. I can’t wait . The first session, as it turns out, was highly beneficial. There is much more to come. Of that I am sure. The therapist has good hands, and the healing touch. Yeh, she knows her stuff, and I made a good choice with her.

I note that my writing style this morning is somewhat clunky. So be it. I’m feeling a deep disturbance in the Force, because tomorrow afternoon there will be a President Trump in our world. I’m not making that up. Friggin guy! I’ve mentioned before that .  .  .  oh, never mind. I’m just upset, that’s all. I’m NOT feeling eloquent, k?! I’m feeling like curling up with an escapist movie this afternoon, after my psychotherapy session.

I’ve got healing on my mind. It is most certainly a physical thing. I’ve been through physical therapy and that helped. Now it is massage therapy I choose. My intuition sends me incessant messages that keep me focused on the body as the place where trauma is stored. Muscle memory. PTSD. I’m all squirmy and stuff this morning. I just want to hide away. It’s my day off from work, so there is adequate time in which to hide.

It is time to wrap up this post. I just cannot get into writing today. I’m including a snippet from Peter Levine, below. He articulates PTSD succinctly in this passage. I appreciate that. It gets tiresome to live in a constant state of alarm. You never get used to it. I’m all about healing today. Goddess knows I have plenty to work with. You can’t make the trauma go away, without removing the source, and the source is life its own self. Yeh.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

“In response to threat and injury, animals, including humans, execute biologically based, non-conscious action patterns that prepare them to meet the threat and defend themselves. The very structure of trauma, including activation, dissociation and freezing are based on the evolution of survival behaviors. When threatened or injured, all animals draw from a “library” of possible responses. We orient, dodge, duck, stiffen, brace, retract, fight, flee, freeze, collapse, etc. All of these coordinated responses are somatically based- they are things that the body does to protect and defend itself. It is when these orienting and defending responses are overwhelmed that we see trauma.

The bodies of traumatized people portray “snapshots” of their unsuccessful attempts to defend themselves in the face of threat and injury. Trauma is a highly activated incomplete biological response to threat, frozen in time. For example, when we prepare to fight or to flee, muscles throughout our entire body are tensed in specific patterns of high energy readiness. When we are unable to complete the appropriate actions, we fail to discharge the tremendous energy generated by our survival preparations. This energy becomes fixed in specific patterns of neuromuscular readiness. The person then stays in a state of acute and then chronic arousal and dysfunction in the central nervous system. Traumatized people are not suffering from a disease in the normal sense of the word- they have become stuck in an aroused state. It is difficult if not impossible to function normally under these circumstances.”  ~  Peter Levine


Tuck and Roll

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“One of the tasks of true friendship is to listen compassionately and creatively to the hidden silences. Often secrets are not revealed in words, they lie concealed in the silence between the words or in the depth of what is unsayable between two people.”  ~  John O’Donohue

“The beauty that emerges from woundedness is a beauty infused with feeling; a beauty different from the beauty of landscape and the cold perfect form. This is a beauty that has suffered its way through the ache of desolation until the words or music emerged to equal the hunger and desperation at its heart. It must also be said that not all woundedness succeeds in finding its way through to beauty of form. Most woundedness remains hidden, lost inside forgotten silence. Indeed, in every life there is some wound that continues to weep secretly, even after years of attempted healing. Where woundedness can be refined into beauty a wonderful transfiguration takes place.”  ~  John O’Donohue

Perhaps selfish  .  .  .  but I have been drawn lately to a bit of introspection, during which I find myself reviewing my inner wounds of the soul. May I call it recapitulation? Thanks, yer a pal. Restating a theme in a musical composition, repetition of a process during growth and/or development. Stuff like that; two examples, one from music and one from biology. When you get right down to it I am a Druid at heart. I most often see this world as an expression of music, of a song. Oran Mór. The Great Melody. From which flows the world. Imagine that. I’m talking about redundancy, with purpose. It’s not so much learning from past mistakes and triumphs, it is more like revisiting these potentially pivotal experiences and using them as jumping-off points for growth. Wounds are just such a thing. They were never meant to be a permanent anchor. At first the anchor thingy is a boon toward healing. If carried on tooooo long it all just gets in the way. Yes, I feel a song in my heart this morning. The massage last week loosened up a lot more than a few achin’ muscles and bones. My left shoulder, the impact point in my “tuck and roll” method of absorbing the firm blow of a bicycle crash, has not felt so good, so free, within memory. But the loosening up goes a lot deeper. The physical results of the massage therapy are profound in themselves. But there is another level, that released by the release of imprisoned muscle memory. That’s the good stuff. At least right now it is. Come 3 PM, after a few hours on my feet during my work shift, the physical part of the release will be most appreciated  .  .  .  and yet, the inner peace that is emerging, burgeoning, whatever, will be a silent partner in the deal. I’d call that a bargain, the best I ever had. Or something like that. I’m flushed with gratitude this morning, and basking in the music of the Universe, which sings pretty good, if I do say so myself. The cat is asleep on the bed at my side, the coffee is all gone. Maybe more, I don’t know. Surely I’ll brew a cup to take to work with me; I almost always do. Caffeine fuels commerce. But I ain’t drinkin’ no Red Bull. I’m feeling good stirrings in my heart. A day at work awaits my presence. But, did I dig too deep in today’s blog post? Nah, not really. Umberto Eco said that a writer’s duty is to observe and report. Observation of myself is always such an intriguing thing. It is interesting enough when I am being all stodgy and stuck and stuff. But now, with changes visibly stirring, it is danged near fun. What I am trying to say, perhaps, is that it is a good day. I’ll be enjoying my freshly loosened up body. I’ve got another massage session scheduled for next week. More to come, right? Right. It’s all a creative act. Yeh it is.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Beautiful and Terrible


“No one ever said that you would live to see the repercussions of everything you do, or that you have guarantees, or that you are not obliged to wander in the dark, or that everything will be proved to you and neatly verified like something in science. Nothing is: at least nothing that is worthwhile. I didn’t bring you up only to move across sure ground. I didn’t teach you to think that everything must be within our control or understanding. Did I? For, if I did, I was wrong. If you won’t take a chance, then the powers you refuse because you cannot explain them, will, as they say, make a monkey out of you.”  ~  Mark Helprin, Winter’s Tale

“Sometimes attaining the deepest familiarity with a question is our best substitute for actually having the answer.”  ~  Brian Greene, The Elegant Universe

There was a little more snow sometime during the night. It’s a lovely world out there. Several days of lingering stormy weather has been a period of sweetness for me. I can’t rightly say exactly why that is. I do love a good storm, and most of them seem small after seeing Hurricane Andrew back in 1992. No more hurricanes for me. They are beautiful for their power and terrible for the same reason. It’s sort of like the ancient descriptions of angels – beautiful and/or terrible – or both. I know the ‘both’ thing. The spirit being that came to me when the van came through the wall of the house, and saved me from significant harm, was both beautiful and terrifying in her power. There is no true description of such a thing. You had to be there, which I was, obviously. A young man mentioned that van accident to me a few days ago. His wife told him about it. She and I worked together back then. It is something I so rarely think about, in part because it was so damned strange. But I did get a kick out of calling in sick to work while sitting on the exam table in the Emergency Room, then explaining what had happened. The owner of the store where I worked answered the phone. I knew what his facial expression would look like as I told him the news. It was simply a delicious moment. Now, about the spirit being, that serious duality of power is one of the reasons it took so long for me to begin writing about my NDE, which happened back in 1984. NDEs likely sound preposterous to many people. It took me nearly 20 years to begin writing the book. Much of that was unavoidably due to needed research. If I had been a Christian it would have been much easier, because I would have had a built-in head start because of the belief system. There is a large Christian NDE book market these days. But I digress, pivot, whatever. The main thing that kept me from writing for so long is that I wanted to justify the experience, I wanted to write it so well that any reader would be inclined to believe me. I so much wanted to be believed. It wasn’t until I finally realized that this was not possible that I allowed myself to simply tell the tale on its own merits. Oh, by the way, I sold a paperback copy of the book last week. That’s makes me $1.86 richer! It’s been a long time since I sold a copy. It’s fun, and fulfilling, to know that someone new is reading it. Because of the nature my my neck and shoulder issues I had to explain to the massage therapist last week exactly what had happened to precipitate the injuries. I went ahead and told her about the NDE as well. I was hemming and hawing, trying to downplay the woo woo stuff, but at one point she softly said, “It’s okay, I believe this stuff”. That made it so much easier to complete the telling. So maybe it was she who bought the book? Maybe. I saw the sales report on Amazon (where the book is published) the next day. Could have just been a coincidence. Whatever. I’m still feeling the benefits from that massage, nearly a week later. That’s the important part at this point and place in time. Well, ummmm, it’s a workday. Think I’ll mosey on into that headspace; see iffin I can get a foot up on the day before I even start.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

An Unexpected Giddiness


“What greater gift than the love of a cat.”  ~  Charles Dickens

“He loved her, of course, but better than that, he chose her, day after day. Choice: that was the thing.”  ~  Sherman Alexie

Foggy and somewhat dizzy this morning. It snowed just a little overnight, and the effect upon the backyard is just right. Yes, I am feeling somewhat out of it, so far, today. This too shall pass, right? Perhaps a little too much to drink on Saturday night. I’m too old for that now. Not really old, I know, but too old for over imbibing. But I did get copious sleep throughout the day, on and off, yesterday. And I am a little shaky with or without alcohol. I am learning my lesson as I write this. Nice. Yesterday was mom’s birthday; woulda been 86. Her death was a heartbreak, but only because of the months before she actually passed. Those months left a significant scar. I do not regret it, at all. But I came to realize yesterday morning that my grieving for the love of my life, Lori, has not only been going on too long, it has become unhealthy and restrictive. I think that is what the imbibing was about. Too personal here? Nah, not really. I met somebody recently, and my nearly instant positive feelings of attraction mystified me. Where did that come from? I felt so good in her presence. There was nothing more to it than that. Yeh, chemistry, and smiles, bright ones. The point here is that I came to realize that Lori is holding me back, the memory of her death mostly. I felt offended by her death. I can cry about her now, but at first, over 20 years ago, I tucked the tears away, safely beyond reach. It was not a mistake. What is happening to me now, the changes, is that I am seeing Lori as a smiling presence, and not a shadowy and repressive memory. Lucky me. But that is why I was mystified. Because of the anchor-like weight that lifted all of a sudden. What exactly was that?! I had no idea that was there. I hope to see this woman again. Alas, today is not the day. Must go to work. I think it will be fun today, and that the “out of it” feeling will lift easily once I get moving. Like I said, I am always a little shaky, and to add to that I recognize a giddiness from the sweet encounter recently. My mind has never grown older. The inner adolescent is not very far away, ever, thus the giddiness. It has been a long time since I have felt this way. I deserve it. But for now, moving forward, I really must shower. Probly shave too. I wonder if it is still snowing. Gonna go look now, and take a few steps upon the snow with my bare feet.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



A Known Stranger


“Songs remain. They last…A song can last long after the events and the people in it are dust and dreams and gone. That’s the power of songs.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

Take one look at the opening photo. That’s me today. Getting ready to lay down and sleep some more. Slept nine hours last night, but I feel the true need for more. No explanation. I’m not so much into explaining myself today, less so than I usually am. It gets in the way of magick, for one thing. And it takes up too much energy when I am already tired. I’ve just been reminded of the presence in my life, and an influence, of someone I never see nor hear of, a known stranger, if you will. For some reason this reminder, this knowledge, has teetered me down into a state of creature comfort. Food, relaxation, that sort of stuff. I was pretty much in this state to begin with. But some things that once were mere suggestions come to be compulsory through time. It’s just that kind of day. It is Sunday, it is snowing, and it is life.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Poetic Vibe


“Crazy Horse dreamed and went into the world where there is nothing but the spirits of all things. That is the real world that is behind this one, and everything we see here is something like a shadow from that one.”  ~  Black Elk

“I move from dreamer to dreamer, from dream to dream, hunting for what I need. Slipping and sliding and flickering through the dreams; and the dreamer will wake, and wonder why this dream seemed different, wonder how real their lives can truly be.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

“Don’t be pushed by your problems. Be led by your dreams.”  ~  Ralph Waldo Emerson

I can see the moon through the curtain. The coffee is all long gone. Sometimes on a morning like this it would be easy to make new plans, put away the shopping list, and hide the dirty laundry in the closet. Nope. Not going there today. I’ll stick with the plans. There is always the afternoon. It’s funny how being alone and quiet can be an unhealthy form of hiding, then other times it can be just the right thing, just conforming to some invisible thing. Drink lots of water, sit with the microwave neck wrap in place. No wondering what is going on out there in the world. That is strictly forbidden. Some days are meant for dreaming, both sleeping and waking. Likely that for me. A nap and a dream or two. I can dream of some high altitude mountain vista, or maybe even of a lovely woman who appears unexpectedly and she arrives smiling. I crave an aura of mystery, a poetic vibe. Yet I also find myself craving crackers and cheddar with small slices of pepperoni. Both cravings are doable, and satisfaction will be had. But can I equate the two, beyond the fact that both notions arose from the same mind? Who cares. The connection is that I haven’t the foggiest just exactly why I want the cheese and crackers and sausage, and therein lies the mystery. It might be nice to have a few green olives with that. And pimentos. This is also doable. It’s just that kind of day. The neck wrap is lovely. I got it at Taos herb. It’s kind of a darker eggshell white, with little Aboriginal Dreamtime figures dancing around. I learned just how much warehoused pain is in this neck, the other day during the massage. Treatment will require vigilance and perseverance. I have been fearing that the grimace will become set in stone. It is just an ache, but it is a deep and stubborn ache. That is what this afternoon will be all about. That and the mystery of the woman who arrived smiling. I think I saw her a few days ago. You never know with stuff like this. One treasure in life is that unlike fiction life does not have to make sense. There is really little difference between sleeping and waking dreams. Let’s leave it at that, shall we. It is just about time to go out for a little sunrise gazing.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


The Details of Dreams


“You don’t get explanations in real life. You just get moments that are absolutely, utterly, inexplicably odd.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

“Reality is one of the possibilities I cannot afford to ignore”  ~  Leonard Cohen

“Romance is the deepest thing in life. It is deeper than reality.”  ~  G. K. Chesterton

“What occurs to people when they read Kurt [Vonnegut] is that things are much more up for grabs than they thought they were. The world is a slightly different place just because they read a damn book. Imagine that.”  ~  Mark Vonnegut

“There are people who think that things that happen in fiction do not really happen. These people are wrong.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

Another coyote morning here today. They were out there singing just after I awoke this morning. I don’t remember what I was dreaming just before I woke up, but it must have been a doozy. My hair told the story. What I do remember is the feelings, which are the true nature of dreams. The details of dreams don’t make sense – well, simply because they don’t make sense. Regardless, I am now awake, and have been for a couple of hours, now. It is indeed a workday, which should be interesting, because the past two days have been about a month long, and in a good way. I’m all for time distortion. It breaks up a stodgy and suppressive storyline that can commandeer most any life. My best guess is that a habitual and rigid personal storyline gradually erodes any personal investment, any soul investment, that was there to begin with. But to find yourself suddenly awake in a world that feels fresh and new? Do you jump in? Do you invest yourself freely? Or just cautiously?  If at all. That’s why my past two days have been so long. I packed in a lot of new stuff. It’s not that I was busy, per se; no more than usual. It was an investment thingy.  Yes, I got a lot out of the past two days – because I put a lot in to the past two days. Most of it doesn’t language too well. Note: I used “language” as a verb. I did so intentionally. Now, moving forward, backward, whatever. I first noticed it during the massage on Wednesday morning. The hour long session lasted at least two days, which indicates that my perception had either gone all wonky and stuff or that it was simply otherwise occupied. My skillful practitioner showed intuition in honing in on trouble spots in this aching and fussy body. It’s a start. More work is needed. I am certainly more relaxed than I have been within recent memory. It’s partially the physical massage itself, but on a deeper level it is the self-care dynamic. If you don’t take care of yourself  .  .  .  oh, never mind. You get it. I’m feeling sorely tempted to ramble on for a while, but I ain’t goin’ that way for now. I will savor the wordless parts. That and a little breakfast will take me a long way. I enjoy my job, and it is also often fun. That is where I am going today. It’s been a long two days. A few hours of structured time won’t hurt me none, reckon?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


PTSD & Entropy



“Everything you can imagine is real.”  ~  Pablo Picasso

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.”  ~  J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan

“Don’t part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.”  ~  Mark Twain

Having been up since 3:30 AM, I just realized that the morning is somewhat preternaturally quiet. I love it when that happens. In attribution I must give the Full Moon full credit. She hangs in the southwestern sky behind a fast moving, somewhat filigreed army of clouds. The effect is stunning, to say the least. There were pastel coral and lavender hues bleeding in and out of the pure black void behind the Moon. And occasional flashes of brilliant violet light. Very dreamlike, and seductive in a special way. I remind myself that a Full Moon cracks open the Veil that separates the world of matter from the world of Spirit. It would be easy to go traveling off into the Other World for a spell, a jaunt into a place where magick runs free. Call it the Faery Kingdom, the Imaginal World, the Other Side, the plain old Side, the Nagual, Hilbert Space, psychedelic delusion, whatever. It’s a place that we artistic type know pretty darned good, and we kinda sorta rely on being able to go there at the drop of a hat. I’ll have a looksee, for certain, a few times today, but my afternoon, after my weekly psychotherapy session, will begin with Cousin Willy’s microwave popcorn. Movie theater style, lots of butter; with natural flavor and other natural flavoring. What the  .  .  .  what does that even mean? “And other natural flavoring”. Twas but a lengthy day yesterday, beginning with a truly wonderful massage (!), and ending with my parting with my pet-sitting friends, Gertie and Took, when their facilitator returned home. Don’t say owner when referring to fur kids. We facilitate their lives, we give them a lovely home and keep them off the streets and mesas. Adopt shelter animals. Give them a good life. My point here is that I am going to proffer to myself some profound rest. The massage therapist stirred up and broke loose a shirt load of toxins. Lots of water, my son. Lots of water. The high from the massage lasted many hours, but came a point when the the muscles all teamed up on me and said “Hey! What’s the big idea?!” PTSD and entropy are greedy little schemers, processing Life energy as pain and tension, and they get riled when challenged. Habitual momentum is the nemesis of change, growth, and development, not to mention that it is also the scourge of evolution. No pain, no gain. Plus, the massage therapist is really really pretty, and she has a great smile. Skilled hands, and knowledge from copious experience. My level of self-care has been barely adequate for several years. I am changing that by beginning with a massage. I will repeat that every other week for a spell. Boy howdy I may even take a jaunt down to Ojo Caliente for a soak in the mineral baths. The therapist called it a vacation in one day. And the drive down the west rim of the Rio Grande Gorge is simply stunning, a feast for the eyes. She expressed concern about my left shoulder, which has been aching like the bejeezes for a few days now. And my neck. Microwave-safe neck wrap. Duh. Those probing fingers touched on some deeply painful knots and stuff, and there was one tendon that seemed  thoroughly pissed by the intrusion. All said, I am going to find a good movie to watch this afternoon, just hang and chill with my homies, the Ancestors. If a pooka also happens by, I am down with that dude. I know that pookas have a dark side dude, but I lately realized that Trickster Coyote is a kinda sorta pooka of America. You can’t get away from magick, once you plug in, there is no turning back.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Visit from Owl


“To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there. Freedom to dissolve; to lift off; to be like the flame of a candle, which, in spite of being up against the light of a billion stars, remains intact, because it never pretended to be more than what it is: a mere candle.”  ~  Don Juan Matus (Carlos Castaneda)

“I need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on.”  ~  Elizabeth Wurtzel

“Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way.”  ~  Kingsley Amis

“These poets and other creative persons are the ones who express being itself, he held. As I would put it, these are the ones who enlarge human consciousness. Their creativity is the most basic manifestation of a man or woman fulfilling his or her own being in the world.” ~  Rollo May

This warm morning has got me squirming a bit. Maybe it’s just the thought of mud? When I say warm I am referring to 35º at 5:48 AM. It just doesn’t feel right, yet I remind myself that I am a firm believer in the phrase “Nature makes no mistakes”. I suppose I could make some more coffee. That and some ibuprofen might be nice. Headache and body aches. The sore left shoulder remains a mystery. I have what the lovely physical therapist, Alicia, called a “piano key injury”. It without doubt came from a bicycle crash, I just don’t know which crash brought it on; one of four is about as accurate as I can be. But it rarely bothers me, except when reaching wrong, which might cause a twinge. But the past few days it has been painful to the point of my moaning more than I care to. At 62 years old I accept that a moan or two can be expected, but this shoulder had me going yesterday. Ouch. Poor me, right? Yeh. Luckily today is the big massage day. I say big because it has been seven maybe eight years since the last one.

“And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear to himself, “it’s Owl who knows something about something,” he said, “or my name’s not Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said. “Which it is,” he added. “So there you are.”  ~  Winnie the Pooh

The clouds have thickened and come lower. There is a close feeling to the minutes just before dawn. As I sat on the deck, just now, I was startled by a sound, an indistinct rustle that eased into the sound of a large bird taking flight from the utility shed on the other side of the yard. I’m guessing it had to be an owl at this time of the morning. I could see no more than a fleeting shadow against the sky. Good thrill, that one. Of course my mind goes straight to Totem Medicine. So I looked it up, and I found that the description resonates with where my head is at today. Good. Life without omens would be so trite. Certainly, the long association of Owl with death is something that might bother some folks. I’m not too concerned about that. And its association with dark magick? Same, same. But I should add that I pay more heed to the dark magick thingy, simply because I have a propensity for bumping into dark magick much more than I care too; it’s been that way for years. So dude is there like some bruja lurking dude? Yeh, on and off for months now, but she, or they, know better. I can get testy when my spiritual well-being is rattled. I can defend myself dude, k? Whatever, dude.

It is time to wrap up today’s post. The dawn is just begun and the day feels like a good one. I am both excited and nervous about the massage at 10 AM. The nervousness comes because a lot of the area where I will ask her to focus holds a bundle of trauma stored in muscle memory. A bundle like that is ripe pickings for PTSD, which I have. It comes from the bicycle accident back in ’84, which nearly killed me, or maybe actually did kill me and I came back. That’s when the NDE happened as well, which might suggest the latter is true. There was no one there to check me out when I went down, so there is no way of knowing. Regardless. The 33rd anniversary of that fateful day only mere weeks away. This time of year always makes me thoughtful, for that very reason. It is not a morose nor an enlightened feel of the season, it is a pulsing sense of wonder at this very thing that is life. Who doesn’t love a good mystery? It would not only be trite it would be tragically boring to know everything. And how are you today, Mr. Trump?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Any Day Above Ground

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“What’s new?” is an interesting and broadening eternal question, but one which, if pursued exclusively, results only in an endless parade of trivia and fashion, the silt of tomorrow.”  ~  Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

“Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.”  ~  William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

It’s an exciting morning; all weather stuff. My first step outside the front door revealed to me a world of wind, sound, and light. Moonlight from the nearly full Moon, the melodious roar of the wind rushing over everything, and moistness laid down on the ground, these things all greeted me, and I whispered “wow”. That is a remarkable beginning to the day. How many morning’s do you have like that? Where the first spoken word of the day is hushed, yet full of hyperbole-free wonder. How many? I’ve heard from many of a spiritual practice wherein one begins each day with an expression of gratitude, for whatever, for the gift of even waking up at all. Ya know, I’d hate to miss anything, but if I died in my sleep, and slipped on over into the next world, I hardly think it would be too inconvenient, nor even a bother whatsoever. Upon arrival in that Other World I would continue the practice, and express my gratitude for waking up at all. There’s a stock phrase I hear maybe two three, or four, times a week: “any day above ground is a good one”. Yeh, whatever. What does that even mean? Am I being iconoclastic here? I tend to be that way. Don’t take it personally. It’s not personal, and I have cultivated myself through the years to be prudent with the way I apply this character trait. No worries. So now I begin this new day with a wow. It is a work day. I enjoy my job, and even love it on many levels. One of the strongest ways I love it is that retail work is so sweetly interlaced with show biz. Ya gotta act and ya gotta entertain. Giving good service to the consumer gives exquisite entertainment; it shows you care. Who doesn’t like to see that? And being of service to others, like being grateful for life, is also a spiritual practice that’s hard to beat. Moving forward – hey! did I tell you I am getting a massage tomorrow? Regular readers will know that already. Thanks for reading, friends. I am very excited about the massage, even though I may melt on the table. I gotta note here that the past two days I have had a reader from Indonesia. Who knew, right. I hope you are reading here again today, my friend. I’d like that. How’s the weather over there? Geez, I had best get on with my day. The wind has laid down some, and the Moon has slipped down, then out of sight. It was almost like the Moon took some of the wind with her. I am grateful for such notions. Yes.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.