Sweeter Than Good


“I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine”  ~  The Indigo Girls

My Facebook newsfeed is giving me the spins this morning. And I just made a second pot of coffee. It is shaping up rather well, this day. I’ve got the space heater on for the cat. There’s not enough a chill to merit having it run. It’s for the kitty, who is on her old fashion paper grocery bag on the floor, content as could be. I was just out on the deck in the dark, where the air temperature is a rather tepid 32º. My ears were pricked for the squeaky chatter of the skunk. No signs this morning, but I saw him two days ago. That is one honkin’ big skunk! Huge  .  .  .  huge!  .  .  .  you’ve never seen such a  .  .  .  friggin hyperbole really pisses me off! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? Thanks, yer a pal. It’s a rather odd mood that swaddles me this morning. The deeply underlying current is a blend of gratitude and wonder, interlaced with seeds of change, and beefed up with a little faith, which is there to increase stamina. Sounds like a smoothie for the soul. Geez, don’t get me started. The truth is I have been over-thinking existence, and that can’t end well. Just be, right? Let it be. Be like the river. Yeh, whatever. It’s all good, and it is even sweeter than it is good. See, there is magick in the air tonight. I know, it’s only 100 minutes til sunrise, but it is pitch dark, so I can call it night iffin I want to. I’ve still got that warming smile on my mind. And the Goddess in my heart as well. And that cat on the floor? The ancient Celts believed that cats are the guardians of souls. My cat does that for me. What more could I ask for? Moving forward, my intention for the tone of this morning’s blog post is one of sweetness. How’d I do?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


The Strange Attractor of the Day

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“Be wiser than most, be a child in your heart, be a sage in your mind and a mage with your hands. Feel hearts beating, hear the flapping of birds’ wings. Heal the broken, embrace the vulnerable. Speak to the living trees. Be pulled down by no one, and by nothing. This is how to be a Goddess.”   ~  C. Joybell C.

“If you come to think of it, what a queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don’t you know, if you see what I mean. At any moment you may be strolling peacefully along, and all the time Life’s waiting around the corner to fetch you one.”  ~  P. G. Wodehouse

It’s one of those mornings when life sits heavy and inert on my shoulders. Such a mood always changes when I leave the house to go to work. I am fortunate, I have the gift, to have a job I love to go to. There’s yer treasure right there. But for now, in this drabness, I still have reason to smile. The lovely Ondrea Levine likes to say, write, whatever, to “treasure yourself”. And I do, wherein I find a few delightful things come along with the bargain. Lucky me. One of those things is winking at me this morning. Moving forward, the dreaded illness that has been having its way with me for the duration of the week so far is on the run. It has left me queasy and humble; not to mention the lingering low-grade headache. I mean, WTF? And yet, I see the value of having an existential brigand pop out of the trees and commandeer the vessel on occasion. I am not one to regret illness. As the lovely Mr. Wodehouse pointed out, life fetched me one. It’s Nature’s way of saying slow the fuck down and get some rest.

“It’s nature’s way of receiving you
It’s nature’s way of retrieving you
It’s nature’s way of telling you
Something’s wrong”  ~  Randy California, Spirit

There’s a heaping helping of change and transformation on my plate these days, weeks, whatever. And I persevere as I climb, taking necessary breaks to huff and puff: take as needed. And then there is that Sisyphus fella. He just can’t keep up although I am out of shape and I’m like all dude get a grip dude, what’s gnarly is what helps you grow dude. I had a conversation recently that went deep pretty quick. I was telling about my transformation and somehow Jung and Joseph Campbell slipped in, and Icarus. This is Goddess energy at work, we decided. Turns out my primary Spirit guide is a Goddess, as if I could ever forget that. This is not New Age stuff. The world is larger than that, don’tcha know. What is going on with and within me is sourced in the shimmering pond rings that embellish the clearwater spring that lies in the Dreamtime just beyond my own perceptions and conceptions of just what She means in my Life. Does that make sense? Yeh, it does. It’s hard to describe this stuff without getting at least a little poetic and stuff. I used to write love songs, back in my singer/songwriter days. Those were some of the first shimmers and rings I tried. But those days are gone. I’m not a young fella but I am still a Dreamer. Look, here’s the thing about them old love songs. They were exemplary of the day for me. But these days I consider the prospect of saying to an attractive woman that I see the Goddess in her. Probly not wise. A brief wordless shared gaze would be appropriate, but the thing is that you gotta say something sooner or later. This is all academic, of course, which shows how I intercept Life Lessons from the Spirit World and think about them all too much. Yeh, somebody’s on my mind these days, and I am finding formidable the task of thinking about that thinking. This lesson, this strange attractor, is timeless, but the existential forces at play right now says it is time to get my strange attractor ass on down into town to go to work. Day job, right? Right.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Let It Run Free

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“I mean, you could claim that anything’s real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody’s proved it doesn’t exist!”  ~  J. K. Rowling

“Belief is the wound that knowledge heals.”  ~  Ursula K. Le Guin

“Humor can get in under the door while seriousness is still fumbling at the handle.”  ~  G. K. Chesterton

Coming up soon on sunrise. I’ve really no energy to pull out to many words right now. This is turning out to be a day of compulsory rest and relaxation. Some of the best days are like that. At least I’m hoping so. That said, I’ll leave activity for some other day. Two days at work while holding some respectable illness at bay has me wrung out. Time to let it run free while I take care of me; bad rhymes and all.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Besieged by Curiosity


“In a time of drastic change it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists.”  ~  Eric Hoffer

“We’re in a free fall into the future. We don’t know where we’re going. Things are changing so fast. And always when you’re going through a long tunnel, anxiety comes along. But all you have to do to transform your hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act. It’s a very interesting shift of perspective . . . Joyfully participate in the sorrows of the world and everything changes.”  ~  Joseph Campbell

This is going to be a brief post. I am besieged by curiosity this morning. That may seem an odd thing to say. But it works for me. Twas a night of fitful sleep, and it may be the illness doing it, but somehow my mind is at peace, regardless of the monkey mind chatter that seems to be running much faster than usual. Yes, I am way grateful that I had the good sense to go to urgent care two nights ago. I saved myself a lot of trouble. I still feel friggin awful this morning, but I have no notion to fight something that is running its course and will do soon its own good time. Next week it will all be but a memory. Suffice it to say that I feel in no way inconvenienced by being sick right now. I’ve got a pressing puzzle on my mind. It is a sweet puzzle indeed. I am about ready to launch into over analysis so I had better wrap this up before I do something so clearly useless. Thus is the nature of change today, for me. I feel excitement, somewhere down deep, beyond all the yuck and guck of this respiratory illness, and  .  .  .  ummmm, I guess what I mean to say is that I have indeed come to a peaceful phase where the dastardly urge to judge myself harshly, if at all, is conspicuously absent. I know purely what new thing in my life has brought this feeling on. Now it is time to simply watch this change unfold. It’s a workday. I love my job. So here I go.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Cupid’s Barrage and the Dreaded Mycoplasma


“Dreams and restless thoughts came flowing to him from the river, from the twinkling stars at night, from the sun’s melting rays. Dreams and a restlessness of the soul came to him.”  ~  Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

I love trains, don’t you? Today’s opening photograph is of the steam engine that drives the non-facsimile train from Antonito, Colorado to Chama, New Mexico. Back and forth, then back again. It’s a great tourist ride. I recommend it highly. If you can, schedule it at peak color in October. Just go, k? So it is Valentine’s Day and I hope you have that happy happy joy joy groove goin on. I had it yesterday morning, bounce in step and genuine grin, although my Valentine still ‘wanders in the mist, as do I’; a notion poetically described by Kahlil Gibran. Nevertheless, I already find that my inner adolescent has arisen to the occasion of my dreaming and he is like all dude thanks for the gift dude. You are most graciously welcome sir. Got any weed? Moving on. My bouncy grinning self was soon besieged by mycoplasma, a tiny tiny bacteria that left me woozy in my WTF condition. I won’t go into the pathology of it all. Suffice it to say that I feel like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag this morning; alas, the doxycycline has only begun the counter-seige. But Cupid doth still keep firing arrows at me, copiously. Cupid is an interesting god. Son of Venus and Mars. All is fair in love and war, right? Fair Cupid is a lovely traveling companion as I walk into the day. I could legitimately call in sick, I’ve got a doctor’s excuse. But I want to go to work. I love people these days. Spring fever? Yeh, maybe. That’s doable. I am short of word today, a condition that is directly attributable to my physical condition. But love or something like it is a great immune system booster. So, in that regard I must now step out into the world, with with a suppressed bounce in my step and a weary grin on my face. It’s a beautiful day, my friends. Simply lovely, in spite of the fact that I still wander in the mist. The mist, in Celtic lore, is where the material world commingles with the world of Spirit. I can’t think of a better place to be right now. Sweet.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Socrates and the Humping Dog


“The phenomenon of emergence takes place at critical points of instability that arise from fluctuations in the environment, amplified by feedback loops.”  ~  Fritjof Capra

“I love to close my eyes a moment and think of the land outside, white under the mingled snow and moonlight — the heaps of stones by the roadside white — snow in the furrows. Mon Dieu! How quiet and how patient!”  ~  Katherine Mansfield

Check out that second opening quote, right? I mean, Mon Dieu! indeed. There’s about two inches of the white stuff on the deck, so I’ll have to venture out to the car early, before first light, to check it out and see what I have to deal with in getting out and down the driveway when I go to work. Shoveling is unlikely, but you never know. And the roads going into town? I’ll use that same aphorism: “you never know”. I mean, it’s a spiritual truth. Word is that Socrates said “I know that I know nothing”, when the fact is that he said no such thing; it was reported by Plato – but no, wait, there’s more! He didn’t put that in writing, but he did write something, in writing about Socrates, that was kinda sorta saying that. As for me, I have never read any Socrates, and I’ve only glanced over Plato. My dad has a set of classical philosophy books that he bought at the A&P store where he and mom shopped each Saturday. The books came out once a month, one at a time. But really, just to set the record straight, mom actually did the shopping. Dad would go over to Cluny’s bar for coffee. I suspect he had more than coffee, but you never know, do you. As for Plato, I’d only dabbled in his writing before I got sidetracked by Marcus Aurelius. I do tend toward stoicism. It got me through my ten year stint at the natural food supermarket, until I finally lost my patience and turned into Abbie Hoffman, who once stood on a balcony in the New York Stock Exchange and let loose large amounts of one dollar bills, and he watched as the super-rich speculators in hand-tailored suits scrambled for the cash. That says a lot. If you believe Elizabeth Warren, things ain’t changed too much over the past fifty years. Now, moving forward  .  .  .  I saw my friend and soul brother Anthony, yesterday afternoon at the laundromat. Anthony is a “true blood” from Taos Pueblo. We used to work together at the animal shelter, where he had been employed for sixteen years. He was the senior staff member, and I was second in duration at just over one year. That says a lot, right? Yeh, buddy, it sho do. When I started there I was assigned to work out in ‘the pods’ where all of the troubled, recalcitrant, and beyond hope dogs were housed. It was scary out there but I managed. There was one dog, a large and lanky pit mix, who weighed out at about 70 pounds. His name was Nemo. Nemo had a glitch of instinct that made him compulsively try to hump people. After a while I figured out that the easiest way to get him out of his cage and into a cleaning kennel was to not fight it, to just let him hump away at my right leg as I walked him out to the the outer kennel. It was good exercise to lift my right leg repetitively with a 70 pound pit bull/terrier mix trying to inseminate my knee. But back to Anthony. He was helping his daughter do her laundry. The friggin place was packed, and peeps were waiting for driers not in use. I was one of the waiters, as was Anthony. At one point he came over and told me, in reference to the task of waiting for a free machine, “I feel like a hawk waiting for a rabbit”. I liked what he said very much. I, however, felt like a kestrel waiting for a grasshopper. Same difference, right? Yeh, right. Which brings me back to the present, after a brief feedback loop, which is a loop that is necessary when dealing with memories. No life event is ever actually gone. All that changes is the way you see it, perceive it, whatever. I’ll paraphrase Albert Einstein here: time is an illusion, albeit it a very persistent one. Or maybe he was talking about reality, not time. Boy howdy, where’d the time go. It’s time for me to meander out to check the snow in the driveway.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Bright Dreams and Breathing Room

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“Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any consequences.”  ~  Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

“The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.”  ~  Barbara Kingsolver

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”  ~  Pablo Neruda

Dag nab it, it’s getting late; and the Sun has not even risen yet. I could grumble if I felt like making any kind of expressive and guttural sound but I don’t. I could launch into an endless run-on sentence and then end it even though I said I wouldn’t. I could do one of those exquisite David Foster Wallace-like run-on sentences, just to prove that literary technique ain’t all text book stuff and all that happy horseshit. Yeh, I could get all profane and stuff as well. Here’s the thing. I woke up at 4:30 AM. Late for me. It’s like sleeping in except I got the full eight as is recommended by someone somewhere. And the bulk of my available free time since then has been occupied by me watching video clips from last night’s Saturday Night Live. I mean, really? Really?! It has come to this? I’m a child of the sixties, a “Child of Eisenhower“. A Baby Boomer, right? The world is coming to an end. A friend told me so, just yesterday. Illuminati stuff. A book on the shelf in the local library whispered to him, telling him so. Youtube videos. David friggin Ickes and countless effectively anonymous conspiracy preachers on Youtube as well. You can learn a lot there but why bother. He snuck up behind me in the video store yesterday as I was perusing the “recommended” shelf. My friend has mental health issues. Well so do I. I can’t imagine why. It’s not like the world is ending or anything. It’s not. Trust me on that.

“Safe at harbor, everything is easy
Off to starboard, daylight comes up fast
Now I’m restless for the open water
Red flags are flying from the Coast Guard mast”  ~  Billy Joel

I am just back in from checking out the Sacred mountain which sits yonder next to the place that the Sun will rise over Pueblo Canyon. Oscar the turkey, perched atop the chicken coup, sees me coming through the gate in the chicken fence and he’s like all happy to see me and stuff. And the wind. Wow. Weather Underground, which is a cool website, says 15 knots, mph, whatever, but they ain’t out in that wind and I am. It’s more than that. Trust me. Yeh, there’s a storm front rolling in and the preliminary display of force is formidable. Snow tonight, they say. Bring it on. It’s easy to get restless at times like these. But I almost always am, anyway, except maybe on the massage table. When I woke up this morning I was still 62 years old, and now, two hours later, nothing has changed. What’s with this righteous indignation about the political climate? I don’t get it. They still say that Hillary Clinton would have been worse. Why do they keep saying that?! I guess it’s easier to be smug when the point of your contention is now an empirical impossibility. Whatever. My indignation ain’t much to work with anyway. Maybe it’s just a holdover or a flashback from the Summer of my high school graduation. Nixon and Watergate, and I escaped getting drafted and going to Viet Nam as cannon fodder, just by the hair of my chinny chin chin. Geez, I need to calm down. Ummmm, it’s actually time to go check out the sunrise to see if there’s a good photo op going on. Busy backson.

“It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone. Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world exists. A world lives within you. No one else can bring you news of this inner world.”  ~  John O’Donohue


There was no color to the sunrise this morning, save for gray. Gray is good. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not writing from a depressive state here. I’ve not felt any real depression for at least one month. This is good. Above you see Oscar the turkey wondering what the heck I am doing with my hands. I snapped the shot just a few minutes ago on my way back in from my sunrise observation. Now it’s time to feed then medicate the cat. I’ll be headed to the Pinch Penny Laundromat in a while. Laundry needs done. My laundromat reading will be John O’Donohue’s Anam Cara. Something uplifting, something that can and will haul me up out of this existential funk. I plan on making this a good day. Yeh, there’s a woman on my mind, as well as a feeling of hope in regards to our unfolding national tragedy. I believe in the great shift of consciousness that so many folks say is coming. We are all in a period of high stress; we as a nation. That’s the kind of thing, this high stress, that move us into a higher realm. But I am going to wrap myself up in my personal world today, to heal and stuff. I’ve got me some bright dreams and breathing room these days. You can do a lot with tools like that.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Clear Skies and Confused Cranes


“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”  ~  Pema Chödrön

“From where we stand the rain seems random. If we could stand somewhere else, we would see the order in it.”  ~  Tony Hillerman

There was this guy, see, just yesterday, who told me the weather is broken, while I stood in a fog of incredulity behind the checkout counter at the hardware store. He had just expressed his pleasure at the fact that it has lately been uncommonly warm, yet another cold spell is on the way, and that he had only yesterday seen a flock of sandhill cranes heading north. He went on to say he wondered if because of the coming cold snap the lovely birds just might turn around and hightail it back south. I thought he was trying to be humorous and commented that I thought that was likely not to happen, presenting that commentary with a note of lighthearted irony. The dude just looked at me, deadpan, and asked, “Do you really think so? I mean, the weather is broken”. Wow. I just a few minutes ago looked up the weather stats for this time last year. Pretty much the same as this year. I reckon the weather was broken last year as well, but my base contention is that Mother Nature makes no mistakes; like Donald Trump.

“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me quite nervous.”  ~  Oscar Wilde

Where does that leave us? Looks like I have finally successfully defeated the skunk who was sneaking into the chicken coop nightly for a few days. That’s good. Now I have the weekend off, which is both a challenge and a delight. We’ll see. What am I going to do with it? I just said what; we’ll see. I have something on my mind that needs attention, and a body that needs both rest and wilderness experience. I was talking about hiking with the massage therapist the other day, while I was face down on the table. She has recently been up to the extreme high country, to Williams lake, which is at a tad more than 10,000 feet. I, however, have not been out on a trail since late Summer. Think it’s time? Yeh. We’ll see. Weather is right nice today. Maybe. Yeh, maybe.

“The weather and my mood have little connection. I have my foggy and my fine days within me; my prosperity or misfortune has little to do with the matter.”  ~  Blaise Pascal

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


A Conspiracy of Hope


What’s up with these birds?!?!

“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.”  ~  Richard Bach,  Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“How can a deer tell when a leaf falls silent in the forest? She hears it breathing differently.”  ~  Richard Bach, Running from Safety

Coyote whoops, yonder in the direction of the Full Moon, which sits just above a wall of clouds that seem to be held tight by the Rio Grande Gorge, a short six miles to the west. The gorge does that at times, holds on to clouds. Mine is a groggy morning at the beginning a workday, and I feel exhausted. It’s not just having had less sleep than usual. It is in part, at least, because Moon Cat here threatened to keep me awake all the rest of the night after I awoke at 11:30 PM after four hours of sleep. I finally felt anger rising so I capitulated and gave her a small crunchy snack. It’s the Full Moon. My cat is an animal. Sometimes the Moon doesn’t affect her that much, but this time it is; that’s why I call her Moon cat this morning. But I did finally get another couple of hours more sleep. There’s gratitude for ya. Anyway, it’s all life, right? I mean the work day. I’ll do my best to not view it as an inconvenience. I used to work in a convenience store. It was anything but! Don’t get me wrong. I’m just being playful here, I meant no irony when I mentioned the gratitude. Twas the cat who was grateful. I merely fell right to sleep. Now, moving forward. I met a friend for lunch yesterday afternoon. I so rarely get out, beyond going to my job, that there was a note of mildly startling refreshment to the afternoon after that. The cafe was over in Arroyo Seco, about 15 minutes east of here, but that’s just geography. Seco is beyond quaint. Just sayin. It was good to catch up with her. She’s one of my old cat buddies from the animal shelter. At one point in a conversation that was predominantly personal stuff she found the time to concur that cats have as rich of an inner life as we humans do. Once again  .  .  .  just sayin. Friends are so very good for the soul. Now, backtracking here, another reason for my exhaustion is really a good one. Wednesday I had a massage, the third one now. There is a progression to that therapy that is catching me frequently off guard. I’ve been building those knots and bad postures for many a year now. Setting my old body free after such a time, and finding that now the old can only serve as a sort of instructor to the new  .  .  .  well, let’s just say that it is taking some getting used to. Then yesterday, Thursday, I had a psychotherapy session. We are talking sculpture here. A new phase of my life is at hand. I want to be creative about it, to do as much as I can to make it shine as much as is possible. The massage reworks the body and the psycho stuff reworks the mind. Emotions are another thing altogether. I’m trying to kick some old habits that feed my emotions in a negative way; things like romantic fantasy and unfounded paranoia. Those are just two of several I could list here. What I am talking about is  .  .  .  I’ve run out of writing time for the day. Fantasies are not dreams, and paranoia need not be a negative thing. Sometimes the world conspires to make things brighter.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Evoking That Inner Grin


“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

“In everyone’s life, there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, you can be as you really are. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. Understanding nourishes belonging. When you really feel understood, you feel free to release yourself into the trust and shelter of the other person’s soul.”  ~  John O’Donohue

So, what’s with all of the O’Donohue quotes these past few days? I can’t rightly say. All I know is that a few days ago I suddenly felt drawn to the fella’s words and ideas. Themes, expressions, whatever. He comes from a deeply Celtic background. I have Celtic blood, and after reading a delicious book by Frank MacEowen, The Mist-Filled Path, I kinda fell right into that world view, although I also realized that I was in pretty deep already. This new interest in John O’Donohue came out of the blue. Yes, I have been aware of and a little familiar with his work for several years now. Tis an Earth-based spiritually. Ooops, I almost wrote “technology” rather than “spirituality”. See how I am? They have a lot in common, but I won’t go into that. This new phase of interest, underscored by the spontaneous calling to check out this Irish writer  .  .  .  well, it is a calling. So I downloaded a Kindle copy of his most famous book and started reading, and boy howdy did I ever do the right thing! Dude’s got cadence and poetry all wrapped up in some mighty fine prose. Hey, listen, this is much more than philosophy, yet philosophy is a necessary part of the deal. This is soul stuff. A way of relating to the world when materialism (thankfully) loses its grip a bit. There’s nothing wrong with that. On the contrary. This, for me, is when the Dreamtime seeps in and evokes that inner grin in this old boy. Like now. I remember once seeing the face of a beautiful and serene woman, at close range, and her face was embellished with the golden wavy hair, quite radiant, that framed her face. At close range as well. An intimate experience, yes, but a connection, direct and hardwired, with the Divine Feminine as well, and yet there was also the interaction of two quite human beings. It was not to my knowledge romantic. It was a fleeting spell of communion. A memory like that is hard to shake, and why the friggin heck would you ever want to shake it, right? Right. This all comes down to feelings. Longing, Shaping, Hearth and Heart. All keys in Celtic lore. I don’t know why that close encounter with that woman is with me this morning, but I do know that the memory has me feeling all warm and cozy and stuff. This warmth will come in handy, since my body is all aches this morning, yet loose. Yesterday’s massage turned out to be a furtherance of a healing process that was first known to me in a much too academic manner, and the nature of my knowledge is now shifting into finer realms, of physicality, of creaturehood, feelings, spirituality, and all of that happy stuff. The massage therapist is skilled, and as she was doing some work at the base of my neck I felt a non-corporeal ‘click’ as a rare proactive manifestation of PTSD kicked in. I got all weepy and stuff, for the PTSD was sourced in the depth of the feelings within the bicycle crash and NDE back yonder in 1984. That’s where I am today. A psychotherapy session at noon followed by a coffee date with a lovely and bright young woman who was one of my cat care comrades back in the animal shelter days. Then back home to let the body lay still while I watch something mindless on the TV, internet, whatever. Stillness is another Celtic core quality. Hey, I’m fixin ta slip into a New Agey pedanticism that I simply am unwilling to traverse today.  I ain’t come to preach, just to share.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.