Three Brushes With Death


“Try not to become a man of success. Rather become a man of value.”  ~  Albert Einstein

“It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.”  ~  Herman Melville

“Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.”  ~  Winston Churchill

“One of the lessons that I grew up with was to always stay true to yourself and never let what somebody else says distract you from your goals. And so when I hear about negative and false attacks, I really don’t invest any energy in them, because I know who I am.”  ~  Michelle Obama

That is so cool, Michelle, you just defined integrity. Now, I am referring to the fourth quote above. I have no idea why I opened with quotes dealing with integrity, so don’t ask. Yes, I feel a tad grouchy this morning. It is easy to blame it on the cat because she woke me up an hour before the alarm was set to go off. Bad kitty, right? I got up anyway. Her crankiness almost always overrides my grouchiness. Anybody who lives with a cat will know what I am talking about . . .  So, now, moving forward . . . that salamander at the door at three AM (see yesterday’s post) will likely haunt me for some time to come. I think if it had been way smaller it would have been easier to take. In a way I can compare it to the time, back when I first moved to Taos, I found two mountain lions standing in front of me on the road, up in the alpine realms. Yeh, such things exist. It’s simply that the possibility of seeing one just isn’t in your awareness until it happens. The story of the lions has no place here today. Suffice it to say that I obviously lived through the encounter unscathed. But I still wonder it. There is no exaggeration involved in my saying them two big kitties coulda had me for lunch. The impression from that encounter is one that was etched into my soul. I can’t say that the salamander did the same. The lions were 22 years ago, the salamander just yesterday. Nuff said. This morning is rich in sensuous offerings. We live our own stories, and opportunities for plugging in to the magick in life are abundant. Some opportunities offer easier access than others. I gotta say here that being plugged into your computer or having your face stuck in your smartphone betrays such access. That’s why I get up from this chair and go outside periodically. Coyotes are on the hunt this morning. Their calls are coming from seemingly everywhere, on and off. Some neighborhood dogs have been having their say as well. I gotta hand it to them. When the song of life plays anyone can join in. I could take this into the realm of current events but . . . okay, maybe briefly. I feel a kind of sadness to witness so much condemnation in the world. And what I’m getting at . . . I’ll keep this short . . . is that the Right Wing in this country has spent the last eight . . . make that nine now . . . years dragging President Obama through the proverbial coals, but now we’uns all gotta shut up and tow the line with Trump, who is our first artificial president, thanks to the Russians. And here’s why Trump’s paper towel stunt felt so personal to me. Yesterday morning I got an unexpected call from one of my dearest friends. She was calling from Puerto Rico where she has lived for many years now, where sporadic cell phone access now makes such calls possible. We got cut off once, then she called back a half hour later and we were able to catch up. She’s got running water but no electricity yet. Her husband died a few days ago. He was already sick and in the hospital when the storm hit, but he died, she says, because the strain of it all had just overcome his heart. My friend is Puerto Rican. She was born in New York City. She would have been American either way. I could almost hate Trump for what he did, but I know well that hatred makes me sick. Take that comment as you will. I ain’t going there. The last bit of pertinent news was that she is moving back to the mainland to be with her only child, her daughter. I remember when the pregnancy was underway. We all lived on Windley Key, on a nice plot of land nestled up against the open ocean. She and I used to have coffee in the morning fairly often. She was there for me when I went all otherworldly after my near-fatal bicycle crash and NDE. A few years earlier, when I was hit by a car – again on my bicycle – she felt a sharp pain in her left leg that lingered for hours afterward. She was not present to witness the accident, but my left leg was broken by the impact, and the fracture was exactly where she felt the pain in her own leg. Oh yeh, the near-fatal crash happened on her birthday. All this needed to be said. Now I gotta get to my day job.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


One thought on “Three Brushes With Death

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s