Occasional Stabbing Joys


“A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light.”  ~ Leonardo da Vinci

“One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.”  ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”  ~ Fredrick Nietzsche

“I dream my painting and I paint my dream.” ~ Vincent van Gogh

It’s been 2.5 hours, the headline on the Huffington Post hasn’t changed, so I think it’s safe to start writing. Rachel Maddow tried to pull me away from it, from the writing, with a 21 minute clip from last night’s show, but I managed to pull myself the other way, just in time. I was beginning to grok that Roger Stone’s presence at both Watergate and Russia-Gate is no coincidence. I knew it 18 months ago. Now I grok it. Thanks, Rachel, bud. Yer a pal, and you have my sincere, immense respect. I just love to watch your mind at work; Chris Hayes’ too; you guys are the bomb. Say, do Evangelical Republicans even know what grok means? Just sayin. Now, enough of that. Moving forward . . . I’m pretty sure that I experienced enlightenment during psychotherapy a coupla days ago. I can’t really say I achieved it, and I suspect this is because, in my understanding, if you had to actually achieve it, it ain’t real. But what is? So was it a dream? That would be moving in the right direction. It was some sort of tremor, during therapy. We were exploring my relationship with a woman I am very fond of. I won’t say whether she is past, present, or future, in my life. Love transcends time, k? I have felt true fondness toward maybe two dozen women in my 63 years. With most of them I have a good understanding as to how she fit/fits into my life. The one we were talking about the other day, not so much. I was doubting myself, my feelings, by trying to believe it is all a fantasy for me. But, no. The therapist said just that; she said no. She said, “No, you two obviously have a deep connection”. That’s when the tremor hit me, overriding my weak posture by taking me full upright in an instant. Wow. It wasn’t a flash, more of a gentle nudge, yet enfolded in the gentleness was an unmistakeable  –  what Madeleine L’Engle called  –  “occasional stabbing joy”. I saw, felt, whatever, the connection in full, and my . . . never mind. I asked the therapist. “Did you just see me tremor?”. Well, yes she did. I then told her that what I had seen upon that big, sweet, tremor, was that milady and I are here to teach each other something that can be learned through no one else. That kind of ambiguity would usually just piss me off, unless I was in a more expansive, spiritual state. But I ain’t pissed off this time dude. I’m like stoked from within dude. I just experienced the goddess, and she seemed to be saying “doesn’t this make you happy?”. At least she didn’t say to leave all this Love and Light stuff and get back to work. Oh! Speaking of getting back to work. I showed up at work right on time yesterday . . . and I had the day off. That made three days off in a row. Three in a row is not ideal for me, because my body and mind seem to think it is a vacation, then WHAM it’s like Lucy pulling back the football just as Charlie Brown’s foot takes a swing at it. Usually that third day would go to the writer in me, but the writer is usually overcome by serial sighing, and feeling so profoundly melancholy and existential and stuff, the writer starts to go in search of Rachel Maddow clips on the internet. Sigh.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.




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