An Exquisite Sensation


“Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. Attention is vitality.  It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.”  ~ Sharon Salzberg

“I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.” ~ Hermann Hesse

“It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

The best part of Summer so far is the cool nights and the darkness of morning. That darkness is fading into light, and I can see that rising light through gap between the curtains, and through a dusty window screen. Is this apprehension I feel? This rising light indicates that within hours it will be hot. Bring it on. The heat ain’t so bad, I suppose. Maybe I’m just being cranky? Likely so. I could go all cynical as well.  But a sweet day is what I choose. Laundry, for one thing. Therapy at noon. Then a quiet afternoon with the cat. And soak up some sunlight at some point along the way. I’ve come to notice that letting pure sunlight shine on the back of my always stiff and sore neck is an exquisite sensation. Who knew, right? Little things. That’s today. All small.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously


The Intentional Flashback


“Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.” ~ Oliver Sachs

“Seven o’clock
In the morning here it comes I taste the warning
And I’m so amazed I’m here today
Seeing things so clear this way
In the car and on my way to Stonehenge” ~ Graham Nash, “Cathedral”

“If you don’t know the blues there’s no point in picking up the guitar and playing rock and roll or any other form of popular music.” ~ Keith Richards

Have you ever heard a mockingbird singing in the night? They do it. It’s the darnedest thing. There was one singing sparsely, just up the hill from here, about an hour ago. Now, he’s gone quiet. There is the ticking of my Baby Ben alarm clock, and the rather too dense micro-shreek of ringing and hissing in my ears, head, whatever. Plenty of sound to be heard. In one way of seeing it is all music. Music is a force that is singing this whole shouting match into existence. Whispering, loving, giving — it doesn’t have to be shouting, but much too often it seems there is a pathological level of shouting in the world, which is to say that those who shout but have no healthy need to shout seek to drown out those who need to shout from the Primal depths, as expression goes, because of the conditions of their lives. Now that is healthy. Ya gotta get it out. That’s what the blues is all about.

I had the day off yesterday; work today; off tomorrow. Grabbed a short nap late in the afternoon, but last night’s dreams seemed to be charged with psychic activity. A mind moving in ways unaccustomed. It’s the moving that holds the key. Without movement dreams go stale, if they occur at all. Stuff gets locked in. Soooo . . . . last night’s sleep, flushed with movement, was not the most fulfilling sleep. I don’t remember if the dreams were from anxiety or creation, but either way it’s what I have to work with. Yesterday changed a lot for me, rearranged stuff. The mundane part was that I filled out some paperwork. The person helping me through the simple process also gave me a questionnaire to fill out. It was basically a PTSD diagnostic questionnaire. Turns out I have PTSD, but I knew that. Rather strongly so. This work yesterday was verification. So what was it? The PTSD: what does it matter? I was applying for a “green card”, which is to say a medical marijuana card. I’ll qualify. No worries there. The hard part was that besides the questionnaire there was also a spoken interview, in which I recounted the events that set PTSD in motion, and made it a pervasive component in my life. I told her, during the interview, that I am a scardy cat, that I’m always afraid — which is true. The whole process got me stirred up, because in revealing what happened back then I had to rip open a few layers of feelings to get to the details. In a small way I had to relive the experience, to create my own intentional flashback. But that small way has large implications. Those implications point to the fact that something horrific happened to me back then. The application for a card provided validation of the experience, and boy howdy was I ever deeply moved. Gratitude . . . . and, of course, fear. Give it about 2.5-3 weeks, she said. Certified mail, down to Santa Fe. Then wait. I feel no eagerness to speak of. It’s a relief sorta feeling. And one of awe. I think I’ll leave rationality out of it for now. Yesterday was an adventure; a painful one, which colored my subsequent afternoon with rich, vivid emotions. And I had to go through the local dispensary to get to the interview. Interesting place. Smells good in there. Geez, I think I’ll get an early start for now. A bit of grooming never hurts. It is a workday. Back to the daily world. Whatever that means.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Welcome Morning Fog


“Everest silences you…when you come down, nothing seems worth saying, nothing at all. You find the nothingness wrapping you up, like a sound. Non-being. You can’t keep it up, of course. the world rushes in soon enough. What shuts you up is, I think, the sight you’ve had of perfection: why speak if you can’t manage perfect thoughts, perfect sentences? It feels like a betrayal of what you’ve been through. But it fades; you accept that certain compromises, closures, are required if you’re to continue.” ~ Salman Rushdie

“Something was badly amiss with the spiritual life of the planet. Too many demons inside people claiming to believe in God.” ~ Salman Rushdie

“Be quiet, darling. Let pattern recognition have its way.” ~ William Gibson

It would take little effort to write it all off to the Full Moon, and I may end up doing that, in the long run. I’m all clarity, looking out through some numb window, no desire to engage, but you have to keep a watchful eye, these days. The Moon is full in Sagittarius, and seems to be sitting in my 1st house. Can’t rightly say what that means, as I sit here, still in a welcome morning fog. Maybe later. Yeh, maybe. Maybe words will come later. They always do . . . . soooo . . . . I guess “maybe” is not the right word.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Strange, Special Air

Blue Light.jpg

“There are landscapes in which we feel above us not sky but space. Something larger, deeper than sky is sensed, is seen, although in such settings the sky itself is invariably immense. There is a place between the cerebrum and the stars where sky stops and space commences, and should we find ourselves on a particular prairie or mountaintop at a particular hour, our relationship with sky thins and loosens while our connection to space becomes solid as bone.” ~ Tom Robbins

“Any great art work … revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world – the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air.” ~ Leonard Bernstein

“Might we begin then to transform our passing illuminations into abiding light?”  ~ Huston Smith

The day is rushing at me but I will not flinch. Bring it on. Memorial Day, big day in retail, which is where I am headed, wondering what the heck got into me. Gainful employment, that’s what. It will be fun. I love my job. Now . . . . I feel maybe too peaceful for the coming show, but that may come in handy, there amidst the retail madness. That so many of the purchases have to do with gardening, with growing new life, injecting light into the works . . . it is a balm for the burn of . . . . let’s just say it gets pretty hectic out there. On a holiday there are more tailgaters on the road, and elsewhere. Travel safe, have a good time. Wow. I have the urge to drift toward cynicism. But I don’t want to go there. I have stuff to do. Something got me off into a spiritual bent, just about an hour ago. It was an article by Andrew Sullivan, who is a columnist for New York Magazine. Click here if you are interested. I know Sullivan from “Realtime With Bill Maher”, from his being a panelist on occasion, back when I could still watch the show, due to having satellite television and all. Those were the days, right? Whatever. He’s a moderate Republican. I always loved to hear what he had to say. Kinda reminds me of Christopher Hitchens in a way, in that his intellect shows without being forced. He ain’t no poser. He also reminds me, in a way, of Salman Rushdie, for the same reason. All of those men were occasional guests on Bill Maher’s show. I need intellectual stimulation like I need water. I have a thrust, thirst, whatever, for it, and it soothes me deeply. When I am tangled in the middle of an active phase of PTSD one of the first things I do is head for some heady stuff. The light of reason is one thing that casts a light into the dark space that PTSD creates. Anyway, the article I read was about why we should legalize psychedelic drugs. Yes, really. That’s what surprised me about the article — much of what Sullivan wrote about was the spiritual aspects, of the predominance of love that psychedelics reveal, to be the seeming basis for all being. Not doing; that’s the realm of the ego. Being, just being. That’s where the love is at. Andrew makes a case for the positive effects that psychedelics provide, as a ‘reconstructor’ of sorts, that loosens up the steely grip of ego, and of social anxiety, all wrought from the busy busy gotta git it done world in which we live. Red bull, anyone? That balm, that light of love, is spiritual, not religious. Religion is about Light and Love; spiritualism is the real thing it’s own self — pure, clear — not referential. That strange, special air of Being. Sigh. Alas, I am out of time, and must go look at the sunrise over the sacred mountain. Then I gotta shower and stuff. Then I gotta dive in to the real world out there. No Red Bull, thank you very much. I’m sure I can handle it. Maybe with a cup of hot black dark roast Starbuck’s for lunch. Ummmm — with lunch. Whatever comes, it is going to be a day. There I go . . . .

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Glint of Shimmering Mischief


“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.” ~ Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

“The domestic cat is a bit of a contradiction. It freely accepts human friendship while never allowing even the most contented life to dim its sense of who it is and what it is capable of.”  ~ Ellen Dugan, The Enchanted Cat

“The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.” ~ Ted Hughes

Sometimes, all it takes for me to feel the magick of the night is to have an unruly pocket of wind pass through the trees. Trees dance in the wind. They are built for it. There is no straight and honest tree. A tree without a twist or two is no more than a flagpole, stiff and unyielding. Willows always bend in the wind. We all know that. And if you think that I just snuck in a political metaphor, you are correct. Metaphors are open to interpretation. Use them wisely. That’s what I say. The wind picked up about an hour ago, and played around for 20 minutes or so, conspiring with the trees to make new songs. Now it is still again, for the most part. There are still the occasional chaotic pockets passing through, although less frequent with the approach of the Sun.

All’s calm since sunrise. It doesn’t feel like a holiday weekend to me, but it is. I’m not big on holidays, having come of age in the resort industry. You work when others play, and play again when others work. Period. That doesn’t mean you don’t have fun. Having fun at work is something to which I have long aspired. It’s not so hard to do. Soooo . . . . today is a workday, and I so rarely work on Sunday that I feel some excitement about it. Shorter shift and a different vibe altogether. People who are going to watch burgers and brats sizzle on the grill they just purchased. And people who will be broadcasting grass seed, or setting forth to trap or kill some vermin. But, enough of that. The cat is down on the floor to my right. She just munched down some insect, or maybe an arachnid. The latter is more likely the case. She loves her some spiders. I disdained writing that last sentence. Don’t know why I gave in and included such a graceless aphorism. Aphorisms can be graceful, so come on peeps. Try harder. You can do better, k? Just sayin’. Now, going forward, it’s that smile again, this time with just a glint of shimmering mischief. That was new to me, and I found that although the target of a tease I, while suddenly and unaccountably embarrassed, found myself savoring the moment, which has lasted much longer than it is designed to last. Moments should be moments, right? Not long drawn out wordless narratives. Maybe this is something else. There’s no good in reading into what happened. It was simply a delicious pleasure to see something that was until that moment hidden. Thank you, m’am. Much obliged. On that note I’m gonna get on to it; feed the cat and chickens. Then shave and shower. Then jump into a day, soon immersed in the energetic flurries, into the hasty accomplishment of pleasure. But I’ll be most honored when I haul my assets back home afterward. I’ve got a fresh package of brats in the fridge. They won’t be grilled, but what the heck. Drink a pint to two of ale, still tantalized by that tease, and baffled by my embarrassment in that moment. I hope it was charming. She most certainly was.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Lean Back into the Day


“Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. If you can bend space you can bend time also, and if you knew enough and could move faster than light you could travel backward in time and exist in two places at once.” ~ Margaret Atwood

“One of the great disadvantages of hurry is that it takes such a long time.” ~ G. K. Chesterton

“Creativity is the residue of time wasted.” ~ Albert Einstein

Yesterday it was the skunk who set the pace. It was a struggle for me to wrestle the pace back down to calmness after getting a couple of body rushes from two encounters in the early morning darkness. Come sunrise I took the liberty of grabbing the animal repellent spray and liberally dousing the hole where the skunk gets under the deck. No signs of the animal this morning. Last spray lasted about three weeks. This may take time. This morning I’ve been finding myself first cold, then hot, then, finally, consistently cold. I came to realize that in my firm assumption that Summer is indeed here at last I still had the window open, and it was none too warm outside. I closed it, then turned on the space heater for a few minutes, against the chill. It’s all mundane stuff for today, and I’d like to keep it that way because it is a workday, at the beginning of a holiday weekend, and I’ll be spending three out of four days among Muggles. Believe it or not that is sometimes the best place to go looking for magic, which I’m not, but if I was? It would be all too easy to just lean back into the day, and since I don’t really know what that means or entails I may well end up doing that very thing. Let’s not get philosophical about it, k? I would prefer any brushes with philosophy today to be serendipitous. I’ve spent nearly too much time in the past two weeks peeling back a couple of layers of static reality, onion-like. Necessary stuff in this quest for healing the traumas of, from, whatever, the past. Why not give that stuff all a rest for a spell? That’s what I say. Boy howdy I’m liking to idea of that. A holiday weekend might be the perfect time to do so. At least it will be after I am done with it.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Solitude Interrupted


“Once a fool had a good part in the play,
If it’s so would I still be here today?
It’s quite peculiar in a funny sort of way,
They think it’s very funny everything I say.
Get a load of him, he’s so insane
You’d better get your coat dear
It looks like rain.” ~ Bernie Taupin and Elton John

Moods come and go. It’s like what one of my favorite songwriters and musical inspirations, Rodney Crowell, called “it’s only weather passing through”. Yeh, to a point, but it’s a good point. I don’t know, I live with what some call a mood disorder (why don’t they spell that word ‘dysorder’ rather than disorder? Just sayin’). Sometimes it is hard to tell iffin a particular mood swing, dive, ascent, whatever, is illness-born or just bein’ kinda like human or something. Trust me, it’s not the same. Sometimes it don’t actually swing at all, it just kinda appears, like something beamed down from a Romulan Warbird. Then what? Call Commander Data to get a logical analysis of the phenomenon? Whatever. It is what it is. Live with it dude. And cheer up, there’s a lot of good in the world. True, that. But it is a good idea to find your Inner Data to keep a hold of your rational functions. Now, going forward, yesterday had both good and bad. The bad, which also had a good side, was that I barely escaped being sucked into a sorta black hole when one of my triggers got tripped, and the old demon PTSD started in on me. I instantly felt the trigger and headed it off at the pass. Don’tcha jest love them western film allusions? I don’t care for westerns, but they do have their good points. Anyway . . . the good part was that my self-traing worked as needed: I tackled the demon and wrestled it to the ground. And it then ran off like a skunk with his tail between his legs – fortunately. The good part of the day was that I forgot that I had traded shifts at work, so when I forgot, the memory lapse caused me to show up 90 minutes early. I decided to use the time to take a drive up into the mountains, up to U.S. Hill. There’s a scenic overlook up there that is the last place I took mom for an outing, ten days before she died. I intended to sit up there with a cup of coffee, (I left my travel mug, coffee and all, up there!) to vibe in to the memories, and to see where they might take me. Maybe mom would give me a sign of her presence in Spirit. On top of that I wanted to be left to my scenic solitude. At one point I stood up from the little wooden bench to take some photos. I was facing down into town, which was partially visible from those many miles away, when I heard a vehicle (turned out to be two) approach behind me. Shit, there goes the solitude, I thought. So I snapped another couple of photos, then turned around to have a look see at who had arrived. Gulp. It was two fancy cars filled with about ten or so beautiful teenage girls all in short-shorts or short skirts. My DNA kicked in, but I, mostly, kept my composure. I did gaze, perhaps a little to long, if you go by good manners. They swarmed over to the bench on the deck, to behold the breathtaking view. Ummmm . . . . the other breathtaking view. Whatever, I went to the guardrail and took a couple more photos. When I turned back around one one girl – tall, blond, blue eyes, short . . . . ahem. Anyway, she asked me if I would take a group photo. “Yes, ma’m, I will”. She handed me a camera. Needless to say, I was buoyant for a few hours after that, which probably accounts for my narrow escape from a panic attack, later in the day. On the drive back into town I said “wow” a few times. Were the girls a sign from mom? If so, what does it mean, other than “Why so serious, son”? Here’s the photo I took right before I was interrupted.


Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Sometimes Quotes Are Good


Just a few quotes today from writers and thinkers I admire and consider to be prime inspirations. I have some severe upper back and shoulder pain since yesterday, so I don’t have much focus to write this morning. Massage tomorrow morning, psychotherapy at noon, lunch, Netflix, and and a couple pints after that. Rest — good stuff. Oh! Don’t forget the king-sized heating pad and lots of water. I would like to make one political comment. It is now crystal clear that many Republicans in congress (and fools in the executive branch) are openly and brazenly moving to crush the people of this nation. Anyone who intentionally causes harm to people who have no means to resist is by definition cruel. I consider it to be evil, and that word (evil) is not one I would use rhetorically. These people are addicted to money. We have a powerful group of addicts running the country. How does that make you feel? Yeh, me too. Here’s some nice quotes . . . .

“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed.” ~ Terence McKenna

“Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.”  ~ David Foster Wallace

“I can believe things that are true and things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not. 

I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen – I believe that people are perfectable, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. 

I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone’s ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. 

I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. 

I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold like martians in War of the Worlds. 

I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. 

I believe that mankind’s destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it’s aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there’s a cat in a box somewhere who’s alive and dead at the same time (although if they don’t ever open the box to feed it it’ll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. 

I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn’t even know that I’m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. 

I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too. 

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, a baby’s right to live, that while all human life is sacred there’s nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. 

I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” ~ Neil Gaiman, American Gods



Chaos and Creativity


“In times of widespread chaos and confusion, it has been the duty of more advanced human beings — artists, scientists, clowns and philosophers — to create order. In times such as ours, however, when there is too much order, too much management, too much programming and control, it becomes the duty of superior men and women to fling their favorite monkey wrenches into the machinery. To relieve the repression of the human spirit, they must sow doubt and disruption.” ~ Tom Robbins

“I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: you have still chaos in you.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

“You don’t see something until you have the right metaphor to let you perceive it”  ~ James Gleick

This could become a totally political post, if I let it, which I won’t, so it won’t. I’ve become angry over what is being shoveled out by Trump and his minions. It is starting to look like we already have the dictatorship in place and functioning. That aside, I’ve kinda squeezed myself short of writing time, and not only that, I have also drifted too far into pessimism. That I can fix. It’s a workday, and that will help me out of this little dark space. Fun, satisfaction, that sort of thing. Between work and waiting for some rain, I’ll be shaking off this . . . . ummmm, I’m not really sure what to call it. I’ll be back tomorrow, and likely in a better space, because that’s the way I want it, so I will make it so. Geez, some of these few sentences are really clunky. Whatever. With all this chaos around, conditions are prime for creativity. Today it’s all about chaos and creativity. And on we go . . . .

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

This Spectrum of Shadows


“Careful preparation is necessary before people can perceive something which is there all the time.” ~ Idries Shah

“Pain is a good cleanser of the mind and therefore of the sight. Matters which seem to mean the world, in health, are found to be of no import when pain is hard upon you.” ~ Richard Llewellyn

“A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller.”  ~ Paul Klee

It all started with intense pain. That’s my day so far. Well, that and some good reading online. I’ve said it before – perhaps one of the few good things to come out of the Trump presidency is that it has inspired a lot of great writing and journalistic presentation of some obviously fine research and investigation. But about the pain. It was my shoulders and upper arms. I was lying flat on my back, a rare sleeping position for me. The cursing began when I tried to move to sit up. “Dammit, that hurts!!!“. I gave it a few tries, and about two dozen more outbursts of loud cursing, then managed to shift body weight just so to make it possible to diminish the pain enough to roll over on my right shoulder, enough to allow me to sit up in bed. Spinal stuff, no doubt. The pain was about a half hour in fading away. I’ve got a massage scheduled for Thursday. That healing touch. I’m hoping to let some tears out while she works on my shoulders and upper back. That whole area is not just damaged, it also holds a lot of muscle memory, PTSD stuff. The massage therapist and I know each other well enough that I truly don’t mind if she sees me cry. Somehow or other the pain has to come out, if any kind of healing is to unfold. Wah, poor me, right? Yeh, let’s move on. The dark morning sky is seemingly overcast. No stars to be seen. Temperature right around 50º. Comfy. And the good news is that it is going to rain. Or so they say. There’s a lot of weather pessimists around these days. The drought is set in pretty good, and it seems that some people have lost hope. I know the feeling. My former psychiatrist, the pretty doctor lady, once told me that two of the key elements, symptoms, whatever, in bipolar disorder are feelings of both hopelessness and powerlessness. Boy howdy she nailed that one. So will it rain today, and tomorrow, and the next day? Ebert says two thumbs up. Nature makes no mistakes. Ever. Not even the platypus. Now that critter was truly novel creation. But, it will rain. Says me. And rain is cleansing. Soothing. Refreshing. And it might just maybe moisten the ground enough that the moisture doesn’t all burn up, by way of the sun and the wind, come sunset. I remain hopeful, even though I feel depressed today. Go figure. But for now, the faux-rooster is doing that dim crowing she does, as the sky lightens from the passing of Earth’s penumbral shadow. I love to think of things on that scale, to visualize the Earth and Moon and Sun, all dancing together to produce this spectrums of shadows. I think it its helpful to first view on a grand scale, then scale it down to something more personal. Yeh, I’m using the celestial arrangement as an analogy, piggybacked on a metaphor. I like to do stuff like that as well. You just never know with stuff that big. But you can pick at it some. There is always Light hidden in the shadows. Ya jest gotta have a gander and see what you can come up with.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.