Must Be the Cold

“Almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of ‘psst’ that you usually can’t even hear because you’re in such a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer. ” ~ David FosterWallace

“I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.” ~ Stephen Jay Gould

“All the possibilities of your human destiny are asleep in your soul. You are here to realize and honor these possibilities. When love comes in to your life, unrecognized dimensions of your destiny awaken and blossom and grow. Possibility is the secret heart of time.” ~ John O’Donohue

For a while at first I couldn’t get warm. The outside air felt harsher than usual, the inside air felt needy and greedy, willing to take on any spare heat, yet unwilling to give any back. Air with an attitude? Apparently so. Also apparent is that as I slowly garnered fresh adaptation to the waking state I came to realize that perhaps the aggressive chill was not so much me after all. I clicked a few and pulled up the weather site. Yep, eight degrees above zero. Silly me, the reason for the aggressive chill is that it is friggin cold outside! But it wasn’t the cold that woke me up. It was the cat, poking at my face. She hasn’t done that in a long time. It was kinda cute and refreshing, and because I’ve had plenty of sleep overnight the cat’s gesture did not piss me off. Yeh, all this mundane stuff is about all I have this morning. It’s been a bad 24 hours; stomach cramps and significant pain, and a severe bitter taste in my mouth. I finally left work early and slept for most of the next 15 hours. As to what actually caused the pain? Whatever. I can’t be bothered with that because it just feels kinda buggy, that’s all, k? Geez, I feel kinda cranky. Must be the cold, right?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Whispers in Time Swirls

“It is very strange that the years teach us patience – that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.”  ~ Elizabeth Taylor

“I think that love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time, and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last. I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me.”  ~ Peter S. Beagle

“Truth is the offspring of silence and meditation. I keep the subject constantly before me and wait ’til the first dawnings open slowly, by little and little, into a full and clear light.”  ~ Isaac Newton

Dark Magic starts the day. It’s the coffee, it’s the brand name of the coffee. I made it just right. How weird do you think it is that I very often think of my ex-wife while setting up the coffee pot for the morning brew? There’s no hard feelings there. Not at this point and place in time. We got on quite well with each other. I’d have liked to have gotten to know her better. I know now what the deal was, I wasn’t exciting enough for her. She turned me on to quality dark roast coffee, made ultra-strong, always through a Melita cone filter. Shannon would shudder at the coffee pot I have now. Of course there are other things about me now that would also make her shudder. Still, I would love to see her again. That’s where my head is at this morning: navigating a few time swirls that haunt the morning. My father rarely comes around but he did this morning, just after 3 AM, as I sat outside in the cold, air just below freezing. Ancestors are always within reach. The Moon just passed her fullest phase. I hear there was a fancy dance the orb did, she in her red gown. I missed it but slept well. At her fullest, the Moon draws back the Veil, making it easier for all of us, corporeal or not, to reach through and touch across the great divide. Such outreach is what, in my estimation, creates the time swirls, when you can catch whispers from the past as well as from the future. Today it is my father and my ex-wife coming through. Dad died 20 years ago, and I reckon Shannon is still alive. But I’m not sensing any significant meaning here. And I’m not too clear on any whispers from the future. I can put on my oracle hat and see a smile that also winks. She will come along soon enough. That’s the best I’ve got as far as positive thinking goes. But I just want to step outside of time and head back east, to the eastern piedmont of the Berkshires. My best friend, soulmate, Twin Flame, lives there. We would sit in her kitchen and have tea, sparking up a Marley spliff somewhere along the way. When she and I get high together there is always way deep talk, but there is also laughter to tears. We are both comically inclined: she sarcastic, me iconoclastic and cynical. Yes, when high, we often laugh to tears. And she’s a witch as well; natural born, not out of some book or something. It goes way back through her matrilineal flow. The magic there would likely cast you in a stunning light, should you be so fortunate. So, anyway, Sharon and I would get high over proper English tea, then head out to Browning Pond for a casual walk in, through, whatever, the Thoreau continuum. See, Sharon was born in London to an American father. Sometimes when out on the trail around Browning Pond you are gifted with the tolling of the bell from Saint Joseph’s Abbey, which is just up the Seven Mile River from Browning Pond. I’d like to do that but it ain’t happenin’. I know she can feel me as I write about her. I love her and have for a million years. It’s that kind of relationship, just outside of time, where just knowing she is alive gives me a deep unspeakable feeling of okay-ness. I’ll hold on to that feeling as I go to work, get the work done, then . . . nah, them whispers from the future just ain’t too clear. No worries.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Air and Ale

“I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.” ~ Jennifer Niven

“The law of evolution is that the strongest survives!’ ‘Yes, and the strongest, in the existence of any social species, are those who are most social. In human terms, most ethical…There is no strength to be gained from hurting one another. Only weakness.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

“The secret of the mountain is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself: the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no “meaning,” they are meaning; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and the mountains ring, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart, knowing how meaningless it is to try to capture what cannot be expressed, knowing that mere words will remain when I read it all again, another day.” ~ Peter Matthiessen

There’s been a moonset, as good as it gets. Tight ring with almost colors. Crystalline halo. Sliding so delicately down to the horizon, then gone. I haven’t checked the metaphysical meanings here but the moonset . . . well, that was the show. I’m not sure I can get into metaphysical meanings today. My brain seems somewhat indisposed for such musings. Lighter things must prevail. Of course I could go the YouTube route and just veg on videos for a couple of hours. Lightworkers, Illuminati, UFOs, ghosts, Taylor Swift. Not gonna happen. Welllll, maybe. We’ll see. The major flow for me today is a wave of nurturance. Goddess stuff. Get comfy. Encourage the lap cat. Rub her just so behind the right ear to get that purr revved up real good. I reckon that should about do it. Yeh, Netflix. Food, water, air, and ale. Creature comforts, conducive to healthy regard for little things in life that can be considered at length with no chance of obsession. Yeh, the smile from a particular particularly pretty woman yesterday gave me an early morning lift. Goddess stuff. It is, after all, Sunday. The Veil is thin from the Full Moon. Said Veil will return to thinness come Groundhog’s Day, which was originally Imbolc, in the neopagan. It’s a special time for me in that I kinda sorta died on a February 3rd, so long ago. That anniversary always touches me in translingual ways. 34 years now. Maybe it is the PTSD that makes it all feel so present, as if it happened just yesterday, or maybe even today. It’s all rich and stuff to consider the gravity of it all. But not today. Today features that smile I just mentioned. Heck, I might even have some popcorn as well. I don’t know. It is just a simple day. And that’s good, right? Boy howdy is it ever!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

State of Play

“I love the players and you love the game” ~ Taylor Swift

“He told us that nations of men fell into disorder, so nations of law were set up instead. He told us that nations of law then forgot justice and let the law become a Game, a Game in which the moves and the winning were more important than truth. He told us to seek justice rather than the Game.” ~ Shari S. Tepper

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

Our opening photo is from a lovely storm back on February 28th, 2010. I remember the shoveling that day, not because it took so long, but because I had entirely too much fun shoveling. It wasn’t enough for me to just get the snow out of the way. I sculpted some of it, little walls and stuff. For fun. If somebody had come along to tell me that I could be using my time in a more practical manner my reply would have been playful, and perhaps not entirely welcome. I’m usually pretty good, but sometimes I simply cannot traffic in allusions. Sometimes ya just gotta play, and if that entails playing with words then do it lovingly. At such times I prefer the direct approach, which likely leaves the other trying not to laugh. That’s when you finally have them. What I am saying is ya gotta play. That’s all really. Now, moving forward . . . the Moon looks truly magnificent this morning. It just floated down behind the horizon. The air is wicked cold; sky crystal clear. Tis a workday and part of me is indeed feeling playful. I’ve got a moderate depressive cycle happening, and that actually can make it easier to have fun. When everything sucks (one feature of hardcore depression is that everything sucks) nothing matters as much, so you can be funny. It is almost a necessity, which is said to be the mother of invention. Invent laughter and smiles. Easy enough. It likely will lift your spirits a tad. Case closed. It’s a state of play.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Maintenance Level Stuff.

“Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.” ~ Bessel A. van der Kolk

“Social anxiety results from being around people who are resolutely opposed to who you are.” ~ Stefan Molyneux

“After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go onto permanent alert, as if the danger might return at any moment.” ~ Judith Lewis Herman

There is a light snow falling and the last sip of coffee is completed. It’s been hard pulling myself together this morning. News reports are hampering me, but it’s all good. Seems they have documentation that indicates the president instructed Michael Cohen to lie to Congress. This is a whole new level and we can expect a whole new level of crazed actions and self-immolation. It’s going to be hard to watch. If you think the president was bugfuck before, just wait. Just for fun I will adopt a Fox New conspiracy tool for stretching the truth and announce here that this never would have arisen to see the light of day if the president had not fed burgers of questionable nutritional value to buff and healthy football champions. Listen, these sporty boys know that you don’t reach the level of national champions by eating shit. And you don’t achieve a spiritually strong nation by feeding them a steady diet of rather adolescent BS. You are what you eat, Mr. President.

Light snow is still coming down. It’s a workday. The fact that I don’t want to leave the house reflects the opening quotes. I don’t get tired of writing about trauma. I just get tired. It’s the drain from the toxic atmosphere of the marketplace. Me, I’m always afraid. The meds help, including the Indica. That’s maintenance level stuff. Very important stuff. What would really help a lot is something that takes time. So I wait. Such is life, right? I’m in danger of going all existential here so I’m going to mosey along and get prepped for work.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Through the Mist

“That’s what literature is. It’s the people who went before us, tapping out messages from the past, from beyond the grave, trying to tell us about life and death! Listen to them!”~ Connie Willis

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

“A decade or two on the rocks gives a person character. Although she’d never believe it, those lines in Gillian’s face are the most beautiful part about her. They reveal what she’s gone through and what she’s survived and who exactly she is, deep inside.” ~ Alice Hoffman

Just a few minutes ago I was sitting here in a cloud of envy, because a friend up in Black Lake reported, on Facebook, an inch of fresh snow. So then I go outside to find that it has begun to snow; first a few big flakes, then a fine powder. The envy popped like a balloon, dispersing a suppressive emotion into thin air. And now without the emotion I can fully feel this morning’s version of trepidation and reticence. It’s the same old annoyance: I don’t want to go into town to go to work. I don’t mind going to work, mind you, I just don’t want to go into town. It’s not a rational thing, totally agoraphobic. Don’t call it an illusion, please, because then I will have to tell you that it doesn’t matter to my central nervous system whether or not it’s real. In the words of one of my favorite songwriters, “Prison bars imagined are no less solid steel”. Chronic anxiety commandeers the imagination to feed a form of paranoia that seems to be mandatory, or something stupid like that. I’ll live, right? You betcha. A pretty woman’s smile, an unexpected laugh amidst seriousness, the waggle of a dog, these things put mental dysfunction out to pasture for a spell. Blessings one and all. Yesterday morning’s fog . . . oh man, can you believe it, how thick it was?! I ventured forth into the mist with Steve Earle playing “Copperhead Road”. That’s what I call rock and roll. Something magical came to me through the mist, a treasure from the Spirit world, rich in secrecy, something that I must savor without needing to identify or define it. Heck, I don’t even know what or who it was this time. That’s life: all you need is love. Right? Let’s just see how it goes, k?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Entanglement and the Lingering Giggle

“If in any quest for magic, in any search for sorcery, witchery, legerdemain, first check the human spirit.” ~ Rod Serling

“Those [things] that we encounter for the first time immediately have a spiritual effect upon us. A child, for whom every object is new, experiences the world in this way: it sees light, is attracted by it, wants to grasp it, burns its finger in the process, and thus learns fear and respect for the flame. ” ~ Wassily Kandinsky

“The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside by a generous hand. But- and this is the point- who gets excited by a mere penny? But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days.” ~ Annie Dillard

Wicked cold sets the mark for today. That and good coffee. Rosie the cat is grouchy and somewhat vocal about it. Lately I have come to be more aware of the now clearly evident signs that my 15 year old cat is indeed actually 15 years old. Which is to say nothing of my own agey-ness. I still seem to be 17, give or take. Except for my neck, or my posture, or my amped out nervous system. No, I don’t worry about signs of aging. There’s like no organic gluten-free Botox or something I slather on my face each night so I can be all pretty and stuff next morning. Yeh, a little cheapy skin lotion, perhaps. I can harken back to something that Lauren Hutton once said in an interview, that she earned every one of her wrinkles. Yeh, me too with mine. Same goes for the aches and pains. Something else comes to mind. Not too long ago a coworker said something to me that inferred that she and I are around the same age, so I told her mine. She simply replied “no” and commenced to stare at me. Then she did it again. Another coworker told her “he’s got 30 years on us”. Maybe 25 dude, I mean come on. The whole thing gave me a lingering giggle. Little did I ever suspect that . . . oh, never mind. Now, moving forward . . . today is my mother’s birthday. She woulda been 87. And this post marks the 1600th posts here at EyeYotee blog. Go figure, right? Perhaps the oddest thing on my mind these past few days, ever since that righteous snow storm expanded said mind, is a sense of wonder at having been asked twice within the past week whether or not I know anything about quantum entanglement. Let’s get something straight here: I work in a hardware store in Taos, not in the labs of Los Alamos. I sell nuts and bolts, not mysterious scientific theories, k? As it turns out I actually do know a tad about quantum entanglement. It’s not a point of pride, I read a lot, and I do grok it, though not to the extent that I can put much of it at all into words. BTW, that article I referenced in the link also touches on the “many worlds” interpretation in quantum physics. This stuff is background research for my novel, which still is almost on sabbatical. One of these days, right? Now, I’d best meander along and go warm up the car a little – 12º don’tcha know. Workday.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

This Hunger for Magic

“The highest forms of understanding we can achieve are laughter and human compassion.” ~ Richard Feynman

“And a step backward, after making a wrong turn, is a step in the right direction.” ~Kurt Vonnegut

“The day science begins to study non-physical phenomena, it will make more progress in one decade than in all the previous centuries of its existence.” ~Nikola Tesla

This is it, a nearly perfect day, cold, gray, white. There are many things to talk about. None spring to mind at the moment, save for magic. The overcast is complete and there is snow in the forecast. More snow. That storm a couple of days ago was indeed profound. Folks were saying that they have not seen such precipitation since they were a kid. And I’m like all they look much older than that. There was a snow like this four years ago. One does not forget that degree of shoveling, nor the time involved in completion of the task. Besides, I have these blog archives to use as reference. But I try to respect peoples’ own personal mythos. There was snow up to ‘here’! But that was decades ago, right? Yeh, right. Boy howdy I know that I hold probably plenty such personal stories, where the facts have been tweaked or ignored completely. The bottom line is that it snowed and it was good. As for magic, there is plenty in the air, even if it is simply just me. Magic is the manipulation and/or experience of the material and emotional world through consciousness. Sure, there’s more to it than that. This hunger for magic today rests in the small things that rest entails. I’m not really clear on this. Isn’t material reality enough in its own right? No. Just no. I think I’ll leave it at that. For now, dude, for now.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Big Snow Day

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” ~ Hunter S. Thompson

“I do not insist,” answered Don Quixote, “that this is a full adventure, but it is the beginning of one, for this is the way adventures begin.” ~ Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

“Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it — namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain.” ~ Mark Twain, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

Well, I could have put this off forever. Believe it or not I carry a feeling of dutifulness toward this blog, and I like to do it daily, if I can. I nearly skipped it today. Yesterday’s snow was pretty intense. When I got home from work yesterday I nearly became stuck in the driveway. Now, I have to go out in the dark to see if I’ll be able to get out without further shoveling when I go to work. Yeh, I could call in snowed in, but I won’t. Big snow is without doubt an adventure. I don’t know what to make of it, nor do I truly know what to write about. Just stopped by to say hi. Tis but a big snow day.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

From Lascaux to Taos

“Myth and nature are the two great garments of the world, with nature being the living green garment that covers the planet and myth being the multidimensional, many-colored fabric that continually weaves human culture.”  ~ Michael Meade

“Despite the fact we give hurricanes names like Katrina and Rita, a hurricane isn’t a self-contained unit. A hurricane is an impermanent, ever-changing phenomenon arising out of a particular set of interacting conditions – air pressure, ground temperature, humidity, wind and so on. The same applies to us: we aren’t self-contained units either. Like weather patterns, we are also an impermanent, ever-changing phenomenon arising out of a particular set of interacting conditions. Without food, water, air and shelter, we’d be dead. Without our genes, family, friends, social history, and culture, wouldn’t act or feel as we do.”  ~ Kristen Neff

“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.”  ~ Joseph Campbell

These dreamy peaceful mornings could become habit forming. Perhaps the habit has already crystalized? Yeh, maybe. The snow triggered me earlier. I did not know there was going to be snow, did not look at the forecast at all yesterday. When I first stepped outside, about 2:45 AM, I noticed that the doormat was wet. I was barefoot so it was easy to tell. This perplexed me for a few minutes, until I realized that there was fresh powder on top of the old snow. So now the snow is coming down slow and steady, still micro-fine powder. It’s gonna be a pretty one today. Powder is the best. Heavy wet snow is visually impressive, but powder has a sparkle to it that can’t be beat, visually speaking, that is. “Visually speaking”? Yeh. From my perspective part of a writer’s job is to paint a picture, as if words could be crafted into pictures. Turns out they can. Words can be crafted into pictures simply because they were crafted from pictures in the first place. How long have humans been able to speak in a formal or even formative language? Take it back a million years or so. Seems to me that language kinda sorta was born of images. Or better yet, take it back a measly 20,000 years, a time frame suggested by the wall paintings in the Lascaux caves in France. I’m not going to carry this too far today, so suffice it to say that Paleolithic humans had a language of pictures. It’s complicated, right?

Heady stuff, right? Yesterday was a heady day, starting with my therapy sessions, which drifted quite a ways into quantum entanglement as it relates to synchronicity. Not long after that I fell into a discussion about ancient aliens, quantum interconnectivity on an intergalactic scale, and simultaneous time. Other than me being there for both the two conversations were (supposedly) not connected. This is synchronicity. No more commentary on this for now. I gotta let it all sink in and simmer in the cauldron for a spell. Soooo . . . moving forward. That first trip outside also gifted me with the distant call of a coyote, followed minutes later by the scream of a big cat. Now that was a thrill! I’ve never heard a scream like that in the wild. Yeh, maybe on YouTube or PBS. There’s no telling if it was a bobcat or a mountain lion. It could have been either, as far as potential appropriate habitats are concerned. The species offering the scream is not important, the important thing is that it happened at all. I’ve long suspected that there is a big cat in the vicinity. Now I know. And on that note I’m gonna meander out to the car and see how much scraping and sweeping I will have to do to get it ready for the snowy trip into Taos, where I must go to work. The peacefulness of the snow along with the existential rush from the big kitty somehow combined to nudge me into troubadour mode, so it will be devotion to the Goddess, and seeing Her in every woman, all done with a song in my heart. To create romance in my life I will hafta somewhat ‘ditch’ the Goddess devotion thing. You get to talking straight to the big gal yer gonna miss out on the human aspect of the woman before you. That would not be cool. My thing is to think of the woman’s feet as they address the ground with each step. Our connection to the Earth is through our feet, says me. And you can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk.. There’s one woman who’s walk attracts me more than others. I’m not talkin’ ogling here. That is one of the joys of troubadour mode: there is no need to ogle when you can see into deeper layers of human interconnectivity. She looks right fine to me. Words fail me. Gotta go.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.