In a Time Fog

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“Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it.” ~ Ray Bradbury

“What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness.”  ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Electric space heater hums to tickle the cat’s hind quarters. They seem to have a good agreement there. I would have turned the heater off minutes ago were it not for the cat. Cats hold just that much power, if you let them have it. That might be an idea worth considering. Slow, quiet morning. My head seems to be stuck in some kind of time fog. Without doubt yesterday’s long string of letting go moments has a lot to do with it. None it was particularly profound, nor even spiritual per se. Tiny choices each, one after another, each consisting of no more than simply saying no to fear. As I experience it PTSD consists of countless fears throughout each and every day. Enough wise people have stated that courage consists of walking through fear, working with it, playing with it. That’s what I did yesterday. It was exhausting, to say the least, but I’ll do it again today, and not as an exercise. The key is to yank this life path into a new direction.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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The Dark Side of the Path

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“The secret and the sacred are sisters. When the secret is not respected, the sacred vanishes. Consequently, reflection should not shine too severe or aggressive a light on the world of the soul.”  ~ John O’Donohue

“I may appear to suffer from some sort of compulsive repetition syndrome, but these rituals are important to me. I have many places where I sit and think, “I have been here before, I am here now, and I will be here again.” Sometimes, lost in reverie, I remember myself approaching across the same green, or down the same footpath, in 1962 or 1983, or many other times. Sometimes Chaz comes along on my rituals, but just as often I go alone. Sometimes Chaz will say she’s going shopping, or visiting a friend, or just staying in the room and reading in bed. “Why don’t you go and touch your bases?” she’ll ask me. I know she sympathizes. These secret visits are a way for me to measure the wheel of the years and my passage through life. Sometimes on this voyage through life we need to sit on the deck and regard the waves.”  ~ Roger Ebert

How can this even be possible? This is not the world I imagined. That said, happy birthday to me. Don’t worry, I’m not hooked on the negative like some . . . can’t think of an apt and clever analogy right now. And that’s okay. I’m feeling deep sadness over the stuff I’ve been reading this morning, notably about the situation in Puerto Rico. It’s a crisis made worse by a bad man that I can no longer call president. He holds the office. That’s all. And health care. It is said that beneath anger lies sadness. Well, I’ve got ’em both out in broad daylight and the sun ain’t even up yet. No, I’m not goin on a big downer today. It is my birthday and I am going to have fun with it, in it, on it, whatever. Go out and do something, go for a drive. Wide-open spaces are not hard to find ’round these parts. Feelings of freedom are a personal thing, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find that as well. Joie de vie. Gratitude for life its own self. Listen, I lost my life at one point, 33 years ago. It only lasted a few minutes, 15 tops, probably less, and then I was back, with the biggest WTF feeling I could possibly even imagine. I’ve been confronted with the fact that no medical examination could have been done on the spot so no pronunciation of death was possible. Quite an objective point of view. I’ve done it to myself, that outlook. But to someone who would spring that POV on me I only said in response “I’ll know what I know and you can think what you think”. I mean it too. I did have medical attention, when the local fire chief happened upon me lying on the road. He had EMT training, although I couldn’t rightly say he was certified. That doesn’t matter. Because of his position as chief he was able to call for help right away. There were no cell phones back then. To call for help, if he not held that position in the fire department, he would have had to leave me there alone on the road. There was only scant traffic on that road at any given time, and although US 1 ran parallel to the road, maybe 20 yards away, it was the tail-end of twilight, so no one was likely to see me from the highway. I was a lucky man. Or from my point of view I was given the blessing of attention from spirit beings, beings of Light. Yeh, it really happened. If I had fully died at that time it wouldn’t have been an inconvenience to me. Looking back, part of me still to this day wishes that had been the case. I was given a choice by one of those spirit being, who seemed to hold a position in the spiritual hierarchy quite similar to the man who came to my assistance on the road. I chose to come back to life. So often I have regretted doing so. But today I don’t regret it. What happened to me, dying then returning with an amazing story to tell, is called by scientists an NDE. Some folks who have experienced the same thing came back all Love and Light and stuff. Not me. That I don’t regret. By traveling the dark side of the path which led me forward I have led a life richer than I can imagine. And it leads me to today. I’ll not abandon the dark side of the path. I can’t say it was ordained, but it sure as all heck was the natural way to go. Now, in this post I share a portion . . .oh, never mind. I could go on writing about this all day long. It was that big. But for now I think it’s time to go out and enjoy life, starting with a trip to the laundromat, after picking up a breakfast burrito at LotaBurger. Yum. It’s going to be a yum kinda day.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Acceptance and Self-forgiveness

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“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” ~  Mark Twain

“Listen. Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward. You are afraid you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver

“Letting ourselves be forgiven is one of the most difficult healings we will undertake. And one of the most fruitful.” ~ Stephen Levine 

After ten days I am still haunted by the salamander at my door at 3 AM on a cold night. It would make a cool opening scene for a low-grade horror movie, but as a writer I wouldn’t be up to taking it beyond the first scene. No biggie. Somebody else can do it. Feel free to use the idea, k? You won’t be sorry. Trust me. With that little bit of weirdness out of the way – the stars are painfully faint this morning. Maybe “painful” isn’t exactly the word I am looking for. Maybe uncomfortably faint. I’d like them to be brighter is all. Bright stars are a soothing start to any day. Coffee’s gone cold so I downed the last drops a minute ago. The cat is sulking in her bed because I boosted her from my lap for the very simple reason that she intentionally makes it hard for me to operate this keyboard for periods of time any longer than ten seconds. And I was ready to work on today’s blog post. I suppose I don’t really have to write here every day. I mean, do I really have that much to say? Not always. Some days it’s just for drill and some for nonsense or basic weirdness. I try not to do the snarly or the whiny judgmental thing too much, but I firmly believe that that needs to come out on occasion. Especially when it comes to the occasional political comment. Erudition and stuff has it’s place, but with the current political atmosphere the crude and the cynical often says it better. I can go either way, but I usually don’t allow myself enough time to do the former. A woman I used to hang out with back in the Keys, pre-gentrification, once asked my father a funny question. Or it at least elicited a funny answer. I was having a few letters to the editor published in the local newspapers in those days, in fact I never wrote one that wasn’t published. I’m proud of that. But this woman read one of them and asked the question “Why does Ken go back and forth between scholarly and the vernacular? He almost makes me agree with him”. Dad simply answered “That’s his style”. I’m sure that quip was no more comfortable for her than my writing. But I could tell from her second comment there, about agreement, that she was a Republican. I later got confirmation on that. As far as agreement goes, isn’t that what op-eds are for? Just sayin. Now, moving forward . . . a friend treated me to a movie and popcorn yesterday, as a birthday present. I chose the remake of “Flatliners” over “Bladerunner 2049”. The subject matter being of person interest to me made the choice a moot point. She wanted Bladerunner. I considered “Flatliners” to be research material for my ongoing interest in NDEs. Besides, I enjoyed it. I’d read numerous reviews beforehand, all of which dissed the film; although I must note that the New York Times review had some nice things to say about it. The last half of the film really played out well as a horror movie (some truly scary stuff!), but the underlying theme of the film was self-foregiveness, and I can’t stress enough how important that is. Guilt and shame can kill, my friend. As a person with mental illness I understand this all too well. To put it somewhat cryptically, it’s hard to get on with life when you can’t. During the early part of the story, when Ellen Page was going out of her life for the purpose of scientific research, I found myself silently bursting into tears, bigtime. I wasn’t shocked or surprised by the emotional outburst because it made perfect sense to me. The phenomenon of passing over then coming back to life is no small potatoes! Weird sentence, I know. Anyway . . . It is profound on both sides, in life or in death. That’s the catch. That’s what made me so emotional in an instant. That’s what the film was about. Somebody got it, grokked it, whatever. Our innate joy in life gets pared away by each little thing or big thing that fails to be met with forgiveness. I didn’t cry for long, and I don’t think my friend even noticed at the time, but I did tell her afterward, on the drive home. I don’t expect anyone to understand my NDE. It has to be a matter of acceptance of the weirdo who tells the tale. It’s a perfect been there done that thing. Understanding is always a noble goal but acceptance is no goal at all. It has to be in the moment. That said, the moment has come where I gotta scoot off to a quick rinse in the shower. Gotta work today then I have the next three days off in honor of my 63rd birthday. I can’t wait, right? Yeh, right. It will be good for my soul.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Stranger Things Have Happened

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“The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order, a timetable not necessarily – perhaps not possibly – chronological. The time as we know it subjectively is often the chronology that stories and novels follow: it is the continuous thread of revelation.” ~ Eudora Welty

“A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that’s unlocked and opens inwards; as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push.” ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

“We’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we’ve never even met?”  ~ David Foster Wallace

Have you ever had a morning of slow waking when you question reality? That’s the way it is for me this morning. I know better, even with the consideration from wise ones who call reality an illusion. I know better than to question this feeling. If it has a purpose enfolded within, it will come to bear in time. I can wait. Whether the purpose becomes clear or not I accept it as a positive thing. It’s a choice to make – positive or negative. What will it be today? It’s like that. It’s a matter of perspective. It’s a matter of allowing subjectivity to be a guide of sorts. It’s a way of letting go of that pestering dynamic we call reason; only for a while though. Just step back and breathe. Now, I’m way edgy this morning, the sort of mildly tremulous feeling I had the morning I had the petit mal seizure, back nearly four years ago. Yes, it scares me some. There has been no other seizure since then. It was not that the seizure was painful or even dangerous. What really got to me was the strangeness. That’s what scares me. I like strangeness, but that was just too weird. Dr. Wengs speculated that some undetectable brain damage might be the cause. My intuition says this is the truth of the matter. I get pretty hard on myself sometimes, for the aspects of my behavior that are no more than troublesome. It is a good idea to be more accepting that there are some veridical neurological problems I have to deal with, to live with. I don’t know why I am on this topic this morning. I just took a bit of extra anxiety meds to sand down the edginess a tad. All is well, trepidation not withstanding. Or maybe it is. Stranger things have happened.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

No Heroes Here

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“Books have a unique way of stopping time in a particular moment and saying: Let’s not forget this.”  ~ Dave Eggers

“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“They say I’m old-fashioned, and live in the past, but sometimes I think progress progresses too fast!”  ~ Dr. Seuss

Fresh cup of coffee, grounds straight out of a newly opened bag. Ugh. My sinuses are finally opening up. I’m gonna whine here just a tad. See, I’ve let this go on too long. It’s the old flower child in me – reacting to vectors in life with a cool, calm, “yeh dude that’s okay dude. Dr. Strassman told you ya gotta robust immune system dude. No worries”. Like I said, I’ve let it go on too long, and that robust immune system is telling me that very thing this morning. Wake up and smell the coffee dude! What was I thinking – I’m not Superman. Say, wasn’t that clever the way I pulled a full circle from coffee to sinus infection and back to coffee. I’m easily amused, get usta it. I read an article last night, in Politico Magazine online, about where Trump’s create your own reality illness comes from. Turns out it came from Norman Vincent Peale, of all friggin people. He and Napoleon Hill – what is wrong with those guys anyway? What? Any loyal reader here at EyeYotee blog knows that I am no fan of the positive thinking movements. First off their philosophy is too darned complicated; that said coming from a Druid-leaning panpsychist Taoist. Like go with the flow bro. But there are flaws in that way of life as well. Sometimes when personal will pokes its head up ya pretty much oughtta put your mind to it and apply it rather than watching it sit on the chair with the cat. The cat don’t give a fig about your personal will, k? Look into her eyes. Those wells of wisdom will silently tell you “Dude you will sit still dude” as she climbs up into your lap. Unattended will is like spurned inspiration, but isn’t that purring the sweetest, most soothing thing?! My stilted will is most easily detected in matters of the heart, of romance, and post modern chivalry or something. One my my friends’ sister, back in my high school days, once put her warm hand on my knee and softly said, “Your attitude toward women is look but don’t touch”. I had no idea she was coming on to me, but I know it now. I’ve run out of time to write. But let me finish by saying that we ain’t none of us super heroes. We can’t go out and right the wrongs in our American culture and society. Not as super heroes. As people. We have no heroes here, nor do we need them, but we must embrace them when they pop up out of the plenum. As humans. I need to remember to let the road rise up before me, as the Celts say. It’s like in love. I need to remember that there are no time constraints, but ya gotta move when it’s time to move. Onward and upward.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Like Some Perfect Storm

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“People never seemed to notice that, by saving time, they were losing something else. No one cared to admit that life was becoming ever poorer, bleaker and more monotonous. The ones who felt this most keenly were the children, because no one had time for them any more. But time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart. And the more people saved, the less they had.”  ~  Michael Ende, Momo

“That which we are, we shall teach, not voluntarily, but involuntarily. Thoughts come into our minds by avenues which we never left open, and thoughts go out of our minds through avenues which we never voluntarily opened.”  ~  Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s like some perfect storm of tiredness. Yesterday’s workday was about as challenging and exhausting as it gets. It was handled well by all and is now past. I’m almost embarrassed to say that I’m not even really all that much into the coffee this morning. And yet I persist. Coffee is like that. So with my brain on low power reserves I’m going to budget this morning, cut it short here and see if I can take an intelligent shower before heading back in to do it again. But before I go I want to make one more note. I had to take a long lunch yesterday, and some of it entailed spending time out in noonday Taos traffic, and now, having done so, I want to say I never want to go back into town again! And yet I persist. Sigh. I’m glad I got that out.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Coyotes and Cinnamon Girl

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“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”  ~  Robert Frost

“I’ve enjoyed every age I’ve been, and each has had its own individual merit. Every laugh line, every scar, is a badge I wear to show I’ve been present, the inner rings of my personal tree trunk that I display proudly for all to see. Nowadays, I don’t want a “perfect” face and body; I want to wear the life I’ve lived.”  ~  Pat Benatar

“More and more, he heard his spine playing stick games through his skin, singing old dusty words, the words of all his years.”   ~  Sherman Alexie

Coyotes in the distance. Other than the quiet thrum of household stuff this was the first sound to greet me this morning. I listened, smiling, and then it happened. Right outside the garden fence . . . there’s no way of measuring but my guess is the sound was no more than 200 feet away. A lone coyote, answering the smooth sounds from his or her pack, let loose with a loud, shrill, wavering, proclamation. Then another just north of the house, not as close, but still close. Then another howled, wolf-like. Then they all started singing as a pack, widely spread out, and as mystical as it gets in the animal kingdom. This is one of those sounds. It goes like music to the heart, then straight on into the soul, and the spirit resonates a hearty ‘all is well’. You hear something like this and you suddenly get a prime opportunity to instantly understand why coyotes are considered to be gods, Trickster or not. The neighborhood dogs answered, pale in comparison, sounding out their intimidation, answering but not at all challenging. No one in their right mind would challenge this. I simply loved this gift from Nature. All is well. Yesterday I got to learn something special about my new friend, Troi. She’s named after the psychic Ship’s Counselor on Star Trek Next Gen; one of my favor TV series ever. The man I was chatting with also told me her “Taos social name” but he said it in Spanish”. I must have looked confused because I know very little Spanish, maybe enough to conduct a retail transaction with one of the many Mexicans here. But remember this is not Mexico. This is a Spanish realm. Not Hispanic, as such. This is Spanish territory, and, even longer in time, the home of the Pueblo tribes. Most folks speak English. And fairly often you get to savor a touch from the old world. But back to my new friend. She’s a standard poodle of a special breed that was bred for something to do with water; a German breed. This young pup looks to be about 40-50 pounds of puppy, with tightly curled fur. The Taos social name the man spoke, in English,  translates as Cinnamon Girl, because the dog’s fur is just that color. I remember one night, one of the last Taos Solar Fest concerts, held in Kit Carson Park. There is a noise curfew here. Tone it down at 10 PM folks. We need to get some sleep. The final act in the concert was Los Lobos. When they broke into the final song of their brilliant set I felt a rush of good-chills: Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girls. We were head back to the car to beat the crowd, but the music was so loud it was right there with us all the way. It was magic, sheer magic. Magic happens. Anyway . . . the man was telling me about his dog, after I returned to my post behind the counter at the cash register, after having given Troi a dog biscuit, a gesture which was returned with a joyous high five from the beast. The man explained: Troi is a certified therapy dog. She goes once a week to somewhere where special needs children read stories to her, and when they finish the stories Troi gives them a high five. How cool is that?!

I’m coming close to my 63rd birthday, which is next week. I meant to write about aging this morning, but my prose was commandeered by a poodle and a rock band. Go figure. It should be a good workday today. I’m working alongside my friend, a beautiful 18 year old woman. We get along great, and she gives good hugs. I’ll have a two hour lunch break, during which I drive up to the north end of El Prado for a psychotherapy sessions. These sessions are valuable tools in working to find a purpose for the mental health challenges I face in this life: bipolar disorder type 2, and PTSD. And as a way to unravel the knost tied earlier in life. This is good.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

No More Difficult Than Bending Time

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“The key is the ability, whether innate or conditioned, to find the other side of the rote, the picayune, the meaningless, the repetitive, the pointlessly complex. To be, in a word, unborable … If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.”  ~  David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

“We must understand the Cosmos as it is and not confuse how it is with how we wish it to be.”  ~  Carl Sagan

There was to be one more quote here, but I abandoned the search because I want to get a little earlier start on the workday than usual. An earlier start? I decided to go for it but I still asked myself why . . . and that was the end of the issue. This is a reflection of my brain this morning. Allergies for one thing. A little sore throat. But that’s the banal stuff. This is one of the few mornings where I am tired under the weight of the grossness of the happenings in this country, and I don’t feel like thinking about them. I’m pretty much Jungian in my outlook, most of the time. The hefty, horny, orange, honcho we hesitate to call a president is symbolic of something deeper in our collective psyche. Some shadow, dark and lurking, probably more scared that evil. But I could be wrong about that. So . . . sleeping cat, Baby Ben ticking, just downed the last sip of coffee. The coffee was kind of cooked from sitting on the burner too long, but coffee is coffee. We must make sacrifices. And lastly, there is a certain person I’d like to see today, but it will have to be serendipity if it is to happen at all. Yet yesterday, as I was sitting in my car after eating my lunch, a young man came to mind. I haven’t seen him for maybe five years. He’s a very cool and intelligent lad. We used to work together at the natural foods market. And who should show up at the store that afternoon? Go ahead, guess. Yup, you nailed it. It was good to see him. At times we can remember the future. Try it. It is no more difficult than bending time. It’s just that results are a little harder to recognize. Shower time!

Peace out, ‘y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Touch of the Wyrd

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“When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”   ~  Albert Camus

“We often need to lose sight of our priorities in order to see them.”  ~  John Irving

It’s a mystery. I woke up with an ear worm. That’s what the Germans call a song that gets caught in your head. How did it get there? Did it crawl into your ear? Of course it did. The song is by a band I never truly appreciated until recently; maybe a year ago. “Oh Oh Oh It’s Magic” by The Electric Light Orchestra is the song. I’m big on magic . . . and it’s big on me. Gotta have balance in life or you’ll go buggy or something. A wyrd mood is upon me this morning. I like the word “wyrd”. It’s an old English term that denotes destiny or something like it. Consequently, saying I’m in a wyrd mood means I had it coming. To be sure, my friend. I’ve been too serious lately. Too analytical, too critical. This is a day to lighten up, even if only a tad. I think I have a throat infection this morning. Or sinus. Whatever. Headache. Probably the weather. A freak front came through, early yesterday evening. High winds and a serious drop in temperature. It’s 22º at the moment. It’s kinda refreshing. It makes me wanna g’wan and write like Huckleberry Finn talks, and I reckon I’ll let y’all figger out what the freakin’ heck that’s gotta do with anything. Don’t think about it too hard. It’s only nonsense. Ludwig Wittgenstein admonished ““Don’t, for heaven’s sake, be afraid of talking nonsense! You must pay attention to your nonsense.”. I live by that concept. Speaking of nonsense . . .

“I went to a restaurant that serves “breakfast at any time” so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance.”  ~  Stephen Wright

I bought a new space heater yesterday. It’s noisy but highly efficient. And the cat loves it. That’s the main thing. She’s down there right now, soaking it up. But, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I must keep it short today. Not my hair though, I think I want one of them gray ponytails that older guys wear these days, and some of those days as well. I haven’t really gone gray yet, but I have a start on it. The rest has gone blond, with hints of red. Hey, a customer at work yesterday called me Goldilocks. That says something now don’t it. But seriously now, I gotta go get ready for work.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

At Heart a Simple Thing

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“Magic lies in between things, between the day and the night, between yellow and blue, between any two things.”  ~  Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

“Life’s an act of magic, too. Claire Hamill sings a line in one of her songs that really sums it up for me: ‘If there’s no magic, there’s no meaning.’ Without magic – or call it wonder, mystery, natural wisdom – nothing has any depth. It’s all just surface. You know: what you see is what you get. I honestly believe there’s more to everything than that, whether it’s a Monet hanging in a gallery or some old vagrant sleeping in an alley.”  ~  Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

“What? Me Worry?”  ~  Alfred E. Newman, Mad Magazine

The stars this morning are faint enough so as to serve only as a reminder. There is rain and possible snow in the forecast. Perhaps it will last only a single day, but it will hammer home a point. I would say here that Winter is coming, but Game of Thrones of kinda commandeered that phrase, and has taken the oomph out of it. I faithfully watched the first three seasons of the show. I stopped because it was too bloody.  And I’m not squeamish. Let’s move forward, shall we?

I just stopped to take a break outside on the deck. I have to do that, even when the air temperature dips down way low. It’s a perspective kinda thing. Yesterday was . . . I won’t say a “bad one”,  all things must serve a purpose. I’ve written here before about my now 27 year search for a purpose in clinical depression. Clinical depression is a mercurial condition. Each time I think I’ve found a purpose it does a head fake and heads for the goal line. So far I have managed to tackle it every single time. I remember that first big crash back in 1990, a full-blown bout of diving head first into a truly terrifying world. Yesterday wasn’t that bad, but I do remember thinking, as I took an intentional nap, that it would be alright if I didn’t wake up again. Rosie the cat always serves as an anchor when it comes to that headspace. I guess that serendipitously meeting an old friend at the laundromat may have contributed to the feeling, but it was already there. She was just putting the soap into the machine and I was ready to fold my clothes. Still we chatted for a while. She still works at the natural foods market where I used to work, but I got fired. She related how she got promoted to assistant manager of her department, but was soon demoted, and a man, a new guy, stepped in to her position. She explained things a little further but she still seemed to be hurt and without an explanation. I interjected at one point, “Well, he’s a man”. She smiled and replied, simply, “He’s a man”. Agreement is at heart a simple thing. Too bad so many Americans are so bad at it. It takes a higher kind of agreement to smooth out tension but so many of us only know the lower range on the spectrum of agreement. The higher range is demonstrated when peeps agree to disagree, but our country is so rigidly divided that this, sadly, rarely happens at large. I tend to, in part, attribute this to evangelical Christianity. There’s too much “God wants”, “God says”, “God sent the hurricane because of the mayor of San Juan”. And I’m like all how the fuck do you know that?! My takeif there is indeed such a God as the Christian version – is that that God provided us with a heart so that we may speak for him through actions. Use it wisely. Just do it. Trust me on that. Say, while we’re at it, why did your God give me clinical depression? What did I do wrong? Listen, I am a pagan, a polytheist, a panpsychist (you’ll have to look that up yourself). For me there are many gods and goddesses, and yet, as Merlin of Camelot once said, “All gods are one”. Think about that for a moment. Or don’t. Whatever. Moving forward. I am so tired of life.

It’s time to prep for my workday. A cathartic post today; mildly so.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.