Friday, October 23, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Waking in the wind and fresh air, lying on my back and enjoying the moment. Nerves a little heightened not knowing what to expect nor what to anticipate. The others where in a little disarray, largely due to the size of the group. Eight is an interesting number. Slightly different agendas resulted in one tenuous moment. It didn't last long.
It was cool, beautiful, and refreshing. The waves sank over the sides of the raft chilling me to the core with their beauty. So much productive water that one could see the past, presume the future. The wild and scenic Rogue River is on my list of most beautiful things.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Absolutely amazing that the trees and grasses and reeds and sage survive in places like these.
At times in the past, there have been single, cataclysmic events. A result of which is that nothing lives. Nothing we can easily see, that is. Forrest's gone, nothing larger than a chicken survived some of these events.
This phenomena has happened remarkably quickly. For instance, the object that very likely collided with the planet around 65 million years ago. It would have been certain destruction in the immediate vicinity, and perhaps for about a quarter of the circumference of the globe. The impact would have resulted in a nuclear winter. No sunlight, no heat, no photosynthesis, no food for secondary producers, no luck!
Within weeks to months there would be mass starvation, mass distinctions.
But, as most things go, it came to an end. The survivors were now the leaders. Now hundreds of times smaller than their predecessors. Bacteria, insects and plants. From there, things grew along new hereditary planes.
It's the plane that I am on right now. My kids, too. How did I end up here? Where was I before? Where have I been? What will happen next, I am not interested. I did not know before, and it did not concern me.
I currently have no immediate destination. Later that will be different. But that's then. In the mean time, I will enjoy this.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
This is the time of year when there is a undeniable feeling of starting something. Although, it can certainly be the type of feeling one is not aware of, nor even necessarily sensing, until a time comes when it is crucial to think of such a thing. At that time one becomes aware of the fact that they have been thinking about getting such an activity underway for quite some time...perhaps even years or seconds. This can get confusing, especially if it has been occurring year after year.
At times during the past year I have felt happy, sad, anxious, tickled, nothing, bewildered, defensive, open, aggressive, contemplative, decisive, tricky, funny, counseling, considerate, loving, confusing, frustrated, confident, sarcastic, placated, placating, obtuse, obscure, brief, short, succinct, even, at times, verbose. But I digress.
Last year I worked my way from being 39 to becoming 40. It was not hard nor difficult. In fact, it came upon me quite suddenly and unknowingly. It is still not uncommon for me to hear from others that they too didn't think it was coming, and are currently under the impression that it is still not here. This is the position I am in. When I know what it is that I am meant to do, I'll let you know, as I am presently unaware of the variety and time-frame. Just today it occurred to me that I have always wanted to live in Africa, you know, like savanna grass-lands Africa, not thick bushy can't breath Africa. That dry arid land with an escarpment in the distance. Acacia trees the primary treed resident, other than the occasional baobab. Prior to moving to Bend, and being around mountains and snow and water and dryness, I had wanted to have the experience of this, but for some reason or the other just didn't think it was what was available to me. Until I met Joanna, who, unbeknown to her, helped me realize that the only person stopping me was holding me together. And now here I am, two years later. So, if savanna grass-lands Africa is and has always been in my mind and on my taste-buds, can it happen too? I wonder. Hmmm. Whatever.
There is no real purpose; is what is somewhat valuable. Somehow knowing and being this makes things a little easier to perceive. Because then there is no reason whatsoever to say, take things personally, for example (regardless of Toltec Nation reasoning). Nor is their any reason to be defensive (which is a result of taking things personally I do realize, but let that one slip by) because their just isn't any purpose. Now, this is by no means meant to sound like I am saying that their is no reason. It is different entirely. Reason implies search. Search indicates loss. Loss is in the past. We exist now, in the present.
There is no real Purpose, just Reason and Self-Esteem.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Ahead in need, is ahead indeed. A head in need is a head, in deed. Indeed a head in need is a head. The weather was quite unsure of itself this day in July. The pressure of the atmosphere pushing on the surface was a little unstable I thought. My head thought it too, and the manner in which that thought manifested itself was quite miserable to the beholder. Me. It began quite innocently as I woke with a happy toddler and a sick wife. Some call them migraines, I call them shitty headaches. It made me stumble and fumble and foresee things that I shouldn't be foreseeing. It resulted in me not being able to be the person who I am, although I was the person who I was. I played and delayed whenever possible. I slept but never wept. This type of situation has existed as long as I can remember. In fact, I recall sitting in my drapery-darkened bedroom when I was around 7 years old (almost 32 years ago now) reorganizing my toy closet and straightening my cars. This wasn't just because I was an introvert, my head ailed me and I didn't know how to express it otherwise.
Mid-afternoon today it stormed. A funny kind of storm. Sunshine and blue skies on the east side of the house, dark clouds and big thops of rain accompanied by hail fell on the deck on the west side of the house. I gathered hail for Nicholai to eat. He liked that. The moment was a turning point. Within half an hour my head had cleared, leaving me with a certain surreal sense of the day. We went and played at a potluck with other toddlers and many adults. My head was clear. I could believe that just an hour or so prior I could barely write my name with a crayon.
A head. Indeed. I am affected by the pressures of Gaia and Sol.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sometimes when I wonder, thoughts come to my head that make me feel a little sad, glad, excited, overwhelmed, noncommittal, unsure, determined, reassured, and in-touch. Wondering about us. As a entity, a thing, a species, a cock-sure lump of nitwits who are determined to find out exactly how long it will take to eradicate all that surrounds us so as to assure our downfall. Regardless of whether some feel that we have no right to pull the planet along with us, we are doing it quite successfully. Isn’t that what they say? Survival of the fittest. Surely that implies that some are to not survive. Which in-turn implies that of those destined to not survive, and by the very nature of not surviving, there is bound to be an impact of some sort on the surrounding life and non-life. So not surprisingly, we are performing, as our own philosophy would have us perform where we in the place that we find our selves in.
It is no secret that geologically we have only realized the smallest fraction of our world’s existence. It is also no secret that regardless of our involvement, the world we inhabit has a definite life span, which is ultimately determined by our Sun and other objects flying through the vacuum far above our head and far below our feet. There are yet other determiners just geologic inches below our feet. Bubbling liquid minerals that feel quite an urge to surface and apply another coat. Like a cake with icing, sprinkled with powdered sugar. Boom! Ooze… Sprinkle :)
Why is it that the center of everything is only apparent when not being looked at? As in the behavior of a particle. Sure you can see many centers when looking away from the center, but stop to examine its exact location and pwang! It presents itself all over the place, simultaneously and/or concurrently. My oh my what a pleasure it is not knowing what is going on. It is still my standing that we need to ‘understand what you need.’ I made a bumper sticker that says just that. I sometimes wonder how many or if any people explore that statement to the extent that I intended. Understand what you need. The first interpretation is often to just understand what it is that you need so as to not overuse the resources that surround us on this planet. The intended meaning is to understand what you need to understand. We are in an informationally obsessed western world. I have found my self driven to the edge of a precipice by this information. It is no fun when the most easily obtained information is the negative stuff. Death despair disease crisis crime cunning news is all around us. There are a couple nifty things going on other than the quilters at the University Lutheran Church of Hope you know; but you have to dig deep and far to encounter that stuff first. Instead of trying to understand it all, or thinking that in some way I might be able to understand things that are ‘going on,’ I decided that I need to understand the things that I feel that I need to understand. Huh, imagine that. Putting societal pressures of what you should or should not know aside and focusing on the things that you feel are valuable. Let me try that.
On that note, I pass the candle on to the next brave soul who wishes to announce their nonsensical landerings in the direction of center.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Now. I set out to perform something back in January of this year, and once I stopped just a little, I seemed to have stopped for sure. Silly me. This is what I want to be doing. Whether the prose is being read or not, for the time being. In order for it to happen I need to stand my ground and just make it so. Words seem choppy in the middle of the night.
It is with certainty that I remark. My only wisdom is that which befalls upon itself the tide that changes with time and knows not when to start, but when to stop.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Mountains all the time. Some go up and some go down. Here they continue to go up, for the most part. Some are currently going up at a rate of an inch per year. If we wait a little geologic time, and most likely a very little geologic time, they will spurt and spoof hot stuff. I'll have to check-in with future generations.
There seems to be little bustle around pending catastrophe. I guess that's somewhat akin to being bitter. The main difference is that the former is in the future and the latter is in the past. However, if it is all just a cycle then what's the real difference anyway? Both bitterness and obsession over pending doom are not helpful to the daily passage. I like passage because it implies something that is continuous yet the off-shoots lead to equally reasoned unknowns.
It seems to me that the future is a spiral, not a circle. When I think of a spiral the image that comes to mind is not a Slinky. It's the lines that would be made by a spinning-top point that was drawing a picture with it's point. The size and direction of the spiral would change as it spun from the initial thrust. The shapes would be relatively consistent, barring the last few moments. As the momentum suddenly runs out the spinning-top would shoot-out a final boost before falling. That line would be lengthier than the diameter of the last several rounds, and form an S-shape before reconsolidating into small circular motions and falling over. Where are we on that continuum?
Friday, February 24, 2006
Perhaps it isn't real after all. There are times and occasions when all the bubbles that extend themselves from me are small. On yet other occasions they are large, big, actually. This concept makes perfect sense to me. I am aware that when initially expressed the way it has been, it can easily be understood as senseless.
Conceptually, this has been a part of my psyche for the past 10 years or so. There are many analogies for such a similar sensation. Some so complex that I realize I would probably not even understand what I am reading. That was a noted area for me to work on when I was in Standard 6, which is 8th Grade. A test result came back that told me I wasn't understanding enough of what I was reading. Actually, it told them that the things that they asked me (something they believed that I interpreted from a reading sample), I was unable to correctly verify as true, false, unclear, invalid, made-up, confusing, round-about, or missing. That was odd, I remember examining, because when I read, I read. It is not in my head to take particular note of an idea or issue presented. Somewhat like the weather. The clouds that float above our heads are strongly influenced by wind. Or a lack of wind, several miles, or hundreds of miles away. High and Low pressure systems. I guess weather is a poor analogy. But by now, only four sentences later, you have probably let the thoughts of what I was just writing about escape into a different place. Now they come back. Or could if you really wanted them to.
The bubbles. Yes, Big Bubbles and Little Bubbles. I recall a cardboard cut-out figure of Tiger, from Winnie the Pooh. Big Bubbles may be the easiest to explain, and the most difficult to get out. There are days, hours, minutes, parts of minutes, etc., when it is remarkably difficult to express, exhume, or react in the way that my head would like to. Sure there are reasons. There are always reasons. It’s enjoyable to be able to express oneself in the way that we feel is our way. But all too often our way never manifests itself as we fully intend. So, those Big Bubble days or moments are when it's just stuck. Having a very difficult time getting to where it's trying to go or be. Bubbles can be and certainly are malleable. They can inflate, too. Every other word is awkward and in, yet out of character.
Those large, ungangly bubbles are sometimes non-existent. Little Bubbles. Easy is the flow and glee. Non-influenced by anyone but your glands. And, just as your pituitary can instantaneously let your entire physical being 'feel' afraid - goose pimples (goose bumps) - so too can some combination of internally produced chemicals change your outward expression. Odd. Our perception of time is odd. Why would it be different for a continental sublimation zone and the blink of a fire-fly’s blinker? This is where another Universe could come in. Another Universe could store all the time and distribute it like a coin-dispenser on a gas station attendant's belt. That's questionable though.
Little Bubbles. I like Little Bubbles. Although, to be tritely honest, Big Bubbles are a vice.