First Rung

The thoughts sometimes gang up on each other, yeh? I catch myself in the  midst of one even as another is waiting offstage, tapping a toe. So many analogies can be drawn: the next wave in the ocean when I’m still tumbling from the last one.

I live near the Rio Grande, a handy river from wherever you look. Come, drift with me awhile. Hook your arm through mine or maybe catch onto the rope of my innertube… where you going in such a hurry anyway?

I had two monkeys worth of weeks lately – let your imagination punctuate that. A double trip to Hillsboro, my former neighborhood, close-knit & off-road. Dipping in & out of that energy was enervating to Spirit. Each foot of height in the road lifts all of me together.

An Aside: My client is an 89-year-old woman celebrating 90 this weekend. The family gave her the “easy job” of selecting the photos for the family collage. But, 89 is 89 & more inclined to sitting with a good radio program…than to sort through thousands of photos. Now I ask you, ‘was that fair’?

You know, there is a story around everyone, like the tail of a comet passing by. As I learn these, I can tell them well. I’ve written years ago about writing Truth. I have a habit of telling people, go look at my blog, & then if anything happens with them I want to document, guess whut [sic].

Well, those eddies spun me away from the stream! Are we still threaded together? There is, of course, always more.

The longer story I love to jaw with friends disappears at times. I am acquiring a reputation as being curt, abrupt with some; especially in a business transaction. But business has blurred in practice, hasn’t it? When not otherwise actively engaged, I turn into “Officer Carol”, my Libran balance kicked in the shins by the singular impoliteness of a worker on her phone in lieu of hired duty.

These situations rush by me now differently because they no longer rush. Circumstances & situations have slowed down to a manageable pace. I am practicing hard to embody mindfulness – also far past due. It’s arrived with an entourage as well as a flourish.

So, I’ve designed a line of postcards. Plain white, 4 x 6, unusual fonts, thoughts from mine own mind in writing for all to see. I am calling these “Subtitles” since they are the part of the interaction which runs a stealth program under that mindfulness. Diversions. “Somethings Shiny” to use the proper pluralization.

Déja vu … My life in two words.

Do Angels have Tattoos?.

My roommate said red rocks are just sunburned.

I need to invite in the audience for this line of cards; most traffic here is after the memory evoked in a photo & we have umpteen terrific photogs in town. My cards are spare, kinda Art Deco pieces, each one a standalone for sending a friend, making a bookmark, propping on the bedlamp… How much will you pay for a relevant thought?

Meanwhile, I’ll start sending them to my friends all over. How many pictures of them will be taken before they arrive – & after? I can only think in these terms since I believe this line to be captivating & mostly funny.

Well.

Hey, thanks – this is my fork right here … see ya next time. Downriver, right?

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