Question for the Ages

What is your relationship to Truth? For some, there’s a passing acquaintance only – a two-finger wave getting into the car. I recently saw “Jupiter Ascending” for the second time & marveled when one of the characters said, “Lies are the reason I get up every day.”

Now that should make you shudder, Amen!

Is your relationship to Truth “immersive”? Like walking into the ocean? I remember the day I realized I couldn’t even take a paper clip home from my desk at work. Not that I’m so holy, but it was just so much easier to walk away hands-free & heart open.

Next question: Is honesty Truth? I think it’s like using slices of two different breads. They don’t always match – sourdough & rye, for example. We’re not used to this. My truth may be real to me, but dishonest to you. But my honesty counts towards Truth as I know it.

Children have refreshingly fewer filters on Truth. Art Linkletter used to ask the kids on the show first off, “Now, what did your mom tell you not to tell me?” All sorts of quotable quotes then emerged.

Children enter the world with a broader perceptual spectrum upon which culture starts applying boundaries immediately.  A child soon finds out that a broad spectrum needs to narrow considerably to get along in society. It’s a far lesser bandwidth to occupy; only “admissible” truths meet the criteria – sometimes nothing imaginary and especially nothing which doesn’t support the current belief system.

I know adults who throw up fences as fast as they can when certain topic arises in conversation. One scientist whom I met recently said firmly, “No woo-woo stuff here!” about Tibetan singing bowls being used for physical healing, as she admired another’s playing of her bowl. However, she nodded at the comment, “I feel that tone all through my body.” Well, that’s how the bowls heal, right?

(I used the photo above as it seems to represent a truth all of its own – it was taken at a drumming circle fire in Maine. None of the other photos in the same grouping contain this figure.)

We just need to keep enlarging our truth/Truth by broadening our spectrum to permit others theirs as well, whether imaginary or scientifically proven. We have to be free-range Truth-Seekers to discover what resonates in us for once & all.

 

 

 

Holy Cow?

So the day didn’t start strangely enough at 3:30 a.m. when I woke to the smell of something burning. Like nothing I’d smelled before. I keep the windows open & the odor drifted in to draw me out of my dream. Opening the front door didn’t help, I saw no leaping flames or unusual glows. So I had a coffee, climbed back into bed long enough to pull the covers up & decide I didn’t really want to be there, might as well get up & get started.

Since I was so early, I pulled on my stretchies & a sweatshirt, grabbed a key & the handweights & headed out the door. Across the street was a small chile roaster merrily pumping smoke into the morning air. OH! Overnight brisket cookout.

Up in the hill-fields to my right, a loud moo-ing started up & sounded like a seashore foghorn. I just marched west on Highway 152, taking in the earliness of the day. The sun hadn’t even risen over the foothills east of town, so all was still in cool shade. It felt good to walk, to breathe, to feel the resistance the weights provided.

About two-tenths of a mile out of town, just across the bridge over Percha Creek (pictured above), I noticed a large black, indeterminate mass on the right side of the road. Now, I’ve seen critters around before, why, just yesterday the town’s small herd of mule deer dashed down our main street like a Baskerville Hound had just hit the tarmac behind them. But a large black clump of … something … deserves hesitation & respect & maybe even a quick 180 home. So I walked on a bit less enthusiastically. I wondered if it could be a few turkey vultures having a fast-food roadkill. But this black thing wasn’t really moving like anything I was familiar with.

I slipped closer, at which point, one entirely black mass separated from a black & white one whose lugubrious white face pinned me. It was a Momma Cow curled up roadside & her youngster (the size of a Shetland pony) standing over her. When she rocked up to her feet, I decided a 180 was in order. Turning, I re-crossed the bridge, casting a glance over my shoulder, wondering if they’d follow me back to town or – worse – chase me for some reason. I’d already sized up both sides of the road & I could have made it over the fencing, but not without damage from the bob-wire strands. But the range rovers were gone. Mirage? No, I saw them.

Another 180. Might as well continue my walk if the road’s clear. And at the five-tenths mark, I noticed a loner grazing in the yard where a friend lives. Then I saw my friend’s roommate glide onto the deck with a slingshot & launch at the cow. Which jump-stepped into a trot out of their yard. Ah, the pyrotechnics of my peaceful morning health walk. Hamburger on the hoof, fire to roast it in & no way I was touching either one, even with one of my 3-pound weights.

Now, I wasn’t raised around farm animals. I don’t say anything but good morning to critters I see. Walking east is peaceful, involving only a nod at a yellow-white mule; another time I sighted a gray fox dashing across the street, brush low.

Walking west from town is always an adventure; once there was a yellow dog, head down, hackles raised, growling from the shoulder of the road. I didn’t even share a good morning with that one, its rumbling found me already turning from a good bit away & I was back into town in a jiffy. Another time walking west, I found a raven hopping along the side of the road, looking for all the world like it was searching for a housekey – which it might have been, had the key been shiny.

I guess it was a Mother’s Day sighting. Today the town dusts itself off, trots out the gizmos & doodads for a half-mile yard sale. The annual Mom’s Day weekend tradition seems to be putting out goods only your Mom might remember from the days before GE & Westinghouse infiltrated kitchens.

But I’m kind of glad the bonded pair did not follow me back to town & I had no more sightings except for the birds impatiently waiting for me to exit the picnic table after an al fresco granola breakfast. They’re eager to scarf up the birdseed I put out. Now, that’s about my comfort zone of critter today!

Whew!

Moving Into Fearlessness (A Unity Talk)

Fear is rampant today. It’s all over the newspapers, magazines, movies and every main stream media outlet loves to sell fear to us. It’s generated by TV news, weather reports, the economy, Wall Street, whether the UFO’s will land or the Second Coming will happen first. And yet…and yet, if you put your mind and heart and soul into it, is there anything at all you can do about any of these?

When we are in pain or in fear, we sometimes assume the worst of God. We resist the divine timing of Grace and limit ourselves & the power of love in our lives.

When we live in fear, we live outside of trust – that circle of thinking we are being taken care of by a Loving Creator. We choose to step out of the Light into a dark place. Why? I think it’s because we think Life is safer there. In the dark, we cannot see the size of our Fear Monster. And if you believe in a higher power keeping score of every activity & thought, it surely feels safer in the dark where we seem invisible. We push out the Light in the world. We forget the kindness of strangers.

I read a line recently that said, “his fear felt like swallowed lightning.” Do you remember fear like that?  I do. Since childhood, we may have done a lot of our formative living in a state of fear. Do you remember the first time you felt afraid?

There was Mom or Dad being lining up to yell at us about something, there was falling off the bike, there was Sister Anne Cecelia calling an algebra pop quiz first period, or the other schoolkids ganging up. Fear doesn’t lack for variety… there’s physical fear, mental fear, emotional fear, spiritual fear – take your pick. Or better yet, make the sane choice to not choose any of them!

Louise Hay says: “Fear happens inside when we don’t trust Life. We don’t have trust that we’re being cared for or taken care of on a higher level.” We try to take control of the events in our lives. The other side of control is, guess what? Fear of failure. And although there really are few things we can control, there are a number of choices we can make about feeling fear. One that could have some surprising results is simply choosing NOT to experience fear about our choices.

Trust is what we learn when we overcome our fears. Look again into your memory’s crystal ball – remember how many times you breathed deeply and took that leap of faith and connected yourself to universal Intelligence? You trust the air to be there when you breathe, no? The Power that supplies the air created the universe.

I cordially invite you to pinch yourself – do you trust that are you alive? Do you know what gives you life? There’s a really fine balance the body maintains in its chemistry, its cellular structures, its organ systems. All of these work without our knowing just exactly how. Do you trust your stomach to digest what you eat? Do you trust your ears to hear what you are being told and relay it to your brain for processing? I trust the next cell forming in my body to know whether it’s an eyelash or a toenail. I’m not in charge of any of that, but I trust the process, and I trust that I can always improve the process.

I was able to get over my biggest fear. My biggest fear wasn’t moving forward. It was remaining in the life I had created for myself. I didn’t want to live at the level of emotional survival. I wanted to just plain live, I wanted to experience moments of ineffable beauty, full-filling Joy, peer relationships & returned love.

If you knew me then and you asked me, I would have said my cup was half-full. But I know, now that I have more perspective, that my truth was sitting across the table from me scowling at the baldness of that lie.

When I decided to take a do-over on my life, it took every resource on hand. It took a million lists & all the money I had in the world. It meant relying on a promise from the Social Security Administration that they’d really give me my retirement money. It took a new boss who came into the job with an attitude to sit on my head until she hatched out the administrative assistant she wanted. Unfortunately, that gal had left the building quite some time before.

It took every self-help book I’d skimmed over in the Unity bookstore, and every sermon I’d heard after five years of careful listening.

Here’s what happened: Fear had become for me the imposing curtain hiding the Wizard. I trembled at what might be behind it. That curtain was my Ego. It wasn’t until my soul, my trusty little bright-eyed Toto soul, caught the edge of it on the run & whipped it away from the Great Illusion that I was able to unveil my life, to let go of what I really didn’t even own. It wasn’t until the moment that the reality of my half-empty existence smacked me upside my head. I woke up.

I woke up to the knowledge that all my life had been a 50-50 – much like a PTA raffle. Living, dying, happy, sad – all of these were choices I made on a moment-by-moment basis. I’m so glad Toto wasn’t buying any of it! I’m so glad my soul got all up in my face and insisted I choose just how I planned to live for the rest of this life.

Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real.

Fear: Face Everything & Run!

Fear: Face Everything & Rise!

You know, we always have the opportunity to return to Love – re-turn to God as the Source of all love. Jesus called God Father; but in the Aramaic language He spoke, where one word can have up to 42 meanings, the words “father” and “mother” meant more than biology.  Father and Mother both mean “BELOVED.” Think on that: Beloved. Who best to turn our fear over to than the One Who loves us unequivocally no matter what we do? And when we turn the fear around, Jesus is the one standing closest by to lend a hand.

Don’t let fear get comfortable around you. Start asking it some hard questions when it shows up:

 What are YOU doing here?

What do YOU have to do with anything going on right now?

What’s your real deal?

Everything you’re afraid of is subject to that 50-50 rule. Few of us lead perfect lives. If Shakespeare was right & all the world’s a stage, the footlights pick up every flaw. Society loves its little game of perfection. But we don’t get to have our lives airbrushed. Heck, half the time we don’t even get to go to the groomers once a month for a shampoo & a flea-dip.  Each time we “do” fear; we lose light. And our only real purpose for being here is to bring light into being.

Speaking metaphysically, the word “fear” is used to denote reverence or respect for the law of God.  It really means “Pay Attention!” As in “pay attention, you’re standing at the edge of a cliff.” Or “pay attention, you’re crossing the freeway & there’s no crosswalk here.”

Every angel who ever showed wings to a person opened the conversation with two words: FEAR NOT. After all our prayers for help from above, our first reaction to divinity showing up is an abject need for reassurance!

Did you know that the word human is two parts. “Hu” is ancient word for God. It is a word people anywhere can use to address the Originator of Life.  To be Human then is to be God in Man. Not only does God have our back, God leads each of us every step along our way. It’s important to walk our talk: wherever God is, all is well. Wherever God is, fear cannot exist. Creation may be broken, but the Creator isn’t.

 

Facing the Face in the Mirror

I sometimes think about all the mirrors I have faced in this life. There was an old limerick I memorized decades ago that went something like this:

“As a beauty I am not a star

There are others more lovely by far

But my face? I’m behind it

I really don’t mind it

It’s the people in front that I jar.”

I probably made faces at myself in the mirror as a child. My first real memories of staring into mirrors come with adolescence. My hair, my face, the idea of makeup, whether my figure figured for anything at all unless I invented another reality around it…

I do recall one night when I sat in front of the TV at age eight or so, brushing and brushing my hair. It felt so silky as I stroked it with the other hand, so soft. Actually, it felt beautiful. When I just had to gaze upon this wonder, I stood and made my way to the bathroom. My hair stood straight out around my face, a 180 degree halo of electricity still crackling with energy. Since I had pictured long waves lying tamely in some perfect bob, I was shocked beyond my ability to measure.

I have never much cared for pictures of myself. In this I am like my mother who really didn’t like having her photo taken. Actually, in so many ways I am like my mother, who also lived alone at the seashore toward the last part of her life. She cooked. I write.

Recently I stripped down, stood in front of the mirror in soft afternoon light, gathering up the Babylonian garden of adipose I seem to have cultivated to hide the grim seam of my hysterectomy scars. There is more emotion in those scars then I have yet been able to face. My life was cut apart with them, my femininity removed in a most unforgiven way. I was made into a eunuch, spayed like any uncontrolled animal. But it differentiated me in a manner perhaps the mad society of physicians would never have expected or condoned. So I have lived with it, simply padding the scars with layers.

Mirrors used to be kinder to my face. I recall once in a coffee shop as I waited to be cashed out that I looked to the back wall & saw someone who looked a bit familiar. My first thought was, “I’d really like to get to know her.” My second was, “Oh my God, that’s me!”

Mirrors now are magical. They show me a face lined, seamed, wrinkled, creased and squared off around the jaws. They single out the tiny hairs along my upper lip & chin, which have gone salt & pepper in some equal opportunity burst of neopolitik. They are familiar friends & a burst of heightened reality I can barely face. The magic comes because I always think, “this isn’t even what I look like!”

I have achieved an uneasy peace with my mirror. I ask it only to reflect back my good qualities but it is unerring in its nonjudgmental work. It simply is. I simply am to it. Mirrors are all surface; I only think they reflect the depth I try to see in them. Mirrors are always certain of how I look to the world. I am always hoping to regain something forever put aside now.

I may stare occasionally, but I don’t gaze any longer. I may be here now seeing what I see, what is faithfully shown back, but it is just behind my eyes that my truest reflection awaits.

 

Existential Co-Existence

 

I used to say “coincidence” until that graduated fully into “synchronicity.” Now beyond even that word, a galactic meeting at a nexus: Co-existence. Whoever doesn’t believe we are a one-cell being is far down the line. We are who/where/what we are & only one “w” will take you far enough to see them all piled up like corn shucks in the barn.

Practice Life like you’re serious about getting into it. Be a conscious sovereign to your soul & higher self. Birth occurs in you all the time. You freed the wheel & are acutely aware of its freedom as it rolls you onward. Haven’t you been you long enough to know what’s best?

How many times better – and how/in what ways – are you? What’s that say, where will you take that discussion to? It deserves to be a thread, one to record your life around God’s finger for God has many Hands.

If you hesitate here, you have met one of those Hands & we are touched daily. I am a voice across the water gathering wind energy to trim my wings with flight.

I meet myself, or characters so like me & always naked in the crowd, unafraid & relaxed.

You said earlier you are a tool of the broken world yet you have recovered nicely from this unorganized thought. Every incursion into the realm of the heart comes away red. We die for our passions but better that, than to die to them.

When in doubt, reach for the agreement. Thus, once removed from the Pit, you can make your way into Forgiveness. Ego should be relegated to the shed in the backyard while Higher Self occupies the manse. If there’s anything going on other than that, best bring in Ego for questioning.

Higher Self recognizes Ego can be enlarged to take into the Meld. Ego is damn sure it was only following orders but sheepishly admits maybe it wasn’t really you giving them. Ego’s gotten quite accustomed to taking charge. It’s had to for the most part.

Not every Higher Self remembers where they put their keys. When life gets interesting, each searches its own, not understanding the better way through is together.

There seems a slowness to the Meld. But those who fly, those who complete the entire Discovery Pantheon teach us patience. We use that to forgive ourselves more quickly. But here it is, folks: we must pick up the pace!

Youniverse is no longer granting quite the same allowance to shortcutting time or altering perception. We call down our fate with every word & it would get more than interesting when the first 100 humans hit the same note. The dominoes don’t fall, they spin & dance as their spots disengage. The black & white of yin/yang balances one wish at a time.

Wish with all your heart. There have been so many times you’ve done this: no matter how many wishes you make, there’s always room for more!

Put that wish into a beam of light. Choose a color, a pulse, a signal code. When we light up, God takes note.

There are many lives I had which were given to the simplest notion that God is All There Is. My God lives everywhere & has too many names because more keep speaking forth. Like Hands, God also has many Tongues.

How does it happen we all confide ourselves imprudently & impudently? Being who we are has never been so important. When it seems there is too much darkness, bespeak the Light to banish it. You’ll never weaken have you that energy of God which is Creation. Creating is God’s endless exploration of Self through Us.

We are called now to reunite our thinking into one coalescent coalition of thought: God Is. I Am That I Am.

This is all it takes. And one by one we master our eyes with or without Higher Self’s help. The key is to use it as the tool to get moving/keep moving into God.

I wouldn’t dare offer you another name for God, but I know we can agree on some version of the many names available. Choose one comfortable for your personal reference & inference.

Leaving the ego is uncomfortable enough, I say. Add to that your Higher Self threading into your thoughts … you become a breezeway for the breath of your God.

Enter “Error Thinking”

Some of the beliefs we have would serve change or at least can process the same in a new way were we to be renewed. I think we can render up the rendition we currently are & get the newer model. Enough has changed.

Indeed, enough of us have changed. We have attracted the attention, finally, of God. I’d like to think God went on creating & never left us behind. But God waits for us to create independently of its image. Truthfully, we were just a little mix-up in the Milky Way where the outlaws wound up when they wanted to act out in a really bad way.

We had a lot in the mix, many races, many faces and many renditions of God. It is time to put at least 80% of that aside & focus our majority on positive, growing, graced change. Rather than using that remaining 20% usually allocated, putting 80% of our attention on God would be a real turnaround in human behavior. Soon I see the set-aside of harm as a consequence of each positive thought.

Like sunflowers in a field, there are masses of us facing the sun. As our duplicity is suspended, we glimpse other ways to think about things. If we married our perceptions, what could we not accomplish?

I listen to many gurus & the variety of information they bring. Often one will speak a wise thought & all the others will fall into line with it without even knowing they are doing so. Those who diverge seem to travel too far for me to follow.

I’m no engineer, but I’m old enough to heed a lot of theories about how things work. And I have become aware of that variety that just don’t & never will.

One program constantly running is violence. We are far beyond violence now; it has triggered the vile in us too long. We are experiencing undeclared war everywhere. What seems ordinary in its constancy has deceived us for violence is apostasy.

We have a violent virulent cadre on this earth. So many want control with no understanding of free will. Yet free will is dominant, rampant, bent on a deliberately twisted strand. Free will meets ego & becomes war.

But many of us are so over war. There doesn’t seem to be a cause over which I’d find it worthwhile to lose a limb, or my mind.

I sound like a mass of contradictions or maybe just one massive contradiction.

It’s going to take a lightning strike of pure gold to reset our hearts, to make them dominant in our lives. Some Celestial Remote will be pushed & we will all turn at once to face our God, like sunflowers in that field I talked about earlier.

Know what? God will be waiting, all smiles & open arms. Race you!

 

Some Days

The hourglass spins on gimbals, tapped into motion by Youniverse. The sand spills through the wasp-waisted opening, which doubles as a Stargate.

Then we wait for an event, a move, a collaboration of time & effort to morph into change. Time is like a cat: purring one moment, snarling to slash the next. We can neither account for it nor accommodate it, yet we must do both. And for a lifetime!

“Time can be a false, flawed notion,” gurus tell us uninformed folks just living through it. Us folks living with clocks in every room, deadlines in every doorway, ticking on our wrists, floating on our phones, glowing from walls, towers, signs, devices, always.

I just read The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom. It is quite the study of time & its [possible] inventor. It won’t take long to read it, if you catch it at your local library. Once time was invented & people caught onto it, Time launched into an egotistical, demanding tyrant, the imperious ruler of mirrors where, incredibly, it allows no pause to reflect upon it.

Time swallows everything you can throw at it – relationships, possessions, childhoods – without a belch or a bubble. Next to Love, it is the most spoken of, talked around, sung of topic.

When Time dissolves in the salt of our fears, we will be polished to the bone & ready to move forward free from its hungry grasp. We will drop all the numbers, turn up our faces & fly.

 

Tuesdays

There was a beginning & there will be an ending, but I always seem to be in the story’s middle. The part where the beginning is so far back it’s not even a dim memory. The part where the future disappears into a great cloud of unknowing.

The sages tell me I’m responsible for my consciousness in all three zones while the pundits tell me get to the point! (Is there a point of “know returns?”)

Meanwhile, all I am aware of is the dailiness of Now; whatever changes occurs in this moment, uninformed or wise. But change takes place so slowly until, suddenly, it does not. Change accelerates & decelerates of its own will. Change dissembles, seeming to be one thing & then – blink – another! Both theatre & dance, stillness & movement, fractal & whole. A Trinity of Time: past/present/future.

No wonder we take drugs which alter time. No wonder we believe in unbelief as belief can take so long to manifest. Unbelief is simpler somehow, if less fulfilling.

The future is contained in a kaleidoscope where each incremental change brings exchange in time-space. Or is it space-time? How will we ever know?

I do things for the simple sake of doing. We all do, no? we spend money not yet earned. We exact wishes rubbing on an imaginary magic lamp. We expect the Youniverse to respond to our heart when sometimes our hearts aren’t even on the same wavelength.

Each day of my life, my life disappears; small bites nibbled from the timespan. I seem to be caught in its alimentary tract, inanimate until digested. I make a smooth contact, like a receptor into a brain cell,  then into light-life I spring.

The Winter Home

Farewell daylight savings time

Long-lasted hours of darkness

Cloaked invisibly about me.

Goodbye the sweetly dreamed

Brought on by heavy covers pressing me into sleep,

With only my nose exposed to brightcold air.

 

I shall miss the sly-bold pride

Of rising hours before the world’s light

Far ahead of the Sleepers…

Now the days no longer round their way to bed

But perceive it as an interception to the light’s

Sharper edge, murmuring

“Stay awake!” “There’s more!” “Don’t go!”

Rambling

What is inner; what outer? How can I convey the utter timelessness of this place & what this conveys to me? The nourishment to my soul; the expansion of my heart as I try to encompass the environment too large for li’l ole me to assimilate…how can I relay these feelings?

I move in a kind of concert with the ground, my eyes roving over the rolling landscape. I can understand why being on horseback is the way to really see this land – the height increase, even of a few feet, lifts one over the low-growing shrubs & permits a wider angle of view of a territory so vast it can only be appreciated in increments. Much as my eyes would love to take this all in, I see it in layers & slices: I perceive a tree, a cloud train looking for all the world like an ephemera of mountains, white shadows of the peaks below so solidly holding up the horizon. I long to be walking all over it while knowing there are slants & dips & lifts & hollows which would swallow me indifferently as a leaf blown from a tree. Nothing is as important as this gravity of gravel & grit; I don’t even register as an afterthought to this landscape, after all.

Here & there the risings of land are slashed open. What seems like a small crevice is wide enough to pull a car through. The distance shrinks the measure. Close up, I revise any thoughts I had on, “That’s not so big, is it?” Indeed it is. What caused this separation in the land? Is this how whole continents pulled apart in division later magnified by water? And where is the water here? How did it figure in…or did the land simply pull itself apart, divided by time & climate?

And after I see the dizzying enormity of it all, I realize I hear nothing. At all. I feel my ears expanding into satellite dishes on either side of my head as they attempt to hear the silence. I am so unused to absence of sound. No rustling of trees, no lapping waters, no traffic noise. I will have to become accustomed to this by retraining other senses.

I will never know the answers fully for how I respond to this environment. But that won’t stop the questions either.

Rain

4/28-29/17

The rain woke me after midnight. This is the first rain since I’ve been here, just over a month now. I thought at first it was leaves tapping against the concrete walkway outside. I thought, “more sweeping to do” as I’ve swept every day, sometimes twice to keep the walk clear. Saves the heavier work of vacuuming what is tracked or blown in the door.

As I surfaced from full sleep, I realized there could be no leaves this crispy in spring…

This rain is tentative but steady, tap-tapping on the metal roof. I climb from bed to make a cup of chai, and return to cover up & sip it. And listen, cup in one hand, pen in the other. The heavy curtains belly out with that distinctive fragrance: Rain In The Desert. The Balinese cow bell serving as my doorbell sounds quietly, announcing a soft gusting accompaniment of breeze.

(In the desert, the smell of moisture precedes it, distinct & heady from the usual baked-sand scent. This rain will help to settle some of the dust raised by the highway department lately on a mission to dump yet more dirt. This seems to me an exercise in futility since dirt is hardly scarce here & quite abundantly distributed. But with their arcane signage & the unexplained descent of men in orange vests driving orange earthmovers, there is nothing to do but obey the “stop” & “go” of their outriders.  I question their purpose & their presence, especially when they leave the soil on the roadway – the one place it was not before their unexplained project. Are they burying us in more?)

When I thought the rain had passed by & started to doze again, another mild volley begins. I can feel the trees outside expanding, the weeds under them reaching out for sustenance. Are there others brewing tea & returning to cover up their legs in bed, just listening to the fall? A rare & delightful sound, a “joyful noise.” Who else in town lies awake scenting this perfume of suspended water falling on a dry world? More than I know? Fewer than I think?

Geoengineering has upended the weather patterns. The changes in Mother Nature herself wing out from that foul ruination of climate integrity. As the sun rolls from yellow to white & the clocks continue a relentless march forward, tonight’s quiet cleansing gentles the planet: rhythmic, soulful, fragrant, musical.

I pull the covers up to my ears & return to sleep, listening to the lullaby.

 

Hillsboro

This is my reality now: sun-filled days, whirring wings, the strange, coaxing cries of ring-neck pigeons. A tan-white cat with arctic eyes who visits, meowing, for a pet & a pat. A bedroom in pale green; a bed with a hard mattress I settle into carefully at night. Three deep sinks & water that heats up just as I’m finishing the dishes.

The ocean is above in the sky now, endlessly blue with irregular white waves of cloud. My life is organized as I want it to be, with no commitments other than what I make, no activities other than what I put myself forward to do.

I am rounder here without the regularity of the gym to help. I need a bigger commitment & heavier weights to trim off & I have not yet committed to these. One day soon, though, I will do so.

Here I am not concerned about my age anymore. I don’t fetch up four times a day telling myself I’m a septuagenarian. I don’t feel it here: the light has made me lighter of thought.

I notice things more or I notice more things. It is easier to be kind. I enjoy dressing nicely each day & I really enjoy having nice clothes to dress in. I find myself watching much that goes by, cars, people, animals. The stars seem to wink on when the sky goes black – some celestial switch is flipped. The moon carries proudly into the morning & remains visible most of the day; you just have to look for it. Today is the first day I have thought about seagulls.

History is harsh here, dusty & drowned in risen rivers. In its beginnings as a mining town, there was little enough law (and strangely, this still seems to be of minimal presence as drivers fly through at all speeds except that cited on the limit signs.) There were no rescue groups to distribute blankets & water when tragedy struck. There were raiding Apaches versus “decent” households – huts built on stolen land where the warriors did not want habitation by whites to root or grow. To them, we were the pests with our domestications & demands upon the land, with our claims to scarce water & women dressed in layers & men in hot collars & coats, the children like children everywhere, wild-eyed but brought up to obey, so conflicted (as perhaps even today) by reality & what was passing for civilization. The East imported to the West was an unfitted overlay. Adaptation to local habits was “going native” with all the negative connotations thereto. We are a mixed-match, a blended heritage, a small, tightly-knit community where everyone knows something else about who you are.

I could vacuum everyday so I learn to live with tiny leaves shaped like small dimes carried in on my sandals. Flip-flops pick up grit in the toes – a startling pain – unless I’m staying on the map-cracked sidewalk, I wear closed-toe shoes.

Perhaps the history impacts more here since I grew up at the seashore & so know that with my blood. There is a taut ethic called into survival by realism: cactus, snakes, endless & unmarked space in all directions. Yet I love it & there is a westernized me indwelling, caught up in every breeze & flicker of light dancing among the leaves.

Here I can live as though I belong. Here I can make choices not based on need, but based on a personal truth. Here I can notice what does not belong to me & set that much more aside for recycle.

I have all I need.