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"emotion"

Reflection on Imagination - Talons, Fist and Fur



My breath dances in and then out while I wait in the darkness of veiled eyes. Then it comes...

My meadow beneath me, again, welcomes me home. I raise my fist to the sky and he descends. I feel the familiar tearing of my flesh as he settles, talons slicing into my fist. With the agony, I welcome my ancient friend. Blood trails down my arm for a moment and as talon and flesh merge, I heal.

Breath in the darkness...

She strolls to my side, padding heavily upon the turf. She leans against my thigh. Lowering my free hand I find her -fur, thick. Kneeling, I wrap my arm around her and lower my face into hers, breathing deep her scent, scents of death, decay and blood. I so love her primitive cause.

Now we are one, us three. And there, hidden in darkness we know - I miss them when I cannot imagine.


NOTE: Do you value your dreams, your visions beyond reality? Do tell...

Are You Bum Material?



As I strive for self actualization
Demanding more of my mind, spirit and body each day
Determined to succeed, to claim yesterday’s distant horizon
As today’s dawn

It occurs to me that I might have it all wrong
What if these images of status and position
That haunt my mind each evening are self contrived
And the resistance that pushes me backward
Each hard fought day is prophetic

What if my truth is that
This world simply needs another bum?

What if that bum should be me...

[Pausing to consider. considering. seriously considering...]

nope.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 5



My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

5. We all have a life to live - Live It!

Shortly after my mother and father met he told her that he would not live past 36. Strange thing was there was no physical illness or history of family disease to indicate that he would be right. Yet, he was insistent that he knew he would not live past 36. He told my mother this and she believed him. They decided to live life together anyway - until death do we part.

In the 13 years that they had together - they laughed, learned, and enjoyed life. They parented three children and set the stage for their future. They would often forget the ticking of time but for my father's occasional reminders.  He was gentle with his belief, but serious.

In June of 1964 at the age of 36, my father had a massive heart attack and died. He left behind more than his widow and three children. He left behind a life powerfully and well lived that has inspired us to live with death in sight. Life should be lovingly and joyfully lived each day.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 4



My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

4. Be Playfully Mischievous

I'm not sure I can illustrate this lesson clearly, but here goes. It is more the way my mother tells the story than the facts of the story that tell the tale.  My mother is not and never has been a morning person. She does well to drag herself out of bed and make a pot of coffee. Somewhere between the first and second pot, she will become somewhat awake and mildly social. She would sit, head in hand at the kitchen table - internally fighting her way into the day. My dad would always offer a cheerful "Morning Lib!" and lean over and give her a kiss. She would fain a greeting and turn back to her coffee. There was however a wickedly playful side to my father for at some random and totally unpredictable occasions he would lean over to kiss my mother and instead, playfully tap her under her breast. This always startled her and - as she would tell it even today - cause her to be aggravated to the point of amusement.

I believe it was the impish intent of his actions that always charmed her. Void of any ill, he was often playfully mischievous. He kept all of us one our toes and smiling. 

Roadway Epiphany


[NOTE: I've not shared this piece here before, but it isn't new. Enjoy.]


Introduction

I stood in the gallery, surprised. The new Rural Life photo contest had caused me to leave my normally secluded life and travel to Charlotte to view the collection of photography from across the state. I had been enjoying the various landscapes, pictures of freckled faced, overall clad youths and studies on various farm-life objects: plows, daisies growing in tin pots, wagon wheel sentinels on dirt drives. Then there it was; a black and white photograph of a too familiar road, that road. That road, eternally dark and damp, always leading out of town to the same house, the same now seldom remembered history. The story is all but gone as are those who where there, but I, I alone drift back again tonight, to a time before I knew of malformed creatures and a darkness so completely void of light that it could seized your spirit in terror, a time when I was waiting beside that road.

Chapter 1

Evan strained with the tire iron, once more, trying to loosen that last lug nut. The muscles on his back burned, he felt a spasm grab between his shoulders, as the sweat dripped from my brow onto his hands. The iron slipped and he bashed his knuckles on the rim, again.

"Damn it! " he cursed under his breath, dropping the tool and standing, shaking his hand. He checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding...a little drop hung on his knuckle. "Shit. That hurts," he mumbled to himself.

"How do I do these things?" he thought. He stood, the left front tire, flat and torn. One final lug nut remained immovable, between him and the installation of a perfectly good spare

"Gentle now. Breathe man. “Just calm down,” he told himself.

His frustration turned to internal condemnation. "This road. Nobody drives this old road. It goes nowhere. Well, I guess it goes somewhere, or at least did, but, in the last two years of living in this county, I’ve never been down this road. So, why today? Why today do I decide to let my mind wander, clear my head with a drive?"

"Simple. Kelly. I can see the words from her note. They followed all sorts of comments about growing a part...traveling different journeys...yada, yada....then there they were in her own characteristic simple, wonderful, lovely, elegant hand...'so, I’ve decided that the country is not for me at this point in my life, and since you need the space, I’ll not crowd you with my needs. Goodbye.'"

Evans mind started to swim just remembering those words. "Crowd you with my needs," what the hell does that mean? Women!" he shouted to the empty road.

The old truck turned the bend in the road, back toward town where he had come from. "Finally," he sighed in relief. He brushed the dirt from his jeans, grabbed his shirt off of the roof of his old Sebring, made a metal note to get the thing painted soon, and pulled on his shirt on over his chest, just as that rusted old hunk of junk-truck slowed and stopped by him. Evan leaned in the passenger window as the driver asked; "flat?" The voice was as thick as he had heard leaden with a southern twang that almost hurt to hear. The face from which it came had a toothless, unshaven, floppy eared crooked eyed look that made him think of one word, "Deliverance."

"Wanna ride wid me," the driver asked as he grinned and revealed his green teeth?

"I'm ok," Evan lied, "just about finished changing the tire. Thanks anyway."

"Hum,” he grunted, in what was certainly some sort of hick code for disappointment and off he drove. Evan stood and watched as he passed around the bend, and felt relief that he had avoided the world of deliverance, today.

He turn to face his car, again, and reality set in. He was still stranded and the only hope of “deliverance” just drove away, without him. It was getting well into the afternoon, and the only option he could figure was walking. He gathered a few things from the car and decided to hoof it back the 20+ miles. Stiffing his well worn red canvas backpack with a half full bottle of Aquafina, he pulled his ball cap out and flapped it on his head. Turning back to the car, he grabbed an old jacket, watch, and keys from the driver’s seat, tossed them in the pack, zipped it up, and with a click of the key remote, locked the Sebring and began the walk toward town.

The sun was instantly warmer than he'd like, building its heat on his neck and back. Flipping the bill of his cap backwards to shield his neck Evan walked toward town and soon found a rhythm to his stride and room to think. His mind went back to Kelly. Last week...

In Between



dusk and flickering 
candles. 
sensations of 
in between

gentle caresses
the last scent
yesterday's 
cookies, baked 
and eaten. 
in between

a leaf falling 
upward, riding on 
the breeze 
summer's heat
in between

silent breath
your voice 
pausing between 
words
measured with 
care
in between

the end
the beginning

the alpha
the omega

the dream
the reality

we can't live here 
for more than
a moment

in between

Ordinary Man vs Happy Idiot



A few weeks back while mowing the lawn I concluded that everyone should want to be me.

Here's the scene. I'm pushing  the mower across the front lawn in 90+ degree heat, drenched with sweat, listening to some iPod music - exhausted - it occurs to me that I have a modest life. I have a modest home and car both with loans. I'm doing my own lawn work. I'm short, have arthritis, am going bald and I'm over 1/2 a century old. But here's the kicker - I'm deeply happy.

From the outside looking in you might miss it, but I have a wonderful, enjoyable, modest, ordinary life. More of my days are about peace, laughter, satisfaction and joy than not. Yes, I've concluded everyone should want to be me.

Of course, it could be I was permanently affected by the heat and am now just a "happy idiot." I like it.

Since You Asked



Someone, who reads my blog regularly, asked me today "Don't you EVER have a bad day?"

Yes - truly I must confess sometimes I do. Yet, those bad days become blips on my joyful life, mere moments of disconnect and soon my life is back again.

Just as proof - I'll share a few words penned in the midst of one of those disconnected moments.


Please

please, leave me alone
be gone you deafening blanket of despair
be gone

leave, and vacate my soul
let there be emptiness, darkness, nothing, void

please, let there be room for the light again
come, come spirit of hope, feather-light
brilliant presence an uplifting touch
come

please take my down turned chin
lift my face again to the sun. please.

10 Day Changers - #10



There are things I do and say that make my day great. This 10 day series is about those things.



10. Saying "I Thank You". When I say "I thank you" to others, I feel more grateful. Plus, when people hear the 'I" it impacts them more. People do care about others. When I let people know I respect and appreciate them, we all seem to fare better. So, I Thank You for being here today and for sharing in my little 10 Day Changers series.

10 Day Changers - #9



There are things I do and say that make my day great. This 10 day series is about those things.

9. Drive Carefully. When I lock my phone in the glove box and focus 100% on driving. I'm a better driver and when I'm a better driver, I'm a happier person. I can do more to make the roads a better place and, although I might be a bit delusional about this part, it might just catch on and help others change.