I want to know this - What is the best coffee experience you have ever had?
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"meanderings"
I don’t care how good you are, life is formidable!
I am thinking today that living life on life’s terms is a lot like the impact of the knife blade on the wet stone. You explore the analogy for yourself, and if you like, share your thoughts in the comments below.
I’d love to read them.
seeking a hike
pounding the sod
finding a beat
gathering a song
starting a dance
By the last micro thread of the spider’s web
Hanging
In a delicate balancing between desire to be free
From the casket of this cocoon
And to be safe from the fall to the ground
How came I upon this entanglement
But by little things, single threads of erroneous
Actions
Quiet discontentment resting feather-light
Clinging unassumingly to the sleeve of my façade
Until
Movement through my own self
Became hindered and slowly, progressed to
Halting proportions lost in one immobile
Case
Suspended by the last filament of my attachment
To you
Hanging
In a delicate balancing between desire to be free
From the casket of this cocoon
And to be safe from the fall to the ground
How came I upon this entanglement
But by little things, single threads of erroneous
Actions
Quiet discontentment resting feather-light
Clinging unassumingly to the sleeve of my façade
Until
Movement through my own self
Became hindered and slowly, progressed to
Halting proportions lost in one immobile
Case
Suspended by the last filament of my attachment
To you
Dang it Dena! I would have been more than able to create a new post, but NO you had to demand one. Now, I am at a total loss… well, when in doubt, REPOST!
"A friend told me this today.
"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea."
I just thought I would share."
I’ve had a battle with a nasty head/chest cold the last couple of days. I’m getting better.
Such times are a reminder to me of my need to be flexible, to allow for change. Life changes, my life changes. I don’t count it as a bad thing that I get so enmeshed in the work of living each day that I lose touch with my own frailty. It is somewhat necessary to forget that any moment life can rip us from our seemingly normal path and demand something else of us. Such a continuous awareness – of my frailty – would be immobilizing.
But, when sickness or injury comes, it is interesting to witness the struggle I have to allow for them – life changes.
Today my chest burns, my eyes are puffy, my nose and throat are tender, and it is too much effort to think and plan for tomorrow – as much as tomorrow may need plans. Today my reason is tainted by surges of emotions that hack away at my serenity and taunt my self-worth. Physical and emotional sicknesses seem to be dear bedfellows, with me at least.
So, I’ll rest and limit my number of decisions. Sometimes doing nothing is the best choice. I’ll sip tea, read and sleep and let the world wait – for me.
As you were… -cough, cough-
Such times are a reminder to me of my need to be flexible, to allow for change. Life changes, my life changes. I don’t count it as a bad thing that I get so enmeshed in the work of living each day that I lose touch with my own frailty. It is somewhat necessary to forget that any moment life can rip us from our seemingly normal path and demand something else of us. Such a continuous awareness – of my frailty – would be immobilizing.
But, when sickness or injury comes, it is interesting to witness the struggle I have to allow for them – life changes.
Today my chest burns, my eyes are puffy, my nose and throat are tender, and it is too much effort to think and plan for tomorrow – as much as tomorrow may need plans. Today my reason is tainted by surges of emotions that hack away at my serenity and taunt my self-worth. Physical and emotional sicknesses seem to be dear bedfellows, with me at least.
So, I’ll rest and limit my number of decisions. Sometimes doing nothing is the best choice. I’ll sip tea, read and sleep and let the world wait – for me.
As you were… -cough, cough-
As I strive for self actuation
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?
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?
There are certain words, that if you are going to use them, you should really know what they mean. Today’s example includes three words with related, but quantifiably different meanings. Read on, dear reader and just feel the brain matter expanding.
Our words are: Moron, Imbecile and Idiot. According to a very old and not necessarily contemporary dictionary of mine, these words reflect classifications of mental aptitude related to a person’s IQ.
Idiot = < 25 IQ
Imbecile = 25-50 IQ
Moron = 50-75 IQ
Therefore, while it may make sense to proclaim, “Don’t be an idiot, you moron!” Stating, “You’re a moron, you idiot,” would be a compliment – of sorts. Which begs the question, which is worse, a moronic idiot, or an imbecilic moron?
Aren’t you glad you stopped by?
Our words are: Moron, Imbecile and Idiot. According to a very old and not necessarily contemporary dictionary of mine, these words reflect classifications of mental aptitude related to a person’s IQ.
Idiot = < 25 IQ
Imbecile = 25-50 IQ
Moron = 50-75 IQ
Therefore, while it may make sense to proclaim, “Don’t be an idiot, you moron!” Stating, “You’re a moron, you idiot,” would be a compliment – of sorts. Which begs the question, which is worse, a moronic idiot, or an imbecilic moron?
Aren’t you glad you stopped by?
I believe we all wander through life, at times or for a time, cloaked with various masks, skins of textured facades, living as much with our fabricated external selves as with our inner truth. Therein rests our deepest self, the pain, loss, ache of life’s journeys won and lost. Therein lies that being so often sought and revered as the true self, the real us – with its’ complete measure of joy and depth.
Yet, is either the outer or inner more real? Are we not both mask and soul?
The beauty and grace of the dance, without the well hidden strain and sweat of the all but stumbling artist would not exist, nor would the precarious effort have any value, but for the fabric of the art finding form.
It is a dance, of sorts, this thing we call life - isn't it?
Yet, is either the outer or inner more real? Are we not both mask and soul?
The beauty and grace of the dance, without the well hidden strain and sweat of the all but stumbling artist would not exist, nor would the precarious effort have any value, but for the fabric of the art finding form.
It is a dance, of sorts, this thing we call life - isn't it?
Why is it that we insist, and I do mean “we” for it is my plot as well, in making sense of life – our life? Making sense of it all is a feeble attempt to remove the inherent mystery of life. Life does not ‘make sense’ if we mean by such rhetoric that life can be fully understood and explained in the same manner one might give directions to a favorite restaurant.
Myth, mystery, paradigm are words more akin to describing life, one’s life, one’s journey. Yet, we persist in trying to explain and reason our way through this existence and hope that we can find enough solidity so we may linger for another moment in the vain and frail belief of a life that makes sense. When in fact, are we not confounded by our attempts at truth and fact?
We are left with nothing more than the necessity of surrender as we fall into the chasm that reason cannot grasp and find there not a plummet to the death, but rather a descent of rapturous delight engulfing the senses that plays ever so amusingly with our spirit and carries us aloft, not down, and sets us once again on the seemingly solid ground of tomorrow. There we can imagine that we are secure, safe, and reasonable – until life comes passing again and we are unable to understand, forced to believe in and then against reason, again.
Ours is a riotous ride of delight.
Myth, mystery, paradigm are words more akin to describing life, one’s life, one’s journey. Yet, we persist in trying to explain and reason our way through this existence and hope that we can find enough solidity so we may linger for another moment in the vain and frail belief of a life that makes sense. When in fact, are we not confounded by our attempts at truth and fact?
We are left with nothing more than the necessity of surrender as we fall into the chasm that reason cannot grasp and find there not a plummet to the death, but rather a descent of rapturous delight engulfing the senses that plays ever so amusingly with our spirit and carries us aloft, not down, and sets us once again on the seemingly solid ground of tomorrow. There we can imagine that we are secure, safe, and reasonable – until life comes passing again and we are unable to understand, forced to believe in and then against reason, again.
Ours is a riotous ride of delight.