Remind me next time:
Limit the realm of possibilities to those that will support and contribute.
Stay off the electronics and the fascinating nesting doors that lead to unfulfillment.
Know that the housework will still need to be done.
Print the hardcopy, lay it out, and scribble away.
Assemble, mix, layout, and edit again.
Got the monkey off my back after days of postponing, fretting,
and tending to other tasks:
memorizing a poem,
sewing 6 semi-dresses,
baking 2 loaves of bread,
preparing 2 substantial meals and restoring the kitchen each time,
wondering why other interests have not been more deeply explored.
and yet, and yet a sense of being adrift
until I hear the voice and feel the rhythm running through my hands again
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Monday, August 21, 2017
Solar
Get off the damn computer and take a two-hour time-out.
An early Fall mid-morning, with so much fog and overcast conditions that the sun's location was a mystery unless you knew this place earlier. As the moon began to cover the sun, the sky became slightly darker as though a storm was approaching. The air became very quiet. More quiet than usual at this time? we don't know, but we heard birds, people, and traffic one hour later, far off in the distance, which created stark audio relief to the quieter darkening sky. As the sky changed, the silence pressed in with the darkness. When the sky lightened to the glare of overcast conditions, birds began to fly again. A flock of crows flew to the tall (they must be at least 30 feet) trees in the distance, several blocks down the street. A hummingbird chirped as it drew from flowers near me. I returned to my reading, then departed soon afterward.
Time to hit the water soon.
An early Fall mid-morning, with so much fog and overcast conditions that the sun's location was a mystery unless you knew this place earlier. As the moon began to cover the sun, the sky became slightly darker as though a storm was approaching. The air became very quiet. More quiet than usual at this time? we don't know, but we heard birds, people, and traffic one hour later, far off in the distance, which created stark audio relief to the quieter darkening sky. As the sky changed, the silence pressed in with the darkness. When the sky lightened to the glare of overcast conditions, birds began to fly again. A flock of crows flew to the tall (they must be at least 30 feet) trees in the distance, several blocks down the street. A hummingbird chirped as it drew from flowers near me. I returned to my reading, then departed soon afterward.
Time to hit the water soon.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Heightened
News of the sudden collapse and death of someone close in age and temperament reminds me to savor all that is in this life. No (well, only a few) regrets.