There is always something that I’m thinking about. Pen and paper consists of my eyes and brain. Thinking is a visual thing, we “think” in pictures. My hands have been busy with everyday tasks but my thoughts are ever present and so they log in seconds and minutes, hours and days, months that lead to years. There are scores of bloggers and I am but one among many. My words are for me and for those that choose to stop in and take a glance. It is not the pursuit of fame nor fortune that makes me write. I write because I enjoy it. Not in the every single day writing law. I just don’t do it. Reading is a part of me and I will write out things that I’m studying on. These things are in my makeup. I ponder and reflect, but it does not find its way out into the world most of the time. It is within the confines of my inner self. Me. I.  .  The part that is mysterious even to the person. 

This evening was a time that my fingers wanted to feel the smooth plastic and hear the rhythmic beat spelling out thoughts within the space of nothingness that I can’t explain, but see via the internet. 

I wonder…I think…I write. 

I hope you enjoy it. 

Thank you for stopping by. 

Morning Walk…

August 5, 2015

 Walking helps me when things start to press upon my mind and spirit. We all have things that bear down upon us, even though outwardly we continue to chin up and carry on. Occasionally, when replying to the standard greeting from the cashier of, “How are you?”, I’ll look them in the eye and state, “Lousy.” Watching their startled face and without missing a beat,I’ll break into a smile and assure them I just wanted to see their reaction. As of date, they’ve all been good natured, perhaps a bit pleased to not hear the mundane answer of, “I’m fine…” . It gives both of us a chance to see the other as persons outside the robotic role of cashier-and-customer-assembly-line.

At the park the baseball field is being mowed, tennis courts are occupied, and people on the green are swinging their clubs. Exiting my car with keys, cellphone, and umbrella, trees ,parking lots, and picnic tables are in view. I walk leisurely , taking in sights, smells, and movement. The umbrella shields my fair skin from the sun’s fierce smile in the already 83 degree temperature. 

 Looking across the road, I spot the large yellow Union Pacific boxcar.  I remember the one from my own small hometown park. It was as red as the wasps that built their nests in it every Spring and made you run when you entered their territory. Making my way towards the side of the stadium, I look at the scattered tufts of grass and weeds poking their heads through the cracked asphalt. I wonder at them. Some withstood the toil of pushing and heaving their way to the surface, while others died a straw colored languishing.

Rounding the side, I start back. To my right, the increasing slope holds large gray rocks. Staring intently I see the recognition of a pastel drawing I made back in  high school art class. Did I somehow draw my young future before it happened? 

  My life, the drawing, and facing these rocks fit together. I search above them  and see them decrease the closer they come to the main road. They are replaced with earth and grass, which wave to me from above. No more rocks.

This is a strong symbol for me. I struggled to climb the rocks all those years. I finally see now. There is something beyond the rocks. There is soil, there is grass…even if not the most green, even if the earth is dry…the rain comes and replenishes both…and there is a road…one that I want to take beyond the rocks.

Everything that exists has always existed. Maybe not as we can ‘see’ it but it is there. Body, mind, soul, and spirit all connect to various aspects of this even if we don’t get it. Ever feel overwhelmed, like there is too much out there? Too much crying and whining. Boo hoo hoo. I’m a victim. They are mean, cruel, …ignorant. Too nice, too sweet, too soft hearted. Need to be stronger, wiser, smarter, more…tolerant. So MUCH need to be, should be, can be, will be, BETTER BE…or ELSE. The entire world is in dire need of putting its heart back in the proper place. The chest…and off the sleeve. The chest is the proper place. The wearing of the heart on one’s sleeve leaves the heart open to spills, crying, bruises, even getting pieces of it scraped or torn away. The heart is central to being. Put it back where it belongs. Protect it. Do not leave it open to life’s absurdities. When in the proper place it connects with the body, mind, soul, and spirit. Otherwise, it is simply an outer adornment that is subject to change with the latest trend. Keep it with all diligence.

Morning is past the light has gone
Evening tide rolls thick with fog
Soon night shall claim a restless soul
Whose mind and heart with sorrow untold
Once hope did breathe so shallow there
Within the being of one so fair
Small child of yesterday in time
I weep I weep dear child o’ mine
The tears that flow down cheeks of kin
Spill for the life that might have been
God knows the reasons and the why
So He may comfort by and by
If mercy shows His part Divine
Then heart and soul can rest in time

Copyright 2013