Therapy aside, I have nothing to say. How can something that is such a chore be therapeutic?
Maybe that’s why it is.
Maybe I’ll have something to say tomorrow.
Maybe not.
Oliver
Therapy aside, I have nothing to say. How can something that is such a chore be therapeutic?
Maybe that’s why it is.
Maybe I’ll have something to say tomorrow.
Maybe not.
Oliver
It’s cold. Rainey. Not much snow but some. I am north; near the ocean. The image gives hint.
Chirstmas. Again. This time, I travel the world instead of just my imagination. A year ago, I contemplated starting a blog in video. Many things were learned from that but little of what I truly sought. More confusion than concretized solutions really.
I sit in a rustic cabin, ocean to my front, forest to my back, and the sound of both compete for clarity. That is my life. Two streams, both pulling focus with little success. I, in the middle, am like the wood burning stove that warms my cabin. Its crackle centers the commotion from outside as I the cotter pin tying two diverse lives together.
I look not for answers anymore but instead search the high seas of experience like an explorer of time past blowing about on oceans unknown hoping to discover the great find of my time … who am I? The answer to that may be the answer to many individual’s inquiries into themselves yet unsolved.
Merry Christmas by the way. I did not set up a tree this year. It seemed a bit silly with the competition going on just outside in the woods. I thought it was lonely in my house. Travelling is far lonelier. No one knows me when I buy that cup of coffee as I move from place to place. The walls around me are not those of a house but those of utter isolation. I am truly a stranger now.
I hope Oliver’s first Christmas in this realm was not so challenging as his Thanksgiving. I hope that both he and Melanie were able to exchange the gift of companionship on this loneliest of all holidays. I would enjoy a cup of conversation or a moment of familiar faces. Truly, that is what this moment in time is, familiarity in the middle of each year’s chaos.
I sit straddling the competing frequencies of ocean and forest. They hum a siren’s song I cannot understand that feeds on some unknown past. A past of either here or there I cannot say.
Happy Holidays to all.
Moses
Two birds, both dead, in the gutter of a very busy street. At first, I only saw the larger one, a falcon. I’ve never seen a bird of prey in a gutter. It caught my attention. Then I noticed a pigeon lying next to it just as dead.
I sat down on the curb looking at those lifeless creatures trying to piece together the puzzle. Cars sped by creating puffs of wind on my face. It had been a chase, both intent on individual goals, one striking out at a meal, the other trying not to be that meal. They were focused on the moment, neither noticing the minivan or sedan speeding right through them. Probably never knew what happened. Everything just went black.
It made me think, am I like this, too? Do I hyper-focus only on my goals, oblivious to what transpires around me. It’s going to be Christmas in a couple of days. I’ll buy a tree and decorate it. Moses started this blog about a year ago looking for answers. Unlike TV, life does not wrap up neatly. It spills out until it’s done.
Wonder if I will get any Christmas presents? That would be weird.