Friday, October 27, 2006
The Guilt Engine
Just in a moment of recognition....
Blogger is the only password on my computer not set to automatic log-on.
I'm watching my fishy swim, listening to the Beatles, and spending a long-needed night alone in the room, comtemplating what it felt like to lay on the floor, sink into the ground, and be blank.
Time magazine helped me today. Cover to cover I read, appreciated, and avoided work. Something to think about-can Mexicans climb fences? I think so....
I bought meatless lunchmeat today
I want to spend my life appreciating every mystery around me, examining the young, disecting the old, tracing my fingers over the withered lines of broken ground, giving awe to clouds in the sky, recognizing the divine and letting go of the dirt. That will, without doubt, enrich my life, but will if fulfill my life? For that I need something else, something that won't burn like the fires that rage in California...religion? God? Faith? All of it? One of them? hum
Tea bags are good for more than one use unless you purchase them in a supermarket. Then you get your .14 cents worth in one cup and no more than that. I've tried.
Water is the softest yet the most currosive thing in nature. I want to try and be like that; gentle and powerful.
I have a memory of dancing in a dark field, four guitars strumming, voices laughing, long grass brushing against my legs and then falling back into it's arms and seeing stars, no, seeing constellations, for the first time in months. I remember that peace, that rush, that fall
And driving home, stopping in the middle of the dry desert, and finding 4 famished kittens abandoned and wanting nothing more than to make it better. One of us held the opener, the other the can, another the milk and the last the camera as we watched babies eat their first meal in months. No stopping to breath, no ears twitching for danger, only pure endulgence. They are probably dead; dead with bellies full of overly rich cat food, but maybe, somewhere within their simple cat minds, understanding that not all the world would discharge them behind Taco Bell. Some of us want them to be okay and any feeble act, helpful or hurtful, was done out of pure interspecies love. Nothing more, nothing less, but love, compassion, and the need to ourselves be helped by something too rich for our senses. ¶ 10:49 PM
Blogger is the only password on my computer not set to automatic log-on.
I'm watching my fishy swim, listening to the Beatles, and spending a long-needed night alone in the room, comtemplating what it felt like to lay on the floor, sink into the ground, and be blank.
Time magazine helped me today. Cover to cover I read, appreciated, and avoided work. Something to think about-can Mexicans climb fences? I think so....
I bought meatless lunchmeat today
I want to spend my life appreciating every mystery around me, examining the young, disecting the old, tracing my fingers over the withered lines of broken ground, giving awe to clouds in the sky, recognizing the divine and letting go of the dirt. That will, without doubt, enrich my life, but will if fulfill my life? For that I need something else, something that won't burn like the fires that rage in California...religion? God? Faith? All of it? One of them? hum
Tea bags are good for more than one use unless you purchase them in a supermarket. Then you get your .14 cents worth in one cup and no more than that. I've tried.
Water is the softest yet the most currosive thing in nature. I want to try and be like that; gentle and powerful.
I have a memory of dancing in a dark field, four guitars strumming, voices laughing, long grass brushing against my legs and then falling back into it's arms and seeing stars, no, seeing constellations, for the first time in months. I remember that peace, that rush, that fall
And driving home, stopping in the middle of the dry desert, and finding 4 famished kittens abandoned and wanting nothing more than to make it better. One of us held the opener, the other the can, another the milk and the last the camera as we watched babies eat their first meal in months. No stopping to breath, no ears twitching for danger, only pure endulgence. They are probably dead; dead with bellies full of overly rich cat food, but maybe, somewhere within their simple cat minds, understanding that not all the world would discharge them behind Taco Bell. Some of us want them to be okay and any feeble act, helpful or hurtful, was done out of pure interspecies love. Nothing more, nothing less, but love, compassion, and the need to ourselves be helped by something too rich for our senses. ¶ 10:49 PM
