Saturday, March 31, 2012
I set the stage: A small house with an attached shop sits beneath the branches of old growth trees, and birdsong is always heard. A small yard with garden flowers and vegetables. The shop is for thread and fabric and stitching and a gathering place for women. The house is not small and not big but has two bedrooms; one for me and one for whomever seeks sanctuary. A fire to chase away cold, and many windows so breezes can chase away hot. A small village to walk to, where everyone says hello.
A small dog to love and who loves me back.
Not much to need. A place to belong. A place to rest. Birdsong and flowers. Light through leaves. A breeze not cool not hot. A kiss on skin, a sparkling light, no fear at night.
I don't know how to build this set.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Interestingly this mindset morphed as I became aware of the brain spasm that occurs just before I switch gears and learn how to change the oil in my car(this is only an example, I would never change the oil in my car).
And now comes the stealth response. I kid you not; I haven't changed one bit except now after the spasm occurs, I rationalize it by forgiving myself for dropping what I'm doing to go do something else. And that masks the truth (stealth quality)....the truth being I haven't learned anything in 65 years, I'm still hopping from one foot to the other, but now I'm nicer to myself when I realize that I've done it again.
No rest for the eternally distracted.