Big River

I started this blog with a storm and I'm in the middle of one now. It's been going for days.

A few days ago I was down at the creek to "clean up" after the last storm. The picturesque creek in front of my house had changed into raging rapids and tragically, someone in town even died in it during the storm. The landscape on my land was changed from a woodsy feel, with trees and rich, overgrown islands, to a barren scene, with trees washed away, the islands completely absent, and the feeling of being enclosed by lush foliage gone. I had huge rocks placed to cammouflage ripped up trees and ugly spots devoid of harmonious stone and greenery. I cleaned up all the trash collected by sprouting trees and bushes, and swept sand clean to return it to a relatively smooth beachy feel.

The next day the sky released torrents. It's still pouring. My office is still mouldy, a layer of water covers the floor, and my books need to be removed. The hardwood floors thoughout are turning dark brown from water damage. The list goes on.

I don't want to elaborate. I do fear there will be major damage in this area. The road still isn't repaired from the boulder.

Blessings

So much to do

Have you ever wanted to clone yourself? Only in a really advanced way - not with different personalities. One of me could be on the computer 24/7 and one of me could be meditating, one of me could be hiking the wilds, one of me could be working on the book I want to write. One of me could be rescuing animals and spending quality time with needy kids. Yeah, I could hand all my cloned selves a list in the morning and sit back with a hot cup of tea. If I could only figure out how to get my consciousness to be in the mind of my other selves. Hmm, like some kind of linked telepathy.

Tourists - Is it the right word?

Tourists?
We call them "tourists", the curious, kind of greedy people who go tromping through other cultures, usually not without bad effects. Maybe we should look at the world of tourists and decide if "tourists" is the right word to use. When I think of tourists, of course I imagine the often loud-mouthed ugly Americans in Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirts, with a camera dangling around their neck who devalue others' culture. I think of the British who swarmed India and other so-called "exotic" places to the detriment of the native population and environment. I think of the young Germans and other Europeans who have trashed the foothills of the Himalayas. I could go on but it would take too long. I suggest, though, that we find another, more realistic, less euphemistic term.

Intentions to ponder for change in the world

Institute of Noetic Sciences



I picture the world as it is today, knowing that I am a part of this planet's evolutionary design. I choose to live to my fullest capacity in a spirit of openness, intellectual integrity, and freedom.

I am conscious that I have a role in the unfolding story of humanity. I am connected to the whole. My intentions find a deep resonance in the hearts and minds of others.

Together, we stir the depths of human ingenuity, creativity, and collective healing. Together, we are part of an evolutionary pulse bringing into focus our collective responsibility for planet Earth and its diverse peoples.

My intention is to be in a place of wisdom, compassion, and an abiding exuberance for serving our common work and the greater good.

58 degrees in here!

Early this morning I had the doors and windows wide open. As long as I was moving, I wasn't cold. But when I sat to the computer...brr! I got up to look at the thermostat. It read 58°F. A few years ago I would have shriveled up and died at that temperature. I must be acclimated to the Topanga weather. I can't sleep unless the window is open and it's on the slightly cool side. Even after I am under the blankets for a few hours I wake up and feel like I'm in a slow cooker...so I open the window more.

There are complaints about this from another party who is not acclimated.

it's raining, it's pouring

Morbid Ruminations
it's raining, it's pouring
the old man is upstairs snoring
while i have hot tea
and contemplate death

my constant contemplation. death consumes me, a grey spectre that enfolds me in its lifeless sleeves and breathes a raspy, life-absorbing sigh that draws my life from me.

since i moved to this house it has been so. i felt a malevolent presence here before moving in, a hostile spirit of someone passed. if you were blind but felt with your hands a form in front of you, could you deny its existence because you couldn't behold it with your eyes? so it has been for me.

and death has caught hold of my garment and dragged a trail of grisly loss behind it. death advances, a rush of the dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Edgar Allan Poe

what horrible edward gorey death will you die?

take the quiz and find out

You will perish of fits. Repeat this to yourself:
"Things can work out even if I don't get
my way. Things can work out even...."

yes, that death seems to fit well. life has by now taught me that mantra..."things will be as they will, even if things don't seem to go my way."

What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
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