Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Tipping the Scales

I'm hedging a bet that my life experience will culminate in a revelation.  The diversity of my choices,
and circumstances might have led me in a number of different directions, but here I am.

I am prepared for nothing and I am excited.  This is a vastly challenging existence- this unpreparedness. It is trusting the unknown and undefinable. It is trusting beyond the horizon and it's
moments away.  I feel it.I

Next month, I will view the near universe through a telescope. The cosmos will come into focus.  I will come into focus and the connection will be life changing.  I feel it.

Too many years, I have lived disconnected from my life, although I didn't know it until recently.  Now that my understanding of purpose has been fine tuned, I wonder why the great reveal has been delayed. I wonder what has been missing.

The human condition is dependent, but is it a co dependency? This is an open ended question given the continuing discoveries and connectivity to all things past and future.  We may never solve
the reason for our existence, but I know we will resolve to explore all possibilities.  The intelligence
of the universe is patiently waiting and monitoring.

Time is a factor. Destiny is a factor. The two  are converging and I can not continue on the familiar path. Shadows have obscured who I was.  The people who forged my childhood are dead and I have discarded the sweet memories as they no longer serve me. I am not tied to who I used to be. Validation for the purpose of a headstone is a wasted effort.  In the grand plan, there is nothing which distinguishes an individual from the masses.  We are still evolving.

I am the intersection on my own life's map. Which direction I will navigate is not up to me. But
I'm betting that the pivotal moment of my future is weighted heavily on my eagerness to connect
to possibilities beyond my understanding.  I believe that the totality of moments which define
my soul, on this remarkable journey are about to experience inconceivable joy.  I just feel it.

Monday, May 14, 2018


Her touch was upon me again, from beyond the grave.  My grandmother's touch, gently caressing the top of my hand as if her intention was to preserve that moment in time between us.

The memory came upon me, today, as a whispered guide to that same hand upon my old dog.  Vision is mostly lost upon her fifteen years. She navigates by shadows and sound. My touch is her connection to the past and it calms her unsteady footsteps.

Some people are made for radio.  Not Grandma.  Her hands wove the spoken fabric. I can see her
actively talking.  I can see her in quiet contemplation; hands folded on the apron which she wore to protect the dress underneath. Grandma's best stories were the ones when she embraced me. I could feel the words as she spoke. Her belly would swell just before the funny part; her shoulders would raise in anticipation of a mystery and her hands accentuated every sentence.  Palms would upturn if there were secrets, fingers would clasp when all was well and the story had a happy ending. I learned my story telling from her.

It was challenging for her to multi task. Driving was always fraught with a potential fender bender because her hands kept talking.  Baking was constantly interrupted as she stopped to re read the hand written recipes and then exclaim "oh, goodness" with hands raised when she realized a mistake in the measurements.

Today, she speaks to me. Her words upon the breeze and I am once again in her embrace. The old
dog -calm in my lap and dreaming of stories of her own.

Friday, April 27, 2018

Second Chances

My tempo is in conflict with the rest of my life. Here I am, at present, going about my days
unencumbered by past life obligations, no schedule and infrequent short term goals to monitor
my existence.

Is this floating between purpose and reality where I need to be? Is there justification for seemingly
wasted opportunities?

I can only observe from one side.  The flip side is hidden. Seems unfair that I be cut loose from all that is familiar and just left dangling.

But, dangling I am. Last time I gazed beneath me, there was an untamed river, chiseling its path toward the sea.  Now there is too much calm, no turbulence and I am afraid the water will become stagnant and with no purpose-evaporate. I do not want to evaporate. Although eventually, I will be absorbed into the cosmos.  The particles of star dust will reunite and my soul will travel through worm holes toward oblivion.  Or, maybe not.

I am a spiritual being having a human experience. This knowledge has arrived late in the game.
Had I known my truth as a younger being, I would have made different choices and the rhythm
of my life could have been- no should have been- much less predictable.

Yet, here I am; predictably mimicking generations before.  I have become who THEY needed me to be but I have a second chance and I am going to take it.  Knowledge is power, unremarkable as that may seem, but it is also dangerous when balanced against a waning internal clock. It becomes
a risk.

Justification may be defined in terms of a life invested in well...living. The ballast in one's foundation
is necessary for a steady ascension. One must have experience in order to weigh options. Otherwise
a life becomes meaningless.

Being in favor of mapping my remaining experiences longitudinally on the map rather than horizontally is my new goal. Up is the new me. Willingness and fortitude, patience and an unquestioning devotion to universal wisdom will break the rigidness.  I will fall softly on new

In the meantime, dangling gives me hope.

Monday, March 26, 2018

Knowing Where to Begin

"Not all who wander are lost".   Hmmm.  That fits. Those words pop up along walkways and church signs and on cardboard placards the homeless wave at the cars rushing by.

I am not one who falls in one category or another.  I am an amalgam; a puzzle which until just now,
had no solution.

All my life, I have pushed the boundaries....believing that there was always a Paul Harvey option: "The rest of the story".  I have been a disgruntled being.; searching for the polarity of existence.

I am awakening on my life's parallel plane where I have been comatose.  It's an interesting
process to be sure. I have existed on this plane at this predestined venture and now my purpose
is transformational and expansive. I am no longer in denial.

This acknowledgement or validation has come to me though indirect messages.  My
journey through transformational ascension will take concerted effort and a cleansing purge
of my soul.  But where to begin?

Trust- that's my biggest challenge.  Trust of self; confidence of that intuition which has guided me safely to this point. This time, however, there's a rip in the safety net.  That being the familiarity
of who I was.

I like conclusions. They're final-once the research has ended it's either yes or no, go or stay. Beginning again is always an option and perfect for one who can't seem to hold interest very long.
Being optimistic, I prefer short term goals.  The outlay of energy is greater and designed as a catalyst
for quick resolution.  I know "quick" is a relative term.  I haven't been comfortable with open ended
scenarios.  My pattern has been: problem plus plan equals solution.

My problem is: "x" equals plan.

And here we are back to the trust issue. I do not have faith.  I have truth. They're not mutually
compatible. I do not have trust. I have intuition and I don't have any point of reference as to whether
or not the imbalance will defeat or incite my participation.

How do I justify the gentle bombardment of new people suddenly in my life's path? Where is the tether which keeps tugging at me and keeping my head above water?

Where does sudden desire to abandon my life come from?  Perhaps it comes in a dream or a whisper; perhaps in a split second glimpse of the stars above.   The reality is that it sits in my gut-waiting.
I wake up with it and take it with me as I wander; trying to maintain control.

Making uninformed decisions leaves me scattered; remnants of me clutter my brain.  Getting clear, defogging my vision is my intended starting point.

Today, I placed a telephone call to a Buddhist monk.  I am hopeful his meditation practices will relieve me of my muddle headedness.  Maybe with practice, that feeling in my gut will relocate to
my heart and I will become open to possibilities.

Trusting that he will return my call,  I can begin to relax a little. Trusting that I will know what to do with the information is an entirely different matter; but I must begin somewhere.

Monday, February 26, 2018

The Ancient Within

Born an old soul?  I am beginning to see the wisdom of this cliche'.  I am beginning to believe that I was never an innocent child. Hindsight, being all I have, memories of growing up are sparse and the circle of friends just as sparse.  I didn't fit in then, I don't fit in now.

 I am coming to terms with the unpopular mindset of my peers.  At our age, we long for youth; search for it and if it comes in a jar with a money back guarantee, well gotta have it.

If I started this journey with knowledge far beyond my earthly years, I wonder when I will
use it.  Just started a quest to know more about the year 2020.  Two years future could be my undoing or unraveling or discovery of the why of me.

Dad called my perspective "common sense", Mom didn't comment, but my grandmother could
speak with me on an adult level from very early on.

Today is much the same.  The not belonging is rather powerful.  The sense that I am alone among
the masses is not scary.  Solitude dwells in chaos and sometimes thrives there.

Understanding that I must elevate to a higher universal vibration, I wait.  I wait and I live out
the days based on this life experience.  I do what I have always done until...and I will know
because the agony in my gut will leave.  The world will not define me and I will exist beyond
boundaries.  Boundaries of prejudice, and physical form.

Already enlightened, tomorrow is full of possibilities.

Monday, February 19, 2018

Awakening the Muse

My fate is sealed. It could be worse.  Free will could delay the inevitable and there I'd be
enjoying my retirement on the reel end of a fishing pole.

I spend countless sleep deprived days waiting for inspiration.  I had it once, published two books in a year.  Now the gray matter is putty.

Where does one go to spark the mental kindling wood? A change of scenery-something beyond the rearrangement of my living room furniture-is what I want. To be physically immersed in the unfamiliar might be my short term goal. A new vocabulary to describe the new environment would
benefit both myself and my readers.

I am not studious by nature or choice, I dabble and try on.  There is no desire to become proficient; there is a drive-indefinable that keeps me questing.  How remarkable to be so old and not know
what or who I want to be when I grow up.  Latent desires are sparked by boredom. I guess
that would not be a surprising revelation by any one who is more comfortable with solitude.

There are unlimited moments of inspiration in both my waking and sleeping selves. We all have
unspoken glimpses of the universe.  Some of us pay attention.  I need to pay better attention.

My desires float on a single word sometimes. Other times, creativity reveals itself through an unexpected shared moment in nature.  Something catches my attention and I have to rely on my memory to reproduce the encounter.  It's remarkable that given the immense clutter in my gray matter, I am able to recall the insignificant interruption.  But, I do eventually.

The muse is stirring and restless.  Her path travels through the recesses of my darkness
and peaks of my luminosity.  My being transforms through her.  You will discover my truth
if you listen.

I want to leave nothing behind but words on a page.  Considering that to be a fairly green
carbon footprint, my legacy will keep me company through my existential journey.  The words
which I borrow and repurpose, as my own, are gifted to the future. Take great care of them
for I was worthy.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018


Well, the universe is at me again.  At least I hope so, the alternative would be early dementia which is also a possibility, but I'm optimistic.

My lifestyle has slowed and the minutes can now be extended into moments; sometimes
unexpected, other times anticipated or planned.  These tiny immeasurable units of time define
me and validate the journey.  Knowing that I have traveled with purpose, I welcome the moments
which remind me of who I am.

The pause today, came without fanfare on the warm afternoon breeze.  Windows were open and the fresh air was a welcome respite from the recent deluge of heavy rain.  I smelled hopefulness.
Several months had slipped away and I missed the piano.  I missed the part of myself that used
to play every day.  I wondered what had taken me away from joy.

But joy is subjective and I'm to blame for its banishment. I allowed the complexities of day to day living to interfere and I'm tired.  I welcome interruption of self; I believe in a life fragmented. Living
in pieces, chunks and snippets is freeing.  I'm not advocating for remnants, shreds or merely the lingering remains of a purpose driven life, I'm grateful for the opportunities which come by way of a full stop, deep breathing and choosing to continue on or selecting another path.

Given that mankind follows a patterned existence and is guided by an internal clock tempered
by instinct, perpetuity is optional.  If we choose to limit our routines based on these factors,
we soon run out of that which distinguishes us from the lesser apes. Accepting the belief that
the universe is indefinable and our place in it is transient, makes the opportunity to be awe inspired
so precious and life affirming.

When was the last time you paused in your rush to get to the next whatever?  Do you now regret
that those missed seconds resulted in your not changing? Second guessing yourself and living
with remorse, for not being in the moment, is the fodder for many a great poem.  The what if's
have a tendency to weigh us down.

Challenges can be simply overwhelming. Living and experiencing life are not synonymous.
Perhaps it takes the cumulative missed moments in our lives to make us appreciate the unexpected
interruptions.  Perhaps it takes the unexpected interruptions to make us grateful that there are
more than twenty four hours in our day.