The Times

Five homes converge around a family of ponderosa. Each are growing with roots deeply embedded, stubborn against any storm. They seem to have gathered in this place causing a special sanctuary where the backyards meet without borders.

Lemon light in the desert is delicious this time of year. Seasons are shifting and passing on the winds of another day. Each as a stroke of a child’s imagination where a wisp of surreal perceptions and audio enhancers, still developing, can shape their lives. The painting they paint will be their mark of an age of discovery.

Mine are nearly grown. They have endured things I thought only I could see as I tried to shield them. I may have waited too many years. But my love has always been. So too, we continue to unveil the mysteries and embrace a new way of thinking, unstuck from social illnesses.

Peace is in the mind. Each of us must come to understand the power of calm and the bad influences of stress on our bodies and our minds; our spirits.

Politicking reflects the inner demons of our society. War has become the default economic recovery machine whereas too many rationalized positives outdo the negatives. Population control of ill-fated ethnic groups, demand stimulates supply-side job opportunities, posturing for military might and religious righteousness, advancing strategic alliances in an oil rich part of the world, putting more pressure on enemies, reaping spoils through large corporate contracts that feed the cycle of war profit… too many to list.. too little time.

Change  cannot be stopped or undone; it is perpetual and has a definite rhythm when engaged through awareness. I know this is pointing out the obvious, but to widen the lens is to consider that throughout human experience is change. That would be the view from 30,000 feet like billions of ants scouring the planet. Humans are a catalyst, perhaps.

I do not know what is going to happen. Life is changing fast. There are major adjustments of healing and forgiveness and remembering kindness and civility. It is not easy and the days fly by without notice to so much. I want to take up painting and write a book or two – not that it would matter much, but it is on the list and leaving room for passion is important in a world that seems so spun out. The kids are amazing artists in different ways and inspire my own tendencies.

Balance on a floating beam stretching through the air for hundreds of feet. I saw such a contraption of cord that sliced a line through the air with flickering glints of sparkle designed to prevent someone from getting hooked like a clothesline. Reminds me somehow of our media and the debacle that is our congress.

My days will remain on the quiet side for awhile. I need to regain confidence and exercise my countenance. I feel like I am skirting around something, aloof even if perhaps self conscious. I could get drunk on whisky and steep into a place of self loathing and apathy – too depressed and overwhelmed to get out of bed. I could self-implode into a tiny atom and pretend I am bonded with a billion truths returning to the source. But what would I have to bring at this juncture? Perhaps I would just be a pure atom and everything else would fall away without a trace?

I think there are better words waiting.  Maybe whisky is not such a bad idea. But I am not the self-loathing type nor am I chronically depressed or apathetic. These are not words that I relate to directly. Certainly they slip in from time to time due to an event – like when my father passed. No, in the end, I would drink a whisky because I can.