Stillness of Snow

It is zero degrees and there is zero reason to do anything. I woke to the joy of fresh snow; a heavy blanket of cold crystal dust.

For the first time in a long while, I have no place to be; there is no place to report my time, which is my time. Forced, placid ground succumbs to the changing seasons and winter strides in unannounced. Like a Madussa, everything stops as temperatures plummet. The air is more than cold, it is a mood that lingers in a mirror dance with the sun, which is the only reprieve. Frigid temperatures remain, battling the will of the sun.

Sun filters through and brings an illusion of warmth. We have come a long way, yet so many months wait still, wrapped in the comfort of frozen time.

I do not watch much television these days and have found a reasonable balance. Doses of CNN have ceased, replaced with Aljazeera overnight. Apparently, a contract dispute has caused disruption. But it’s ok; weird, but ok. The news, the world as it is portrayed, solidly propels the human race toward certain destruction. The movie, Interstellar, reminds us of our vulnerabilities, while exploiting our capabilities to persevere. But that was an event, outside of the daily drone of a television. For me, classical music is what plums my airways.

But I am not afraid.

Instead, there is a mist that hovers over our town and the promise of an early season. The Cascades loom above, showing off their wild winter of majestic beauty. Monday is like a holiday where life slows to remember a purpose and thoughts of warm hearth stoves and soup; friends and family gather as community, laughing, and sharing.

In the morning, eyes will open as dreams of fresh tracks wane with the desire to experience gravity with the whole body.

Everything is inanimate in the calm of winter light. Not a breeze stirs, the air, while stagnant, is crisp and still. Nothing moves.

Spirit is vibrating.

Work In Progress

Indeed. As the title says, it is a work in progress. In this case, this space, this blog (aka, Scriptoria), brain dumps are scheduled to commence, any day now.

We engage with this medium off and on for many years because it is fun; writing happens on its own terms.

..from desktop to the state of Blog (scriptoria), file management is more easily handled. Efficiency does lend more time for word production and twitters of thought. At least they would have us believing in the words as being untainted by their systems. Each letter tortured through a digital chasm of certain obscurity. But, what else?

There is magic in words and audible outcomes of manifested truths – (what does that even mean? I mean, really. Ha!) Anyway, is this conspiracy on the scale of a wide-spread social experiment? At least if it were a comic book, there is beauty in fiction and poetry and all the forms of creative language; a communication of our species.

Slowing Time Again

It has been some years since I have been in this place. That is to say, unemployed, which is a word that carries heavy stigma. Words like lazy, incompetent, uneducated, unworthy, ugly, or even non-conformant rodent with an attitude come to play on the psyche of what we think we are supposed to do. Loser. Luuuser. Loo-loo-loooser! What could I have done differently? What has been learned from this experience that is different from past situations of similar outcomes? What is inherently at the root of ME that marks me as being susceptible to this economic plight; this waltz of a marginal career path that continues to fall short of an executive position where the illusion of grandeur can play out with the best of everything? (I am chuckling in my mind at the words that play out in this thought)

For me, the idea of values is what comes to be measured. Is it all about money? IF so, then I better prepare to move away (again) because I make exceptional money when I make myself geographically available. But this time, I am not interested in shoring up ideals based on a monetary value alone.

This is a test. J