Morning Trip (294)

“After ten thousand years of human civilization, the second Axial Age is bringing us up hard against questions that have finally become too big to look away from: Can we recognize that we are the snake in the garden? Can we own up to our abuses and begin to make restitution? Is that even possible? Can we change? This may be our last chance to face these questions and try to answer them. Climate change, mass extinction, deforestation, soil depletion, acidified oceans, melting ice: all the warning signs have long been flashing red. It is too late now to plan for the future or to issue warnings about it. The future is here. We are living in it.”
–Paul Kingsnorth, The Axis and the Sycamore

Morning Trip (203)

“Don’t go into the inextricable jungle looking for the elephant who is already quietly at home.

Nothing to do

nothing to force,

nothing to want,

–and everything happens by itself.”

–Venerable Lama Gendun Rinpoche

First Train Home

I woke at 5:25 a.m. today. I tried to lie there and to drift off. I heard sounds of fluid spurting out.

The cat had wanted attention, more than anything else, so we have been attempting to extinguish such displays.
Uhm, perhaps this morning, she really did need to be let out. I have yet to find the cat pee, or the source of the noise.

It did get me dashing out of bed, thank you cat, for that, I think.
I let her outside. I was treated to cardinal serenades back upstairs in my room by the opened window as I ran through my morning routine, an hour or two early. I am productive so far! I wonder if this level of alert and function will last!? I think that might be nice. I will appreciate it, even if I end up not being able to sustain it today.

I updated Goodreads. I have been bringing bag after bag full of books home from the library. Some look and feel good. Some I quickly realize that I should have listened to my nose wrinkling brain, and let them there. Normally, to stretch my tastes, I MUST complete reading a book even if I dislike it. I cannot recall why I do this. I thought some of it was due to the Goodreads challenges. I can’t let me count a thing as having been read, if I haven’t read it cover to cover. I also do not like wasting of time. I think that I might have a very funny-odd way of deciding waste. I made a neat satisfying done pile to return to the library today.

I am thinking that I might go back to my new community garden plot–YES! I got one this year! I am only able to weed a few minutes at a time. I am really glad that the ground appears to have been well worked and it is pretty easy to get the weeds out. I am not sure if I will grow food or a witchy garden. Perhaps some combination of both. The plants and flowers that I have a wish for, work well as pollinators and for bringing the creatures that make things mesh and eat the ‘pests’. Speaking of eating. The cat has created a mural of evisceration on the walk in front of the door.

Chores now, running through the head. When did the kitchen here become Hell? My insides are horridly unhappy over this. The heart DID love cooking. Everything involved with it now, allergies, disorders of my household, and simply screaming, and not physically being able to clean it make it a mountain.

Inside, I think…make sun tea and lemonade in the new half gallon jars. Make mayonnaise, it is the base of many simple things. Outside, I suddenly decide that the feeling in the house and perhaps the literal clutter, requires a clearning. I begin by lighting the candle and smudging my room. I have tea. A smile of satisfaction and on, to music, Imogen Heap, and her train for home. I think of that train of addiction and how it just keeps on going without you. I think in a broader usage –important concept of generalization here, it reminds me that when I think that I get off of the train and check out of life, I’m going to roil along like being stuck in an undertow or roaring forward on that train.

“Do what you feel, just how you like…”–Imogen Heap

Morning Trip (103)

The Poet with His Face in His Hands
You want to cry aloud for your
mistakes. But to tell the truth the world
doesn’t need anymore of that sound.

So if you’re going to do it and can’t
stop yourself, if your pretty mouth can’t
hold it in, at least go by yourself across

the forty fields and the forty dark inclines
of rocks and water to the place where
the falls are flinging out their white sheets

like crazy, and there is a cave behind all that
jubilation and water fun and you can
stand there, under it, and roar all you

want and nothing will be disturbed; you can
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched

by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.”
–Mary Oliver

Stopping for a Red Flag Waving

Some would wish to call the events of my week, the week from Hell. At some parts of it, those were the shortest easiest words to allow to spring forth from my lips to explain what others must have seen on my physical body expression without me complaining nor saying a word to them. Sometimes I like to allow one person that I allow close to me to share what I perceive in a moment to be a burden that seems sooooo vast to me that I begin to laugh at it–which to outsiders appears hysterical or unbalanced. It’s a nice relief seeing that response from others, and provides additional fodder to feed the laughing humor bits of me, and to allow a moment of down time for the rest to gain better perspective and a restart.

This week, two daughters back to college at separate colleges, mold and fire hazard issues in(of course) the dorm that is 4.5 hours away. Then she messaged me yesterday to say, “MY ROOMMATE HAS LIIIIIIIIIIIIICE!!!”

Daughter two, her experience so far was excellent–until…..
(wait for it, wait fooooooooor it)
she walked into her room and roommate went against contract and sprayed room full of febreeze setting off instant bad asthma attack and daughter had only two puffs of her inhaler. She rarely needs it so….

Accommodations meetings with son’s school, enrolled him into online public school, tried to withdraw him from original school and THEN after three years of this…offered excellent stress free accommodations. Dilemma he seems MUCH more engaged and happy doing the lessons online, in fact ‘ending’ learning time, to get quiet for me is an issue. But!! He wants to be able to have this at the old school–the one with the ‘fixed’ accommodations plan.

The body is fed up and has sore throat, the I’ve been beaten by a stick all over, and wheezy thing going on. I’m eating properly, adjusting breathing and health maintenance meds, and going to attempt to lie down and to rest. In order to do so, I’m calling it luxuriating. It may involve a small magazine splurge, including a trash one with surveys!!

I’m laughing now, as I assume that if any of you came to read, you might wish you had not, or you stopped long ago. However for me, this is/was life on life’s terms, I am calling a Stopping for a Red Flag Waving, so that I can keep doing the next right thing. 🙂

I found this neato slide thing on a slow down quotes search. It validates and justifies my luxuriation plot of the day.