I visited the cold, clear creek. It was the same as it always is. Indifferent. At the low point, the time change has dramatically shifted the shadows. But in the precarious high spot with a better vantage, there was light. I wish we all had more moments at the apex. Each of us is the creek, passing through.
X
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I of course was awake when the clocks flipped back an hour. When I went outside I was greeted with strong wind gusts and the clattering echo of someone’s wind chimes lodging their complaint about the unusually warm weather. The clouds above me raced across the sky.
It was hard for me to go inside. I wanted to watch and listen to the symphony of rustles, chimes, and clouds. Every few minutes, the wind whistled between the wooden fence slats. Unlike most mornings, there wasn’t much traffic, nor were the usual cast of characters mumbling or coming in and out of nearby apartments.
I went to the inconvenience store for a soda. My trip was mostly a pretext to see if anything unusual would pop up.
Y’all might have witnessed people going to the store in pajamas. I can go one better. I had to laugh as I watched a woman approach the store wearing her bedspread. That’s either a demonstration of liberation or I-don’t-give-an-eff.
X
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Joy. The same day I discovered the abandoned trunk in the trees and brush, I had a joyous moment. Near where I work is a nexus of creek, trails, and wildlife. For whatever reason, this year brought a few squirrels not intimidated by people. If I’m still, a couple of these will approach me, sit near me, or cling to the bark of a tree near eye level. If I lean against one of the box transformers nearby, it might put its paws on the small of my back. Every so often, they let me pet them. Earlier in the week, one of these trusting squirrels approached me excitedly and sat at my feet, twitching and raising its head. I reached down, gave him neck scrunches, and ran my fingers along its back like a cat. The squirrel chattered in response. (It’s one of the squirrels that recently engaged in a squirrel war with a fellow tree dweller and fell on me.) I don’t know what it was telling me as I made contact. When I was done petting it, it picked up an acorn and busily chewed on it at my feet. I suppose it wanted company – and I was glad to have it. It flew me away from the job, the day, and the relentless stupidity we call busyness.
X
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I don’t know what called me to walk along the back spur of the trail. I haven’t been near there in weeks due to the drought and the low creek.
To the right of the path, I saw what initially looked to be a barrel. As I neared it, I realized it was an antique trunk. The lid was carelessly thrown open and a couple of drawers sat haphazardly on top of the trunk’s opening.
Slightly uphill and to the right were the remnants of someone’s memories. Photos, cards, tickets for rock music venues from the 1970s, and personal keepsakes.
Someone had to have taken great effort to get the trunk out there amidst the trees.
I have a lot of questions about how the trunk got there, and of the stranger whose belongings are still carelessly staged and thrown out for display to those adventurous enough to walk through.
Of course I can’t resist the call to do my thing and find out about the woman whose storage trunk of memories are discarded out here.
I’m glad I listened to the call that prompted me to go out among the trees.
But I am also a little disheartened to have found someone’s trunk of memories out here.
X
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The people most likely to demand that you stop cursing are inevitably the same people who cause you to want to.
X
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“Sorry about all the dust,” he said.
The park crew was clearing brush and trees from the creekside end of Bluff Cemetery. We’ve been weeks without substantive rain.
Because the amount of dust reminded me of an empty field before and after the crops of my youth, I told him, “A little grit in the heat never hurt anyone.”
Because of the elevation of the cemetery and the exposed expanses of ground at the cemetery, the effect of the high wind carrying and eddying the dust and leaves was quite beautiful despite it covering me as I walked through it.
It was shortly after noon during my visit. The sky looked like a summer sky even though the browning trees frowned at me for such a thought.
I can’t visit a cemetery without viscerally feeling the irony of loving cemeteries for their history and emotional anchors, yet having always disliked the ritual of burial.
I have several family members at Bluff. Several contemporaries and people I’ve known also dot the landscape.
After meandering, I took a photo of a random grave. Someday soon, I’ll use the information to find out more about the person using my research skills. It may seem foolish to some for me to do this. But every time I do it, I learn something. I like to think that a random stranger’s attention might float up into the after and ether and hit a hidden chord of memory in the universe.
Before exiting the property, I pulled my car over and parked. I chose a tree along the periphery and did my best to climb it. My pocket was loaded with a length of wire and a beautiful prism. I left it hanging up there. In the days to come it will become more exposed as the tree gives way to November.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
The prism is a reminder that sunlight is not only the source of all life here on Earth, but also provides the only way we can experience beauty with our eyes.
No matter what your views are of the afterlife, many forget that we are supposed to squeeze life while we’re here. Some of us produce lemon juice and others nectar.
We all breathe the same air and for different lengths of time.
PS I hope some of you got to enjoy the leaf tornadoes that seemed to be everywhere today.
Love, X
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The exuberant blush of the chilly October morning passed. My arms were heavy from relentless push-ups, ones executed to silence my imagination and mind. The fleeting and mercurial chance to venture out and sit among the mountains of scattered fallen leaves passed as the shadows of the morning disappeared. The chance to hold a hot cup of coffee and share the absurdity of humor as the crows called. I grew tired of my mind, wanting only presence. So I sat and watched the gentle breeze move the remaining green limbs of the trees. The accompanying sun attempted to pierce the gauzy Autumn clouds. It was a reverie that inevitably concluded when I put on my practical shoes. The magic of the morning that I love evaporated into the ether. But still my mind wandered in the cavern contained and concealed inside of me. It’s one of the consequences of living in boxes. Swooping high above, there are a million boxes and each one contains a universe of self-contained minds. Sonder strikes differently on fall mornings. It is the interconnectedness of us that makes it worthwhile. If it feels lacking, not much effectively works as a distraction.
And I’m floating.
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PS I wrote the above words yesterday morning. I listened to Spencer Sutherland wail “Alive.” And though I shared these words, I’m frustrated that I’m experiencing the same disconnectedness this morning. The easy fix evidently stretches too far for some. It’s obvious I don’t lack the words or the ability to communicate. So, I blasted “Alive” again and reminded myself to be grateful for what I do have instead of that which lacks. I remind myself that it’s human nature to fail to appreciate the 80% to chase the 20%. The problem is that the magic tends claim residence in the 20%.
Love, X
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I made this point a couple of weeks ago. The number of conservatives complaining about high-profile celebrity endorsements of Harris has, of course, skyrocketed. If only their candidate had followed the advice they so eagerly give. I seem to remember him being a huge TV star. Not to mention that beloved Hollywood Walk of Fame star that he’s so proud of. If celebrities can’t endorse a candidate, then it certainly follows that celebrities can’t BECOME candidates. This is dissonance on the most unimaginable scale. I would call it satire, except the people spouting this crazyness do so in all seriousness.
I’ve scratched my head so much over this that I only have two hairs remaining on my cranium.
I need a list of all occupations that are prohibited from expressing their political views. See how ridiculous that sounds? A person’s choice of career in no way negates their opinion or the ability to express it. It’s our fault that celebrities have so much voice to begin with.
So when we accuse them of undue influence, we are undermining the ideals that are the underpinning of our democracy. Freedom of expression counts as highest among them.
X
I voted today, without waiting at any point.
I voted against him for the 6th time in my adult life. It’s amusing that his presence in the political arena pushed such a blatant liberal as me into the conservative primaries.
He’s not even the problem.
The problem is now that many of us realize that no matter how many gains we make, such a person ill-suited for political office can subvert the political process.
It’s not my job to convince anyone that he’s dangerous. If his closest allies and advisors, combined with his encyclopedic list of flaws can’t present the clear and present danger he is to our democracy, there’s certainly nothing I can add.
When I left the voting center, I’m certain I experienced one of the most beautiful views possible.
Above me, the blue sky.
Behind me? Hopefully the last populist narcissist.
But I know he can’t be. Because the people who will overlook the kind of character and behavior he represents will still be voting.
X
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The pendulum swings.
And the prism dances from light to dark.
Often, I’m not quite sure which cycle has overtaken me.
Blessings are disguised as curse just as often as gifts or acquisition result in loss of time and energy.
Things visit us. Memories of people linger as long as we’re here to remember.
Is it melancholy or recognition?
Love, X
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P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 