October Surpries

“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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October Wonder

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

Blue

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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Which?

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

Idea!

I’ve invented the perfect horror house for older people during the Halloween season. 

You sit in a room. In front of it is a teacher. She randomly calls on people in the room to read aloud from a book each of them is given. 

Anyone who fails to get nervous or terrorized must then stand in front of the class and give a speech. 

Admission is $10. To get out, you must pay $25. 

X

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π

“Like a small man at a urinal, I’m going to have to stay on my toes.”

A paraphrased joke from Leslie Niellsen. He should be my spirit animal for the day and for the week.

I’ve been practicing the face that made him famous.

X
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Perspective

It’s all perspective. The custom painting in my kitchen alcove expresses it well: “Black Hole Sun-The same sun, yet filtered by negligent eyes, renders darkly all that shines.”

I can worry about the moronic changes in my professional life or look at the parking lot below and consider all the recent ill-advised shenanigans from those who traverse it. I can also turn and look through my large screenless windows into the living room and watch my cat shoot across the uneven levels of the massive cat castle like a feline projectile. Güino doesn’t concern himself with the outside world. His perspective is limited. Given the massive amount of information and bustle I experience on a given day, I think he’s winning in a way that I can’t.

I had infinite energy this morning. So I burned it off like useless gas derivatives  being lit at the top of oil refineries. 

A lot of our lives are like the burned gasses. We spend so much time and energy wanting to control or direct the world around us. We’d be better off focusing on the immediacy of things and people around us. 

Love, X

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Joke!

Best  burn of the day: 

“Trump is right about one thing. He spent more time in the courtroom than Kamala Harris. As a defendant.”

X

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PS It’s fun to write jokes. There is an element of truth in every joke that strikes a chord of recognition. Even if it stings. We are supposed to recognize that that stinging urge to defend should tell us something. If an opinion or joke is meaningless and invalid, we’re supposed to roll our eyes and come up with something better.