I nearly forgot

There is quite a bit here in the house that has not changed or moved or nothing for years. I was just standing in the kitchen and found myself idling through received greeting cards, To Do lists in Kim's handwriting, packs of chewing gum I'll never use, stuff, more stuff. Here was a page I printed for me and for Kim, that she kept with other papers and things here in the kitchen. I'd nearly forgotten about it. Don't recall where I found this -- Wikipedia or something...

Friendship is a term used to denote co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more people. The term connotes a relationship that involves mutual knowledge, esteem, and affection along with a degree of rendering service to friends in times of need or crisis. Friends will welcome each other's company and exhibit loyalty towards each other, often to the point of altruism. Their tastes will usually be similar and may converge, and they will share enjoyable activities. They will also engage in mutually helping behavior, such as exchange of advice and the sharing of hardship. A friend is someone who may often demonstrate reciprocating and reflective behaviors. Yet for many, friendship is nothing more than the trust that someone or something will not harm them. Value that is found in friendships is often the result of a friend demonstrating on a consistent basis:

• the tendency to desire what is best for the other,
• sympathy and empathy,
• honesty, perhaps in situations where it may be difficult for others to speak the truth, especially in terms of pointing out the perceived faults of one's counterpart,
• mutual understanding and appreciation.

I'm sure I found it through Google but I don't recall where it came from. Google is deluting computing definitions and also cultural definitions and also also my memory skills. When I "Google it" I regard wisdom and advice like output from a cafeteria dispenser. It occurred to me this morning that I now often use Google in much the same way the bridge staff on the starships USS Enterprise used the ship computer. "Computer, what is the mean air speed of a fully-laden African swallow?" The thought I had this morning transformed the dialogs of the Star Trek TV shows into "Google, what is the mean air speed of a fully-laden African swallow?"

"Google, tea, Earl Grey, hot."


"Google, can we go home now?"

Curious

There are few things that annoy me like a cat's wet nose on my elbow. Distracting, on purpose.

I watched a movie at home tonight. My friend Rhys at work gave an expression of vague discomfort when I mentioned the title. I don't see why. Tears came up as I watched, but that could have been the one beer. I only allow one beer in the house at a time. I didn't identify with the characters, they were different from me and my life, but I did feel what they were saying and thinking, the messages were messages I could hear in myself and in my life.

Bug was in a funny mood. Came and sat with his back to me on the floor in front of my chair and then looked at the ceiling and kept turning to look at me over his shoulder. "Meow." He doesn't talk much so this was notable. The patio door was open and the screen was letting cool, humid air in, and the ceiling fan seemed to attract Bug's attention. He sat on the dining room table looking up at it. I could not see the usual moth or insect that might dance in the light of the fixture, I could see his attention was on the fan blade itself as he swiveled his head around in matching circles to follow its motion.

The movie was in the middle, and in my peripheral vision I saw some little white round feather like shape pass from the coffee table into the unlit fireplace, and Bug saw it too, jumping from the coffee table in front of me to look behind Kim's stain-glass that hangs as the fireplace cover. I have an extra laserprint photo of Kim that I like pinned up on the front edge of the mantle, using one of those thumb tacks left over from her decorations always strung up there at Christmas time. The paper blew back and forth as clearly as if a gust of wind was puffed right on it. I felt at ease with this gentle presence that Bug was pursuing and continued with my attention on the movie.

Out of the right corner of my eye, peripherally, I distinctly noticed that white feather shape dart from in front of me to around the end of the couch across from me. Bug was on the floor behind my chair, watching. "Meow," he said as I turned and we looked at each other. Looking across the space of the room, I asked "...Are you here?..." I felt at ease with the response and continued with my movie.

Some wonderful lines in this movie. Here are some, I wrote a few down. Can you guess what movie they are from?

Funny thing about coming home. It looks the same, feels the same, smells the same. You realize what's changed is you.

Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.

We have to trust each other.

Did I ever tell you I've been struck by lightening seven times? One time I was just walking my dog down the road. I'm blind in one eye, can't hardly hear. Get the shakes out of nowhere. But you know what? God keeps reminding me I'm lucky to be alive. ... Storm's coming.

You can be mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You can swear and curse the fates. But when you come to the end, you have to let go.

You never know what's coming for you.

Oh, no. I've done it again, it's nearly midnight. Gotta go.

Good night.

One of those things that seem right enough to make way for itself

I haven't cut my hair since last April. It has gotten pretty long and also weirdly shaped -- kinda like Geo. Washington's hairdo. I want to keep the length going but need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not freak out... much. I was leaving a little cafe in my neighborhood, enjoying both the cafe and the neighborhoodness, when I passed a hair salon with one stylist and an older dude like me. Hmmm, maybe I would be comfortable here. On an impulse a few days later, I went in. Several nice old ladies with hair in curlers and several stylists, busy. One finished and, yes, normally I don't take walk-ins but I just had a cancellation, what do you know? It worked out just right, and was a very nice experience. The hair looks good to me, kept the length, and I'll go back to see my new stylist, Lucinda, with an appointment. One of those things that seemed right enough to make way for itself.

Today Is All We Got

Tired. Spiritually tired. Like an underground river, my confusions and conflicts flow. A lifetime of ignoring or mistaking my source, of thinking I could be happy if you said so and not until you did. Whoever you've been, and there have been many, kind and unkind and every other way, who have built me up or let me down, I hung on every bit of it. Hung myself indeed.

And yet I don't have a sense of regret. After all these years it has always been just my best attempt on that day, at that time. I was there with me, and even if my closest did not support me, I still understood.

Tired. This underground river has a gravity of its own, waves pulling me in its direction. Why else would I do the same things expecting some other result? This time. No, always the same result. Old reactive habits, old responses still find their way to the surface, less and less about today, less and less about yesterday.

And yet I don't have a sense of regret. After all these years it has always been just my best attempt on that day, at that time. I was there with me, and even if my closest did not support me, I still understood.

Spiritually tired. Sometimes my life doesn't seem real, this disconnect between were I plan to go and where I am anyways going. I look about my life, at the matters and materials, and they almost seem made-up. Like a dream image of what I wished had been, in fine detail with stories attached. And something simple, like a paper cut, brings me back to this moment. A clear, sunny day with a cool breeze. I'm barely here.

And yet I don't have a sense of regret. After all these years it has always been just my best attempt on that day, at that time. I was there with me, and even if my closest did not support me, I still understood.

No need to promise anything
Why would I do that
When all I want is heaven
And heaven's where your at
heaven's where your at

Gordon Haskell

All of my loved ones and everyone who's given me the time of day, on one today: please forgive me my trespasses. Just for today, it's all we got.

Tyrannical Beast

Huitzilopochtli. Unlike any bird, they have no regard for minor life forms, such as i. Complete control, they are unconcerned with mere bulk. Unconcerned!!!

Evil, tyrannical beasts. Possessed of The Liquid, control of the source. Master of the atmosphere, squeeking its venomous trumpet needle beaks -- EHUH EHUH EHUH.

Buzz. Buzzing, buzzzzzz. They hum like titanic bumble bees, black jacketed wasps of humongous proportion. Needle beaks with wiggly demonic tongues, in and out, buzzing their stingery wingedness. In and out, in and out. In, and out.

No regard, no register of the hairless monkey, supplier of energy nectar liquid concentrate of power and guile of pure lasery sabotage. Chasing the invader, like the flying saucer in hyperdrive, protect the energy source, dominate the energy source, command the energy source. Its empire, the land to the horizon and back again. Arrrhhh! Ha Ha ha ha HAAA!!!!

Devilized, Il Duce beasties. Buzzing. Buzz Buzzz. Feeding, feeding. Slurping, sucking. Juice of power, juicy juice. Juicy juice juice. Buzz. Buzz. Humm. Humm.

Luciferous, evil, Hummingbird. I bow to my teacher. Spare my humble splatatude, O monstrous master. I beg of you. Have mercy on me, O Master of Buzzatudinus.

I know I'll never dance like I used to.

do you ever have inklings?

shannon wrote:

do you ever have inklings? feelings that someone is there? i was just so overcome, I had to reach out.

We are here. My experience of changing landscape is nowadays more of changing awareness on my part. Inklings, yes. Presence is always available, and I can lean into it or withdraw. Cast your net around and see what you find.

Several weeks ago I had a difficult Sunday morning, lots of strong emotions and recollections about Kim. Rather than push these difficulties away, like something outside intruding, I have been massaging them like kinked muscles of my interior. The intensity and memories passed and I naturally transitioned into preparing to visit a friend. Later, in the bathroom, I was overwhelmed with Kim's presence surrounding me in every direction -- everything I looked at was there by her choice, the paint on the wall, the linoleum of the floor -- and the emotions rushed up throughout my body and out my expressive facilities as cries and tears. CRASH! from down the hall... I looked around. The wall of the bedroom adjoining the bathroom, up above the chestofdrawers, is a shelf that has had several items for several years -- a concertina I gave her, some books, a wood box, and a framed photograph of the 3 of us. The photo was one she had arranged, the one professional family portrait we have, and one that I had brought to her when she was in hospital last February. The books had decided to fall sideways and push the box, which knocked the photo onto the floor, breaking the metal frame. I was wigged: her presence had seemed strong to me, so the crash seemed directly connected to that 'inkling', like she did it to express something from the beyond. Interestingly, when I later visited with my friend and told him of the episode, he suggested that the force was perhaps my energy; a suggestion that led me to massage my kinked inkling into supple varieties of the possible beyond that ridged original impression.

love you
-K

--
All through the body are hands and eyes.
http://www.binau.com/Kent/blog