CHOICES

“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy

Sharing his mother’s state of being. 

A town nestled next to a river

How does one tear down and build anew?

River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.

Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes, 

People wearing helmets working

Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert

Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land 

Long deliberations in what the town needs:

Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract

Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.

Building a promenade on riverfront, 

Passageway along railroad tracks,

Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments

Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,

A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.

One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway 

Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness

Now a channel for artistic expressions,

Vivid, vibrant, living project

Come, look, linger, get involve.

Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune

I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich, 

A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.

I take my time. I do not eat with haste.

Like town dreamers, like my friends

I, too, have choices and concerns

Should I join the frenzy of high technology

Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”

Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity

Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?

In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still

How will the young boy paint the river?

Let image follow imagination like spells of delight

Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity

A journey of praise of what one truly loves.

In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.

I will write my praise.

Musings on Sunday After Christmas

Hide in a shelter of trees in the woods and listen to avian conversations, sweet songs and chatter

Serenades in chants of love songs, birds flirting, time phrases

Simultaneous displays of affection

When evening comes, lie down on the meadow to ease you muscle aches and back discomfort

Watch the stars appear ten by ten until you can’t count them anymore

Your brain nudges the hammock of neural synapses connecting lifelines of attention and comfort

The fragrance of grass, beauty of flower garlands open your senses to a new chemistry

The body is intelligent in an unknown way and know what to subtract and add in wholesome well being before you yourself knows what’s happening.

Open space embrace with soothing air and mountain views like a sanctuary as if nature is speaking to you. And understand emotionally what the birds are singing. The secret is not what you imagine but what you feel.

You know you will need tremendous courage to follow your own rules.

Some songs and calls are fading

The birds are facing extinction

Encroachment in their habitats or human neglect

The birds chant offers a sense of place and time and peace

We are losing the outdoors richness when our winged friends leave or die.

Don’t abandon the birds, they are helpless pretty creatures and friends

If you don’t answer your questions you have to find one who can. Don’t presume you are the first one to ask.

Vulnerability

The story, in the telling, sounds unreal like a dream,she is there,

She is telling it like it’s presently evolving,happening in real time,

not extracting it from memory

To rise again when all striving seems to have been all exhausted is a man of honor and courage. I can aspire to be that man who participates.

First let me wash the the dishes. Unclean sink does not promise a good dish. A hungry man does not mean he does not wants to eat a delicious dish. 

Brene Brown says “vulnerability is not a weakness “. Vulnerability is like a tire that has to pass all kinds of terrain to show real character, it’s resilience.

Mrs. Abstract and I and with two of our friends went to Spain last year. We visited Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

Old Age

Where will they hide, the feral cats?

Cranes have ancient places to migrate to

With years added to years one thinks

Of these things like pointed pursuits.

 

One idea takes hold of another idea

Like rising pitch of a siren hurrying to a destination

Cranes know where to go

And where to return.

 

Dreams can be deep in the subconscious

Will functional imaging know?

Subconscious messages wanting explanations

Who will quote them?

 

Somewhere new light is emerging

The eagerness is hard to stop

Shortening years do not dwell on losses

Not in darkness but in new striving.

 

Life is to be mastered and celebrated

Life can be full to the end.

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Sublime

Can I see it or feel it?

Above simplicity?

I walk to the river

The part of the world opens

Other walkers walk alone

Or with their dogs or with other walkers

Nature greets us in songs and colorful displays

Do we need measurements

And ask : Will experience be sublime?

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Tomorrow

We are  sheltered in for more than 2 months now. There are changes that everyone has noticed before: air is cleaner, less cars driving in the neighborhood, in the highways, the hills and mountains can be seen clearly. The world is new again.

But uncertainties remain. Vulnerability exposed. Maybe the same “vulnerability that songbirds feel every single day of their lives” as noted by Robin Wall Kimmerer., author of Braiding Sweetgarss.

Time is time. Not timeless.The pandemic reminds us of our impermanence.

There are now easings of restrictions. Our yearning for open space is more urgent. Will human touch be a strange feeling?

Tomorrow we hope to be curious again. Or maybe for the first time.

Tomorrow when I go out of the door I will be seeing a new world. One says, “ every beginning is monumental.” I will try to believe it.

 

note: 2 weeks ago I was hospitalized for 4 days. I was very sick with an infection. Not cobid-19. I was negative.

 I am home now and recovering favorably. I hope to resume walking to the river again everyday.

The book currently I’m reading or should I say I am listening at is Brading Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Appearances

107D4514-CF00-46F0-A676-7BB0B89F467EWhat is the danger of idleness?

Life can be an opposite of what you remember.

Ascending and descending from memory can be a restless dream

Until the rooster crows

Sometimes age doesn’t offer certainty but doubt

But should everyone experience endurance?

Amidst the stings you want to taste the hive

Look deep and make your own conclusion

We are supposed to use our imagination

A toil for every tree to build a forest

Does everything have to be clean and tidy?

Free of disorder?

Do we all have to come home?

The question can remain unsaid

But then it may appear as evasion

There are other challenges

Will they understand?