Mean streets

I woke up feeling rundown and mean. Went down for my morning coffee and ginseng ..but that didn’t help. I set up the deck furniture .. cursing at myself for being clumsy. Nothing’s falling into place. I change the newspaper at the bottom of my ‘birdcage’ porch ..cursing at the birds. I tell myself to relax ..otherwise, things seem worse. Doesn't stop me from wanting to scream at Don’s wife tho – tell her to quit turning their side of the creek into an English garden ..because once she got on my case for chopping down a eucalyptus tree. So, I’ve never learned her name ..and, hey ..it’s her property, live and let live, whatever, blah blah. Better to sit here and say nothing if I don’t have anything nice to say. I get the same gut-wrenching reaction to this mornings’ news ..I write the usual unprintable letters to the editor ..then put my legs up on a chair and begin dozing in front of my laptop. My neighbor Don shouts across the creek: “Don’t work so hard Bill ..!” I wake up startled. My initial reaction is to correct the misconception that I'm working hard. Then I realize he's joking ..then I answer back with something like: “Can’t you see the pressure I'm under here ? ”

Crash

Am I being poisoned by the weed killer across the creek ..or the fumigation across the street ? Maybe that’s what’s making me feel rundown and low ..but I don’t really know. Blurry spots drift by my field of vision ..and gently fall to the computer keys ..it looks like soot but I know it’s all in my eyes. Yesterday I hiked for 6 hours ..my longest time so far this year. It was a strenuous hike too ..30 minutes up to APS and ‘Sylvan Park' ..my first stop .. where I practice deep breathing exercises for 5 minutes. Up the steps to Mission Ridge, like climbing a stadium, where I breath for 5 minutes on a stone bench. Following the trail to ‘Franceschi park lookout’ ..I sit in my ‘hideaway’ and breath again. I climb some more and go around the bend ..stopping at ‘Stillness field’, with its Zen-like rock garden ..where I breath again. Loop around the hilltop on a shady country lane ..then drop down Arbolado way. I’ve been told that walking downhill teaches your legs how wide they can stride. So, I concentrate on stretching my legs and taking big steps. I know it looks funny. Crash ~ my motor coordination is off today ..as well as my equilibrium ..I fumble with the breakfast plates ..I stumble around the deck setting up table and chairs ..I catch myself by grabbing hold of the umbrella pole ..or hitting the fence, then the door-frame ..kinda’ like a bumper car.

Cosmos

Voyager One has reached the edge of our solar system ..it's in a region called the ‘heliosphere’ ..where tiny particles of the sun collide with the gasses of outer space. It’s a brutal place that’s continually expanding, contracting, rippling and shaking ..if you go there, expect a bumpy ride. Like a kid, I’m still fascinated by high-flying objects ..the borders of outer space ..and the edges of consciousness. If you don’t know enough about something, like, let say ..embryonics, is it better to explore further ..or back away ? Since Bush doesn’t appear to be very near the mainstream of modern science ..maybe he should back away and leave questions like this to the scientific community. I mean, doesn’t the business community also feel this way about government interference ..?

NeuroJournal

The networks of my mind feel sluggish today ..like they do whenever I try to connect them myself ..and put together a coherent narrative. It feels like I’m interfering with the natural, effortless flow of thought. I see fleeting networks of text fire while I read the paper ..only to disappear in an instant ..unless I intervene to make them persist ..extending them with reactions and opinions ..adding relevance and the weight of feeling ..like how does this information fit in with my plans to speak and sound ‘smart' at the computer club next week ..? I feel like I’m writing from my head too much ..so, I turn my attention to the senses ..see what they have to say. A strong, cold wind continues to blow by ..rattling the leaves of the trees ..while I hunker down in the warm and cozy shelter of my niche outside. I suddenly realize there’s a storm approaching ..because I remember the weather reports I heard last night ..connecting the gust of wind in front of me with something bigger, and more sinister somewhere out to sea ..resonating mind ..bringing me back into my head again.

Buzz

i feel kinda' restless today ..buzzed on caffeine and ginseng ..i'm somewhere between reading the paper ..watering the garden ..chatting online with sister nancy ..scanning the entertainment pages ..seeing what’s showing .. ‘cinderella man’ and ‘saving face’ –hmmm, i always like a come-out-of-nowhere indie flick ..surfing the net trying to find other books by cynthia morgan ..I guess stories about the adventures of marijuana farming have fallen out of favor these days –must be so low down the google hit-list of 500,000 ..i can’t see it. OK, should i take the train to orange county and see ‘saving face’ with nancy? now that sounds like an act of courage ..a headlong rush into the orange crush on a holiday weekend ..no, better to just sit here on the deck and feel the breeze with quan yin. soothe my restless soul. sure is cold out here tho ..I don’t think the sun is ever gonna break through the morning fog ..maybe it’ll slip underneath around sunset.

walls

the same
high walls
city streets
narrow avenues
shops and
alleyways
pass me by
on either side

i walk up
a dry river bed
quarreling with
people inside my head

some say
i'm ok
others say
i'm pissing my life away

my stomach burns
like an adrenaline drip
sending fumes to my chest
choking off my breath

no matter how far I go
every night, every day
these walls surround me
and i can’t get away

Chat

Bill: GOOD MORNIN’ SISTER MORPHIN’ ..!!
Nancy: LOL
Nancy: has Alicia Keys performed at the bowl yet ?
Bill: That is a positive ..last Tuesday
Nancy: and did you get to hear her?
Bill: only a smidgen, because I was watching the country music awards
Nancy: oh, that’s right !!
Bill: I watched them set up the stage tho ..but her tour bus wasn't there yet
Bill: and that's about as close as I’ll ever get ..lol
Bill: but I'm waiting for the day they invite me inside the bus ..
Nancy: LOL
Bill: and Alicia tells me to wait backstage
Bill: i'm also waiting for the day Melissa Etheridge performs here
Bill: or Charlize Theron winds up homeless here
Bill: or Hilary Swank starts working out at my gym
Bill: or Kate Beckinsale's boat comes sailing in
Bill: what was your question ..?
Bill: and when is Rene Zellweger gonna lose that deadbeat country singer?
Bill: I guess the real question is ..what dreams haven’t I been having ..lol
Bill: I was wondering, do Ellen Degeneres and Portia di Rossi get along ok?
Bill: or are they getting tired of that 'gay thang’ ..lol
Nancy: LOL
Bill: hey, mother always told me to aim high ..dream the impossible dream
Bill: how's business at the crack house next-door ..?
Bill: still keeping the books .?
Bill: what ever you do ..keep the disks ..they'll be worth a fortune in extortion

Quan Yin

Quan Yin is the Buddhist Bodhisattva of Great Compassion. She is not an external deity, but represents the compassion in everyone. In one hand, she holds a lotus flower, in the other, a vase of water. She is often shown pouring the water from the vase ..showering all living beings and awakening the spirit of compassion.

Lady Anna

Proprioceptive Write

Feeling my breath ..is it too shallow ? Breathing deeper ..filling my belly ..lifting my chest ..holding it ..then letting go ..releasing the grip I have on my thoughts and expressions. I feel my breath rise and fall again ..I try loosening my jaw ..maybe that will help the words come out more easily. Birds singing ..train whistling ..bringing me back to my senses ..the music inside fades ..making room for the next tune. Thoughts and images come and go ..the gym yesterday ..what I'm planning to do tomorrow ..in between there is a feeling of sadness. Where does that come from ? A bunch of possibilities present themselves for consideration. Fear of loneliness ..fear of living unfulfilled ..fear of getting involved ..then disappointing someone else. I tell myself to be comfortable with myself. There's no angel coming to release me from the karma I'm in ..just more numbness from the barriers that I keep around me. Visions of my mother sitting alone ..content and smiling. There weren't too many moments like that. A lot more trauma. Had numb relief taken over ? Thinking about it brings tears to my eyes ..and I ask myself ..am I doomed to re-enact it ?

Uncle John

Uncle John and his wife Carmen came up today. He’s not really my uncle ..and everybody calls him ‘Jack’ ..but ‘Uncle John’s Band’ is one of my favorite songs and Jack is one of my favorite people ..so, there you go. Today they are a ‘couple on vacation’ ..no hurries. We sit and talk ..drinking iced tea and beer on the pier’. They both like to read and say they do it a lot. That doesn’t surprise me though ..I always remember Uncle John with a book in his hand. He was the one who read passages out loud from Khalil Gibran during acid trips in the desert. Now they read English Literature –mostly mysteries and detective stories. Thomas Merton is on Carmen’s list of people to read next. Uncle John gets up around 4 a.m. every morning to be at a job site that could be anywhere in Southern Cal –like the Port of Los Angeles or Saint Mary’s Hospital in Long Beach. He’s a field supervisor and says he enjoys the challenge of dealing with new situations all the time ..I’m not sure Carmen likes him so far from home though. But that’s conjecture on my part. He’s still good natured and easy-going ..I don’t think much bothers him and I can’t recall ever seeing him angry. He looks both solid and flexible. Like an Oak. They like El Capitan and go camping there regularly ..except this year. Instead, they are going to drive up to Cloverdale and visit the Hay’s. “Little John is a seven year old boy in the body of a twenty year old” says Carmen. “He loves structure and routine” says Jack ..first he makes his bed ..then washes the dishes ..followed by the laundry –and pizza on Friday. He also likes computer games and karate –oh, and riding a bicycle ..especially in the morning at El Capitan ..with his father. When I think back, Jack was always a morning person –says that’s when it feels the freshest. I think it’s interesting that Little John has a strong sense of order ..hmmm, karate requires so much discipline and concentration. I wonder if he’s able to see things to completion. Probably so. Carmen says he’s getting better. Everybody finds a way.

Big walk

Walking up a twisty mountain trail with just enough presence of mind to lower the volume in my head and give my senses a boost. The trail switches back and forth. A wooden sign, hanging from a tree says ‘blind and steep’ ..(?) I lose the trail. Now I’m walking up a dry creek bed. Now I’m using my hands and feet to climb up a narrow gap between boulders. Now I’m standing in a clearing where another wooden sign says ‘ Sylvan Park’. I’m not lost anymore. I find the ancient stone steps and climb them to Franceschi Park. Now I’m sitting on an old rock wall surrounding the botanical garden. Time for walking meditation. I pay homage to the giant agaves, sycamore and pine trees. On top of mountain there’s another clearing bordered by huge eucalyptus trees. I walk around it on a shady trail that loops the mountaintop—then goes down the side where there’s a view of the Pacific Ocean clear to the islands off the coast of China. They’re really the Channel Islands but I like to tell people that. Feeling less adventurous, I take a short cut through the County Bowl. Even though I have a key ..the gates are open and the tour buses are there – so I skip down the aisles and watch the Roadies setting up the stage. I ask who’s playing and they say ‘Maroon 5’. I wonder if I’m gonna’ miss a good show. Maybe I’ll hang around and listen to the sound check. Then if I have an ounce of energy left, I’ll go up to the ticket window and ask ‘hey, what’s shakin’.

Some kind of tranquility

I'm on deck writing. I call it ‘tranquility base’ because that's what the sign says on the fence over my head ..the sign my sister gave me. There’s also a creek running by and trees filtering the sun ..gives me a sense of, well .. tranquility. My laptop sits perched on the table next to me. It’s connected to the Internet wirelessly. I like to think of it as an open portal to everyone everywhere. I chat on it from time to time. A ‘westerly’ comes through the trees and I move into the protection of the porch. Now I’m sitting under a Finches nest. They’re probably wondering what I'm doing on their property below. They’re turning my porch into, like ..the bottom of a birdcage. It’s OK ..I got newspaper. Today I'm giving myself a mental health break. A reward for finishing a project on time. Been hunkered down behind a computer so long ..I need to refresh my senses ..improve my peripheral vision ..stretch my legs ..and look at my feet. Now I notice I’m mentally chatting with people who aren’t there ..creating instances of them in my head so to speak. I give them voices and simulate conversations we really had ..picking up where we left off. Now I’m quarreling. Now I’m telling myself to stop quarreling. Now I’m giving it a different ending.