The Sunday Morning Muse, March 18, 2018

It's Sunday and the sun is rising up over the city through my window,  on a chilly 21 degree day.  I really notice the floaters in my eyes getting worse when I look at the sunrise, so that detracts from the glory of the moment somewhat.  My one friend got rid of his floaters with surgery. Punctured his eye in three places and took out all the fluid inside and replaced it with saline.   My eye doctor says I'm not ready for that yet.  Don't know if he meant physically, emotionally, or both.  It does sound like an exquisite form of torture. But I digress.

I am a caregiver to my 87 year old disabled mother.  No, this blog isn't going to be about that.  This is my escape from that.  Yet, at times, like today, I feel compelled to write that right now there is yodeling coming from the other room as she is listening to a German program on the radio.  Not ideal conditions to create deep thoughts and convey them to you on this blog.  But I'll just move along.

The snowbells are up....and I spotted two crocuses  ( croci?) yesterday near the house.  I measure the year by flowers.  Snowbells are always first....we'll be waiting for the daffodils and tulips next. Will Trump be impeached in lilac time or must we wait for the Sunflowers?

The Sunday Morning Muse, March 4, 2018

So...before we were rudely interrupted..... now what was it we were going on about? Well, let's just begin anew.  It's Sunday and the sun is rising above the city and I'm feeling this inner stirring to
write again.  I'll need a few posts to find my bearings, so bear with me. :)

"It's a cocky old world," Aunt Millie used to say.  Yes, it is dear.  Oh, if you had lived to see what it's become! I'm still here on your hill, the land where your father settled on at the turn of the last century.  Since that time, many are gone. First went those who remembered World War I,  and now the last few veterans of World War II are disappearing. You counted the widows on the hill remaining of your generation, and now the next generation of widows are dying off  as the cycle continues.

Some things remain.  The daffodils still come back each spring where the steps used to be going up to the old "Bum" School.  The bulbs planted sometime in the 40's or 50's..... no way to tell. The school
is long gone, the land overrun by thickets and locust trees.... but the path of the steps is laid out each year for a short time.  The path of daffodils.

Waiting for spring again.  The birds are up this morning, their songs carrying in the cold air as I took
food out to Yellow Cat.  (More about him later.)

It's good to be back.

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 16, 2014

A cloudy, 10 degree morning.  Snow in the yard has solidified into ice 5 inches deep, cumulative, from these weeks of sleet, ice and snow. The smaller critters in the back yard walk on top...the deer still sink in. Plenty of tracks around the edge of the woods and the dump out back.

Went into the city to Value City Furniture for their President's day sale yesterday, looking for bedroom furniture.  This is something I managed to put off for 3 and a half years...as I've made do with a vintage 1950's set mom and dad bought when they got married.  All mirrors and not enough storage. Very Heavy.

Walking in I was immediately overwhelmed by the size of everything.  Big puffy furniture....  bloated and oversized couches and chairs big enough for 350 pound people.  Huge sleigh beds.... Ass high off the
floor just to get onto them.    Large pictures of Zebras and crazy patterned modern art for the walls.   I just stared with mouth open.  Crazy looking chairs shaped like giant shoes.

Nothing there for me.

Then went up the highway to Ashley Furniture. Another huge place with  BIGGER huge furniture.... Most of it very dark wood.... or Black laquer and super gaudy.   Stuff with mirrors built in.....  or wild 1970s patterns and oddly juxtaposed colors.  Dining room sets you could put in an old mansion. The kind with a dinosaur under the staircase...

Our sales woman was named "Cat."  She had big  Donny Iris type glasses and short razor cut hair and was about  60.  She had wonderful perfume. And perfectly manicured nail tips.

I asked about an oak bedroom set.  Something Simple.  And a headboard to fit a "full" size mattress. She got this strange look and said we have nothing like that here.   Oh...wait.... maybe in the back.....so we walked.   Then walked more,  and there really WAS nothing like that there.

She said "no one" has full-sized beds anymore.  Just queen sized.... or King.   Was I interested in a children's bed?  You want oak?  We really don't have anything with "light" colored wood.  Did you want White?

No.

My head hurt and I was not doing well at this point,  a bit anxious.  So we left.

On the way home, the brother in law said let's stop at the Furniture Barn. (It's a place in the very small town where he lives.  Just a half mile from his house.  The town has one stop light and it sometimes just blinks.)

We walked in the building, which at one time probably was a barn.  The "office" is filled with old pictures of the "original" store.... with vintage cars from the 1950's out front....and a framed roster of  Civil war veterans with some names "from the family"  hanging on the wall.   It is a humble place with  a can of wasp spray on the window......and the clutter of years of business.

I asked the old man for an oak bedroom suite.   He said we'd have to "go upstairs."   So we did.

And way at the back in the corner was a perfect oak chest,  small oak dresser, simple oak framed mirror, oak side table and a simple headboard, that fits both Full and Queen.  And that was all he had in oak.  It is made in the USA, he added.

And I bought it.  In 10 minutes.   Free Delivery.  And he knows where I live. Because he remembered selling me a couch 16 years ago.

I  told him I'd be back soon for a new couch.

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 9, 2013

A snowy, very cold Sunday Morning. Two cats curled up on the bed, and me fiddling with the Kindle, downloading a Ghost detector app. It's been rather isolating these days with the bad weather. Maybe I can talk to the ghosts.

Okay, I'm not that bored. I'm really procrastinating.  I want to start income taxes today.  I do. I really do. I think if I keep telling myself that, then I will do it.  But until then, I'm blogging and ghost detecting and doing all kinds of important things.  Eating a donut. Making more coffee.

It's hard to get out and see people in winter. (Work doesn't count.) Friends check in on Facebook, or leave an email, a text, maybe even a real phone call once in a while.  But short of the people at work, and the people in Lowe's, I am feeling a bit isolated lately.   The basement project continues. The floor wasn't all that level, so we bought "leveler" and leveled it up where the new yoga room is taking shape. It's a project that is making the winter months a bit more bearable. Shoveling snow is not a hobby. Thankfully I have had some help with the driveway, since this is the winter from....well not Hell, but maybe once Hell Freezes over, it can be described as that.

With the Olympics getting underway, I see the athletes enjoying the snow up there in the mountains of Russia.  Hope it works out well for them. Go Team USA.  I shudder with every flip the snowboarders do off the slopes.  Defying the laws of gravity seems like an endeavor that will inevitably result in bodily harm.  I admire the skills, but their fearlessness both impresses me and again, makes me shudder.

The Sunday Morning Muse

We're still a little while from sunrise as I begin this missive, but the streaks of pink are starting to form in the east just above some dark heavy rain clouds on the horizon.  I see a chemtrail of a plane in the distance, some early morning flight to somewhere. Warm enough to open the window for the cat.

It's been another week of nonsense and hostage taking in Washington. I've had it with the teabaggers. Bunch of ignorant fools willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Don't mess with my retirement money. I'm getting old and can't take the stock risks anymore. All this nonsense is having an effect on the markets. When you have to chose between your money and your pride, I take the money everytime. Lick your wounds and go buy something to sooth your fragile egos.  Perhaps it's time these imbeciles took advice from the fatcats out there, since they won't listen to the commonfolk.

Been musing about fear this week. Fear of the unknown, fear of being alone, fear of middle age, etc. The heavy stuff. Fears hold people back from many things. But they also keep us clinging to things. I read all this Zen stuff about letting go...allowing...don't push the river-type stuff, perhaps in an attempt to ease my mind and let go of my need to try to control things that happen. Little things are easily scattered....but if you let things go, they become big things. Not so easy to scatter...or make right....again. I am constant motion. Scattering things...watching so that things don't run out.  I spend time trying to anticipate so many needs...with my lists and work projects and all the day to day stuff of life. So much stems from fear. Being able to keep all the plates spinning.... even when life throws curve balls at you.

The Tao talks about about the Sage not flitting about like a fool. The words speak to the wisdom of finding happiness right where you are. The answers are not "out there" somewhere. It's in Here. Within ourselves and the circumstances we find ourselves in. I more or less live like that. I do find my joy close to home. Yet I have much work to do when it comes to letting go. Giving over and allowing things to happen as they may and not use up present moments in fear and worry so much.  In the end it's all about peace of mind, right? That's where I always end up, no matter whose thoughts I read, or what I listen to.

Oh, so much of all this isn't thought out perfectly this morning. But that's okay. I'm "allowing" thoughts to fall onto the page this morning without trying to be my own editor, too.

The sun is up over the valley. Another day to start again. Petting cats, cooking chicken, doing laundry, and making a bouquet of the last of the garden flowers.... while the snowblower lurks at the back of the garage.

The Sunday Morning Muse, September 8, 2013

(Singing Star...above... a shout out to my friend Anthony who gave me this 30 years ago.)

Almost another trip around the sun. Birthday coming up this week. One good thing about it is a coupon for a free adjustment from the Chiropractor, which I quickly put into action.  Now the neck feels a lot better. Still have other assorted aches and pains but no one wants to hear about them.

Sun peeking through clouds this morning. Lazy cats on the window sill. An occasional growl when one gets too close.

I'm sure the Sunday Morning talking heads will be discussing what to do about Syria. Do we live in a world where nations stand by and let thousands of innocent people be slaughtered?  Do we start dropping bombs and hope that this will put a stop to it? I don't have the answer. The footage of the millions of refugees to neighboring countries is also disturbing to me. They are scared of their own government. They fled their homes and are living in tent camps, some with no water or bathroom facilities. It is horrible.

Back here at home, it's pulled pork dinner and birthday cake, watching the Steelers, paying bills, and basically living life. When we switch the channel on the TV the refugees are gone. But they aren't.

Another birthday here in paradise. 

The Sunday Morning Muse, August 25, 2013

Sun is bright, air is crisp and it is going to be a nice day.  Had to water the flowers yesterday. Rain has been scarce lately. There's a bit of fog over the river today. It seems the entire hill across the valley has disappeared. Another  Pleasant Valley Sunday.

Ate what was probably the last of the blueberries on the bush yesterday. Sad about that. It's nice to have
a constant source of blueberries for a few weeks. Freezing them is never the same. And putting fresh ones in a Cool Whip container in the fridge is never a good idea. I thought we had plenty of Wool Whip but we don't. We have berries that I forgot about that don't look so good now.

I'm reading the late Tim Russert's book about his father. I always liked Russert. I miss him a lot on Meet the Press. He was fair, intelligent and did his homework. And he could break things down to simple terms. You never got the feeling he was talking down to you. I rarely watch the show now. Politics isn't as fun anymore. Now it's just constant partisan bickering and games and no real work that actually helps people.

And news sucks too. The line between infotainment and news is gone now. It's all infotainment. I still watch the evening news to keep up on the world. I want to know the latest world crisis, anything new in science and health care, perhaps a nice human interest story and that's it. The 24 hour news cycle, with it's breathless urgency, has disappointed too often. Selling too much sizzle and not enough steak for me.

Am I depressed? No. Far better to be outside in the garden, or working on the latest house project. Today
it's the kitchen.  Mellow Yellow. Oh, not really.... it's Sunrise Yellow or something like that. But to me, Mellow Yellow. Because Saffron's made about me.

The Sunday Morning Muse, August 18, 2013

Sunday again. It's claw cutting time around here and right now I'm losing. Sweet Pea has 6 out of 10 done, (I do only the front paws)and Sambo stands at 4 out of 10.  Coco was done weeks ago. You can do anything to that cat. I hold her like a baby, kiss her stomach, hold up her front paws and dance with her.... she is sweet.  The other two are terrors to work with.

Sitting outside with mom yesterday talking about Egypt. "Here we are sitting outside in the sun, comfortable, enjoying the day and then there's all that trouble over in Egypt. What's wrong with those people? Why are they killing each other?"

The images on TV are hard to see. And just as hard to explain to my 82 year old mother. Sigh. Well, they

have kind of like a civil war going on even though they had an election. The people they elected didn't do what they wanted to do, and now supporters of the government are fighting the people who are against the government. It's a mess. We don't really support either one but hope they can figure it out. A shame that so much killing and violence is occurring. Now even museums and antiquities are being destroyed. What a waste. 

A lot of hawks around this year. The crows hate them. I'm leery of them and keep close eye on the cats. The chipmunk that was here all summer is missing. I hate to think of him as some hawk's dinner, but it's possible.

The tomatoes...Ponderosa Pinks, are finally getting ripe. I don't eat tomatoes, I just grow them, but these ones are pretty exceptional. It's to the point where mom is keeping track of who gets how many, making sure there are plenty left for her. Low acid, sweet and low seeds. And they are huge.

Debating on a new door. 500 bucks, plus you have to stain it yourself. Cheaper ones look cheap. I know, it's just a door after all, but the original wooden door is expanding in the humidity and people can't get outside and have to go around front. This won't be a problem in the fall and winter....so perhaps it is a good time to procrastinate. 

Perhaps another day sitting in the sun, cutting the cats claws one at a time, and pondering about why we have it so good here and people are killing each other in Egypt. Taking pictures of butterflies.

The Sunday Morning Muse, August 11, 2013

I'm back!  It's taken a little longer than I had anticipated but I'm here.  I missed you all. Summer is flying by at an alarming rate.  It's already time for the Perseids meteor shower.  Now you can "listen" to the meteors, courtesy of Spaceweather radio. When you head outside to look for shooting stars, put your earbuds in and plug into into the internet and there you go. Personally I would prefer some kind of trippy music. The kind they play in places where you get massage or Reiki.  But it's a cool thing.

In other news, lately I've found myself returning again and again online to Andy Warhol's grave. Usually a graveyard livecam would be pretty dull. What could you see in a graveyard? But someone tied balloons to the grave for his birthday and they flutter around, so you are aware it is a live cam and not a still shot.  Also, I've seen people come to visit. They sometimes put things on the grave, or take pictures. One idiot was on a cell phone and mugging for the camera so I suspect he was more interested in having his friends "see" him at the grave on their computers than showing respect for Warhol.

Which brings me to my feelings on this whole thing. I feel sorry for the families of the other dead people around him. I wonder how they feel knowing that the eternal resting place of their loved one is monitored 24/7 on the internet? Also, how would Andy view this?  Is this parade of visitors better than no visitors at all? Does this all matter anyway because he is dead? Is it a tribute to his life or an invasion of his death?

You can turn up the volume and "listen" too. I hear birds mostly. And the muffled voices of the gawkers and picture takers and occasional car motor noises. Then the sounds of silence. Peace.

The Sunday Morning Muse, May 26, 2012

I'm back in this chair, and it's a beautiful, but chilly Sunday morning. The fog is rising over the river and the temps didn't get low enough to kill anything blooming. Buckets over the tomatoes in the garden,  lilies at the end of the driveway draped with sheets, and everything else left to brave this frustrating weather. Cats tucked safely in the "cell block" in the basement, and me with the extra thick blanket on the bed last night.

I've taken a bit of a news vacation, preferring to listen to public radio out of Pittsburgh and reading a few more books. Turning the volume down a bit on outside chatter and outrage. So far it has been a pleasant experience.  Spending time outside helps, too. The greenhouse is full, and there is still plenty of weeding to do before I can put the plants in the flower beds.

The Sunday Morning Muse, April 28, 2013

It was supposed to be pretty easy. Buy a TV, plug it in, turn it on.

Not anymore.

Back in the Leave it to Beaver Days it was that easy. Unless you count the time adjusting rabbit ears.

A week, and several dozen attempts to adjust the color from several different screens, and a tangled mess of trying different coax cords, plugging in various other things into it and such, I am left with the task of packaging the whole mess up, taking it back and resigning in defeat.  If there is way to make this TV look as brilliant and vibrant as advertised, I'll be damned if I can do it.

I see now the light pinks and purples on the horizon just before sunrise out my window. I can't help but wonder how this inferior, dull, fuzzy TV would capture the experience.  I hope I get no hassles on the exchange. But wait, I don't want an exchange. I want my money back to go try another. In search of...perfect color.

In Search Of. I just remembered that show. My dad and I used to watch it. BigFoot,  The Swamp Monster...Good Grief, that link I just shared has most of the shows!   Leonard Nimoy narrating. Wow.

A distraction. Okay, moving on. Speaking of old TV shows, Allan Arbus died this week. Sidney Freedman on MASH, he was 95. That puts him in his mid 60's when he was on MASH. I really enjoyed the shows he was in. He played a  psychiatrist who was called in for special cases, and his sense of humor and humanity came through so well, it made it hard to think he WASN'T a psychiatrist in real life. Alan Alda reflected this week that between scenes he would talk to Allan and ask him questions and Allan would say "How would I know? I'm not a psychiatrist!"

I recently saw the episode with the best quote from Freedman ever:  "Ladies and Gentleman take my advice! Pull down your pants and slide on the ice!"

MASH was one of the shows I had on this week when I was futzing with the new TV.  Kinda hard to adjust the color though when so much of the set...and costumes were green. On my TV the faces were green, too.

The Sunday Morning Muse, April 22, 2013

Hello Sunday morning.

Sun is drying out the just opened but now frozen in place tulips. Sad. I think they will survive though. I have sixty of them along the rock wall...and more in the other flower beds.

Second cup of coffee with a slice of Finnish Bread. Yum.

It's Earth Day. How about a nice quote from John Muir:


“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”

Looks like the sun will be out a lot today and I can be outside away from the TV. Now that the other Boston bombing suspect is in custody perhaps the media will calm down and go back to obsessing over the North Korean dictator or the fertilizer plant explosion. It will be a welcome change from the wall to wall live coverage of reporters getting in the way of emergency responders. Not to mention the repetitious,  idiotic comments and speculation in lieu of hard facts. I couldn't stand it anymore and shut it off pretty early on.  A particularly low moment was when Brian Williams, during the evening news cast "cut" to the live feed of the local broadcasters covering the "lock down," and the "reporter" was immediately heard saying "We don't know *hit."

Makes you yearn for Walter Cronkite.

That's the way it is.

The Sunday Morning Muse, March 24, 2013

Faded peach light making a ring over the other hill. The sun cannot be far behind. The stillness is the story

this morning. Not a branch moving outside. Still cold out there. Chimney smoke coming out of rooftops in the distance. Cat took over the bed. She appreciates a good warm spot.

Easter is fast approaching.  Living with mom means the stuffed rabbit collection dominates the livingroom and there are enough decorated eggs, chick figurines and easter themed decals and flowers around to rival any bunny lane attraction. My contribution? A huge lily with five buds. My tastes run much less adorned, but for now at least, this is how it is. I retreat to the basement  a lot where I am going to start my seeds this week, now that the growing lights are all set up. 

This week I found myself in the absurd situation of picking out Easter cards for another person (mom, who is home bound) to give to someone else, even though mom is not religious, and the other people may or may not be religious. Hmm. I tried to pick colorful, happy looking cards, mostly spring themed as a compromise.

 In the end, I had too many bunnies and not enough Jesus.  I had to go back and get a few more religious ones, because mom sends religious cards to the religious, and bunny and flower type cards to the others. 

Easter, to me,  is a time of looking forward to the new season. A renewal of life after a long winter. Eating a good ham, and enjoying home made pierogies. Treating yourself to a chocolate bunny or grabbing a half dozen jelly beans when you walk past the candy dish. Its ritual. It's familiar and good. Its daffodils and crocuses and the robins are back. I saw one this week near the dump looking for worms in the soft ground.

I saw the footage of our President in the Holy Land this week and it made me sad. I saw the beauty of the ancient cities he visited, and was truly impressed at what wonders man can build. Without the use of modern machinery, too! 

But  I also saw the works of "modern" man, too.  The  150 foot wall of steel Israel is putting up to wall itself off, in the midst of continuing battles with their enemies.  A pity. 

I couldn't help wondering....if any of these people, any of them, of any religion....Christian, Muslim, Jew...actually believe a wonderful afterlife awaits them, why aren't they happy? The course of human events should seem trivial to them, merely passing issues compared to their glorified afterlife. If they KNOW, really have their "faith"....why wouldn't they be content with that? Why kill people over land? 

I'll never know.

The Sunday Morning Muse, March 17, 2013

Darkness still over the valley and I've been up a couple hours now. Waiting for the Sun.

Slogging through March. When did it get like this? Fog-rain-snow-gloom-cold. I remember March as a kid as the start of Kite flying season. Blustery and fresh....spring... light jackets, mud.

So here we are. Too cold in March to pay good money for expensive kerosene for the greenhouse. Walking the aisles of Lowes with an old man who works there showing me options for grow lights to put in the basement. Perhaps if I can invest less than 50 bucks I can figure out a way to grow some seeds to the point
6 weeks from now maybe when the greenhouse won't freeze everything dead because of cold nights.

This mini iris bloomed one year ago on this date. Spring will come eventually.

The Sunday Morning Muse, March 10, 2013

Good morning. A bit tired today with daylight' savings time and all. No sunrise for the cat yet, staring into darkness out the window.

Yesterday was, to me, the first day of spring. It's not spring yet officially of course, but I saw the first crocus, the daffodils are up a few inches, and I pruned the blueberry bushes. It was 50 degrees and the sun shone brightly. The Greenhouse was 70 degrees inside. The cat laid in the sun. Period. Just laid there and put her nose in the breeze. I could almost share her thoughts.

The house seemed dank and airless when I came back inside. It's time to close the book on winter.

This week I went to the cemetery to take Dad's poinsettias off the grave. (I know, I'm a procrastinator.) The cemetery is in terrible condition right now and I realized that instantly as I turned off the main road. Wreaths are strewn like forgotten frizbees everywhere. Most plastic flowers are still on the graves, but some are horribly weathered, tattered, scattered and just a general mess. The ruts in the roadways back to to the graves are so bad I almost lost a tire. In short, I was pissed off right from the start. Isn't this supposed to be a respectful, serene, even hallowed place? Don't these people make enough money to pay someone to clean up? It's MARCH.

I was ruminating in all this when I got out of the car and noticed immediately that someone had to be clawing
their way out of here, because no one was supposed to be buried in Aunt Dorothy's grave. In a word, I was flummoxed. In the row below dad, Dorothy's husband has been occupying his grave quite alone since the 1980's and a double tombstone clearly marks the empty space where someday.... not today...his wife will
be laid to rest beside him.

I stood and stared. You know the feeling when something totally unexpected happens, like when Suki's bed started to shake in the middle of the night and she ran all sorts of possibilities in her head....Exorcist-type thoughts, burglars.... (under the bed??!!)... but it didn't occur to her it was an earthquake until later.

Well, this was similar. First thought...some terrible subsidence. Look, isn't the headstone sagging there? And the ground doesn't look disturbed as much on top, a few ruts maybe...but hell, it looks like someone....was put IN THERE. There's fresh mud, a bigger hole opening up along the side, but clearly the ground is very much disturbed here.  Hmmm.  (Keep in mind, this cemetery is looking pretty shoddy at best right now, perhaps a clerical error of some sort....another  Dorothy....buried here. I just didn't know.) But a bad gravedigging none the less. Subsidence, PLUS another body. Possible?

Or what about the sinkhole on TV the other night. Man eaten by the earth itself while in his bed. Hmmph.

Either way, I knew I had to make a phone call. And I was dreading it.

I ran a few trial conversations in my head when I got home. A tender way to tell her that she had to look into this, and in the mean time I would tell her about the holes in the road...and the wreaths and how bad it is here, too. Just because this would help my cause when I call and complain later on.... but those complaints were minor now compared to the possibility of... what went wrong with her grave.

So do I just dart to the end and tell what happened?

Well, there was this half price vault sale.... and a while back she signed up for it, and the gravediggers just got around to putting it in a few weeks ago. So, yes, subsidence is an issue. But no, there is no one clawing their way out, and no one buried in the wrong place. She did call and complain about how bad things look, so that's something.

I don't think I want to be buried at all.


(Later.)

The Sun is coming up now. And it's time for some fresh air.

The Sunday Morning Muse, March 3, 2013

Light snow falling, no sunrise today...snow covered roofs, an inch or so on the driveway. Birds huddled in the bushes. Cat is oblivious to it all. I'm reading a book by Steve Hagen, Buddhism Plain and Simple.  It was really nice to be in my bed with a book, cat by my side, fake fireplace glowing, and just staying put. I love Sunday mornings.

So far the book is what it says it is. I want to know what Buddhism is and what it is not. I have become familiar with some of the teachings over the years. Now I want to learn more and see what it is really about.

 Present moment living is a big part of it. And also trying to escape the suffering that we as humans endure--a lot of it our own making. Haven't we all had the experience of worrying about something in our life, fearful of how this particular thing will play out? Oftentimes our own dreamed up concept of what is going on, or what will occur, turns out to be something far different than the reality that plays out. We all live in the present moment, and it is really all we have. I don't say that with any sense of loss, I say it with the thought in mind to
try and wake up and experience this beautiful life here and now.

Second mug of coffee. You see, here is an example: I don't think I even tasted the first cup. Truly. I am so absorbed in the morning ritual around here, that actually sipping the coffee instead of gulping it, tasting it and appreciating the aroma of it, doesn't really register. So... in honor of my new awareness, right now I took a piece of chocolate, took a sip of coffee with it and swished it around in my mouth. There. That is being in the moment.  And really liking it!

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 24, 2013

 Why is it that people are so enamored with "end of the world" type stories? We obsessed over Y2K and the Mayan Calendar,  the End of Times religious scenarios, asteroids blasting us into smithereens, or whatever.

This week it's the Malachy Prophesies. Hundreds of years ago some prophet predicts there will be  112 popes....and now what happens? The 111th one quits. Here we go. I made a bet on the Pope lottery this week. I feel the next Pope will be Italian. My feeling is that the last one was German, and Polish before that. The Italians may feel the need to take back some control over there in Rome with things being as bad as they are in the Catholic religion lately.

If you have a lonely uncle (or great aunt in my case) who sits around and watches Fox News all day and is up half the night listening to Coast to Coast,  they have their own far out ideas of the coming future. My 87 year old aunt won't buy new linoleum for her kitchen floor because she says the world is coming to an end anyway. Besides with the Great Depression coming, she says, we will all need the money to buy food. All stated matter of fact-ly.

Once a reasonable person, she is now reduced to a paranoid, fearful woman who hates the government, trusts no one,  and fears whatever is left of her future. How could she not be afraid? With our "Muslim" president and his "far out liberal ideas?" The pretty woman with the blonde hair and the very tight red dress wouldn't LIE to her?  Would she? Rich people shouldn't pay taxes at all...they are the Job Creators!

No sense talking to her about it. I just told her the linoleum REALLY does need replaced.  It's yellowed and
pockmarked and just looks bad.

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 17, 2013

It's a winter weather advisory morning....that means a dusting of snow on the road. Pretty to look into the woods, though...and along the driveway the snowbells are the first flower to bloom. Just tiny little things...but a sign of what is to come.

Unless we get wiped out by an asteroid or meteor or some other falling star too big to put in your pocket. (I almost posted a Perry Como video here, but they were just too...cheesy...I guess.)

That sure was something this week. Sheesh. You just never know. We all had our eye on the big asteroid that was to graze past us by a good 17 thousand miles...and then, as Donovan would put it, God was playing marbles with his planets and his stars...and BAM!  The sky lights up in Russia and hundreds are hurt, buildings are damaged and thousands are left scratching their heads....what the HELL was that? A meteor!
On the same day as the asteroid zipping past.

Kind of puts things in perspective. You really don't know what the day will bring.

Update:  I watched this report on CBS Sunday Morning about the hunt for meteorites in a remote place here on earth. I am fascinated by what scientists can learn about the origins of the solar system from the study of the fragments of asteroids and meteorites that find their way here from great distances.  The story really builds interest for the program....and then the kicker. You'll never guess which Senators oppose this scientific research.  I won't give it away, but when I saw the names they came as no suprise to me. They were never big intellectual heavyweights. Where is the sense of wonder? We are just at the brink of learning so much about the ancient beginnings of this thing called life...Such accomplishments like sending a man made rocket clear to the outer edge of our solar system.....the Hubble telescope's wonderous images.... the Mars landings. Perhaps it is easier to just believe the earth is six thousand years old and just stick your fingers in your ears and say la la la as you pray to a God you fear. The tree of knowledge is out there. I praise those
who choose to climb it.

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 10, 2013

What a great sunrise today..... purples and light orange stretched out over the entire hill across the river as far as I can see. Already productive.... ordered more flower seeds....finally found the 6 foot Amaranthus called Velvet Curtains, that I like so much. I got the wrong kind last year....and they only grew about 2 feet. The giant burgundy plumes are a favorite around here. The Dreadlocks amaranthus is also one that I grow every
year and share with others. It is so unusual and one of the last flowers left in the garden in Fall.  It is really a cool plant.

Thinking ahead to spring. Musing about buying more poetry books, and fewer books on gastroenterology. I also resolve to read at least one love story. (Meanwhile, I just ordered The Wild Life of Our Bodies: Predators, Parasites and Partners that Shape Who We are Today.) I got the idea to order that one from reading a story in the paper today about probiotics.  Antibiotics are stripping our guts of good bacterium as well as the bad....and we need to keep things in balance or risk some nasty digestive problems.

I'm not a total medical geek. I still find time to read an occasional Longfellow poem, or Whitman, or Dickinson. And that is a good thing.  I read where some anti intellectuals are trying to steer people away from taking "liberal arts" courses in favor of more "practical" fields of study. Their argument is that Philosophy
majors don't get jobs. Perhaps. I didn't major in Philosophy, but I did graduate from a Liberal Arts College. My courses in  Philosophy...and art, and theatre and history and literature opened up new worlds
for me and helped to develop my critical thinking skills. I got a window into world views and ideas that shape who I am today. I have used a lot of that knowledge time and time again in my life, in every job that I had.

And it expanded my life in ways I could never imagined for myself. I'm grateful for those courses. Even the religion classes I had to take as a requirement. I didn't know it at the time, but learning ABOUT religion...and the many religions out there...how they formed, who was in charge, how religious texts came about, etc. gave me enough insight to know we have to figure out a lot of things for ourselves. No one really has all the answers.

It is one thing to learn computers. It is another to have something to say. We are not meant to be empty vessels travelling through this life getting by simply learning a trade and repeating it day to day until we are old and die. I'm not saying we don't need a job, it is obvious we do. But I think these clam shells out there who have no sense of history, art, music, and yes philosophy, only have a small appreciation of what this human experience offers.

The Sunday Morning Muse, February 3, 2013

It's Sunday morning once again. No sun to speak of...yet. Snow out there. Cold. Dark. Lights from the houses on the hill over the viaduct kind of look like stars without my glasses on. Trying to live in the present moment and not worry so much.

Stella's back home. We did get her in rehab and she is improving. Good attitude, glad to be here, even with my cooking.

Practicing mindfulness. Like, for example, now. Right now in THIS present moment I am sipping my second cup of coffee and wondering whether it will mess with the Nexium capsule I took an hour ago. The cat is curled in a ball but with one eye open toward the door, ever vigilant of the sudden intrusion of the other cat. The cat is mindfulness, incarnate. She teaches me a lot.

I glanced at the headlines to see if something interests/inspires/outrages/amuses me. It's slim pickings today. I don't care to comment on the new "side boob" fashion phase, or whether Ed Koch was gay. Was Burger King selling hamburgers with horsemeat in the U.K.? Superbowl commercials...I must be old, I remember when they were a mere 750 thousand dollars a piece. Now they are four million. I'll probably see more of them than I will the game, since I don't care which team wins. If the Steelers aren't playing, it's not really important around here.

Hmm...This Fark.com headline is epitome of irony: Deadliest Sniper in US History Killed at Rifle Range.