Saturday, June 23, 2012

First set of plans


These lines on paper come alive in the gentle summer breeze. The rustling leaves breathe life into the sketches, and stir my soul with hope.





Elevator Pitch: Pecking Order



Running by a canal, I am joined by a feathered admirer. Pleasant companionship, till he (she?) overstayed, unwanted guest unleashing vitriolic retort when asked to leave. I stopped. He stopped. I ran, he ran. I asked him to go. He snapped, threatening my unborn grandchildren.

Impasse unresolved by runners and bicyclists who congratulate me on my marvelously trained pet. Thank you very much, but would you like to have him – for dinner?

Exasperated, I unleashed loud and angry recriminations, preferring Hindi, in case I offended passersby, casting the most serious aspersions on my follower’s parentage, his privates, the nature of his relationships. He hissed, spat and advanced. I attacked with my most advanced weapon – a stream of water from my bottle. He laughed in his own peculiar way and cocked his head.

The font of Modern Day Wisdom, powered by the Oracle of Mountain View, says he’d decided I was lower in the pecking order. That I must kow-tow, genuflect, kiss his ring. 

Memory of his haughty demeanor will bring me down to earth if ever I raise my head too high. too high.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Inky, Binky and Clyde


A litter showed up on the lot! It’s so nice to think the land is fertile, prolific – and that the neighbors care. One of them has looked after the three little kittens – it’s so endearing.


Google to the rescue!!! A friend got a cat rescue team involved, and Inky, Binky and Clyde are now in foster care, clean and fed. They need permanent homes – do get in touch if you will have one of them.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Odd Shaped Lot



There’s always a breeze here, stirring the leaves, a gentle rustle, dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, and a single monarch butterfly flitting hither and thither. A feral cat’s litter crouched below fallen bark, playful little balls of wool.

The un-built house is already home.

This piece of the planet is mine to embrace, to hold dear, to gain nourishment from. This is my springboard as much as my retreat. Sanctuary by night, launching pad with the rising sun.

But first we must construct that house and make it home. And that is a journey filled with fevers and enthusiasms - I invite you, my good friends - join me!!! In the coming months I will post designs and pictures, and reflect on challenges and joys, the ups and downs.  

Do visit me often – here, in my journal, and at the Odd Shaped Lot. I look forward to your company, to sharing thoughts, picking your brains, and to raising a toast to life. La Chaim!

Fevers and Enthusiasms


Ray Bradbury talks of a writer’s excitement and vigor. Of fevers and enthusiasm. This wannabe’s internal muse – that bottomless eternal muse! – comes alive, reading Zen in the Art of Writing.

Is there a contradiction between my thirst for serenity and these fever’s that I so enjoy, that make me come alive? Can the organism be vibrant, seeking, growing – curious, active - and ever ready. And yet – gaining calm, peace and serenity? Is it possible to be firing on all four cylinders, re-fuelling midflight as it were, and yet – stationary except for that Sunflower’s turn of the head to track heat and warmth?

It is not stillness I seek, is it? No. The river is not still. It bubbles, it flows, it is incessant. It storms down boulder strewn canyons, wearing the rough rocks smooth. It swirls in deep pools, sucking life in. And it flows on, rippling under this bridge, a pause between fever and enthusiasm.

Serenity


The patch of blue water arrests my run and I pause in the cool tunnel, reflecting on the calm that has occupied my soul, displacing turmoil, fear and despair. Water ripples gently by in the shallows, in harmony with my breathing and the gentle flow of thoughts.

The water under the bridge traveled far, did it not. From glacier to high mountain stream, down rocky canyons and over the High Sierra. My mind leans towards the ripples, waves blending, playing a little ditty - a duet to mark the journey, an ode to peace and serenity.

Stay with me, O Gentle River, stay with me, and give me your calm.