conversations with myself

i always wanted to learn music. never did.

not seeing
the jet
just contrails is all

an invisible spectator

it is important to observe yourself. but the trick is to watch each present moment from a distance. yes. i did say it was a ‘trick’. but it can be done. the largest mansions are not in the hamptons or in heaven. those really beautiful mansions are in your mind. i like living in my mansion and looking out the windows of my eyes on my life. i see it. i record it. but i cant judge it. and that is the ‘trick’ i refer to. if you spend time in judgement you are not really investing in the present moment. being there is actually the only tactic for the dedicated spectator. dont try to think past it either. you see the future is dependent on the present in order to become.

deserted diner
the sign
flickers all night

beauty walks a razors edge

when my flesh turns into a wisp of smoke. everything will become quiet again. wherever i begin this journey i will return to that very place. equanimity brings its own peace. nothing in that space is partial or judgemental.

after christmas
the elf on the shelf
flies to reno

blue river running slow and lazy

they built a new bridge over the outlet of a lake near my home. the dam at the outlet was closed for the construction. the outlet flows through a state park and fills the marsh. i was impressed at how much care they took to keep anything from the project getting into the marsh. we needed that bridge but the marsh is ten times as important to the wildlife and entire system. In spring this patient little stream turns into a raging river and jumps fifteen feet at the end where it falls to meet lake huron. but in the early fall it was a trickle until they finished the project. this year it rained more than usual and the marsh did not seem to lose an inch. nature managed her part of the project just fine too.

moss
on the river rocks
wobbles

the second hand unwinds

i have a lot of clocks. cuckoo clocks. mantel clocks. an old austrian pendulum wall clock that my grandfather rocked me to sleep in front of. none of them have a battery or a plug. they are the eternal reminder of the true nature of time. it moves on even after we are gone. at some moment in the future there will be no time left. no one will wind the clocks. our universe will shrink to the size of an electron and disappear until the next big bang. everything i know will run out of time. everything will become one again. so. if you dont want to go ‘cuckoo’ just halt the pendulum.

walking meditation
i stop myself
at the first step

NOTE: when i die does time cease or do i?

live under the sky

chickadees are so happy they fill me with unbounded smiles. all over my yard in the heat of summer or the bitterest days of winter they fly. cocking their heads in noisy celebration and observation. they see every movement and react in their perfect chickadee form. each moment is born and births another for them. the certainty of pachelbels canon and i never tire of listening and watching.

the way
branches move…
with no breeze