Atmospheric Pancakes

Sometimes I am a Selfish Little Bugger and sometimes, I am as wide-open as the Clear Blue Sky, expanding onward and upward through the atmospheric layers straight into the Heavens that stretch on into the limitless depths of imagination. The selfish side of me is more like wallowing in the Primordial muck, the basic unknowing part that is inside of everybody, how we all start out, the wide-open part is what is best in all beings and there is a way to get there which is a good part ethereal.

Watching the Bees buzz around in this changing light of Autumn, in this cool fall air, which puts coats of dew on the insides of my windows, reminds me of the effortless way of achieving Peace. This Peace is as fundamentally of part of each of us, as much as the Selfish part is. Neither require much thinking to get to, although at times, the Selfish may be summoned more quickly than the Peace, which may take a while to regain once the Selfish has reared its ugly head. I see the Bees in the Sunlight and the Yellow Leaves and the Blue Sky beyond it all, blue like a dome lid covering everything but the Blue isn’t really a lid, it’s the illusion of a lid, it’s really the layers of the atmosphere all stacked up on each other like cosmic Pancakes. If I were to put a pad of butter between each one and drown them in Pure Maple Syrup (I’m speaking of Grade A Dark Amber, not the Log Cabin Brand), I could chop them up with my fork and knife and eat them so quickly, these soft, light layers and I would have that Cosmic Breakfast for lunch and dinner and a midnight snack!

On this sunny Sunday morning, the light is dancing through the colored leaves and tickling me all over and makes me want to jump and run and be a Child of the Woods and smell the smoke and feel the cool air in my nostrils and filling up my lungs. It makes me realize the tight connection to all of the ages, all the way back, of which I am just the latest link. I am clinging to that realization and wondering more and more whether I am the knot at the end of the rope, that does stretch, no matter how you think of it, all the way back to the first little magic spark that ever happened on this Earth. That magic spark squeezed itself right out of thin air and so began the madness and the struggle that is building into either perfect peaceful bliss or indeed, complete destruction.

Although, I do admit, that the destruction might not be complete and if Humans were somehow wiped from the face of the Earth, as the Dinosaurs were, some other next great group would surely come along and adapt to the situation. Only an incredible cosmic accident could complete destroy life on Earth, the explosion of the Sun or an asteroid so big that it would just reduce us to bits of dust or some other unknown thing.

Today though, is just one day and it’s a beautiful day and I am hoping to survive it and watch the sun go down and to eat my Supper and read a book or draw a picture and go to sleep in my bed, with my little Dog by my side on the floor and the Kitty curled up on the couch, purring lightly, causing a vibration that reverberates into my dreams, then I will wake up on Monday morning with my batteries charged up full of this creative juice and I will make some wonderful art and have a successful week and be at peace and share some of that with anyone who is also open to it!

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Tickling My Senses Ale House

Something is itching at the back of my Brain or my Heart or wherever things will itch me when they want to jump out and take form in the World that I imagine is real. Where is that place, exactly? And is it important to know that location, is it where inspiration speaks to me? Is it just a cluttered area, like my studio, out of which ideas fall into place, made up of various pieces of odd things that would never normally fit together? I can’t say for sure, I only know that spending too much time trying to figure that out will cause the original itchy thing to disappear, even if it never fully took form inside of there, I think it was really just the longing to make a little piece of writing that would shake up the world somehow, the world I imagine to be real, the one in which my computer appears before me and I type in the words that pop up in my brain. Outside this morning it smells like Earthworms, like all the dew on the grass is that sticky stuff that gets on your hands and dries up after you have been handling Earthworms. There are leaves on the grass, too and maybe they are what makes that smell. The leaves are brightly colored now because it’s Fall but they are still fresh, they haven’t started to fade and turn into soil yet. The weather has been extremely nice, which is wonderful but it gives that feeling of sadness, that last little bit of warm weather, that fleeting feeling that everything is on the brink of changing. It is much cooler at night but still in the 80s during the day and the sunlight is perfect now, golden and illuminating everything, causing it all to glow. So much is happening right now in the world, not my imaginary world but the one that I hear about on the news, that people talk about by the watercooler or on the sidewalks and in the restaurants and cafes. The world is turning topsy-turvy, it isn’t just the changing of the seasons but the changing of ideas and those who refuse to be open to the new ideas, who are standing in the way of the advancement, those people are mad and they are swelling up and I can feel them growing and bulging, like they are going to explode. If only they could see it the way I do. If only they could see the good that comes with a little more knowledge and a dash of hope. Unfortunately it may be beyond their control, it is certainly beyond my control. I am just a Human, trying to get the itchy thing out from inside of me, the one that wants to jump from my thoughts and take form right here in front of me. It’s almost as if I could create some new life, some new thing, some whole other existence. Doesn’t that seem so bizarre?

Chit-Chat on Islands

The First in my mechanized Whale series

The First in my mechanized Whale series

I imagine that somewhere out there in the Sparkling Sea, there are people making chit-chat on Islands. I think of this as small talk, the kind of exchange done out of politeness mainly but also to get some quick information. I guess if it gets more developed than that, they have moved into full blown conversation and their coffee is cooling off and the morning is melting away into the day. I have always been a fan of Islands and often remind myself when traveling to them that “if it is not the Ocean, then it Is Land.” An Island, is land. Yes, I live high, high up in the Mountains of Western North Carolina and have done so for many years but part of my Heart is tangled up in the Water. I have dreamed of living on Islands or by the Sea Shore, or at least on a Lake but so far, I just have a tiny little creek running through my backyard, the Moore Creek, is my only water feature. Yet, I still dream of the Sea, the Magic of the Ocean, the sound of the tide against Cliffs, the taste of a mouthful of saltwater, the bite of the wind when the storm is raging, that unmistakable feeling of being on a boat. I think I am a Seafarer stuck inside a Landlubber. I want to hear the wind whistling through the rigging as we make a full head of steam, see the bow rip through the water as the Dolphins dance on either side, celebrating the Human Triumph in a way we could never appreciate them, those Aquatic Cousins, long gone from the Land. I would feel at home in a Steamer Chair with a cup of Hot Cocoa, watching the Sun go by overhead and all around me nothing but Ocean from Horizon to Horizon. Now mind you, I would not like to be set adrift, to float with no hope of rescue, no I would not like that, unless I landed on a tropical Island, either unpopulated or inhabited by some very friendly Natives. As I sit in my chair on dry land and type this and see only Mountains and Forests and Sky, I appreciate the rustic, inland situation but I do long for the Sea and the journey to get there is already begun.