So traumatized Chuck still works the mines.
A poet's soul with hardened arteries.
The company doesn't pay Chuck for his turn of phrase and artist's heart.
It's a tough task to write the perfect stanza when crafted in the arc of a headlamp.
Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Tomorrow is not a promise, but it is a reason to turn the page. As scattered as one's attention may be, there is a path to be found through the misdirection. Strategy is more than projection. Every idea is an invitation to define one's purpose.
Restlessness is what propels the impulse to create. Creation isn't always the result of a well-made plan. Pursue the vision that won't easily yield to revision. A first thought is energy caught between devotion and detachment.
Spirit is behind each stage of this manifestation implementation. Ideas are free and action is needed to make obstacles submit to one's will. Stop chasing that dream. Tell it to be still.
Instant ratification of thought loops and aggravation keep one comfortably stuck in reverse. We'll circle back around to examine what we've found on the road to relevance.
What is just is, and control is elusive if not aligned with what the Universe has in mind. Wheels turn while lessons are unlearned and fortunes are built on impermanence.
Night lights, be they Friday or Sunday, send signals to the brain that there are treasures buried in your marrow. Relax and catch the movement that goes unseen all around you.
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To make something beautiful is a lifelong pursuit.
Keep edges rough.
Lines are suggestions on where they should be crossed.
This is a love letter to your unfettered spirit.It is the rough edge of one's work that establishes merit.
Beginning. Middle. End.
The order in which the dream is conveyed is inconsequential.Mastery is misleading. Know when to write the final sentence and then walk away.
One's engagement with your creation is not the reason why you got into this game.
You've dictated the rules. Now go help someone else find her through line.Challenge everything that makes you feel in control.
To understand one's desire is a trial of the soul. -
August is here and I'm thinking of you as always. Summer 2022 has a very 1970's vibe as I've returned to the activities that brought me joy as a kid: writing scary stories, banging away on my guitar and all things Star Wars. Yup, nostalgia is in right now. How go things where you are? Down here, so far, there have been over 40 100-degree days. Yeow! Definitely weather a thick-and-curly-haired girl from Lynden is just not used to. Sister Lily is full of mischief at 14 and taken to crunching up every discarded cicada exoskeleton she can find in the backyard. I remember you used to chew on the newly emerged ones that were trying to figure out how to fly. Oh, and a bunny rabbit ate my Jack Pine seedling that I'd set out on the patio to soak up some sun. My meager attempt at reforestation, but I will try again to grow a tree from seed. At least I took a couple snapshots of the baby pine and its bright green needles. However, we do have a peanut plant flourishing in one of the flower pots thanks to a forgetful rodent. Peanut blossoms look like yellow sweet peas. We'll see how bountiful Farmer Squirrel's crop turns out to be. Nature is, more than ever, my refuge since the news amps up my anxiety (i.e.: the planet's on fire, state legislators want to be my OB/GYN and polio is back.) But you, my beloved rambunctious pup, are a constant companion as I move through my days. Happy crazy runnin' along that endless stretch of sea and sand, little buddy.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 