Semi-Daily Scribbles

Endless Probabilities

A Story Unfolds

We stared at a map on the wall
During a break from paying our dues
Just you and me and the man in the tree
Lens focused on capturing what cannot be seen
A howl from the other room warned of a time to come
That would define us all too soon

Like brilliant silver light from a dying moon
Like a tangled romance getting bad reviews
Life doesn't always fit the narrative you choose
And love isn’t a commodity to be consumed

We eventually stopped staring at that map
Found a road that’d take us where news traveled slow
Like a pattern on the loom we began to emerge
To live our lives without the urge to edit and reframe
We are like a vine that can’t be trained
Disparate threads wind their way to disarray

Like brilliant silver light from a dying moon
Like a tangled romance getting bad reviews
Life doesn't always fit the narrative you choose
And love isn’t something to be misused

Fold back the corners to align the pattern
This highway is long and the journey rough
The signs marking the coastline invite you to stay
But only if you don’t mind perpetual sunshine
And if you can find the throughline along the way

We never found our destination but ended up in heaven all the same
The sea still roars, waves crash even when no one’s around
The two of us left behind the blinding light of recognition
Forever to wander the sacred enclaves of truth and intuition
The stars burn for you and me in our perfect patch of desolation
No song sweeter than the murmurs that call us home

Like brilliant silver light from a dying moon
Like a tangled romance getting bad reviews
Life doesn't always fit the narrative you choose
And love isn’t something to be refused

insightful flight

there’s a hollow place that fills the space in which you once presided
woodland images
sisters gathered at a picnic table
beers all around and one glass of wine

strange inflection on second syllables
hands that were the object of a stranger’s admiration
a son whose name is the same as my own

your journey now is one of real insight
an exploration of a heart defined by the third beat in a measure
music to propel you beyond earthbound concerns

Allow the Impossible to Happen

Hey '23! Embrace the new role of Chief Intuitioner. Set the intention to create, not ruminate. Read more, scroll less. Doom is in the eye of the idle. Don't expect the goal line to move toward you. A wish that leaves no heartbeat quickened is bound to become another daydream that'll lead you further from your purpose. Learn to recognize the reflection that shimmers on the surface of memory. Is it an image you'd want others to see when engaged in reverie? We sometimes need a reprieve from ourselves. The power inside you, once wielded with carelessness, must now radiate for those whom you do not know. More magic, less trash must be left in one's wake. Surrender to the silence that tried for years to grab your attention. You always did have a way of giving a good thing a swift kick in the teeth. Here's to another year to learn the lessons you no longer can ignore.

The Sweetness of Life

The revolving door of reality will open out upon a memory where you and I are sitting side by side, beneath a quilt, breathing in each other's scent. This is how you will forever be.

Evergreen Memories

I stayed up all night with you, getting a bit of shut eye here and there, but mostly watched you sleep and listened to your labored breathing. Your diagnosis of large cell lymphoma had been confirmed a few weeks ago and the vet prescribed prednisone, but your Pa and I could feel lumps all over you weeks before that. Hard not to get all tangled up in woulda/shoulda/coulda, but after 14 years of being the best teacup schnauzer that has ever padded through these parts, we are grateful for all the days spent as a family. Your sister would agree, too, even though I'm sure she prefers to maintain that cranky demeanor that we could all see right through. I've envisioned the two of you engaged in a lively chase, then a round of wrestling, as soon as she recognized you trotting across that Rainbow Bridge. A sunny place where the two of you can play and play and eat endless treats and never again be in pain.

I've blown through a box of tissue typing these sentences. It was just a few hours ago that we drove over to the vet for your final visit. You were light as a feather in my arms, covered as you were in your long, silky salt and pepper hair (which is still on the calendar to be cut this weekend, so I need to make a phone call once I've finished this post.) There are no more doggies living in our house that need regular hair appointments and yearly doctor exams. Those are the milestones that will keep me feeling out of balance now that our home is a canine-free zone. It has been years since we've lived without four-legged children. The holidays have lost a bit of sparkle and shine, but I'll endeavor not to become maudlin as I stare at the schnauzer ornaments hanging from the tree. You and your sister have enriched my life in so many ways, and I shall recount and contemplate all those memories you've helped to make over sugar cookies and eggnog in the remaining days of 2022. (And speaking of days, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention how sad Nana is that your shared birth month and day will now be celebrated by only one of you down here on planet Earth.)

We love you and miss you so very much, Lily Luna.

Arrhythmia

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.

Nowhere Near Finished

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.

A Unifiable Theme

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.

Summer Lovin'

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.