The Time of Day

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At the end of the day, we are all alone. For some, this allows time for meditation and a cleansing. For others, it’s like a pot-hole. A vast empty space that jars the road ahead and leads your thoughts astray. Shock absorbers don’t make the bumps easier. There aren’t any. Your mind just spirals downward into a dark reality where the sun seems cloaked in sorrow and despair. A thousand times you’ve pulled yourself up and out of this place but when it begins you can’t imagine how or why.

But you must.

For as the day ends another begins, waiting to be created and hoping you have learned from the day before that silver linings are always there. A bit tarnished and in need of polish they rise up and make you reach beyond what surrounds you.

I am drenched in green and a healthy earth as I write this. It makes me realize how places choose their future. Mowing down Orchards for highways, calling it prosperity.  Building cement cities, filling in the ocean so we may support other countries, taking the water from the farms and forests, calling it a necessity–for the people.  We cannot go back in time and stop those who destroyed the land. We are those people.

We shouldn’t close the borders to stop people from immigrating to this country, we should close them to protect what is left of our land.

Put the health of our land first and it will feed your health.

And the pot-holes? All roads have them. Slow down and they won’t seem as deep.

Plant a Victory Garden. No matter how small; it will help feed the earth.




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Yay! Another season begins! And I’m alive!

Kicks imaginary leaves from the pile I just raked up in my head.

I guess that’s why sunrise if so blooming late.

The good part is the chill on the morning breeze and crispness in the air after four days of humid swelter.

Mother Nature has a standard of excellence. Damn the torpedos and full speed ahead into Fall.

We all should live this way.

There are a million quotes on when the going gets tough the tough get going.

The populous test nature’s resilience every day. She will survive.

Will we? Will you?

It’s not about plastic bags or straws; it’s about every part of everything. Co-existing.

Something we can’t even do with our personal beliefs. How do we expect to save a planet that we can’t even agree on how the planet should be let to exist. We want all people to be the same. We want. We want. We want.

Be like us, not you, you’re wrong.

Stifle it.

Be whatever you want or what you need to be to be happy.

(Unless this entails murder.)

I watched, Emeril Eats the World, the most ridiculous title for a show in a long time, last night.

The episode in South Korea. Where he travels to meet Jeong Kwan, a Zen Buddhist nun and the show evolves to something special. A spiritual journey. 

.Listen to what the nun says.

Fall Equinox



This day is yours to live.zen (640x425)

Is Facebook Dying? What’s Killing It? by Kristen Lamb.

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Have to share this. Although, I want PokemonGo permanently hacked.

There is a new trend that is piquing my interest and I think it is going to make a revolutionary change in social media that might even have the power to topple the mighty Facebook.

Source: Is Facebook Dying? What’s Killing It?


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I blogged about my friend who died the morning I left on a retreat. Last week, The Welshman’s mother passed. She was a complicated person and minimally nice. Nice is a strong word to use, but she was never kind. Still, The Welshman’s mother died. An abused child doesn’t think of the abuse when their parent dies, especially when age has weakened the sting.

His grieving has helped me understand mine but that is not what I am writing about.

I am writing about his.

He came home from work early and just wanted to relax. I took him for a drive up the coast much like you’d take your dog out for some good deep breaths f air and relaxation. He felt better but exhausted. Grief is exhausting. mind numbingly so.

Now he has a cold of sorts. He never catches colds. The cold is his way of handling grief. I believe it allows him to be weak. Something his mother beat out of him at a very young age and his father fostered by being weak.

I wish there was a pillow that absorbed grief and took one off to sleep in a land of good memories and happy endings. I wish there was a blanket of dreams that washed away grief, taking it away in great waves  like those created by a storm over the ocean. I want the soft sand to sift away the remainder of pain and become sand castles of hope.

The future will be bright again one day for The Welshman. One only hopes the wait isn’t long. He deserves to rid himself of this cold and inhale deeply of the fresh new air of tomorrow.23704898785_aaa4f93a24_m

Reflections on my retreat

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Just over a month ago, I went on a retreat. I needed it. I made myself go. Even after The Welshman told me I should, I didn’t make my decision right away.

Nothing wrong with the retreat. The thought of spending a weekend with people I didn’t know was scary enough. Add spend that time in a one-room cabin and I’m on a ledge over the ocean. Before I could shut things down, I signed up.

Forcing yourself to do something is good medicine.

Yoga, painting and nature.

Yoga: I do chair yoga. Painting: I paint. Nature: my soul resides deep in nature’s woods and deserts.

Painting: I watched paintings bloom. And painted a blossom of my own.

Nature: she never disappoints.

So what could scare me? People, fellow fishies swimming in the sea of life.

Overall, considering my feelings about strangers, the weekend went well. I learned several things about myself. One, I need to learn to ask. Two, I really need to learn to ask. Three, I will most likely never ask.

I also learned that as an empath to surround yourself with new energies and let them pour in, is good and insanely risky.

Good, because it opens you up to the big pond of fishes we all swim with and lets us know we are all the same. Basically. now there’s a word I hate, basically. Nothing in life is really basic or accurate as we first see or experience it. It takes time to establish a baseline so basically isn’t complex enough to detail life. Hopefully, life leads us on new adventures and we are changing. Viewpoints, likes, dislikes, needs, and wants all these things should experience growth/change throughout our lives.

The retreat came on the wings of the death of a dear friend. I had no idea of how to let her go.

Do you feel grief is you know someone has suffered for a very long time? Selfishly, yes. You have lost someone. Compassionately, no. Will I miss our daily chats or texts? Yes. Will I miss trying to offer comfort when I know her pain is far beyond what most could live through? No.

The retreat gave me a sound footing with which I could deal with the loss. The storm reminded me of her fierceness and the rain washed away my tears as it fed the earth.The closeness to nature brought balance to my insecurities about being with so many unknowns. The fishies all on their own journeys finding the time to step outside their private ponds and take a dip with others in search of answers. Or for some justification.  The simple desire for a soft touch or sincere pat on the back, maybe just a kind word.

The closeness to nature brought balance to my insecurities about being with so many unknowns. The fishies all on their own journeys finding the time to step outside their private ponds and take a dip with others in search of answers. Or for some justification.  The simple desire for a soft touch or sincere pat on the back, maybe just a kind word.

Kind words. How important are they? Randomly compliment someone and see.

I promised myself to do more meditating. And have. I promised to spend more time in nature and have done this as well. Alone, but at peace with myself.

Thirty days of reflection made me realize retreats are a good thing. A writers retreat is in my future. Conferences seem tied to business and hordes of people. Conventions: my pond evaporates into a single drop and I’m stuck in the mud.

Today, I wondered how many of the other fishies have been reflecting on the retreat?

I am thankful for the retreat. I am grateful to have known my friend.


Simple and true

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Follow this and know you follow you heart’s path.

Thank GYA.


Buskers, are they free?

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Buskers and the way they live have been around for centuries, why is a TED talk from one so extraordinary?

They are everywhere. Some most excellent and I have dropped what I can spare into their coffer.

I don’t know of anyone in this country who is afraid of asking, look at the mess our government is in…it is from asking for everything and working towards nothing. Charisma plays an important part in the “asking”, great buskers are great examples. Artists deserve to be paid, if they want to set a price they should, if they want to busk they should. This is not the matter of an inspiring TED talk, it is a life choice. BTW the busker in question is married to a very wealthy man, something that if anyone should mention they are launched off the proverbial plank.  Ah, the charismatic followers, not as kind as the speaker, much more enraptured with her. some would make Charles Manson level, if this were a game
History is full of artists who did not conform and were paid and make me feel inspired. And could carry a note. I know it is a style.

Of course, I do not have someone with 3million followers to ask to follow me, nor did they.

Artists who don’t must find a way to network. for some this path is the norm of obtaining space and making their wares available. If someone was to stop in a shop and leave with 30hours worth of work and leave only $5. would this be correct, fair, or tolerable. NO f’ing way. if you are standing on a street corner sketching and you offer a drawing you did of a on looker, then yes.

Note: TED speakers are not paid, they are taken care of (5 star hotel, food, etc.) and to speak at TED you are recommended by someone or have a following and be known…ah.

The speech in question is done with the charisma and the person is an expert busker.